Beth shook her head as she disassembled the store mannequin, laying all the poor girl’s parts out on the floor. Whatever Beth pretended to be here at the White Orchid, Eric Donovan was her own personal sex class, teaching her things she’d been unable to figure out herself. He was like…a learning aid. Because she already knew everything. She understood it. But she couldn’t process it. Take, for example, the G-spot. She knew all about it. She’d even assumed she might have one. But she’d figured it was like any erogenous zone. What worked for some women might not work for her. Boy, had she been wrong. It was so simple that she felt stupid for needing Eric to show her. It was her own damn body, after all. And the answer was easy: all the toys in the world wouldn’t do a damn thing for her if she wasn’t aroused. Stimulated. Shaking with need. Sex started in the brain, not the G-spot or anywhere else. God, even while masturbating she’d been thinking too much. She was going to have to find a way to get past that, because she couldn’t keep Eric around as a sexual aid forever.
