by Cora Kenborn
However, Zep had other ideas. Gripping my thighs, he pulled out and drove inside me so hard my back slid across my desk and my spine bowed off the end.
“You really want to go?” he growled, shifting his hips in a circle until I whimpered.
“Well,” I gasped, fighting for air while hanging upside down. “They are waiting for us.”
His answer was a series of rhythmic thrusts, the hungry look on his face sending me over the edge. Grinding harder against him, I wrapped my legs around his waist as we simultaneously moaned.
“Fuck, I love what pregnancy has done to you,” he groaned biting my nipple through the thin fabric of my dress.
He wasn’t alone. Sex had always been enjoyable, but ever since those two pink lines appeared, his cock had become my favorite ride at the amusement park. And I had an unlimited wrist band.
With a lot of grunting and wheezing, because, let’s face it, these days I moved like a drunk hiker with their gear on backward, I wiggled out from beneath him. I tried to flip him over all sexy-like, but with all the exertion from just getting off the desk, I was gasping like a fat-kid chasing the ice cream truck.
Oh, shit. Now, I want ice cream.
No! Sex. I wanted sex. I wanted a dick. Hard dick was better than soft serve.
Right?
Right.
“Addie?”
“Hmmm?” Shit. How long did I zone out? Somehow, Zep shifted onto his back while I fantasized about molesting the Good Humor man.
“You all right? You look confused, and to be honest, you’re kind of drooling.”
Dick. Yes, definitely dick.
“No, I’m fine. I just thought maybe switching positions would alleviate your worries.”
Wow. I totally pulled that out of my ass.
Go, Addie!
With a killer sex kitten look, I climbed on top of him and slowly lowered myself onto his length. Glancing over my shoulder, I bit my lip and winked. “What was it you said about reverse cowgirl causing all this?”
Grabbing hold of each ass cheek, Zep grinned and gave a sharp upward thrust. “Giddy-up.”
54
Potty Pong
Adelaide
New Orleans, Louisiana
I’d reapplied my makeup as best I could in Zep’s truck, but my hair looked like I’d spent about thirty days in a Malaysian jungle, naked wrestling wild animals. Walking around to my side of the truck, he helped me out and squeezed my hand, his clear blue eyes, shining in anticipation.
“Are you ready for this?”
“Am I ready to find out what this little one is? Absolutely.” My head bobbled on my shoulders with unrestrained certainty. “Am I ready to face God knows what my sister has concocted in there? Hell no.” Zep just laughed as I smoothed my wrinkled dress and tried to tuck my hair behind my ears. “How do I look?” I asked, turning to face him.
“Freshly fucked.”
The proud smirk on his face almost did me in.
“You’re supposed to make me feel better, not make me feel like a hooker walking into a confessional!” I blurted out.
What? Who the hell just said that?
I used to be calm and level-headed. Pregnancy stole my brain and replaced it with a vapid hole that had caused a full-on meltdown at The Piggly Wiggly two days ago when I tried to swipe a twenty-dollar bill through the credit card reader, and it wouldn’t work.
Zep just chuckled in his calm, easy-going way that made me want to murder him. “What did you want me to do…lie?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, fine. You look like you just shot out of a unicorn’s glitter coated asshole. Better?”
I was in a state of personal panic, and he was making jokes.
I stared at him without blinking. “Holy shit, I procreated with you.”
“It’s like your own personal slice of heaven, isn’t it, Snow White?” he said, tipping my chin up with the crook of his finger.
Before I could think of a sarcastic response, the door to the bar jerked open and one extremely pissed off looking Savannah Dubois stood there tapping her wedged heel.
“You’re late,” she hissed, her hands on her hips. “Are ya’ll just gonna stand there all day doing whatever it is that ya’ll do, or do you plan on joining the party that I’ve slaved over for weeks?”
“We’re coming,” I assured her, stomping past Zep. The minute I entered the bar, I came to a complete stop, my black flats sticking to the wooden plank floor.
Oh. My. God.
I had no idea what Savannah originally had planned for the community center, but it looked like pink and blue got drunk, swirled around in someone’s stomach on three-dollar taco night, then threw up all over the walls of Kiki’s.
Pink, blue, dark yellow, brown, red, lime green, and some orangy-tangerine color streamers I couldn’t readily identify, hung from the walls, held up by huge pieces of masking tape and a prayer. Gold helium balloons filled the corner right beside what appeared to be a beer pong table with toddler potties set up on each end. Afraid to look, but too mesmerized not to, I swung my gaze to the far wall and gasped to find a life-sized poster of a detailed uterus and fallopian tubes with little squiggly white things stuck to the wall beside it.
“What the hell is that?” I wheezed.
Savannah tilted her head as if she didn’t understand the question. “It’s pin the sperm on the uterus. What the fuck do you think it is?”
I pointed a shaking finger back to the table. “And that?”
She raised her eyebrows and huffed. “Potty pong.”
“Of course, it is.”
“But I have to warn you, Ads, I’d advise playing against Babs. She’s already kicked everyone’s ass here.”
“Everyone?” Apparently, the taco puke streamers and bachelor party games had rendered me to one and two-word responses. Maybe it was all my brain could handle before it finally short-circuited and dropped dead in front of the giant wall vagina.
“Hell, sis, we may live in New Orleans now, but you know Dubois never turn down a party!” Grabbing me by the shoulders, she turned me halfway around as at least forty people cheered and hollered. It shocked me to see that Mrs. Pope had come, along with her daughter Katherine. As always, Pope had sidled up to Savannah’s side with a protective arm draped around her waist. Half the NOPD had shown up along with all of the DuBlanc employees, Zep’s mom, Michael, and Cole.
I could’ve sworn the entire Dubois clan had made the trip from Terrebonne Parish, complete with Babs, Bam-Bam, a few cousins I hadn’t seen since we’d moved and—
“Mama? Daddy?” Rushing across the room into their waiting arms, they both enveloped me into a two-armed bear hug that immediately brought tears to my eyes.
“Now, come on, baby girl,” my father beamed, wiping away the mascara infused tears gathered under my eyes. “This is our first grandchild. Do you really think your Mama and I would miss this for the world?”
I hadn’t realized Zep had moved behind me until Mama reached out with her other arm and pulled him into our love fest. The genuine grin on his face sank my heart for being so absorbed in my ruined ideal shower that I’d excluded him.
“Zep, Robert and I want you to know just how over the moon we are to welcome you into the family.” The pride slipped from Mama’s face for a brief moment. “My husband and I tried to stay out of Addie’s life and her choices, but now that things have happened the way they have, we’re thrilled that you’re our grandbaby’s daddy instead of…well, instead of that—”
“Cocksipper,” Babs finished as she wobbled sideways up to our group, reeking of vodka and BenGay.
“Mother!” Bowing his head, my father covered his eyes and sighed.
“What?” Babs stammered, lifting a baby bottle full of clear liquid and sucking hard on the nipple. “The man is cocksipper. I say from day I meet him at wedding.” Pointing an arthritic finger at my mother she shook it in her face. “Remember, I tell you, Marianne? I say this fatherfucker is cocksipper with
little tiny penis. He will hurt my Addie, and he will pay with life.”
My father rubbed his temple and ruffled what little hair he had left. “Mother, what have I told you about making death threats in public?”
“Bah,” she scoffed, throwing a dismissive hand at him. “Only go to jail if get caught.”
“Can we stop talking about the asshole who isn’t having a baby with my sister?” Savannah broke in, diffusing the tension and redirecting everyone’s attention. “How about we play some games?”
“Ya ya!” Babs held up her plastic baby bottle like a trophy. “We play baby bottle game again.”
“Hell, no!” Liv LeBlanc, Zep’s mom, weaved her way around from the back of the bar, her black short-shorts and Kiki’s emblem hot pink t-shirt defying her age at least a decade. The woman looked good, and I hoped those genes were dominate. “Babs, those bottles were filled with beer, and the point of the game was to see who could suck them down the fastest. It wasn’t to dump it out and refill it with vodka then gnaw the nipple hole open until you could chug it, you crazy ass woman.”
“I still win.”
“You still owe me for half a bottle of Stoli too.”
“Put on my tab.”
“Woman, you won’t live long enough to pay your tab.”
I watched the exchange with morbid fascination. Liv was a master when it came to Babs and probably the only person besides my Pappy who could go around and around with her until she either held her own or got her way. She was a tiny thing but could intimidate the fuck out of someone. She was going to be one hell of a grandmother.
“Okay.” Savannah clapped her hands together and gestured toward the grotesque giant vagina hanging on the wall. “Let’s get this shower party happening! Welcome everyone to Addie and Zep’s baby gender reveal!” She paused for a round of whooping and hollering and a few shouts of ‘bring on the goods,’ before she quieted everyone down. “So, who’s ready to play Pin the Sperm on The Uterus?”
The amount of enthusiasm in the room had my chin dropping to the floor as grown men and women alike flew out of their chairs and raced each other to the wall to grab a paper sperm. The worst part? My own father and the father of my child were the first in line.
As the attendees of my baby shower took turns blindfolding themselves and impregnating a gigantic uterus with cross-eyed sperm, I collapsed into a nearby chair. With a hand on my belly, I started to relax, enjoying the tiny kicks I’d been feeling when a familiar voice crawled up behind me.
“How’re my sloppy seconds?” I didn’t have to look around, but once I did I’d know the bleached blonde hair, tanned skin, and overinflated boobs anywhere.
“Excuse me?”
Josie Gereaux. Son of a bitch.
“I mean, don’t worry, Adelaide, it is New Orleans, not Los Angeles. You can hide extra weight under leggings and loose-fitting tops.”
This bitch.
“You do realize that I had him first. As in thirteen years ago, right Miss Gereaux? So, if you want to get technical about it, you fucked my leftovers. How does that feel?”
Chew on that, you serial dick sucker.
“How’s that divorce going, Mrs. Bordeaux? Married and having another man’s love child? How scandalous, sweetheart.”
“Wow. Are you acting like a bitch because your tampon got stuck again? I wouldn’t have known because your forehead doesn’t move. You might wanna lay off the botox, sweetheart.”
“I’m with Cole now,” she said with a haughty smirk. “I have no need for a broke fisherman. You can have Zep LeBlanc. Cole is a high-powered investment banker, so if it’s all the same to you, keep your wide-open vagina away from this one, all right?”
“Bitch, I don’t want your boyfriend. That’s why he’s with you.” The rest of my rant was cut off as something slammed hard against the wooden planks, and I glanced down to watch a set of dentures skid across the dusty floor and land against Josie’s black high heel.
“Ew, oh my God, what the hell is—” Josie’s face froze in horror as Babs spit right against the toe of her other shoe, coating the tip in phlegm.
“Listen to me, cuntcobbler, you open legs for every man, all you get is cold vagina. Is like we say in Mother Russia, when you lie with dog, you have to make soup.”
I assumed she meant cuntcake, but, hey, cuntcobbler was sloppier. It fit, so who was I to correct her?
The injected lines in Josie’s forehead wrinkled for the first time…in well, ever. “What the hell does that even mean? And why did you spit on me? That’s so gross.”
“Because you just made her fucked list.” Crossing my arms over my belly, I smiled. “And she means that when you’re a raging bitch, you have to swim in the liquid shit you’ve created.”
Holy fuck. When did I start understanding Babs’ words of wisdom? Worse than that, when the hell did I start translating it to the outside world?
“You two are insane.” Shaking off her shoe, Josie stomped off; I assumed to find Cole.
Once she’d left, Babs bent over and picked up her teeth. Tipping over the baby bottle of vodka, she rinsed them off, gave them a good shake and snapped them back in her mouth while wagging a finger at my swollen belly. “Is good thing.”
“What?”
“Having baby make Kasekov blood in veins strong. Don’t fight it, child. Kasekov women make good mother. Keep family together and tough. You and bearded clam digger make old lady remember young Babs and Pappy.”
Smiling, I tried as best I could to hold in an impending breakdown as I saw a tear swim in my stoic grandmother’s eye when she talked about Pappy. Unfortunately, the moment was broken as she let out a snort and reached in her stop-sign red purse, pulling out a tube of half used BenGay and handing it to me.
“What’s this?”
“Put on, milochka. You smell like sex and shame. Perfume make woman smell like fruity whore who have sex.” Shaking the tube in the air, she grinned as her dentures slipped a little, popping off the right side of her gums. With a click of her tongue, she snapped them back in place and dropped the tube in my hand. “BenGay keep woman secrets.”
“But, Babs,” I argued. “You need this for your arthritis.”
A wicked smile split her lips. “What arthritis?”
Oh my God.
Fuck me for being pregnant, because I needed a drink to bleach the image of my grandmother having sex from my brain. No scratch that. I needed a lobotomy.
Before I could contemplate the better alternative, a god-awful squeal tore across the room. Yelping like his ass was on fire, Kevin Junior Bacon Cheeseburger hopped off the potty pong table, flew across the planks, and all but jumped into Savannah’s arms.
In less than a few strides, my sister stood in front of our cousin, slapping the shit out of him. “Bam-Bam, Jesus Christ, you cannot use a stapler to put a fucking diaper on Kevin Bacon!”
“What happened?” I asked, realizing the ginormous vagina game had ended during my verbal bitch slap with Josie.
“Oh, nothing. We were playing a diapering game with the guys, and your cousin decided that regular Pampers were too fucking simple to use and needed reinforcing with a goddamn stapler! He tried to make pork cutlets out of my baby!”
Pope tried to calm her down by stroking her hair. “Come on, babe, he didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“He’s bleeding, Pope. He needs stitches or surgery.”
“I ain’t mean no harm, Sav,” Bam insisted, holding his palms up. “I thought diapers had space steel inside ‘em. Isn’t that why babies don’t piss through ‘em?”
Holding in a laugh, Pope dabbed his pinkie on Kevin’s belly. Holding it up to Savannah’s face he showed her a dot barely the size of the head of a pin. “Babe, it doesn’t even need a Band-Aid. Look, it’s stopped bleeding. Kevin is fine. He doesn’t need surgery.”
Zep appeared behind me and wrapped his hands around my belly protectively. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. These games have been fun, Sav, thank you for all you’ve done,
but I gotta admit, I’ve been dying since we got here. Can we find out what we’re having now?”
Oh, for the love of God, yes!
I’d been like a kid who’d been given her Christmas present but told she couldn’t open it until New Years. Plus, the fact that Savannah knew and I didn’t almost drove me to the breaking point.
“Right this way, ladies and gentlemen!” Dramatic as always, my sister led us all to the corner where the gold helium balloons stood at attention, mocking me. Standing beside them, she swept an arm out like Vanna White and motioned to them. “Inside these gold balloons are either pink confetti or blue confetti. I’m going to hand you guys pins, and you pop them at the same time. The confetti will fall out, and we will all find out if it’s a boy or girl!”
I had to hand it to her—it was pretty ingenious. The excitement and nerves started to build as she handed Zep and me two long knitting needles which I assumed she swiped from Babs’ stash. I’d never heard Kiki’s as quiet as it was as Zep and I walked up to the balloons, needles in hand, both of our hearts pounding.
“You ready?” he whispered.
“Yeah. You?”
“So damn ready. Do you care which one it is?” He raised an eyebrow as if nervous I could be disappointed. It was cute.
“Not in the least.” I didn’t care. Honestly. I just wanted to know.
“Fuck, we’re all ready. Pop the damn balloon, will ya?” Savannah yelled, giving me a slap on the ass.
I glanced at Zep. “One!”
“Two!” He squeezed my hand.
“Three!” Once the word left both of our mouths, we stabbed two different balloons, holding our breath as confetti burst out, coating the table and the floor.
Zep shuffled back a step or two. “What the fuck?”
Our big moment had become one big flop of epic proportions. Everyone’s stare was fixated to the purple, gold, and green metallic confetti that littered everything around us. Not one pink or blue flake was to be found.
“Sav?” I searched her face for an answer. Any answer. It felt like an eternity until she said something, her open-mouthed shocked expression, saying most of it for her.
