A phone call between Jonas Faraday and Henn from Henn’s POV.

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Henn

It’s a Sunday afternoon. Hannah’s out with Maddy for the day, while I’m sitting at our kitchen table working on a job for a regular client. When my phone on the table buzzes, I glance at my screen, expecting to ignore the call and let it go to voicemail. There are only a few people in this world I’d stop working for when I’m in the zone, and, to my surprise, this particular caller is one ‘em. It’s Jonas Faraday calling me. That dude never calls me. In fact, he rarely even makes a peep in the group chat we have with Hannah, Sarah, Josh, and Kat. My interest soundly piqued, I quickly connect the call. 

“Hey, Jonas.”

“I need you to find someone for me as soon as possible.” 

Ha. That’s so Jonas. No greeting. No pleasantries. Straight to the point. Clearly, he’s in the midst of some sort of fixation, which is so on-brand, I can’t help chuckling. “Why, hello, Jonas,” I say pleasantly. “I’m doing great. Thanks for asking. How are you?”

“It’s this guy on YouTube,” he says. Plainly, he’s a man on a mission. “I’ll send you the link. His video is pay-per-view, but I’ll buy it for you.” 

“A pay-per-view video?” There’s really no point in trying to make Jonas Faraday act like a normal human. Only Sarah knows how to do that. Sometimes, Josh. But mostly, Sarah. So, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right? “Is this video porn, by any chance?” It’s a joke, of course. Jonas has talked my ear off several times about the modern plague of easy-to-access porn—the fact that easy porn has turned an entire generation of men into lazy lovers who don’t understand what actually turns women on and who can’t get it up without digital stimulation.

“I emailed you the link,” Jonas says, not bothering to acknowledge my joke. “Watch the video and find me the guy. I need to talk to him.” I’m well aware Jonas can be obsessive at times, so his tone doesn’t surprise me. Clearly, he’s a dog with a bone.

“Hang on,” I say. “Let me open your email.” I click the link, and to my shock, the name of the video is “How to Make a Woman Squirt Every Single Time.” “Holy shit!” I choke out. “I was joking about the video being porn.”

“Can you find him for me?”

“I can do anything. I’m a fucking genius. Hang on.” I press play on the video and an average-looking dude—a guy who basically looks like me—appears as the host of the “how to” squirting video. 

“Hey, guys,” our host says. “Do you want to make your woman squirt? Do you want to do it every single time, like clockwork? Well, through years of practice and experimentation, I’ve figured out a method for making any woman squirt, every time, without fail . . .”

“This guy is showing his face, Jonas. Dig around a little bit, and I’m sure you’ll find him without me.”

“I don’t have time to hunt this guy down and figure this shit out. I’d rather pay you to do it for me.”

“Well, I’m not going to take your money to find him. I should be paying you for buying me this video. You’ve made my day.” I snicker. “And Hannah’s night.” 

I return to the video, where an extremely attractive woman is now walking into frame and standing next to our host. “Oh, hello,” I murmur, as our video host introduces her as Carla. “You want me to find this woman, too?” 

“Of course, not,” Jonas snaps. “Just the guy.”

“Just wondering.”

As the woman begins undressing onscreen, Jonas says, “I’ll never ask you to find me another girl as long as I live, Henn. I’m married.”

“Well, obviously, Jonas. I was only asking because I thought maybe this is a business matter for you. Maybe these two embezzled funds from one of your companies, for all I know. How was I supposed to know you’re asking me to hunt down a squirt-master for personal reasons?”

“I need this guy’s phone number. I want to ask him a few questions.”

“So do I. Damn.” The woman is naked now, and the dude is kissing her while both are seated on the edge of a bed. Is he priming her for the Big Squirt? I sure hope so.

“Just find him for me,” Jonas murmurs.

“Only if you pass along anything really good you find out.”

“Deal.”

“Damn. I feel like such a pimp right now.” I continue watching the video for half a minute. He’s stopped kissing naked Carla now. He’s sliding his hand between her legs. “So, how’s—” I’m intending to ask Jonas about Sarah and their twin preemies. But I stop talking when, all of a sudden, so much cum shoots out of the naked woman on my screen, it’s like she’s a broken fire hydrant. “Whoa! Carla just blew her load all over the bed! Now that’s what I call entertainment. Hot diggity damn.”

Jonas can’t help chuckling with me. “So, you’re on it?” 

It takes me a second to reorient myself, but I quickly surmise he’s asking if I’m down to find the squirt master for him. “Like purple on Barney. This is definitely a white-hat job. Absolutely free of charge.”

“Thanks.”

“Is this a thanks-for-having-my-babies surprise for Sarah? Most guys give their woman jewelry for that occasion, but Jonas Faraday makes his wife squirt.”

“Most guys give their wife jewelry after she gives birth?”

Aw, poor Jonas. As Josh always says, he’s the dumbest genius who ever lived. “Yeah, from what I’ve seen.” Granted, I’ve only ever personally observed the jewelry-for-a-baby phenomenon twice: when Josh showered Kat with jewels after she gave birth to Gracie and Ryan gave his wife diamond earrings after the birth of their son, Zachary. But I have to believe they’re not the only husbands who’ve given their wives jewels to celebrate a birth. If Hannah and I are lucky enough to get pregnant one day—we’ve certainly been working hard at it—then I’ll one hundred percent give Hannah some sort of jewelry to commemorate the occasion. 

Jonas is silent on the other end of the line, so I pipe in to narrate what I’m seeing on my screen, where the first woman has left and a second one arrived. “Ooh. Enter woman number two.” 

“Okay, thanks,” Jonas mumbles. “Gotta go.”

Ha. If I know Jonas, he’s freaking out about my jewelry comment. Maybe even planning to hang up and dart out of his house to remedy his oversight.

“Hang on,” I say. “How are Sarah and the babies doing?”

“Good. Sarah’s still not feeling great, but—”

“But she’s about to start feeling a whole lot better! Ka-bam!” I’m referring to the squirting video, of course. Making one hell of a funny joke, if you ask me. But Jonas isn’t laughing.

“Shut the fuck up, Henn,” Jonas says. Thankfully, there’s no venom in his tone. Only playfulness. “You’re talking about my wife.”

“Sorry.”

Jonas joins me in chuckling. “It’d be hard to get pissed at a comment like that when we’re watching a squirting video together.”

“True. So, how are the babies?”

“The girls are great. They should be coming home in about three weeks. They have to get to the point where their lungs are fully developed. Pretty normal with preemies, I guess.”

Hannah and I saw the teeny-tiny twins in the NICU in Seattle about three weeks ago, right after they were born. There were some complications—some really scary days for poor Jonas and Sarah—so Hannah and I quickly hopped a flight to be there for our friends. For Josh and Kat, too, given how distraught and worried they both were. Ultimately, mother and babies were fine, thank God, so Hannah and I returned home. But not before holding those tiny twins in the NICU and marveling at their miniscule body parts. 

“Send me a pic,” I say.

“Hang on.” 

As I await Jonas’s photo, I return to the video on my laptop, where our host has his hand inside the second woman. “Whoa! Woman number two just wet the bed!” I announce gleefully. “Oh my God. This is my favorite thing.”

Ping. 

“Just sent you a pic.”

I look down to find two tiny, adorable humans staring at me. “Aw, they’re so cute. They’ve filled out a ton since I saw them. They look like actual humans now instead of raisins. I can’t wait to see them again. Hannah and I are planning to come to Seattle when Josh and Kat have baby number two.”

“Did you hear it’s a boy?” Jonas says. 

“Yeah. They FaceTimed Hannah and me with the news. Kat was freaking out about having a penis inside her at all times, and Josh was like, ‘What’s new about that?’”

We both crack up as a third woman appears on-screen.

“Oh, here we goooo!” I bellow. “Woman number three, step right up.”

“You and Hannah should stay here when you come to Seattle.”

“Cool. I’ll tell Hannah to calendar it—right after I make her squirt.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m hanging up. Sarah will be home soon.”

“And you’ve got some more porn to watch?” 

“Nah, I’ve got actual work to do. I’m a respectable member of society, if you haven’t heard.”

“I read that article about you guys in whatever magazine. The one about Peru? So impressive. You looked like Thor. I told Josh they made you look way cooler than him and he almost punched me in the face.”

“Poor Josh. He’s so used to Kat lying to him about his good looks. He’s not equipped to handle the truth.”

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

“Please do.”

We share another chuckle. 

“Talk to you later,” Jonas says. “Thanks for the favor.”

“You’re not going to ask me if I’ve got any news about The Club before we hang up?” Every time we talk, Jonas asks me if I’m one hundred percent positive the fire we put out together in Vegas is one hundred percent ice-cold, or if there could possibly be any embers among the ashes. 

“Do you?”

“Nope. Nothing at all. I’m just shocked you didn’t ask me about it. I think that’s what the psychologists call progress.” 

“You’ll tell me if something comes up, right?”

“Indubitably.”

“Then, I trust you.”

Well, that’s new. Is our beloved master of obsession turning over a new leaf? “Cool,” I say. “Talk to you soon, Jonas.”

“Talk to you later, Henn.” 

“Happy squirt-questing!” I call out.

“You, too.”

“Oh, Jonas? Get Sarah a whole mess of diamonds. She’s been through a lot.”

“I’ll do exactly that. Thanks for looking out.”

“You bet, brother.”

We say our goodbyes, and the minute we hang up, I cue up the squirting video and watch the entire thing again. And then a third time to make sure I didn’t miss a single detail of the guy’s instructions. I’ve already read the amazing book Jonas gave me years ago, as well as a couple videos suggested by Reed. And it goes without saying I’ve watched all Keane’s “Ball Peen Hammer” videos, too, the ones he used to make with “Maddy Behind the Camera.” Of course, I paid closest attention to Keane’s video about “The Sure Thing”—the technique Ryan told me and others about in Maui, years ago. But it seems like this squirt-master’s technique is something slightly different than all the rest. Even if it’s not, it’s awfully hard to beat a video featuring a dude actually performing the technique before my eyes, as opposed to me simply reading about it or watching Keane talk about it. To be fair, Keane’s a million times more entertaining than this milk-toast dude. There’s no contest there. But, still, I’m grateful for the step-by-step instructions, coupled with visual demonstration.

For a while now, I’ve been looking for something new to shake things up in the bedroom with Hannah. Specifically, something to get her mind off the baby-making aspect of our lovemaking. In the very beginning, when we first decided we felt ready to try for a baby, we simply started having unprotected sex. “Let’s not do all that counting and tracking,” Hannah suggested. “Let’s simply have fun and let fate decide.” Of course, I agreed. 

But at some point, it seemed like “fate” was either permanently out to lunch or had affirmatively decided a baby wasn’t in our future. Hannah became visibly frustrated, and I had to admit I was feeling at a loss myself. When we finally went to a doctor to find out if either or both of us had some kind of issue, we both got clean bills of health. “All pipes are in perfect working order for both of you,” the doc said. “It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen. Just keep having fun and remain relaxed about it.” 

Easier said than done. 

We’re still thoroughly enjoying our sex life, of course. How could we not? I’m totally obsessed with Hannah, and she continues to find me barely tolerable. But even so, there’s no denying we’re at the point now where we both really want a baby. And I can’t help wondering, after every time we have sex, if a piece of Hannah is wondering, “Did that time do the trick?” If I’m being completely honest, that’s what I’m usually wondering afterwards, too. So, maybe, this new squirting technique will be just the thing to get our minds off all that stuff and help both of us have nothing but fun again—this time, on Hannah’s extra-extra-wet Slip ‘n’ Slide.