“Dude,” Toby says, shaking his head in disbelief. “That was fucking insane.”

I laugh as I settle down in my desk chair, unknotting my tie and throwing it across my office to land on top of the pussy-juice stained jacket that’s hanging over the arm of my buttery leather couch. This office is a total man cave. I spend a shit ton of time here, so I made sure my interior designer made it comfortable. It’s all dark woods and leather, dark gray walls. I even have a huge, heavy wooden bar imported from Germany off to the side with the most expensive distillations of scotch available.

Kicking back in my chair, I prop my feet on the desk, crossing my feet at the ankles, and clasp my hands behind my head.

“Fuck yeah, it was. Best episode to date. I dare those fuckers to question my skills now.”

Toby pulls out a tablet and starts tapping away on the glass, no doubt ready to give me a breakdown of the show stats. We do this every night.

“Man, the viewers loved it,” Toby says. “Fucking amazing. More people tuned in for this than any episode ever according to our analysts.”

I arch an eyebrow at him and flash a smug grin. “Obviously. Did you have any doubt?”

“Obviously not since it was my fucking idea in the first place, asshole,” Toby laughs.

“You wish you were genius enough to think of showing me actually going down on the guest.” I love giving Toby a hard time. He reminds me a lot of a younger version of myself. He certainly doesn’t have any problem getting pussy on his own. He’s got enough of an ego to attempt giving me a run for my money with this show if we weren’t actually friends.

He just rolls his eyes. “Whatever, old man. Without me you’d still be fighting off the trolls on Twitter.”

“Fuck you,” I say with a laugh. “Old man, my left nut.” He’s, like, only five years younger than me. “You just stick around and maybe some of my skills will rub off on you.”

“Speaking of Twitter,” his eyes are back on the tablet, obviously seeing something interesting enough to tear him away from our favorite pastime of giving each other shit, “we’re trending.”

“As usual.”

“Yeah, but tonight it’s all about how the show put it all out there.” Toby frowns a little, and I take my feet off the desk and rest my elbows on it as I lean forward. “Everyone has something to say about how we got everything on camera.”

I shrug. I’m used to it, and I don’t care. The pearl clutchers are always gonna have something to say. Fuck ‘em.

Actually, that’s probably half their problem. They’ve never had a good hard fucking. I should take the high road and offer them an opportunity to come on my show. Maybe these prudes out there just need to know how fucking awesome sex is. I laugh out loud at the idea.

“Dude, seriously,” Toby says, cutting his eyes at me briefly before returning to scrolling through whatever shit Twitter is offering up about my tongue and I. “We’re probably going to get a fucking huge fine from the FCC.”

“Whatever,” I scoff. “I can afford it. Besides, there’s no such thing as bad publicity, right? All this is going to do is give us even more viewers because we’ve effectively shut down all the cynics.”

Toby looks at the tablet a few more seconds, then shuts it off and tosses it on my desk. “If you say so.” Then he gives me a taunting grin. “So, when are you going to step aside and hand over the reins of the show to the younger, more virile generation? And by that I mean me.”

As if I had any doubt who the fucker meant. “Whenever I get tired of women screaming my name, asshole.”

Toby guffaws and lifts his brows. “Maybe they’re just playing the part. Did you think about that? I mean, they're coming on live TV to have an orgasm. They could totally be faking it.”

“And that cum all over my face every single night? They’re faking that too?” I point my fingers at him like two guns and wink. “Think again. Those pussies gush all over me like a fucking geyser.”

“Fuck. You are one lucky Bastard, Jake.”

I am. Not gonna lie. I’m a fucking billionaire because I’m a master at making women come, and I have them lining up begging me to eat them out night after night. Doesn’t get much better than that. “Maybe one day you’ll reach my level, man,” I joke.

Toby and I go back years, and even though he works for me and we have a bit of a mentor/apprentice type relationship, he’s one of my closest friends. We give each other hell just for the fun of it.

“One day? How about right the fuck now? And let’s make it interesting. A grand says I can pick up any woman out tonight before you.”

I’ve never been able to resist a good bet. “You’re on. Loser not only pays up, but has to buy the beers as well.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Toby thrusts his hand out and we shake. "Hope you brought your credit card, bitch.”

I laugh as I stand from my desk and we make our way out of the studio. I may have just had the best show of the entire A Cunning Linguist run tonight, but I’m still dealing with a fucking chub and it’s past time to find someone and get it taken care of.