Jillian tilted her head, seemingly confused. “How do you know?”
I gave her my best, ‘Are you serious?’ face and pursed my lips. “You know, Jillybean. If certain—events—don’t happen, then you can be pretty certain it wasn’t good for them.”
It finally dawned on her what I meant. “Oh. Umm, okay. Like, as in, they’ve never finished? Or sometimes don’t?”
“It’s not like I’ve done it to droves of guys. But—uh—never,” I said, feeling a deeper heat of embarrassment run through me.
Her expression flattened out. I’d known her long enough to understand this was her crisis face. Whenever she was in a crunch or we were goals down with not a lot of time left on the clock, this was what she looked like.
“Damn, this is bad, right? I’m bad? I’m a horrible head giver,” I whimpered, sinking further into the couch as I closed my eyes and shook my head.
“We can fix this. All you need is some—guidance.”
“Like maybe I’ll have a covert camera in the bedroom, and you tell me what to do through an inconspicuous earphone?” That was the first idea that had popped into my mind.
Jillian stood, brushing off her short skirt. “Let’s try something less—intrusive, first. Okay?” Then she swayed over to grab my laptop off the kitchen island. She sat back down beside me, googling like a pro.
Up shot a whole page full of women giving men—well, you know. Clicking on the first option, moaning and groaning filled the apartment. “Yikes, turn it down,” I said, covering my mouth and looking around as though someone might be watching.
Jillian giggled and turned the volume down. “Noise is a big part of it, G. If he feels like you’re enjoying yourself—then he’ll really enjoy himself. Get me?”
“So, fake it?” I asked, thinking I should probably be taking notes.
While I slid one of my notebooks off the side table, she let out a nervous laugh. “No, no, never fake anything with a guy. But if you’re feeling it—let him know. Are you writing this down?” she asked, tipping my notebook down with her fingers to peek.
“Jillybean, I might be awful at oral sex, but I’m a great student,” I said, continuing to scratch down her words of advice. “Keep going.”
“So first, I would—”
We were interrupted by a quick knock before two of the girls barged in. “Niki can’t find her phone, is it—” Giana said, stopping in her tracks. “What are you guys doing? Having a porn-fest?”
It was too late to shut down the computer. We’d been caught. “Gigi’s bad at head. I’m trying to give her a crash course,” Jillian said calmly, like it was no big deal. She said it the same way she’d say, “We only need three goals. We can do this,” on the ice with three minutes left in the game.
Yeah, this was bad.
“Oh boy,” Niki said, walking like a zombie toward the laptop. She nearly hung her head over Jillian’s shoulder, watching the woman on the screen go after—it. “Oh boy.”
“Haven’t you ever seen porn before, Niki?” Gianna asked, nudging her over so she could take a better look.
Niki shook her head. “Not really. A few times out of curiousity. It all seems kind of—icky to me. Like you’re standing in their bedroom or something.”
“Some people like that thought. But anyway, you are in luck because I am the queen of head. I can teach you everything you ever needed to know. Now tell me what your goals are, G? And what are your barriers to reaching those goals?”
I smiled to myself slightly. After much consideration, we’d decided Gianna would have a big future in human resources. Her personality fit perfectly. “Beau’s just so much older, more experienced. He’s used to being with more-sophisticated women. I need to learn how to give good head.” I shook my head and amended my statement. “No, not just good head—magical head. The best head. Fireworks on Canada Day, head.”
“Sounds reasonable. Rome wasn’t built in a day, G. This takes some practice. I mean there’s some skill to it, don’t get me wrong. It’s definitely a practice makes perfect kind of thing, though,” Gianna said, and my shoulders slumped.
“I don’t have the luxury of practice. I need to cram, and I need to do it now.” So far, I’d been able to head off—well, head. We hadn’t been sleeping together long. However, if oral didn’t start soon, he’d probably begin to wonder why.
And I didn’t want to tell him.
“How you’ve managed to avoid it for all these weeks, I’ll never know, girl. But for real, if you don’t want to or you’re not into it—then he needs to understand. Pressuring you into doing something you don’t want to do is not cool,” Gianna said very matter of fact.
“No, no, I’m fine with—the act itself. I’m just not very good,” I promised her.
She looked around the room, then her gaze landed on the fridge. “We need props, G.”
“Props?” I questioned as I bit the end of my pen.