50 Euros? Was that right? He fumbled for the correct handbook. He was more of a pen and paper guy, which is why he didn’t have the handbooks on his phone. For him, printed hard copies were the way to go.   

Oh shit, this wasn’t the right one. This was the handbook for Trying to be Friends with Someone You Are Still in Love With. He’d been reading it from cover to cover, over and over, while killing time and drinking at Mata Hari earlier today. 

“Should you come back when you have your handbooks in order?” She had an Eastern European accent.  

“Just a second” OK, was this the book he was looking for?  

“I can save you the trouble. 50 Euros for a ten-minute of me using my hand. Another 300 for a full hour, and I'll be naked and you can go inside me.” 

“Yes, 300.”  

As she pulled her spandex uniform over her head and off, he read through the Fucking a Hooker handbook.  

If it is your team’s ball, you are most likely throwing in, so you want to call out your play and throw it through the 'tunnel'” 

Oh dammit, this was the Playing the Hooker Position in Rugby handbook.  

“So sorry, just a moment.” Ah, here it was.  

No kissing, of course, he already knew that. But also, no driving in and up to push into the clit. No nipple pinching or suckling. He kept pinching her nipples though, and she kept telling him to stop it.  

He thumbed through pages, trying to find out exactly what he could do. Jesus, why didn’t he read this before? Why was this even a good idea? Oh right, drinking and reading Trying to be Friends again and again.  

Dirty talk would have been OK, but he never acquired that handbook. Good God, so many rules. Basically, all he could do was straight in and out.  

50 minutes of his limpish, pseudo-hardness, just enough to go through the motions of fucking. It likely didn’t help that he’d been drinking, but he’d lost the Drinking Responsibly handbook a long time ago. 

They tried Missionary. They tried from behind.  She probably needed to revisit the Pretending I’m Really Enjoying this and It’s Hot for Your Benefit, When I Just Lost another Bit of My Soul handbook. He could tell. 

10 minutes left when they quit. And while they lay naked together, chatting, he thought he should read Disposing of that Emotional Corpse, yet again. This had not worked at all. Or maybe, he should order a copy of That Emotional Corpse is Getting Awfully Ripe, Time to Bury It and Move On.   

In an unguarded moment, she casually ran her fingers through his chest hair and mentioned that she’d wanted to go skydiving someday. Straight out of the Mayfly Moments of Happiness handbook.