“I’m coming! I’m coming! Aaahhhhhh —” Silence as I slam the computer shut, then turn my murderous eyes on Chelsea, who stands innocently by the still open door.
“I have clients in this neighborhood, Chelsea.”
“I know,” she replies, a wicked grin on her face. “Not my fault you were getting your kicks that loudly.”
“I wasn’t! It was for research!”
“Oh?” she asks. “You plan on getting banged by a father-son duo?”
“No, but —” I look down at my laptop. “It was father-son?”
Chelsea shrugs. “I don’t know. I sure as fuck hope not. I’m not one to yuck someone’s yum, but incest sex just ain’t it.”
I grimace. “That’s incredibly gross. And illegal everywhere, I think.”
She plops down next to me on the couch. “Wanna explain to me how you ended up watching some porn at four in the afternoon?”
Suddenly shy, I avoid her pointed gaze. “I told you. Research.”
“Hmm,” she hums, tapping a pointed nail on her chin. “I’m going to assume you and Jamie finally did the deed, and now you’re spiraling because you’re assuming you aren’t the best he’s ever had, so you’re going to try and rock his world the next time.”
“That’s not exactly true,” I mutter. It’s pretty close, but I’m not telling her that.
“Audrey. You can’t watch this kind of porn and think it’ll make you suddenly a better lover. These are professionals, first off. But what did you think you’d learn?”
“I didn’t intend to watch it. I was just curious for a second.” God, my face must be beet-red.
“Alright. What were you hoping to find?” Chelsea asks gently.
Okay. I can admit this. I can tell her. She’s my best friend. She won’t judge me. She’ll probably make fun of me for a bit, but I know it’s in jest. She’d never be consciously hurtful. “I wanted to learn more about blow jobs.”
“Ahh. Why is that?”
This is the part that hurts. “The guy I dated after vet school said I was really bad at them.”
“Did he come each time?” Chelsea asks pointedly.
My cheeks burn. “He usually stopped me before it got that far. Said he wanted to come inside me instead. When he told me I was bad at them when we broke up, I didn’t know what to believe.”
“How difficult could it be? I wouldn’t know. Been enjoying the taco for as long as I can remember.”
“Enjoying the taco,” I snicker.
“You got any bananas? We can practice. I’m all for learning new tricks. If anything, it’ll be great for scaring the hell out of my super conservative and religious neighbor,” she says with a laugh as she jumps up to go search in my kitchen. Flash lifts her head, looks between the two of us, sighs, then puts her head back down. She startles when Chelsea hoots. “Score! Found the naners!”
“Give part of one to Flash, or she won’t leave us alone,” I say absentmindedly. Flash loves bananas.
“Obviously. You think I’d leave her out of this chaos? Never.” Chelsea dutifully feeds my dog on her way back to my couch. Clapping her hands together gleefully, she pats my knee. “Alright. Bring on the porn!”
For the next thirty minutes, we flip between a variety of videos. We steer clear of the lesbian ones, much to Chelsea’s chagrin. It turns out she’s very particular about all porn, and I finally had to tell her to shut up when she critiqued one of the storylines. It’s porn. I’m not expecting it to win an Academy Award. Yeah, I know getting my dishwasher fixed isn’t going to result in me being railed against the sink. Chelsea grumbles her thoughts occasionally, but for the most part, stays blissfully silent.
When I happen upon an actual instructional video, we’re both glued to the screen. This time, it isn’t Chelsea who can’t stay quiet. I have lots of questions.
“How is she not gagging?”
“Does the piercing get caught? Remember that one movie with Cameron Diaz and Christina Applegate where it got caught in Selma Blair’s mouth?”
“She keeps focusing on that one spot. I wonder if it’s super sensitive on all men, or just that guy.”
