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rubbed his beard as he pondered the question. “All sorts. I’ve known athletic girls and voluptuous girls. It’s not a type as far as looks go. It’s more an attitude. I’ve known some stunning girls who have been really conceited and ugly on the inside. Then I’ve met some regular girls who have become more and more beautiful as I’ve gotten to know them better.”
    Well that was no help to me at all. Let’s try this in a different way.
    “Yes, but, if you went to a bar and met a group of girls, would one draw your eye more than the others?”
    He smiled. “Probably. I might begin by chatting up one woman, but by the end of the night after talking to them, I may leave with a different one than who I’d originally thought.”
    Fine. I’ll just make up a girl to write about.
    The next question was an embarrassing one, but I wanted to know as much for my story as for my own personal knowledge. “There’s been a growin’ increase in…in waxin’.”
    His brows shot up as he grinned mischievously. “Yeeess…”
    Leaning toward him, I lowered my voice and asked, “You know what I mean, right?”
    He frowned and shook his head. “I’m not sure I do. Please, elaborate.” His eyes were dancing as he watched me squirm.
    “Girls waxin’ their…their hoo-ha.” I indicated my groin area.
    “You mean pussy?” He couldn’t hide the laugh in his voice.
    Heat rose in my cheeks. “Yes, I mean…pussy. Is that essential these days, to be bald down there?”
    Adam chuckled and leaned forward again, patting my arm. “See, that wasn’t so hard to say, was it, Buttercup?”
    Again with the Buttercup. What’s with that?
    He sat back once more, smoothing down the whiskers on his chin with one hand. “It’s not essential for me. I don’t mind a little bit of hair.” He gave me a shameless wink. “You don’t want to have to go slashing through the forest with a machete to find the good bits, or end up with a hair ball in your throat. But neat and trim, or completely gone is fine.”
    Unable to meet his eyes after his description of needing a machete, and thoughts of my own out-of-control bush, I busied myself taking notes… Neat and trim or completely bald is preferable. Must head into town to buy a razor or some wax strips.
    We continued talking and I frantically jotted down as much information as I could garner. Nothing seemed to be off-limits with Adam, including favorite sexual positions, most of which I’d never heard of but that he happily explained. We talked about leaning, bending, standing, lying, sitting, and any other conceivable position where two people could become joined. It seemed Adam enjoyed them all equally whether hard and fast or slow and deep, his smooth accent making everything sound seductive.
    Then we moved on to the importance of oral sex and how he believed the theory of a man being in control when he performed oral sex on a woman was a total myth.
    “How can you say a man is in control of the woman? That’s absolute bollocks.” He looked at me for some sort of reaction. All he got was stunned silence. So he continued. “I mean, sure, she’s at your mercy when you’re licking her out, but she’s still in control.”
    My cheeks grew hot, especially from the term licking out , and any note-taking had been forgotten.
    “Tell me any other time when a guy is focused, hell-bent in fact, on doing whatever it takes to make a woman completely happy. We’ll twist around and stand on our heads for a better angle while she lies back giving instructions.” He threw his hands to the side. “If that’s not being in control of the guy, I don’t know what is.”
    He seemed to be waiting for me to respond, but my head was still back at the licking out part and images of Adam contorting himself to get the best angle. I pictured how Adam’s head would look between my thighs, my fingers tangled in his long hair, and I wondered if he moaned with a British accent. He had a dirty mouth and by