Sex as a Second Language

Chapter One "You're too young to retire from sex." "But I'm too old to put up with all the bullshit that's involved," said Kat, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. "Besides, the only men I find attractive are the ones I'd be insane to get involved with." This comment received a mixed review from her friends -- a wry smile from Zandra, a look of concern from Marcy.Shit. Kat had learned the hard way that if she didn't present her depression in a sufficiently amusing manner, she'd wind up having to sit through a steady barrage of unsolicited advice.See a therapist. Take an evening course. Try the new generation of mood-altering drugs. Yet as much as Kat longed to avoid being on the receiving end of any more prepackaged wisdom, she wasn't sure that she could sustain the requisite level of wit to satisfy her friends. Her feet were sore from walking ten blocks in three-and-a-half-inch heels and her head was beginning to throb from the drone of fifty other peoples' dinner conversations. "But Kat," said Marcy, "the last time you were single was ten years ago. Are you saying your taste in men hasn't changed at all?" "Well, I no longer fantasize about Kevin Costner." "No, seriously. Let's talk about what would attract you now." There was a look of missionary eagerness on her pretty, fine-boned features. "Marcy, I beseech you, no in-depth analysis." Underneath the table, Kat surreptitiously slipped out of her stilettos. "How about a nice, safe topic, like the pros and cons of government-sponsored torture?" "Very funny." Zandra reached for her martini, jangling the silver bracelets on her arm. "Am I allowed to mention that there's a guy over at that table who's checking you out?" Kat tucked her bare feet under her chair. "You always think men are checking us out. He's probably looking for a waiter." In contrast to Marcy, who seemed to have lost all her fashion sense, Zandra was improving with age. Ten years earlier, when they'd first become friends while watching their toddlers in the playground, Zandra had concealed her hair in bandannas and her body in baggy overalls. Then, sometime last fall, Zandra had stopped trying to restrain her abundant curls and started wearing fitted clothes that flattered her generous, hourglass figure. Not surprisingly, her transformation had coincided with the advent of a new man in her life. Well, not actuallyinher life, Kat thought, since the man only made sporadic guest appearances. But it was this very unpredictability that kept Zandra on constant French-bra-and-matching-panties alert. Marcy, on the other hand, had gone from gamine short hair and funky vintage dresses to a lank bob and shapeless designer shifts. Looking at her now, Kat could hardly recognize the bohemian waif she'd met fifteen years earlier in a summer Shakespeare production. It was a classic case of mommification, but in Marcy's case, she hadn't managed to have the child yet. Thinking about it made Kat realize that she probably needed a style overhaul herself. She'd been wearing the same tailored, mannish chic for over a decade. "No, he's definitely looking at you, Kat," said Zandra, gesturing with a toothpicked olive. "See, the blue shirt, over there?" Kat wondered if she should try something different with her hair. Layer it? Lighten it? Cut it all off? "I see him." "You're not even looking, Kat." "I'm using my peripheral vision. Not my type." Zandra lookedKwitney, Alisa is the author of 'Sex as a Second Language ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780743268905 and ISBN 0743268903.