“Yeah. You’re saying I should imagine you naked? Oops. Too late. I just did.” His face turns bright red. “Confession time: that wasn’t the first time I’ve done that. Sorry.”
I laugh. “No, no, no. Don’t imagine the babe naked—you’ll get too flustered. Instead, just imagine your dick is so big, it drags on the ground.” I glance at Josh pointedly and he shoots me a naughty smile.
“Do you have any advice that’s a bit moreconcretethan that?” Henn asks. “Imagining my dick is dragging on the ground seems a bitesoteric.”
I laugh. “Okay, I’ve got a great rule of thumb for you,” I say. “Every time you open your mouth to talk to a woman you’re interested in—ababeyou wanna bag—ask yourself this question: ‘Is what I’m about to say more or less likely to get me a blowjob?’ If the answer is yes, then say it—but if the answer is no, then shut the fuck up.”
Josh bursts out laughing.
“Whoa,” Henn says.
“Words to live by,” Josh says. “Did one of your brothers come up with that little gem?”
“No. That’s all me.”
“Damn,” Josh says. “I think we just discovered who of the three of us is therealfucking genius.Damn.”
“If all men knew that one simple rule,” I continue, “the world would be a much happier place.”
“Fuck yeah,” Josh agrees. “For everyone.” He spreads his legs and reaches under the table, presumably adjusting his dick in his pants. “What other tips you got, Madame Professor? I must admit, I’m finding your lesson plan highly educational.”
“That’s it. I’m done talking. Now it’s time for Henny to learn throughdoing.Come on, Henny. Get up. It’s role-play time.”
Henn scowls at me.
“Oh, come on. This is for your own good. Try to pick me up, using all the advice I just gave you.”
Henn grimaces.
“Get up. Come on,” I say.
Henn begrudgingly stands.
“Okay. We’re in a bar. I’m a babe you’re interested in bagging.Go.”
“Bars aren’t really my thing, actually. I have a lot more success at places like, you know, Starbucks. Gimme a woman with a laptop in Starbucks, preferably a cute little brunette with glasses, and I’m Don Juan.”
“Okay. Fine. We’re in Starbucks. I’ve got a laptop.Go.”
“Brown hair and glasses?”
“You bet. Nowgo.”
“Well, is your laptop a Mac or a PC?”
I make a face. “Whichever. That’s not important.Go.”
“Notimportant? Are youmad?”
“Okay, fine.” I roll my eyes. “A Mac. Now,go.”
“Can you be more specific, please? What model? A Mac Book Pro? Or a Mac Book Air? And how many gigabytes of memory?”
“Holy Filibuster, Batman!” I shout.
Josh laughs.
“No more stalling, Henn,” I say. “Come on.Goooooooooo.”
