“I’m going to teach you how to fuck your husband.”
For some men, they might find Justice Drake’s job as the best job in the world. He caters to high profile clients most of the time and all he needs to teach them is s*x education. All the wives that are enrolled to his school are sent to an undisclosed location where they could have no contact with the outside world for six weeks. As brutal, as it may seem, it’s purely sex education without the practical examination. Justice, together with some experts in the arena, demonstrates and explains the basic necessities that are to be expected from wives. He believes that one of the main reasons why husbands wanders off is because wives doesn’t pleasure them enough.
Patience is key in my profession. Most days, I feel more like an overworked, underpaid daycare provider than a…lifestyle…coach. Same, same.
Justice started out as somewhat of an a**hollish person. He doesn’t sugar coat his words and most of the time it comes out as rude. He doesn’t consider how her clients might feel. He loves to make the squirm, embarrassed until they turn a beet red, he loves to make them speechless and sometimes lessens the self-esteem of his clients.
It's like that zombie romance movie, as ridiculous as it sounds. The more I hang around Allison, the more alive I feel. The dark coldness of my heart begins to heat and bloom into something vital, and for once, I feel…normal. Like somehow, I belong.
But there was someone among the participants who was brave enough to raise her opinions regarding his curriculum. Here comes Allison. The woman who was just a shell of what she usually was. Tainted by her experience with his husband, who chose to send her to study her sensuality, than fix their crashing marriage. Because of her tactlessness, she got her way into Drake’s conscience. And with the time they bonded together during the night, she managed to capture Drake’s interest. They didn’t know when, but somewhere along the way, they developed feelings towards one another.
I’m a lot of things– crass, stubborn, brutally honest, egotistical– but one thing I am not, is careless. I know my boundaries, and I never cross them. In a business where lines can be easily blurred, those boundaries are outlined in black Sharpie, traced in gasoline, then set the fuck on fire, ensuring that no one even gets close enough to inhale the fumes of temptation.
Yet, here I am, touching, tempting, testing the limits. Begging to get burned by an angel with a halo of fire.
But then, Drake knows something that might destroy how she will perceive him and this might break the precious thing that’s happening between them. Though he wanted to reveal his real identity to her, he knows it will destroy her. He never expected to fall for someone like her. He avoided to initiate or encourage any relationship between him and a client, but Ally is different. He felt alive again after a long time. How could he possibly give her up? He knows what her husband is doing behind her back. He’s capable of giving her more. But would she possibly choose him? Evan has everything. And even though, he wanted to believe that she also has feelings for him, he is not quite sure if her feelings for her are stronger that what she feels for Evan.
I want to breathe. I want to inhale her in every way possible. I want her life to sustain me, her heartbeat to synchronize with mine.
But I don’t want to taint her. I don’t want her to be like me. A cheater. A deviant. An outcast. She deserves better, and I’m not better. Not better than what she already has, which is Evan.
I really feel Justice. He masks his vulnerability behind his crude reputation. He is still that humiliated kid who was kicked out of his house and his school, because he was a bastard. He is still that uncertain kid who was not accepted in the society. And all that he did during his self-exile was a way to rebel against the rules of society.
“UNLESS HE’S COMPLETELY desperate or under the influence, a man can’t—and won’t—fuck what doesn’t get him hard.”
Listen up, ladies. We’re fucking tired! You try going jackrabbit-style, throw in some Cirque du Soleil moves and see if you can keep your eyelids peeled. Us passing out after sex is a compliment—a testament to how good it was. And quite frankly, if your dude can hop out of the sack and go to work or run a marathon, then he still has energy left for sex. He’s just done having sex with you.
“THERE’S ONE THING that a man wants you to stroke more than his cock: his ego. Throw in the money and power, and you’ve got a Hulk-size ego that needs to be fed around the clock.”
“Men are like children. They constantly need positive reinforcement. And if they don’t get that, they settle for negative reinforcement.”
Life is just a series of choices. We try to always make the best ones, but really we’re just settling for the lesser of two evils. Or at least trying to.
"So...if you had to give up one, would you rather sacrifice your sight or your hearing?" She asks, going in for more.
"That's an easy one. Hearing. I'd definitely give up my hearing if I had to."
"Explain your case, sir."
"Well, for one, you can still communicate even if you're deaf. You can sign or read lips. And let's face it—we live in the age of excessive technology. I could just text or Instagram you."
"Yeah, but you'd never hear music. You'd never get to hear a child's laughter or the sound of someone saying, "I love you." You'd miss out on so much."
I look at her, seeing her. Trying to make her see me. "But to not be able to see a pink sunset fade to purple or a million stars in the sky, stretching to eternity...you can't manufacture that. Technology can't create a smile so bright that it makes you smile even when you don't want to. It can't manipulate true beauty. It can try, but it'll never duplicate that exact shade of red, fiery hair. Or the pattern of cinnamon freckles on your nose. Or even the way your eyes change from blue to green like a mood ring. You can't forge what has been perfectly designed. That kind of beauty doesn't require sound or words or even music. It doesn't need anything else. Anything more and it would overwhelm you."
“Meh. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty good. But sex is just… I don’t know. Just sex. I get why people enjoy it so much, but I just don’t understand why we give it so much power. It’s a physical act of love or affection, not love or affection itself. Relationships are about so much more than sex. It’s about trust, loyalty, honesty, kindness, respect—all things that don’t require a woman to spread her legs.”
“I agree that all of those elements are necessary and required in a relationship, but to be honest, it all leads to sex. You see, we’re sweet and funny and kind because we want sex. We sit through chick flicks, the theater and ballet because we want sex. We wait patiently as you try 83 variations of a black peep-toe pump because we want sex…while you wear the shoes.
“Think of it this way: trust, honesty, respect…all those things are like the playoffs during football season. You need to play them. They’re necessary to get you to where you want to be—the Super Bowl. Sex is the Super Bowl, Ally. And while those playoff games may have gotten you there, they really can’t win the game for you. No one says, “They played great in that game a few weeks ago, so it’s ok that they’re losing now.” It’s how you play the game that day that matters. That’s the only thing people care about.”
You’re worth it. I’ll gladly stay broken for you.
Quirky Phoebe is comforting Ross, telling him to hang in there because no matter what, Rachel is his lobster. And once lobsters meet and fall in love, they mate for life. They always find each other. And sooner or later, Rachel and Ross will be together.
Labels: Book Review, S.L. Jennings