Whiskey Dick

by Ryan Ringbloom

  “You’re an asshole.” She shakes her head. And I’m not sure, but… is that a faint hint of a smile? “We don’t have time for this shit.” She turns her back to me. “The only favor I need from you is to just go to sleep.”

  “Okay.” I glance at the clock, seeing how little time we actually have left to sleep before hitting the road. “Did you set an alarm?”

  “I’m setting it now. I guess I’ll set it for seven so we can get a little extra sleep, being it’s so late.”

  “Perfect.” I rest my head on the pillow. “See ya at seven.”

  “At seven,” she repeats before shutting off the light and climbing back into bed.

  I definitely think that was a smile.

  I spend a good part of my dream searching for a bathroom. That only happens when my bladder is full.

  My eyes flutter open to a pitch-dark room. I get out of bed quietly and tiptoe across to the bathroom. The bright light I flick on overhead stings my eyes. Before I pee, I run the water in the sink to drown out any sounds. It has to be around 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. I should’ve grabbed my phone so I could check the time.

  I make sure the bathroom light is out before opening the door and quietly make my way back over to the bed. My phone is charging on the bedside table and I reach for it to do a quick time check.

  9:47 a.m.

  There is no fucking way I am reading that correctly. I run over to the window and throw back a corner of the heavy curtains. Light streams in.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Jax, wake up!” I open the curtain all the way, filling the room with the gleaming Miami sun. “We overslept, it’s almost ten. You need to get up.”

  How did this happen? My alarm is always set for 6:00 a.m. but last night before going to sleep I set it to seven. I look at the setting—p.m. Fuckity fuck. I can’t believe it. I’m always so careful.

  “Oh shit.” Jax sits up in bed; this time the sleep he rubs away is for real. He’s still in his same clothes from yesterday. “It’s okay, I’m ready.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not. I need to hop in the shower, brush my teeth, get dressed.” I throw my hands up. “We’re going to be in a car all day. It’s good to know hygiene doesn’t matter to you. Thanks for the warning.”

  “Sorry.” He yawns. “I’m not fully awake yet. As soon as you’re out of the shower, I’ll jump in.”

  “Thank you,” I say, dragging my small pink suitcase into the bathroom and closing the door. In seconds, I’m stripped down and stepping into the shower. The cold water is a jolt but it warms up quick. I don’t bother with my own toiletries and use the hotel freebies from the counter.

  Splat. Shampoo. Rinse. Splat. Conditioner. Rinse. Soap. Soap. Soap. Done.

  I shut off the water, step out to grab a towel, and the door flies open.

  “My turn,” Jax says, taking in an eyeful before I can reach a towel and wrap it around myself.

  “You can’t just barge…,” I begin to rant. “Oh screw it, go ahead.” He’s already seen and tasted most of my body. I don’t have the time nor the energy to argue with him. He’s a cocky jerk and saying something won’t make a difference anyway. I grab my toothbrush and begin brushing rather aggressively.

  He lifts his shirt overhead and tosses it to the floor. I stare at my reflection while I brush, careful to keep my gaze away from the half-naked man next to me. His jeans hit the floor by my feet and on top of them a pair of boxers. I don’t look directly at him but in the mirror I can see everything as he steps into the shower. And what I see is a little unsettling.

  He’s hard.

  A Hard Morning to Get Through

  I’m hard.

  I saw her naked. My dick reacted.

  As soon as she leaves the room, I need to see this through and make sure that my boner has indeed returned and is in full working order.

  Paisley finishes up with her teeth, then she and her little suitcase roll out of the room. The second the door closes, I plop some conditioner into my hand and it’s stroke city. Picking a scenario is simple: I go right back to last night. Her breasts, her tiny shorts, her hand sliding into those tiny shorts. The feel of her skin, the way she tasted, smelled. Her lips wrapped around my cock. That naughty exploring finger.

  Using my free hand to support myself against the wall of the shower I continue stroking with the other. I sure as hell hope the sound of the running water is enough to cover my groans. A few more tugs and my throbbing dick releases. My breaths heave in and out and I smile up at the streaming water as it hits my face. It’s back.

  Whatever that was last night was just a fluke. All that stressing for nothing. But seriously, of all the times for it to happen. I wish I could go out and tell her, hey, good news, but I don’t think that would do me any good and there’s not exactly time to do anything about it now anyway.

  I didn’t think to bring my carry-on into the bathroom with me. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I step back into the room. Paisley’s dressed and ready to go.

  “That took a while,” she says, eyeing me suspiciously like she knows what I was doing in there. And I hope that’s the case. I’d rather have her a little disgusted by me than thinking I’ve gone complete soft serve. “The shuttle to the rental car place will be here at ten thirty. I’m going down to the lobby to wait. You can meet me there after you’re dressed. We only have ten minutes, but I’ll try and grab us some coffee for the road.”

  “Sounds good.” I take a seat on the bed and notice that it takes a few seconds before she averts her eyes. “Sugar. Nice and creamy.”

  “Excuse me?” she says, a bit flustered.

  “If you get coffee, I like a lot of cream and sugar in mine.” I have no clue what possesses me, maybe it’s the return of my manhood, but I wink at her. “I like it sweet.”

  “Ten minutes.” She rolls her eyes, ignoring my wink as the door slams behind her.

  I chuckle to myself as I rifle through my bag for something to wear. At the bottom I find one last clean pair of boxers and slip them on. But that’s about it as far as clean clothes go. When I packed for this trip, I planned on being home by now. I grab my jeans from last night and a gray T-shirt that was only slightly worn. They’re gonna have to do.

  My sister sends me a text as I’m shoving the last of my belongings into my bag. I sling the bag over my shoulder, double-check the room for any lingering items, and leave a ten on the dresser for the maid who will unknowingly scrub my jiz from the shower stall.

  Remi: On the road? How long ago did you leave?

  Me: Leaving shortly.

  Remi: You haven’t left yet?

  Me: Long story but you’ll be happy to know that I will not be making the drive alone.

  Remi: One of the guys going with you?

  There is absolutely no time to get into the story about Paisley right now. I know my sister and she’ll have a million questions. Questions I do not want to answer. After this trip I will never see Paisley again. So, I am going to tell a small lie and hope that Remi will be none the wiser.

  Me: Yeah. Max decided to go home early too. It worked out perfect.

  Remi: Who’s Max?

  Max is a name I made up because my sister and I have many mutual friends. I could easily get busted if I use a real name.

  Me: A friend of Howie’s fiancée. Gotta go.

  I shove the phone in my pocket and ignore the next buzz that sounds. I’ve said enough; anything more and our twintuition may kick in. She’ll know I’m not telling the truth and it will become a whole big thing.

  Downstairs, Paisley waits by the entry doors empty-handed. “Sorry, they have coffee but they only have that powder creamer. I’d rather just stop once we’re on the road. Is that okay?”

  The sun streaming in through the glass front doors accentuates her freckles. I never realized how cute freckles on a grown woman really are. Her hair is damp except for a few dry strands around her face. I get a whiff of that flowery hotel conditioner from her wet locks. Hopefully she doesn’t catch the same sce
nt coming from where I used it. Damn, last night’s flop is really a shame. That could have been a real good time.

  “Um, hello? Are you listening to me? I asked you a question, are you going to answer?” Her snarky tone is exactly what I need.

  It reminds me that she is pretty… pretty bitchy.

  My hair whips around my face, stinging my cheeks. There’s nothing in my purse to pull it back. I’ve searched twice.

  Jax added a few upgrades at the Alamo rental counter. The economy car I reserved is now a yellow Mustang convertible with a navigation device and Serious XM add-ons.

  The car is small, we’re so close to each other. There’s no room to stretch out. And I’m five-six saying that. Jax has to be at least six feet tall. This was not practical at all. There is a plus side though; with the top down it makes conversation next to impossible.

  Jax is taking the first shift of driving. I use my hand to pull my hair back the best I can to contain it and lean back, enjoying the bright Miami sun. Jersey is a bit dreary this time of year. At least this way I can soak up the vitamin D while I still can.

  Drop.

  The first drop of rain lands on my forehead and drips down my face. I grumble at myself for mind-jinxing the beautiful weather and wait for Jax to pull over so we can raise the top of the convertible.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll pass,” he yells over to me. “This happens all the time in Florida.”

  It does. Rain showers are very common in Florida, but we have no clue how long this will last and everything is getting wet. We’re not strolling on the beach in swimsuits or walking through Disney where we can duck into a gift ship. This is an open car.

  “Jax, please pull over,” I yell back. “I don’t want to get soaked.”

  “Trust me, in two minutes the sun will be back out.”

  I’m freezing, big drops spilling down my bare arms. Too bad regret doesn’t keep you warm; if it did, I’d be nice and toasty right now.

  More rain. Lots more.

  I’m smarter than this. I should have never said yes when a perfect stranger suggested we make an eighteen-hour drive together.

  Actually, it’s an eighteen-hour-and-forty-seven-minute drive. I know this because of the navigation upgrade he insisted on. It’s one damn road from Florida to Jersey and we both have Google Maps.

  Why in the hell didn’t I speak up at the rental counter? This is crazy. We’re now drenched, driving with the roof down through a rainstorm in a banana on wheels! He’s too young for a midlife crisis and I know for a fact his dick isn’t small, what the hell is he compensating— Oh God. Of course. This is because of last night. This is limp dick compensation. The flashy car, the upgrades. I should have realized.

  Crap.

  This is my fault. Last night I may have taken things a bit personally and reacted in a not-so-nice way. He said it was whiskey dick and I should have just left it alone. I blame myself and look longingly at the shopping centers we pass, wishing Jax would pull over. This is crazy. Thunder sounds and I don’t think this is just a passing storm.

  As soon as I get a chance, I have to make this better. What happened last night was not a reflection on me. I’m sure he felt like shit and my defense-mode bitchiness only made things worse. Before things went bad, it had been good between us. It was fun getting to know him; I need to find a way to bring it back to that. Besides, it did look like things were back to working order this morning in the bathroom.

  A giant bolt of lightning strikes the ground in the distance ahead of us, making me jump. I exhale a huge sigh of relief when Jax turns into the parking lot of a small silver diner with a bright welcoming sign. As soon as the car is parked, he releases the levers and the roof slowly lifts back into place. We’re soaked and I shiver from the cool air coming from the vents.

  “Can we go in and dry off a little?” My teeth chatter. “We can get some hot coffee.”

  “Yeah, sure. Sorry about that.” He scrubs a hand over his face, trying to cover his embarrassment before running it through a head of wet curls. “I thought it was just a passing shower. Guess I was wrong.”

  My heart sinks just a little. As soon as we get settled inside, we should really discuss what happened. I need to offer more understanding than I did last night. I’m sure it will make for a much smoother ride home without his need for all the added bravado. It really wasn’t that big of a deal.

  ED happens to a lot of guys.

  It’s Rule Freaking One

  Paisley follows the hostess around the corner toward a table. I stay behind and purchase two bright green T-shirts with the words Deb’s Diner sprawled across the chest. Not the best fashion statement, but I have to do something. All weekend small showers had come and gone in a blink; I had assumed this was just more of the same. A simple sun shower. I was wrong.

  This is not the norm for me. My game is good. I’ve got swagger. Did I just say swagger? On second thought, maybe I’m not quite as cool as I think. It’s just in the ladies department, I don’t usually fuck up too often.

  “Here, I got you something.” I toss one of the green shirts at her. She’s changed back into her dark-rimmed glasses, using a napkin to dry the rain from her sunglasses. Her hair hangs down in wet ringlets and her shirt clings to her curves. Every look is a good look on her. “It’s all they had but at least its dry.”

  “Thank you.” She reads the label and holds it against herself. It’s huge.

  “I asked for a small but that was all they had.”

  “No, this is good. One size fits most. It’s perfect,” she says cheerily. Too cheerily, making me a tad suspicious. The shirt is a piece of shit. Why is she smiling at me like that?

  “What’s up?” I ask cautiously.

  “Listen, I want to apologize for last night. What happened was not a big deal. I’m sorry I was rude. It was a long day for both of us and I’m sure that’s why…” She raises her brows and her eyes roll to one side. “You had that trouble.”

  That trouble. Last night she used the word sick and now she’s referring to it as “that trouble.”

  “We don’t need to talk about this,” I bark louder than I mean to, making a few heads turn in our direction. But we’re talking about my dick here. My defenses are on high alert. She better tread lightly before saying anything else.

  “I feel like we do need to discuss it. It’s a long trip and we’re already getting off to such a rough start. The Mustang, the upgrades… you don’t have to make up for what happened.”

  My eyes bore into hers while I absorb what it is she’s implying. I need to get this straight. Is she saying that me upgrading the car was my way of compensating for what happened last night? My eyelids droop, turning my eyes into two evil slits. Blood rushes to the surface of my skin.

  Mustangs are my favorite car. I’m a Stern fan. And navigation just seemed logical in case we veer off course at any point. All valid and true reasons, but the anger coursing through me stops me from saying any of these things out loud to her. I take a moment, inhaling deeply through my nose.

  “Jax, don’t worry.” She leans across the table and lowers her voice. “Erectile dysfunction happens.”

  Wrong words. So very wrong. If there were a book called The Big Book of Men, the first chapter would clearly state that those two words never be said to any man ever. Ever. It would be the first freaking rule.

  I lean back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest. Deep breaths fill my lungs and I try to calm down but her words are like two daggers. And both of those daggers were just plunged right into my manhood. I want to take the high road, but my pride just won’t let me.

  “You want to know the truth, I’m not the one who needs to worry. I think you got last night all wrong, ’cause the only trouble I seemed to be having was with the homely company I chose.” It’s mean, it stings, her eyes instantly go wide with horror, and I couldn’t be happier. “I threw you one ’cause I wanted a driving partner. Or at least I tried to throw you one, but my dick has high stand
ards.” I curl my lips up into an evil smirk. “What can I say, Paisley? You’re not my type.” I stand up from the table, the green shirt wrapped tightly in my fist. “I’m going to go change my shirt. Oh and if the waitress comes, order me a Denver omelet,” I say before striding away.

  That oughta teach her a lesson for accusing me of having ED. Those words are hurtful, mean, and untrue.

  Just like mine were.

  That motherfucking piece of shit asshole.

  The diner is spinning. I spot the keys on the table and grab them. He can Uber his ass back to Jersey for all I care. I am out of here. I slide from the booth and in my haste knock over not just one, but both water glasses on the table. Shit. Like I’m not wet enough already. I reach for some napkins from the silver dispenser. The napkins are thin and tear instantly as I try to mop up the huge mess of water running off the table.

  “Don’t worry. I got it.” The waitress runs over with a towel and urges me back into the booth. It takes her three seconds to clean the mess. I’m close to tears and the waitress places her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, honey, you’re soaking wet. Sophie!” she calls over to another waitress. “Bring some coffee over to table twelve, please.”

  “It’s okay, I was just about to leave,” I say shakily as my body begins to tremble. I’m not sure if it’s the wet clothes or sheer anger making me shake like this.

  “You’re staying put until you warm up a bit,” she says. Sophie comes over and fills the white ceramic mug in front of me with hot coffee. Outside the rain continues to come down in buckets. Leaving now would be a bad idea. Like it or not, I’m stuck with Jax. Steam rises from my mug and I wrap my hands around it for warmth.

  “Let’s get some food in you. How about some pancakes?”

  “Pancakes sound great. Thank you”—I glance at her name tag—“Ida. I’m sorry about the mess. I think my…” My what? Certainly not friend. “The guy I’m with said something that got me a little rattled.”