The piano player was doing a soft rendition of They Can’t Take That Away From Me as she pulled her packet of Yasmin contraceptive pills out of her purse and rested them on the white linen tablecloth. Granted, they were in a booth in the rear of the restaurant, but he smiled in surprise at her boldness.
"Upping the ante, huh?" he chuckled.
"You’re the one who thinks I can’t talk about certain things," she replied smoothly, arching her eyebrows. "Come on, you wanted to talk about my birth control. So let’s talk about it. I use Yasmin."
His hand drifted from his wine glass, and he took two fingers, softly caressing her arm. "Yasmin. Sounds like the latest celebrity perfume."
She slapped his hand playfully, the air from her quick gesture making the candle flutter. "Don’t be flippant. If I didn’t take Yasmin… Well, let’s just say your little soldier would have to wear his raincoat tonight. Maybe he still should – or maybe he won’t get a chance to stand at attention at all."
"Okay, I apologize," he murmured, leaning forward. "I should learn about this stuff. Go ahead, tell me about Yasmin."
"Ah, the enlightened male!"
"Don’t be so cynical," he said, reaching for her hand. "Seriously, I’m interested. Yasmin. All I need to know."
She laughed, rolling her eyes, feeling how ridiculous this situation was. "Fine. I talk about Yasmin, and you tell me – honestly – what you’re hoping to do with me tonight."
He clucked his tongue and said a bit petulantly, "After such a long time, I thought I should keep it a surprise."
"Oh? And here I thought I was worth the wait."
He shook his head, laughing, and poured them some more wine. "You start: Yasmin."
"Hmmm, okay," she said. "Yasmin, uh… It’s the only oral contraceptive on the market that has something called drospirenone. It’s a progestin that doesn’t come from testosterone."
"I’m impressed," he answered, back to stroking her arm. "But then you’re a biochemist. I’d expect you to know that stuff. You’re in your comfort zone. We’re supposed to be talking about taboo subjects."
"And it’s your turn," she prompted.
He chuckled, eyes dropping shyly to the table. "Okay. I was hoping we’d go back to my place, where I could start a fire and it would be nice to sit in front of it. I’ve got this great after dinner liqueur that I don’t like to drink alone–"
"That’s all background stuff," she cut in, gently brushing a comma of hair away from his eyes. "You’re supposed to be talking about what you want to do with me. You’re the lawyer. Be precise in your case. And persuasive."
"Next turn," he said. "I promise. Back to Yasmin. And why you really take it."
"You won’t find it very sexy," she warned him. "The truth is it gives me a shorter, lighter period, and I don’t cramp as much, and I have a more regular cycle. It also helped me with an acne problem I had. And with Yasmin, there’s reduced risk of things like anemia, ovarian cysts, certain kinds of cancers… I had an ectopic pregnancy scare years ago in college – scared the hell out of me. The research says there’s a lower incidence of that with Yasmin. Told you it wasn’t sexy."
"It’s smart, and being smart is sexy," he answered. "You take care of yourself, and you watch what you put in your own body. I admire that." He made the compliment so breezily, without a hint of self-consciousness, that she smiled warmly at him, squeezing his hand back. "So this Yasmin is–"
"Excuse me, but it’s your turn," she reminded him.
Yasmin and A Seductive Explanation
"And I was just getting interested," he complained, but he saw that wasn’t going to work, so he dropped his voice low and confessed, "Fine. We’d stretch out in front of the fire on a couple of blankets, and I was hoping – hoping, mind you – I could talk you out of that gorgeous red strapless number you have on and allow me to paint you."
"You need to know about Yasmin and birth control for the sake of painting me?" she giggled. "All of this to make me immortal on canvas?"
"Who said anything about a canvas?" he replied smoothly. "I have the absolutely softest sable brush to tickle down your belly and over your thighs, caressing your skin for a good… long… time."
She stared at him a long moment and then realized he was waiting for her to take her turn. It was hard to think up more about Yasmin when she could hear the crackle of the fire and picture that brush in languorous strokes. Damn it, she hoped she wasn’t blushing. "Yasmin…"
"Yes?"
"I can talk about it," she insisted.
"Well, so far it’s been an informative but somewhat dry recital," he observed, resting his chin in his hand. "No side effects, I trust?"
She looked towards the jazz band. She actually had to think about it to remember. "It sounds weird, but it was hard to wear my contact lenses for a while, and I did get some headaches, but things gradually improved."
"Yes, but the reason why you’re taking Yasmin–"
"Is because I like having something that can make me 99 per cent sure I won’t get pregnant."
"Just having that certainty?" he teased.
She leaned in and gently pressed her forehead against his. "No, I take Yasmin because when you’re inside me, I want to feel the real you and not through latex. I don’t want us to fumble around – I want to wrap my legs around the back of yours and bite into your shoulder until you can’t hold back anymore, and I want to feel all of you. I’ve been taking my Yasmin pill every day, and I always remember, because I know I want this to be one very memorable night. Still think I can’t talk about certain things?"
He swallowed hard, and as he shook his head for no, she nibbled his bottom lip. "You better have this sable brush you’re talking about. I don’t see the waiter – can you go get him to bring our check?"
"I would if I could stand up," he whispered. The waiter sailed by, and he signaled as she slipped the Yasmin back into her purse. "Umm, by the way, I don’t know if you’re interested in this or if it hurts my ‘case’, but I’m crazy in love with you."
"I know," she said, smiling, reaching for her coat.
She would tell him later how she felt. He was a smart guy – he should already know that she also relied on Yasmin because she was taking that next step in trust with him. But maybe he needed the words of confirmation, too. She’d give them, but not just yet. The suspense would make him work harder tonight, she thought mischievously.
