Page 54 of Exrated
“Do not fuck the porn star!”
“What the hell, Heather. I’m not.”
She’s rubbing her eyes again. “You want to...”
“No…” I say, tossing my purse on the floor. “I don’t.” I just lied because I do, I so do, and I fucking hate it. The thing is, yes, I’m smarter than that. He fucks women for money. It’s gross if you really, really think about it—but then if you don’t really, really think about it, if I didn’t know him—it would be just a little hot.
“Well, I’d want to fuck him…” She stands up and stretches. “I think this is a terrible, horrible, no good idea.”
“Of course you do.”
“I do.” She stumbles toward the hall. “You loved him—”
“Loved!” I stress. “LOVED him. Past tense. Not present tense.”
Heather snorts. “Um-hmm. Loved him. Fucked him. What the hell ever, Jemma. I know more about him than I do that guy you dated for a year… hell…” she tosses her hands in the air. “What was his name? Dale or some shit?”
I shake my head. “Try Tristan.”
“Fuck.” Her eyes narrow. “Really, Tristin? That sounds like something my mee-maw would call her one-eyed Pomeranian—anyway, I know more about Tyler than I do that fuckface. You cannot be friends with an ex. An ex that does porn. An ex that you watch fuck other girls. An ex that tongue fucks a pussy like Captain Ahab trying to spear Moby-fucking-dick.”
I glare at her. “I hate you right now.”
She steps close to me and glares. “You smell like a guy.”
“I rode home with him. In a cab.”
“Road head?”
“What the—no. I did not give him road head in the back of a fucking cab so the grungy looking cabbie can jerk one off while driving down the road.”
She laughs. “That would make a good porn. Suggest that to your boss and see if you can get a royalty cut.”
“Oh, God. Maybe you should go into directing porn.”
“Maybe.” She laughs. “Where did you guys go anyway?”
“To a bar.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrows her eyes. “To a bar?”
“Yeah, with some people from work. It’s not a big deal.”
“Jemma, I’m just saying, this is bad. Like super bad. You are gonna get hurt.” I walk to the hallway, and she follows me. “Hurt I say. I love you. I don’t want you hurt because then I’ll kill a motherfucker and orange is not the new black on this ass.”
“I appreciate that, Heather.” Smiling, I open the door to my room. “But I’m not gonna fuck him. There is no way I would have sex with a porn star. Really.”
“Well, like I said, just be careful.” She flicks my hair behind my shoulder. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I won’t.”
She stumbles down the hall to her room. I shut my door, pull my clothes off, and lie down on the bed. I’m tired as shit, but I can’t go to sleep because I can still smell Dolce and Gabbana. No matter how hard I try to think about anything else, all I can think about is him…and me. And how things used to be.
After trying to shove him out of my thoughts for half an hour, my mind falls to the gutter. I sit up, grab my laptop, place it on my lap, and type in Johnny Depth in the search bar. Why? Because I can’t get him out of my head and this is going to be my life for a while, so I may as well get used to it. I’m training myself to have no reaction the next time I watch him fuck the shit out of some blonde with big boobs.
I click on one of the website links and swallow. There is a still frame of Tyler fisting his cock. My heart bangs against my ribs. I have that feeling I’m doing something dirty, and I guess I kind of am, I mean it is porn of my ex. Shaking my head, I click play.
Tyler is sitting behind a desk, shuffling through papers. The door swings open and a girl dressed in a Catholic school girl outfit saunters over to him.
