How about we go to my
place? It’s just around the corner.”
Ah, thanks—but no thanks. Redhead has quickly become a fading memory. My sights are set on
better, more intriguing prospects. I’m about to tell her so when another redhead appears beside her.
“This is my sister, Mandy. I told her all about you. She thought the three of us could…you
know…have a good time.”
I turn my gaze on Redhead’s sister—her twin, actually. And just like that, my plans change. I
know, I know…I said I don’t ride the same coaster twice. But twin coasters?
Let me tell you, no man would pass up a ride like that.
I feel her hips push forward against mine.
And any blood left in my body descends, making me harder than I’ve ever been in my life.
Weeks of want and frustration are coursing through me. I’ve brushed with Colgate for far too
long—and it’s tasted like shit.
Billy, honey, could you get me another drink from the bar? I’m almost done with this one.” Kate
pulls on his arm, cutting off what I’m sure would have been a brilliant retort.
Are you feeling the sarcasm?
We ordered food a few hours ago and worked through dinner. I had pasta with chicken, while
Kate preferred a turkey club with fries on the side. Much as I hate to admit it, I’m impressed.
Obviously, she doesn’t subscribe to the “I can only eat salads in front of the opposite sex” rule of
thumb a lot of chicks swear by. Who gave women that idea? Like a guy’s going to say to his friend,
“Dude, she was one fugly chick, but once I saw her chomping that romaine, I just had to nail her.
Fine’s a funny word, don’t you think? I don’t think there’s another like it in the English language
that says so much while actually saying so little. How many wives have told their husbands, “I’m
fine,” when they really mean, “I want to cut your balls off with a butcher knife”? How many men have
told their girlfriends, “You look fine,” when they really mean, “You need to go back to the gym and
work out—a lot.” It’s the universal way of saying we’re just peachy—when we’re really anything
but.
All kidding aside, this is a new beginning for Kate and me. A fresh start. I’ll be a perfect
gentleman. Scout’s honor.
Then again, I never was a Boy Scout.
Though things between him and me had been tense for a few days,
they’d quickly gone back to normal. He never can stay pissed at me for long.
Look at this face. Could you?
God! Oh God!”
I smile as I pick up the pace, “God’s not the one fucking you, baby.
Tag: freakinghilarious straightohell
THE RIDE TO MY APARTMENT is an exercise in stunt driving. Trying desperately to keep my mouth on
Kate and not get us killed. She sits on my lap straddling my waist, kissing my neck, tonguing my ear—
driving me out of my frigging mind. I’ve got one hand on the steering wheel and the other wedged
between us, gliding over her stomach, her neck, and those perfect breasts that tease me through her
half-open shirt.
Do not try this at home, kids.
Whoever invented the
front-clasp bra? God bless you.
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