Man vs. Durian

by Jackie Lau

  I breathe in sharply at the thought.

  It’s been such a long time since I wanted to touch myself.

  I crawl under the covers and pull out my vibrator from its special hiding spot. I place it on my pillow, not ready for it quite yet. First, I slip my hand inside my underwear and run my finger over my slit. I’m wet—only a little wet. Stephen always complained that I...

  Stop thinking of Stephen!

  I rub my clit with my thumb and arch against my hand.

  Imagine Peter’s hand on you, his fingers on your clit, sliding inside your body...

  I don’t know what he’d say as he touched me, but I’m sure it would be perfect, because somehow he always knows the right thing to say, and I would melt against him. Surrender to whatever he would give me, knowing it would never be more than I could take. He thinks I should be cherished, but not because I’m made of glass.

  I imagine running my hands up his bare arms, over his pecs. Licking a trail down, down his chest, until I reach his boxers and take his cock in my mouth.

  This isn’t something I’ve fantasized about before, though I’ve given a blowjob, of course. But now, the thought of bringing him to orgasm with my mouth is almost unbearably sexy.

  I grasp the vibrator and turn it on. It’s a quiet one—I got it specifically for that reason. When I press it to my clit, I gasp.

  Shit.

  Quickly, I cover my mouth with my hand, and then I get to work.

  Oh, God, it feels so good, but I want more. I want him inside me, I want...

  There’s a knock on my door.

  Oh, my fucking God.

  Instinctively, I chuck the lime-green vibrator across the room.

  Yeah, that was a smart move.

  “Valerie?” Mom asks. “What was that noise?”

  “Coming!” I say, then snicker.

  Jesus, I really need to get it together.

  After picking up the vibrator and tossing it in a drawer, I walk to the door and open it a crack.

  “It’s almost three in the morning,” I hiss. “What do you want?”

  “Why are you in such a grumpy mood? And what was that thump?” My mother sounds perky despite the late hour.

  “Oh, I just dropped my e-reader,” I say. “I was reading. A little light reading after my late night out, you know.”

  “You were with Peter?”

  “Yes. With Peter. Yes.”

  Why am I so bad at this? My heart is thumping wildly in my chest—and not in a good way, like it was earlier.

  “Hmm,” Mom says, looking at me in a way that makes me shiver. Like she can see right into my brain and knows exactly what I was doing.

  Not, of course, that there’s anything wrong with a little late-night masturbation after seeing one’s fake boyfriend, but this is my freaking mother, and she interrupted me, and I can’t help feeling awkward as hell.

  “What did you do tonight?” Mom asks.

  “Ate dinner, went dancing.”

  “You went dancing?”

  “Shh. You’re going to wake everyone up.”

  “But you hate dancing.” She peers at me. “Have you been drinking? Are you on drugs?”

  “No, I just felt like dancing. Now, I’m working tomorrow and I’d really like to get some sleep.”

  Mom regards me suspiciously before leaving my room.

  I breathe out a sigh of relief and return to bed, but I don’t take out my vibrator. Nope, the mood is ruined.

  But after I turn out the lights and cuddle up under the covers, I imagine Peter’s arms around me.

  * * *

  “You went dancing?” Chloe says. “But you hate dancing!”

  “You sound like my mother,” I mutter.

  It’s Sunday night, which is when Chloe, Sarah, and I usually hang out. Both Happy As Pie and Ginger Scoops have shorter hours on Sundays and are closed on Mondays, so none of us have to work tomorrow.

  Today, we’re at a unicorn bar.

  No, I’m not kidding.

  We’re at a goddamn unicorn bar, which is simply called...

  Unicorn Bar.

  This was not my choice of venue, I assure you. It was Chloe’s.

  The bar has simple white tables and chairs—I have no objection there. But the servers are all wearing unicorn headbands, there are paintings of unicorns on the walls, and the bar itself looks like it was attacked by rainbows.

  Then there are the drinks. Oh, the drinks. They have names like Glitter Bomb, Let’s Prance, Magic Dust, and Rainbow Delight.

  I tried to order a rum and coke, but Chloe wouldn’t let me, so instead I’m drinking a Glitter Bomb. It’s a blue cocktail (thanks to blue curacao) with a disturbing amount of edible glitter, and I’m afraid it’s going to make me poop rainbows or something.

  I have another sip. It’s actually quite good, not that I’ll admit that to anyone.

  “I still can’t believe you went dancing.” Chloe has a sip of her Rainbow Delight, a layered cocktail with a unicorn pop.

  “Well, I did,” I say, thinking back to the way Peter spun me around and made me not care about anything except being close to him.

  “Oh my God. You have a dopey look on your face!”

  “Do not!” I school my features into a perfect frown.

  “You do,” Sarah says. “Is this relationship not-so-fake after all?”

  “It’s a fake relationship,” I insist. “But, okay, fine, I like him. Happy now?”

  “No!” Chloe cries. “You need to tell me more. Are you hoping it will turn into a real relationship?”

  “That’s what he’s hoping.”

  She bounces in her seat. “Ooh, how exciting!”

  “You need to be cut off,” I mutter.

  “I’m only on my second drink.”

  “It’s not the booze I’m talking about. It’s all the goddamn sugar.”

  “You are such a delight.” Chloe throws a unicorn napkin at me.

  “I know, that’s me. Such a delight. Why couldn’t we go to a demon-themed bar instead? Maybe a Goth bar where everything was black instead of rainbow-colored?”

  “So he hopes it’ll turn into a real relationship,” Sarah says, “but what do you hope?”

  “I hope everyone will stop bugging me about my hare-brained idea to have a fake boyfriend.”

  “But you like him. I know it can be scary—it was scary for me, too, when Josh and I started spending time together, but it’s been pretty amazing.”

  “And Peter got you to go dancing,” Chloe says. “This isn’t the kind of guy that comes around every day.”

  “Well, it’s not every day you spill durian ice cream on someone.”

  Chloe places her hand over mine, which is clenched on the table next to the Glitter Bomb. “I think this one might be worth it. You’ve been happier these past few days.”

  “I have?” I ask in horror.

  She laughs. “Yeah, you’ve been genuinely smiling, not just customer-service smiling.”

  “Hmph.” I swirl my straw through the glittery blue of my drink. “I guess you’re right. Peter is just so...nice. I like being with him.”

  “Nice” sounds lame, but it’s true. It’s refreshing to be with someone like that.

  Chloe pats my hand. “I’m happy for you. You deserve it, after everything that’s happened.”

  I swallow, uncomfortable, and then something catches my eye. “Do you see what that table ordered? It looks like the ultimate unicorn sundae.”

  The sundae is large enough for four people. Hell, it would probably feed six or eight. There are several scoops of ice cream in a myriad of colors, topped with an extremely generous amount of whipped cream, fruit, and rainbow sprinkles. There are also six unicorn pops and a unicorn cookie.

  I look at my menu. I think that’s the Unicorn Deluxe.

  This is enough to temporarily distract Chloe from my love life, thank God.

  I’m still a bit unsure about the whole Peter thing, though I don’t know how to articulat
e everything I feel. Nor do I feel like sharing the embarrassing my-mother-interrupted-my-masturbation-session story.

  But I’m out with my friends and I had a great date on Friday, and life is better than it’s been in a while.

  * * *

  It’s after midnight when I get home. Sabrina is up, but Mom and Dad are asleep.

  I quietly ascend the stairs and get ready for bed, but this time, I do not look at myself in the mirror. I do not take out my vibrator.

  I really need to get my own apartment, but it’s just so damn expensive. A one-bedroom apartment downtown would cost a lot, and I don’t particularly like the idea of having a roommate. I want a place that’s all mine. My sanctuary from the world, without any mothers who stay out late playing mahjong and interrupt me at inopportune times.

  And without any sisters knocking on my door when I’m about to go to bed.

  “I heard a rumor that you went dancing the other night,” Sabrina says.

  God, why is everyone obsessing about that?

  “I did,” I say. “Now leave me alone and stop that incessant giggling.”

  She gives me the finger—in a loving, sisterly way, of course—and I pick up the greeting card on my night table.

  I run my finger over Peter’s words and smile.

  Chapter 11

  Peter

  I tap my fingers on the patio table and sip my coffee. I’m at Ginger Scoops, waiting for Valerie to come out and join me for her break. Unfortunately, since it’s beautiful weather for the first of October, there are lots of people in line. It’ll probably be a little while, but I don’t mind waiting if I get to see Valerie.

  “Hey. Peter?”

  An unfamiliar man takes a seat across from me.

  “Yes?” I say warily.

  The man is a bit older than me, maybe mid-thirties. East Asian. Wearing a button-down shirt and khakis. Serious-looking. Glasses.

  He’s completely unfamiliar, and yet he knows my name?

  “You’re the guy Valerie’s seeing,” he says.

  “Yes?” How does he know that?

  “I’m Alan, her brother. I’ve seen your picture before, that’s how I recognized you.”

  Ah. Okay.

  I stick out my hand, but he doesn’t shake it. Instead, he looks at me with narrowed eyes.

  “Don’t fuck around on her,” he says. “Or I will come for you.”

  I try to contain my laughter, but I don’t quite manage it.

  Here’s the thing. Alan is not even vaguely threatening. His voice is quiet, but not in a lethal-calm way. He sounds uncertain.

  And physically? I could take this guy easily. Not that I’ve gotten in a fight since grade two, but I’m in pretty good shape and I don’t sit behind a desk all day.

  Alan, on the other hand, does look like he has a desk job.

  “Dammit,” he mutters. “Clearly I have some work to do on the protective-older-brother routine.”

  “Yeah, you do,” I say good-naturedly.

  “I never used to interfere in my sisters’ lives, but after what happened to Valerie, with her ex and her career...” He shakes his head. “I don’t want her to go through that again, okay? Just treat her well, that’s all.”

  “Of course. I would never think of doing otherwise.”

  He gives me a wary smile. “I hear you’re a doctor.”

  I’m about to protest, then remember my act. “Yep. A pediatrician. That’s me.” The less said about my supposed career, the better. I don’t know jack shit about being a doctor. Perhaps I should do a little research.

  “How interesting.” Alan taps his fingers on the table. “It’s as though Valerie found you in a catalogue.”

  My gut clenches. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Oh, just that you’re exactly what our mother would want for her, that’s all.”

  I shrug and try to play it cool. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a professor.”

  “Ah.”

  Valerie steps out of Ginger Scoops and walks over to us. I can’t help but smile when I see her, and I remember how it felt to kiss her against the wall and slip my hand inside her bra...

  Not now, Peter.

  She smiles back at me, then turns to her brother. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  Alan shrugs. “Just a fifteen-minute walk from work. Figured I could use some ice cream on this beautiful day.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Actually, he threatened me,” I say cheerfully.

  “You what?” Valerie glares at her brother.

  “He told me I better not fuck around on you. Or else. Normal stuff like that.”

  “If Peter tries anything,” Valerie says to Alan, “don’t worry, I’ll deal with him myself. I’ll string him up by his balls and lock him in a room with a rotten durian.”

  Alan barks out a laugh.

  I chuckle, too. I’m not worried, because I’m going to treat Valerie like a queen, and nobody will be stringing anyone up by the balls.

  When she sits down, I shift my chair toward hers and wrap my arm around the back of her chair. Part of our act, you know.

  “So, you’ll never guess what Instruct-Ed did this time,” Alan says to Valerie.

  She leans forward. “What happened?”

  “What on earth is Instruct-Ed?” I ask.

  “It’s the course management software I’m forced to use.” Alan sighs. “It’s horrible. And I’ve discovered that students are able to change the marks on their labs.”

  “They can change their own marks?” Valerie says.

  Alan smiles at her vehemence. “Yeah. They can.”

  “Isn’t that exactly what course software is not supposed to do?” I ask.

  “That’s correct. Now, to be fair, it appears they can only change their marks to zero—they can’t give themselves a hundred percent—and when that happens, they complain to me, of course. Three students have done it so far.”

  “I want to get my hands on that code so badly.” Valerie turns to me. “Can you believe this is the most popular course management software in Canada? It has so many bugs, and the software developers seem to have no understanding of what instructors use it for.”

  I get the feeling Alan and Valerie have had some variation of this conversation many times before. And I understand why.

  I can make Valerie smile. I can turn her on. I can help her relax.

  But she has a spark in her eye I haven’t seen before, and I suddenly understand she needs her career back.

  She told me she couldn’t. She didn’t explain any further, but now I know she desperately wants it. She’s excited by the idea of making this software better, and it’s just course management software that she’s never even used before.

  I always knew Valerie was brilliant. I swear I could see it from the very beginning, when she bumped into me with her durian ice cream and released a string of curse words. I was drawn to her; I knew she was intelligent and magnificent.

  I just wasn’t sure what she was meant to use that brilliance for.

  Until now.

  Something awful must have happened to push her away from her career, and somehow, I’m going to help her fix it.

  But I’m not going to push her to tell me before she wants to.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, I return to Ginger Scoops for some ice cream. Vietnamese coffee and green tea-strawberry, perhaps?

  No. Green tea and coffee would clash.

  In my opinion, it’s best to pick flavors that complement each other at least a little. I came to this conclusion after having mango and amaretto gelato together, a combination I do not recommend.

  I step up to the counter and Valerie smiles at me. “What can I get you on this fine October afternoon?” she asks, acting all proper, as though she doesn’t know what it’s like to have my erection pressing between her legs.

  “What would you recommend with Vietnamese coffee?”

  “Maybe chocolate-raspberry?”


  “Sounds good. I’ll have it in a bubble waffle.”

  She pours the batter into the waffle maker then returns to the cash register. Her hand is resting on the counter, and I idly trace circles over the back of it.

  I want to make all your dreams come true.

  She’s wearing an apron over a simple blue T-shirt, and she’s truly stunning. I can’t believe I get to touch her.

  I want to take you to bed and make you feel so good. When you’re ready, of course.

  We exchange a private grin.

  I love falling in love.

  The chimes above the door tinkle, and I step away from Valerie, cursing the new customers for interrupting our moment.

  It’s a young man and woman, about our age. The man gives Valerie a curious look, and I’m immediately on guard.

  “Valerie Chow?” he says. “Is that you?”

  She stiffens, just for a second, and I don’t think he notices.

  “Brendan,” she says pleasantly. “Hi.”

  “You work here?” Perhaps it’s my imagination, but there’s a slight sneer in his voice.

  “I do. What can I get for you today?”

  He turns to the woman next to him. “Valerie and I went to U of T together.”

  “We sure did,” Valerie says, with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

  “She was one of the smartest kids in the class,” he says. “I’m surprised you’re not working in the field anymore.”

  “I’m working at an ice cream shop because that’s what I want to do.” Her expression is hard. Resolute. “It was my best friend’s dream to open this place. What about you?”

  I can hear the reluctance dripping from her voice. She’s trying to be polite, but this Brendan guy, he’s content to ignore her tone. He babbles on about some software company he’s working for, like he’s a hotshot or something. Even the woman standing next to him—his girlfriend?—looks annoyed.

  I’m about to interrupt this idiocy, but then the woman says, “For God’s sake, Brendan, nobody wants to hear about your job.” She steps toward the counter. “I will have a single scoop of strawberry-lychee sorbet, please.”

  The two of them get their ice cream and are outside by the time my bubble waffle is ready. Valerie folds it into a cone. “Which flavors did you want again?” Her voice wavers.