"Speaking of which, how's Tank?" I ask.
Sable sighs and leans back with her head against the wall. "Jonathan is…good."
"Jonathan?" I ask, laughing.
"That's his name. His actual name, not his nickname."
"Since when did you start learning the names of the guys you bang?" I ask. That sounds like a bitchy thing to say, but it's not. Sable prefers to refer to the guys she dates by a moniker other than their names – The Artist, or The Drummer, or The Jackhammer. "I've never heard you call anyone by his name."
Sable shrugs. "I like his name."
I sit up straight in bed. "You like him."
Sable rolls her eyes. "I do not," she says. "I like banging him."
I narrow my eyes as I point my finger at her. "No, no, no, this is not the I-like-sex Sable I know and love. This Sable is all weird."
"Oh, shut up," she groans, her cheeks pink.
"You're blushing again."
"So what? I think Jonathan is cute and I like hooking up with him."
"You liiike him," I tease, dragging out the word.
"Shut up, Virgin."
"Not anymore."
"Hah. I knew it!" She bolts upright in the bed, turning to face me and crisscrossing her legs. "You have my undivided attention. Tell me absolutely everything in exacting detail."
"We did it," I say. "That's it. I'm not a virgin anymore."
Sable screws up her face. "Oh. I see. Well, don't worry about it. You know, it's not necessarily fireworks and magic the first time anyway."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's okay if it was disappointing," she assures me. "I mean, it's a lot of pressure, twenty-three years of waiting for the big moment. So it's naturally going to be hard for it to live up to the expectation."
"It wasn't disappointing," I tell her. "It was… really good."
"Why did you make it sound like it was disappointing?"
"I didn't!" I protest. "I just said that I lost it and that's it."
"Where did he take you?" Sable asks. "Did he make me proud?"
"Make you proud?" I ask.
"He was worried about the whole deflowering thing."
"What??" I squeal. "He talked to you about it?"
"Not exactly," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "He wanted a little advice. It was so sweet."
"He needed advice on how to do it?" My voice goes up approximately three octaves. It's one thing for Sable and I to deconstruct our sex lives or lack thereof, but another thing entirely for Colton to talk to her about how to deflower me.
Sable cocks her head to the side. "No, he was clear on the mechanics," she goes on. "I mean, at least I hope he was."
"Yes," I mumble, my teeth gritted. "We were both clear on the mechanics, thanks. What exactly did he say to you about it?"
"He wanted to make the experience… special," she explains. "Romantic."
"So you told him what to do?" I ask. I feel a sudden pang of disappointment that he asked Sable for advice. Here I was, thinking that he had come up with the back-of-the-truck thing all on his own.
"Of course I didn't tell him what to do," she says. "I just told him you weren't a flowers and dinner kind of girl and he should think outside the box."
"That's all you told him?" I ask. "And who says I'm not a flowers and dinner kind of girl?"
"Come on," Sable whines. "Don't deny me this. How did he do it?"
"Missionary style."
"Hilarious. I don't want to know the position. Did he think outside the box or not?"
I exhale heavily. "He brought me out into the country," I tell her. "In his truck. That sounds a lot lamer than it was."
"So you did it in the back of his pickup truck?" Sable asks, wrinkling her nose like she smells something bad. "When I suggested he think outside the box, I kind of meant a suite at the Four Seasons or something."
"Ok, I'm not telling you anything else."
"No! Keep going! I'll zip my lips. Promise." She makes a fake buttoning gesture and gives me a patiently waiting look.
I roll my eyes. "I'm not telling you any more," I say. "It was outside under the stars and it was very nice and he did well. It was outside of the box. And it was romantic."
Sable grins broadly. "Good. I'm glad neither of you got poison ivy on your junk."
"You're such a bitch."
"Did I wish poison ivy on you or did I literally just say I was glad that neither of you came home with junk-rashes?"
"So Jonathan is your boyfriend, now, right?"
"That's a low blow, bringing relationship labels into this conversation," she says. "We're having fantastic sex and that's that."
"Sure you are."
"Look at you. One time having sex and now you're an expert on no-strings relationships."
"Not one time," I confess, my face warming at the thought of Colton taking me up against the side of his truck.
"You hussy!"
"Was that pride I heard in your tone?"
"My little baby is growing up," Sable sings, wiping a mock tear from her eye. "Colton's not going to know what hit him."
* * *