by Misha Bell
Before I decide, I check my lady parts to make sure the irritation from the waxing is gone.
Yep. I’m smooth.
In fact, I really like this look. It’s like a clean-shaven guy versus a scruffy one. I think I’ll keep everything neat and tidy like this going forward. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before—I might need to thank Gia, after all.
In any case, the best part is that the lady wank is on. And I might as well use Optimus Prime, for novelty and all that. Also, since Alex touched the dildo today, by dodgy transitive property, it’ll be as if he’ll be touching my bits.
And just like that, I’m as ready as can be.
I wash and sterilize the dildo—because restaurant cooties—and turn it on.
Wow. The vibration is strong. Twice the power of my toothbrush, and that thing packs major hertz.
Deciding to touch it to my clit before attempting any penetration, I bring it into position.
Blimey.
I come in a fraction of a millisecond.
Things must’ve been pent up in there.
Should I go on?
No. Feeling sleepy now, must take advantage.
Turning off the dildo, I hug it to my chest, the way I do with the plush toy of Optimus Prime.
Sleep comes instantly, but I dream of cerulean eyes and inappropriate behavior all night long.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I’m all nerves as I step into the meeting room at the hospital the next day.
Wow.
Alex is clean-shaven again and is wearing a suit—just like the day we kissed.
Focus. VR pet project. Not here to lust.
I manage to sit my horny ass down and reply to the preliminary niceties.
When the talk of weather and such is done, Alex starts his presentation—and I want to kick myself for not masturbating a lot more the day prior. I’m as randy as I’ve ever been, and that’s not a state I want to be in during such an important meeting.
“This is great,” Dr. Piper says when Alex is done. “I’m glad we went down this path. Now VR therapy will be even more comprehensive.”
I want to jump up and down. My dream took a little detour, but it seems to be back on track.
The rest of the meeting is spent on Q&A. When we adjourn, Dr. Piper asks Alex to stay back to discuss 1000 Devils’ business.
As I exit the room, Alex sneaks a wink at me—which is like an injection of aphrodisiac right into my clit.
This is ridiculous. And the worst part is that I have no idea if I should wait for him. We didn’t come together, which implies I shouldn’t. We’re also pretending not to work at the same company—another reason I shouldn’t.
But it’s a friendly thing to do, isn’t it? Or is that my hormones talking?
Whatever. Since I’m here, I might as well visit Jacob.
I buy a candy bar for Jacob and a tea for myself, then make my way to the pediatric long-term care wing.
To my relief, no clowns lurk in my path. However, when I get to Jacob’s room, he has a VR headset on—must be using VR pet therapy as we speak.
I should leave him to it.
Just as I start to turn, he takes his headset off, spots me, and shines that boyish grin at me. “Hi, Aunt Holly.”
“Hi, kiddo.” I hand him the candy. “Were you just playing with Master Chief?”
“Did you say Master Chief?” says a familiar Russian-accented voice from behind me.
I turn.
Yep.
It’s Alex.
“How did you—”
“Dr. Piper told me where to find you,” Alex says. “And who is this?”
“Jacob, this is Alex,” I say to the boy.
“Hi, Jacob,” Alex says in the friendly tone he used with Euclid the other day. “It looks like you’re as big a fan of Halo as I am.”
Jacob’s eyes light up. “Halo rules.”
With matching grins, the two start an animated discussion about some gibberish. I recognize only a few words, like grunts, jackals, and plasma beams.
As they talk, I tidy up around Jacob’s bed, bundling his clean socks into three pairs yet again and folding the blanket next to his bed for what feels like the one hundred and thirty-seventh time—as cute as kids are, they wreak havoc everywhere they go.
When everything is to my satisfaction, I settle into a chair to watch the two of them, and as I do, the feeling I got when Alex interacted with Euclid comes back with a vengeance.
He would make a good dad. An awesome dad.
Blimey. My ovaries are going to turn into a tuna melt.
“Do you want to see clips of me playing?” Jacob raises the tablet.
Alex eagerly agrees, and a minute later, a vicious shootout is on the screen. I sip my tea and force myself to follow along despite the violence.
Jacob is good—or at least, he stays alive for an entire five minutes of an apocalyptic firefight. Then some guy in a blue spacesuit kills him with a plasma sword.
As Jacob’s character lies there vanquished, the asshole who killed him starts squatting up and down over his head.
Alex frowns. “Is he—”
“Yeah,” Jacob says. “He’s teabagging me.”
I choke on my tea. “He’s what?”
“It’s also called corpse-humping,” Alex says. “It’s a kind of victory dance meant to insult and aggravate the person you just killed.”
I roll my eyes. “Boys.”
“You know who that is?” Alex asks Jacob, frowning at the screen.
“Yeah. We go to school together.”
Alex’s frown turns threatening. “How about you and me team up one of these days? I promise I’ll make that guy regret his unsporting behavior.”
Huh. I can suddenly picture Alex as an enforcer for the Russian mob.
“For teabagging my friend, you die,” he’d say with a thicker accent and swing a bat at the poor guy’s knee.
Jacob is thrilled at this opportunity to team up, and they exchange the prerequisite info.
“Do you play anything else?” Alex asks once they run out of Halo stuff to talk about.
Jacob eagerly rattles out a list of games he likes, but Alex looks a bit put out by the end—maybe because Tetris is not on the list?
“What about Tetris?” Alex asks, confirming my suspicions.
Jacob shakes his head. “Old.”
“What about War of Sword? That’s new.”
“Yeah,” Jacob says. “I’ve been meaning to try that one. Is it any good?”
Alex nods. “Tetris is my boredom-killing game, but if I’m stressed, I like to turn off my phone and just quest in War of Sword for hours.”
“Okay then.” Jacob searches the name of the game on the tablet. “Maybe I’ll try it.”
Maybe I will as well. I’m curious.
A nurse shows up with a tray of food.
“Ah, lunch,” Jacob says eagerly.
We watch him eat and talk about everything under the sun—but especially his VR pet, which turns out to have grown a little more.
He might be feeding his friend a bit too much, but in VR, pet obesity has no harmful side effects.
“We’d better go,” I say when Jacob finishes his lunch and appears eager to get back to his games.
“It was nice to meet you.” Alex extends his hand to the boy.
Jacob shakes it solemnly. “You too.”
“Bye,” we all say in unison.
When we step outside, Alex looks at me with an unreadable expression.
“What?” I ask.
He nods at the limo that’s just pulled up to the curb. “Would you join me for lunch?”
Are those bees in my stomach or am I simply peckish? “Sure!”
Oops, may have sounded too eager there.
He opens the door for me. “I know a place that specializes in pelmeni.”
“Sounds great,” I say and climb inside.
To my disappointment, Alex sits across from me this time.
/> No, wait, he’s right to do that. It’s the proper way, even if the seating arrangements are the only proper things on this ride—my thoughts are anything but.
“Tea?” Alex asks.
Since it’s my favorite kind, I say “yes, please” and get treated to samovar-brewed heaven in a cup once again.
“So how did you and Jacob meet?” Alex asks, sipping his tea.
A smile splits my face. “His grandparents know my parents, and they brought him to my parents’ farm while I was visiting. When I came across him, he was petting Spock, my favorite Kirk’s dik-dik.”
It’s Alex’s turn to choke on his beverage. “What was he petting?”
“Kirk’s dik-dik,” I say, grinning. “Dik-diks are these tiny antelopes. My parents rescued Spock and his family from a bankrupt zoo.”
I take out my phone and locate Spock.
“See?” I show him my screen with a cute creature that’s about a foot tall despite being fully grown. Like other dik-diks, Spock has pretty eyes and sharp little horns on his head.
Alex leans within kissing distance of me and peers at the screen. “Adorable. Is this a male or a female?”
“That’s Spock. He’s a male. Unlike some of the other critters on the farm, dik-diks are pretty docile.” I meet his cerulean gaze. “They’re famous for mating for life.”
That last bit charges the air between us until it feels like every tiny hair on my body stands on end.
Is he about to kiss me?
Please kiss me.
Wait, no. What am I thinking? Propriety must be maintained.
“You realize what we’re looking at there,” I blurt. “Right?”
“What?” he murmurs, his gaze on my lips.
“A dik-dik pic,” I say and thank Gia for coming up with that particular pearl a few years back.
That startles him into a laugh. Eyes crinkling, he says, “Oh, yeah. And this one looks horny.”
I groan. That’s another one of Gia’s.
The limo stops.
Whew. Kiss avoided.
I should be happy, but I’m not. I’m disappointed.
But I shouldn’t be.
We exit in front of a building with a drawing of a giant pelmeni outside. It’s called Pelmennaya, which Alex translates as “the place you get pelmeni.”
How creative.
Once we’re seated, Alex orders for both of us—twenty-three pieces for me and thirty-one for him.
“Do you want to stop by 1000 Devils after this?” he asks. “You’ve been talking to Robert over email, but it might be nice for the two of you to meet face to face.”
“Sure,” I say.
Does he want to show me his life’s work? Because I want to see it, and for all the wrong reasons.
Bugger.
I can’t believe I need to remind myself of this again.
Whatever this lunch feels like, it is not a date.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The problem is, just reminding myself that it’s not a date doesn’t make the feeling go away, and Alex doesn’t help matters. Whenever I try to steer the conversation toward work, he pulls out random bits of Russian wisdom, such as, “Talking business is not good for one’s digestion.”
So, we talk about each other instead, and each new tidbit I learn about him is like an extra knot added to a rope wrapping around my heart.
“I hope this place delivers,” I say when I’m done gobbling down my portion of the pelmeni.
“They do,” he says and gives me a piece from his plate. “That’s just one, so still prime, right?”
I eat the piece. “Yes. Thank you.”
He scratches his clean-shaven chin—an evil move that’s clearly meant to direct my attention there. “I’ve been wondering… Do you like prime rib?”
“Not every day, but yeah. Dad used to make a great one on the farm.”
“What about prime-time TV?”
I see where he’s going with this, so I smile and nod.
He grins. “Do you use Amazon Prime?”
“Yep, I subscribed to it as soon as the program was introduced.”
He takes out his wallet. “How deep does this love of primes go?”
I shrug. “I prefer the UK government to the US one because I think Prime Minister sounds much better than President. Does that answer your question?”
“It does—and makes me wonder: do you use a prime broker?”
I shake my head with a grin.
“Ever see the movie Prime Cut or play Nintendo’s Metroid Prime?”
“Neither.”
“Do you own a Prius Prime?”
“I don’t have a car.”
“Ever take out a subprime mortgage?”
“No.”
He scratches that sexy chin. “Are you interested in primeval history?”
I chuckle. “Now you’re pushing it.”
His grin broadens. “How about the primaries?”
“Nope.”
“Privates? As in soldiers, of course.”
“Nope. I’m not especially keen on soldiers, though some private parts might strike my fancy.”
Ugh, stop flirting, Holly.
He laughs. “What about primates?”
I lick my lips. “I like some apes, sure, but not because of primes.”
Seriously, stop flirting—or whatever that was.
He pins me with an almost predatory stare. “I’m sure primates like you too.”
Is he saying that—
The waitress comes with the check, and he insists on covering it again.
“Ready?” he asks when we get into the limo.
“For what?
He smirks. “For the 1000 Devils offices, of course.”
A traffic-filled ride later, we step out of the elevator in front of a plaque that proudly states, “1000 Devils.”
The contrast with my company’s offices and these is stark. There are bright colors all over, and I hear laughter in the distance—like in a petting zoo.
“We have some fun traditions here,” Alex says and leads me into a walk-in closet to the side. “Let’s gear up.”
I blink, looking around.
Instead of clothes, there are nerf guns.
Lots of nerf guns.
Hey, given my recent experiences, these could’ve been cocks or dildos.
“Take this one.” Alex hands me a sturdy-looking gun. “It’s good for a beginner.”
I accept the gun and watch him pick out a rifle.
“What do I do?” I ask when we step out of the armory.
A dark smile dances on his lips. “Shoot anything that moves.”
With that, he shouts something like hoorah and rushes forward.
I sprint after him. I guess when in Rome, you have to act like Jacob’s peer.
The first bullet—or dart—whooshes by my ear two seconds later.
Wow.
Do these hurt?
I sidestep the next projectile and shoot back at the attacker, a forty-something, red-headed bloke with a belly reminiscent of Dad’s.
Bam.
The guy is grunting and rubbing his left eye.
Oops.
A new attacker leaps out of the corner.
Alex lunges in front of me and takes the projectile in the chest. Had that been a bullet, chivalry would’ve been the cause of my boss’s untimely demise.
Since nobody’s shooting at me for the moment, I get a millisecond to take in the office space—and hate it with all my tidiness-loving passion. The desks stand in a haphazard manner. Nerf gun ammo is everywhere. And what’s worse, there are four chairs next to many of the desks.
The net effect is overwhelming, and that’s before armed people leap at me from every direction. My guess is, someone took the whole 1000 Devils branding a tad too far and gave this place the feel of a satanic ritual.
The next attacker joins the fray, a lady about Alison’s age.
I shoot her with dart two and three.
Double
oops. One of my darts hits her groin, another her right boob.
More attackers join in.
A cloud of darts is flying my way.
I duck behind the nearest desk.
A throat clears above me once, twice.
Wait. I know that sound.
I look up.
Yep. I’m face to crotch with Buckley.
In the heat of battle, I didn’t even notice him there.
“Hi.” As I leap to my feet, I catch a glimpse of the code on his monitor. It looks misaligned, and I have to fight the urge to push him out of his chair and tidy it up, and then do the same with the anarchy that is his desk.
Buckley clears his throat twice more. “Hi, boss.” With a goofy grin, he smacks himself on the forehead and clears his throat two more times. “Sorry. Force of habit. I guess you’re not my boss anymore.”
“Right. Sorry. No time to talk,” I rattle out and rush into the gunfire.
That proves it. I’d rather be shot at than listen to Buckley’s throat clearing.
Another enemy dart whooshes by my ear.
I respond with dart number four and shoot the next person with the fifth.
On the next shot, my gun makes a weird clicking sound.
Must be out of ammo.
Hey, at least it was on the fifth shot and not fourth or sixth.
I drop the gun and raise my hands, hoping that will make the assault stop.
Nope.
A shower of darts flies at me.
I cringe.
There’s a blur of movement, and Alex is suddenly in front of me, taking the projectiles in the back.
Wow.
My heart is hammering as if I were in a real firefight—and Alex’s proximity isn’t helping matters.
He’s so close I can smell his tea scent and feel the warmth coming off his big body.
He looks down.
I look up.
Slowly, he bends his head and—
“That’s enough shooting,” someone says nearby, and Alex jerks away.
I turn to face the messiest man I’ve ever seen in my life.
His Hawaiian shirt is wrinkled, his hair is disheveled, and his glasses are warped—as though he microwaved them by mistake.
“Robert,” Alex says with a grin. “This is Holly. I believe you’ve spoken over email.”
As Robert walks by Buckley’s desk, he accidentally knocks over a pen holder.
