by Alex Cook, Indigo Sin, Taylor L Ray, LaVerne Thompson (epub)
“Hello sir, I’m Stacy. Your ex -boyfriend tells me that you are looking for a book to help you get over the break up that is still troubling you three years later.” John grinned be hind her and flipped me off. What a dick.
“Yes.” I said, gritting my teeth.
“You were looking for a book you saw on TV with only a tie on the front.”
I sent him a warning stare over her shoulder before I dry wiped my right eye dramatically. Nodding slowly in understanding, I clasped my hands and held them up to my heart. “Yes I would like to read that book. The tie reminds me of a similar one my ex- lover,” I glared at John, “had at our former home. He enjoyed forcing me tie him up and leave him naked for two days so he could be at one with his wild side.” Fuck you John , I said by way of a smirk. He turned a darker shade of red. “But I think it would help me in some small way to get over the loss.”
Stacy led the way. We moved stealthily behind her, ducking our heads in case we were recognised or gang-raped in the romance section. Turning to face us, she held out a book housing the front cover I was looking for and asked me the dreaded question. “Which book in the series do you want?”
I looked at John ques tioningly. He shrugged, which didn’t fucking help the situation. We looked like two of the lame Stooges missing the funny along with brother number three. At least I was the good looking one of the duo, John had only snagged a hot wife on a technicality. He got rich, fast. I desperately searched for the ounce of literary knowledge I knew I didn’t have, so I smiled and faked it. “I hear this is a popular, sought after series.”
“It’s a trilogy.”
“I knew that.” HA “And how many books are there in this trilogy?” “Three.” She answered dumbfounded.
Three! If I bought her too much, she’d accuse me of fucking someone else. Then again, if it wasn’t enough, hello blue balls. “We’ll take two sets of all three, please.” I decided quickly. John’s smart retort nixed her ‘why do you need two sets’ question.
“In the few short minute’s I’ve spent in your store, I’ve decided to rekindle my romance with George. Thank you B&N for reuniting us.” Like tennis match fanatic, her gaze shot back over my head.
“Oh…darling,” I tried not to choke, “that makes me all kinds of rainbow striped happy and I just want to hug a pony in delight, “I sighed dramatically, “Now come here stud muffin and give me a big wet kiss.” I pursed my lips, and flapped my tongue at John.
“Oh, fuck off.” He grabbed the book from the clerks hand and stormed off to find a cashier.
I smiled at her, grabbed the remaining literature and followed him to the counter.
“Crash and burn you mother fucker.” I gloated because no matter how hard he tried; he’d never be as good as me.
“Careful or I’ll fuck yours.”
I elbowed him in the ribs. Now I wasn’t stupid enough to choose the momma’s boy title over my wife’s property stamp because that was a quick death, but nobody insulted my mother.
“You wouldn’t stand a chance wit h Lady-Vixen- Bethers.” The cashier frowned as she looked us both over.
Changing subject he arched a brow. “Out of interest, who’s the bitch?” John queried as he handed over his credit card.
“Obviously, you are.” I confirmed.
“Wait, I’m taller. You should be the bitch” he exclaimed. “Height has nothing to do with it.”
“What does then?”
“Girth,” I finished and handed over a crisp $50 bill.
“And how the fuck do you know if your dick is bigger than mine?” “Eleven years ago, a whole keg and a ruler,” I reminde d him. “That was pre dick pumps. You’re the bitch.”
She rang up our purchases before handing us two gift bags. We left the stressful clogging atmosphere of the down town New York mall and headed back to my house. Once inside, we dumped the gifts on the mahogany dining table that looked more like a miniature, seats-six, Viking bench than a place to eat. John pulled a book out and read the back briefly before dumping it back in the half crumpled gift bag.
“Any good?” I queried.
“How the fuck should I know? I got bored after the first word.” I dug around and pulled out the first book my fingers found. Turning
it over, I skimmed the first line.
“Well…” John urged.
“You’re right, it sounds boring. Want a beer?”
“Save them. Macy is forcing me to come over here later. We’re going to need a keg at this rate.”
Pulling open the top drawer of the cabinet, I dug through the cutlery, nearly chopping my finger off on a Gordon Ramsey must-have knife, and retrieved a small box. I handed him my spare pair of discreet silicone ear plugs. He grinned and slipped them in his jacket pocket, thanked me and left promptly.
He wasn’t my friend, he was a fellow man in desperate need, and even I couldn’t ignore the call for a life saver. I jogged back up the stairs for the third time that day. Finally I had the house to myself so I ripped off all of my clothes. The only danger of parading al fresco was the risk of Mrs Jones walking past, catching a glimpse of the Donkey Dick, as I liked to call it, and her dying on the spot of heart failure. I took a quick shower before I sat down at my desk, sans the comfort of the Superman cotton and cleared the backlog.
Chapter Three
For the second time in twelve hours, I was freshening up in the shower I didn’t need, for the guests I didn’t invi te. Kate insisted I had an issue with hygiene. No one ever came close enough to smell if I was clean or not, so I didn’t see how it made a difference. She’d sent Cassidy to her mom’s for the weekend so we could have some alone time. Now, that didn’t equate to a weekend sex-athon, it just meant that she was very busy and the chances of sex were only slightly higher. Scrubbing my body raw, in case I missed one dead skin cell, I regretted the earlier decision of waiting until later to have a beer. Now I’d have to engage in conversation and suffer until I managed to get wasted.
“Georgeeeee what the hell are you doing up there, wrestling a god damn beach whale?”
Increasing the speed of the power- jet sprays didn’t drown her out. Judging by the sound of her elevated screeching, John and Macy had just arrived. Telling her I wasn’t in fact wrestling a beach whale because she wasn’t showering with me was a suicide mission because now she had reinforcements. I say reinforcements because John was a pussy when Macy was a round. So if she agreed with Kate, so did John. See why we weren’t friends?
I towelled myself dry and slipped into a pair of jeans with a slightly more oxygen flow than the latest fashion and buttoned up a black YSL shirt that was fashionable…10 years ago . Plastering a fake smile I stepped into the kitchen. John returned my fake shit- eating grin as he patted the keg he’d brought for our personal enjoyment.
“Hello Macy. It’s been too long.” I enthused automatically. Two fucking days was nowhere near long enough . I did the air blow-a-kiss thing and moved behind Kate. I’d never understand the logic of screaming when you saw the friend you’d left only three hours ago. My fingers shaped her ass before I pinched the thick of her flesh. Maybe she’d get horny, ki ck them out and make this my lucky day. Swatting my hands away, she moved across the kitchen without caring to shield my boner and plopped down on the bench next to Macy. John held up two fingers like a peace sign, and mimed a bottle of wine behind poured down his throat. I was in no mood to argue with wine fuelled women, so I pulled a mug from the cabinet and filled it up to the top with beer.
The hours passed in a blur, while topics of conversation jumped from their disturbing monthlies, to who was hotter than George Clooney or Ashton K. The latest fashion took precedence for about an hour or seven before the fish-eating dead-cell beauty treatments were thoroughly analysed. All topics designed to bore the shit out of anyone interesting zoomed over my head, and all I had to do to make it go away was hum and nod in the right places, followed by a chorus of excited ‘absolutely honey’s’. If I shadowed the designated evenin
g plan, I’d get longer periods of peace because being agreeable paid off. And just maybe I’d get more sex. Resting my spinning head in the palm of my hand, my propped elbow slid from the table top as another squeal penetrated my brain. Raising a brow, I checked back in to the conversation.
“Did you really George????” Kate quizzed as her eyes doubled in size.
Uh oh , did I? “I sure did honey.”
“Honestly and truthfully?” added Macy. At Johns nod, she squealed and jumped in his lap. Ok, what the fuck did I miss and take note that I was praying to god that I did do thing I just agreed to.
“Oh my god, oh my god…oh my….goooooooooood,” screeched my wife as she jumped up from her seat. She stopped to belly dance between Cha-Cha sliding across the tiles from the other side of the kitchen. Squishing her boobs, Kate made grabby hands in the air while sh outing, “Give it to me.”
Both my brows shot up in surprise before Budweiser courage urged my body into action. I sprang up, unzipped my jeans and gripped the waist band of my boxers. The scream that followed shot to my groin like an ice laser freezing any and all further action. Rapidly packing my shit away, I donned a wholly innocent look while successfully ignoring John and Macy’s presence before I sat back down.
“If you can’t handle your drink, George, then maybe you should have Cola from now on.” Kate reprimanded.
“What can I say, I have a beautiful wife and I just can’t control myself around you, honey.” I motioned her over and patted my lap; winking away the tension you’d need a meat cleaver to cut open. Opportunism never hurt anyone but my ego. She stayed where she was, extending an open palm in expectation. Throw a drunken man a bone, god dammit. I still didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about, and I said as much with a half quizzical expression. John was too busy being fondled to care about my current predicament.
“You could always redeem your lack of attention by giving me my Valentine’s Day present now.” It sounded like a choice, but it wasn’t. That meant do it or face the two dreaded words I loathed to hear. You remember them, right? SEX BAN.
V day was a publicity stunt but if it would please her, get me off of the hook and land me a blow job before bed time, I was game. Pointing to the top of the refrigerator I easily gave in to her demand. Kate squealed and practically climbed the frid ge to get to the gift. Polar bears couldn’t rip into their fish as fast and she destroyed the bag.
When Macy held up identical books, more screaming ensued and they both started jumping up and down like Meerkats in unison .
“And there are three of them! I only thought there was one.” That was the closest to thank you I was going to get.
“Yes. Happy early Valentine’s no -more-gifts- coming Day,” I congratulated. “Where’s mine?” I half joked.
She shushed me and hugged Macy. “You get yours on Valentine’s Day.” See? It was one rule for her and Fifty Seven Shades of Depends-On-What-It-Is shit for me.
Resting my head on the table top to recover from the tinnitus I just developed, caused by their conjoined banshee initiation screech fest, I felt slightly faint. I’ d had about five mugs of beer by this point and I was almost wasted. It was then that I heard three sets of footsteps heading towards the direction of the living room, clacking across the hardwood floor of the hallway, yet no one thought to carry my ass. How important was I in this foursome?
I stood, grabbed a clean glass and refilled it to the top before I swayed across the kitchen and headed to the living room to join them. John was stabbing the unlit fire place with a broken tennis racket trying to look useful. I plopped down on the single armchair and set my beer down on the coffee table.
“Oh my god, this guy is fucking hot.” Kate squirmed in her seat as she flicked though the book while Macy joined in with agreeable noises. The signal for sex night was Kate rubbing her thighs together as she eye fucked me from across the room. The thought sent shock waves to my cock, like an air raid siren. Incoming, incoming, sex alert, get ready but hold your fire until I give the command. The question was, why was she doing that now? Was if I misreading the signals again? Hanging back was a smart move since I was borderline wasted.
“Darling, what’s a butt plug?”
This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill. I looked at John whose mouth did the whole Noah’s Ark thing again.
“A device you put in your ass.” I supplied.
“Thank you Einstein. Do you have one?”
Why the hell would I have a butt plug? That didn’t stop me from hoping there was a cleverly nestled one somewhere in the junk room. John chose that exact mom ent to grab Macy’s hand, drag her up off the couch and disappear into the hallway. I checked my watch; it looked like 2 am four times over.
“Night guys, we’re going home.” Macy giggled from outside, as John barked a hurried ‘later’
The front door closed, and the lights dimmed by themselves. I leaned back into the comfortable embrace of the soft leather armchair and rested my head.
“George…” Kate purred, rousing me from what I knew to be a ten second power nap. I cracked open an eye.
“Turn the lights on, I can’t see a thing.”
She complied while I bribed my neck to work. Heels complete with fishnet stockings, a leather skirt and tank top came into view as she hugged the door frame.
“When did you change?” Hello!
“While you were busy, snoring.” She scolded as she bent down. Tracing her fingers erotically back up the length of her stocking, Kate’s mood switched when they came to a halt on her pebbled nipples.
Fuck me ! She picked the night I couldn’t see straight as sex night? I was fucked without actually ge tting to fuck anyone. I’d waste time praying I was just being Punk’d but I wasn’t rich enough for that kind of luck. “George...” she said, coyly, “I want to play BDSM.”
I gathered the few wits I had left as I wrestled with the bulge in my pants. “Sure honey, we can play whatever you like.” Screw anyone who judged me. If she wanted me to tie her up and fuck her savagely instead of the usual wham bam, I’d play her damn game until I passed out.
“Well,” Kate grabbed the book I bought her off of the floor and flicked through the pages, “you need to bend over and let me spank the shit out of you.”
What ever happened to the damn missionary position? “I’m sure that’s not what BDSM is.” I choked out.
“Oh and when did you become an expert?” she opposed. “When did you?” I hedged.
“Since I read the first book,” She admitted smugly while letting me know my gift wasn’t great or original. Maybe a book on gardening would have been safer?
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d read it?” I asked carefully. Shaking her head, she came and dropped onto my lap, crushing my
balls. “Blame Joanna from personnel, she emailed me the first book on PDF and I skimmed through it. Reading from a computer screen is a pain in the ass.”
“That’s fraud,” I pointed out.
“I have redeemed myself,” s he said waving the hardcopy. I tried to pull her top up with one hand, while drunken fingers dug
into her curvy hip, holding her steady as I thrust upwards and into her thigh. “Wait,” she ordered and stealthily jumped back up to finger the
pages.
The desperation for any form of physical contact pumped adrenaline into my drunken limbs forcing me to haul ass off the couch. Pulling her half-dressed body closer to my chest, I ripped the book from her grip, chucked it over my shoulder and kissed her deeply. She softened in my arms, and hummed sounds of delight that recharged my Donkey Dick as my fingers crawled up her short skirt to get reach the on button.
She pulled away quickly and dived for the stupid book. I sighed and gave in.
“We need some ribbon. Oh and a….” Kate didn’t even finish before she shot out of the living room. I could hear every clatter when she rummaged through every kitchen drawer before she finally came back. Holding a piece of string in the air, and
another hand cryptically hidden behind her back she smiled.
“What exactly do you think you are going to do with the unused part of our clothesline?”
“Use it, what else?” she said it like I was the dumbass of this pair. “Use it how?” I pressed as the beginnings of a news flash fired a
makeshift bazooka into my balls.
“It says right here” she tapped the page, emphasizing the words, “that he tied her up and spanked her. So turn around, pull your pants down and bend over the couch.”
The key to getting what I wanted without giving in to her demands was evasion. It was the answer to every tough situation. “Who is ‘he’?”
“Christian Grey ,” she huffed like I was supposed to have his name committed to memory.
“And what makes this Christian Gay so knowledgeable?” I questioned.
“It’s Grey and he isn’t g ay. He just has some issues in life and he found ways to manage them by spanking a range of women he sleeps with until one special woman comes along and stops all of that.”
“I can see why he murdered his wife then.”
“He didn’t kill her! And my daddy who has lots of shot guns calls my cell every day. And you know full well he will notice if I’m gone, George Bethers.” That earned me a glare, but she had a point because the early years of our marriage were spent reminding myself of those very same facts.
“Honey, how could you even think such a thing?” I exclaimed, hoping it was convincing.
“Quit with the side tracking and strip.”
Evasion owed me a refund. “Let’s recap. You said he tied her up.” “Well I equate the version of myself I have buried deeply to h is
character.”
What the fuck did that mean? “How’d you figure that?” She gave me the dumbass look. “He’s a control freak, I’m a control
freak, so that means you are the tied up party and I’m the one doing the spanking.”
“Assuming I agree,” Which I wasn’t, “we don’t have ribbons, butt plugs,” for her, “or a paddle.” Again, for her.
