Page 61 of Misadventures of a Biker

“An impromptu thing. Say, if the guy was driving down the street and you felt like it was a perfect time to jack him off. What then?”

“We keep it in our purse,” she replied, as if it were common knowledge.

Once again, it appeared I was the idiot. “You keep jack-off juice in your purse?”

She nodded. “We carry lotion with us in case we’re challenged by a nonbeliever to stroke him to climactic bliss.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” she said with a nod. “We’re inundated with requests to jack guys off. We need lotion to minimize friction and guarantee success. Until now, it’s been a well-kept secret. You figured us out.”

I had no idea if she was serious or joking. She looked serious.

“Seriously?”

“It’s a huge conspiracy,” she admitted. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think I’m supposed to let you know these types of things. It goes against girl code.”

I knew women were sneaky bitches, but I had no idea they’d banded together to develop a recipe of success for jacking men off. I wondered what else I needed to prepare for.

“What other tricks do you sneaky fuckers have up your sleeves?” I asked.

She took a few steps away from the desk. “I probably shouldn’t say.”

“We’re best friends,” I pleaded. “C’mon.”

She looked me over as if sizing me up for a suit. “Well, since we’re besties.” She glanced over each shoulder. Upon realizing there was no one within earshot, she came closer. “If you ever do anything stupid like stay out late with your friends and get shitfaced, and you want a quick way to be forgiven? All you’ve got to do is go downtown. But it’s got to be a solo effort. No reciprocal action.”

“You mean…” I stuck my tongue between the V of my outstretched index and middle finger. “This?”

“You guessed it.”

“Solo effort, huh?”

She nodded. “All will be forgiven.”

“What else?”

“Every chance you get, walk around the house shirtless. It stimulates our sexual senses.”

“That’s an easy one,” I said. “Keep ’em coming.”

“No matter how cool you think it would be or how much you might think she’d like it, never ask for a three-way. It’s the kiss of death to any relationship.”

“I’d never ask anyone to—”

“Just making sure.”

“What else?”

“No matter what the food we cook tastes like, tell us you love it. Rave about it. Compare it to a recent fine-dining experience. It’s a surefire way to get post-meal sex.”

“Anything else?”

She smirked. “I think that’s it for now.”

“What?” I asked. “There’s something you don’t want to tell me.”

“Well…” She gave me a quick once-over. “No. Forget it.”