The Sexpert

by JA Huss

  “Oh, yeah. We’ll definitely make it work.”

  “Do... you... want... some water?” she gasps out, flopping off me and landing on her back next to me in the bed.

  “Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine... I just... Water.”

  “I’ll get it. Stay here.” I lean over and give her a kiss, which she kind of can’t return because she’s so out of breath. She makes an attempt, but then just gives me a thumbs up.

  It takes about two seconds to get to the kitchen in the small apartment. I look around, surveying the space, and think...

  No.

  Anyway.

  She has the same fridge with the same water dispenser I do. For whatever it’s worth, they do outfit all the places in this building pretty well. When I had them set me up here, I didn’t bother to consider whether or not I’d “like it.” Honestly, I didn’t have much of an intention of staying. Figured I’d get things up and running, maybe even cash out in the next year or so, and then go seek another adventure. But now... I dunno. Maybe I’ll stay a little longer than I planned.

  “Here you go,” I say, handing the water to her as I get back into the bed.

  “How are you... not... winded?” she asks, between gulps.

  I shrug. “Climbing. Best exercise you can get. You should come with me in the real world. I think you’d be good at it.”

  She shakes her head. “Heights,” she manages to get out.

  She has the sheets pulled in between her legs, covering her nakedness just up the middle. I rub her exposed thigh. “Sorry,” I say. “It just takes me a long time when I’m wearing a condom.”

  “No, no, it’s fine,” she says, her breathing returning to normal. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop coming.”

  “Yeah. Guys hate it when they make girls come a bunch of times.”

  She looks at me to see if I’m serious, then starts giggling. She sets down her water. A more serious look parks itself on her face. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Do I miss what?”

  “Art.”

  “You mean do I miss making art?” She nods. “Nah. I mean I love beautiful things. And I love making beautiful things, so in that regard sure, but not really. Besides, I feel like what I do now has its own artistic value. Kind of. Maybe that’s a justification, but with the art world especially... I dunno. Like everything, there’s just so much bullshit involved that it starts to feel... I mean, it’s my art. Y’know? Which sounds redundant, but it is. I care about it. So, like, I could never figure out how to get OK with turning it into a money-making thing. It would’ve felt... not good. And, of course, the art world is filled with Serildas, so...” Her skin feels good under my fingers. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering. Were you good at it? Making art?”

  “Well... Subjective. But... Yeah. Not bad.”

  “You’re kind of good at everything, aren’t you?”

  “No, not really. I just don’t really pursue things I’m not good at. There’s a difference. If I have one strength, it’s knowing my strengths. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “I dunno. Like, how long you been at Le Man?”

  “Couple years.”

  “You like it?”

  She shrugs. “It’s a job. I mean, I think I’m OK at the stuff I do, but... I dunno. It’s certainly not my art.”

  “Sure. Do you have an art? Something you feel passionately about?”

  She thinks about this like it’s the first time anyone has ever asked her the question. After a long moment, she says, “Being a good person, I guess.”

  A puff of breath escapes me. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Why? Is that dumb?”

  I get a sad but totally content smile. “No, no, cupcake. It is the opposite of dumb.”

  I lean down and kiss her thigh. Then I run my nose under the sheet and start inching toward her inner thigh. She pushes me back.

  “What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just... I have to work in the morning.”

  “So do I.”

  “Yeah, but not really. You run the place. You can do whatever you want. Also, you have a different kind of stamina. Apparently.”

  I pull back. Unhappily. But I do. “OK.”

  “Soooo... Are you gonna go?”

  “Go? Where?”

  “Back to your apartment.”

  “Now?”

  She nods.

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “Where? Back to your apartment?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I mean... If you want to. Do you want to?”

  “Go back to my apartment? Not particularly.”

  “So... You wanna... Stay?”

  “Here?”

  She nods.

  “With you?”

  She nods.

  “Yes.”

  She smiles.

  “So... OK.”

  “OK.”

  There’s a brief silence where we both grin at each other. Then she starts to get out of bed.

  “Where are you going?” I ask. “Are you leaving?”

  “No.” She slaps at me as if to say, You silly Billy. “I wanna lay out my clothes for tomorrow so that I can sleep an extra five minutes in the morning.”

  “It’s two A.M.”

  “Later in the morning.”

  She walks over to her closet and the silhouette of her body in the dim light coming only from the Hello Kitty night light by the bed (amazing) freezes my breath for a second.

  “Your body is so incredible,” I tell her.

  “Noooo,” she starts to protest.

  “It is. It took me a minute to fully grasp just how incredible it is. You’re working with a loaded clip, kid.”

  I can’t see her blush, but I can feel it. “Well... Thank you.”

  She tosses a shirt and skirt onto the edge of the bed. I can’t help but notice that they’re kind of exactly the same as the ones I see her in all the time.

  “Hey.” That’s me. “Why do you hide?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No, no, not an accusation, just... It only took me a minute to see it because you do a pretty good job of covering up your... assets. But why? I mean, it’s fine, just... Where does that come from?”

  She turns to look at me. Again, like no one’s ever asked her these kinds of questions before.

  “No one’s ever asked me these kinds of questions before.”

  “That’s fine,” I say. “You don’t have to answer. Just curious.”

  “No. It’s OK. I just... I don’t know. I mean, I guess I was always kind of a nerd. Like, I read Philip K. Dick books when all the other girls were reading Judy Blume. And I dressed in Star Wars t-shirts and played volleyball, so I got the reputation as maybe being a lesbian...”

  “Thought that was softball.”

  “It’s both.” I nod. “So, I dunno, y’know? The world sees you one way long enough and you kind of become that thing. So I guess the way I dress, especially for work and stuff, it’s like... a uniform. You know? A way to be identified. Or, in my case, not be identified. Like, ‘Don’t look at me. Nothin’ to see here.’ Right? Like it just kind of makes me ignorable. Is that a word?” I nod again. “Thought it was. So. Maybe that’s why? Also, boring clothes are affordable.” She shrugs and smiles.

  “OK,” I say, jumping up off the bed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cupcake, you are in no way ignorable. Totally a word,” I say, fanning through her closet. “And it’s time you stopped trying to hide.”

  “Seriously. What are you doing?” She reaches for my hand to stop. “You’re gonna mess it up. I have all my stuff color-coded.”

  I take her hand, hold her wrist, and look her in the eye. “Hey. Trust me.” She draws her chin back into her neck. “Do you trust me?” She nods, slightly and war
ily. “Good. Will you let me pick out what you’re gonna wear tomorrow?”

  “Why do you want to?”

  I take a beat, stroke her cheek, and tell her, “Because. I love beautiful things.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - EDEN

  “Good morning, ladies!” I sing out to Charlotte and Lynn at reception when I step off the elevator.

  “Good morning, Eden!” they both chime back. But then Charlotte does a double-take and says, “Eden, what are you wearing?”

  I twirl for her. Well, not quite twirl. This black pencil skirt Andrew chose for me is so tight at the knees, I have to take ridiculous little baby steps. It’s more of a hop than a twirl. “Do you like it?” I ask, pushing my glasses up my nose. “My boyfriend picked it out this morning.”

  I feel justified in calling Andrew my boyfriend. I mean he stayed the night. We had ridiculously hot sex, and he was still there in the morning when I woke up.

  Plus, picking an outfit from my closet… that’s reserved for boyfriends only. Casual hook-ups don’t do that.

  “Oh, my God, girl,” Lynn says. “You are the sexiest librarian ever.”

  “Thank you!” I say.

  And it’s not even that far off my usual outfit, either. I mean, OK. The skirt is a bit much. But I have the curves to pull off a pencil skirt, that’s why I bought it in the first place. I just never had the nerve to wear it before. And I’m wearing a crisp, white, button-down shirt, just like I usually do. Except this one is just a little low-cut in the cupcake department.

  I don’t normally wear heels but today I’m rocking those babies. They might not be Prada, but they are four inches high and make my calves look fantastic.

  Today… I feel like a Sexpert.

  I baby-step my way down the hallway, calling out my usual hellos. Sylvia is at the printer and does a double-take too. In fact, everyone is looking at me, and normally that would make me very self-conscious, but ya know what? Doing these Sexpert videos has really upped my self-confidence. I mean, none of it seems so scary anymore. I’ve always been outgoing but I never liked to flaunt my body. I think it goes back to middle school. I developed early, so I had perfect cupcakes by the time I was fourteen. And it was a real bummer back then. I was an athletic child. I did all those years of gymnastics and volleyball. I even ran track for a year. But then, of course, these ginormous mounds on my chest got in the way of everything. And all the boys made rude comments about them.

  Until the Sexpert came along my breasts were always something I wanted to hide.

  Not anymore.

  I don’t want to show them off, exactly, but tastefully accentuating them doesn’t hurt.

  I stow away my purse when I get to my desk, then log on and open my email.

  “Oh,” I say, noticing I have something from Zoey.

  Reminder! Stevie Is Turning One! the headline reads.

  Oh, shit! I almost forgot about that. She sent out invitations weeks ago, so I wasn’t expecting another one in this reminder, but there’s a link to click.

  When I do, a fabulous animation begins to play. With upbeat country music, and a little boy wearing cowboy boots line-dancing with a little cowgirl, and a whole bunch of confetti spilling across my screen.

  And at the end there’s a message from Zoey. I know I already sent out those boring plain-text email invitations, but so many good things have happened to us since then, I wanted to resend and make it all spectacular! Please come to our party tomorrow at noon to celebrate Stevie’s first birthday!

  Wow. She’s right. So many good things have happened to us. The Sexpert is going crazy. And the numbers haven’t stopped climbing. They just keep going up. Even the Kit-Kat video has almost half a million views now.

  Hmmmm. I wonder… maybe Andrew would like to go to the party with me? I mean, Zoey is my BFF. If we’re going to be a thing, he should meet her. So I forward it to him and add a little message asking if he’d like to come along.

  I don’t expect a quick answer, but less than five minutes later, he replies. Like he’s been waiting for me to email, or call, or text or something.

  And it’s a yes!

  My phone dings a text.

  Andrew: I’d love to go. Thanks for the invite. I’m real busy today with work, but I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon.

  I send back a whole line of red hearts.

  Then he messages again. You look fantastic this morning. God, I’m killing myself for having to work. I want to eat you for lunch!

  My mouth drops open in unexpected glee.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What?” I say, hiding my phone as I look up to find Gretchen looming over my desk.

  “This isn’t personal time, Eden. We’re still in the middle of a crisis. I need repurposed articles for this weekend on my desk by noon.”

  “No problem, Gretchen. I’m working on two right now.”

  “No, right now you’re flirting with someone on your phone. And what is with this… this…” She points her finger up and down my body. “This new look? It’s not work-appropriate.”

  “What?” I ask, looking down at myself then pushing my glasses up my nose as I meet her gaze. “It’s a long skirt and a button-down shirt.”

  “Well… it makes you look… sexy.”

  I smile. “Thank you. I think so too.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment, Eden. Go back to your old outfits.”

  And then she turns on her heel and walks off.

  Janet, the girl on the other side of my cubicle partition who does website maintenance, peeks her head over and says, “Fuck her, Eden. You look great. She’s just jealous. And if I were you, I’d tell Pierce that she’s taking credit for your ideas. Because that’s bullshit too.”

  She disappears behind the blue upholstery partition before I can even say anything back.

  But I think about that for a moment.

  Because I do look great. And my ideas are the ones that are keeping this stupid magazine in the spotlight right now. I didn’t rewrite anything, but I did send all my suggested edits and graphics up to the blog department and they’re using them. And we’re getting hits. Not Sexpert numbers, of course. But more people have been visiting Le Man online since I started repurposing articles than they were before.

  So yeah. F-you, Gretchen.

  Myrtle texts me just before noon, asking me to meet her for lunch. So I package up my weekend articles for Gretchen, send them over to her, and then grab my purse and baby-step my way over to the elevator.

  Myrtle is already there, looking down at her phone.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  She looks up at me, opens her mouth to say something, and then stops. She blinks. Three times fast. “Holy. Shit. Eden.”

  “What?” I ask “What’s wrong?”

  “You look hot, sister.” And then she holds up a finger. “Oh, my God. You and Andrew are totally a thing, aren’t you?”

  How does she do that? Read my innermost thoughts and come up with the right deduction every single time? It’s like Myrtle has her finger on my pulse. But not just my pulse. The pulse of the world. She’s… worldly. And ever since I met her two years ago, I’ve wanted to be just like her. Have what she has. Command men the way she does.

  But maybe not anymore. I mean the way Andrew sees me, it’s almost the way I see Myrtle. He thinks I’m sexy. And when I’m with him I feel sexy.

  And old me might think he’s making me feel that way. But new me thinks I’m feeling sexy because… well, the Sexpert has given me confidence I never had before. It changed me.

  I didn’t think it would. Not in a positive way. But it did.

  I think that’s what Myrtle is picking up on. Maybe? My growing self-esteem?

  That and… well, she just happened to be there when the whole Andrew thing started so she’s probably been taking secret notes about us.

  “We seem to be,” I reply back, nodding excitedly, as we get into the elevator, she uses her magic card to skip all the stops
on the way down, and we descend. “We just… we just click. And bump into each other in the most unexpected ways. And yeah…” I tell her everything that happened these past few days. The date last night, and the outfit picking this morning.

  And just as the elevator doors open to the lobby, she whisper-yells, “You’re dating a billionaire!”

  “Holy shit,” I say. “I never even thought of that before. I guess I am.”

  Weird.

  And even though I think Myrtle is probably the most interesting person I’ve ever met and hang on every word she says, I tune her out this time.

  Because she’s right. Andrew is a billionaire. And if he’s now my boyfriend… wow. Talk about dating up.

  Can something like that work?

  I mean… why would he want to date me?

  Is it because he still thinks I’m the Sexpert so he’s trying to trap me?

  God, I really hope that’s not it. I will die of sadness if that’s why he’s going out with me because… because I think I’m falling for this guy. I think I really, really like him a lot. I caught myself daydreaming about what our kids would look like earlier this morning. And I even scribbled Eden Hawthorne on a piece of paper on my desk as I did it, just to see if I like the way it looks.

  I do. It looks fabulous.

  My heart will be broken if this is all a setup.

  The next morning, I wake up early so I can plan my Stevie’s First Birthday outfit. I want to make Andrew’s head turn, but still keep it G-rated at the same time. So I choose a bright yellow sundress, a light cropped red sweater, and a pair of red wedge-heeled sandals.

  I feel like a bright ray of sunshine.

  Then I walk over to the local bakery and pick up Stevie’s cake. I got a little welcome-to-the-neighborhood coupon when I moved in, so I gave that to Zoey to use, since we’re still so strapped for cash until we finally get paid. The cake’s got a whole cowboy theme going on.

  Right at noon, my doorbell chimes.

  I take a deep breath and straighten my dress as I walk to the door and pull it open.

  Andrew stands there, one hand propped up on the doorjamb, grinning at me.

  “Hey,” I say, kinda nervous.

  “Hey yourself,” he says, leaning in to kiss me.