Sex tales online
I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing all right."That night, on the shoulder of I-94, big rigs howling past, I thought of Nicole. We should meet up." There was a long pause, the kind of silence you hear when the TV's showing footage of a plane crash or a natural disaster and the anchorman's at a loss for words. It's fucking freezing here, anyway."Ten days later, I was in Austin. This was the kind of girl I'd move to Texas for. I turned away and headed out of the restaurant, almost bumping into a guy on his way in.We'd had kind of a nice connection, hadn't we? Nicole suggested we get together at an Applebee's off I-35 at the far-north end of town. I wondered if we'd be having sex in my hotel room tonight. He was black with a shaved head, about 30 years old. Then slowly, shyly, he raised his hand and gave a little wave. We went inside and sat in a booth far from everyone.It had to be the old Pakistani guy down in the motel office, I figured, or else my little brother, Peter, whom I was traveling with; he'd gone out walking down the service road, looking for better reception on his cellie so he could call his girlfriend. "There was a stirring in my gray mesh basketball shorts with the three thin white stripes down each side. "A few months earlier, in May 2004, I'd published a book called Found and hit the road with Peter for an eight-month, 136-city tour.After the third ring, I picked up."I'm Nicole." I could hear the push of her breath on the other end of the line, as though her mouth was pressed close to the receiver. Nicole explained that she'd hit the bars all night with her friends, and that now they were drunk and passed out and she was bored. "I want to tell you what we would do."I'd never had phone sex before. " I was about to hang up, but then, remembering our little moment a few hours before, I softened. At each event, I read from my book and Peter played guitar and sang.It was weird that she was always whispering, though. Ultimately, this is what I told myself: Phone sex was really about the power of the imagination, and in that case I could imagine her to be whomever I wanted.A couple of times, I told Nicole it was over unless she talked out loud so I could be sure she was a girl. It wasn't hard to imagine her as Fiona Apple's double. My phone had a special ring for Private Caller, and since Nicole was the only one who rang like that, I could tell when she was calling. I dropped the funny guises and just talked to her genuinely.
And the more we got to know each other, the more the sex improved. She started calling me every day, a half hour before my reading, when she knew I'd be out in the van getting my notes ready.
She said her boyfriend was studying just outside her bedroom door. "Just talk out loud for a second so I can hear your real voice." She refused.
I got a little freaked out—was this a guy I'd been talking to? Still, she seemed like a girl—there'd been a few times when I thought I'd heard her real voice, times when she laughed, times when she moaned. Houston, Baton Rouge, New Orleans, Tampa—Nicole and I skittered across the South; it was like Badlands for the new millennium (less killing, more "anytime minutes").
"Hey, Davy," she'd breathe, "how 'bout a quickie?
"In December the book tour ended, and I resumed a more regular kind of life—staying put in Michigan, playing basketball twice a week at the rec center, sleeping in my own bed.