I wanted to do something for her, something that would give her a reason to get out of bed every morning. I found a bookstore for sale through my real estate listings. I made the down payment, and she paid rent to the holding company. Okay, so that holding company was actually me. I added those payments to the condo rent she paid. By the time she found out the truth, she would have a nice nest egg of her own to do whatever she wanted.

It gave me great satisfaction to do this for her. She flourished owning that store. It took several months of renovations, but she loved it. I helped her decorate, and we hired a young girl part-time to do stocking and sales. Haven seemed happiest in that environment.

I had to beg and plead for her to go out with me. She was the worst wing woman ever. I knew she was miserable about the way she looked. No longer rail thin and tan, her body had matured and become rounder. It happened to me first. I’d lost my college body a long time ago and learned how to adapt to my more mature physique and make it work for me. We were hardly models, but we could still pull off hot as hell.

Life got back to semi normal. Her working all the time and me… Well, I loved my day job, but I lived for those deviant nights. When the weekends came around, so did the parties. Most times when I came home, I tried being quiet, but one night I’d had just a little too many and met an actor that was too good to be true. Hung like a horse with stamina to boot. As I came into my living room, I bumped into the end table, stubbing my toe, knocked over the lamp, and tripped on the carpet.

“Jesus, Weezie, it’s five in the morning. Could you be a little louder?” Haven moaned as she yawned, barely awake

“Sorry. Too much to—fuck! Son of a bitch. Fuck,” I replied as I stumbled into the coffee table again.

“Need help? Maybe AA?”

“Very funny. I’m not an alcoholic. I just overindulged. You should have seen the size of this guy’s co—”

Haven’s hand covered my mouth. “Shut up! I do not need dimensions. Go to bed.”

“He almost gave me the Oscar he won for his last film because the blowjob I gave him was so award-winning.” I chuckled.

Haven looked murderous. Even in my drunken state, I could see that. I loved pushing her buttons. “I am begging you. Please stop with the graphic details about… you know,” she whined.

“You mean BLOWJOB?”

She cringed as she turned several shades of red. “I swear, maybe you should just give up your day job and go into that fulltime.”

I licked my lips. I hadn’t thought about that, but maybe she had the right idea. Of course, a blowjob might be a job to another woman, but it wasn’t work for me.

“Okay, bestie. Puff chore. Does that sound better to your delicate constitution?”

“Very funny,” Haven said, and I could see her mind working.

I laughed. “I don’t know why puff chores get you so flustered. Regardless of whatever we call it, it still means the same thing. Sucking cock,” I said in amusement.

“Seriously, Weezie, go to bed before I kill you. I do not want to discuss the pros and cons of you know what at five a.m.”

“You gave that asshole motherfucker ex of yours one, right? I mean, you have sucked—given a puff chore?”

Haven hunched her shoulders with a loud exhale. I could tell she was getting mad. “I guess not a very good one since he felt the need to go elsewhere,” she mumbled. “Please, can we go to sleep now? We can finish the Q-and-A tomorrow.”

“Fuck him. He was probably used to a more masculine mouth anyway,” I quipped. Just thinking about blowing him left a bad taste burning in my throat. Or maybe that was the vodka.

“I never liked it. It was uncomfortable. It hurt my jaw.” She groaned as she turned around to go back to bed.

“Wait. Stop. Ever smoke a cigar, Haven?” I asked, knowing full well she was much too tightly wound to have ever inhaled anything.

She paused and turned, shaking her head.

“So it’s like this, and I’m only using this as example and these words as terminology. So please do not bite off my head. When you smoke a cigar, you puff on it, you never deeply inhale—you never take it all the way in or you’ll cough like hell. Unless you’re a seasoned pro like me. A cock is similar to a stogie, especially if you’ve never tried it or are reluctant, in your case. Men and their cocks are easy. Once you have it in your mouth, they’re putty in your hands. You could do anything you want and they’ll think you’re the second coming because you have their dick in your mouth.” I chuckled. “Next time the opportunity presents itself—and I swear it will; believe me—try licking, blowing, or puffing. They won’t care. They’ll be convinced you’re the reincarnation of Linda Lovelace.”

Haven blinked several times. “Who’s Linda Lovelace?”

I shook my head. “One of these days, I’m going to tie your ass to a chair and make you watch porn.”

She snorted. “Um… don’t think so, but thanks for Puff Chore 101 at dawn. Now go to bed, for God’s sake.”

“You said puff chore. Did you make a funny at five in the morning?”

I mentally rolled my eyes. She still wanted me to refer to it as a puff chore. Seriously. Next time I gave a blowjob—puff chore—it would be hard not to chuckle. Of course, men loved it when you mumbled or giggled while their dick was in your mouth. The vibration went straight into their brainstem and made them come. Men were amusing creatures. It never took much, just a mouth that was warm and wet—they were happy campers. For that fact, so was I.

I could cross what’s his name again off my list. It had been stimulating, but I hadn’t given him my number, and he had asked. I wasn’t interested in doing him again. He appeared surprised as I gathered my things to leave. I would never be one of those needy women who had to be held. Oh, please.

By the time I turned forty, I’d blown my way through most of the men in Hollywood and quite a few on the East Coast as well. Having full-on sex with someone, I kept that in the low double digits. It was too personal. A blowjob wasn’t intimate—at least for me.

Men didn’t fall for women like me. I was too bossy and strong. I wanted to be on top, and the word got around. There were worse things than being referred to as a tenacious and controlling woman who gave the best fellatio. I tried to keep my professional life separate from my private. Not that easy to do when ninety percent in the company were men. It seemed they wanted their “slice of the pie.” Especially Thomas.

The only reason I broke my golden rule and slept with him was that I knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. I mean, he was drop-dead gorgeous. And his mouth—holy fuck—with those lips, he should have been the one giving blowjobs. I also knew Thomas just wanted to have sex with me. His intentions were evident. Us doing each other wouldn’t be messy or emotional. It was nothing personal.

What the fuck? It was emotional. I could hardly contain my laughter when he took off his pants. Exactly how could someone that looked like him be hung like that? His dick was a snack food. A hundred-calorie pack. His cock was so miniature it looked like the toy prize in a Cracker Jack box. I’d be afraid I’d swallow it—literally.

It was a good thing he could kiss. The way he lip-locked made my heart swell, my breath shudder, and my panties wet. Oh God, but he was going to fuck me with that. I hadn’t been trained in faking an orgasm. I was self-taught. This wasn’t going to be fulfilling at all. I hadn’t tried anal because it never appealed to me. But I had a better chance at climaxing if he fucked me in the ass and stimulated my clit manually. Really and truly.

I needed to get my head in the game. Thomas might have been hot—well, except for the hung like a hamster part—but he was also a conniving prick who was trying to steal some of my wealthier clients.