Текст книги "Futures and Frosting"

Автор книги: Tara Sivec

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5.  Suck for a Buck

Friday night is finally here and the work week is over.  Not that I really have anything to complain about in that regard.  I own my own business (someone pinch me!), and every moment I spend in the shop makes me happy.  But even when you love what you do, it’s still nice to forget about it for a few hours.

The minor freak-outs about Carter are pushed to the back of my mind since everything has been so perfect between us the last couple of days.  He doesn’t jump when I walk into the room anymore, and he isn’t whispering on the phone when I get out of the shower.  A normal woman would probably suspect cheating, but not me.  I had already followed him a few times and checked his text messages.

Seriously.  Don’t judge me.

Gavin is spending the night at my dad’s house, so as soon as I get home from work, I pack his overnight bag and then got ready for the party.  I still haven’t stopped thanking Liz after she informed me that she didn’t want a traditional bachelorette party where a group of girls get in a limo and go to a strip club.

Thank God.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for getting liquored up and heading to a female strip club, but a male one?  That’s just gross.  Have you been to an all male strip club before?  These oily, long-haired, jacked up on steroid men come prancing out in banana hammocks, thrust their hips in your face, and dry hump your leg.  It’s disgusting.  Have you ever had a sweaty man you don’t know rub his penis on your knee?  It makes me throw up in my mouth a little just thinking about it.  And let’s be honest here, the penis – not the prettiest thing in the world to look at.  If it’s some guy who calls himself the Italian Stallion, wearing a Speedo with the Italian flag on it, dancing to the theme song from 'The Jersey Shore', while he has one foot up on your knee and hip thrusts his dangling... Okay, I’m just going to stop myself right there before Carter finds me curled up in the fetal position in the corner mumbling about Italian penis, and he thinks I’m saying “penne” and doesn’t understand why pasta is making me cry.

As I was saying, Liz doesn’t want any of that.  She wants to rent a nice limo bus and go to a few local wineries.  I’m pretty sure the evening will still include inappropriate behavior, but at least it won’t also include ruining a man’s self esteem by pointing and laughing at his junk.  Unless of course Drew decides to get naked for some reason.  I can’t be responsible for my actions at that point and it won’t be my fault of he cries.

Once Carter and I are dressed and ready to go, we placed Gavin in the car and head over to my dad’s to drop him off.

When we stop at a red light, Carter takes one hand off of the wheel and places it on the inside of my bare thigh.

“You wore that short skirt just to torture me, didn’t you?” Carter asks softly so Gavin won’t hear him from the backseat.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say with a smirk as I cross my legs.  The movement forced his warm hand higher up my thigh and his fingers graze just under the hem of the tattered jean skirt material.

I'm not lying when I say I kind of enjoy the fact that Carter and I work opposite shifts.  I like the peace and quiet during the week and spending alone time with Gavin.  It makes the adjustment from being a single mother to living with the father of my child not so bad.  I had spent so many years on my own and having my son all to myself, it was nice we weren’t thrust right into something that was a complete one-eighty from what we were used to.  Even so, it doesn’t stop me from missing Carter during the week.

Or more specifically, missing having sex with Carter during the week.

When you have sex once, get pregnant, and then go years before you ever have it again and when you do have it again, it’s mind-blowing and delicious and better than finding a pot of gold, a unicorn, and a leprechaun who shits diamonds at the end of a rainbow, having to wait a whole week in between having this wonderful sex is torture.  Just having Carter’s hand on my leg puts all sorts of dirty thoughts in my head – thoughts that have no business being there when our son was in the backseat.

“I think you and I are going to need to make an important phone call tonight,” Carter says with a wag of his eyebrows.

I laugh, remembering the first time we had sex again after the night he took my virginity at the frat party.

When Gavin had knocked on the bedroom door right at the tail end of our reunion (emphasis on union) and then asked us what we were up to, in a panic I told him we were making phone calls.  It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

I place my hand on top of Carter’s and slide it just a little bit further under the edge of my skirt.

“You missed a lot of phone calls this week while you were at work.  I had to take care of them on my own.  My phone has a dead battery now,” I tease him.

“Did you record these phone calls?  That’s something I’d like to listen to,” he says with a wink before turning his focus back to the road as the light turns green.

“Sorry, the answering machine doesn’t have a battery either,” I joke.

“Probably because you took the batteries out of every single major appliance in a five-mile-radius and put them in your phone,” Carter replies with a sneer.

“Don’t be jealous because the phone gets more time with me during the week than you do,” I console him with a pat on his hand.

“I’m not jealous.  I just used my Palm PDA.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Your Palm PDA is no match for my…Vtech Cordless,” I stammer.

What are we even talking about anymore?  Is there a point when innuendos jump the shark?

“I know what you guys are doin’ when you make a phone call,” Gavin pipes up nonchalantly from the backseat.

You know how when you’ve told a lie and someone catches you in it your face gets all hot and you get butterflies in your stomach?  It’s ten times worse when it’s your own freaking toddler calling you out and looking at you like, “Are you kidding me with this shit?”

“Heh, heh! What do you mean, buddy?” Carter asks, laughing nervously.

He looks at me and I look at him, and we both look in the backseat at Gavin.  Thank God we are stopped at another red light.  I don’t think Carter can be trusted to keep the car in our lane at this moment.  Frankly, I don’t think I can be trusted not to open up the door and jump out.  TUCK AND ROLL!

I’m going to have to tell my son about the birds and the bees in the car on the way to my father’s house.  I don’t even get the term, “the birds and the bees”.  How does that properly teach a kid about sex?  You never see a pigeon railing a dove or a honey bee sticking it to a bumble bee.  They really need to call it, “the cows and the horses”.  Just the other day we drove by a farm and one cow was mounted up on another cow and Gavin said, “Awww look, Mommy.  That cow is giving the other cow a hug!”  I could have explained it easily then.  I could have used correct terminology like penis and sperm and fertilization.  It was a farm for fuck’s sake.  That sort of stuff can be seen every two feet between goats and pigs and roosters and chickens.  I could have given him plenty of examples.  But then I would have to answer the age old question about which came first, the chicken or the egg and that question still boggles MY mind.  Now I’m going to have to make up some type of analogy that has to do with phones.  “First, you pull the antenna out so it’s nice and long, then you push the right buttons so the other phone is in the mood to make a call…”

I can’t do this.  I’m not ready for this.  He’s too young to know about long distance phone calls and roaming charges!

“M-o-o-o-o-m!  Did you hear me?  I said I know what you guys are doin’ when you make phone calls,” Gavin repeats.

Sure, go ahead and repeat it.  Obviously you need to make sure we are sufficiently freaked out.  CHILDREN ARE THE DEVIL.

Maybe if I just completely ignore the situation, he’ll forget about it.  I turned on the radio, frantically searching for a song he knows that he can butcher the lyrics to.

Why is there so much fucking talk radio at five o’clock in the evening?

“Ooooh, this is a good song, Gavin!  Do you know this song?” I ask overenthusiastically.

Carter looks at me like I'm insane as Kenny G notes filled the car.

Fucking Kenny G.  Couldn’t you record ONE song with some lyrics?  Michael Bolton taught you nothing.  Epic fail, Kenny.  Epic fail.

“You guys always lock your door when you make phone calls,” Gavin says.

Son of a bitch, Kenny G!  You put everyone to sleep but my son.  The ONE thing you had going for you and now it’s gone to shit.

“You guys kiss in there, don’t you?” Gavin asks.

I stop swaying to beat of Kenny G and shut off the BIC Lighter App on my phone, noticing that Carter is still looking at me funny.  It’s like he’s never met me.  I'm trying to get Gavin’s mind off of fertilization and bees fucking pigeons!

“YES!” Carter shouts.  “That’s exactly what we do.  We kiss.  That’s all we do.  Just kiss.  Sometimes Mommy and Daddy need to lock the door so we can kiss.  And…just kiss. What else would we do in there besides kiss?  Ha ha!  Mommy and Daddy sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-”

I reach over and squeeze his arm to get him to stop talking as we pull into my dad’s driveway.  Gavin unbuckles his seatbelt and scrambles out of the car to race to my dad, his attention already diverted.  My dad scoops him up into his arms and meets us at the car as Carter gets Gavin’s overnight bag out of the backseat, and I stand by my open door, breathing a sigh of relief that Sex Ed with our four-year-old is finally over.

“Hey, Papa!  Mommy and Daddy lock their door so they can kiss!” Gavin tells him excitedly.

My dad looks a little grossed out and quickly changes the subject.

“I got that movie 'Gnomeo and Juliet' for us to watch tonight,” he tells Gavin.

Sadly, Gavin isn’t going to be deterred even for garden gnomes that come to life and ass rape a small community while they sleep.  I’m sure that’s not what really happens in a children’s movie, but in my mind it is.  Garden gnomes are creepy.  I firmly believe they come to life after you go to bed at night and violate you.

“Mommy and Daddy make a lot of noise when they kiss.  Mommy talks to God a lot.  I talk to God sometimes too.  I asked him for a puppy and a new monster truck but I was nice and didn’t yell at him like Mommy does.  He still hasn’t gotten me the puppy though.”

And on that note, we kiss Gavin good-bye, jump into the car, and take off.  My dad can deal with the birds and the bees and cows and the chickens and the kissing horses while visions of his daughter screaming for Jesus dance in his head.

We pull up to Liz and Jim’s house fifteen minutes later and park in the street behind the biggest limo bus I’ve ever seen.  Liz had told me she rented something small and modest to drive us around so we wouldn’t have to worry about ruining someone’s night and forcing them to be our designated driver.  Obviously her version of small and modest differ greatly from mine.  This thing could house an entire football team with room to spare.

“It’s about time you two fuckers got here!” Drew yells as he meets us at the end of the driveway, tossing a beer through the air towards Carter.

In honor of the wine tours that evening, Drew dons a shirt with a picture of a corkscrew on the front that reads, “I pull out.”

We walk up the bus steps to join everyone else, noticing they are all well on their way toward getting drunk, everyone except Liz.  She is all alone at the very back of the bus with her arms folded and a scowl on her face.

I take one look at her and know I had made it there just in time.

How could this have happened?  Why wasn’t anyone helping my poor friend?

Leaving Carter at the front of the bus with Drew, Jim, and Jenny, I hurry down the aisle and sit down next to Liz.

“Who did this to you?” I ask angrily as I wrap my arm around her shoulder.

She looks at me and I swear I see her lip quiver.

“It’s okay. You can tell me.  We’ll fix it,” I reassure her as I rub soothing circles on her back.

I see hope flare in her eyes, and I know she's going to be fine. I will make this better for her if it’s the last thing I do.

“My mother!  It was her.  It was all her!” she wails in anguish.

I quickly glance to the front of the bus, fearing that just thinking about Mrs. Gates will suddenly make her appear.  Forget bridezilla! Mrs. Gates is mother-of-the-bridezilla.  She is the biggest wedding Nazi in the world.  Every single wedding tradition, old wives tale, ritual, and custom, Mary Gates believes in it, practices it, and forces everyone around her to participate in it.

Right now, my poor best friend is wearing a rhinestone tiara with a veil attached, a sash across the front of her that reads, “Bride to Be”, and underneath that sash, a tee-shirt with individually wrapped suckers strategically attached directly on top of her boobs.  In bright pink glitter puff paint are the words, “Suck for a Buck”.

“I’m in bachelorette party hell!” Liz screeches.

I reach over and started plucking suckers off of her boobs.

“It’s okay; I’m going to get you out of this,” I tell her.

“Claire Donna Morgan, I hope you’re giving my daughter a dollar for every one of those suckers you are removing from her shirt!”

It's like something out of a movie.  The music that pumps out of the limo’s speakers screeches to a halt and all of the laughter from our friends immediately dies.

“Run!  Save yourself!” Liz whispers loudly as she tries to shove me away from her.

I slowly stand up and put on a brave face, letting my friend know that I will take one for the team.  I will stand in between her and sudden bachelorette party death.  I turn around just in time to be bum rushed in the aisle.

“Can you believe my baby is getting married?!” Mrs. Gates squeals as she throws a sash over my head that reads, “Maid-of-Honor” before I can blink.

She pulls me into a tight hug, bouncing me up and down like we're long lost sorority sisters, the cloying scent of White Diamonds perfume surrounding me and threatening to make my eyes water.

Where my family is more along the lines of the Connor family from the show Roseanne, Alice’s family leans more toward The Brady Bunch.

On crack.

Or maybe acid.

Which is the one that makes you see fuzzy bunnies singing about lollypops and kittens and puppies frolicking on a rainbow?

“Claire, I am entrusting you to make sure my baby has a great time tonight,” Mrs. Gates says sternly as she pulls away from me and thrusts a piece of paper in my hand.  “This is a treasure hunt for Liz.  You have to make sure she does every single thing on the list before the night is out.  I’ve been told this is all the rage with you young people.”

Don’t look down at the list; don’t look down at the list.

“Well, don’t just stand there, Claire.  Look at the list!” Mrs. Gates demands excitedly.

“Get a stranger to give you his underwear,” I mutter, reading the first line.

Mrs. Gates squeals like little girl.  “Oh my gosh this is going to be a hoot!  Keep reading!”

I take a deep breath, forcing the vomit that had lodged itself in my throat to remain where it is and not splatter all over the piece of paper in my hand.

On second thought…no list equals no scavenger hunt.

“And don’t worry, I made enough copies for everyone!” Liz’s mom says enthusiastically as she pulls a handful of papers out of her purse and starts passing them out.

I cover my hand over my mouth as I scan the list.  No point in puking now.  I’ll never be able to projectile vomit far enough to reach all the copies.

Find a guy with an accent.

Meet a guy with the same name as the groom and take a picture with him.

Make out with one of the bridesmaids.

I really don’t think I should be sober for this right now.

“Mrs. Gates, you are looking positively radiant this evening.  Have I mentioned that yet?” Jim states sweetly as he comes up behind his future mother-in-law and puts his arm around her shoulder.

“Now, don’t try and distract me, James.  I’ve got something for you too,” she says as she unfolds a baseball hat that said “Groom” on it and places it on his head.

“Folks, if this is everyone, I need you all to take your seats so we can leave,” the limo driver informs us as he pokes his head in the door of the bus.

“Well, I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Mrs. Gates says as she stands there, not making any attempt at moving.

She glances around at everyone expectantly, waiting for someone to beg her to stay and join us.

No one speaks.

Or moves.  There might have even been an uncomfortable cough that I think came from the driver.

“Okay….well…you kids have fun now!” she finally says as she walks to the door of the bus.  “Oh my goodness, I almost forgot the most important thing!”

She turns back around and rushes down the aisle towards Liz.  Everyone groans quietly.

Mrs. Gates stops in front of her daughter and reaches into the giant suitcase she calls a purse and pulls out a penis.  Or should I say, “penis products.”  Lots and lots of penis products, things I didn’t even know they made in the shape of a penis, and now I will have to bleach my eyes at the thought of Liz’s mom walking into a store and purchasing these items:

A candy necklace full of sugary penises, a penis-shaped water bottle, a penis-shaped pacifier that she decides needed to be tied around my neck.

Yes, I am absolutely going to stay classy this evening.

But she isn’t done yet, oh no.  Next out of her bag of tricks: penis-shaped pasta.  Seriously?  What the fuck do we need with a bag of penis-shaped pasta on a limo bus?  We’re not going to fill a pan with some water from the tiny bathroom at the back of the bus and stick it on the engine to boil it so we can make macaweenie and cheese.

She hands Jenny a box of penis gummies that Drew tells her to open up immediately because he wants to hear her say, “This penis tastes so good.”  Last but not least, she hands everyone different colored rubber penis pen caps.  Because you know, at some point during the night there might be an emergency that calls for someone to write a note using only a pen with a penis pen cap.

I should check the scavenger hunt.  It could be on the list.

Mrs. Gates looks like a perverted Mary Poppins pulling penises out of her carpet bag.  I'm waiting for her to pull out a penis-shaped lamp or a penis-shaped coat stand.  When she finally emptied her bag of all things phallic, she steps off of the bus and we all let out sighs of relief—and then we rip every single sash, hat, veil, and suck for a buck item off of us.

Drew pours everyone a shot of Tequila Rose (in penis shot glasses, of course) and passes them out.

“What is this pussy shit?”  Jim asks as he sniffs the thick, pink liquid in his shot glass.

“It smells like strawberry milk,” I say with a cringe.  I don’t know about anyone else, but milk and liquor just does not sound like it should go together.

“It tastes like strawberry milk too.  And it’s good shit.  I thought I’d start us off with something girly tonight so know one hurls in the first hour,” Drew explains.

We all nod in understanding.  No one wants to be the first one to puke.

The six of us sit at the back of the bus around the semi-circle leather couch.  We raise our shot glasses in the air until they all clink together in the middle.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Drew says.  “Here’s to you, here’s to me – fuck you, here’s to me!”

We all down the shots as the bus starts up and pulls away from the curb.

6.  Back Door Action

Oh.  My.  God.  What is that noise?  WHAT IS THAT NOISE??

It feels like someone is screaming in my ear with a bullhorn.  I let out a groan, roll over, and pull the covers up over my head in an effort to stop it from exploding.

Sweet Jesus what did I do last night?

“CLAIRE!  For fuck’s sake shut your alarm clock off!”

The yelling from Liz on the other side of my door makes me cringe.  I pull the covers down just far enough so I can squint at my alarm clock.

Sure enough, the sound that's threatening to make my ears bleed is coming from that little bastard on our dresser across the room.

The repetitive flash of the time, its bright red numbers, and the staccato beeping on that thing makes me think its judging me. I can hear it– tequila, shots, vodka, karaoke, you’re an idiot.

“Carter,” I mumble.

Jesus, my voice sounds like I swallowed a bucket full of gravel.  It feels that way too.

“Carter,” I groan again.  “Shut off the alarm clock.”

With my squinty eye, I turn my head as slowly as possible and see the spot next to me in bed is empty.

“Shit.”

I stick my arm out from under my cocoon and grab the first thing my fingers touch on my nightstand—a vibrator with a leash on it.  It’s a sad, sad day when something like this doesn’t faze me.  I whip it across the room and watch the giant pink rubber penis and its diamond-studded leash crash into the alarm clock and effectively shut it up.

Small bursts of memories from last night flash through my addled brain and make me wish I can have a lobotomy.

Did I sing “Like a Virgin” at a winery?  And why am I not wearing any underwear?

With my eyes squeezed shut so the bright rays of sun shining through the window don’t light them on fire, I stumble out of bed and throw on a pair of yoga pants that are crumpled on the floor. I slowly make my way out of the bedroom and into the living room.

“Yo, Claire Bear!  You’re alive!” Drew shouts from his spot on the couch as I peel my eyes open and gave him the finger for being so cheerful and not hung-over.

How is that possible? He drank way more than me.  I think.  And why is he in our living room?  I’m going to start charging this asshole rent.

I stare at the annoying smile on Drew’s face and another memory from last night assaults me as I walk up to the kitchen table and pull out a chair.

“Why do I remember you peeing somewhere in this house?” I ask with my gravelly voice that I hope is just from yelling and singing and not from puking somewhere I can’t recall.

“Did you pee on this chair?” I ask angrily as my ass hovers above the seat cushion.

“Yes, he peed in that chair,” Liz answers as she emerges from the laundry room off of the kitchen.

“Fuck, it’s like we have a puppy,” I mutter as I move to take a seat at one of the bar stools by the island instead.

“I didn’t pee that bad on it,” Drew complains as he walks into the kitchen and makes a show of looking really hard at the chair in question.

“There is no GOOD level of pee on a chair, Drew!” I yell as I take the glass of water and aspirin Liz had set down on the counter in front of me. I throw the pills in my mouth and chug the entire glass of water.

I hear the faint sound of music coming from somewhere and realize my purse is singing the theme song from “Golden Girls”.  Liz and Drew start cracking up behind me as I reach to the end of the island and grab my purse, realizing by their snickers that one of them must have changed my ring tone.

I dig through my purse trying to find the damn phone before that fucking song is stuck in my head all day.

“…..traveled down the road and back again.  Your heart is true; you’re a pal and a confidant…”

My hand finally wraps around the offending cell phone and I quickly hit the send button to stop the song before I even get it out of my purse.

“Hello?” I turn around to glare at Liz and Drew, mouthing the words “What the fuck?” to them silently as I answer the phone.  That just causes them to laugh even harder.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be awake yet after last night.”

The sound of Carter’s voice makes me forget that my so-called friends put some stupid ass song on my phone that I won’t be able to stop humming now.

“Did we have sex last night?” I ask, having no shame whatsoever in the fact that I don’t remember.  Generally, I like to know why I wake up with no pants or underwear on.  It’s just a little quirk I have.

“Are you referring to before or after we got home?” he asks.

“Uh, both?”

Carter sighs. “I don’t think you’re awake or sober enough to discuss the sex we had before we got home.  After…well, I do believe sex was the general idea until I got your clothes off and you puked on me.”

“Ooooh, sorry about that,” I apologize sheepishly.

“It’s my fault. I should have never introduced you to Drew,” he replies jokingly.

“He peed on our chair,” I complain, giving Drew the two-finger eye salute.

“You puked on my dick,” Carter deadpans.

“Fine, you win,” I say with a sigh.  “So where are you?”

“DUDE!  LET ME TELL HER ABOUT THE BACK DOOR ACTION ON THE BUS!” Drew yells into the phone as he comes up next to me.

I turn to look at Drew with a horrified look on my face.

“What are you talking about?” I ask him.  “Carter, what the fuck is he talking about?” I screech into the phone.  “Oh Jesus.  Did I let you…did we…OH MY GOD WE DID THAT ON A BUS SURROUNDED BY OUR FRIENDS?”

The laughter comes from all around me now.  Liz bends over so far in hysterics that she’s fallen on the floor; Drew wipes tears out of his eyes as he leans against the counter, and Carter was snorting on the other end of the phone.

“No!  No, it’s not what you’re thinking.  Even though you begged me repeatedly saying, ‘Come on just stick it in my ass!’ I figured that was not a decision you were making with one hundred percent clarity.  Tell me you at least remember being in the bathroom with me,” Carter begs.

I put my elbows up on the counter and lean my head against one hand, closing my eyes to try and conjure up the bathroom rendezvous Carter speaks of.

Everyone piles back on the bus after the third winery, a little louder and a lot drunker.  Carter slumps onto the leather bench, pulling me down next to him until I am practically sprawled on top of him with my chest resting against his.  He holds my face in both of his hands, and as the bus starts moving and our friends start yelling and goofing off in the front of the vehicle, he leans in and kissed me.  His tongue slowly pushes past my lips and sweeps through my mouth causing butterflies to erupt in the pit of my stomach and warmth to spread between my legs.  After a few minutes he pulls his mouth away from mine, and I let out a groan at the loss.

“You wanna go in the bathroom?” Carter asks with a wag of his eyebrows.

“No.  I don’t have to pee right now,” I tell him as I leaned toward him so I can kiss him again.  He tastes so yummy, like wine and sunshine and kittens.

“I’m not talking about going to the bathroom to GO to the bathroom.  I’m talking about going to the bathroom so I can stick it to you,” he says with a snort and a laugh.

“You’re so romantic.  Say it again,” I tell him as I bat my eyelashes at him.

Carter looks over my shoulder and then back down at me.

“Seriously.  No one is looking.  We could sneak into the bathroom and no one would even know.  I’ll make it quick.”

“No really, keep going.  This is totally turning me on,” I tell him in a monotone voice.

Carter pulls my face back toward him and our lips crash together.  His tongue skates over my bottom lip before plunging back into my mouth.  The pain of the week-long exiles while we work opposite shifts have become glaringly obvious as we deepened the kiss, and I practically crawl onto his lap.

Carter’s hand slides down the side of my body, brushing over one breast and curving over my hip to clutch my ass and pull me closer to him.  He moves his mouth away from my lips and starts planting warm, wet, open-mouthed kisses along my neck and collarbone until I feel like I'll melt into a puddle of goo on the floor of the bus.  He gently grazes the side of my neck with his teeth and slides his tongue over the spot.  I'm panting like a dog at this point and know I won’t make it much longer.  If he keeps this up, I'm going to throw him down on the seat and bang him in front of everyone.

“Okay, fine.  You win.  Bathroom.  Now,” I mumble through my drunken, lust-induced haze.

We stand up quickly and stumble our way to the tiny bathroom directly across from us.  I vaguely hear one of the girls shout, “NO, no, no!  I have to pee!” before we slam the door closed and fumble with the sliding lock.  The bathroom is about the size of an airplane bathroom so maneuverability is nil.  Carter’s body is pressed up against my back and he begins kissing and sucking on the back of my neck as I try in vain to get the stupid lock to slide closed.

“I can’t get the fucking door to lock!” I complain through moans of pleasure as he brings his hands around my waist and slides them up my body until they cup both of my breasts.

“Fuck it.  I think it locks automatically anyway.  That slide thing is just for the little sign on the outside that switches to 'occupied' or some shit.  Everyone already knows we’re in here,” Carter says as he starts massaging my breasts.

We turn as one so I can rest my hands on the edge of the sink and Carter can lift my skirt.  A quick breaking of the bus makes me jerk forward and slam my shoulder into the wall above the sink.

“Son of a bitch!” I yell.  “This is going to be dangerous.”

I giggle as Carter slides his hands back down my sides and grazes over a particularly ticklish spot.

“You’re not supposed to be laughing.  This is supposed to be awesome and hot,” he states as his hands slide down my thighs and then immediately back up, pushing my skirt up to my hips as he went.

“Oh believe me, it’s totally hot,” I say with another giggle as the bus takes off and we fall backwards.  Carter falls on top of the toilet, and I landed on his lap with an “oooomph”.

“Okay, this might not have been one of our best ideas,” I say with a laugh as I try to get up but the bus takes a curve and we both crash our shoulders into the wall on the left right beneath the little bathroom window.

“Dammit!  We WILL have sex in this thing if it kills us,” Carter states as he pushes me off of his lap and stands back up behind me.

“Carter, I think this IS going to kill us.  My dad is going to have to tell his friends that his daughter died in a limo bus bathroom with her skirt up around her hips.  That is not okay!”