by Madison Faye
“Why do you say that?” No sign in the deep voice that I’m boring him with my patheticness.
“‘Cause it’s true. We’re the same age. I’ve always been compared to her and I never come out looking good. For example,” I take a deep breath, “she’s a beauty queen and I’m… well, I’m me.”
Silence.
Yeah, this is humiliating. But I’ve given up guys, and it’s not like he’s gonna date me, so it doesn’t matter what I say. “And she’s getting married and I just broke up with my boyfriend.”
“He didn’t sound like a keeper.”
For a moment I’m confused. Did I tell him about my ex? Then last night’s whole conversation comes flooding back and the crimson tide of my blush advances. I’m about to turn bright red in the middle of the department store.
And then it hits me: the thing I’ve been trying to remember. It shines in the daylight with horrific clarity: don’t talk about not being able to orgasm with a man. That’s supposed to be a secret between me and my vibrator.
Damn tequila.
“He was all right.”
“He just didn’t satisfy you.” Bear’s voice seems to get deeper.
“Um.” I can’t believe I overshared to two random guys at a bar. My cheeks are about to spontaneously combust. I duck behind a display lest the saleslady see. “No, he did not.”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. Sawyer and I have a proposition for you.”
“Sawyer?”
“The bartender. We’re friends from way back. We’d like to help you and think you can help us.”
“Oh… kay.”
“You free for lunch?”
“Um, today?” I glance around. My feet have already taken me to the department store’s exit. “I could be. I took off work to run an errand.” I take a step and the sliding doors open. Above, a bird wheels lazily in the clear blue sky. Freedom.
“Meet me at the bar at one. I’ll buy.”
“What, like a date?” I cringe. Of course he didn’t mean it like that. “I mean, I’m super busy today. And you know I’ve sworn off men forever.” I try to joke, but it comes out serious.
Bear is silent. He’s probably wishing he hadn’t called. Gah! Why did I say the ‘d’ word?
“What’s the proposition?” I ask as casually as I can. “I’m curious.”
“I’d rather tell you in person.” His voice is a low rumble.
“Oh? Is it something illegal?”
“No.”
Damn, nothing I’m saying is coming out right. “What is it? Just tell me.”
“We want to help you orgasm.”
Apparently I died in the bar last night, because now I’m in heaven. Or hell. Either way, my head has exploded because it takes some time for me to choke out, “Excuse me?”
“Sawyer and I are competitive. We’ve always been, since we met. We try to see who’s the best in everything.”
Now I have no idea what he’s talking about. But I can’t hang up. The memory of his big body hovering protectively over mine is imprinted on me.
Besides, my libido is wide awake and listening.
“We’ve argued for a long time who’s better in bed. And this is our chance to find out. We talked about your situation last night and decided.”
My thoughts are running in circles, but they focus for a second. “You talked about me?”
“Yeah, baby.” Every time he says “baby,” I melt a little bit more. “A woman like you should be satisfied in bed. You’re perfect for our competition.”
“What competition?”
“To see who’s better in bed. We’ll both sleep with you, get you off, and you’ll be the judge.”
I’m in the Twilight Zone. I’m on Candid Camera. In a second, someone’s going to jump out and shout “Surprise!”
I gulp. “Why me?”
“You’re a virgin.”
“What? No, I’m not.”
“You’ve never come with a man before,” he points out.
There’s no oxygen in the store; I’m surprised I haven’t passed out.
“Maybe I can’t,” I say casually, as if I’m the sort of person who talks about her sex life with gorgeous strangers. Which, as of last night, I am.
The deep chuckle rumbles like thunder through the cell phone, and stirs up things down below. I clutch a column to keep my knees from giving out. “I like a challenge.”
“Well… okay.”
A pause. “You agree?”
“I…” I have no idea what to say. On the one hand are two hot guys who want to compete to satisfy me in bed. On the other… what the hell is going on? “Are you sure you want me?”
The answer, when it comes, is gentle. “Yeah, baby.”
I can’t argue with that. What would I say? I don’t think I’m that attractive. I have cellulite. Are you sure you want me?
“Just think about it. I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says, and hangs up, leaving me opening and closing my mouth like a fish in the middle of the men’s section.
* * *
“Did he tell you?” There’s a smile in Sawyer’s voice when he calls me. I’ve spent the whole day reeling, walking around like a zombie, replaying Bear’s call over and over in my head.
“Yeah.” I let out a shaky breath. “Is he for real?”
“Oh, yeah,” Sawyer laughs. “He’s always for real. Truth is, we’ve been thinking about doing this for a long time. Just needed the right opportunity.”
“And that’s me?”
“That’s right.”
“Huh,” I say, and he laughs.
“Come on. It’ll be fun. You can’t say you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I want to…” I trail off, imagining these two guys towering over me, taking my hand and leading me into a bedroom. Unreal, and yet my body sings to life just picturing it. “I just don’t know if it will be… wise.”
“We’ll make it worth your while.” His voice vibrates through me.
“Do you do this a lot?”
“Nope. Like I said, we’ve been waiting for the right one to come along.”
I weigh his words. The right one sounds nice, but maybe they were waiting for someone pathetic and desperate enough to say yes to something crazy. That would explain why they picked me.
“I don’t even know you guys.”
“Get to know us,” he coaxes. He has an answer for everything. “We can spend time together… not fucking.”
“I don’t date,” I say automatically. Somehow this line has become my shield.
“We know,” he soothes. “You’ve made that clear. Think of this as… exploring. For mutual benefit. C’mon, Evie,” he adds when I hesitate. “Live a little.”
* * *
I have to hand it to the guys, they know what they’re doing. Sawyer and I talk for a while, and end up flirting via text all day until his bar shift. Bear calls me again, as promised. They’re so fun, so caring, and I’m so flattered by the attention whenever doubt starts to surface, I can’t convince myself to back out. Even when I google their names and get pictures of Bear at a car show, posing with a model, and Sawyer at a beach party with what looks like the top three contestants in a wet t-shirt contest. It’s obvious they can get any girl they want, any time. So why do they want me? I need to know these guys. I need to know what game they’re playing. I need a professional level stalker, and I know just who to call.
“Hey, bitch,” Mina sings cheerfully. “What’s happening?”
“Do you have to call me that?”
“You know how I like to swear. It’s a term of endearment.”
“Fine.” I shake my head. “I need you to look into someone. Two someones.”
“Oh?” Mina drawls, but I can tell she’s super interested.
I give her Bear’s and Sawyer’s full names.
“What?” Her voice gets clearer, and the sound of typing rushes like a waterfall in the background. Even in high school, Mina was a super nerd—the kind who learns to pro
gram before she can drive and tries to hack NASA’s firewall for fun. “They were in school with my older brothers. What’s going on with them?”
My cheeks color just saying it. “They kinda want to… play with me.”
“What!” Mina shrieks. “Both of them? Damn, I leave town and you have all the fun.” The sound of typing intensifies.
“Just… see what you can dig up on them.”
“On it. I’ll get you a report. Credit report, background check, arrest record, evidence of crazy exes on social media—you will know all.”
I suck in a breath. “Thanks.”
“No problem, bitch. You’re my bestie. Mina out.” The line goes dead and I rub my forehead.
Twenty-four hours later I get Mina’s report via email. It’s one sentence: Thunderbirds are go!
I call her. “You’re sure?” I say before she can greet me. “No shady stuff? At all?”
“Nothing. Bear owns a business—two businesses, actually. Mechanic plus body shop. They do well enough that he paid his brother back the initial investment, plus profit. Did you know Bear isn’t his real name?”
“No… well, I figured it was a nickname.”
“Yep. Anyway! Sawyer’s a bit of a drifter, but he’s a decent guy. Does photography on the side.”
I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or exhilarated. “Did you look everywhere? Even social media?”
“Yep, and let me tell you, it was sooo hard, scrolling through all those pictures of Sawyer surfing. And Bear must work out all the time because… damn.”
My stomach flips.
Mina reads into my silence. “Why? Did you want me to find something?”
“No. No, it’s okay. Thanks, Mina.”
“You said they’re interested in you?”
“No, it’s more… it’s more of a bet they have. I’m involved.” I cover my face with my hand, feeling the blush creeping up. Good thing Mina can’t see.
“You gotta tell me about it. Most girls would give anything to get involved with those two. Even in high school, those guys could get laid anytime they wanted.”
“Yeah.” Which is why it makes zero sense why they’d want to sleep with me. “Thanks, Mina.”
“You can pay me back by telling me everything, when I’m home for Thanksgiving.”
“Sounds good.” Whatever I have with Bear and Sawyer will be over by then. I’ll have had my fun (or not) and this will be a memory. “I promise to tell you everything.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” Mina says, and adds, “They’re shit hot, girl. And so are you. Go get ‘em.”
Chapter Two
“Before we start, we need to discuss the terms.”
“The terms?” I’m sitting on my couch with the TV on silent, talking to Bear. He’s taken to calling me every night. Sawyer and I typically text all day, but he works nights at the bar. I don’t want to admit how much I look forward to Bear’s gravelly voice on the other end of the phone, even if he’s always so serious. Sawyer is more flirty.
“The terms of the competition. We each get three chances with you, alone.” I note he doesn’t use the ‘d’ word. This definitely isn’t about dating me. “If you don’t decide the winner by then, there’ll be a final round.”
“Okay.” I’m glad I’m on the phone. Eventually I’ll stop blushing at thought of being with them. Maybe. After three rounds each, I should be cool, worldly, and sophisticated. Ready to jump into bed with a hot guy, no strings attached.
“Talking by phone or text doesn’t count. You gotta be comfortable with us.” He pauses. “You gonna be able to do this?”
“Yes.” I am cool and calm as a movie star on the red carpet. Everyone wants a piece of me. I stand resilient in the endless flashing of cameras.
“Good luck,” I tell him graciously, then rethink it. Maybe this is like theater, where wishing someone good luck is bad luck. “Break a leg. Or a dick.” Gah, that doesn’t sound right.
“There’s more,” he says after a pause, during which I berate myself for being the most awkward person ever. “We have some rules.”
“Rules. Like… no rebounds?”
“Rules for you.”
I sit up straighter, not sure what to say.
“Some of them you’ll learn as we go. But if you agree to this, there’s one you need to know now. As long as we’re doing this, you don’t come.”
“I thought the point was for me to come.”
“You will. But not without permission.”
“So when I’m alone…”
“You can ask permission. We may or may not say yes. And when you’re with us, you ask. Every time.”
“You assume I’ll be able to come.”
“I know you will.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll ask permission. Any other rules you want to tell me?”
“That’s it for now. You ready to do this?”
I take a deep breath. I’m a suave, sophisticated woman, about to embark on an affair with a pair of men. It’s like Sex and the City without the great shoes. “You had me at hello. Or, in this case, orgasm.”
“Good, baby. Then it starts now.” His voice deepens. “Where are you?”
“On the couch, watching TV.”
“Turn it off,” he orders.
Bemused, a little curious why I’m obeying, I do.
“Are you wearing clothes?”
“Yeah, what I wear to bed. Shorts and a t-shirt.”
“You live with anyone? Roommates, baby,” he clarifies when I hesitate.
“No.”
“Take off the shorts. From now on you sleep in just a t-shirt.”
I swallow. “Okay.”
His voice changes again, becoming gentle. “You doing okay?”
“Uh, yeah.” I do a mental checkup. My body tingles with excitement.
“If I tell you to do something you don’t want to, just talk to me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good, baby,” he croons and warmth spreads through me. “Now, put me on speaker.” He waits until I confirm, then orders, “Take off your panties.”
Oh, god. Oh, god. My hands shake a little as I strip down.
“Get comfortable on the couch, and keep your legs open.”
I obey, panting a little. I feel wired, alive, like I’ve entered a new dimension. “Bear?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” Lying back, I let my legs flop open. The only way I could be more charged with excitement is if a portal opened up in front of my TV and he appeared to watch me.
Oh, god. I was going to orgasm from him just telling me what to do.
“You know what comes next, right?” His voice is low, heady. It hits my bloodstream like alcohol. “Touch yourself.”
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“No swearing. Another rule.”
My breath gusts out in a laugh. “I can’t swear?”
“Or else face the consequences.”
“What consequences?” Now I’m really curious.
“Disobey and find out. Are you touching?”
My fingers slide against my sweet spot, my flesh growing wetter by the second. “Yeah.”
“Talk to me. Tell me how you get off.”
Oh, god. “I touch, um, myself.”
“On your clit?”
“Near it. Kinda above it. Light strokes.” My voice slurs like I’m drunk.
“Are you wet, baby?”
Baby. I don’t know why it gets me, but it does. “Yes.”
“If I was there, I’d make you show me.” My fingers quicken at the tortured gravel of his voice. “I’d make you spread your legs wider and show me everything.” My legs automatically slide apart further. The angle sparks new pleasure and my breath catches. “That’s it, keep stroking. From now on you only touch when I give you permission, understand?”
“Ah, um, okay.” I’m in no position to formulate a logical argument.
“Are you close?”
“Yes.” I have
n’t been this turned on before when touching myself. Maybe ever.
“Keep going. Tell me when you’re right on the edge.”
He gets quiet, but his voice, the mental picture of him waiting, watching, dictating my every move drives my pleasure. I touch myself by his leave. Each stroke brings me closer to him and the tipping point.
“Okay. I’m close.” My fingers speed up, grasping for the orgasm hovering just out of reach.
“Stop.”
I make a sound like ‘nuh’ but he ignores it.
“That was good, baby. You did good. Now go to sleep.”
My pussy pulses in protest. “What? You don’t want me to come?”
“Not tonight.”
“Damn,” I say, and belatedly remember his earlier instruction. “I mean, darn.”
“Will you be able to sleep?”
“Eventually,” I manage, and he chuckles.
“Text me in the morning.”
“Okay.” It’s insane how he orders me about and I just… melt. Whatever game he’s playing, it’s working for me.
* * *
For the first time in my life, I start to have sex dreams. The competition officially begins in a week, but the guys don’t let up on seducing me. Bear orders me to message him each morning and he sends me off with a ‘good girl.’ I flirt with Sawyer via text all day at my job. My day ends with Bear’s call; he works me up and sends me to bed. When I vent my frustration to Sawyer, he only laughs about Bear’s need to ‘have things a certain way.’
These men are my days and my nights. I am a volcano of sexual need, counting the hours and minutes and seconds to our eventual sexy time, my own personal ‘Cum-mageddon.’
And then, the day finally arrives.
Chapter Three
Round 1
Bear pulls up in a bright yellow Hummer. He’s bigger than I remembered. Good thing he offered to drive—there’s no way my Civic would fit his massive frame.
He comes around to open my door. He has to give me a boost, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing, his hands fitting easily around my waist. He buckles me in like I’m five. His big hand slides down my leg before he shuts my door, leaving every nerve ending in me on high alert.
