“Jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt over a long-sleeved T-shirt.” Silence. “Whatever you’re doing is working for me.” She raised her hips a little to meet the slow I’m-pretending-I’m-not-really-doing-this flirtation of her hand with the crotch of her jeans. “I warn you, I’m not particularly good at this. “Um,” she said, because her brain was concerned with single syllables at the moment, like want and now.
“The foreplay was over when you said the word ‘foreplay.’ At least on this end of the phone.” I guess the foreplay stops when you start touching yourself.” “How do you distinguish foreplay from the main event in phone sex?” “Yeah.” She flattened her hand, a slow, easy back and forth, just enough friction to keep the buzz up. She was damp and hot there, and her body clenched at the contact. She leaned back on the couch and slid her palm down and rubbed it experimentally over the seam of her jeans. “Yeah? If that was foreplay, the actual frolicking might kill me.” “I think that was foreplay to frolicking.” He, on the other hand, had managed to make frolicking sound like a new sex technique, filthy and forbidden. “Was that what we were doing at the party? Frolicking?” “I don’t see anything wrong with a little frolicking among consenting adults.” They might have been talking about the circumstances under which she believed it was prudent to carry an umbrella and wear rain boots his voice was that steady. She tried to keep her breath under control, even as heat gathered between her legs. “Do you follow the advice you give your students? You told me the first time we talked that you tell them they should be in a committed relationship or marriage before they have sex.” Instead, her heart pounded uselessly and she tasted adrenaline.
All the words got stuck behind her tongue and wouldn’t shake loose.
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