Hemingway really had always been fascinated by female sexuality. Meeting Gertrude and Alice had been an eye-opener after the religious and repressed lifestyle he was used to from Chicago. Gertrude certainly was a damn good sport about his obsession, but he never really got the answers he was looking for. And of course it could never become sexual between them, which was probably the main reason he'd managed to remain her friend for so long. Then there had been Jinny, but apparently being fascinated by your Catholic wife's sister and her sex life was somewhat frowned upon.
Abi's revelation had come as a big surprise, but definitely not a bad one. If anything, it had just awakened all of that curiosity again, now with an added level of sexuality to it. It wasn't just any woman, it was Abi, and that made all the difference. Christ, the very thought of it was getting him worked up. He didn't know how he'd coped waiting for bed time.
He watched her move about and set up and his head and body felt like they were buzzing with electricity. "You want me to relax?" he repeated with a chuckle; he felt so far from relaxed it was ridiculous. "No, please... I am... beyond curious now," he admitted. He really had no idea what was going to happen.