Friendly Persuasion Read Online Free PDF Page A

purposefully to the devices shelves, head high. She was a sexually active woman who had every right to explore new sensations. She faltered a little, though, when the most tasteful vibrator she could find was in a lurid purple box that screamed self-pleasure toy.
    To cover her real purpose, she snatched up a few items on her walk to the register—some party napkins with suggestive jokes, a feather boa, some flavored body paints and a package of what turned out to be edible underwear. She kept her head down and prayed the bored girl behind the counter wouldn’t shout out, Price check on the Heavy Duty G-Spot Pleasure Wand.
    The clerk didn’t bat an eye, thank God, and Kara rushed out of the store with her purchases in a plain brown bag, feeling as if she’d dodged a bullet.
    Next stop, the video store. Pausing in the self-help section she picked out an instructional video featuring a positive-thinking guru, then slipped behind the purple curtain with the Adults Only sign over it. Ignoring the sideways glances of the men browsing—no, lurking—at the racks, she scanned titles that made her blush to her roots, and finally grabbed a tape with a soft-focused photo and no evident body parts.
    Making sure only the motivational tape showed, she clutched the tapes close to her chest, pushed through the purple curtain…and ran smack-dab into Ross. The shock made her drop her sex-shop sack, spilling her brightly colored purchases on the carpet.
    She stood there frozen for a second and Ross bent to pick up, then hand the items to her one at a time, examining each one. “Looks like you have a busy evening ahead of you,” he said, giving her the vibrator.
    “Never you mind,” she said, shoving it into her bag, blushing furiously.
    “And what are you renting?” he asked, snatching the tapes from her fingers. He held them high, out of her reach. “Hmm, Firefighters in Flames and Getting What You Want NOW…with Tony Rockwell, ” he said, reading the covers. “I can see the firefighters—all those muscles and that big pole —but I had no idea you had a thing for old guys with bad dye jobs,” he said, handing the tapes back.
    “Oh, stop it,” she said. “I’m experimenting, okay?”
    “I’m kind of hurt you’re going with paraphernalia when I’m offering my fleshly self.”
    “I’m exploring…um…options.”
    “Flaming firefighters? Please. You are chicken.”
    “Am not.” She was so humiliated she just blurted, “Okay, smart guy. You’re on. Let’s go to your place and see about some rules.” What else could she do? He’d dared her and she had her pride. She’d find out what he had mind, at least.
    The minute they got to his place, Ross started rushing through the apartment picking up stuff.
    “Don’t fuss on my account,” she said. She’d been to his place numerous times and he’d never batted an eye when she had to push stuff off the couch just to make a place to sit. His frantic cleanup now charmed her.
    His furniture consisted of funky items he’d scored at yard sales and nostalgia shops, along with things he bought off friends who needed money. He had a fish tank made from an old-fashioned clear gas pump in one corner and a Roy Rogers lamp-end-table ensemble next to an orange Naugahyde sofa.
    Only the art was decent—fabulous, actually. Art photography, original oils and several sculptures. His record albums—he collected vinyls of blues artists and had a mint condition turntable—were in orderly racks. Ross had taste, just no concern.
    Cords from three video game controllers were tangled in the middle of the floor and the couch cushions were propped against the cocktail table—backrests for gamers, no doubt. “Mind if I put these back?” she asked, picking up a cushion.
    “Be my guest. I’ll get us a couple beers.”
    She sat down on the recushioned couch and thought about what she might be doing—having sex with Ross. She shivered.
    She did want to learn to separate sex from love,