by Lauren Rowe
I bite my lip.
He exhales. “New topic. Have you always been this way?”
“What way? Annoying?”
“No. So fucking orgasmic.”
“Oh.” I make a face like he just gave me whiplash. “Wow, that was a sudden shift in topic.”
He forges right ahead. “I’ve never been with a woman who has orgasms so easily and often as you do.” He smirks and bites into a fry. “I’m already addicted to making you come. Best game ever.”
I feel a surge of pure elation, but I don’t reply.
“Jesus, if I could come that many times in a row, I’d never leave my room. You must masturbate all the time.”
I blush.
“Oh, come on. Cat got your tongue, Kitty Kat? You wrote me that awesome application and now you’re gonna get all shy on me?”
“It’s different to write all that stuff down than to talk about it, face-to-face.”
“Aw, come on, PG.” He shoots me an incredibly charming look. “It’s just me, remember? Honesty-game. How often do you masturbate?”
I feel my cheeks blazing.
“Come on, Kat. Honesty-game, baby.”
I sigh audibly. “Every day, pretty much. I try not to let a day go by without having an orgasm.”
“Nice.”
“An orgasm a day keeps the blues away.”
“I love it. When did you discover your motor runs so hot?”
My cheeks are hot. “Growing up, my brothers always talked about sex and jerking off as easily as talking about the weather. When I was, like, twelve or thirteen, I asked my oldest brother, Colby, if girls jerk off and got off, too, just like boys, and he said, ‘Sure they do—of course—it’s just a bit harder to tell.’ He was so matter of fact about it, like it was no big deal. He made me feel like one of the guys, like it was perfectly natural and not shameful or weird. So later that day I put the showerhead between my legs and left it there on the massage setting, and within a few minutes, I had my very first orgasm. And I loved it. I mean, I was like, ‘Oh my God, that was the best feeling ever.’ So then every single time I took a shower, I just made it a habit to give myself an orgasm, along with washing my hair and shaving my legs—just a part of my routine. And soon, I was getting off twice in one shower. And then I started reading romance novels as a teen and touching myself and getting myself off... I dunno. I just got really good at it.” I shrug and take a huge bite of my burger.
Josh’s eyes are boring holes into my face.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re incredible,” he says. “The hottest woman alive. Do you have any idea how hot you are?”
“Honesty-game?” I ask.
He smirks. “Of course.”
“Yeah, I think I’m pretty hot.” I giggle and take a bite of a French fry.
He laughs. “Yes, you are, Madame Terrorist. Most definitely.”
“Do you know how hot you are?” I ask.
“Honesty-game?”
I nod.
“Yeah, I think I’m pretty hot.”
We both laugh.
“So when you masturbate, what’s your weapon of choice?” he asks, swigging his drink.
“Why do you wanna know all this?”
“I’m collecting intel for future use. Plus, it’s just plain turning me on.”
I make a face. “Well, recently, the thing I like to use the most while touching myself is the memory of this one really hot guy with a huge dick, standing in a hallway, dripping wet in his tighty-whities, every detail of his hard-on clearly visible beneath his wet briefs.”
Josh grins. “Wow, that’s quite a coincidence, because, recently, I’ve been partial to jacking off to memories of this one incredibly hot terrorist, stomping down a hallway in her bra and G-string, her bare ass-cheeks quaking with fury as she goes.”
I laugh.
“So tell me exactly how you like to masturbate. What works best for you? Lying down? Shower? Toys? Fingers?”
All of a sudden, my clit is tingling. “Why?”
“Because I wanna know. It’ll help me get you off to know exactly what you like.”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Ah. Show me don’t tell me?”
I nod. There’s a beat. I know exactly what he wants me to say. My heart is pounding in my ears. I bite my lip. “Would you like to watch me do it some time?” I ask softly.
He nods, his eyes smoldering. “I thought you’d never ask.”
My cheeks flush. I swallow hard. Why is this turning me on so much?
“But, first, tell me about it.” He licks his lips. “I wanna hear you tell me.”
I bite the tip of my finger. “Well, I really like to do it in the shower, with my fingers. I also have a vibe—a Rabbit. That does the trick the quickest, but sometimes I don’t want quick. Sometimes I like to take my time, let it build and build until I get myself off so hard I have a backache the next day.”
He exhales slowly. “This conversation is turning me the fuck on.”
“I can see that.” I glance down at his huge erection behind his briefs.
“Have you ever used a Sybian?” he asks.
“A what? A Sybian?”
He nods.
“No, I have no idea what that is.”
He looks aghast. “No idea?”
I shake my head.
He takes a huge swig of his drink, clearly energized by whatever grand idea has just popped into his head. “Oh shit. You’re gonna be epic on a Sybian.”
“What is it?” I ask.
His eyes are absolutely blazing with excitement. His dick is rock hard in his briefs. “I’d rather show you than tell you,” he says. He grabs his laptop off the nightstand, turns off the music, and begins searching the Internet for a moment. “Bingo,” he says after a minute. “Oh, PG, we’re gonna have some fun tonight.” He smiles broadly at me. “You trust me?”
“In what context?”
He furrows his brow, obviously offended by my question. “In any context.”
“I’ll answer that question after I’ve read your application.”
“Bullshit. You trust me.”
I shrug. “I’ve been wrong before.”
“You’re not wrong this time.”
Goose bumps erupt all over my skin. I nod.
Elation floods his face. “Excellent.” He grabs his phone and punches out a phone number on his screen, evil-laughing with glee as he does. “Yeah, hey,” he says into the phone. “I’m looking to rent a Sybian tonight, as soon as possible?” He pauses to let someone on the other end of the line speak. “No, tomorrow won’t work—it’s gotta be tonight. Right now. I want it delivered to my hotel room within the next thirty minutes.” Josh says the name of the hotel and pauses to let the person on the other end of the line speak. “Listen, dude. I don’t care if someone else reserved it. That’s not my problem. I want it and I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse. What’s your usual rate for rental and delivery of a Sybian for one night?” He pauses. “Okay, piece of cake. I’ll pay you ten times that, in cash, if you get it to my hotel room within the next thirty minutes.” Josh smiles broadly and winks at me. “Yeah, I thought so.” He repeats the name of the hotel and gives the guy his room number. “Thirty minutes or less, I’ll pay ten times your usual rate. If it’s here within an hour, I’ll pay only five times as much,” he says. “Any longer than that, I’ll pay three times your usual rate, as long as it’s here by midnight.” He smirks. “Yeah, okay, see you soon.”
When Josh hangs up the phone, I’m staring at him, dumbfounded. What the hell did I just agree to?
Josh rubs his hands together. “Oh, Party Girl. You’re in for such a treat. And so am I. Shit. I can’t wait to see this. I’ve never been with a woman who gets off like you do. This is gonna be fucking amazing.”
“You’ve never been with a woman who gets off like me? Really?”
“Really—and, trust me, women get off with me—I’ve got a magic cock—but you’re so
mething special. A fucking unicorn.”
“Seriously?”
“You know you are.”
“No, I don’t. How would I know that? I have no basis of comparison. I’m not the one who sleeps with women.”
“Ha! That’s right—you’ve only slept with one woman.” He winks.
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t sleep with her. I just made out with her.”
“What, exactly, is the difference between making out and sex when there’s no dick involved?”
I think for a minute. “I’m not sure. But we definitely just made out.”
“Well, did you two just kiss and kind of grope each other outside your clothes?”
I blush.
“Holy shit. More than that?”
I don’t reply.
“Did you go down on her?”
“No.”
“She went down on you?”
I blush again. “No. Just kissing and heavy petting. But we weren’t in our clothes.” I clear my throat. “Stop looking at me like that.”
Josh bites his lip. “I’m not looking at you like anything. Tell me all about it.”
“No.”
“Honesty-game.”
“Screw that. So far, the honesty-game has been me spilling my guts to you and getting nothing from you in return.”
He grins. “Now you see how it feels.”
I roll my eyes.
“Come on, PG. Gimme a little dirt about your lesbo-encounter. Look how hard you’re making me.” He motions to the bulge behind his briefs.
I feel myself blushing like crazy. “My friend was just trying to drive her boyfriend crazy. They’d had a fight and he was being an ass and she was trying to make him lose his shit. We were just being, you know, naughty, trying to get him riled up. It was pretty hot, actually. He sat there and watched us.”
“Ah, so that’s what turned you on, huh? Having him watch?”
My cheeks are absolutely blazing. “Yeah. I guess so.”
Josh’s boner is absolutely huge behind his briefs—and the look of arousal on his face is unmistakable.
“Did the boyfriend join in after a bit?”
My heart is racing. “I think I’ll wait to answer that question ’til after I’ve seen your application. The honesty-game only gets you so much when it’s a one-way street. Speaking of which, I do believe it’s time you gimme that damned application.”
“I kiss you; I fuck you; I give you my application—I told you. We’re still in the I-fuck-you portion of our program.” He lies back onto the pillows on the bed, smirking, and puts his arms behind his head—revealing tattoos on the undersides of his biceps that say “Welcome to” on one arm and “the Gun Show” on the other.
“Oh, Jesus, Josh, no,” I say, rolling my eyes. “No, no, no. Those are even worse than freaking ‘YOLO’!”
He laughs.
“You’re hopeless.” I hit my forehead with my palm. “Oh my God. What am I gonna do with you?”
He’s laughing his ass off. “I told you. Drunken tattoos are kind of my thing. These bad boys were a dare.” He flexes his bicep and kisses it.
“Josh. No.”
“Kat. Yes. I had to—I had no choice. Reed ‘double-dared’ me, Kat. What else was I supposed to do?”
I laugh. “Holy hell. From here on out, you’re gonna check with me before you even walk past a tattoo parlor. Do you understand me?”
He laughs. “Thanks, Mom.”
I twist my mouth. “You’re joking, but that shit wouldn’t have happened if you’d had an ounce of fucking parental supervision in your life. You’re just an overgrown child.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, probably. I haven’t had a parent since I was seventeen.”
“You’ve never had anyone tell you to stop acting like an idiot, have you? Everyone around you just double-dares you and goads you on.”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, jeez.” I shake my head. “Call me before you do anything else involving ink on your body. Do you hear me? You’re a freakin’ train wreck, Josh Faraday. You need someone to slap you occasionally.”
He belly laughs. “I know—I totally do.” He’s beaming at me.
I roll my eyes. “That shit would so not fly in my house. My mom would have whipped you the fuck into shape. Jesus God.”
He laughs.
“So what’s the deal with your other tattoos? What other monstrosities am I gonna find on you?”
“No other monstrosities. Everything else is meaningful.”
“What’s the story of ‘OVERCOME’?”
He takes a long sip of his drink. “Sorry, I don’t tell anyone the truth about that one.”
“No?”
He shakes his head.
“What do you say when people ask you?”
“I just say it means, you know, ‘keep your chin up’ or ‘rise above’ or some other inspirational sound-bite like that.”
“But that’s not true?”
“Well, yeah, it’s true. But that’s too simplistic to be the whole truth.”
“What’s the whole truth, then?” My heart is suddenly clanging wildly.
He looks at me with hard eyes for so long, I’m not sure if he’s ever going to answer my question. “I never tell anyone the whole truth about that particular tattoo.”
I bite my lip. “Well, gosh, I never tell anyone my initials spell KUM.” I flash him my most charming smile. “And I never tell anyone I made out with a woman. Or about Garrett Asshole Bennett calling me a slut.” I feel my cheeks burning. “And I never tell anyone about poor, sweet Nate and how I broke his heart.” I frown. Even saying his name makes me feel literally sick with guilt.
Josh looks unimpressed.
“Aw, come on, Josh. I already know the truth about your ‘Grace’ and ‘YOLO’ tattoos, so why not go balls-deep and tell me about the rest of them, too?”
Josh exhales. “Yeah, but I never would have told you the true meaning of ‘Grace.’ Sarah spilled the beans for me, against my will.”
I purse my lips. What more can I do? I can’t force the guy to open up to me.
Josh takes a deep breath. “Shit.” He looks up at the ceiling like he’s trying to make a decision.
I wait, my skin buzzing.
Josh looks at me with sparkling eyes. “Goddamn you, Kat. I really can’t resist a woman who uses the phrase ‘balls-deep.’”
I grin.
He sighs audibly. “I got my ‘OVERCOME’ tattoo so I’d see it every single day and feel inspired to keep going, no matter how much I sometimes just wanna lie down and say ‘I can’t fucking do it anymore.’”
I wait again.
“You sure you wanna hear the whole fucking thing?”
I nod. “Honesty-game.”
“Okay. Here it is. Honesty-game.” He exhales loudly. “I got it because sometimes, it’s all too much. Sometimes, I wanna just... you know... escape.”
I nod, encouraging him to keep talking.
“I got it because my mom was slaughtered while I was sitting at a fucking football game with my dad. Because my poor brother was so traumatized by what he witnessed that day, he still hasn’t recovered.” His voice cracks.
He pauses, collecting himself.
I nod again.
“I got it because my dad killed himself by blowing his brains out, and made sure poor Jonas would find him.” His voice cracks again. “I got it because my dad offed himself without saying goodbye to me or leaving me even a goddamned fucking note.” He swallows hard. “I got it because Jonas drove himself off a fucking bridge that same day, and if he’d succeeded in offing himself, I would have joined him at the bottom of that bridge.” He looks at me with blazing eyes.
I nod again. My skin is electrified.
“You want more? Because I got more.”
I don’t even hesitate in my reply. “I want it all, Josh.”
His eyes are on fire. His chest is heaving. “I got it because, after the thing with my dad, my brother was in a fuck
ing mental institution for almost a full year, totally and completely losing his shit—he didn’t even look like himself, Kat. There was nothing I could do to help him. No joke I could tell to make him laugh. No words of wisdom to make it all better. So I went away to college or else I was gonna fucking kill myself, I swear to God—I was right on the verge—and I joined a fraternity and lived in the loudest, most chaotic house I could fucking find and got shit-faced half the time and high the other half and made friends who saved my fucking life. And from there on out, I’ve been Happy Josh all the live-long fucking day.”
My heart is racing. I swallow hard.
His voice becomes low and quiet. “I got it because sometimes I get so fucking tired of being the sane brother, the one who always rises above, the one you can always count on, the happy one, I just lose my fucking shit, Kat. I lose it. And then I go on a bender of one kind or another until I get whatever crazy fucking shit out of my system—and then I go back to being Happy Fucking Josh just like I always am—just like Jonas needs me to be.”
I swallow hard, trying to alleviate the lump in my throat.
I wait, but Josh doesn’t say anything else.
He clears his throat. “Will you excuse me for a minute?” he says abruptly.
Without waiting for my reply, Josh gets off the bed, beelines to the bathroom, and disappears.
I sit for about a minute, staring at the closed door, trembling, swallowing hard.
And then a dam breaks inside me and I burst into tears.
Thirty-Six
Kat
For ten minutes, I sit and wait for Josh to come out of the bathroom. And in that time, I manage to regain control of my emotions. I’m calm again. My eyes are dry.
I switch the song on Josh’s laptop to Audra Mae (my new favorite) singing “The River.” And then, I sit and wait.
Josh comes out of the bathroom and sits back down on the bed, positioning himself exactly the way he was before he left the room.
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.