Geekus Interruptus Read Free Page B

had ended in a
flame-out; she’d kind of liked the guy, but not enough to stay with it for more
than a few months. Marcy was feeling old, tired of easy sexual conquests that,
in the long run, meant nothing. She was standing by the keg, trying to change
the double Solo cup in her hand back into a single, when Jess stepped up.
    He introduced himself and began telling Marcy
about the software he designed. She didn’t understand much of what he said. His
words made her head spin on its axis. But she could tell the guy knew his
stuff. Impressive. He mentioned persistent venture capitalists, lunch dates
with CEOs, interviews with online journals. It was all geek to her, but oddly
aphrodisiacal.
    Marcy decided she wanted this guy. She was
attracted to his intelligence and challenged by his disinterested innocence, his
half-attention to what she was saying, the way he looked through her while
texting someone.
    “A guy I work with,” he explained in
defense of his rudeness.
    And Marcy believed him. Because all Geek
Guy did was work. He’d been so busy nerding his way to the big time, he
hadn’t had a chance (or an opportunity, like the one Marcy planned to offer him)
to discover the joys (and miseries, although she wouldn’t, of course, tell him
about those) of sex.
    Marcy was drunk, but not too drunk to think
about her future. She could see Jess there, in her future, working a lot, but
loyal to her, reliable. She asked him to walk her home, and he held her hand
the whole way. She could still remember how that felt, his thin hand, cold and
hard, like packed snow.
    When he followed her up the steps to her
second-floor apartment, she made sure to sway her hips in an alluring manner. She
brewed a pot of dark-roast Colombian while he looked over her bookcase. He said
with a grin, “I read this,” and held up a book left behind by one of her many
ex-boyfriends. A worn copy of Eros and Civilization . Jess was such a
nerd. But appealing, and something about him screamed long-term.
    Marcy stood by the kitchen counter while
Jess sipped her coffee and explained the difference between meta and beta. Or something
like that. She nodded her head, but she wasn’t paying attention, not really.
She was focusing on his lips, which were nice, coral pink, and plump. Virginal.
After a decent interval, she threw herself at him and suckled his mouth. He
submitted with a guttural groan.
    Marcy slipped out of her cotton dress, then
helped Jess slide out of his khaki pants and hooded sweatshirt ( de rigueur for geeks). His boxers were striped. His penis was the perfect size, so she
took it into her mouth, like a popsicle. He pulled out quickly, saying, “I’m
going to come if you do that.”
    Now she was a hundred percent
sure—Jess’s lips were not the only virginal part of his body. Marcy
shivered as he ran his chilly hands across her breasts, but she was excited,
wet, and ready for him.
    She stood up and, taking him by the hand,
led him to her unmade bed. He was tender and gentle, and she came once before
he did. His lovemaking was nice. Not wild, not crazy-making, but sweet. Very
sweet. He slept with his arm draped across her shoulder.
    When Jess admitted to Marcy, over scrambled
eggs and wheat toast, “That was my first time,” she acted shocked. He told her
how he’d studied a sex manual, something clinical he’d ordered online. So he
would be prepared when the opportunity arose.
    “How’d I do?” he asked.
    Marcy said it had been immensely
pleasurable, emphasizing the word immensely . Jess’s gray-green eyes lit
up.
    “I want to do it again,” he said.
    So they did.
    Whenever Marcy recalled their first few
months together, she remembered days (and nights, endless nights) in her
apartment. Sometimes they went to the movies or cooked dinner together, but
mostly they made love. It was sweet, really. Very sweet. He always slept over
afterward.
    Marcy developed strong feelings for Jess,
but these feelings mostly had to do with their