The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2)(73)

“Is that her?”

“No way. That’s not her.”

Naomi ignored them and the warning crawling down her spine. She had somewhere to be. Her lecture started in ten minutes. Those people weren’t her problem. She had a class waiting.

Except when she got to their usual room, it was empty. She pulled out her cell phone and saw two missed calls from Ethan and a string of text messages.

6:30 Have to move to auditorium C.

6:45 Some members of the press here. Did Clara invite them?

6:47 Looks like standing room only.

Naomi closed her eyes and tried to slow the beating of her heart. She inhaled deeply and let it out through her nose. Okay, so her audience had grown. That was fine. Still just another lecture. Another type of performance. This group of people would see exclusively and exactly what she wanted them to, just like everyone else.

According to a sign bearing city ordinance, auditorium C could safely seat 750 people. But when Naomi entered the room and skimmed the audience, attendees had spilled into the aisles, sitting on the steps or leaning against the back wall.

She took her place behind the podium. This one didn’t have wheels. For some reason, she really didn’t like that.

“I suppose you’re all here tonight because you heard this was the lecture about sex, right? You wanna know what a self-declared pleasure professional is going to say about taking off your clothes.” Her voice carried through the microphone, too loud and not languid enough by half.

The audience rippled, elbows pressed to desks as heads ducked forward, pens poised, fingers braced over keyboards.

Naomi found Ethan in the back row, like always, and straightened her shoulders.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve all noticed, but in our formerly puritanical and currently patriarchal society, sex makes some people nervous,” she said, this time at the right volume. “Sometimes, even me.”

The click-clack of someone typing with enthusiasm rang out across the auditorium. Naomi straightened her shoulders.

“I’ve spent a lot of hours having sex. A few of you know that better than others.” She nodded at a male reporter in the front, earning her a few laughs.

“It’s always been a bit untenable. There’s no way, really, to predict how sex will be with a new person. All the theories about the way they kiss or the size of their instep are nothing but grasping at straws. I’ve had ugly sex with gorgeous people. Sex that’s not worth remembering. Sex that made me forget my own name. Sometimes it’s bad. Sometimes it’s funny. Occasionally, it’s funny how bad it is.”

Naomi focused on her students, the ones that kept coming back week after week. She’d come to talk to them, not the press. “Listen, I want you each to have exactly as much sex as you’d like. Maybe that’s no sex. Maybe it’s tons. Probably it’s somewhere in the middle.”

“I’d prefer tons,” Craig shouted out, cupping his hands around his mouth so it carried.

“I know you would, bud. Hang in there.” She gave him a conciliatory nod before continuing. “I can’t tell you the right way to have sex. I’m pretty sure there is no right way. I’m also definitely not going to tell you what not to do. Own your own boundaries.”

Someone snapped a photo with a flash. Naomi blinked. It’s okay. You’re okay.

“All I can tell you is that for the last decade of my life, I’ve mostly treated sex as a litmus test. My partners passing and failing to varying degrees.” She paused to tuck her hair behind her ear, staring out at a guy clearly filming on his cell. “I wanna be clear that performing in adult films didn’t make me like that.”

Naomi would throw herself down a flight of stairs before she’d let another journalist write a think piece about how sex workers couldn’t emotionally connect.

“I considered myself discerning. But really, I was just young and arrogant. I thought I knew where sex maxed out. Where it peaked, no pun intended. I used to think—and to be fair, I thought this was extremely profound at the time—that if you made someone come in the right way, you could get them to reveal things to you that they kept hidden from the rest of the world. Sounds powerful, right?”

“Sounds like some potent pussy, Ms. G.”

Naomi shook her head, recognizing another familiar voice. “Thanks, Dan. I try.”

Ethan shot him an intense Watch it look that made her laugh.

“Potency aside, I recently realized that sometimes it’s better to ask yourself not just what do you want, but what are you willing to give?”

Tender like a fading bruise. Tender like a slow dance. Tender like a beating heart.

“After all, a trade that only goes one way is actually called stealing, and after a while, even the most callous hearts grow guilty.”

When Naomi was young, she’d thought hardening herself to vulnerability was radical. Now, she knew it was both foolish and impossible.

“Access to your body is one thing. To let someone see your feverish wants. To let them hear the noises you make as you surrender. When you think about it a lot, having sex is kind of . . . insane.”

More laughs. Naomi took them in, let them keep her warm.

She found Ethan again. He wasn’t taking notes like usual. His eyes held hers. Hey, he mouthed.

Hi.

Naomi walked away from the mic; she was loud enough on her own.