Dean is a lost and broken boy, balanced on the edge of madness. He wants one last crazy adventure before he turns himself in to go to prison.
Lorelei is the beautiful college coed from his past. Trying to break away from Dean, she goes on a normal date with normal Jack—and Dean kidnaps them both into a road trip from hell.
The violence and fear are what Lorelei can’t confess she needs. Dean raises the stakes and coerces her into selling herself for gas money at a bus station. Can she come to terms with the kind of girl she wants to be? Will normal Jack accept her for what she is?
Is Dean’s scary madness a tender-hearted ploy to propel Lorelei and Jack into each other’s arms, before he leaves her forever?
The Full Girlfriend Experience is a tense, erotic romantic short story about desperation. It contains themes of dubious consent, prostitution, public sex, and sex with strangers, and is not intended for readers under eighteen.
The road trip starts out full of menace…
Dean’s mood was only slightly improved by the time we rolled up to Jack’s dormitory.
Jack was pacing the sidewalk. He rushed over when he saw me through the passenger window.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“Don’t talk to Lorelei when I can’t hear,” Dean said. “If you whisper to her again, I’m putting a bullet through her brain. And then yours.”
“Don’t mind Dean,” I said quickly, trying to smile. “You don’t have to come, Jack. I know it’s last-minute. I’ll talk to Dr. Redwhiler and explain that something came up. You should stay.”
“I think I should come.”
“No,” I said, holding my smile. “You stay. For reals. I will call you in a few days. I know I will.”
Dean started snapping his fingers. Oh crap.
“Like my dress?” I asked quickly, for something to say.
Dean slapped the dash and we all jumped. “Is everybody fucking with me today? Because it’s the wrong fucking day to fuck with me.”
Jack gave me some kind of look and slid into the back seat.
“Jack,” Dean said quietly, “some people are on a schedule.”
“Yes, Dean,” Jack said. His face was gray.
“For this last adventure,” Dean said, “we’re going on the road. Get it? On The Road. I’m Dean, that’s Jack. Lorelei, you’re Marylou.”
I’d read that book for a class last semester. I’d been curious because I knew it was Dean’s favorite, and I thought I could get a glimpse into his pathology. I couldn’t. It was all aimless wandering and misogyny.
“Marylou, you whore,” Dean said. He laughed.
Our white ’88 Chevy Cavalier screeched out of the parking lot, out of Indiana State, and into the endless fucking fields where Dean could do anything he wanted.