The Boyfriend Experience

by JA Huss

  Because the perfect boyfriend puts himself second.

  But that’s not how it’s happening today.

  Today he is first and I am second.

  Because that’s what the perfect girlfriend does too.

  I press my face up to his skin again, this time taking him deeper than I’ve ever taken him before. I swallow down the reflex to gag, and in doing so, send him over the edge.

  He jumps off, willingly. His body stiff, his cock throbbing as he spills his release into my mouth and down my throat.

  I watch his face as I swallow. His eyes open just in time to see this final gesture of my commitment.

  And then he smiles and says, “You’re going to come twice for that,” like it’s a threat, and not a promise he wants to keep.

  I stand up, his hands already unbuttoning my jeans. Dragging the zipper down. His fingers between my legs and then inside me before I can take another breath.

  My body goes limp, but he’s there to catch me. He will always be there to catch me.

  And before I know it, my back is pressing against the cold stone countertop. My pants are gone, dropped to the floor. My legs open, his hands on my knees, spreading me wide.

  And then his face… his face is there. His chin pressing against my pussy as his tongue does a wild little dance across my clit.

  I’m primed. Climbing the peak to the first climax is easy. It’s right there… right… there.

  And the moment his fingers slip inside me. The moment his mouth closes over my clit and he begins to suck…

  I come.

  After that we take our time. He strips naked—I’m already naked—and he fucks me all over his apartment. On the counter first. Grabbing me by the knees and pulling my ass along the stone until his cock slides easily into my slick opening. He pounds me. He fucks me slow. He makes me come, and come again.

  Then on the couch. Me in his lap. Kissing, tasting each other as I move, his hands on my hips, guiding me back and forth until neither of us can take it anymore.

  Then against the wall. His hands under my ass, gripping me so tight, I’ll have bruises later. His thrusts so hard his balls slap up against my ass, which only drives me wilder.

  Later, we take a shower. His hands all over me, soaping me up. Massaging my tired and quivering muscles. My hands doing the same for him.

  Because we’re equals.

  And this is how you equal.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN - LAWTON

  We are lazy and mostly naked for the rest of the day. Trying to forget the bad and remember the good. I love her in my arms. I’m riddled with guilt for making her cry this morning, even though she says it was Hanna who upset her, not me.

  It was me. It’s been a long time since I let anger and frustration get the best of me, but that’s what took over this morning and I regret it, because it hurt her. She felt alone when she broke down. Abandoned. And that’s something I know a little bit about. No one wants to be tossed aside.

  But I’m here for her now. And she’s smiling at least.

  “You hungry?” I ask her. She’s wearing a pair of my boxers and one of my t-shirts. I found an old one tucked away in my closet from another era in my life. An Oaklee-appropriate Nirvana Bleach one with all that “We’re bad motherfuckers” wording on the back. Which totally suits her, because she’s filled to the brim with bad motherfucker.

  “I could eat,” she says. “Should we order in?”

  “Nah,” I say. Because I have another reason I want to get out of here. “Let’s go somewhere. Come on, get up.” I slap her thigh and make her squeal.

  And just as she’s about to slap me back, my phone rings on the coffee table.

  We both look at the screen. Unknown number.

  “Let’s ignore it,” Oaklee says.

  “Fuck that. Fuck her.” I pick up the phone, tab accept and put it on speaker. “Lawton Ayers.”

  “Lawton,” Hanna purrs. “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What’s wrong? Things not going your way today?”

  “Actually,” I say, “things are going pretty fucking great for me.” I wink at Oaklee.

  Hanna makes a noise with her lips. Like she’s annoyed. “The Home TV people called and made me an offer since Oaklee wasn’t interested.”

  “Good for you,” I say, watching Oaklee’s expression.

  “They want both of us.”

  “Sorry, I’m not interested. I give up on TV shows.”

  “Not you,” Hanna hisses. “Oaklee and me. They like the idea of dueling breweries.”

  “Fuck off, bitch,” Oaklee says. “There’s no bribe big enough in this world that could make me go in business with you. You’re just a fucking liar, you know that? A crazy fucking liar.”

  “Oh, how cute,” she croons. “The two of you are spending quality time together before Oaklee goes to jail.”

  I look at Oaklee and shake my head at her. Mouth the words, Keep cool.

  “What do you want, Hanna?”

  “I want Oaklee to say yes or I’m going to the police with that video of her and Vivi Vaughn breaking into my building last night. Do you hear me, Oaklee? Mike and Michaela are coming back for the festival on Sunday to see us duel it out in person before they make this offer. And you‘d better be entering a beer so I can win, bitch.”

  She’s fucking crazy. Totally lost her mind.

  “Do you hear me?” she yells. “Do. You. Hear. Me?”

  Oaklee grabs the phone and puts it up her mouth. “How the fuck am I supposed to enter a beer when you stole it from me? Maybe I should call the cops on you, ya psycho! How about I go through my footage of you breaking into my apartment and send that to the police? How about we pitch that for the pilot of dueling breweries?”

  I know it’s probably a bad idea to poke the sleeping bear, but she’s not really sleeping, is she? So I’m smiling right at Oaklee when I say, “Back the fuck off, Hanna. You got what you wanted—”

  “Oh,” Hanna says, interrupting me with an incredulous bark. “Got what I wanted! No. No, no, no. I have so much more I need from Oaklee.”

  “You’re not getting anything from me, bitch! And what the fuck is wrong with you? Telling Law that made-up story about my father and that you’re my sister? You are on some seriously good drugs if you think either of us is buying your insane fantasy!”

  Hanna tuts. But her bravado is returning just as Oaklee is losing hers. “You didn’t know him like I did, Oaklee. It’s sad and painful when a parent dies and you realize he had a secret life, but—”

  “Fuck you!” Oaklee screams. “Fuck you! Fuck you! You’re a goddamned liar!”

  “Listen,” Hanna hisses. “You will do this TV show with me and you will enter one of your pathetic beers in this weekend’s contest so I can win—”

  “You’re going to win with my beer! How fucking insane are you?”

  I take the phone away from Oaks and say, “Fine, Hanna, you win.” And then I end the call.

  “Why did you do that?” Oaklee yells. “She’s such a fucking raging bitch.”

  “Because you really did break into her apartment. And you and I both know that whatever security you have in your building, Hanna won’t be on it. So we have to play this right.”

  “I fucking hate her,” Oaklee protests. “I feel like killing her.”

  A text comes through just as Oaklee says that. “Hanna,” I say, looking at the screen.

  “God, why can’t she just leave us alone?”

  “She says there’s an appointment at your brewery tomorrow at noon.” Which makes me laugh. “Oh, and that’s super cute. They have an opening now because my appointment was cancelled.”

  Oaklee looks horrified. And then she slumps back into the couch cushions, resigned that she probably has to see this through and play along.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “They have to catch a plane at three, so…”

  She doesn’t smile.

  So I le
an over, put my arms around her, and hold her.

  I sure hope Jordan comes through for us.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - OAKLEE

  My mind can’t stop. It races with plans, and plots, and insane ideas on how I might take down my archnemesis.

  I consider all the ways I could kill her. Hire a hitman. I’m sure Vivi could find me someone willing to kill for money. Or kill her myself. Strangulation is my first choice. Or set her brewery on fire. Then the Home TV people would all go away and I wouldn’t be forced to take that meeting.

  But even though I’m crazy, I’m not insane.

  She wants me to do something like that. She’s waiting for me to fuck up.

  So I plot blackmail. I make plans to break into her place again, steal that footage of Vivi and me breaking into her place, and get rid of all traces we were ever there. Because she’s going to hold that over my head for the rest of my life if I don’t do something drastic.

  But drastic is stupid. It’s impulsive and dangerous because there’s a good chance I’ll fuck things up even worse.

  Eventually I have to leave Law’s apartment and go back over to my building to take care of a few business things, but I don’t go up to my office. I use the computer in the restaurant office to do what I need, and then I go back to Law’s and spend the night there.

  The next morning he has to go to work and I have to face Hanna and the Home TV people. Which means I have to go back up to my apartment and give her more footage of me, because clearly, there’s a bug in there, or a camera, or whatever. Because I’ve been thinking about this all night.

  Law came over to my place last Friday and we talked about our game. I told him what I needed, he told me what he needed, and those Home TV people said they got a call on Saturday.

  Which means Hanna heard that whole conversation.

  And boy, does that bitch work quick, or what?

  When I get to Bronco Brews, it’s only nine AM. I thought about staying away until the meeting, but then I got a call from Jordan telling me he had a security specialist coming over to sweep my apartment.

  “Hey, Oaklee!” Justine, the hostess on the schedule today, says. “Your nine thirty is here early.” She nods to a guy sitting over on a bench tapping something on his phone.

  “Thanks, Justine,” I say, then walk over to the man. “Are you Dennis?”

  He stands, offers me his hand, and says, “The one and only. Where do you want me to start?”

  “Follow me,” I say, walking to the elevators where the brand-new security will ensure that Hanna never gets up here again, because Eduardo put the whole system on lockdown and changed the code, just in case.

  When we get up to my apartment I say, “Check everything.”

  But he’s already got his large black bag open, fishing out electronic sweeping equipment to look for bugs and cameras.

  So I go over to my desk and start thinking about my plan again.

  Kill her.

  Or set her brewery on fire.

  Those are the only things I have so far and neither of them is the answer.

  That’s the thing about revenge, right? You sink so low to get it.

  I will become Hanna if I do something stupid.

  And it’s no use fighting her lies. I mean, my sister? Come on. She’s so insane. But all it takes is a rumor, right? People don’t care about the truth. All it takes is one interview with Hanna talking shit to change minds. She could tank my whole brewery business with one lie. And even though none of what she told Law is true, he believed her. Even if it was only for a night, he believed her.

  And everyone she tells this story too will believe her as well. Even if it’s just for a day. One day is too long.

  So I can’t kill her. And I can’t defend myself from her lies because she hasn’t gone public yet.

  How fucked up that I can’t fight back until she lashes out. And if she never tells that lie to the public it becomes a deterrent. It becomes the most powerful weapon in her arsenal.

  Right now what we have is a classic case of mutually assured destruction. We have bombs aimed at each other that neither of us can use without destroying ourselves at the same time.

  How the fuck do I get out of this?

  How do I take away her power and not blow myself up at the same time?

  The phone buzzes in my office so I pull myself out of my thoughts, get up, and walk over to press the speaker button. “Yes?” I say

  “It’s Dana! So like, you’ve got people down here,” she says in her Valley Girl accent. “Do you want me to send them up?”

  “No,” I say. “I’ll be right down.”

  “All finished,” Dennis says, coming down the stairs from the catwalk.

  “Find anything?”

  He just smiles. I take that as a yes.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “It’s just my job,” Dennis says, meeting me at the elevator.

  We get in, I take him downstairs, where he disappears into the kitchen to leave by the back alley.

  I focus on the people waiting for me in the reception area, tug on my bedazzled t-shirt to focus myself, and then walk forward with a smile to greet Hanna and the Home TV entourage.

  I smile big, playing along like a good little girl doing what she’s told.

  There’s air kisses, and handshakes, and laughing, and… yeah.

  I’m pretty much living my worst nightmare.

  Hanna is eating it up.

  I want to barf.

  But I rally, because I have no plan. I have nothing. Even though she did all this unspeakable shit to me, she holds all the cards and we both know it.

  I take them upstairs. I play hostess. I get out my beers and line them up on the counter, much the way I did for Lawton last week. Hanna, ever prepared for a throwdown, brought hers with her and there’s a few curious looks between the executives as they come to the same realization that Law did.

  “Wow,” Michaela says. “They are certainly similar. You two don’t mess around, do you?”

  I make myself smile.

  “You know why that is?” Hanna asks, beaming with delight at her coup.

  “Why is that?” I ask, leaning forward a little, because I cannot wait to hear her answer.

  “It’s because Oaklee and I are… well, she’s my nemesis.”

  I want to say, Ah ha! But I don’t, because… well, I think it’s pretty obvious.

  “And I’m hers,” Hanna continues. “And you know what they say about your nemesis?”

  “No,” I growl. “What do they say?”

  Hanna smiles at me, and I swear to God, I think it’s real. “They say… they challenge you to be your best self. They make you better. We, Oaklee, make each other better.”

  “Yes,” Michaela says. “That’s so fascinating! This is what we’re eating up right now, ladies. This… this… this diabolical sense that you two want to kill each other. And yet that anger and hatred makes you so much more interesting. So much more successful. This show is going to be fabulous!”

  Yeah, this Michaela, she can suck my tit.

  “It’s like Larry Bird and Magic Johnson,” Mike, apparently a basketball dude, says. “They played, not only so their teams could win, but so they could beat each other. And when one was not playing, the other faltered.”

  “Is that so?” I ask. “I don’t follow basketball.” And this is certainly not like that at all, I don’t add.

  Because this is… this is Charles Xavier versus Magneto. This is Superman versus Lex Luthor. This is Batman versus Joker.

  And Hanna Harlow is Magneto, Lex Luthor, and Joker all wrapped up into one neat insane package. She has me imprisoned in Kryptonite-infused metal and I don’t even have a fucking Batarang to defend myself.

  We’re talking nemesis to the highest order. We’re talking insane radioactive assholes with planet-sized egos. Larry Bird and Magic Johnson look like toddlers fighting over toys compared to me and Hanna.

  I need to find her weakness. B
ecause so far, nothing I do or say affects her at all. It’s just one lie on top of another. And it all comes out of her mouth sounding like… like absolute truth.

  She is charismatic in the worst way. So evil, people want to believe there’s something underneath all that hate and anger—because otherwise they have to believe in the Devil himself… and that scares the shit out of them.

  She is the reason we love to watch the Joker. And it doesn’t even matter that we know he’s insane, that everything that comes out of his mouth is lies, that he’s going to betray anyone and everyone who gets in his way—even those on his side.

  We want to believe he’s good underneath or we have to admit that evil is real.

  How do I fight that?

  I need a whole team of superheroes by my side to beat her ass down. I need all my superfriends to show up and help me. I need…

  Now, hey there. Wait just a second…

  That’s not a bad idea…

  In fact, I think I just came up with a plan.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE - LAWTON

  The week passes so fast, and Sunday—the day of the festival—comes so quick, my head feels like it’s spinning with all the shit that’s happening.

  I’m not gonna lie—Oaklee getting offered a TV show instead of me… well, it did sting for a few days. But then I thought about her. How she must feel, being stuck with Hanna all day long for the last three days. Unable to speak her mind. Unable to tell anyone how much she’s been wronged. Unable to find… justice, I guess.

  And then I got over it.

  Because I realized something important this past week. That I’m not the man I thought I was. That I was never that man. And that my problem wasn’t that I’m dissatisfied with my career, I was dissatisfied with myself.

  The TV show was never going to fix me.

  “OK,” Oaklee says as we walk up to the festival grounds. “I think I’m ready for this.”

  “Ready to lose and take one for the team?” I ask, shooting her a lopsided grin.

  “So ready,” she says, squeezing my hand. “I just want to get this over with.”