Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
To be fair, he would likely feel the same way if he knew about my scrapbooking obsession.
We all had our things, I guess.
“Nut sedge. Bad weed,” he explained. “Gardeners can’t get a handle on it.”
“And the lawn has to be perfect for the wedding season.”
“Yep. Thought I saw you when I was walking up. Came in just as you ripped the poor schmuck’s cock off.”
A little snort escaped me at that.
“It’s a disaster. They’re going to be here any minute.”
“No expert, but… slush plus time seems like it would turn to ice quick.”
“Right. Yeah. Like… ice glue. Okay. I can do that. Thanks.”
To that, he gave me a nod.
“I’ll leave you to your various dicks,” he said, gesturing around me.
“It’s a, uh…”
“Divorce party?”
“Exactly.”
“I’m out in these streets too. She hot?”
There was no stopping the eye roll at that. Even after a lifetime of being around the bikers, their borderline obsession with casual sex never ceased to amaze me.
“She sure is. She has the most gorgeous gray hair.” She was about sixty. With that effervescent gorgeousness I sincerely hoped I would possess at her age.
“Good pussy is good pussy,” he said with a shrug.
The slap to his chest was pure instinct, something I would have done to any number of my male cousins for the same vulgar comment.
His smirk was just as knee-jerk.
“While I appreciate that you are an equal opportunity hornball, I need to fix my sculpture before everyone gets here.”
“Yeah, better hurry up before he loses an inch. What is he, thirteen inches?”
“It’s… a book thing,” I admitted. “It’s why his skin is blue too.”
I went ahead and left out how the recent divorcee claimed in our first meeting that she hadn’t realized just how unsatisfying her sex life had been with her husband until she joined a local book club. Their first read? An alien romance with a giant penis and very impressive oral skills.
She was a changed woman.
A few months (and many books later) she was a single woman, ready to reclaim her sex life.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that, in my experience, book men were a lot more, well, generous than real-life men.
“Of course it’s a—” he started. Only to get interrupted when one of the servers came over with a tray full of cupcakes topped with painfully accurate penises on top. Veins and pink coloring and everything.
Perish looked down at them, over at me, huffed out a laugh, then turned and walked away.
It was just as well.
Because a moment later, the lady who was providing the sex toys started setting up her table. I would never admit it aloud, but I knew the function of each and every one of those items. Even the tentacled types.
Thanks, Aunt Peyton.
Besides, I had an ice penis to fix.
I rushed into the kitchen to throw the slushy mix together and ran back to the sculpture and said a little prayer as I started the process of reattaching the appendage to the ice man.
Was there a slight little uneven line? Sure. But the guests were quickly drunk enough not to notice. And when the penis eventually started to melt and fell off? Well, the divorcee went ahead and popped it into her drink.
It was a loud, hilarious, raunchy party featuring—mostly—the book club that changed the divorcee’s life. And I knew from personal experience with the bookish women in my own life that the book readers were the closet freaks. And their flags were flying high and proud all night.
My cheeks actually hurt from smiling by the time the lights dimmed. And the man dressed as a server came strutting out of the back to the first throbbing bass beats of some filthy song streaming out from the speakers.
Embarrassment crept up my spine as he started to thrust in the divorcee’s face, making me slowly make my way toward the kitchen, then out the service door.
The performer was supposed to be dancing for a solid twenty minutes. No one was going to need me while he was out there stripping off his clothes and doing impressively gymnastic dance moves.
The spring air still had that slight nip to it, which immediately chased the heat from my cheeks and neck.
I sucked in a deep breath, wiggled some of the tension out of my shoulders, and looked out at the sunset, casting the world in brilliant orange.
I never understood the hate orange got.
I guess we could blame that awful traffic cone shade.
But nature’s oranges? Sunrises, sunsets, leaves in the fall, butterfly wings? There were so many beautiful shades.
I took a few steps forward to change my vantage point, looking out across the sprawling, perfectly manicured lawns, the woods behind them.
I’d always loved this venue. Part of it was the raw natural beauty, including a gorgeous koi pond that acted as the backdrop to many a wedding or engagement photoshoot.