Can't Get Enough of Your Love by J.J. Murray Page A

huh?”
    â€œHmm?”
    â€œYou were just thinking about it, weren’t you?”
    I nod. “It was pretty hot.”
    She smiles. “I knew it.”
    â€œRoger is actually the freakiest,” I say quickly.
    â€œThe white boy?”
    I hate it when she calls him that, though “freaky” is not quite the right word for Roger. “Roger just happens to be the most adventurous.”
    Izzie leans closer. “How so?”
    I know this will make her church drawers moist. “Well, he has this thin gauze instead of curtains in front of this great big window at his apartment, and sometimes we do it behind it, and other times …”
    â€œWhat?” She scoots forward on her chair.
    â€œOther times we leave it completely open, and we don’t care who might walk by and see us.” Okay, I haven’t been bold enough to do that yet, but Izzie won’t know.
    â€œYou nasty girl!”
    â€œIt isn’t nasty. And the next time we’re there, we might just leave the door open a few inches, you know, just in case anyone walking by might want to … join us.”
    â€œWhoo.”
    I always get a “whoo” out of her. “One time Roger attacked me in his kitchenette, doing me right there on the counter while I kept on eating.”
    â€œOh, my God!”
    â€œTrust me, Izzie,
never
try to eat hot soup and make love at the same time.” Though slurping chicken noodle soup while a man is slurping
you
is kind of nice.
    She fans the air in front of her face. “It’s getting hot in here. Let’s go upstairs.”
    We go upstairs, curling up at either end of the couch, me in some ratty sweats, Izzie looking like an advertisement for
Church Women’s Wear Daily
.
    â€œWould you
ever
let two of your men service you at the same time?” she asks.
    â€œNo.” Not unless they tag-teamed me or something. One would have to finish before the other began. I could never do both of them at the same time. I want to live to see forty. “And anyway, why so many perverted questions today? Didn’t you just come from church?”
    Izzie laughs softly. “Yes. But come on, Lana, you’re living one of my main fantasies. You’re living a fantasy that a lot of women have. How many women have the services of
three
men? You’re the only one I know, and I’m naturally curious.”
    â€œAnd horny.”
    â€œI can’t help it.”
    â€œAnd nosy.”
    She looks away, but she’s still smiling.
    â€œCan you ask less perverted questions?”
    â€œOkay, okay.” She thinks a moment.
    â€œDon’t think too long, now.”
    She looks at her hands. “I only seem to have perverted thoughts today. Oh, I know. Let’s say that your friend arrived and you were out of tampons. Who would go out and get them for you?”
    Izzie’s non-perverted questions are often pretty dumb. “I would never ask them to do that.”
    â€œJust suppose, then.”
    I sigh. “Hmm. Karl would say, ‘You trippin’,’ or something like that.”
    â€œHe wouldn’t go?”
    I shake my head. “Probably not. And Juan Carlos
would
go, but he’d come back without them, telling me they were sold out.”
    â€œSo Juan Carlos would lie to you?”
    â€œNot lie, exactly. He’d just be too embarrassed to buy them.” Juan Carlos even seems to have trouble handing me my underwear and bra when we’re through.
    â€œWhat about the white boy?”
    â€œRoger—that’s his
name
, Izzie—Roger would go, but I’d have to write it down in detail. He would probably U-Scan it and bring me the wrong size or brand.”
    She rises and looks at my CDs in a little case on top of the TV. “What a strange collection of music. Do you listen to all of these?”
    â€œIt’s their music, not mine.”
    â€œAnd you leave it out in the open like this?”
    I