Page 114 of Hexed Up

“It is,” she wails into her tissue. “The sex with my partner is just awful. I’ve barely even orgasmed.”

“Maybe, you just haven’t met the right guy.”

This is not how I envisioned my roll about on the mattress with Mr Hottie ending. No, I did not expect to find myself giving counselling advice to a Magical Enforcement Officer I’ve only met once before, briefly.

“And sex isn’t everything,” I add, not really believing that for a moment.

“I don’t know what we’re doing wrong.” She peers up at me from behind her tissue, her lashes wet with tears. “Why is it so good with that guy? What’s been the difference?”

“Well,” I say, “you have seen him, right? He’s incredibly hot. And I’m really into him. And all that helps a lot.”

“Clinton’s good looking. He has a really cute smile. And I am into him. So it can’t be that.”

“Right,” I say, struggling – where the hell is Horatio and that cup of tea? “Well, how exactly are you doing it? I mean… there’s got to be a build-up, a warm-up, just like any other form of exercise.”

“What do you mean?” she says, wide-eyed and innocent.

“Erm,” I hesitate then think – what the heck – and decide to dive right in. “You’re doing all the kissing and the touching and all that stuff?” She keeps looking at me while I die inside. “Is he putting any effort into making you come?”

“I think he’s doing his best,” she says, still snivelling.

“Yes, yes, but is he touching you? Is he taking the time to eat you out?”

“Eat me out?!” she squeaks.

“Yes. You know,eatyou out.”

It takes her a minute. I really wonder where this woman gained her sex education. I guess it wasn’t exactly on the syllabus at the Witching Academy.

“Oh. Eat me out!” she says, realisation dawning across her face. Then she frowns. “No, he’s never done that.”

I clap my hands together. “Ha! That’s it. If he’s not putting in the time and effort to do that, then …” I shrug.

“I don’t think he’d want to,” she snots.

“If he loves you, if he’s into you, he will. You’ve just got to be brave enough to ask.”

The woman dabs her eyes again and nods.

“And then you think I’ll…” She mimes an explosion with her hands.

“You never know,” I say. “Although maybe you could warn your colleagues first so that you don’t get any interruptions.”

The officer cringes. “So sorry,” she says again.

Fortunately, I’m saved having to dole out any further sex advice by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I say.

Horatio strides in, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers and looking so hot that I could faint from heat exhaustion.

“I have your tea.”

“Thank you,” the officer says, rising to her feet. “But I think I’d better go. I’ve already intruded enough on your time.” She turns to me. “I will make sure your file’s marked.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” she says, and then she vanishes.