by C. A. Harms
Mystery Guy, as I’d decided to call him for now, was very good looking. Tall, just how I like them, and dark hair, long enough to tug on when he was doing nasty things to me.
Just the thought of those things turned me on.
It was then I realized the multiple shots I had consumed were beginning to have an effect.
He’d been watching me close for the last hour. Each question that had been asked was just another small piece of the mystery solved.
He was experienced, but not overly experienced. Which meant there was room to explore.
I liked that idea.
“So what was with that question you asked?” Marcus spoke again and suddenly I felt the heat rise in my neck and cheeks.
I didn’t drink often but I found that it seemed to make me more adventurous and, um, horny, apparently.
“Morgan?” I pulled my stare away from the guy and faced Marcus. “The question?” he asked again, reminding me that I had yet to respond.
“What question?” I asked, as if lost to what he was meant. But I knew.
“You know exactly what question I’m referring to,” he added, daring me to argue. “The one about hooking up with someone you just met.” He wasn’t going to give me the chance to skate around the subject any longer.
“Oh that question.” I shrugged. “You did insist I have a little fun. He looks like fun,” I said, wagging my eyebrows suggestively.
“Honey, he looks like a whole lot of fun,” Marcus corrected. “Maybe even a little too much for an innocent like you.”
“Maybe I’m not so innocent,” I said, looking away from Marcus and back toward the guy, who was now preoccupied with the obvious twins he’d walked in with.
“Maybe you think I’m an idiot.” Marcus nudged me with his shoulder. “Because, Morgan, I know you, and you don’t do one night stands.”
Without looking back at him, I lifted the shot glass to my lips and tilted it back. It burnt on the way down, but I did my best to hide it. I had reached the point where I was feeling a good buzz.
I felt more confident than I normally did. More determined and definitely more cocky.
Lowering my glass to the table, I sat it down a little harder than I intended and it made a decently loud clank. But due to the noise of the room no one else seemed to pick up on my lack of judgement.
“Well it’s time I turn over a new leaf,” I stated as I pushed back and began to round the table.
It was as if Mystery Guy could feel me coming because he looked up and smiled.
“Hi,” I said and instantly regretted it.
I could do sultry. I could do the “let’s get naked now” look that I’d seen many girls use since I got there.
I laughed a little and I am sure I looked like an idiot.
Okay, who the hell was I kidding? I didn’t play games. I was terrible at them. I was the girl who said things before I thought them through. I shared what was on my mind the moment it arrived there without sugarcoating any of it.
So I should have just told the guy I wanted to hook up and move on.
But before I could do something that was so unlike me, I was pushed from behind and fell into his arms.
He gripped my waist tightly and turned his body, taking me with him as if to protect me from whatever it was that just barreled into my back.
“Whew!” A loud yelling filled the room. “Yeah baby, dick’s a swinging,” someone hollered, gaining everyone’s attention.
I looked around the guy’s body and I know my eyes widened to double their normal size.
There in the center of the room stood a tall, skinny guy, naked. He was swiveling his hips, making his manly parts swing around and around. A huge smile was on his face, but you could tell he was beyond loaded.
The best part about it was all the streamers he had tied around his waist, wrists, and ankles. It was almost as if he had decorated himself.
He kept chanting “Dick’s a swinging” as he wiggled his hips around and around. He was so lost. Completely inebriated.
And I think I was in shock. Does this shit really take place at parties? No wonder I did my best to avoid them.
“Holy shit,” I heard Mystery Guy say. His chest, on which my hand rested, unknown to me, shook with his laughter.
“Somebody needs to get Jay,” he said to the two guys standing at his side.
“Not me,” one responded quickly, backing away with his hands out to his sides.
“I sure as hell ain’t getting him,” the other twin said. “He’s fucking naked, man. I’m not touching that shit.”
I straightened myself and stepped back from the guy, but he kept his hand on my hip. I was now trapped in a really awkward situation I honestly just wanted to step away from.
Loud cheering broke out, regaining the attention of the three guys. I took the chance to sneak away.
I scurried off, hooked my arm in Marcus’s, and quickly dragged him from the room.
“Wait,” he argued, straining his neck to see the skinny guy who was still putting on a show. Only now he had moved on to break dancing, or his idea of break dancing.
All I knew was his feet were in the air, legs wide open, and I couldn’t stomach the thought of what that actually looked like. Things flipping around, completely open and displayed.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust and shivered as I pulled harder on Marcus.
I was thankful there was a wall of students blocking my view of the creepy show.
Chapter 7
Xavier
I spent the last hour looking for the blonde.
I had her right in my hands and then she was gone; I couldn’t find her anywhere.
Thanks to Jay and his weird fucked up naked dance. I mean, who the hell does that shit anyway?
“Dick’s a swinging.” What the fuck gave him the idea to decorate himself with streamers and streak through the house?
And he made sure every person saw him doing his dick swivel. I had to deal with that shit because no one else would touch him.
Not that I wanted to either.
He would never live this down. I lost track of the amount of students videotaping his show. I could guarantee that shit was live streaming across campus in minutes.
The hashtag “dicksaswinging” would follow him around for years. Freaky little fucker didn’t need to be drinking. You’d never guess that on a normal day the kid barely spoke. But give him a bottle of liquor and he lost his clothes and danced around a room, or a house in this case.
Clayton and Corbin decided they wanted nothing to do with Jay and his show, and since I was still partially sober, there was no way I could let it continue.
I did my best not to touch any parts of him below the waist, but I still felt like I needed a shower. Talk about sobering up quickly.
Now that the asshole was safely tucked in his bed, passed out for the night I hoped, I was in search of the girl. The sweet little blonde who was so close at one point. Firmly pressed against my chest looking up at me with those gorgeous green eyes.
I silently cursed Jay, because if I lost my chance with her, he’d pay dearly for it.
I entered the kitchen to find the twins standing about ten feet apart facing one another. A small audience had gathered. What the hell is happening now?
Just then something went sailing through the air from Corbin’s hand toward Clayton.
Cheers erupted when Clayton caught it and held it up in the air. Something white.
“Now back it up,” Clayton yelled toward his brother. Each of them took another step back, gaining more empty space between them. “This one is coming in fast,” he stated.
Were they throwing baseballs in the house?
I started to step forward to tell them that wasn’t a good idea, but Clayton released the object and it connected with Corbin’s hands, splattering all over him.
“Dude, you broke it,” Corbin complained as he shook off the slimy mess.
“No, asshole, you broke it,” Clayton c
orrected.
The idiots were having a damn egg toss in the center of the kitchen. And once again I wondered how in the hell I got caught up in a house of weird fuckers.
Naked, egg tossing, dildo playing, eyebrow shaving weirdos.
I began to scan the room and found Red and Isaac both standing back laughing as the twins grabbed another egg from the carton on the counter and resumed their game.
“I’m winding up,” Corbin said, trying to maintain a serious face. “This one is coming in hot. A curve ball.”
“I’m ready,” Clayton insisted, crouching down in a catcher’s position.
Corbin turned sideways, lifted his leg, and with as much force as a dumbass who’d consumed the amount of alcohol he had could, he whipped the egg toward his brother.
Only it didn’t reach his brother’s hand.
Nope, not even close.
The room went silent, everyone staring at the oozing slime and the person who wore it.
Red.
And by the look on his face he was already planning Corbin’s death. His once bushy red afro was now flat on one side as the yellow yolk dripped down his face.
Elijah, slowly and scarily I might add, stepped forward and leaned over. We just knew when the man took a tackling stance, the one he used every game. We were in trouble.
With eyes wide as saucers, Corbin began to back away, shaking his head.
“Red.” He held his hands out before him, as if that would stop Elijah. “I’m sorry, man, I’m really sorry.”
But his apologies did nothing to stop the attack. Red reared back, and with one big, heaving push-off, he charged toward Corbin. The best fucking part of it was Corbin’s banshee squeals. He ran in the opposite direction, arms flailing like a damn girl. You could hear him wailing in the next room until one high pitched squeal echoed throughout the house.
“Touchdown,” someone yelled out, followed by cheers and laughter. I knew for a fact Corbin would feel that in the morning.
And the day after, too.
***
I’d given up and come to the conclusion that the girl from earlier was gone. I’d looked everywhere and still no blonde with gorgeous eyes.
But unfortunately Britney was still there.
Lucky us.
She was still trying to gain my attention, and for what, I wasn’t sure.
I grabbed a bottle of tequila and a shot glass and moved upstairs to a quieter area. If I was gonna get drunk, I’d do it somewhere away from Red. But honestly, I was hoping he had long ago forgotten my earlier torment and replaced it with his hate for the twins.
Well, at least for Corbin and his wild pitch.
I moved through the hallway, and when I reached my room I placed the key in the lock and twisted it.
Once I was inside I made sure to lock it back and sat back on my bed, leaning against the headboard.
Opting out of the glass, I went straight for the bottle instead.
Chapter 8
Morgan
I was completely aware of my surroundings. Aware of the fact that the girl next to me had her head resting on my shoulder. And she had for some time now, as she went on and on about her crush on some guy named Isaac.
The weird part about it was that it didn’t bother me as much as it would have had I been sober.
And by the look on Marcus’ face, he was equally surprised.
“He’s just so dreamy,” the girl slurred. “And we hooked up once, but now he just acts like he doesn’t know me. And I’m wondering what I did wrong,” she whined, stretching her words out in long exaggerated tones.
I didn’t have the heart to tell the girl that she fucked him, so there was her answer. College guys weren’t looking for long term, they wanted freedom. And she was wrong to expect more. But had he promised more? And if he had, well then that was where he was wrong.
That was what the logical piece of my mind, tucked way back deep was saying. But the drunk part, which definitely outweighed Ms. Logic, spoke instead. “Maybe you should make him jealous,” I said as I began scanning the room, looking for the poor bastard I was just about to push her off on. “Him,” I said, pointing to some guy. He was tall, and fairly good looking.
I jumped in surprise when the girl began to wail. Not a small quiet whine that only I would hear, but a high pitch squawking that made me feel like my fucking ears were bleeding type of squeal.
“That’s Isaac,” she wailed, as she curled into me further.
I looked toward Marcus for help and all he did was laugh. Hunched over holding his stomach and a deep laughter shook his entire body.
The dick was just loving this.
“Okay,” I said, patting her arm. “Maybe you should just talk to him.” I had no clue what it would take to get her off of me, but I knew I had to do it.
A moment ago I was feeling the buzz, loving the night, let’s dance and all that shit. But this girl—she was killing my happy feeling.
“Hey you,” I said, pointing toward another girl who looked equally as smashed as the girl lying at my side. I mean, the damn girl was clutching my arm in a death grip.
The other girl tried to focus on me and it took a second or two, but once she did, a smile crossed her lips. “Hey you,” she repeated. Much slower and more dragged out than when I said it, but I’d take it.
“Come over here with us.” I waved my hand, motioning in my direction.
I watched as she tried three times to get up off the couch before she finally stood. It took far too long for her to reach us, or maybe it was just my patience running thin.
But seriously, I could feel the anxiety in me rising.
When she flopped down in the empty space on the other side of Whiney Ass, who still held me tight, her head bounced back against the cushions behind her.
I nudged the girl who was apparently hung up on Isaac and she lifted her head. “Our new friend had an idea on how you can get Isaac to pay attention to you.”
Her face lit up and she immediately released my arm, turning around to face the other girl on her opposite side. She wrapped her arms around her and the other girl reciprocated, holding onto her with equal enthusiasm.
They began talking in hushed tones and I sagged back, instantly relieved.
When I looked at Marcus, he gazed between me and the two girls at my side before eventually focusing back on me once again.
“Evil,” he said shaking his head. “Pure evil.”
“No, genius,” I corrected as I pushed up off the couch and walked past him. It was time for another drink, because that scene was equivalent to six cups of coffee and I needed a jumpstart back to happy land.
Chapter 9
Xavier
I woke with a jerk.
I hadn’t meant to pass out, but as I looked around my room, I realized I had. Not truly aware of just how long I was sleeping.
Lifting the bottle of tequila, I was irritated to find it empty.
I had fully intended on staying in my room, spending the remainder of my evening with my friend, Jose. My friend who never tried to shave parts of my body, or tackle me and toss me in a pool. Jose only made me feel happy things.
Jose Cuervo was a good friend.
But plans change, and at that moment I was in need of more alcohol.
Now some may argue. They may insist that I’d had enough, but I begged to differ. I was feeling no pain.
I could still see clearly…well, kind of.
Granted there were now multiple dressers, and two doors that led from my room instead of one, but I could still see.
So as I said, I needed more booze.
I moved across my room, using the wall to lead me toward my door, and when I felt the handle in my hands, I was relieved. See, I could do this.
The music filtering up from downstairs was like a tidal wave. I had to step over several bodies, which took extreme concentration, but I made it. Just as I was about to attempt the stairs I heard laughter from behind me and turned around much too quickly
.
The hallway looked like one of those 1970s hippy videos where the background gets all squiggly and moves in a wave-like motion. That shit was not good for someone who had been drinking. Things that waved and rolled played with a drunk guy’s mind.
After an excessive amount of blinking to clear the fucking wiggling waves from my vision, things slowly began to come in clear.
And when they did, I just stared questionably at what I found before me. Mouth gaped open, eyes wide, still thinking I was suffering some hallucination brought on by the tequila I indulged in.
So what do you do, or anyone do, when they feel they are seeing things?
Well, you reach out to feel and make sure. Right?
“What the fuck are you doing, numb nuts?” Isaac asked as my hand rubbed over his face. “Get your hand off my face,” he said, shoving me away.
Nope, I was not hallucinating. This shit was real.
“What happened to you?” I finally asked, my head still spinning.
He looked pretty messed up, with his eyes all droopy and bloodshot.
He looked back at me, with confusion. But before he could question me and the weird way I was looking at him, someone else spoke.
“Nice look, man,” some guy said, gaining both my attention and Isaac’s. “Is that a dick?” the guy asked, pointing toward Isaac’s face.
“No, I think it’s a cigar,” the girl at his side said, moving in closer to inspect. “Nope,” she finally said after a few seconds of close inspection. “It is most definitely a dick.”
Isaac sagged back against the wall and I squinted my eyes, still trying to figure out if what I saw was real.
“What the hell are you all talking about?” Isaac asked.
A moment of silence set over our small accumulating group. Then I was the first to speak.
“Did you pass out?” I already knew that had to be the explanation.
“I think,” he mumbled, rubbing his hand over his face.
“You need to look in the mirror, because I think someone found you,” I told him, waiting for him to register what I’d said.
