The Sexpert

by JA Huss

  “Honestly, you don’t have to get me anything else.”

  “No, I really kind of do. Swing by after work? Six? Six-thirty?”

  “Can we say seven? I’ll wanna run to my place and change.”

  “Sure. Seven’s fine. Just come on in when you get there. I’ll leave the door open.”

  “OK,” she says, a small smile finally on her lips.

  “OK,” I say, a probably sad smile on mine.

  I give her a tiny, tiny kiss. It’s only tiny because she’s at work, otherwise I’d really lay one on her.

  Because that’s what you do before you kill someone, right? Really plant one on ’em? A kiss before dying.

  “See you tonight,” I say, and then turn and walk away.

  I make bad choices! That’s what she said to me on the rock wall. I make bad choices.

  I know, cupcake, I know. But you’ve got four hours and fifteen minutes to correct that pattern.

  Please do, I think, as the clock keeps ticking.

  Sexpert Advice

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - EDEN

  “So why were you calling me earlier?” Zoey asks. I have her on speaker phone while I put on my makeup because I’ve been telling her all about my upcoming date with Andrew.

  “When?”

  “When I called you and told you about Pink Lady Media. You said you were just about to call me. What was that all about?”

  “Oh,” I grumble. And then I tell her the whole story about Pierce and his offer. Which you wouldn’t think I’d have forgotten about after how panicked I was earlier, but Andrew asking me out on another date—this is a date, right? It is—kinda made all my worries disappear. Plus, we did get that offer from Pink Lady Media. So yeah. My world was righted again. Andrew and I are still a thing and Zoey and I have a new opportunity.

  Things are actually perfect. No need whatsoever to out myself to Pierce. Pierce who? And that makes me chuckle. I don’t need him anymore. He can take his offer and shove it up—

  “Huh,” Zoey says. “Actually, wow. How did you keep that to yourself all day? I mean, why didn’t you call me back and tell me?”

  “Oh, well. Sorry. I was distracted this afternoon. And I figured you didn’t want to take the offer anyway.”

  “Right. We don’t want that offer.” But then she goes silent for a few seconds, and I don’t say anything either because I’m curling my eyelashes and I have to do weird things with my mouth when I do that.

  When I finish, I blink quickly six times and say, “So yay for us, right? We got exactly what we wanted and I didn’t have to go crawling up to Pierce’s office like a puppy begging for scraps. And Gretchen can suck it, because she steals all my ideas. And Andrew is definitely interested in me. He sent me that gift and he asked me over to his place tonight. Things are really falling into place. Everything is perfect. I’m probably gonna marry him.”

  Silence.

  “Zoey? Shit,” I say, picking up my phone. “Did I lose you?”

  “No,” she says. “No, I’m still here.”

  “Oh, my God, what’s wrong?”

  “That’s kind of a great offer Pierce made us. Don’t you think?”

  “Is it?” I say. “I mean, Pink Lady said you could work from home, right?”

  “I know, but Pink Lady is independent media and you know how those are. Here one day, gone the next. Le Man… Le Man is legitimate.”

  “You’re not seriously thinking I should—well, I can’t now. The deal is over, Zoey. It ended at five o’clock! Besides, I already lied to Andrew about this. So many times. If we take Pierce’s offer, he’s gonna know I was lying and it’s going to ruin everything!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about the offer. I might’ve told you to just… do it.”

  I take deep breaths. Steeple my fingers. Place them against my chin. And say, “Pink Lady is perfect.”

  “But Le Man—”

  “No. Jesus. You know how much I want to get out of there, Zoey. Pink Lady is perfect.”

  She sighs.

  “Pink Lady—“

  “I get it,” Zoey says. “But you should’ve told me about the offer while it was still in effect, Eden. Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve discussed it.”

  I want to get mad at her right now and I never get mad at Zoey. But… I take a deep breath and calm myself down, then say, in a low and even tone, “We started this because we wanted independence. We wanted things a corporation like Le Man and Corporate Solutions couldn’t give us, remember?”

  “I remember, but Eden. God. Shit. I dunno. I mean… what I really want is stability. Ya know? I have a baby to take care of. And maybe we’d have talked it all through and said no anyway, but now… now I kinda feel like… you took that decision away from me.”

  “I cannot believe you just said that.”

  “Well, I can’t believe you didn’t even bother to mention this offer to me. Eden! That was a fabulous offer! And I didn’t even get a say. We’re partners. You should’ve told me!”

  I don’t know what to say. I am… mad? Sad? I’m not sure.

  “I think,” Zoey says, “that what you did… was a little bit selfish. Because… because maybe you just sold out our best opportunity to make this work because you wanted to keep your stupid boyfriend who, in my opinion, isn’t even your boyfriend. You sold me out for a fling. And I’m upset about it.”

  “Oh, my God! How can you even think that? I put everything on the line for this Sexpert stuff. I’ve been lying to everyone to keep our secret. And Andrew is not a fling! He’s a serious prospect!”

  She stays silent for a few moments. Then she says, “Stevie is crying. I need to go.”

  And then I get three quick beeps.

  And Stevie was not crying. She just lied to me!

  I huff at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. “What the hell?”

  Because I don’t get it. Every time I have a great day something goes wrong.

  Sexpert goes viral, my boss accuses us of stealing his idea.

  We get a fabulous career opportunity and my best friend gets angry about a lost one.

  Just… what the hell?

  I blink at myself. Take another deep, deep breath. And say, “Pull yourself together, Presley. You can fix things with Zoey tomorrow. Tonight… tonight is the first night of your new future.”

  And because I’m someone who ravels myself up in the face of adversity, I do that.

  I put on my shimmery light blue summer dress, my most sparkling earrings and necklace, and fluff my blonde hair until it looks just fucked.

  Because this is my night and I’m gonna make it count.

  At five minutes to seven I leave my apartment, take the elevator up to the penthouse—trying not to hyperventilate with excitement—and find the door cracked open.

  Just like he said it would be.

  I knock anyway. “Knock, knock!” I call out. “I’m here!”

  And then I smooth an imaginary wrinkle out of my dress and step into his apartment looking and feeling like a million bucks.

  “Andrew?” And then I see him. Standing out on the terrace with his back to me. Hands in his pockets as he looks towards the sun just starting to dip below the mountains off in the distance.

  He turns, his body backlit by the sunset, his face hidden, and we walk towards each other.

  “Wow,” I say. “That’s some view.”

  “Yes,” he says, his hand reaching for mine as we close the distance between us. “It’s pretty spectacular.”

  I take his hand and let him pull me in for a kiss… on the cheek.

  That makes me giggle. “Just a cheek kiss?” I ask, grinning up at him. “That’s all I get?”

  “We’ll see,” he says.

  I laugh again, but this time it’s smaller. “Um… is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Is something wrong with you?”

  “Uh. Nope,” I say, starting to feel odd. “Nope. Everything’s pretty good with me.”

 
He nods his head and then points to something behind me. “I wanna show you something. Come have a seat.”

  “Wow,” I say, taking in his huge outdoor television. “I didn’t notice this last time. Pretty cool. Are we watching a movie?”

  He sighs. “Sorta. Have a seat. Let me find the remote.”

  I do… because I don’t know what else I can do.

  But suddenly everything feels wrong here.

  The way it felt on the phone just before Zoey got angry with me.

  I watch him cross the terrace, pick up the remote, and then point it at the TV.

  And that’s when an eighty-inch Sexpert appears.

  My cupcakes, in all their glory.

  And my voice.

  My voice.

  Explaining to my audience how to give a blowjob.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - ANDREW

  “What the hell is this?” she asks, standing back up and turning to face me.

  And I’m sad. Because she looks beautiful. Her blue dress is catching the light from the setting sun, sparkling in a way that makes her look like something out of a dream. And her golden hair is ruffled, just like her personality. Looking just-fucked. And she’s wearing jewelry, and makeup, and…

  She thinks this is a date.

  And it’s not.

  “I didn’t want to do it this way. But I gave you all the chances to come clean. And you just… you just kept lying to me.”

  “What? You asked me up here to… to… ambush me?”

  “If your man has a delicious cock, it’s easy to lick him like a lollipop,” the Sexpert says on the TV as she—as Eden—demonstrates with a banana.

  “No. Not to ambush you. To ask you... why? Why the hell didn’t you just own up to this? You knew I was going to figure it out. Hell, I don’t even need the new app to ID you. I can hear you sitting right here.”

  “Take him in your hand and give him a few pumps to let him know you’re ready,” the Sexpert whispers.

  “Jesus Christ! Can you turn that off, please?”

  “Then slide your tongue up and down his shaft to whet your appetite for the banana cream pie he’s about to serve up—“

  “Is this uncomfortable for you? Yeah. That’s tough. Well, as awkward as this is for you, for me… for me it’s painful. Because I like you—”

  “I like you too!”

  “But I can’t be lied to. I just... I can’t.”

  “But listen, Andrew. This Sexpert stuff. It was a secret, OK? I mean it’s got nothing to do with you.”

  “And then, when you’re both good and ready, slip him into your mouth and…”

  “Turn it off!” she yells, coming at me. She snatches the remote from my hand and clicks a button. But instead of turning off, the footage switches to another video.

  “A sprinkle of nuts,” the Sexpert says, “is a more appetizing way to think of tea-bagging.”

  “Oh, my God!” Eden says, pushing another button on the remote.

  But it just switches to another video. Because I knew she’d do this and so I set it up. Yes, it’s a mean thing to do. Whatever.

  She clicks again, and again—but each time it’s a new version of her as the Sexpert. Her cupcakes. Her hands demonstrating sex toys, and props. Her words spilling out of her mouth—in her voice—as she describes… well. Sex.

  Finally, after several agonizing seconds of this, she finds the pause button and the videos stop, her cupcakes frozen in the act as she shows viewers how to titty-fuck a cannoli, the cream center spilling out the end.

  She looks at the screen. Then at me.

  And she is horrified. Humiliated. Paralyzed.

  I shrug but shake my head at the same time. Because it’s got everything to do with me. “I asked you, over and over again, if you were her. And you said no.”

  “What else could I say? It was a secret!”

  “I told you. I was on your side.”

  “Well, clearly you’re not now, are you? What exactly are you doing here? Trying to ruin my life?”

  “Looking out for my best friend. Like he asked me to.” I shrug again. “Sorry, cupcake. That’s who I am.”

  She says nothing.

  “I asked you what was wrong the first night I got here. You know? The one where Pierce told you all about his plans on how to find the Sexpert and you just sat there listening? And then you got weird and had to go to work, remember that?”

  She just stares at me. Saying nothing.

  “Lie number one. So you could what? Go call your partner in crime, Zoey, and tell her everything Pierce just told you? Was that why you got weird and had to leave that night? So you and Zoey could come up with a plan?”

  Still. Nothing.

  “Lie number two was after we had our sexy time up there.” I point at the pool up on the roof. “When you used all your little Sexpert secrets to….” And then I have to laugh and shake my head. “And your excuse when I asked you—point blank, on the rock wall—if you were the Sexpert—your excuse was… ‘I’m not very good at this. So I watched her videos for pointers.’ Right?”

  She clenches her jaw and crosses her arms. Still saying nothing.

  “You slapped me in the face for accusing you, for fuck’s sake.”

  And now I’m starting to get pissed off. Because this girl has some nerve.

  “Lie number three. After the art gallery. You said the reason you had cupcakes on your wall was because all that stuff came from your childhood bedroom. And I, like a fool, said ‘OK.’ And it really was OK. It really was. I was on board with the lies. I bought into them. Because I like you. I like you a lot. And I was willing to forget all about my silly Sexpert accusations because you told me it wasn’t true.”

  She blinks at me. Three times slowly. And says nothing.

  “And you invite me on a date to meet your best friend. It’s a big step and you were very excited and blah, blah, blah. But then… but then I get there and I go looking for the bathroom and accidentally find something else instead. Evidence I didn’t need because I already knew. But by that time I was lying to myself just as much as you were lying to me.”

  She lets out a long breath of air. She didn’t know this part.

  “And look, this is... I mean this is not really a big deal. Y’know? I mean, not really. I mean it’s a big deal insofar as it’s a big deal to Pierce and it’s clearly a big deal to you, but in the grand scheme of things... Eh.”

  She’s starting to tear up a little.

  “I mean, hell, we were really only just getting to know each other. It’s a good thing we didn’t get too far down the path and I started telling you anything real, because God knows what would have happened then. I mean I’m working on some shit at work that... Well, it’s the kind of thing you can only share with people you trust. So...”

  A single tear falls now. It hurts, but I can’t stop. I wish I could. But I can’t.

  “But I kept hoping and hoping and hoping. And no, you didn’t hurt me. Per se. Not really. But I’m not gonna lie, I really, really thought that you’d make the right move. The solid move. You can see where this is going, right? How, when I came to you today, practically begging you to tell me the truth and take Pierce up on his offer, I had high hopes that you’d come through. That you wouldn’t turn out to be that girl. The liar that it turns out you are.”

  I pause. Wanting her to tell me anything. Wanting her to defend herself and say… I dunno. That she made a mistake? That she wasn’t thinking clearly? That she panicked, and she takes it all back?

  I dunno.

  But it doesn’t matter. Because she says none of that.

  She just nods her head. Breathes through her nose several times. Then nods her head again and…

  Walks out.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - EDEN

  You know you’ve been a terrible friend to someone when bad things happen and you can’t bring yourself to call them and cry about it. Because they needed you to be there for them once, and you weren’t.

  And
maybe you are a bad friend and a liar, but you’re not a hypocrite so you know that you don’t deserve the sympathetic ear of that friend.

  That’s why I don’t call Zoey when I get home from Andrew’s intervention.

  I don’t deserve her.

  I was a bad friend. I was only thinking of myself. And I don’t deserve to be consoled over the absolutely humiliating experience I just went through.

  It’s my own fault, anyway.

  So I cry. I take off my pretty dress. I take off my jewelry and wash the makeup off my face. And I pull my perfectly mussed-up, just-fucked hair into a ponytail.

  I change into shorts and a t-shirt and lie down on my bed face first hugging my pillow.

  And I cry.

  Alone.

  Not because I was humiliated. Not because I have no one to talk to.

  But because I was a bad friend to both of them.

  And I have no one to blame for my sadness but myself.

  I get up in the morning like it’s just another day because I have to.

  I take a shower. Put my hair up in a ponytail. Slide my glasses on. And put on my uniform.

  Wait.

  I stare at my reflection the mirror and ask myself an honest question.

  “Why the fuck do you wear this ugly-ass outfit every goddamned day, Eden?”

  I don’t really know. Partly it’s because I’m trying to hide my breasts. It’s always the first thing people notice when they meet me, which makes me super self-aware and uncomfortable, and I figure button-downs are just one step up from baggy sweatshirts in the conceal-the-cupcakes department.

  It’s a good enough answer for me, so I move on and ask another question.

  “Why did you change your outfit when a man asked you to and not before?”

  This is much harder to deal with.

  Because even though I’m a strong, smart, capable woman trying to make her own way through life—Sexpert equals Example A—the answer to this question is because I… I need validation and I felt like Andrew gave me that.