Lip Service (A Pleasure Chest Story) Read online

  Lip Service

  Penny Wylder

  Contents

  Copyright

  Books By Penny Wylder

  1. Mayra

  2. Mayra

  3. Philip

  4. Mayra

  5. Philip

  6. Mayra

  7. Mayra

  8. Philip

  9. Mayra

  10. Philip

  11. Mayra

  12. Philip

  13. Mayra

  Epilogue

  Copyright © 2016 by Penny Wylder

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Books By Penny Wylder

  Filthy Boss

  Her Dad’s Friend

  Rockstars F#*k Harder

  The Virgin Intern

  Her Dirty Professor

  The Pool Boy

  Get Me Off

  Caught Together

  Selling Out to the Billionaire

  1

  Mayra

  Okay, so it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Even though my body has so much adrenaline rushing through it that I’m jittery. I swear, my brain thinks that I’m about to fight a shark or a really large bear. That’s really the only explanation for the fight-or-flight reaction I’m having right now. But no, it’s just a sex shop.

  It’s actually a lot nicer than I expected. In my head I had this image of a seedy hole in the wall with the decor of Dracula’s lair, chains and dildos hanging from the ceiling. Yeah, no. Looking around now, I’m embarrassed about how many times I walked up and down the block before I let myself actually come in. My heart is still pounding, and I feel awkward as hell, but the store is nice. It’s all glass display cases and fun music. It kind of reminds me of a beauty store, the way it’s laid out, except for all the sex toys…

  I pull out my phone and check the time, and the time of the class. I’m still early. That’s fine, but it means walking around the store awkwardly looking at things I’ve never even thought of using. I’m standing by a display of kits, each brandishing the Pleasure Chest logo of erotically entangled legs, and a little sign that tells what’s inside. My eyes fall on one called the ‘Better Blow-Job Kit,’ and I snort out loud. If only it were that easy.

  I move away from that display quickly, trying to ignore the stab of pain and sadness that accompanies the thought. Bryan would have laughed at the kit, and not because he thought it was funny, but because he would have thought it was a good idea. That I needed help. His derision still hurt.

  He walked out of our apartment twenty-three days ago, without any warning. When I asked him why, he laughed—practically a super-villain laugh from the movies. “It’s the sex, Mayra. You suck at…well, at sucking.” He laughed again. “I need a woman who knows what to do with her mouth, not acts like it’s the first time she’s ever sucked a dick. I mean, the rest is terrible too, but a good blowjob can go a long way.”

  I tried to say that I could get better. Practice. Learn. Please don’t throw us away over something that can be fixed. He didn’t laugh this time, instead it looked like he was pitying me. “Mayra, don’t kid yourself. The rest of you doesn’t make up for the how terrible you are in bed.” And then he was gone. I honestly didn’t understand—I still don’t. I thought we were happy. Up until then, Bryan had been sweet, and never said anything about not being satisfied.

  Still, we’d always been honest with each other. He told me there was a problem, and I believed him. I told him I could learn, and I believe it. So that’s how I ended up drunkenly searching for sex classes late one night, finally stumbling across the ‘Blowjobs and Beyond’ class. It seemed like the perfect solution. Now I’m here, standing in a room full of silicon dicks regretting every choice I’ve ever made and hoping no one sees my face.

  I drag myself back to the present, pushing down the hurt from Bryan’s words. I really thought that coming here was a good idea, that I was over it enough to get up and move on. But now I’m not so sure. If a display in a sex store can send my emotions spiraling like that, am I really ready to move on?.

  “Can I help you find anything?”

  I jump backwards, startled by the voice, and crash directly into a shelf. I watch in horror as sample dildos of every size and color and the boxes behind them fall onto the floor in the world’s most pornographic chain of dominos. Oh. My. God. What did I just do?

  I look over to find a gorgeous Asian man in a black apron looking at me and the wreckage of the shelf, a look of startled surprise on his face. His hair is slicked back and I notice he has cheekbones that I would kill for, but that’s all I take in before I look away because I’m trying not to melt from embarrassment. My face is bright red, and I can feel the heat of the blush radiating from me. I lean down to help clean up the mess and blush harder because suddenly I’m holding two dildos in front of a complete stranger.

  He bends down and starts to pick up the boxes, straightening the shelf and putting them back.

  “I’m so sorry,” I manage to say under my breath, secretly hoping that a hole will open in the floor and swallow me up.

  He smiles, and it’s not unkind. “First time here?”

  “Yeah.” I put the toys back on the shelf, “Here, at any store like this.”

  I look on his apron for a name tag, and there isn’t one. Instead there’s a round button that says ‘Ass-master.’ I feel the blush creep up my neck at all the connotations that could have. “It’s fine,” he says. “It can be weird the first time. Even my boyfriend shut up like a clam the first time he came in here.”

  “That’s good to know.” I manage a small laugh.

  “Are you looking for anything specific? I can point you in the right direction. Maybe make some suggestions.” He winks, and I blush again, hurrying to stand up and put the last of the boxes back on the shelf.

  “I’m actually here for the…um…the class.”

  He lights up. “Perfect! I’ll walk you back.”

  I glance at the display one more time, making sure it’s back to normal and there isn’t a sea of dicks floating on the floor.

  “I think you’ll really like it,” my tour guide says, leading me towards the back of the store and an area curtained off with lush red curtains. “It’s a good class. Unfortunately, our regular teacher—Christa—is out sick.” A pang of disappointment rolls through me. Is the class cancelled then? I realize I was looking forward to it more than I had thought under all my anxiety. I guess I had thought it would be a good step in helping me get over what Bryan had said. “But don’t worry,” he continues, “she got a friend to come in for her. I’m sure it will be great.”

  He pats me on the shoulder as he leaves me at the door. “Have fun!”

  For a second I think about leaving. I mean, it’s not the real teacher, so it’s not the real experience. So maybe I should come back to their next class and make sure I’m learning properly. But if I leave now, I know I’ll regret it. I’ll spend the rest of the night beating myself up over what a chicken I am. I can always come back to the next class if I feel this one isn’t good enough. I straighten my spine and walk further past the curtain.

  There are already some women sitting in the chairs, waiting. Everyone seems relaxed—way more relaxed than I am. This isn’t a big deal. I’m not alone. I can do this. I can learn. Squashing my awkwardness and anxiety, I take a seat in the second row. I don’t want to be too far forward or back. Just blend in—it feels strategic, almost like
picking a new seat at the beginning of a school year.

  I check the time, and there’s still a few minutes left. At the front of the class there’s a long table, and on it I see a variety of sex toys, including some dildos and vibrators. Since this is supposed to be an oral sex class, I’m not sure what they’ll be used for. I’m really not sure if I want to find out. Oh god this was stupid—they’re not going to make us practice on those are they?

  There’s an easel with the title of the class written in a script that’s peppy and bright and cursive: Blowjobs and Beyond! There’s an accompanying heart and lipstick kiss. I’m wondering what ‘Beyond’ means. I didn’t read the class summary that closely and all I remember it saying was that I was sure to love it. Now, eyeing those dildos, I’m thinking I should have read more closely and made sure there wasn’t a practical aspect to the class. And I’m less worried about loving it and more worried about my next partner loving it. If someone else reacted the way Bryan did I don’t think I’d be able to take it. As shitty as his words were, I feel terrible that he had to pretend that he was happy for so long. I’m sorry that I didn’t see the problem earlier, that I didn’t fix it. If I had, maybe we’d still be together.

  A few more women have trickled into the room, and the chairs are close to full. It’s time to start the class, but there’s no sign of our substitute teacher. I check my phone out of habit, noting that I still feel a twinge that there aren’t any messages from Bryan. I’m not really expecting any, but there’s a part of me that’s still hoping for it. I click over to email, and I’m deleting some spam messages when I hear a gasp from one of the other women, and a collective hush falls over the little room.

  I look up and am met with the sight of one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen. Even in my head it sounds ridiculous, and my sensible brain rails against the hyperbole, but he really is. He’s wearing boots and jeans, an untucked button down with the sleeves rolled up. He looks like he’d be far more comfortable shirtless, ax in his hand, chopping down a tree. I don’t know if I’ve ever encountered someone who embodied the essence of man, the testosterone is practically rolling off him in waves. His face has a wildness about it, like it’s spent more time in nature than the rest of us and wasn’t able to be tamed. He looks fierce and rugged and something deep down inside me shivers.

  Then he smiles, and his whole face lights up. I feel a breath rush out of my lungs at the transformation. Just like that he goes from being something wild to something warm and charming and no less beautiful. He looks at me with that smile, and somehow, I feel like it’s just for me. I feel my entire body turn into jelly. Even from this distance I can tell that his eyes are a peculiar shade of dark blue.

  “Sorry I’m late, ladies,” he says, voice deep and rough, perfectly matching that wild exterior. “You know how L.A. traffic can be.”

  There’s scattered giggles across the women in the room.

  He walks up to the front of the room, casually leaning against the table. “My name is Philip Crew, and I’ll be your instructor today.”

  2

  Mayra

  “I know I’m not exactly who you were expecting,” he says, and there’s more laughter. “But I’ll do my best to fill in for Christa.”

  Around me, the women are in a fit of whispers. I hear snippets of words: Hot, sexy, damn. And damn is right, because at that moment Philip turns to the easel, which I had thought was just a sign, but is actually a presentation meant to be flipped through, the rest of us suddenly get a spectacular view of his ass. And it is a nice ass. His jeans are hugging it perfectly, and even though I’ve never been an ass girl, he might make me a convert.

  I hear a voice from behind me. “Even if you don’t do a good job filling in the class, you’re doing a great job filling out those jeans.”

  There’s a burst of laughter from the attendees as Philip turns and smiles at the speaker. “Why thank you. I do try.”

  Another voice. “I’d be willing to take private lessons.”

  “In what?” Philip laughs, flipping the first page of the display to the anatomy of the penis.

  “Whatever you’d be willing to teach,” says a girl in the front row.

  An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach as he winks at her, thanking her for the interest and politely declining. Yes, Philip is sexy. But the way he revels in the attention reminds me of Bryan. Even though Bryan never cheated on me, he’d always been a player. He flirted relentlessly, thriving on the attention and status that brought him. There’s always a catch. Of course Philip would be as fucking hot as he is only to be a player too. And learning something this intimate from someone this hot is only making me more nervous. Even if I never see him again I don’t want him to remember me as that girl so sad she had to take a class on blowjobs.

  Another wave of laughter brings me out of my thought spiral, and I realize I’ve missed something. Philip is laughing, and as he does, he looks straight at me. His laughter wells up inside me, and I feel my body warm in spite of this new revelation. I inwardly give my brain a smack. Stop loving how gorgeous he is. Someone asks Philip a question. “So do you normally teach these kinds of things?”

  “No, this is pretty much the furthest thing from what I do.”

  “What do you do?” It’s the girl in the front row again. She’s twirling her hair around her finger. “Tell us your life story.”

  Philip laughs nervously. “It’s not very interesting. I was in the military until two years ago. Now I own a small rock climbing gym here in the city with a couple of friends. I also do guided tours and train people for rock climbing, wilderness excursions, and white water rafting.”

  That explains the insane shape his body is in. He doesn’t have to take off his clothes for me to see that—though I can’t say that I would mind seeing that—just what we can see of his arms below his rolled up sleeves is enough to give us a picture.

  “How do you know Christa?”

  “She’s just a friend.” He smiles. “A very sick, desperate friend who had tried everyone else. Believe me I was her last choice.”

  A girl across the aisle raises her hand, and he points at her. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” she says, “but are you gay? I mean, how else would you know how to give a blowjob?”

  Every woman’s head whips towards him, and I’m gripped by a sudden irrational terror that he’s gay. Please, don’t let him be gay.

  Philip laughs. A deep laugh that pulls itself up from his stomach and seems to fill the room with joy. “That’s a fair point,” he says, “and arguably, a gay man probably would have been a better choice to teach you today. But no, I’m straight. The best I’ll be able to do is to tell you what I enjoy. No man is the same, but some of the tips I can give you are probably universal.”

  “Should we take notes?” Front-row-girl asks.

  Philip leans against the table again. “Only if you want to. Okay, let’s talk the very basics: position. There are lots of great positions for blowjobs, and they all have their benefits. There are probably as many positions as there are people, so I’ll only mention the ones I think are most common.” He turns to the easel, flipping past the penis diagram and a couple of notes. “Christa said she had some diagrams. Oh, here.” He flips the page and reveals an illustration of a two figures, one blue and one pink. The female figure is on her knees in front of the male figure—there’s no mistaking what she’s doing. I think of the last time I was in that position and cringe. I can see that this class is going to be an exercise in embarrassment. But then again, I already knocked over a shelf of fake dicks so there’s not too much lower I can go.

  “Having the male in a standing position is probably the most common. Guys like this because it gives us a great view of you, especially if you’re naked.” His eyes flick to me, and I feel an automatic blush rise in my cheeks. “This is a good position because really either party can be in control.”

  Philip flips the page, and the male figure is now seated, the female’s face
buried in his lap. “Male seated is great for relaxation. We love it because at heart, guys are all a bit lazy and this means we don’t have to do a damn thing.” He laughs a little, and the girls around me follow suit. He flips the page again, and there are two matching illustrations. The female figure laying down on a bed, one on her stomach and one on her back.

  “When a woman lays down for a blowjob it can be good for a lot of reasons, but this position also requires a lot more trust between partners because the man is clearly in control. But this is a good angle if your guy is looking to,” he clears his throat, “thrust deeper.”

  A hand shoots up, and he calls on the woman—an older brunette. “Which position is your favorite, and why?”

  He smiles, and for a fraction of a second I think I see some hesitation or discomfort. But then it’s gone and he’s all charm again. “Seated has always been my favorite,” he says, “but not because I’m lazy. In that position, the two people are closer to gather and there’s more physical contact. It’s always felt more intimate to me.” Then he chuckles, “That being said, the other two certainly have their place.”

  There’s a small silence, and Philip doesn’t seem to know where to go next. Front-row-brunette speaks up. “You said that you would tell us what you enjoy. So go ahead. Describe your perfect blowjob.”

  “If you think that would be helpful,” he says.

  “It really would be,” says the same woman who made the comment about his jeans. It’s going to be helpful for every woman who’s going to try to get in his pants, which at my last count is everyone.

  I feel like everyone in the room—except me—leans a little forward, eager to hear what’s next.