A shoulder to cry on

I closed the door. "Michelle, why are you telling me this?" I asked.

"Because I'm really worried," she said. The little crease between her eyebrows was exactly the worried look she had for the last few months before we decided to break it off.

"Hey, kid," I said, smiling at her. "Sit down a sec and breathe." I sat down on the bed and pointed next to me.

She sat down beside me on the bed, close, but not too close.

"How come you're coming to me, not one of your girlfriends? Or a counselor? There are people who are experts on this," I said.

"It always just worked for us," she said. "For you and me. We just fit. Zip, zam, boom! It's so frustrating with him. I mean, I love him, but I just can't seem to come when we're making love. I thought... I thought maybe you knew... whether you were doing something different with me that he and I could try together."

"You know," I said. "The morning of your wedding day is not exactly the best time to concentrate on this sort of thing. You have plenty of time..."

"But I don't!" she said.

"You're taking a trip, you can go and relax. That ought to help all by itself."

"He said he was worried I was frigid!"

My eyebrows shot up. "What?" Michelle? My little Miss Wake-The-Neighbors?

"That, that, that bachelor party...that girl, you know. I heard the next morning he was bragging she came ten times with him! But me..." She sniffled and started sobbing.

Proper or not, I reached over to comfort her. Michelle sagged against my bare chest and sobbed. I breathed in the scent of her hair. We sat there holding each other until she was breathing evenly. My shoulder was wet with her tears. And the towel round my waist was bulging over my erection.

"Michelle," I said. "I want you to be happy." I took a deep breath. "I'd move heaven and earth to make things work out for you. But what do you think I could do?"

"Maybe if you can be there...tonight...I want it to work."

Did she mean she wanted me there as a coach?

"Michelle, I'd be there for you. But what is Matt going to say about an old boyfriend hanging about on your wedding night?"

"Maybe..." she paused to sniffle, "maybe you can warm me up?"

I was seriously worried the hotel towel around my waist was going to be perforated by my boner.

"I think," I said carefully, "that you and Matt need to have a little heart-to-heart talk today. Now, in fact, might be the perfect time. Because, although I don't think marriage is for everyone, I do believe that both parties need to sincerely be working together on some of the basics. Sex is one of them. And though I think highly of you and Matt, from what you say, there seems to be a little communication problem."

"That's just it!" she said. "He doesn't listen! He just says, 'Oh babe, oh babe, you're so beautiful, that feels so good, God, Michelle, I'm gonna do it, you're making me come,' and then he shoots his load and that's it. I'm wet, I'm ready, I'm a minute from coming, and he's lying there like a big wet sleepy dog."

I bit my lip. Michelle was never very good about talking about sex when she wasn't doing it. I wondered if that was the other half of the problem.

"Has he ever told you about his favorite fantasies?" I asked.

"Like sex on the beach on a warm night?" Michelle asked.

"Has he mentioned one about a courtyard hotel in the tropics?" I prompted.

"Yeah, where he's watching the couple across the way through a net curtain, and like we're following along with what they do?" she said.

"Do you think you know a woman who wouldn't mind a little show-and-tell to help you on your wedding night?" I asked.

Michelle put a hand on her mouth, and looked up at the ceiling, thinking.

"If you don't want to go through with it, I'll be under your balcony with a getaway car in case Matt's a louse on your wedding night. Not that I can promise you anything more this time..."

Then her eyes snapped back to mine, and she said...