Man vs. Durian

by Jackie Lau

“I’m a bit sore from last night,” she says.

  I immediately prop up my head and look at her. “Was I too rough?”

  “No, I enjoyed every second of it. I guess my body is still getting used to having sex again. And two orgasms in ten minutes!” She laughs, delighted, as though she still can’t believe this. “I’d never used a vibrator during sex before, which means I hadn’t come while a guy was inside me. Until last night.”

  “You and Stephen didn’t try it?” That seems like an obvious thing to do, considering she needs it to orgasm.

  “I know! It’s ridiculous. But he didn’t...” She shakes her head.

  “You guys were together a long time, weren’t you?”

  “Four years.”

  I hesitate. “What happened, exactly?”

  She’s silent for a minute.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I say hurriedly. “It’s okay. I was just curious.” I do, desperately, want to know, but if she’s not ready, I can wait.

  “No, it’s fine. I don’t like talking about it, but I want you to know what happened with Stephen and my career.” She rolls onto her side, facing me. “Stephen Shum and I met in undergrad. We were in the same program, and he’d developed an app in high school and was still making money off it...and, well, I kind of idolized him. He didn’t notice me, though, not until fourth year. That’s when we started dating. I’d only dated one guy before him, but it hadn’t lasted long. Anyway, we graduated, managed to get decent jobs in our field, and moved in together. None of our parents were thrilled with that part, but Mom liked him. He was respectable. Good Chinese family.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I was happy. I had a job as a software developer at a small engineering software company, the place where I’d worked the previous summer. Stephen had a job at a larger firm, but he didn’t plan to stay long term. He had a couple other apps he was developing on the side. I didn’t work on the code, but I would give him advice on the UX/UI.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “User experience, user interface. He didn’t always have a great sense for that stuff, but I did.” She absently runs her finger along my arm. “My boss had had a bunch of summer students before, but he didn’t have great things to say about them. But me...he thought I was really smart. He respected my opinions. When I started working there full-time, I told him about all the ideas I had to make the software more user-friendly, and he let me implement most of the changes I wanted.”

  She’s jumping between her relationship and her job, and I don’t quite get how it all fits together, but I think she needs to tell the story her way.

  “I liked that job,” Valerie says. “Even when I wasn’t at work, I was always thinking about it. How to solve problems, how to make it better. I felt lucky that I’d been able to graduate from university and get a job in my field right away—not everyone has that chance. And I was good at it. I know you have nothing to go on but my word, but I was.”

  “I believe you,” I say. “You don’t seem like the type to exaggerate your abilities.”

  She snorts. “Yeah, I’m not a man. Anyway, the job was good, my relationship with Stephen... Well, it wasn’t always the greatest, and he thought I was a bit of a frigid bitch in the bedroom.”

  “What?”

  She smiles wanly. “Because I didn’t get as wet as some women, and because I didn’t have enough screaming orgasms.”

  “You have plenty with me.”

  “Because you’re not insecure enough to be threatened by a vibrator. I suggested we use toys, but Stephen didn’t like the idea. And he didn’t realize that I could only orgasm with a vibrator, because occasionally I would fake it, just so he would feel better.” She shakes her head. “I know it’s weird to tell you about this. I’m actually trying to pay you a compliment—sex with you is the best I’ve ever had.” She gives me a shy smile, then looks down.

  Feeling like this is the time for a little levity, I press on my stomach. “No swelling. I guess your compliments didn’t get to my head...or my abs.”

  She laughs. “So it wasn’t great between Stephen and me, but I wasn’t paying enough attention to how bad it actually was, and I thought that was just the way relationships were. I didn’t have much experience.”

  Ugh. I hate this guy. He sounds like a tool.

  “Now back to my job,” she says. “I used to help my boss do training sessions for engineers. I liked to see what was intuitive and what was difficult for new users. It wasn’t something that I was initially hired to do, but I enjoyed it on occasion. Anyway, my boss and I were in Calgary for a few days, running a training session, and...” She swallows. “We were having dinner, and we’d each had a glass of wine, but we weren’t drunk. And he made a pass at me.”

  “That fucker,” I mutter, clenching my fist. I’m not usually quick to anger, but Valerie’s story is making it hard for me to control my emotions.

  I do my best, though. This is about her, not me.

  “It’s common.” She’s trying to detach herself, but her voice is wavering. “I tried to laugh it off, but he kept going. He put his hand on my leg and told me no one would have to know, not my boyfriend or his wife, it would be our secret.”

  I run my hands through Valerie’s hair, trying to give her strength however I can.

  “I was horrified,” she says. “Shocked. I know it’s not uncommon for women to experience this sort of thing in the workplace, but I never had, and he’d always treated me well, never made any mention of this. Although once or twice, I’d thought he’d looked at me funny, then shrugged it off as my imagination—now I know it wasn’t. I thought of him as a father figure. When he put his hand on my leg, I was so disgusted. I told him never to do it again.”

  She pauses to take a breath, and I continue to hold her close, wishing I could make it all go away.

  “Afterward, I fled to my hotel room,” she continues, “but despite what I’d said, the next morning, he tried again. I said I was his employee and this was sexual harassment, but he acted like I owed him. Not knowing what else to do, I finished the training session with him. When I returned to Toronto, I told Chloe, no one else. I was scared that if I told Stephen, he would accuse me of sending signals to my boss, saying it wouldn’t have happened otherwise.”

  I’ve never hated anyone so much in my life.

  “So, I talked to Chloe and decided to quit. As much as I liked the job, I couldn’t stand to be there a day longer, and I started to wonder if maybe I wasn’t all that smart, and my boss had just been trying to get in my pants the whole time. And I think the whole #metoo thing empowered me to speak up, made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

  “Why didn’t you go to HR?”

  She laughs without humor. “It was a small company. There was my boss...and everyone else. There was no HR. Plus, I think HR is mainly about looking out for the interests of the company, not necessarily the employees. Anyway, the day I quit, it was one of Those Days. The day you might see in a book or movie, when a woman loses her boyfriend, her job, and her apartment all in one shot. After quitting my job, I got home early and found Stephen in bed with another woman.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to go through all this,” I say, an intense pain in my heart.

  “Oh, just you wait. It gets worse. Not when it comes to Stephen—I dumped his ass right away. But when it comes to work.” She pauses. “I moved back home and immediately started applying for jobs. I was determined not to let this get me down. I got a few interviews, and a couple of them seemed impressed with me. I expected to get an offer, and then...nothing.

  “Finally, I got a phone call from a woman who worked for one of these companies. She told me she wasn’t supposed to be making this call, but she wanted me to know why I didn’t get the job. The problem was my reference. I couldn’t use my old boss as a reference, of course, so I used another software developer at my old company, one who’d been a mentor of sorts to me. I’d told him why I quit, and I trusted him. But apparently he was telling my
prospective employers that I’d made a false accusation of sexual harassment against my boss and was not to be trusted, and of course nobody wants to hire someone who has a history of making false accusations of sexual harassment. The woman was so sorry, she’d fought for me, she believed me, but she was the most junior person on the hiring committee.” Tears shimmer in Valerie’s eyes. “My career was stolen from me.”

  She lets out a choked sob, and I pull her against my chest and hold her tight.

  “Men are bastards,” I say, my voice vibrating with anger.

  “Such bastards,” she agrees. “So when Chloe told me she was going to open an ice cream parlor, I jumped at the chance to work with her. I wanted to get far away from what I’d been doing before, and I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with sexual harassment from my new boss, which was a step up. And here I am.” She sighs and snuggles up closer to me.

  I open my mouth, then shut it again.

  I want to fix this for her. Surely there must be something she can do, rather than giving up the career she loved.

  But I don’t think that’s what she needs right at this moment, so I don’t say anything.

  The amount of rage I feel on her behalf is almost frightening. It’s not a feeling I have experience much with, but I can’t bear the thought of her going through this nightmare. My Valerie.

  I try to unclench my jaw as I hold her tight. I kiss her hair, her wet cheeks, her neck.

  “Distract me,” she murmurs, taking my hand and putting it between her legs.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. Make me forget.”

  I kiss my way down her body and use my fingers to part her folds. She’s not very wet, so I squeeze some lube on my finger before I slip it inside her. She gasps.

  “Tell me if I do something you don’t like, or if you want something I’m not doing, okay?”

  She nods.

  I lie next to her and kiss her leisurely as I stroke my finger in and out of her body. She’s in my arms, and she’s mine. Despite all the crap that has happened to her before, she’s begun to trust me, and that’s something she doesn’t do easily.

  And now, I know why.

  I run my fingers up and down her slit before pushing two fingers inside her. Her moisture might not be dripping down her thighs, but after a few minutes of playing with her, she’s pretty wet, and I love it.

  “You said you don’t get very wet, but you do,” I say. “Not the first time or two, but you do now.”

  I think it took her a while to feel completely comfortable being intimate with me, and her ex was a total bastard, so she probably never felt like this with him.

  “Mm, maybe you’re right,” she says, her voice heavy with desire.

  I slide down her body and run my tongue over her. She tastes so fucking good. My cock is hard, but I try not to focus on that. This is about Valerie.

  I slip my fingers in and out of her as I run my tongue over her clit. She clenches the blankets in her fists and her breaths become quicker. She’s getting there, but I know she won’t get all the way there without the vibrator. I grab it from the bedside table and turn it on, and only seconds after I press it to her clit, she screams out for me. “Peter.”

  I turn off the vibrator and crawl up the bed. “You want another one?”

  She shakes her head, and then she grasps my cock. I hiss out a breath. “I’m sorry, I’m sore inside, I can’t—”

  “Don’t apologize,” I say. She’s got her hand wrapped around my cock. There’s no need for an apology.

  She strokes my erection between us as we kiss. Pumping up and down, increasing her speed a little.

  Fuck. “Val, I’m going to...”

  I come all over her hand, but she’s not bothered by the mess.

  “Maybe we could get a smaller vibrator,” I say a few minutes later. “A U-shaped one that could be worn during sex. What do you think?”

  “Maybe, but...” Her face turns a pretty shade of pink. “I don’t want to go to a sex store again. It was bad enough the first time. The saleslady asked if I needed help, and I was mortified.”

  “You can order online.”

  “And have it shipped to my parents’ house? My mother would open it. She has no sense of boundaries.”

  “No, we’ll ship it to my place.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “We’ll look at some things online, you tell me what you’d like, and I’ll get it for us, okay? I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you,” she says, as though it’s more than just a little thing.

  I press another kiss to her face. “Now how about we shower together and get cleaned up?”

  * * *

  After our very enjoyable shower, we go downstairs for breakfast, and I decide this is the day for the little treat I’ve stashed in my parents’ freezer.

  When I take out the package, Valerie’s smile lights up her face.

  This might stink up the kitchen, but I don’t care. It’s worth it.

  I was at an Asian supermarket the other day, and I found myself looking at something I’d never looked at before: frozen durian. They sell the whole ones frozen, but I don’t think Valerie needs a whole durian for herself, plus then I’d have to figure out how to hack it open. With a meat cleaver? An ax? I don’t know.

  But they also sold frozen durian in packages, so I got a small one.

  “Maybe you could make a smoothie with it,” I suggest.

  I looked up recipes. Some had condensed milk, so I bought that for her, too, as well as some bananas, since I thought that might taste good.

  Taste good to her, that is.

  “No, I like to eat half-frozen durian just as it is. With a spoon. It’s like frozen custard.” She’s practically salivating. “It’s not too warm outside, but it’s sunny—I’ll put the package on the picnic table in the backyard for an hour, then eat it. You can have some, too.” She winks at me.

  “Not a chance.”

  We have a leisurely breakfast of cereal and coffee and oranges, and occasionally Valerie’s voice wavers, like she’s still recovering from what she told me, and I do my best to make her laugh and shower her with affection.

  “I have lots of new Instagram followers,” I tell her. “After I posted that picture of me and Biscuit on her account, everyone wondered who the ‘handsome guy’ was, and I linked to my own account.”

  “I hope I don’t have any competition,” Valerie says.

  “Don’t worry. I just want you.”

  “You know what you should do? Take sexy pictures of yourself with a durian and post them on Instagram. I’m sure they’d be popular.”

  “Hmm. For you, I’ll consider it.”

  Eventually, her durian has defrosted enough to eat, and we put on our jackets and head outside with Biscuit. Valerie digs into her half-frozen durian with a spoon and sighs in bliss.

  Biscuit barks. She’s sitting on the ground, staring at Valerie’s food.

  “No, girl,” I say, patting her head, “you don’t want any of that. It’s nasty stuff.”

  She barks again, not happy that I’m denying her something. You’re such an asshole. I am the supreme ruler of this household!

  It’s always fun to imagine what Biscuit is thinking.

  Valerie holds a small piece of durian in front of the dog’s nose, and to my surprise, Biscuit is doesn’t turn her head away in disgust at the smell of natural gas mixed with hockey equipment.

  Indeed, after Valerie feeds her the small piece of half-frozen durian, Biscuit barks happily, her tongue poking out of her mouth.

  “See?” Valerie says. “She has good taste. Unlike you.”

  “Very funny,” I say as Biscuit wags her tail and jumps in my lap.

  “I’m not going to feed her any more, though. I’m not sure how good durian is for dogs, plus I want to eat it all myself.” Valerie shifts the package close to her, as if I would steal it.

  Ha.

  But you know what? Watching my not-so-fake girlfriend eat durian in the autumn sunsh
ine while my parents’ Instagram-star Bichon Frise lounges in my lap...it’s kind of a perfect moment. A couple months ago, I could never have imagined getting pleasure out of a situation that involved durian, but now, things are different.

  I love her.

  But I can’t tell her, not yet. I wish I could, but I know she’s not ready to hear it.

  “I really like you,” I say instead, placing my hand on top of Valerie’s.

  The words seem insufficient, but they’ll have to do for now.

  * * *

  Once Valerie leaves for work and I’m no longer trying to distract her, my fury on her behalf returns.

  I decide to go for a run.

  At first, I try going with Biscuit, but after a block, I discover she can’t keep up and really isn’t that great of a running companion, so I take her back to the house and set out on my own, just me and my thoughts about Valerie’s ex and her boss and the colleague she used as a reference. All the men in her life who were complete shits to her.

  She loved that career, and she was good at it. Not that I know anything about software development, but I believe her. I’m sure she’s brilliant.

  And I have to give it back to her.

  She wanted a little distance from it at first, and after all that happened, I understand. But she needs that challenge now; she needs to create something. She hates having a job that involves dealing with people all day.

  I know the lack of references is an issue, but surely there’s something she can do. Couldn’t she be self-employed? Or...I know!

  Her friend’s boyfriend, whom I met last night. Josh. He could hire her, or at least give her some advice on what she could do.

  Today isn’t the right time to bring it up, but I’ll do it soon. I hate to see her living a life that isn’t right for her, and hopefully, with my support, she can figure out how to make this work.

  I will be with her every step of the way.

  I will help her change her life.

  And I can’t help feeling that this is what I’m meant to do with my life.

  Aaron and Leo were wrong. Sure, maybe I’ve said “I’ve never felt like this before” with other women, but in my vast experience with romance, it’s never been quite like this for me. I’m older now, and I’ve had more relationships; I know what I’m talking about, unlike five or ten years ago.