Copyright © 2018 by Andie M. Long & Laura Barnard
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
About the Authors
BALLS, TEQUILA AND TEA BAGS
Also by Andie M. Long
Also By Laura Barnard
Katy
It wasn't the sight of my fiancé Richard's spotty arse, bouncing in the air like a trapped balloon in a tree on a windy day that made me erupt. Nor the fact that my non-identical twin sister Victoria appeared to be reaching the dizzy heights of orgasm, while laid underneath him; something I'd not managed in the last three years. No, it was the fact that lying on the bed at the side of them was my vibrator, and as my sister was about to find out once again, I did not share my toys.
'Don't mind me,' I shout in their direction. 'Just picking up a few things.' I drag my suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and put it at the side of them on the bed.
Richard, or as I've always thought matched him better, Dick, has now turned his pale white backside away from my face and is looking between myself and Victoria. His face, in contrast to his bottom, is puce. His dick has shrivelled up so much, a newborn baby's would probably be as big.
'Erm, it's not what you think,' he blurts out pathetically.
Original.
'What?' My sister and I shout in unison.
I shove my case further onto the bed so he and my sister have to move up. My sister is glaring at Dick. Then she recovers herself and pats his knee.
'We've wanted to tell you for a while. Richard and I are in love.'
Of course they bloody are. Victoria wants everything I have, she always has. I won’t let her know how gutted I am—that right now I’m not sure whether I should beat him to death with my vibrator or lock myself in the bathroom and sob.
'I'm very happy for you both.' I tell her, while throwing my undies in the case. 'Dick and Vic. I can see it embroidered on towels.'
'Do not call me -'
'Vic? Vic, Vic, Vic, pinched Katy's Dick.' I rhyme as we descend into the usual juvenile sparring that marred our parents' lives.
'I'm afraid you just didn't meet his needs.' She says with a smug smile.
Grrrr! The urge to pummel her in the face is strong.
'No. I wasn't prepared to put my finger up his rectum to get him to come or scream the words "do me now like the slutty whore I am".' I turn to him, wanting to hurt him. 'I have never had an orgasm with you.'
Dick looks at me with a smirk. 'There's no need to start lying.'
God, he’s bloody sure of himself.
'I'm not lying. Cross my heart and hope to die, I have never had an orgasm with you.' My words are accompanied with the matching hand signal. 'I faked them all. She,' I jab my finger in Vic's direction, 'is probably faking. She's always been good at telling lies.'
Victoria’s eyes blaze back at me. 'My orgasms are very real, as is my love for Richard. We want you to move out.'
I stop and gesticulate wildly with my hands over the case. 'What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?'
'Hang on,' says Dick. 'Shouldn't we talk about all this?'
'No.' My sister and I shout in unison.
I pull the zip around my case and stomp out of the house, slamming the door behind me. In this suitcase is all that I want right now. Mainly: my best lingerie, a decent amount of clothes and my Kindle. At twenty-six, this is how I find myself having to move back into my parents' house. All because of a Dick.
My mum has me sitting in their lounge with a blanket draped over me like I've been in a tragic accident. A cup of tea is thrust into my hand. My dad walks past me and strokes his hand down my dark brown hair, like he's comforting a lonely dog. They sit either side of me on the sofa. It's a good job my mum is tiny and slim as my ample backside makes it a tight squeeze. I might be twenty-six, but in my parents' eyes me and Vic are still about twelve. I am, but only in clothes.
'You two girls never could get along.' My dad shakes his head. 'I don't know what's wrong with that girl. She was always given exactly the same as you, yet she always wanted what you had as well.'
'It must be something to do with her being born second,' adds my mum, 'That's all I can think it is.'
'We love her as much as we love you, Katy, but sometimes I can honestly say I don't understand my other daughter,' says Dad. He offers me his shoulder, and I lay my head on it, welcoming the comfort my father provides.
'Can I move in here for a bit, just until I get a new place?' Luckily, Dick and I only rented, so I should be able to get my own place quite soon.
Dad looks to Mum, a frown wrinkling his forehead. I look to Mum. She’s shaking her head. What the hell is going on here?
'Of course you can, sweetheart, it's just…’
‘Just what?’ I press.
‘Well your mum and I didn’t want to tell you girls until everything was official, but we exchanged today, so I suppose there’s no time like the present.’
Exchanged? What the hell is he talking about? Have they got themselves involved in some weird kind of wife swap cult? They’re too bloody naïve. I’ve been saying it for years. They’ll be tied up in leather and lace, hanging from the ceiling before they politely consider it might be a bad idea.
He takes a deep breath, sitting up straighter, and clapping his hands together. ‘We’ve sold the house.’
I can’t help but stare back at him blankly. Like a complete idiot.
‘Sold the house?’ I repeat slowly.
They’re selling our family home? Why the hell wasn’t I consulted on this?
‘That’s right, sweetheart.’ Mum says carefully. ‘It’s time for you girls to stand on your own two feet.’
‘Our own two feet? I rent a flat. I’m hardly still living in the basement!’
‘We just need to start enjoying our lives now.’
I fold my arms across my chest. ‘What the hell was wrong with your lives before?’
‘Katy,’ she says more sternly. ‘You have no idea how hard it has been raising twin girls. Especially with your rather spirited sister. We deserve this.’
I suppose I can understand that, but I can’t help but feel like an unwanted burden. I always remember my mum smiling and laughing while we were growing up; not finding the whole thing a nightmare.
I take a deep breath and beg my tear ducts not to erupt. ‘So… are you staying local?’
Mum looks to Dad. Dad grimaces. ‘Not exactly,’ he admits.
Oh Jesus.
‘How far?’
‘We’re moving to Edinburgh.’
‘Edinburgh?’ I yell.
I can’t fucking believe it! Right in my moment of need, my bastard parents decide to up sticks to Edinburgh. It’s hardly down the road from Derby. And they’ve exchanged. That means they’re moving soon, right? I better get my shit together.
That evening as my parents lapse into their usual evening ritual of back-to-back television programme watching, I go into my bedroom. They stripped it of all my Justin
Timberlake posters (man, I wanted that trouser snake), but it's still painted pink and has glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling that my dad moans he can’t get off.
I peel back the duvet and slide down into the single bed. My room is the smallest, my sister having claimed the larger bedroom after a tantrum about having to share. I gave up as it wasn't worth the hassle. I've always given up. Given in. Well, not this time.
I look around at my teenage life before I went to uni while my eyes adjust to the darkness. Back home at my parent's house, in my small bedroom while Vic sleeps soundly in my bed, in my flat. I feel the pillow beneath my cheek get moist, so I turn over and let sleep take me some place else.
The next morning, I get ready for school. I'm an English teacher in the same high school I attended when I was younger. Talk about coming full circle. We're two months away from breaking up for summer vacation and I cannot wait.
I put on my work 'uniform' of grey, wide-leg trousers and a white tunic style top that covers my backside, and finish with a plain grey cardi. Then I tie my hair back in a high ponytail. I don't bother with any jewellery as we’re only allowed stud earrings, and my skin is okay enough that I leave my make-up off too. I always prefer the extra twenty minutes in bed.
Despite my not wanting to stand out, I'm firm with the kids. I get to know them well and they respond to the boundaries I set them. Well, for the most part anyway. I slide my large bag off the table, along with an extra shopper filled with textbooks.
'See you later,' I shout up to the parents, whose own alarm has just gone off.
'Have you had some breakfast?' My dad shouts back. He’s always on about it being the most important meal of the day.
'Gary, she's old enough to know she needs breakfast,' my mum says.
'Oh shut up,' I hear him reply. 'She's still my baby.'
I roll my eyes and with a smile on my face head out of the door.
My sister calls me at break-time. I hesitate but answer.
'What?'
'When are you going to pick up the rest of your things?' she snarls down the phone. No "hi". No, "sorry I stole your boyfriend, hope there’s no bad feelings". Nope, straight in there with the kicker.
'For God's sake, Vic; I only caught you at it yesterday.'
'Yes, well I want to make this space mine and I can't do that with your stuff in it.'
How can I be related to this monster? I’m surprised she didn’t try to eat me in the womb.
'Don't you mean you want to make the place yours? Yours and Dick’s?'
'That's what I meant. I want to make it a home Richard will love rather than the student accommodation look it has right now.'
Rubbing my forehead, I sit on one of the battered old sofas in the staff room. I'm close to breaking point with her now. I've never let her see she gets to me, but I love how I decorated my house: in whites with bright accessories. It has a Danish feel to it and the decorations in it are a personal touch; put there with care. An eclectic collection.
'I'll call for them tonight.'
I can hear the smirk in her tone down the phone as she replies 'fabulous.'
From somewhere deep within, I feel a tendril of red hot fury unfurl. I have never lost my temper with her, but I feel a root of pure evil start to release.
'Oh, and can you make sure the car's outside and the key's ready?' I add.
'I beg your pardon?'
'The car. The BMW. It's in my name.' I'd left in a taxi the night before, wanting to return and sort things out fairly, but it looks like that was never going to be an option.
'I want the car,' she says. It’s as if I can hear the pout on her face.
'Well you can't have the car because it's mine, and if I see any damage to it—of any kind—when I come to pick it up, I will make Dick settle it. Which would come directly from your Dick Trussed-up fund.'
'Bitch,' she spits.
'That's right Vic-tor-ia.' I feel strangely energised by the feelings ignited within me. The anger is empowering. 'I want to thank you for starting this change process that's happening to me. I think it was entirely for the best. From now on you can call me Kat. Katy has left the building.'
'You've gone insane.'
'Maybe. But you need to watch out, sis, cos this new Kat has claws.'
Ending the call, I sit back on the sofa feeling really good inside. I stood up for myself and nothing bad happened. I need to do it more often. And that's when I see him, the one sicko in this place that’s going to help me.
Not a marriage prospect. God, no. But the one for my new project. For no longer am I going to be the bloody goody-two-shoes I've always been before. This good girl is going bad and Felix Montague is going to help me get there.
I watch as he swaggers into the staff room because that's all it can be described as. He hardly picks his feet up from the floor. His hips flex, drawing in the soft pale-blue shirt he is wearing that pulls across his torso. I've overheard some of my colleagues state that under that shirt is a tattoo, a dragon, that snakes around his right arm and over his right pec. I’ve never had a dream about it. Never.
He walks right past me, doesn't even notice I'm here. I want to laugh out loud as he goes over to the coffee machine and Debbie falls over herself to ask him what he wants to drink. He winks at her as she passes him his mug and a wrapped chocolate biscuit, and then he flops onto another sofa. He runs a hand through his wavy brown hair, a shaggy style that matches his nature.
Felix has been at Ashfield School in Derby since the beginning of the school year. Long enough to have worked his way around half of the female staff—some married, some not—and long enough to have earned the nickname King Cock.
I decide to watch Grease this weekend for motivation. It's time for Sandra Dee to die and the kitty to come out of this Kat.
Felix
Well, I’m guessing from the missing engagement ring that my mission is complete. Get revenge on that snooty little bitch that’s been bad-mouthing me. I’ve always thought Katy a boring stick in the mud, but when word reached me that she’d been slagging me off at work, I was livid. It's one thing not to like me, but to put a doubt of my abilities in my workplace in peoples minds? Nuh-uh, not cool. And calling me a manwhore? That woman knows nothing about me. The rumours at work were just that—rumours. I haven’t slept with anyone here; not that they haven’t tried, but I get the feeling she’d never believe that.
So when I was having a cheeky pint after work and I overheard a guy bragging about doing his fiance’s twin sister, my ears naturally perked up. I looked over him: medium build, shitty brown hair. He was nothing special. And he was doing it with twins. I was jealous as fuck.
When he started mentioning a Katy; at first, I was sure it was a coincidence. But hadn’t I heard Grey at work joking that she was a twin and he’d love to be the meat in that sandwich? It was basically confirmed when he mentioned the school we both worked at.
His mate asked him when he was next seeing the cheating twin, and he eagerly told him they were having an afternooner the following lunchtime. I can’t help that it just fell into my lap like that.
What I could have stopped myself doing was hacking the school email system, (which a toddler could do by the way), and sending her an email giving her an unexpected afternoon off. I made sure that she’d be walking in on them. I wanted her devastated; that smile wiped off her face. And by the look of things mission accomplished.
Katy
I corner him after school. Well, corner him is a bit strong. Instead I lurk meekly by his door waiting for him to finish up and leave. God, he fannies around a lot for a dude. The door to his classroom finally opens and out saunters Felix Montague, the history teacher, and sex god. He looks even better at the end of the day, all pulled down tie and undone top button.
He spots me immediately. ‘Katy,’ he says in shock. He quickly composes himself. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ He asks in his London accent, doing a stupid little bow like I’m the queen.
I suppose he must assume I’m a stuck-up bitch. I’ve always avoided him before now, having no time for dickwads like him. Players that are only interested in talking to you if you have huge tits and a fresh and tight vagina ready to go. No, thank you. Not that I don’t have a tight vagina. I do. I could crack a walnut in there.
‘Hi, Felix. I need your help.’
His eyes enlarge for a split second. ‘Straight to the point, Miss Cornish. I like your style.’ He smiles, his eyes dancing in amusement.
I can feel myself blush, which makes me angry. I don’t want him to think for a split-second that he affects me in any way. He doesn’t.
‘Well, the truth is that my life is falling apart as we speak, and I need to do something reckless.’
‘Reckless?’ he smirks, seeming not to care for me to elaborate. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ I shrug. ‘I’ve just always been the sensible one and I need someone to push me out of my comfort zone. You know, do something stupid for once? So I thought of you.’
‘Me?’ he scoffs, narrowing his eyes at me. ‘Gee, thanks for the compliment.’
‘Something makes me think you’re not short of compliments around here.’ We pass Mrs Sheldon who waves daintily while undressing him with her eyes. Desperate whore. Go home to your husband!
‘So what you’re saying is you want me to set a dare for you?’
‘Don’t be silly. Are we about twelve?’ I look at him, my forehead creasing. ‘Basically, I have to pick my belongings up from my old home and I wondered if you’d pretend, just for the night, to be my new boyfriend?’
Road Trip Page 1
