by Misha Bell
“Where can I get that hop shoots stuff?” I ask. “Monkey clearly loves it.”
“My dad has a hookup.” Vlad drops more of the veg in front of the two piggies. “But as I said, it’s a little pricey.”
I eye the nondescript vegetable. “How much can it be?”
“With Dad’s discount, four hundred per pound,” he says with a straight face.
A little pricey?
I gape at the guinea pigs, then at him. “Seriously?”
He nods.
“And will they lay a golden egg now?”
He chuckles. “Not likely.”
I shake my head. “That’s like feeding a cat caviar.”
A grin flashes across his face. “My mom did that with her cat, and only stopped because it apparently made the kitty litter too smelly.”
Holy cow. “I must not be a good pet owner,” I say. “I wouldn’t dream of getting Monkey a vegetable that costs more than a pair of shoes.”
He hands me another hop shoot. “Would you get it for yourself?”
I taste it again. “Nope. Not unless I was sick, and this was the only cure. Actually, in that case, I’d get it for Monkey too. As medicine.”
“Well, don’t worry.” He dumps the remainder of the snack into the aquarium. “I’ll bring more to all the play dates, so Monkey will continue to enjoy this.”
Aww. He wants the girls to have more play dates. And, as a side effect, he’s willing to spend more time with me.
This might be a great time to bring up yesterday.
“Listen,” I say, proud that I’m actually going for it. “There’s something I wanted to ask.”
He gives me his full attention.
I blush.
The words don’t come out.
I guess this is mission abort. I’m clearly chickening out.
“What is it?” he asks, now looking a little concerned.
“The testing,” I blurt in desperation. “Since you’re here, and we’re now okay doing it face to face, I was wondering if you wanted to be productive.”
Eek. I almost said “reproductive” there at the end.
He looks thoughtful.
Crapo. If he thinks I’m repulsive, he’ll come up with an excuse not to do it.
“Of course,” he says. “Let’s.”
I guess that’s good, but this doesn’t definitively prove anything. He might be just doing this for his sis.
A way to tell might be to watch him closely during the testing, see if he enjoys watching me.
My blush deepens. “Do you want to do it now?”
He glances at the guinea pigs. They’re back to being best buds and are enthusiastically grooming each other. “Sure.”
I run to my bedroom and come back with the genitalia-decorated suitcase. Opening it wide on the floor by the couch, I contemplate my choices.
His expression is guarded as he examines the suitcase with me.
Beginning to lose my nerve, I point at a large wand-type vibrator. “How about that one?” As I speak, my heart rate skyrockets, and I have to remind myself that I’ve just chosen the least naughty toy of the bunch. They sell these things at Target under the guise of “massager.”
Hell, my mom got me one like this once. She called it the Vibronator.
“Sounds good.” His gaze lifts from the suitcase to my face. “Should I be looking away, like yesterday?”
It would be hard to tempt him if he turns, but I don’t have the balls to undress either, so I say, “How about I use it over my jeans? It should be powerful enough to work that way.”
Looking unsure, he gets the device out.
Is he wondering if he should be the one to hold the thing in place for me? Do I want him to?
“Here.” He hands it to me, much to my disappointment. “I’ll get the app ready.”
As he plays with his phone, I lie back on the couch and spread my legs a little—just enough to be seductive yet still believable as the position necessary to get the vibration job done.
When he looks back at me, his breath seems to hitch.
Score.
I feel a sudden boost of courage.
“Here.” I pat the couch next to me. “Things didn’t go well the last time we did this standing.”
He sits down next to me, the sensual notes of his cologne teasing my nostrils as he murmurs, “Let me know when Mina is ready.”
“Mina?” Has he forgotten that I’m Fanny? And why am I in third person all of a sudden?
His sexy lips quirk. “Mina was Dracula’s romantic interest. I figured since you named mine, I’d help you name yours.”
Holy vampirism. He’s beyond perfect. None of my exes ever played along, finding my penchant for nicknames silly.
Doing my best to hide my glee, I lift one of my temporary eyebrow tattoos. “You should leave all the nicknaming to me. Mina is a terrible one.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Go ahead then, rename it.”
Hmm, a challenge.
I hope I can rise to it. Between having never named that part of myself and all the adrenaline, I’m drawing a blank. Then it comes to me. “How about Gizmo?”
He shoots a glance at my crotch. “Like an electronic device one wants to play with?”
I grin. “No. Like the cute creature from the Gremlins. You know… dangerous if wet.”
He groans, and we both burst out laughing.
When we stop, he shows me his ready-to-go screen. “Shall I?”
Still high from all the laughter, I feel extra bold. “I was wondering if you could hold the wand for me.”
His smile disappears. “You sure?”
My face is on fire, but I nod. “Please.” I hand the wand to him.
He activates it through the app, and it roars like a chainsaw in my palm before he snatches it away.
I gulp in a deep breath.
It’s happening.
Holy wandness, it’s happening.
He puts down his phone, then leans in and slowly presses the loudly vibrating toy against my jeans.
The air whooshes out of my lungs. Even through the layers, the vibration is insane—and brings me to an orgasm almost instantly, dragging a loud moan out of me.
His pupils dilate, and I see he’s about to pull the wand away, so I clasp his wrist to keep it there. I’m greedy for another orgasm, which I can already feel building. The tension is coiling low in my core, my skin tingling as my nipples harden in the confines of my bra.
His face is a mask of purely male satisfaction, even as his eyes are heavy-lidded with arousal.
The orgasm crashes over me, making me cry out. It’s shameless, bold, but I don’t care. I like how this is affecting him. There’s a huge bulge in his pants, mere inches away from me.
Should I unzip him and unleash Dracula?
Not yet.
For now, I grab his other hand and place it over Pinky, bucking my hips against the wand to intensify the sensations that are mercilessly building again.
His eyes darken, and he squeezes my flesh appreciatively, just as another orgasm rocks me, making me scrunch my eyes shut and moan yet again.
As the aftershocks fade, I open my eyes—and stare right into my parents’ faces.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Do orgasms make you hallucinate?
Wait, no, they appear to be real.
Holy fuck.
Mom and Dad have barged into my apartment yet again.
Stiffening, Vlad yanks the vibrator away from my crotch area as I gape at my grinning parental units, painfully aware of the open suitcase of toys at my feet and the orgasm they must’ve just witnessed.
“That is simply fabulous, my dear!” Mom sounds positively giddy. “I knew the Vibronator would come in handy.”
I leap to my feet, and so does Vlad. Swiftly deactivating the wand, he tosses it into the suitcase and closes the thing shut.
I debate whether to die on the spot or not. Pretty sure people have fallen on a sword for much less dishonor.
>
At least my orgasm-flushed face can’t get any redder.
Somehow, I recover my tongue. “Mom, Dad, this is Vlad.” I’m proud of the steadiness of my voice. “Vlad, these are my parents. They’ve clearly never learned about boundaries.”
Coolly composed now, Vlad extends a hand to Mom. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Pack.”
Mom looks on the verge of drooling. “Please call me Venus.”
“Of course, Venus,” Vlad says and extends a hand in greeting to my dad. “Mr. Pack, it’s great to meet you as well.”
“Call me Wolf,” Dad says, and it’s clear he’s also impressed by Vlad, though unlike Mom, he doesn’t look like he’s about to jump him, cougar style.
My embarrassment eases slightly.
Time for payback.
“You heard that right,” I tell Vlad. “He’s a one-man Wolf Pack, like that guy in The Hangover. Grandparents named him that as a prank, and these two played an even worse prank on me.”
“Great to meet you, Wolf,” Vlad says, showing no sign that he heard what I said.
In general, he’s handling this much, much better than I would’ve if his parents had barged in on us.
Mom beams at Vlad. “We came to drag Fanny to lunch. Would you like to join us?”
“I’d love to,” Vlad says without hesitation.
Wait, what is this now? Lunch with my parents and Vlad? We’re not at the “meeting the parents” stage.
We’re still in the limbo stage.
Then again, I kind of met his too.
Could we do this any more backward?
“What kind of food do you like?” Dad asks Vlad.
“I’m not picky,” he replies.
Dad proposes a laundry list of cuisines, and he and Mom debate where they want to go as though Vlad and I are not even in the room. As they go on, I sneak a glance at Vlad’s poker face.
I have no idea what he’s thinking about the two intruders.
Mom and Dad were the first people I tested my app on. My code determined that Mom looks like Princess Fiona from Shrek, but, spoiler alert, after she turns permanently into an ogre. Dad matched with Garfield—and that might be why Monkey is absolutely terrified of him.
“What do you think of sushi?” Mom asks Vlad.
He places a hand on my shoulder. “I go where Fanny goes.”
Spying the hand, Mom exchanges a knowing glance with Dad. “The food Fanny likes is too plain.”
“Hey, I eat sushi,” I say, trying and failing not to sound indignant.
Mom chuckles. “In Japan, they serve California rolls in the American food restaurants, along with burgers.”
I narrow my eyes. “I get other stuff too. How about we go, and I’ll let you order for me?”
Mom claps her hands in excitement, and I herd everyone out of the apartment.
My phone pings.
I sneak a peek at it.
It’s a text from Vlad:
Want to take the limo, or walk to a great little place nearby?
Did he type that in his pocket?
“Mom, Dad, Vlad knows a great little sushi place nearby,” I say. “What do you think?”
They gladly agree to a walk, and we set out on our journey, with Mom and Dad quizzing us about how we met and how long we’ve been dating.
“We work together,” Vlad replies, unflappable as always. “How about the two of you? How long have you been married?”
The diversion works. Mom launches into the story I wish I’d never heard, and especially not the dozens of times she’s told it in my presence. Apparently, she replied to an ad in the newspaper and posed nude for Dad’s painting, he found her irresistible, and one thing led to another, by which I mean that they covered each other in paint and had wild sex on a giant canvas. The resulting work of art actually hangs in their living room to this day.
If I ever get therapy, I’m sure I’ll bring it up. A lot.
Vlad listens to this inappropriate story as calmly as if she’d told him they’d met on eHarmony.
Then another text from him arrives:
Do you want me to have Ivan buy you a keychain lock for the door?
Is he afraid the next time they’ll barge in, they’ll start making art at my place?
Grinning, I reply in the affirmative.
How about one of those smart video doorbells? I know a brand that’s extra safe, privacy-wise.
As I agree to this too, we reach the restaurant and walk in.
“Konnichiwa,” the restaurant staff yells at us in unison.
Vlad replies in kind, his pronunciation sounding flawless to me.
I catch Mom and Dad exchanging an approving glance.
We get seated, and Mom orders me a sushi deluxe, then gets the same for herself and Dad. Vlad orders his sushi à la carte, naming the pieces by their Japanese names like a pro.
“So, Venus, I heard you sing opera,” Vlad says when the waitress leaves. He pulls out his phone. “Would I be able to find a performance by you online?”
She bobs her head enthusiastically. “Search my name, but ignore all the packs of razors and razor blades that pop up early on in the search.”
Two seconds later, Mom’s mezzo-soprano emanates from Vlad’s phone’s speakers.
“Ah,” Vlad says after barely two beats of music. “The Habanera from Carmen.”
“Marry him,” Mom says in a very loud whisper.
My face matches the red top of the full-sodium soy sauce.
Facing Vlad, Mom asks, “What is that wonderful accent I detect in your speech?”
“Russian,” Vlad says. “Speaking of, have you been in anything by Tchaikovsky? The Queen of Spades is my favorite of his.”
The food comes as they launch into an animated discussion of Russian opera, and one thing becomes clear to me: no matter what happens between us, Mom will never, ever, stop talking about Vlad.
“Wolf, you’re a painter, right?” Vlad asks when Mom’s mouth becomes busy with a piece of fatty tuna.
And just like that, Dad and Vlad are soon dropping names like Repin and Malevich as they talk Russian art.
I eat my sushi and enjoy most of it. However, there are two pieces of something brown I’ve never had before, and they look particularly unappetizing.
“That’s uni,” Vlad says, noticing where my chopsticks are hovering. “It’s sea urchin gonads.”
Of course it is. Still, that’s a better name than what I had in my head: poopy sushi.
I’m determined to be adventurous, though.
I eat a piece of pickled ginger to cleanse my palate, then dip the tip of my chopstick into the brown substance and lick it gingerly.
It’s creamy in a gross way and much too briny for my taste.
There’s no way I’m eating it.
Grr. Now Mom will get to say, “I told you so.” Which is unfair, because I ate all the other stuff, raw fish included.
“You know, that’s my favorite,” Vlad says, noticing my grimace. “Can we please trade?”
I squeeze his knee gratefully and put the uni on his plate, grabbing a piece of his salmon and yellow fish in exchange.
“Uni is considered an aphrodisiac in Japan,” Mom whispers to Vlad conspiratorially.
If that’s true, given the way she flirts with Vlad, she must’ve eaten a whole ocean of urchin gonads for breakfast.
“Have you been to Japan?” she asks Vlad.
Here we go. When I was in college, my parents started to travel, and now they never shut up about it—and about the fact that other than my one and only trip to Prague, I haven’t been anywhere outside the US.
It’s another dig at my unadventurousness. Which is unfair. I simply haven’t had the time or the funds to travel at this stage of my career.
I would totally go lots of places if I could.
Probably.
I hope.
Vlad nods. “Kyoto was my favorite city, but I’ve been all over the country.”
Mom grins. “Us too. Everything
was matcha-flavored in Kyoto. Did you go to the Monkey Park?”
They bond over Japan for a while before switching focus to Russia, which they quiz Vlad about. It’s a destination they haven’t crossed off their bucket list. I listen as he gladly answers their questions, telling them all about his hometown of Murmansk and how one can see the Northern Lights there in the winter.
I have to admit, I would kill to see those.
The aurora borealis phenomenon is definitely on my bucket list.
We finish off the meal with fried green tea ice cream that, according to Mom, “isn’t as good as the ones you can get in Kyoto.”
When the check comes, Vlad grabs it and hands his card to the waiter before my dad can so much as open his mouth about splitting the bill.
“Thank you,” Mom tells him as we walk out of the restaurant and head back to my place.
The Russian quiz continues during our walk home. As we reach my building, Vlad stops and smiles warmly at my parents.
“It was very nice to meet you both,” he says. “Would you like a ride home?”
They look confused until he gestures at the limo.
Mom gives him her cougariest onceover of the day. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
We walk over to the limo, where Vlad takes a large backpack from Ivan and says something in Russian, nodding at my folks.
Ivan dips his head in agreement and holds the door for Mom and Dad as they scooch in.
“Bye,” I say with a wave. “Call before you come over next time.”
The limo pulls away, and I let out a sigh. “They won’t call.”
Vlad unzips the backpack. “This should help.”
Inside the bag is a drill, a keychain, and a box with, presumably, the video doorbell.
When we get to my door, I watch Vlad install it all in a matter of minutes—an unexpected display of handyman abilities that’s a stronger aphrodisiac than urchin gonads.
Once the doorbell is set up and I have the prerequisite app running on Precious, Vlad says, “Let’s test it.”
I go inside and flip on the new keychain, leaving him on the doorstep.
He rings the doorbell.
Precious shows me his gorgeous face.
“Yep. It works.” I open the lock but not the keychain.
He tries to open the door, but the keychain thwarts him.
“Great.” I let him in for real, my heartbeat speeding up as I prepare to be bold once again. Looking him in the eyes, I say as steadily as I can manage, “Now we should probably resume the other kind of testing.”
