The Sexpert

by JA Huss

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she continues as she arrives at the table. “I had to stay at work longer than I thought because I’m trying to pull all these articles for... Whatever. Doesn’t matter. But I had to stay and then I rushed home, but, and this is just classic, right? My key didn’t work. My key didn’t work. Can you believe that?”

  She sits down on Pierce’s side of the table, which I begin to tell her is Pierce’s side of the table, but she’s on a roll, so I just sit back and take it in.

  “Cheryl or whatever her name is gave me the wrong key! Can you even...? Or maybe it just didn’t work. Or, but whatever! So, yeah, so anyway, so I had to get management to come let me in, but they haven’t met me, right? Of course, they haven’t, so they wanted proof that it was really me who lived there, but I was like, ‘Uh, to give you proof, you need to let me in,’ right? But so, Catch-22, which... But so anyway, then I remembered that I still had the rental agreement in my purse, so I showed them that, and then finally they let me in, but then, like, y’know, I only saw the apartment for two seconds, so I don’t know where anything is! Are the faucets in your shower weird? The faucets in my shower are weird. It’s like, I couldn’t figure out how to change it over from the tub to the shower. Did you have that problem? Probably not. You probably have a separate tub and shower. How many do you have, anyway? I dunno, but it was so stupid. I mean IT’S not stupid. It just is what it is, but I felt stupid. Anyway, but so then, finally I figured out that you just have to pull a little knob, but then I couldn’t get the water temperature right, and... Oh! And, yeah, the pool gets crazy. I can totally hear it from my place. It’s like, it’s so hot today and everybody was just, y’know, at the pool, and so... That really has nothing to do with why I was running late, I just thought of it. And then I thought I should text you, but I don’t have your number. And then as I was running over here, I realized I could probably just call your office and have them get you a message, but then I thought it’d take longer to do that than just come here, so I did, and hi. Sorry I’m late. I’m just... Ugh.”

  Throughout her monologue, she sits, stands, adjusts her dress (which I don’t think she does because she notices me staring at her chest, but I can’t be sure), sits again, starts to take a sip from the empty highball glass that’s there, stops, realizing it’s not hers and it’s empty anyway, puts her bag over the left arm of the chair, takes it off, puts it over the right, pulls the chair forward, pushes it back, picks up a piece of baguette, puts it down, and then finally flops her head forward, letting her hair fall in front of her face.

  Man, oh, man. I am so fucked.

  “Hi,” I say, and smile.

  She laughs a little. “Hi. Hi. Sorry. I just, I feel... Do you ever feel overwhelmed?”

  “Everybody feels overwhelmed sometimes.”

  “Do you?”

  “Nah. Not particularly.”

  She stares for a beat and then she laughs. She’s got a fantastic laugh. The waiter approaches.

  “Monsieur. Mademoiselle. Shall I get another chair for the table?”

  “Oh...” I start.

  “Another chair?” asks Eden.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, for, uh...”

  “Or,” comes the voice from behind me, “You know what I could do? I could find her, fuck her, THEN sue her. I mean if the face is anything like the tits, then I should at least sample the wares. Apparently, she’s chock-a-block full of great sex tips. Jesus. Anyway. Hi. Who’s this?”

  He looks at Eden. He looks at me. Eden smiles at him with a painful grin. Then Eden looks at me too. I look at them both. I start to speak. Then I stop. Then. Finally.

  “You know what?” I say aloud to no one in particular. “I guess it’s possible for me to feel kind of overwhelmed sometimes.”

  Sexpert Advice

  CHAPTER NINE - EDEN

  Fast-forward forty-five minutes. Because I don’t have it in me to describe this first-date disaster in minute detail. My boss is having a very bad day because some tart has stolen his idea, so just insert one long tirade about how anonymous me is ruining his life and there you have it.

  It’s talk about trademarks, and he takes a call from his lawyer and has a three-minute conversation about how he’s going to sue the fucking pants off me once he figures out who I am, and then his steak comes while Andrew and I are ordering, so now that we’re back in present time, he’s throwing his napkin on the plate as he stands up.

  I smile with relief. Because I have maybe thirty more seconds of this before he leaves.

  “Eden,” he says.

  “Yes?” I say, almost choking on my wine.

  “It was a pleasure. Weird. But an absolute pleasure. I don’t know what’s going on here.” He pauses to do a back-and-forth finger wave at Andrew and me. “But it’s a good look for Andrew. And I get the feeling that me showing up early wasn’t in the plan, so I am acutely aware that I just ruined your date, and for that I apologize.” And then he reaches for my hand, kisses it, and lets go as I look nervously over at Andrew. “I just needed his ear. It’s the only ear I can count on. So thank you for indulging me.”

  And for a second I wonder if he’s going to reach for Andrew’s hand and kiss it as well. But he doesn’t. He just points his finger at his friend and says, “Welcome to Colorado. Don’t worry, I’ve got the check. So you two kids just enjoy yourselves.”

  We watch him leave, then our heads slowly turn and our eyes meet.

  “Holy shit,” I say. Because that was stressful.

  “Yeah,” Andrew says. “Um... So you run his social media?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Because, uh, I don’t know if you noticed but...it seems like he doesn’t know who you are.”

  “Yeah. I fly under the radar.” I smile and glance down at my plate.

  “How’s your food?”

  French food isn’t my thing but I got the coq au vin because it said chicken in parentheses. I just didn’t realize it was an entire jumbo leg. So while Pierce was lamenting his bad fortune at being the target of some massive conspiracy to ruin his life, I got nervous and started cutting up my meat into little pieces a toddler would be able to chew so I didn’t have to look at him.

  Which is stupid. And ridiculous. But mostly embarrassing.

  “It’s good,” I say, answering Andrew’s question as I scoop up some mashed potatoes with my fork and put it in my mouth.

  I pause like that. And not because I’m trying to seduce him as I eat, either. He’s just… he’s looking at me like… “God, you’re kind of adorable.” And then he glances at my plate of tiny, bite-sized pieces of chicken and laughs.

  I blush. I can feel it. My cheeks get hot. “Mmm-hmmm,” I say, swallowing my potatoes. I place my fork down and say, “Well…”

  “Oh, are we done?” Andrew asks. “Because we’re going to have to do this again, of course. Properly next time with no third wheel. Um. Can I walk you home?”

  “Uh. OK,” I say. Because we live in the same building. We work in the same building. I mean, it’s inevitable.

  He gets up and walks behind my chair so he can pull it out for me.

  “Thank you,” I say, surprised. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date with a man who did that. They might hold my chair and help me sit if they’re really feeling chivalrous, but not help me get up.

  It’s weird. But nice. And kinda sweet.

  “Shall we?” Andrew says, waving his hand at the front of the restaurant.

  We walk out of the restaurant and into the warm July night. The Towne Centre is bustling with people walking around. Going to dinner, or bars, or wherever.

  “This place is kinda cool. I don’t think I hate it,” Andrew says.

  “Yeah?” I say, thankful we have the TDH small talk to fill the silence. “I mean, yeah. I’ve been wanting to move here ever since I got the job at Le Man. It just feels so… alive and vibrant. I love all the shops and how everything is walkable. I don’t even have to get in my car to go to the dry
cleaner. Did you know the TDH has a walkable score of ninety-seven?” I ask.

  When I glance over at him he’s just grinning.

  “What?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. But yeah, it’s a regular walker’s paradise.”

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  Like he wants to eat me. But I don’t say that. “Like… I amuse you.”

  “Didn’t know I was.”

  “You are.”

  “Oh. Well... because you do. It’s not often you meet a person that you like right away.”

  I snort. Then feel awkward. I don’t have my glasses on tonight—I usually reserve them for work hours or night-time reading. So I can’t even busy myself pushing them up my nose right now.

  My phone buzzes in my purse and I say a silent Thank you, Jesus. Only I say Hey-Sus instead of Jesus because… well, it’s a joke left over from some Latin class I took in fourth grade and just something I say. And thank God it’s silent. Because I don’t feel like explaining. I fish around in my purse and find my phone to check the screen.

  Zoey: I need you. We have to add a voiceover to the video you recorded. Get here now.

  “Everything OK?”

  “Um…” I say, looking at Andrew.

  “Is it?” He seems genuinely concerned. I try not to think about it too hard.

  “Yup. Yup. Just fine. I just… one second.” I clumsily text Zoey back: I’m onnna dte cant just use itlike it is

  “Yeah? You sure?” Andrew asks as I slide my phone into my purse.

  “Everything’s fine—” But there’s another ding. “One sec,” I say, pulling my phone back out.

  Zoey: No! We have to respond to a statement about this accusation from your boss! It’s all over the internet! His lawyer says they will be presenting evidence or some shit that we stole their idea!

  Me: What??????

  Zoey: We have to address it. This started off as the best day and now it’s fucked. Call me when you get home. Maybe we can just record you on the phone.

  Me: K

  I scowl at my phone. I mean, having dinner with my new accidental archenemy was bad enough, but now I have inside information about his plan to take me down. Am I breaking a law? And I work for him. Hey-Sus! Can he send me to prison over this? Do I need a lawyer?

  “Are you sure you’re sure everything’s OK?” Andrew asks again.

  “Yup,” I say. And OMG. He’s the man Pierce has hired to take me down! I start walking faster. I need to get away from him like… now. And this dinner stuff? First date equals last date as far as Andrew and Eden go. Nope. I can’t do this.

  “Hey.” Andrew laughs. “Slow down.” He jogs to catch up to me and then grabs my elbow. “Is there an emergency?”

  “Nope,” I say. But then I cringe. And my lie is blown.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Nothing.” I sigh. “I just… that was work and…”

  “Work? Like the magazine needs you to go in tonight or something? For what? It’s a magazine.”

  “No.” I laugh. “No, no, no. My other job.” Shit! Why the hell did I say that?

  “Other job?” Andrew asks, eyebrows arched. “What’s that? Oh, God. You’re a prostitute, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  “OK, call girl then. Whatever.”

  “No! No! God, no! It’s not… it’s just…” Holy shit. I’m dying here. “It’s not a job. It’s just a hobby, really. That’s all. But it’s kinda having a good day. Sort of. I’m not sure. I gotta go.”

  I pull my hand away and start power-walking towards Sunset Towers, eager to get away from him and call Zoey. I need to know exactly what’s happening here.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Andrew says, catching up with me and placing a hand on my shoulder. Which sends tingles up my arm because the dress I’m wearing is sleeveless. “We’re going to the same place, remember?”

  “Oh, right. Sure. You can walk with me. I just need to hurry.”

  He takes my hand this time, and when I try to pull away, he holds it firm.

  “Eden.” He laughs, this time nervously. “What’s wrong?”

  “I told you, it’s just work. You can walk me home. You want to stroll? We can stroll. But just faster than most people stroll, if that’s not too much to ask.”

  I let him keep my hand, but I start walking again. He keeps up and starts talking about the concert this weekend. Trying to make small talk and be ... cool? I guess?

  I nod absently, making sure I look at him every few paces and smile. And then we’re at the building, getting in the elevator.

  I press the button for two as I look for my key card in my purse. And then the doors open again, and I turn to face him. “Thanks for the good time! See ya!”

  “Wait,” he says.

  He’s still smiling at me. Like he finds my flustered-ness… is that word? That can’t be a word. What’s the word? “Ruffled!” I say, then realize I said that out loud.

  “What?” This time his laugh is suspicious. I am acting strange and there’s no way in hell he’s not noticing.

  OK. Eden. You’re not very good at this covert shit. Never have been. And you warned Zoey about how stressful situations make you… ruffled… when she suggested the anonymous thing back when Sexpert started. But there are real consequences at stake here and you need to up your fucking game.

  In my head I shout that last part so the awkward person inside me will take this seriously. I need to play this right. I need to get this guy off my trail. Because I am his target.

  So be smooth, that inner voice says. Be cool. Play it…

  “Do you wanna kiss?” I blurt out.

  What?

  “What?” he asks.

  Oh, God. He’s going to call Pierce after this is all over and tell him how weird I am. He’s going to tell him something’s going on. And then…

  “Eden,” Andrew says, holding up a finger and furrowing his brow. “I just wanna make sure I heard you right. Did you just ask me if I wanted to kiss you?”

  “Did I?”

  “You did.”

  “Huh. Weird. Well, do you?”

  He smiles. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I wouldn’t mind that at all.” He leans in.

  OK. Decision time. Give him a peck goodbye and make an escape? Or try to explain?

  I choose the peck. It’s the only rational option. So I lean in, lips puckered, and plant one right on his cheek.

  The elevator doors close and we start ascending, because of course we friggin’ do. I’ve been standing here for almost five seconds having an internal monologue.

  “Know what?” he says. “Let me try.”

  And then his hands are on both my shoulders sending tingles up my arms, and his lips are on mine and…

  Hey-Sus. Save me. Because I kiss him back.

  I can’t not kiss him back. He smells good, and he’s handsome, and funny, and he appreciated my impromptu lesson on the Colorado Fourteeners this afternoon, and even though I know this is a very bad idea, it’s starting to feel like a very good one—which is my first clue that I should back away now and get off this elevator pronto, then take the stairs back down to my apartment and never speak to him again…

  But his tongue sweeps against my mouth and I don’t know what I’m thinking—well, I sorta do. Because this is no peck, that’s for sure. But I open my mouth and my tongue tangles with his. It’s… it’s…

  “Yeah,” he says, pulling back and whispering next to my cheek. “That seems better.” Then, because this evening has been perfectly timed since it started, the elevator doors open with a ding.

  He turns and we both stare at the massive double doors leading to his penthouse. Then our eyes meet and I know… I know if I don’t stop this now, it’s all over. My entire life will be over.

  So I back away as he turns towards me, and then I place both hands on his chest and push him as hard as I can until he stumbles backwards, out of the elevator, a surprised and hal
f-confused look on his face as the elevator doors close, taking all other options away from me.

  Hey-Sus comes through for me tonight.

  CHAPTER TEN - ANDREW

  “Game, bitch!” shouts Dev as he slams down the ping-pong paddle on the table in the break room.

  “Dude, I’m your boss,” I remind him.

  “Sorry, Andrew. I just... I get competitive.”

  Dev is my guy. My lead developer at the company. He’s young. Nineteen. A prodigy. Graduated from Stanford when he was sixteen years old. He joked when I hired him that I was only giving him a job in tech with such big responsibility because he’s Indian. I joked back that it’s because his middle initial and last name are “E. Loper.” (They’re not.)

  But he got the Dev E. Loper joke right away, told me I was “pretty funny for an old dude,” and that was it. I was hooked on this kid.

  It doesn’t hurt that he is, quite literally, the smartest person I have ever met.

  “You wanna rematch?” he asks.

  “Nah,” I tell him, wandering over to the fridge to grab a water. “I’m good.”

  “You OK, man?”

  “Why?”

  “Dunno. You seem less... Andrew-y than usual.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I mean I know we don’t know each other that well, but you just seem down. Tell Papa Dev what’s up.”

  Precocious doesn’t even begin to describe this child.

  “Oh.” I groan, flopping down over the Roman arm of one of the fluffy chairs with the cow hide motif our designer picked for the break room. Wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it is very Denver-ish. “Everything’s fine. I think I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep so well last night.”

  “Why? New place?”

  “Nah, it’s not the place. It’s... I dunno. It’s everything. But you know what? You don’t wanna hear my bullshit.”