The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles

by Meghan Quinn

  “This is how I walk. Don’t you find it sexy?” She bit her bottom lip and shook her head at me, as if she was trying to be a tempting lioness; instead, it looked like she had an overbite and a spasm in her neck.

  How was I supposed to answer that question? Did I find her shuffling sexy? Well, did I want my penis ripped off in the middle of a work event, or did I want to lie to her so she could continue to shuffle and look weird? Hmm . . . protecting my penis or protecting her image.

  I liked my dick.

  “It’s just different, that’s all,” I answered, hiding the wince that wanted to cross my features.

  “That’s because I’m holding . . .”

  “Bro-logna sandwich,” Freddy said, interrupting Rosie as he slapped me on the back. “I didn’t know you were bringing the old ball and chain with you. You lucky dog.” He playfully punched my side, and in return, I refrained from punching him in the jugular.

  “Rosie, this is Freddy. Freddy, please don’t touch my girlfriend. Say hi with a wave.”

  “Henry,” Rosie scolded. I didn’t care. I didn’t want Freddy anywhere near Rosie. He was a giant creep, and I wouldn’t put it past him to “accidently” trip and wind up head first in Rosie’s cleavage.

  “He’s just playin’, babe,” Freddy said, grating on my nerves. This entire night was annoying me, and I was pretty sure it was because Rosie was looking fine as fuck and every man in the room knew it.

  Before I could stop him, Freddy grabbed hold of Rosie and pulled her into a hug. She awkwardly put her arms around him and gave him two pats on the back before backing away, legs still crossed.

  “Nice to meet you, Freddy. You must be Henry’s bro he’s always talking about.” The way she said bro didn’t escape me; she was making fun of him.

  Excitement passed through Freddy as he tipped my chin with his finger. “You’re talking about me at home, bro-tien shake? And here I thought you didn’t like me.”

  Rosie shook her head and interjected before I could answer. “Oh no, he talks about you all the time.”

  The devil himself resided in her compact body.

  “Bro Montana.” Freddy held his chest, touched by Rosie’s sentiment. Damn it all to hell. “We’re going to lunch together next week, especially after Eric names you—”

  “Whoa, did you step up your weight lifting routine?” I asked Freddy. I didn’t need Rosie finding out about the possible promotion right now, especially since something was going on with her legs.

  Beef cake himself flexed his muscles and said, “I did. Thanks for noticing. I started working with a new trainer who’s been working on my nutrition. We’ve been shredding, and I have to admit, it’s been tough, but it’s paying off. What I wouldn’t give for a crumb of bread right now.”

  “You’re not eating bread?” Rosie asked, looking a little too fascinated by Freddy’s muscles. I puffed my chest a bit and flexed my arms under my jacket.

  Yup, still had it. I wasn’t Gaston from Beauty and the Beast, standing width wise at barn height, but I was still chiseled.

  “No carbs whatsoever. It’s been torture, I’m not going to lie.” Freddy gripped my shoulder as he spoke. “Lunches have been hard because I really enjoy a good hoagie from the corner deli. I have a lot of muscles; I have to feed them, you know.”

  “You sure do.” Rosie continued to scan Freddy’s body, irking me with every pass she made. “You know, you would be a perfect cover model for books. Have you ever thought about taking your shirt off for the camera and flexing?”

  “Damn, I like your girl.” Freddy laughed. “I’ve never really thought about it. You think I could be a good cover model?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Rosie nodded, her finger in her mouth.

  I repeat, her FINGER in her mouth.

  “I’m in a bunch of book groups on Facebook, and when they’re not posting pictures of erect penises, they’re posting pictures of hot men. I think women would go crazy over you. I have some author friends who are always looking for the latest and greatest cover model. You could be him.”

  “I might have to take you up on that offer.” Freddy scooted closer to Rosie. “I could do some penis shots too; I have no shame.”

  “You should,” I said. Both Rosie and Freddy looked in my direction, and that was when I realized I’d said that out loud. To cover myself, I laughed and nudged Freddy’s shoulder. “Just bro-ing ’round with you.”

  It took Freddy a second, but then he joined with my laughter, and I exhaled in relief.

  “We’re always bro-ing,” he said to Rosie, still gripping my shoulder. “You should see us in the office. Like two peas in a pod.”

  “I can tell, the camaraderie between you two is uncanny.”

  “Okay.” I removed Freddy’s hand from my shoulder. “If you will excuse us, I’m going to take Rosie around. We’ll catch you later.”

  “You got it, Brodeo. I will catch you and the little babe-bino later.”

  Politely, I smiled and guided Rosie away from the douche-canoe and toward my campaign designs. “He was fun.” Mirth was prevalent in her voice.

  “Yeah, you’ll pay for that later. Now, you were saying something about why you’re walking strangely,” I whispered, holding her close to my side, so no one could hear our conversation.

  “Henry and Rosie, what a delight to see you both . . . together,” Tasha said, walking up to us, holding a glass of champagne in her hand and swaying a little too much.

  Please let her be drunk. Please let her be so drunk she head-plants into the fondue display and sprays chocolate all over her mock-ups.

  “Hey, Tasha. You remember Rosie?”

  A snarly dog was now holding my hand; Rosie’s lip curled in disgust, and she didn’t even bother saying hi. Tasha picked up on Rosie’s attitude.

  “Good to see you too, Rosie. Hey, I never got to apologize for when you walked in on Henry and me.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “You’re not talking about that because nothing happened, and don’t you even try to make it seem like something happened. Honestly, Tasha, neither of us want to talk to you, so take your bad wig and alcoholic beverage and go make an embarrassment of yourself somewhere else.”

  Tasha’s smile turned into a sneer, and she was about to say something most likely incredibly rude, when she saw someone from behind us approach. She straightened her posture and lowered her drink.

  “Darlene, Danielle, you look fantastic,” Tasha said.

  Carefully, I turned both myself and Rosie, so we opened up our little circle to let in Darlene, Danielle, Eric, and two executives from Legacy. I squeezed Rosie’s hand, trying to telepathically let her know these were important people.

  “Thank you, Tasha, you as well,” Darlene responded. “Henry, it’s good to see you. And who is this lovely lady standing next to you?”

  I cleared my throat and gazed at Rosie. “This is my beautiful girlfriend, Rosie Bloom. She works at Friendly Felines as a columnist and is also writing her first novel. She is an incredibly talented writer.”

  Rosie’s face went soft and her body relaxed. For the first time tonight, I felt the tension finally ease out of her muscles and let loose.

  “Yeah, and we all went to college together,” Tasha cut in, slapping Rosie on the back. The pat flew Rosie’s shoulders forward causing her to catch her balance with her foot.

  Clunk.

  The sound of metal hitting the hardwood floor echoed through our tiny circle. What the hell was that?

  Rosie stood ramrod straight next to me, a sense of dread consuming her as all of our heads looked down at the floor.

  On the ground between Rosie’s legs, were two gold marble-looking balls connected together by a string. As a collective, we bent to get a better look.The only one who wasn’t bending over was Rosie, who was frozen in place, in mid-handshake mode, a look of mortification plastered across her face.

  My heart beat at a rapid rate, my pulse picked up, and all I wanted to do was pull Rosie into a hug and shelter
her from whatever was about to happen. I didn’t care what people thought. All I cared about was protecting my girl. She was absolutely horrified, and no doubt so very embarrassed.

  “Oh dear,” Darlene said, getting a good look at the gold marbles. “Are those Ben Wa balls?”

  Jesus Christ.

  What the hell was Rosie thinking?

  Tasha, the bitch that she was, bent a little closer. “Yes, they are, in fact, Ben Wa balls.”

  “What are those?” Eric asked, not making the situation better.

  Rosie still stood frozen, while Tasha answered for her. “I’m glad you asked, Eric. Ben Wa balls are a popular kink toy made famous by Fifty Shades of Grey. They are used as a stimulator to flex and tighten the vaginal muscles, while also creating slight vibrations within your uterine walls . . . a little fun for the lady clenching to hold them in.”

  “Oh,” the group said together, looking at Rosie.

  Fuck.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Poor Rosie. Nervously she giggled and waved her little fingers at everyone. “A spicy life is a healthy life, am I right? Ladies have to make things tight so Legacy condoms don’t take away all the sensation from men.”

  Oh, shit . . .

  And then she attempted to backpedal. “I mean, because they’re so strong and durable. Nothing is getting through those suckers. Henry and I use them all the time, sometimes four times a day, and never once has his peen chafed. Double wrapping is child’s play when it comes to Legacy. Condoms rock.” She fist-pumped the air.

  Silence enveloped us and the need to bury my face in a punch bowl was overwhelming. And there it went. The promotion I’d worked my ass off for slowly slipped out of my grasp. Fuck.

  Not being able to handle awkward silences very well, Rosie continued, her balls still on the floor between her legs. She put her finger on her chin and looked at the ceiling while she spoke. “You know, now that I think about it, Legacy is a fantastic company when it comes to latex. We had a lot of sex when I first lost my virginity, and I can’t recall a time when I thought, ‘Ouch, my vagina hurts from so much rubber rubbing inside’.” As if a light bulb went off in her head, she said, “Oh, you should use that in your campaign. No raw vaginas here.”

  Fucking crickets.

  “Any who,” she sighed and put a hand on her hip. “I’m just going to grab my balls and mosey on over to the drink station. All this talking has made me parched. Can I get anyone a drink?”

  No one responded.

  “Okay, one sodie for me then. Check.” She drew a check mark in the air. “If anyone wants to borrow my balls, let me know.” She laughed awkwardly. “Just kidding, my friend Delaney said you don’t share vagina things.”

  With that, she bent forward and reached for her Ben Wa balls.

  Riiiiiip.

  Fuck. Again.

  Rosie was bent over, very still, holding her chest.

  “Oh dear, what was that?” Darlene asked.

  “Pretty sure it was Rosie,” Tasha said. And then laughed. The bitch.

  I didn’t know what to do, what to say. All that kept flying through my mind was giving Tasha a swift kick to the taco.

  Rosie raised her hand from her bent-over position. “It was me. Just a little party trick.” Slowly, she grabbed the balls by the string with her finger and then sprung upright, like the bend and snap movement from Legally Blonde.

  Nausea ran rampant through me . . . the sweats were consuming the back of my neck, and I felt physically incapable of helping my girl.

  The minute I took in the scene in front of me, I was pretty sure my eyes bulged out of their sockets.

  Standing tall with her arms bent, hands right next to armpits, T-Rex style, balls dangling, was Rosie with two sharp wires poking out of the front of her dress, like she had a triceratops trying to ram its way through her cleavage.

  “Is that . . . your underwire?” Danielle pointed at Rosie’s chest.

  “Surprise,” Rosie shouted, raising her arms above her head and lightly shimmying her chest at the group. “Anyone want to hang their coat?” To demonstrate what she was talking about, she placed the string connecting the balls on the exposed wire of her bra and smiled brightly. “The term ‘rack’ is quite literal in this situation, right?” She elbowed Tasha next to her, who stepped away, disgusted.

  “Rosie,” I said gently, wanting to shield her from all the judging eyes.

  “Tough crowd,” she huffed. “Well, this has been fun, but I just remembered I have to finish stuffing the giant papier-mâché penis at home. Don’t worry, I’ve got a mega pack of Legacy condoms going inside. Go, Legacy,” she said, with less gusto than before.

  Before I could grab her hand and walk her out the door, she sprinted through the party, balls flapping behind her, and straight into the elevator.

  I handed my drink to Eric to go after her when he gripped my shoulder to stop me. “I need to speak with you, now.”

  I didn’t like the tone of his voice at all.

  Fuck me.

  By the time I got home, the apartment was completely dark, Sir Licks-a-Lot was lying in one of Rosie’s bras, rubbing his face against the cup, and there was a human lump curled on one side of the bed.

  Rosie.

  I took off my jacket and placed it on the chair in our bedroom. I stared at her the entire time I took off my tie and my button-up shirt. I’d known Rosie for a long time, but not once had I ever experienced a night with her like the one we shared tonight.

  She’d been nervous, but Insulting the brand, and then exposing our sex life to a very inappropriate level wasn’t good. Now the most important people in charge of my job believed I was a sex fiend . . . who, thankfully, hadn’t made his girlfriend’s pussy raw, thanks to Legacy.

  Christ.

  I imagined no one privy to her display of golden balls and escaped underwire would sleep easily tonight. I gave the girl credit. She did put on a good show, mortifying, but good.

  The last thing I wanted to do was go into a conference room with Eric after she left. I wanted to chase after Rosie and tell her everything would be okay, that I wasn’t mad at her, and that I needed to know she wasn’t hurt. I knew she was embarrassed from the way her cheeks flamed with an adorable blush.

  But when Eric told me to meet him in the conference room, I knew I had one choice: I had to keep my job, especially since Rosie and I would be bringing a baby into the world.

  When I walked into the room, I’d thought fuck the director position. I only needed a steady paycheck. I would figure out everything else after that.

  When I arrived in the room and saw Eric and Darlene as well, I knew it was over. There was only so much you could do in front of clients, and your girlfriend dropping her vagina balls on the floor while insulting the product wasn’t something clients got over very quickly.

  The words still rang through my head as I brushed my teeth.

  “Henry, you’re going to have to pack up your cube.”

  My stomach dropped. I was going to hurl. Without even thinking, I stood up for Rosie, telling them she’d been having a hard time lately with working from home, feeling cooped up with a cat who wouldn’t stop licking his crotch. And I dropped the bomb on them—that she was expecting and she’d been a little hormonal—praying they’d take mercy on me. I begged them to reconsider, to think about my unborn child. Yup, I went there. I had no shame. I pulled a Rosie and had diarrhea of the mouth.

  It didn’t change their minds; they still told me to pack my cube.

  I nodded my head in defeat and started to walk away when Eric started laughing hysterically. His laugh would haunt me for days.

  He then told me I had to pack my cube because I was moving into a new office. The job was mine.

  Legacy wasn’t a company that based their decisions off the people they’d be working with; they based them off the product and who could sell it the best. Imagine that.

  They chose my campaign before Rosie even began her insanity for the night
. Afterward, I talked to the executives at Legacy, and they said if I could still produce a campaign like the one I offered while taking care of my rather crazy and pregnant girlfriend, they wanted me on their team.

  I had never felt more relieved in my entire life. I left that party feeling lighter, not just because Tasha was out of the picture—she’d work somewhere else because it was too beneath her to take my job, or report to me—but for the first time in a month, I felt relief for my future.

  I was going to be able to provide for my family.

  After I brushed my teeth, I slipped into bed and pressed my chest against Rosie’s back, wrapping my arm around her stomach and burying my head into her hair. I gently rubbed her belly, smiling to myself about the little life we’d created.

  First thing tomorrow, I’d call Derk. We were going ring shopping before his bachelor party. It was time to make Rosie mine forever.

  Despite her quirkiness, inability to stop talking, and aptitude for bringing on the worst scenarios imaginable, I couldn’t imagine my life without her. Her smile, those lips, her eyes, her genuine and innocent heart, her tenacity, and her beautiful soul. I not only wanted them to be a part of me, I needed them in my life to breathe. Rosie was everything to me; I would be damned if I took another breath in this life without her by my side.

  It was time I took my randy romance novelist and made her an engaged one.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Beat That Meat

  ROSIE

  Last night would go down in history as the worst night of my life. It beat kicking Atticus in the crotch, exposing my neon asshole on a bowling date, plastering my heel through squirrel tail’s penis picture, and even confessing my fake undying love to a man who made out with his dog.

  Nothing I did for the rest of my life would ever beat vagina balls falling out of me in front of Henry’s esteemed guests, only to be followed up by my decade-old bra popping through my dress for all to see.

  Any other normal person would have thought it was time to excuse yourself to the bathroom. No, not me. I liked to perform. I liked to hang coochey-covered marbles off my musty old bra as a party trick.