It Started as a Joke (All the Presidents' Beds, #1)
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Sandra had a lot of inertia. Once she got moving in one direction it was like trying to turn around a train. The only thing that could stop her from spending the next twenty minutes talking about my and Alessandro’s illicit night was to hit her with something that had even more momentum.
“Today, I’m going to go back and time and fuck all of the presidents,” I said.
“In order?” she asked, then, “Do you think you could turn him straight? Like one of those camps?”
“I’m not joking,” I said. “And, ew, that’s a shitty way to treat someone.”
“I’m just saying those camps have, like, a five percent success rate...”
“Sandra, you’re not listening. My organization has developed a time machine, and I’m going to use it to go back in time and fuck the presidents.”
“Ok, hon. Maybe you don’t need more sex, ‘cause you’re acting crazy,” she said. “So did he use his mouth at all?”
Like I said: freight train. Inertia. Suddenly, I had an idea.
“I can go back in time. I can prove it. Look at what’s in your purse,” I said. No, I pleaded. It had gone beyond mere “saids,” because the Sandy Train had reached its top speed.
“Fine. Lipstick. Wallet. Keys. Vibrator—don’t ask, it’s a Mogul thing—and a phone,” she said as she dug through.
“Are you sure that’s it?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s it. What’s up with that Kyle guy? He seemed nice. He was really interested in The Mogul after you left,” she said.
I went to the apartment door and opened it. “Put it out there,” I commanded.
“Seriously? No. My phone’s in there.”
“It’ll only be out there for a minute. 30 seconds, even. You can time it,” I scowled.
“Fine, but if...” she began.
“Wait, name something, any noun. When we open the door....”
“White motherfucking tiger!” she screamed. Goddamn tiger moms.
“No, something...something small,” I said.
“Alessandro’s dick!” she squealed.
“No, goddammit Sandra. Be serious, something like a rock or a ball or a stick,” I pleaded.
“Stick and balls! Man, you need some cock,” she was doubled over, laughing. “OK ok ok, let’s say a happy cat figurine from Chinatown. Easy enough? I want one of those for Josie’s room anyway.”
“Put it outside the door and lock it, then come over here,” I commanded.
She began chanting to the tune of Mr. Sandman, “Oh time-traveler, bring me a kitty. Make it the cutest, Josie’s ever seen.” She closed and locked the door behind her then walked to me. “Do I need to, like, count to 30?”
A knock at the door, then scuffling feet. Sandra yelped. There was good old “I” wanting to fuck things up for Old-Alice. I held Sandra’s hand tightly as she strained against me.
“Someone just stole my phone, and I’m going to make YOU tell The Mogul,” she screeched.
“Go check your bag,” I said.
She shuffled her feet across the floor, unlocked the door, opened it. As she lifted the purse, a single syllable:
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” then she took a breath, “nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.”
She pulled the happy kitty figuring out of the purse, showing me the bottom. It read “Josie.”
“I don’t want to do them in order or anything, but I think it’s only right to start with George Washington. He is father of our country, and I do have daddy issues,” I said. For once, Sandra was speechless.
To find out what happens to Alice on her adventure, click the photo below to get the next three volumes of the series!
All The Presidents’ Beds BUNDLE!
About the Author
Kit Helix is a former museum docent who decided she enjoyed history’s dirty, sexy secrets more than history’s boring, obvious secrets. You can reach her at kithelix@gmail.com.