Lip Service (Pleasure Chest 1)

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.