by Lili Valente
“And ninety percent of the guards are new recruits so green they spend most of their time flirting with the housekeeping staff or fucking around on their phones,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Meanwhile, the people they’re supposed to be watching out for overdose in their rooms or go out for pizza and never come back or get tracked down by the creeps who sent them into protective custody in the first place.”
Shane huffs. “Now, Cat, please, they can’t all—”
“Yes, they can,” Cat says, cutting her off. “I’ve visited clients at these places for my pro bono work. They’re gross, unhealthy, and, most importantly, dangerous. If Petey could disarm my security system and drug my dog without waking Aidan or me up until he was already in the house, he’ll take out a baby policeman before he can look up from his copy of Busty Boobies Monthly.”
Shane’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “Doubtful. Men glance up pretty damned fast when they’re looking at porn while they’re supposed to be working.” Her words are flippant, but her tone is strained, and when she turns to me, it’s clear she’s as concerned as I am. “Talk to her, Aidan. Tell her that holing up in a safe house with a hunky, tattooed man who gave her the best sexing of her entire life is where she needs to be.”
“Shane, you promised!” Cat barks, inspiring a hoarse yip of outrage from Fifi, who apparently agrees that everyone should back off and let Cat do as she damned well pleases.
“Quiet.” I point a finger at Fang. “You haven’t been awake long enough to weigh in on this situation.”
“Yeah,” Shane says, wagging her own finger at the dog. “And you’re not old enough to be hearing about your mama’s sex life. Cover your ears.”
“And you, behave.” I shift my finger to point at Shane. “No more talk about what Cat and I have done or will do when we’re alone behind closed doors. Believe it or not, we’re both private people, and embarrassing us isn’t helping anything right now.”
Shane bites her lip, looking legitimately penitent. “I’m sorry. Teasing is the way I handle stress. And I’m really stressed. I don’t want to lose my best friend because she’s too stubborn to let you help her stay alive until Friday.”
“I’m not stubborn,” Cat says, inspiring twin “yeah, right” sounds from Shane and me. “I’m not!” she insists. “I’m willing to let Aidan help me stay alive until Friday morning, just not at a safe house or a friend’s house. Maybe we could get a hotel or something?”
“Lip isn’t going to like this.” I bring my hand to my chin, scratching at my beard as my wheels begin to turn. “Or Bash either, but…I may have an idea.”
“What’s that?” Cat puts Fifi down on the island as Shane sets out a dish of water. The dog hurries over and daintily dips her head to drink.
“Why don’t we get out of the city for a few days?” I say, thinking of my stepmother’s text, offering the use of one of her cottages. “Go somewhere Nico won’t expect you to go.”
Red’s eyes light up. “You mean a road trip? You know I love a road trip.”
“A short road trip,” I clarify. “Just five or six hours.”
Cat bounces lightly on her toes, apparently just the thought of being on the road infusing her with a shot of energy. “Five or six hours is more than enough time to eat an entire package of Red Vines and overdose on Dr Pepper. And where do we end up at the end of this journey?”
“I was thinking my parents’ place in the Finger Lakes.” I smile as Fang finishes her drink and comes to sniff my hand instead of Cat’s. “My stepmother owns a winery and bed and breakfast. She uses her maiden name, so on the off-chance Nico figures out who I am and starts looking for family connections, there’s no way he’ll trace me to Julie. We should be safe lying low there for a few days, and I know she’d be thrilled to meet you. I used to talk about you a lot back when I was on break from college.”
Cat’s eyes narrow on Fifi as her lips press thoughtfully together. “This is an excellent plan, but I think Fang should stay here with Aunt Shane. If that’s okay with you, Shane.”
“Of course it is,” Shane says, clapping her hands lightly together.
“But I thought you couldn’t have pets in the building.” I rub my new best friend behind the ears until her tongue lolls out of one side of her mouth. “It’s no problem to take Fang with us. My parents love dogs and I—”
“No, that can’t happen,” Red says with a firm shake of her head. “I need her to love me best. She’s already starting to like you better. If we take her with us, she’ll break up with me and convince you to buy a man purse—the better to tote her around Manhattan on your motorcycle—and let her be the live-in mascot for your tattoo shop.”
“Only service dogs are allowed in the shop.”
“But the man purse is still on the table?” Cat asks, amusement in her voice.
I shrug. “A man has to carry shit, and sometimes my wallet gives me a cramp in my ass if my jeans are too tight.”
“Shane, save me.” Cat leans across the island to squeeze her friend’s hand. “You have to watch Fang so she’ll still love me when this is all over.”
Shane laughs. “She will always love you, crazy pants, but yes, I can hide Feefs from the mean old HOA for a week or so. She’s such a good puppy. She’ll know not to bark when the grouchy man downstairs is at home. We’ll have an amazing time and get all rested up to celebrate your new lease on life when you get home.”
“Perfect,” Cat says, turning back to me. “I hope you’re not too sad that it will be just you and me.”
I shake my head. “Not at all. I like just you and me.”
And I do. In fact, I can’t wait to be on the open road, zooming away from the dangerous men, dark memories, and bad habits of the city, looking forward to a few days with Cat all to myself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
From the text archives of Curved for her Pleasure
and Polka Dot Panties
Panties: Where is he, Curve? Where are you hiding him?
Curved: Red! Good to hear from you. I was just about to call you to talk about this. I’m—
Panties: Don’t try to placate me, Curve. Tell me where Hole in the Ground is. I know you’re with him. I just went by his dorm, and his roommate said that you’d been there a few minutes ago.
Curve: That doesn’t
Panties: The roommate also said he’d overheard something about Hole’s life being in danger. He didn’t seem very impressed when I told him that I’m the one who’s going to kick Hole’s ass so hard his anus is going to pop out through his left nostril.
Then he mentioned that I looked familiar.
If he had said anything about the picture, I would have kicked his ass just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and having eyes.
You need to hand over Hole before I vent my rage on innocent people.
Curved: Where are you?
Panties: I’m crossing the quad, scanning dark corners for signs of a snake and his handler hiding in the grass. Where the fuck are you and that shitty piece of shit is a better question.
Curve: I want you to take a deep breath, Panties. Uncurl your death mittens and find a place to sit down in the shade. It’s a beautiful day.
Panties: It is not a beautiful day. It is a shit day! This day is a diaper full of green baby diarrhea.
Curve: How about I send you some of that soothing, pan flute music you like to listen to? I’ll gift it to your Music Monster account right now. You can pop your ear buds in, relax in the shade, and let yourself be lulled by the pan flute for fifteen minutes while I deal with Hole.
And as soon as I’m done I’ll come get you.
Panties: No, you’re not dealing with Hole! I’M dealing with Hole. It’s my ass that he plastered all over the Internet, so it’s my ass that’s going to make HIS ass sorry that it was ever born.
Curve: I made him take it down, Red. That’s the first thing I did when I got to his room. He’s erased all the posts, and I made sure he wiped it from hi
s phone and his computer, too.
Panties: That’s not good enough!
Curve: He’s also going to be on disciplinary leave from the Dashers for the next month and have to perform a trial by fire to get back into the club’s good graces.
And you can decide his trial by fire. Does that sound fair?
I was thinking of making him run up and down the street on pub-crawl night wearing nothing but a pair of polka dot panties. That would be fitting revenge, right?
Panties: No it wouldn’t. Because he enjoys running around half-naked, making a fool of himself. Remember the lingerie he wore to the cross-dressing event last year?
Everyone has already seen his junk. No one had ever seen mine.
But now the entire school has seen me squatting to pee in the grass, and the only way to make this better is to kill Hole with my bare hands.
Curve: First of all, not everyone has seen you squatting to pee. The post on the message board only had five hundred hits by the time I heard what happened and made him take it down.
Panties: Five hundred! Is that supposed to make me feel better?!
That only five hundred people have seen me peeing with a dumb look on my face?!
Oh my God, I’m never going to be able to show my face on campus or in Pennsylvania or anywhere else for the rest of my life!
Curve: Secondly, your “junk” as you so delicately put it, was not visible in the shot, just your ass. Your junk is still your private business and your ass is completely stunning.
Yes, I understand that the picture was taken and shared without your knowledge or permission, and believe me, that pisses me off as much as it does you.
Panties: I sincerely doubt that, you patronizing jackass.
Curve: But you have nothing to be embarrassed of, is what I was going to say. And I’m not being a patronizing jackass! I’m trying to make you feel better, while also making sure you don’t get kicked out of school.
If you kick his ass, you will get kicked out of school, Panties. Assault is grounds for mandatory expulsion.
Yes, if you tell the disciplinary board about the picture, Hole will probably get kicked out, too. But will that really be worth it? I know you love it here, and your dad is a hardass who will not be happy about his daughter getting kicked out of university for fighting. Do you really want to fuck up your whole life just because an asshole thought it would be funny to take a picture of you while you were peeing?
And Hole is sorry, by the way. He really is.
I don’t think he realized how upsetting this would be to you. He wanted to prank you, not shame or enrage you. He’s as dumb as a sock full of rocks, but he’s not cruel. You know that. If he were, then I would be beating the shit out of him myself.
But you should see him. He feels terrible. He’s all sniffly and sad, and so scared he’s about to crap his pants.
Panties: Then he should.
Curve: Should what?
Panties: Crap his pants. Tell him to crap his pants and then take a long slow walk around the quad so I can watch people’s faces as he goes by.
Curve: You’re serious?
Panties: The walk needs to last at least fifteen minutes.
The quad is packed, so that should be enough to make sure five hundred people see him wandering around with his pants full of his own feces.
Curve: Jesus Christ. That’s really nasty, Red.
Panties: Those are my terms.
Communicate them to Hole. Should he choose to accept my offer, I promise I won’t lay a hand on him.
Curve: All right.
Panties: All right, you’ll communicate my terms? Or all right, he’ll do it?
Curve: He’ll do it. He’s already done it, actually, and it smells like shit.
Imagine that.
We’re starting toward the quad right now. He wants me to tell you that he’s sorry, and that this is worth it to earn your forgiveness.
Panties: I didn’t offer forgiveness. I offered him the chance not to get his face smashed in with my foot.
If he wants forgiveness he’s going to have to change his Dasher name to Shit Pants for Brains and write Panties is My Master on the back of his lucky hat in puffy paint.
Curve: Done. Name change official as of now, paint to be applied after he’s finished his walk of shame.
But if you have any more messages for him, you’ll have to convey them yourself. He’s on his own from here on out. I can’t stand the smell of him a second longer. It smells like he had rotten tacos for breakfast.
I see you, by the way. Can I come over and watch with you?
Am I forgiven for the sin of trying to keep you from getting kicked out of school?
Panties: Yes. You’re forgiven.
And yes, you can come watch with me. Public shamings are always more fun when shared with a friend. Even the Pilgrims knew that.
I’m still too pissed to thank you, but I probably will later. Sometimes my anger at the injustice of the world gets the better of me.
Curve: Like that time in Kathmandu?
Panties: You know we do not speak of Kathmandu.
Curve: Are you ever going to tell me whether anything really happened in Kathmandu, or if you’ve just been fucking with my head for almost two years?
Panties: Probably not. We women have to maintain an aura of mystery, you know. And I have to work harder to maintain mine now that you’ve seen my bare ass.
Curve: I have not. A picture isn’t anything like the real thing. I consider us still on a no ass-information shared basis.
But if it really bothers you, I can show you my bare ass later so we’ll be even.
Panties: Make me that offer later tonight, when I’m drunk enough to take you up on it without blushing my face off.
Curve: Will do. ;)
Panties: Now hurry up and get over here. People are starting to notice that Shit Pants for Brains has shit in his pants, too. I want to laugh at their horrified expressions with you.
Curve: putting down phone running straight to you
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
We get on the road fast, and by mid-morning, Manhattan is a distant memory as we wind through lush green hills toward the Finger Lakes region. We stop only for gas and snacks and by unspoken agreement refrain from talking about anything that will remind us of why we’re on this impromptu road trip.
And eventually, my jaw relaxes, and I’m able to enjoy the drive and, of course, the company.
“Why on earth did you buy these?” Cat pulls a package of bright blue coconut snack cakes from the bag of road munchies I bought at the last gas station. “Ew. You know these are made of rat feces, radioactive food coloring, and armpit shavings, right?”
I snatch my package of Glo Balls from her fingers and drop it between my thighs before returning my hands to the wheel.
“Give them back! I wasn’t finished reading all of the disgusting ingredients.” Cat reaches for the snack cakes, but I slap her hand away and point a warning finger in her direction.
“Stop. Right now. No messing with me while I’m driving.”
She huffs. “But I wasn’t finished examining your Glo Balls!”
“I never let women examine my Glo Balls on a first date.”
“That’s a dirty lie,” she says, walking her fingers up onto the console between us. “I examined your balls last night. And that was basically a first date. A weird first date, but still…”
“We were friends for years, so last night was nothing like a first date. And you did not examine my balls. You didn’t even roll them around in your fingers, let alone get up close and personal.”
She hums beneath her breath. “All right. Point taken.” She walks her fingers back over to her own seat and starts digging through the snack bag again. “I’ll make a memo to do a thorough exam at my earliest convenience.”
“Don’t you mean my earliest convenience?” I ignore my thickening cock, which is insisting he’s way more interesting than my balls, and should be exam
ined as soon as I can find a smooth place to pull over onto the shoulder. “I mean, I’m the one who’s going to have to get naked.”
“Not necessarily,” she says, a husky note in her voice that does nothing to help the increasingly uncomfortable situation below my belt. “I could always lean over and do an exam right here. I’ve never given road head before, but I’m willing to give it the college try.”
My cock strains the fabric of my jeans, insisting that is an amazing idea, but I shake my head and warn Cat, “Behave,” as I rip open my Glo Balls.
Shane didn’t seem overly stressed about loaning Cat and me her late aunt’s vintage 1960s Rolls Royce, but I’m determined not to get so much as a ding on this car, which means no veering off onto the shoulder because I’m getting head while driving.
Though now, thanks to Cat, I can’t shake the image of her kneeling at my feet, her gaze holding mine as she swirls her tongue around the tip of my cock. I try to replace the visual with something else, but not even imagining that my snack cake is actually made of all the gross things Cat said it was made of is enough to completely kill the fantasy.
I need conversation and quick.
“Remember the road trip to the Death Valley marathon?” I ask, inspiring a hungry moan from Cat.
“Yes. Oh my God, I ate so many Lemon Heads on that trip.” She bites into a Red Vine and chews with a sigh. “Red Vines are good, but you can’t beat a good Lemon Head binge. I ate those things until my tongue had first degree acid burns and it hurt to swallow.”
I nod. “I can’t believe so many stores stopped carrying those. They’re so fucking good.”
“So good.” She hums again, wagging a fresh Red Vine toward my side of the car. “But they did make me drink a ton of water, which made me have to pee every hour, which led to us stopping the bus at the grossest rest stop ever.”
“I remember.” I take another bite of my Glo Ball, talking around the sponge cake disintegrating in my mouth. “Was that the place where you said it looked like a giant butt had been stabbed in the women’s room?”
“Yes!” She slaps me on the leg, clearly pleased with my recall. “It was the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen. There was crap all over the walls. Seriously, all the way up to the ceiling in some places. It was like a giant butt had walked in there and been murdered all over the women’s room, in every stall, all over the sinks. Just nasty butt murder everywhere the eye could see.”
