As Dan watched his old friend Zane shovel another handful of nachos between his greasy lips, he couldn't help but reflect that his wife Claire was right: this was a friendship that he had outgrown.
Zane had felt fun in college. Despite his blunt, crude demeanor, he had a certain greasy charm, and he had always known where the best parties were and where to buy weed. But now Dan's life looked a lot different, and his values had changed, too. And Zane? Well, in some ways, he had been traveling the opposite direction from Dan.
Unlike Dan, who had gotten a job in city planning, Zane was... well, there was no delicate way to put it. He was a pornographer. Zane ran a website named "Freaks in the Sheets", which claimed to show how kinky and slutty average, normal women were underneath their innocent exteriors. Dan had guiltily checked it out once or twice and had been disgusted to see that Zane himself starred in many of the videos.
Dan wasn't sure why anyone would want to see porn starring Zane Kruger. He was a short, overweight man with frizzy blonde hair in a ratty ponytail and bulging eyes. Not that the women were anything to complain about. They tended to be some of the most gorgeous women Dan had ever seen... barring his wife Claire, of course.
It didn't make any sense. Zane tended to not only attract and date total smoke-shows, but he managed to talk most of them into appearing on his gross, misogynistic website. Who was the last girl he had been with? That curvy little redhead? Oh, right, her name had been...
"How is Marissa doing?" asked Dan curiously, his interest piqued. If this was the last time he met up with Zane, he might as well indulge his curiosity.
Zane raised an eyebrow and chuckled, saying through a mouthful of nachos, "She's good, dude. She's making money hand over fist from the videos we're shooting."
"So you guys are still dating?" asked Dan pointedly. It would be one of the longest relationships Zane had ever had if so. He tended to have a different hottie on his arm every week
"What? Oh... naw, we broke up. If I'm being honest, I only went out with her in the first place because I was scouting a redhead for the site." Zane shrugged his rounded shoulders nonchalantly, as if turning a veterinarian into a porn star was a common occurrence. And for him, oddly, it was.
Dan frowned. He had always skirted around this issue. It was a big part of their friendship; an elephant in the room. But right now, when he was considering cutting Zane off entirely, maybe it made sense to cut the bullshit. "Man, I don't know," said Dan with a twist of his lips, "It seems shady to push women to..."
Zane's cheerful expression faded into a cold, blank stare. "Don't go there, man. There's no pushing. No coercion. Girls don't film for my site unless they are completely, one hundred percent on board. You want me to put Marissa on the phone right now? She'll say the same thing."
"No... I was just saying..." blustered Dan awkwardly, suddenly wishing he hadn't opened this can of worms. He had never seen Zane upset like this. It was actually, strangely, a little intimidating.
Zane pushed his plate away and wiped a napkin over his greasy mouth. "Ask," he said in a flat, hard voice, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his gut. "Everybody asks in the end, although it took you longer than most. I don't mind talking about it. So ask."
Dan hesitated, licked his lips, then shrugged. He was curious, after all. "Ok, fine. How do you do it? How do you get such hot women when you...?"
He trailed off, but Zane finished his sentence. "When I look like shit?" He barked a harsh laugh, seemingly not offended in the slightest. "Because that doesn't matter. Let me let you in on a little secret, Danny boy." He leaned forward across the table, his eyes glowing with an internal light.
"All women are sluts deep down. I know that secret, and that's all it takes to be successful with women."
Dan scoffed a little laugh, but Zane's expression didn't change. He was dead serious. "What?" asked Dan, shaking his head. "You can't be fucking serious."
"Oh, but I am," said Zane solemnly. "It's hard-wired into the female brain. You know how you can't keep your eyes away when you see a big, bouncy pair of tits? That's male hard-wiring. Our primal instincts want us to find a good mommy for our kids. Young, fertile, and healthy. And women want a good daddy. They can't fight it. It's baked into their genetics."
Dan raised his eyebrows. What sort of ridiculous misogynistic shit was this? Was Zane playing some kind of joke? "So..." he said slowly, "You're saying women just start drooling when they see..." He gestured expressively at Zane's squat body.
Zane laughed again, taking a noisy slurping sip of beer. "You haven't seen what I'm packing under these shorts, hotshot. But more seriously, looks aren't that important for women's instincts. They want someone forceful. Confident. Dominant. That's what their subconscious screams is good daddy material. All of that nurturing and supportive crap is great, but those kinds of guys will always be around to help raise the alpha's kids later."
Dan frowned. This didn't feel funny anymore. The joke was getting old. "Come on man," he said, getting a little testy, "You can't believe that crap. Not all women are sluts. That's fucking ridiculous."
Zane shrugged with a slimy grin. "I've personally found no exceptions. The only reason that some women seem innocent is that they've never met an alpha who wants them. When they do, they all spread their legs."
"There are clearly some women who aren't sluts," said Dan, his voice rising a little as he got heated.
"Name one," Zane shot back, his voice still cool and hard. It seemed like Dan's insults hadn't been forgotten.
"Claire," said Dan with a smug grin, as if laying down a trump card. It was hard to imagine a woman who fit Zane's insane worldview less than his wife. She was powerful, driven, and a paragon of self-control. Dan watched Zane carefully, ready to accept his surrender in the argument.
Instead, Zane looked evasive, a sly grin spreading across his face. "No comment," he said with a little chuckle.
Dan's face grew red. He leaned across the table with a frown. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Zane shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, man! If she has tits and a pussy, she has the same instincts as any other woman. In the right circumstances, she would spread her legs like all the rest."
Dan's mind buzzed with rage, but he managed to control himself, taking a deep breath, leaning back, and stiffly saying, "You're delusional."
Zane's slimy grin grew wider. "Wanna bet?" He asked in a low, dangerous voice."I like those odds. I bet you I can prove your wife is a slut."
Dan was about to blow up. The idea was insulting. The offer was disgusting. The whole thing was sleazy and misogynistic in a way he never would have expected, even from Zane.
But then a thought crossed his mind. What better punishment could there be for this sexist prick than letting Claire cut him to ribbons? Claire was a knockout, and she was used to guys hitting on her. They were usually sorry they had afterward. It would be a deeply satisfying way to teach this little toad who Dan had once considered a friend that his worldview was stupid.
So, giving in to his anger and his desire to prove Zane wrong, Dan opened his mouth and asked, "What do I get when I win?"
Zane shook with laughter for a good minute, wiping a tear from his eye while Dan stewed. We'll see how much he's laughing once Claire tears him a new one, Dan thought sourly.
Finally, Zane shook his head and said. "How about this? If Claire is as virtuous and pure as you say, I'll fund that honeymoon you keep putting off. I'm swimming in dough, it'll be no problem for me."
Dan felt another spike of anger. It was a low blow. Although both of their careers were doing fine, he and Claire had mutually decided to put their money towards a nice house after getting married rather than an expensive honeymoon. They kept talking about having a honeymoon later, but at this point, it had been a few years since their wedding. "Fine," he said tersely. "And what do you want if you win? Not that you ever could."
Zane gave Dan a leering, lopsided grin. "Ohhh, I wouldn't worry about that, buddy. I get the feeling that the process of winning this bet will be its own reward. What's the time limit?"
"A month," said Dan distractedly, losing a little bit of his momentum. Zane was actually taking this seriously. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. He wasn't worried that Zane might succeed, but if Claire found out that he had put Zane up to this, Dan would be in serious trouble.
"Make it two," said Zane solidly. "Can't rush perfection." He wiped his hands on his pants and stood from the table, a strange, excited energy radiating off him, like he couldn't wait to get started. Dan felt a little disquieted at Zane's confidence. "I'll pick up the tab today, Danny," he said, patting Dan on the shoulder as he slouched toward the bar to pay.
"Hey," said Dan, licking his lips, "You're not going to tell Claire that we made this bet, right?"
Zane gave him a pitying look over his shoulder and snorted. "Of course fucking not. Why shoot myself in the foot? Don't worry, I won't tell her you put her in my hands. Your dirty little secret is safe with me."
A few short minutes later, Zane paid for the meal and left the bar and grill with a little mocking wave to Dan on his way out, leaving his former friend sitting stunned at their table, wondering what he was in for.
But he was worrying over nothing. Claire hated Zane. She had sent Dan here today with instructions to break off their friendship. There was no possible way that Zane's fucked-up sexist view of the world was correct in any way.
