Just A Physical Thing … For Now

Women everywhere know a man like Tal Crusoe. He’s a part of most women’s pasts, but he’s a nice part. A part of the past you like to visit frequently and in secret.

He’s temptation incarnate, and he seems to know it. That body of his. That voice. The whole package is like an instrument, and he’s a virtuoso. He knows just how to use it to bring you to grateful tears.

He’s very available. You can look and touch as much as you want. And so can the woman next to you.

So here’s what you have to understand.

Nothing the two of you do means that you’re a couple. You will see each other frequently, but you will not go on a date. If you’re hungry, eat first. If you don’t drink his beer, bring your own.

He is not taking pains to remember your birthday. He’ll give you something for Valentine’s Day – in fact, he might give you a few of those things – but you won’t get flowers or candy or jewelry. You are not on his Christmas card list.

You can put whatever pretty name you want on it; most women settle on “just a physical thing.” Just understand that he is very, very serious about that, even if he comes up with a cute nickname for you.

And you’ll tell him you understand that because the alternative is to refuse what he’s offering you. You have any number of reasons for not refusing. You shouldn’t have to refuse. You’re a modern woman. You’re liberated. You don’t have to live by “good girls don’t” anymore.

Besides, when will you get another chance to say yes?

This is where the trouble starts. Because each time he makes it worth your while, you get attached. It has nothing to do with how modern and liberated you are. It’s oxytocin. First there’s all the cuddling and the first time you fall asleep on him. Then there’s your first marathon session, that long night when you forget how many times he makes you come. And you don’t have to use the word “attached,” but it’s important that you get that you are now attached.

Chances are, though, that even with all the help he’s given you to understand your place, you still don’t quite get it. You’re going to get him a present. You’ll say it’s just something that you saw that made you think of him, and it’s not a big deal. His gratitude is lukewarm because he knows you’re not really telling the truth.

It doesn’t last long after that.

But what if it didn’t have to be that way? What if oxytocin wasn’t a factor?

What if you never had to say no and never had to be confused and never had to face that awkward moment after you realize you’ve gone too far?

Wouldn’t that change everything?

My novel, ILLICIT IMPULSE, explores a world where oxytocin is no longer in control. Tal and Grace and John are in for a real rollercoaster ride as they figure out what happens when the rules don’t quite apply anymore. Once the trip is over, can they go back to their everyday lives?

Or will they discover that there’s no outsmarting the bonding hormone?

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