The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles

by Meghan Quinn

  “So you’re not a tease?”

  “Why would you think that?” I asked, actually surprised he would consider me a tease.

  He shrugged while he typed into my phone. “You have this whole pinup girl vibe going on. I thought you might be playing with me.”

  Pinup girl? It took everything in me not to snort in laughter. Yes, I had a retro style, but I wasn’t a pinup girl. At least I didn’t think I was.

  “You’ve got that wrong.” I handed him his phone back. “I’m the furthest thing from a pinup girl.”

  “You sure as hell don’t look like it. You’re sexy, Rosie. You have some amazing curves, and your eyes . . . I can’t stop looking at them.”

  Okay, so I knew a clam from a mile away—I wasn’t that dense when it came to men—but right now, looking into Lance’s eyes, he spoke sincerely and it actually blew me away. I wasn’t an ugly, rabid beast by any means, but I wasn’t supermodel perfect, which I suspected was the kind of woman Lance dated.

  But I wasn’t going to overthink it. If he thought I was pretty, I was going to accept the compliment because hell, I was. Just because I didn’t get much male attention—since I was always the friend, never the lover—I was going to soak up this moment. It was time I started appreciating my curvy body, my muted brown hair, and my unorthodox style. If I wanted to get some love, then I needed to love myself first.

  “Thank you.” I accepted his compliment, feeling good about myself. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday?”

  He nodded while giving me a devilish look. “Do you like bowling, Rosie?”

  “Sure, but I’m not very good at it.”

  “You don’t need to be. A group of my friends go cosmic bowling on Saturday nights. I know what you’re thinking—total teenage hangout, right? But I promise, you’ll have a good time.”

  A good time and opportunity to spend more time with the opposite sex, sounded like a keen idea.

  “I’m in. Should I wear white?”

  “Ah, a girl after my own heart. Yes, wear white. I’ll text you the details.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you then, Lance.”

  “Bye, Rosie.” He smiled as I walked away. Even though I thought I might possibly break something from not really knowing what I was doing when it came to flirting, I put an extra sway in my hips, hoping I didn’t trip and fall over all the cables in the room.

  I rushed back to the office, making sure to ignore Jenny’s text messages that were begging for details. I wanted nothing more than to talk to her face to face, because she would never believe what I had to tell her.

  When I got to my office, Sir Licks-a-Lot was sitting in my chair, cleaning his paw and looking less-than thrilled that I showed up. Pesky ingrate.

  “Get out of here,” I said, waving my purse in front of him. Instead of moving from the oh-so scary purse wave, he sighed and licked his other paw.

  “Pssssst,” I hissed, trying to get him to move. That made him to stretch and then scratch my white leather chair.

  “Stop,” I cried as I pounced at him. Like a ninja, he jumped up, launched off my head, and flew to the top of my filing cabinet where he perched himself and sneered at me, as if I was a mere peasant, disturbing his excellence’s private time.

  “Don’t you have better things to do then hide out in my office? Maybe go torment someone else,” I said while I dropped my things and sat in my chair. I shook my mouse and woke up my computer, and when I went to type in my password, I noticed the B on my keyboard was missing. This cat. He is such rancid rodent.

  And then it clued it on me . . .

  Holy crap, he really was trying to spell, “Die, bitch, die.”

  Growing angry, I turned toward him and right there, sitting on my filing cabinet was Sir Licks-a-Lot with the B in his mouth and a look of satisfaction in his beady eyes.

  “You son of a bitch.” I got up, but I was too slow. He jumped off the filing cabinet, bounced off my chest, and ran out the door. The force of his weight against me had me flying backward into my chair that careened into the bookcase behind me. From the sheer feline force propelling off me, a couple of books tumbled from the shelf onto my lap as well as . . .

  “What the hell is that?” I screeched as I lifted up a dry, grey ball.

  The minute I saw a tiny eye peek out from the ratted fur, I screamed and tossed it clear across my room where Sir Licks-a-Lot popped out of nowhere, caught the ball in his mouth, and ran off without missing a beat.

  Was that a mouse?

  Oh sweet Jesus where was my hand sanitizer? Reaching into my desk, I found my bottle and started bathing in it.

  “That cat be crazy,” Jenny said in my doorway as she watched Sir Licks-a-Lot jumping off other humans, like we were his own personal trampolines.

  “I hate that cat. He hid a mouse in my bookshelf. A dead mouse, Jenny.”

  “Hey, he must like you. He hid a pigeon’s wing in the boss’s office a month ago, and we know how well they get along. Look at that, he feels safe in your office.”

  “No, he’s just messing with me, I know it. And he took my B.”

  Jenny peeked over my desk and looked at my keyboard. “Yea, maybe he really is plotting your death. Hard to tell with that one, but enough about the demon cat, tell me all about Lance.”

  I finished up dousing myself in hand sanitizer and took a deep breath. Focus on the good.

  “Well, he asked me out on a date.”

  Jenny slammed her hands on the desk and looked me dead in the eyes. “No, he did not.”

  Nodding, I replied, “He did. We have a date on Saturday.”

  “Holy shit! Oh my God, I’m so jealous. You know how hot he is, right?”

  “Jenny, I have eyes. I can see.”

  “Just making sure. Oh my God, I can’t believe this.” She ran her hands through her hair in disbelief. “You have to have sex with him.”

  “What?” I asked, blushing to my toes. The only people who knew I was a virgin were Delaney and Henry, so for Jenny to say such a thing left me mortified. “I’m not going to have sex with him, Jenny.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  I was about to open my mouth, when I realized I didn’t have an answer. Why the hell not? Maybe because he didn’t look like the kind of guy who wanted to have a fumbling girl trying to undo the button to his jeans and then just stare at his penis, wondering what she was supposed to do next.

  “Um, I don’t like to jump into things so fast.”

  “Oh, who cares about that? You’re going out with Lance McCarthy, so you need to give it up.”

  “Maybe,” I said, not really meaning it.

  “Hey, what about Atticus?” Jenny asked.

  “What about him? I still plan on going out with him on Friday.

  “Oh, I like this new side of you, Rosie.” She smiled. “I’m glad you’re putting your Kindle aside for a little bit and going on a couple of dates. I’m proud of you. Do you need me to take you shopping?”

  “No, I’m good,” I replied, realizing that maybe I did spend too much time reading if even Jenny had noticed. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that notion was crazy. I didn’t spend too much time reading, as there was no such thing. I just needed to make more time for a social life, that’s all.

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Date night.”

  “Woo hoo.” I cheered with her, feeling a little anxious but excited in general.

  When I got home that night, I was walking up the stairs to my apartment when I ran into an impeccably dressed and divine-smelling Henry. He really set the standard for men. Just from the sight of him, Delaney’s comments about Henry wanting to have sex with me came to the forefront of my mind, making my entire body heat up. Damn her.

  “Hey love.” He greeted me with that charming smirk of his.

  “Hey Henry. Date?” I asked, trying to forget the sexual thoughts running through my mind. If only Henry didn’t look at me as if I was the only girl he wanted to talk to. It was no wonder
he scored so well. When he spoke to someone, he gave them his complete focus.

  “Yup, a blonde I met on the subway.” He acted as if it was no big deal.

  “Picking girls up on public transportation is kind of below you, Henry.”

  Smirking, he leaned over and said, “Not when her tits are hanging out for the world to see.”

  “Ugh, Henry.”

  “What? You know I like a good rack and can’t help myself when I see one.”

  “You could try. What if she’s a psycho killer?”

  “She’s not, I already googled her after she told me her whole name. She works for a fashion company in Soho. She has that whole bohemian style and doesn’t mind showing off her assets.” He wiggled his eyebrows while tickling my side.

  “Stop.” I laughed, pulling away. “Please excuse me, I need to pick out some outfits for the two dates I have coming up.”

  “Two dates?” His eyebrows shot up.

  “Yes, I have swing dancing tomorrow and bowling on Saturday with a guy I met today.”

  “Bowling? Uh, that’s lame.”

  “No, it’s cute,” I said, lifting my chin.

  “Okay, but you’ll be giving me his information before you take off. I don’t trust any man who takes a girl bowling on the first date.”

  “You’re so weird.” I chuckled. I was about to take off when I stopped myself and pressed my hand against Henry’s chest to stop him. My earlier conversation with Jenny pashed through my mind. “Henry, what does a guy like when it comes to a blow job?”

  “What?” He shook his head. Yep, he hadn’t seen that coming

  “A blow job, what do you like?”

  Clearing his throat and shifting in place he said, “Rosie, this is not a conversation to have in a stairwell. I would rather show you in the privacy of our own home where I can teach you.”

  “If you’re talking about me practicing on you, you can think again.”

  “It’s education.” He laughed while lacing my hand with his. Always a flirt.

  “I’m serious, Henry.”

  Running his hand through his hair, he looked at his watch, contemplated for a second and then guided me upstairs.

  “I have ten minutes, so sit down and be quiet,” he said as he forced me on the couch and went to the kitchen. When he returned, he had a banana in his hand and a concerned look on his face.

  He sat next to me and held out the banana, but I didn’t pay attention to that. Instead, I studied the crease in his brow.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, rubbing out the crease with my fingers.

  “I don’t like this.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “You. Blow jobs. I don’t want you to be handing out blow jobs. I know I’ve been teasing you a lot lately, but this seems so real. I don’t like it.”

  “So you’re saying I shouldn’t be giving guys blow jobs?”

  “Guys? Rosie, please tell me you aren’t about to hand these out as a parting gift after each of your dates.”

  I sat back and studied Henry closer. “I don’t get you. One minute you’re encouraging me, helping me learn about sex, and the next you’re attempting to restrict what I’m allowed to do. I don’t think you have that right.”

  “You’re right.” He shook his head. “It’s just getting real now. I like you all innocent.”

  “You’re holding a banana in your hand and about to tell me about the art of a blow job, I would hardly call that real.”

  “True.” He chuckled and then took a deep breath. “All right, hold this and pretend it’s a dick.”

  “Are they really this big?” I asked looking at the banana and feeling intimidated.

  “Yes, Rosie, when erect, the penis can be that big and sometimes even bigger.”

  “Dear God, where do you guys stuff them?”

  “We just tape them down to our legs.”

  “Seriously?” I asked as my gaze swung up to his.

  “No! Jesus, let’s just get this over with. There are three basic things a guy wants in a blow job. Number one—”

  “Wait, let me get a notebook so I can write this down.”

  “No, you’re not writing this down, Jesus. Just pay attention. Be in the moment, Rosie.”

  “Fine.”

  I looked at the dick . . . well, banana and studied it while Henry spoke.

  “Number one, flick your tongue on the underside of his cock. It’s so fucking sensitive under there, and you will have him ready in seconds.”

  “Got it, underside of cock.”

  “Two, play with his balls, the head of his cock, and perineum.”

  “Perineum?”

  “Yes, it’s the spot right behind his nut sac. I’m telling you, a guy will scream like a girl if you do it right.”

  “Okay, backdoor ball sac. Got it.”

  He chuckled while shaking his head. “Finally, give him a hummer.”

  “What’s a hummer?” I asked while looking at the banana.

  “A hummer is when you have his cock in your mouth and you hum lightly. The vibrations will jolt all the way to his balls, and it will cause an amazing sensation to stir inside of him.”

  “Interesting. Should I hum show tunes?” I teased.

  “Not recommended. Whatever you do, apply pressure, use your hands and mouth at the same time, and just go for it, but for the love of God, do not use your teeth. Even if magazines say guys like a little graze of the teeth, they’re lying. Anytime a girl busts out her chompers, I instantly panic that she’s going to bite down on me. I just can’t handle the unknown like that, so keep them tucked like a granny.”

  “Granny, check,” I said while tucking my teeth under my lips.

  “Perfect.” He smiled softly and then looked at his watch. “Shit, I have to go. Practice on the banana, especially the no-teeth thing. Have fun.”

  “Thanks, Henry.”

  “Anything for you, love, but just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “Promise.”

  He placed both of his hands on my face and studied my eyes for just a brief moment before he kissed my forehead ever so softly. When he pulled away, he smiled lightly, as if he wanted to say something, but then shook his head and took off.

  Weird.

  Once he was gone, I went back to my room and stared at the banana while trying to gain the courage to give a blow job to a phallic-shaped fruit. Instead of wrapping my mouth around it, I wrapped my hand around it and started moving it up and down in a steady rhythm.

  “Oh yea, you like that, banana? Are you going to turn into banana pudding soon? You going to lose your peel?”

  “There is something seriously wrong with you,” Delaney said as I was mid-stroke.

  “Shut my door,” I called out while I tossed the molested banana to the side. Damn roommates.

  I pulled out my notebook and started making notes for the day.

  June 4, 2018

  Flick, granny teeth, backdoor balls, and hum your life away—the keys to the perfect blow job. Men like to be hummed to when getting blow jobs. Interesting. Was it some kind of lullaby for their penis? I would want to see the scientific research on that.

  And who decided that playing with a man’s pern-en-whoozy-whatty was something that would make him explode faster? I need to google what that is and where it is, because I was a little confused on the placement of that little hidden orgasm button.

  I can understand the granny teeth thing. I doubt a ravenous woman showing her dick-eating fangs is very comforting to a man. I could imagine the libido factor dropping down a few notches after seeing fresh teeth waiting to take in the man’s most sensitive member.

  Flicking your tongue. How do you flick a tongue? As I sit here and write, I’m practicing the flick motion, and I’m wondering how effective it really is on a man. After grabbing my banana and flicking my tongue across it, I can see the aPEEL. God, I’m so funny.

  After my blow job crash course, I feel like I can tackle the world, one penis a
t a time … hopefully.

  Chapter Six

  The Smoking Vaginator

  “Are you ready?” Delaney asked, as she was perched on my bed with her hands under her chin and her feet in the air.

  No, I thought to myself as I stared in the mirror. I’m not even feeling close to ready . . . mentally.

  I was wearing a polka-dot dress that came to my knees and a pair of red heels. My lipstick matched my shoes, and my hair was up in a ponytail with a big pinned curl in the front, held tall with a decent amount of hairspray. To top the outfit, I placed a red flower in my hair with some bobby pins to make sure it stayed tight. I was ready, at least appearance wise. My heart on the other hand was beating drastically against my chest.

  “More ready than I’ll ever be.”

  “Well, you look fantastic, seriously, Rosie, I’m stunned.”

  “Thanks, Delaney. You sure my boobs aren’t showing too much?”

  “No, they look great, and your waist looks impossibly tiny in that dress.”

  Surprising, since I wasn’t as small as Delaney by any means.

  “Thanks. Where’s Henry? I thought he was going to be here.”

  “No clue. I sent him a text but he never responded.”

  “All right, well, I don’t want to be late. Thanks for all the help, Delaney. I really appreciate it.”

  “Anything for my girl. Go have fun and don’t think about the whole sex part of the night. Just relax, enjoy the company and if he kisses you, he kisses you.”

  I nodded and then looked around my room. “Do you see my mini bottle of baby powder?”

  “What do you need that for?” she asked as she looked around with me. “Here it is.”

  “Thanks.” I stuffed it in my purse. “Ever since that wax, I’ve been really itchy and the baby powder helps. I don’t think I will ever get waxed again.”

  “You just had a bad reaction, no big deal.”

  “It’s a big deal when all I want to do is spread my legs and act like a damn ape scratching his balls on a hot day.”

  “Do apes do that?” she asked with a quizzical eyebrow.

  “In my head they do. Okay, got to go.” I leaned over and gave Delaney a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll text you later.”