The Sexpert

by JA Huss

  She winks at me and waves by fanning her fingers in my direction starting with her pinky. She looks like a mountain lion swiping at me with her claws. Except that I’ve encountered mountain lions before and they don’t scare me nearly as much.

  Then Myrtle winks just past me. At Pierce. And he gets this look on his face. I’ve seen it before. It’s like—

  “Everyone, let me take just a moment to say welcome, and thanks for coming out today!” There is some head nodding as Pierce speaks, a couple of people give polite yet awkward golf claps, and somebody sneezes, causing a collage of muttered “bless yous” and “gesundheits.”

  Pierce continues, “I’m sure that many of you, when you saw the subject line—Emergency Team-Building—wondered, ‘Emergency? What could be so emergent that it would require a team-building day?’”

  Oh, dear God, do I know where this is going?

  “Well, my fair Le Manians”—(Le Manians?)—“we are under attack.”

  Yep. I did know where this was going. Fuck.

  “How many of you have heard of this internet personality known as the Sexpert?”

  Pretty much every hand shoots up in unison. There’s one guy wearing a Cannibal Corpse t-shirt standing in the back who looks around like he doesn’t know what the hell the Sexpert is. Maybe he works in the mail room. I dunno.

  “Indeed,” Pierce goes on. “And let me ask this. How many of you were aware that this was our idea? Meaning MY idea? Meaning Le Man’s idea? An idea that has been stolen from us?”

  More muttering now. I may hear a gasp, but it’s probably just my imagination.

  “Dude, what are you—?” But that’s all I get out.

  “This man to my left”—to his left? Oh, Jesus, I’m to his left—“is my dear friend Andrew Hawthorne! Some of you may have seen Andrew around. Andrew is the founder and CEO of Aureality Enterprises.”

  Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t...

  “And Andrew is going to help us figure out who this person is who has pilfered OUR intellectual property and assist us in bringing them to justice!”

  The golf claps are even more scattered and cautious, and it feels like a bright light is suddenly shining on me, although I know it’s just the flush of blood pumping through me that makes it seem that way. I get a tight smile and raise my hand to the group.

  “Hi. I’m Andrew.” I then step back and kind of press against the rock wall, noticing it’s only a V2 behind me. I could scale it, top out, and probably escape through the skylight in the ceiling in under a minute.

  “But why we are here today,” Pierce continues, “is because I believe”—he takes a dramatic pause—“that we shouldn’t have to seek outside aid in uncovering this felon.” Felon? I wonder if Derek knows about what’s happening right now. “Because I believe that whoever is responsible for stealing this idea is an enemy within!”

  No gasps, no golf claps, just blank stares.

  “I believe that the only way someone could have known about our idea is if they already work ... HERE.” He really lands “here” in a super-operatic way. “Or, at the least, they are in some way affiliated with Le Man.”

  Heads turn. People glance at each other. Not in a guilty-seeming way, in a “what the fuck is happening right now?” way.

  “So we are here today to work on trust. We must learn to trust each other. To rely on each other. To help each other and not to tear each other down!”

  I have to admit, Pierce gives one hell of a speech. Maybe I can get him to give mine from now on.

  “So, as we spend today climbing these”—he pats one of the climbing holds—“uh... And, what are these? They’re not rocks.”

  I glance over out of the side of my eye. “They’re, uh... polyurethane.”

  “These polyurethane handholds! Let them be a symbol! A symbol for each other! Think of these not as polyurethane rocks, but as polyurethane hands! The polyurethane hand of the person next to you!”

  He’s really kind of blown this metaphor apart, but it hasn’t dimmed his commitment. Which is its own special kind of leadership skill.

  “And if one of you does, in fact, know who might be behind this scurrilous action, I hope you’ll take my real-life, skin-and-blood hand at the end of today, and hold it, secure in the knowledge that if you are honest with me, I will be kind in return!”

  Huh. I always kind of thought that Pierce felt like the whole “king/kingdom” thing was sort of a joke, but now, I’m—

  He waves his hand with a regal flourish. “And now... Build. Grow. Trust!” He gestures to the wall behind us, and slowly, his slightly confused employees wander over and begin climbing up and mostly falling down.

  He steps off the pads and back into the main area of the gym, turning around to see a bunch of magazine employees struggling to maneuver up the walls. Over to our right, something I can already tell is going to result in a human avalanche begins forming. Pierce nods his head, satisfied.

  “Dude,” I begin slowly, the way one does when approaching an unstable person. “Um, are you OK?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  I decide not to say anything and shake my head. “No reason.”

  We watch the struggling going on in front of us for another moment and then he says, “Talked to my dad a couple nights ago.”

  “Oh. You did?”

  “I did.”

  “How was that?”

  “He’s not thrilled about our sales.”

  “Isn’t he?”

  “He isn’t.”

  The human avalanche collapses as expected.

  “So...” I start. “What’re you—?”

  “Look at that.”

  I look at where Pierce is looking. Myrtle is pulling herself to the top of the wall she attacked. And I do mean attacked. She tore up it like she’s been doing this for years. And now she stands at the top, looking down at everyone struggling. She doesn’t have chalk all over her like I do when I finish topping out. She doesn’t even look like she’s broken a sweat.

  “She’s something, isn’t she?” Pierce says.

  “Uh, yeah. I guess so.” There’s something in his eyes as he stares at her and suddenly it dawns on me to ask, “Dude, are you two—?”

  “I think it’s her.”

  A beat. I blink.

  “Come again?”

  “I think it’s her.”

  “Her what? You think what’s her? You think she’s—?”

  “I think she stole my idea. I think it’s her. I think she’s the Sexpert.”

  I look at Myrtle staring down at all the struggling Le Manians. She reaches over the edge to help one of them up and lifts him with a strength that surprises me.

  “Really? You honestly think that?”

  “Makes all the sense in the world. Doesn’t it?”

  Watching her, it does make some sense. I can see why he’d think that. And it would be way more plausible than my half-cooked idea. (Even if my half-cooked idea is based on at least circumstantial evidence, as opposed to a feeling, but still...)

  “Why would she do something like that, do you think?” I ask.

  “Why does anyone do anything?”

  “I... That’s not an answer.”

  He doesn’t say anything more, just stares at her as she walks over to the hand ladder and begins to lower herself down.

  “Really?” I ask once more. “You really think it’s her?”

  “Who else?”

  “Sorry! Sorry I’m late!” comes the flustered, urgent, familiar voice from behind us. Both Pierce and I turn to look at the same time. The explanation for her lateness is suddenly squelched and she stops talking and stares at us. We stare back.

  “Oh,” she says.

  “Hey there,” I say.

  And then we stare some more. And finally, after a moment of no one saying anything, the thudding of bodies landing on padded mats behind us the only sound, Pierce leans in and whispers, “Uh, that’s that girl who works for me, right?”

>   CHAPTER NINETEEN - EDEN

  Oh. My. God.

  They’re talking about me.

  What are they saying? Did Andrew figure something out? Does he know? Did he tell Pierce?

  My heart is beating fast and my hands are starting to get grossly sticky.

  He knows. They both know. I’m gonna get sued, and fired and… My life is over. Over. It’s just…

  Get a fucking grip, Eden. If ever there was a time to play things cool, it’s now.

  I turn my back to them and push my glasses up my nose. It’s hard to play cool when my whole body is suddenly a pool of nervous sweat. I want to take off this stupid button-down shirt and just wear my tank top, but I have a strict no-sexy policy for all things work-related and my boobies in a tank are a definite no-no.

  Calm down. They don’t know. They can’t know. If they knew they’d confront me for sure. I might not know Pierce well, but he’s a loose cannon. You don’t need to work for him to know that.

  Be brave. Be bold. Be… I want another B word to inspire me in this moment because I like alliteration, but I can’t think of one.

  Bubbly. No, that’s stupid.

  Beautiful. No, I laugh to myself. That’s absolutely the wrong direction. Beautiful is what got me into this whole Sexpert mess in the first place. I mean, I’m not anything special in the looks department. I’m no Myrtle, for fuck’s sake. But I have… qualities.

  Two of them, to be exact.

  Which makes me snort to myself. And that calms me down a little.

  And then I find another B word.

  “What are you doing?”

  I spin around and say, “Brazen!” loudly. Too loudly.

  “What?” Myrtle laughs. “Why is your face all red?” But just as those words are coming out of her mouth I look past her and see Andrew and Pierce heading this way. Straight for me. And yup, something is definitely up with those two.

  “Oh, shit,” I mumble. “I gotta go.”

  I whirl around just as I hear Andrew say, “Eden! Wait!”

  Fuck that noise.

  I spy the front door and I’m just about to make a run for it, but there’s now a whole bunch of Le Man employees, having given up on the wall and making straight for the snack table, blocking my way,

  “Eden!” Andrew calls again. “Wait up!”

  I make a sharp right, frantic, my eyes darting back and forth trying to find an escape plan, but all I see are indoor rock walls with all those colored handholds. To make matters worse, every one of them is crowded with Le Man employees trying to get their team-building in.

  Every one of them… except one.

  I don’t know what my feet are thinking because they don’t wait around for a discussion with my brain. They just head towards the empty rock wall.

  When I reach it, I grab onto the little plastic handhold thingy and pull myself up. My foot scratches against the fake rock, seeking a place to plant itself. Finds one, and then I’m reaching for another handhold.

  “Eden!” Andrew calls again.

  Shit! Climb faster!

  So I do. I might not look it because I have this whole nerdy librarian thing going at work, but I’m sporty. Totally sporty. I was captain of the volleyball team in high school and college. And I did gymnastics for like seven years before my breasts threw off my center of balance when I was fifteen and I had to give up my dream of Olympic glory.

  So goddammit, I’m gonna climb this wall.

  I find another handhold, then my foot finds a hold, and I’m pulling myself up.

  “Eden! What are you doing?”

  “I’m climbing,” I call back in my most cheerful voice. “Gonna have to catch you later!”

  “But wait! You’re not wearing climbing shoes! You’re gonna—”

  I don’t know if he finishes his sentence. I don’t have time to worry about him anymore because my foot slips. I’m at a weird angle or something and I feel like I’m bending backwards. Every time I reach for a handhold, my fucking boobs are in the way. I’m squished up against the wall and there’s nowhere to go but…

  I look down. And that’s a huge mistake. Because somehow I got halfway up this stupid wall.

  “Shit!” Andrew calls. His eyes are wide with worry as he stares up at me. “Don’t move! I’m coming up to get you!”

  Oh, no, you’re not, buddy! Noooo. I’m not getting stuck on this wall with you. No, sir.

  My fingers find another handhold. I contort my body, releasing the pressure on my chest, and swing my leg out—toe tapping, looking for a place to anchor myself…

  But I miss it, and I slip.

  ”Oh, my God!” someone cries from down below. “Eden is gonna fall!”

  Shit. I’m gonna fall. One foot is still searching for an anchor and my hands are sweating so bad now, they’re barely hanging on.

  How far is that? Fifteen feet? Twenty at the most. I won’t die, right? There’s mats down there. People fall off climbing walls all the time and live.

  Right? Right?

  And then my fingers slip and a whole crowd of people gasp in unison.

  “I’m gonna die,” I whisper. “Fall and break my neck in like two seconds.”

  “No, you’re not,” Andrew says.

  Somehow, in the last five seconds, he’s climbed all the way up to where I’m barely hanging on. His thigh behind me, pressing against my ass, like he’s trying to pin me to the wall.

  “I got you,” he says. “Just relax.” His breath is warm against my neck and his words are soft. “You’re OK.”

  “Um… I don’t think I am.” I turn my head and look down and instantly regret it. Like all two hundred Le Man employees are down there, faces upturned, watching me make a fool of myself.

  “Don’t look down,” he says, his hand slipping between my stomach and the wall. My shirt lifts up a little and his fingers brush against my bare skin for a brief moment. Then his other arm is reaching around behind me.

  “I got you,” he says again. “Just relax. We’re gonna go down now.”

  “Nope!” I say. “Nope. I can’t go down.”

  “O-kaaay,” he says. “Then we’ll go up.”

  I tilt my head up to the sheer wall in front of me and my heart sinks down into my stomach. “I don’t think I can do that either,” I whisper.

  He chuckles a little behind me. His laugh cools the back of my sweaty neck and feels oddly comforting.

  I take a deep breath. “Can someone just… lower me down?”

  “No,” Andrew says. “I have you so you probably won’t break your neck if you fall.”

  “Probably won’t?”

  “But you don’t have a harness on, so no. We cannot lower you.”

  “Get a harness!”

  “It’s a gym. Not the Alps.”

  And at that moment, as if the universe is striving to emphasize the point, someone’s ten-year-old goes flying up the wall beside us.

  “Coming through,” he says in his snotty ten-year-old voice.

  “Who brought their kid?” I say, loudly. “Fire that person!”

  “Eden, hi, hey, over here,” Andrew whispers and I turn my attention back to him. “Here’s the deal. We climb up”—he points up—“or we climb down.” He points...the other way. “You choose.”

  I think about that. For a little too long, I guess, because he says, “Listen to me. Either way is fine. I can help you up this wall and I will not let you fall. But every step down is one step closer to the ground. And if you do fall—”

  “You just said I wasn’t gonna fall!”

  “You won’t. But if you do, we’re that much closer to the ground and you’ll just land on the mat.”

  “What if I miss the mat and hit the concrete?”

  “OK, well, physically impossible, but if somehow you manage to defy science, I bet someone would catch you.”

  “Catch me?” I’m suddenly mortified picturing myself falling on top of all my co-workers. Toppling them all over like a bowling ball. And his arm aro
und me is tight. It’s pressing up underneath my tits. Which should feel good but right now is just making me self-conscious.

  Jesus. Fucking big tits. They are the bane of my existence.

  “Eden—”

  “Up,” I say. Because I can’t deal with down right now. If I make it to the top I can rest. Hide, even. Everyone down on the floor will go back to their team-building bullshit and forget about me. “Up,” I say again. “I can do this. Let’s go up.”

  “OK,” he says. And is he maybe… a little bit impressed with me?

  Oh, my God, I’m delusional. He’s thinking, This Sexpert bitch is crazy. That’s what he’s thinking. Because I know he knows. And he did tell Pierce. And Pierce is probably down there right now hoping I’ll fall. So much for my sexy new career. I’m gonna be stuck making stupid hashtags for eternity.

  Oh, no. No I won’t. Because the second I get off this stupid climbing wall he’s gonna fire me.

  “Look at my foot. See where it is?”

  I glance down, see the toe of his shoe tapping at a foothold, and say, “Yeah, I see it.”

  “OK. You put your foot there.”

  “But what about you? Where will your foot go?”

  “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m gonna use this one so I can box you in with my body.”

  When he says that he rubs his chest against my back. Probably to let me know that he’s here. To comfort me and make me feel safe.

  But it actually kinda makes me hot for him.

  I roll my eyes at myself. Because really? I’m thinking about sex as I’m about to fall to my death? Although that actually makes a lot of sense. I hear people think of crazy things before they die and there are worse things to think about than sex with this guy, so—

  “OK, ready?” Andrew asks.