Текст книги "Baking and Babies"
Автор книги: Tara Sivec
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
Chapter 18
– Hairball –
Marco
The door closes behind Molly and I watch her stalk towards me, looking so confident and beautiful that I almost can’t breathe. It’s deathly quiet in this room, especially compared to the one we just left filled with drunk women screaming and dancing on tables and loud, techno music that made my ears bleed. It’s too quiet and I can hear my heart pounding in my chest. I don’t want Molly to know I’m nervous to be alone with her. I want her to see me as strong and confident, not a pussy with sweaty palms. I was already on my way down here to see if she needed saved from bachelorette party hell, and as soon as I got her text telling me she got us a hotel room, I knew it was time for me to come clean about Alfanso D. Even if nothing happens in this room tonight, I can’t keep this from her any longer. It makes me sick to my stomach to keep lying to her whenever she talks about him. Me, him, me…what the fuck ever. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and I don’t want to fuck things up before they even really begin. She deserves better and on top of that, Rosa liked Molly so much after dinner the other night that she told me if I didn’t tell her soon, she’d do it herself and it wouldn’t be pretty.
“It’s so quiet in here,” I mumble lamely, trying to fill the silence and build up the courage to come clean.
Molly doesn’t say a word, just walks right up to me and shoves her hands against my chest, sending me flying backwards. I bounce on top of the king-sized bed, and she jumps on top of me and straddles my thighs. I reach up to grab her hips and she quickly stops me, wrapping her hands around my wrists and pulling my arms above my head as she leans forward. Her tits press against my chest and her hair forms a curtain around our faces as she looks down at me.
“Keep your hands up here and don’t move them until I say so,” she demands, letting go of my wrists and sliding down my body.
“Holy shit this is hot,” I whisper as she trails her hands down my chest and stomach, stopping when she gets to the button of my jeans. Maybe I’ll wait until after she finishes whatever she’s planning to do to me to tell her the truth. I mean, what’s another couple of minutes in the grand scheme of things?
“Just so there’s no confusion, we don’t have to do anything tonight. We can talk or watch TV or do whatever you want,” I tell her.
I will legit cry like a baby if she stops, but it’s impossible for me to be an asshole with her. I didn’t come over here with any expectations aside from finally being alone with her. Sure, I’m a dude and I always want sex, but I don’t expect it, especially with Molly.
“Watch TV or let me put my mouth on your penis, your choice,” she replies.
Her fingers pause on the zipper of my jeans and my jaw drops open as I stare at her while she waits for me to remember how to speak.
“Penis mouth,” I mumble. “Definitely penis mouth.”
She nods, her hands going back to work as she unzips my pants. “Wise decision.”
I watch in awe as she sits up on her knees, swiftly yanking my jeans over my hips and to the middle of my thighs. She scoots her body down my legs until she gets to my knees, bending forward over my legs until her face is right above the crotch of my boxer briefs. I can feel her warm breath puff against the thin cotton material and it’s like a mating call to my dick. He jerks and twitches and struts his stuff like a peacock showing its feathers.
“I’m serious, Molly. We really don’t have to do anything. I know you’ve been…uuuhhhh…drinking and I don’t want to take…holy fuck…advantage of you,” I tell her, tripping over my words, moaning and cursing when she slips her fingers in the waistband of my briefs and tugs them down until my penis is on full display.
“I think you’re confused,” she says softly, her breath warming my dick, making it jerk with excitement again. “I’m taking advantage of you. Just close your eyes and don’t move.”
I do as she says, afraid she’ll change her mind if I don’t follow her orders. My head flops back onto the bed and I close my eyes and hold my breath, waiting for the heavenly feel of her lips on my cock.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Still waiting.
I open one eye and lift my head to see her staring down at my penis with a look of concentration on her face. Maybe the women I’ve been with lied. Maybe I don’t have a pleasing penis. What if it’s ugly? What if Molly is repulsed by it? I knew I should have just taken the damn picture in the bathroom and sent it immediately. At least then she would have been prepared and had time to get used to it. Damn my need for good lighting!
“Everything okay?” I ask, chuckling nervously.
She nods without looking up. “Just getting to know your penis. Charlotte suggested it so I’m giving it a try.”
I should be embarrassed that she was talking about my penis with her sister, but I spent the evening telling her father how good my sperm was and then had to explain to him I wasn’t masturbating to a picture of his wife in their bedroom while he beat the shit out of me. She can discuss my penis with whomever she likes.
“Take your time. Whatever you need,” I tell her, dropping my head back to the bed and relaxing now that I know she isn’t disappointed that I have an ugly penis.
“Feel free to…holy mother of God,” I mutter with a groan when I feel her hand wrap around the base of my cock.
I try to come up with something more to say, something hot and sexy like, Yeah, that’s it baby, harder, but as soon as I open my mouth, her warm, wet lips are sliding over the head of my cock and all I can manage is, “Fuuuuuuuuck-shit-damn-good-God-almighty-mouth-penis.”
I’ve had plenty of blowjobs over the years. Some good ones and some bad ones, but I can’t for the life of me remember anything about them once I feel Molly’s mouth on me. I can’t even remember my name or what day it is when she starts bobbing her head up and down, sucking on me and swirling her tongue around the head of my dick each time she gets to the tip.
Grabbing handfuls of the blanket above my head, I hold on for dear life when her hand tightens around the base of my cock and she moves it up and down the length along with her mouth. Each time she goes down, she takes me in her mouth a little further until I see stars behind my closed eyes and I’m a little embarrassed at how fast my orgasm starts to approach. I’m pretty proud of the fact that I can last as long as a woman needs and I’ve never been a two-pump-chump, even as a teenager, but I’ve never had a woman’s mouth on my dick that I fantasized about for two years and it’s overwhelming. Pushing aside the shame of my weakness, I realize I should warn her I’m dangerously close to coming. I learned my lesson back in high school with Michelle Johnson, but I was a rookie then, figuring if she was going to put her mouth of my dick, she should know the only possible outcome would be me having an orgasm, and therefore she should expect it to happen at any moment, moving away if needed. I kept my lips sealed and started coming in her mouth with a smile on my face. She jerked away from my dick mid-orgasm and the mistake of not warning her resulted in screaming, crying, and jizz in the eye. Michelle wasn’t too happy either.
As soon as I feel the head of my dick touch the back of Molly’s throat, my balls tighten, my legs start to tingle and I open my mouth to give her the required warning in case she’s not a swallower.
Before I can say anything, I hear her gag and the words die on my tongue. One might think the sound of a chick gagging on your dick would be a turn-off, but one would be wrong. Feeling bad that I’m disobeying one of her rules, I open my eyes and lift my head to watch. There’s nothing hotter than watching a girl go to town on your dick.
Unfortunately, her long hair is hanging down over her face and I can’t get a good view of her mouth, but at least I can imagine what it looks like as I feel her take me deeper, another small gagging sound coming from her.
I smile and give myself a mental pat on the back for having such a monster dick that it makes her gag. I’m so busy giving myself a high five and enjoying the way her tongue feels sliding up and down my cock that it takes me a second to realize she’s still gagging. There’s a musical rhythm to it now—slurp, gag, slurp, gag, slurp, gag. I admire her determination and her refusal to quit, and it almost makes me wish I wasn’t seconds away from coming so I could make it last all night.
Then, something horrific happens. It’s so horrific that I should look away, but it’s like driving up on a car accident and slowing down to see if there are any bodies lying in the road. It’s wrong and you feel dirty for doing it, but it’s impossible not to stare. My eyes are glued to Molly’s body and I can’t force myself to look at something else. Anything else, for fuck’s sake.
She gags harder and louder and her back bows while she continues trying to swallow my dick. The sounds coming from her mouth immediately stop being hot and move right into something out of a scary movie. She’s choking and gagging so violently that her back keeps arching with every sound she makes until she starts to resemble a cat trying to cough up a fur ball. I’ve had a few pet cats over the years. I’ve watched them stop what they’re doing to choke and heave and bob their head until they manage to yak up whatever was stuck in their throat. That’s what is happening right at this moment and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I’m so conflicted. Molly’s giving me a blow-job.
My dick is making her choke like a cat trying to bring up a wet, slimy ball of hair.
But Molly’s giving me a blow-job!
“Hey, are you okay? It’s fine, you can stop,” I mutter, my ears ringing with the sounds of her retching and my eyes glued to her back as it continues to spasm.
She shakes her head no as much as she can with my dick still stuffed in her mouth and works through the pain like a trooper. I’m ashamed to say that even with how horrified I am right now, my dick is still hard as a rock and my orgasm continues teetering close the edge.
She tries to speak, but her voice comes out garbled and muffled. It sounds like she’s saying “I’m not a quitter,” but it’s impossible to know for sure since she refuses to remove her mouth from my dick and tries to say the words again.
The vibrations from her voice are like a bolt of electricity shooting right to my balls and while she does her best impression of a hairball yacking cat straddling my thighs, I come so hard and so quickly it takes the breath from my lungs and I lose the ability to think. My hips jerk and my mouth opens wide with a pathetic, high-pitch squeak instead of a manly shout as I experience the best, and possibly weirdest, orgasm of my life.
My happiness at learning the girl of my dreams is in fact a swallower is short-lived. With the pleasure of my orgasm still floating through my dick and balls, Molly’s back arches one last time and she finally gets that pesky hairball up. Or the gallon of vodka she must have downed before I got here. For the first time in my life, and hopefully the only time, a girl pukes on my dick.
Oh, Jesus Christ! Not only is there puke on my dick, there is puke filled with jizz on my dick. I don’t give a fuck if it’s my own jizz, it’s jizz-puke and it’s ON MY FUCKING DICK!
She finally removes her mouth from me as the last of the puke trickles out onto my penis and I prepare myself to give her as many words of comfort as I can so she isn’t embarrassed because Jesus fucking Christ she just puked on my cock!
Don’t worry about me and my dick covered in vomit mixed with mucusy spooge. It’s fine; it’s totally fine that I can feel it dripping down my balls and into my ass crack. I need to play it cool or she’ll never want to put her mouth on my penis again.
Molly quickly sits up on my legs and drags the back of her hand across her mouth. I give her a second to compose herself and pretend like the puke sliding down my hips and between my legs is just warm water. Slimy, jizzy water. It’s fine, puke washes off of balls, no biggie. As long as Molly is okay, I can handle pukey balls.
She finally lifts her head to look at me and I give her a small smile.
“It’s okay, no big deal,” I reassure her.
Without a word, she slides off my lap and crawls up to the top of the bed, flopping face-first into the pile of pillows.
I watch her quietly for a few minutes and she doesn’t move.
“Molly? Are you okay?”
Instead of getting an answer, I hear a tiny little snore and then the deep sounds of her breathing.
As carefully as I can, I scoot myself to the edge of the bed, trying to keep the puke contained to my lap as I contort my body and quickly shuffle to the bathroom to shower. Once I’m cleaned off, I wrap a towel around my waist and strip the covers out from under Molly’s passed out body. I toss them in the corner of the room and grab the extra blanket from the top shelf of the closet, crawling into bed next to her. Turning off the lamp on the bedside table, I unfold the blanket to cover us both. Gently turning her body to the side so I can press myself against her back, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her snugly against me.
Closing my eyes, I nuzzle my nose into her hair and breathe her in. Partially because I love the way she smells, but mostly because it masks the smell of vomit lurking in the air. Maybe I should be freaked out that my first sexual encounter with Molly ended with her puking on my dick, with said dick still in her mouth. I’m sure any other guy would have left her alone in this hotel room and gotten the fuck out of dodge, but I’m not just any guy. I’m a sick fuck and I don’t care if my balls smell like puke for the next couple of days. I don’t even care if my jizz going down her throat was the cause of her upchuck instead of the booze she drank. I’ll let her cough up a hairball on my dick any time, as long as she still wants to put her mouth on it again after tonight.
I drift off to sleep with a smile on my face that my night ended better than I thought it would after Molly’s dad introduced me to his fists.
Who knew vomit balls would trump a black eye and a bloody lip?
Chapter 19
– Poop Sex –
Molly
“Are you even listening to me?” I whisper angrily, peeling back the curtain just enough to make sure mom is still busy talking to the seamstress.
“Molly, I don’t have time to hear the dick puking story again. I have bigger problems right now,” Charlotte complains, huffing and grunting as she tries to suck everything in as hard as she can as I go back to trying to zip her into her wedding dress.
“I threw up all over the first penis I ever put in my mouth!” I whisper-shout angrily, planting my feet wider and tugging on the zipper as hard as I can. “Does that not sound like a huge fucking problem to you?”
It’s been two weeks since the night I became the Incredible Dick Puking Molly, and I’ve tried to get Charlotte to help me since then and she’s brushed me off every time. It’s bad enough I passed out right after it happened and Marco had to clean up my puke by himself. It’s even worse that I woke up the next morning feeling like I’d been run over by a truck with only a vague memory of what had occurred the previous night. Even the feel of Marco’s arms holding me and how good it felt to have him curled up around me couldn’t stop the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, knowing something horrible happened even if I couldn’t remember everything. Marco tried to pretend like everything was fine, but not even his hot body wrapped in just a towel could distract me from the overwhelming smell of puke in the room. After twenty minutes of me arguing with him to tell me what happened, he finally did and I immediately wished I’d ignored the puke smell and let my brain keep what I did a nice little secret locked away forever.
“Maybe the zipper is broken. That’s probably what it is, just a broken zipper,” Charlotte mumbles.
“The zipper isn’t broken, tubby. How is this possible when you’re only like five minutes pregnant? How does this dress not fit when you’ve been puking every day since the stick turned pink?” I complain, immediately regretting my use of the puking word since it just makes me remember what I did the first time I had a penis in my mouth.
“Shut the fuck up, dick-bag!” she yells through clenched teeth. “You call me tubby one more time and I will punch you in the throat!”
The curtain slides open and Ava sticks her head in the dressing room. “Everything okay in here? Why is it taking so long for you to put on a fucking dress?”
I drop my hands from the zipper and back away from Charlotte. There is no way that zipper is going to budge.
“Fatty here doesn’t fit into her wedding dress anymore,” I tell Ava.
Charlotte’s arm flies back and her forearm smacks against my throat. I start choking and wrap my hands around my neck, giving Charlotte a dirty look.
“I warned you,” Charlotte growls, returning my dirty look as she stares at me over her shoulder.
“You told me not to call you tubby, you didn’t say anything about fatty, you fatty-fat-ass-dick-head,” I growl back in between coughs.
“You seriously can’t zip the dress?” Ava questions, stepping inside the small room and pulling the curtain closed behind her.
She steps forward and tries to zip it herself, giving up after a few hard tugs.
“Nope, not gonna happen. This size two no longer fits your size eight ass,” Ava informs our sister. “Maybe you should have eased up on that entire box of Twinkies you inhaled for breakfast this morning.”
Charlotte stomps her foot and whirls around, the dress billowing out around her as she turns. It really is a beautiful dress and she looks stunning. From the front.
“They’re the only things that I can keep down so shut the fuck up!”
The curtain slides back again and this time, Aunt Claire pokes her head in. “They’re getting a little stingy with the free champagne out here, can we speed things along?”
Charlotte quickly moves in front of me so the huge gap in the back of her dress can’t be seen in the full-length mirror behind her.
“This isn’t a bar, Aunt Claire. I think five glasses is enough,” Charlotte tells her.
“I had cancer! Have you no shame?” she argues.
“There is a statute of limitations on how long you can keep using that to make us feel bad,” Ava says. “It’s not going to work because you want more booze.”
Aunt Claire gives her the finger. “You’re mean and I don’t like you very much right now.”
“Why am I the only adult in this room?” Ava complains with a roll of her eyes.
“I am acting like an adult, you’re just being a meanie doo-doo head,” Aunt Claire states, sticking out her tongue as she pulls her head back and yanks the curtain closed.
“We’ll just tell them you’ve been stress-eating,” Ava says with a shrug. “Weddings are stressful, it’s easily believable. It’s not like they didn’t witness you inhaling that box of snack cakes in the car. Oh, wait. They didn’t because you hunkered down in the back seat and made Molly hold the box and pretend like she was the one eating them.”
I nod in agreement. Not my finest hour pretending to chew every time our mother looked in the rearview mirror or Aunt Claire turned around to look at the three of us.
“Oh, just so you know, Marco hasn’t said a word to Tyler about the night of the great penis purge,” Ava tells me while Charlotte reaches behind her to try and zip up her dress on her own. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him, I just nonchalantly asked what they talked about when he got home from grabbing a beer with Marco last night. If Tyler knew, it would have been the first thing out of his mouth since that man cannot keep a secret. Not only can your man handle a little vomit on his junk, he doesn’t gossip about it. You’ve got yourself a keeper.”
I close my eyes in mortification as she laughs, refusing to give her a high-five when she holds her hand up in the air.
Even though I wanted to lock myself in my room and never face Marco again after the night in the hotel room, he made that impossible to do. He wouldn’t let one day go by without seeing me, and as much as I wanted to hide from him so I never had to think about what I did, I wanted to be around him even more. He came up to work every day and took me to lunch, he planned dates and things for us to do almost every night and he never let more than a few hours go by without calling to tell me he just wanted to hear the sound of my voice. My two year crush and only a handful of weeks with him has shot me right up the hill of falling in love with him to tumbling over the edge and head over heels, madly, passionately in love with him.
“What am I going to do if I can never give him another blowjob? What kind of a relationship can we possibly have if I can’t put his penis in my mouth without throwing up?” I ask, trying to keep my panic at a minimum before I curl up in the fetal position and cry.
“Stop being a drama queen, for fuck’s sake. So you threw up on his dick? Come back to me when you’ve had accidental anal,” Ava says with a sigh. “At least you had the luxury of passing out after you threw up. I couldn’t sit down for a week and I was afraid to take a shit for four days.”
I grimace and throw my hands up.
“Seriously, you have got to stop with the over-sharing,” I complain.
“Maybe I should give Gavin anal and then tell him about the baby,” Charlotte thinks aloud. “Anal can make anything better, right?”
Ava nods. “Sure. Anal is pretty much the sexual duct tape of the world—it fixes everything. I should put that on a t-shirt.”
While Ava ponders her idea, I turn my focus to Charlotte.
“Have you even tried talking to Gavin about kids yet or are you just planning on dropping this huge bomb on him as soon as he says I do?” I ask, trying not to sound annoyed.
“You can’t rush something like this, Molly. It’s a very delicate situation.”
Her annoyance comes through loud and clear and it pisses me off.
“Oh, by all means, take your time. In fact, why don’t you wait until you go into labor to break the news? I’m having so much fun fucking up my life and having mom and dad upset and disappointed in me instead of enjoying what should be the best time of my life. As long as you’re happy, Charlotte, that’s all that matters,” I bite out sarcastically.
Ava pats me on the back in sympathy and Charlotte immediately bursts into tears.
“I’m so fat and Gavin is going to leave me, and now you hate me and I’m going to be pregnant and alone and this baby is going to hate me for ruining it’s life!” she wails.
“Oh, give me a fucking break!” Ava complains. “Turn off the fake waterworks. I am not afraid to punch a pregnant chick so cut that shit out.”
Charlotte huffs in annoyance, the tears in her eyes immediately disappearing, proving that Ava was correct and she was faking it. She almost had me feeling sorry for her pathetic ass.
“Jesus, are you even human?” I mumble.
“It’s a gift,” she shrugs, resuming her struggle to try and zip her dress. “I just imagine someone I love dying in a really horrible way.”
“You need to be medicated. If Gavin doesn’t dump your ass when you tell him about the baby, he sure as shit will when he figures out you’re psychotic,” Ava states.
“Your boyfriend can’t get it up unless you dress up like Mister Ed so fuck off,” Charlotte replies. “I think I’ve almost got it.”
Charlotte pants as she twists and turns with her arms still behind her back. Her face is red and glistening with sweat as she struggles for a few more seconds before dropping her arms and sighing in relief. “I did it!”
She turns to show us, Ava and I sharing a quick look behind her back.
“Yep, you did it!” Ava cheers as Charlotte turns back around with a smile. “You moved the zipper a whole centimeter. Well done, fatty.”
Charlotte lunges at Ava and I quickly jump forward, wrapping my arms around her and holding her back while she pulls and struggles and curses.
“You dick-bag-whore-fuck-ass-licking-twat!” Charlotte screams, not even bothering to keep her voice down.
“Fuck right off, you selfish cunt!” Ava yells back.
Charlotte stops struggling and I let out a low whistle.
“Damn, going right for the C U Next Tuesday, huh? That’s harsh,” I tell her.
Ava shrugs. “It couldn’t be helped. Can we call a truce for now and get this shit show over with? Aunt Claire is going to start throwing punches if she goes much longer without champagne.”
I drop my arms from around Charlotte and she takes a deep breath for courage. I decide to keep my mouth shut for now and suck this crap up a little longer. I’m pissed and I’m frustrated and I just want this whole thing to be over with, but I know it’s just as bad for Charlotte. She’s nervous about everything running smoothly with the wedding she’s been planning since she was a little girl, she’s pregnant and scared and now her dream dress that she loved the minute she first tried it on six months ago doesn’t fit. And least I have one good thing in my life that makes all of this bullshit better, even if I’m now afraid of his penis.
Ava and I leave the dressing room first and I hold the curtain open for Charlotte to walk through. Mom, Aunt Claire and Aunt Jenny stop talking and stare at Charlotte as she walks out of the room.
Mom immediately bursts into tears and Aunt Claire silently grabs a box of Kleenex from the table next to her, shoving it into mom’s stomach.
“Oh, honey, you look so beautiful,” Mom gushes as Charlotte smiles at the praise, lifting up the skirt of her dress and doing a little twirl.
“Why isn’t your dress zipped?” Aunt Claire asks when Charlotte stops twirling.
“I’m stressed. I’ve been stress-eating and gained a little weight, and it’s no big deal and it happens to every bride,” Charlotte rambles.
“Oh, my gosh, you too?” Aunt Jenny asks. “I’m so nervous and excited about the wedding I’ve been eating in my sleep. I’m sleep-walk eating.”
Mom blows her nose and Aunt Claire holds up her empty champagne glass, signaling to the owner of the shop. “Something tells me I’m going to need a refill.”
Aunt Jenny continues as Mom tosses her tissue and box of Kleenex to an empty chair. She walks behind Charlotte to try and zip the dress, glancing at the camera man and sound guy standing next to Aunt Claire with their equipment pointed right at Aunt Jenny.
“Do you guys ever take a lunch break or anything? Now might be a great time for that,” Mom informs them.
Daren the camera guy, or Dicky Daren as Uncle Drew likes to call him, who has been recording our family’s every move for the last two weeks, tilts his head to the side of the camera and shrugs.
“Sorry, folks. Producer says I have to get everything. Don’t worry, they’ll edit out anything they don’t think is interesting.”
At this point, the documentary their filming will be approximately 85,000 hours long instead of a two-hour special. Our family doesn’t know how to do anything uninteresting.
“Does that mean you’ll include the footage of you letting Drew fondle your wanker? Because that was pretty interesting, Dicky Daren,” Aunt Claire says with a wink.
“He didn’t fondle it; he grazed it on accident when he tripped over the microphone chord! I have never let a dude fondle my penis!” Daren argues. “I mean, not that it’s wrong or anything. I’m down with the gays and they’re cool and everything, but I prefer chicks on my dick.”
Stan, the sound guy, elbows him in the side and nods to the camera.
“Fuck! Of COURSE I didn’t stop recording,” Daren mutters, shifting the camera more securely on his shoulder and moving his face back behind the eye piece.
“You should be loud and proud about that shit, Dicky Daren,” Aunt Claire says with a laugh. “You got at least an hour of footage of Drew going on and on about how big your penis is and how he’s pretty sure it’s the size of his forearm. Do you know how many women you could bang if that airs? Seriously. You’d have to beat them off with a stick.”
Mom laughs, her fingers still trying to pull up the zipper that won’t budge. “Forget the stick, he could just beat them off with his python penis.”
Daren starts muttering to himself behind the camera, something about crazy women and how he doesn’t get paid enough for this shit, and we go back to pretending like he’s not there.
“Okay, back to what I was saying,” Aunt Jenny continues. “I couldn’t understand why I gained like ten pounds in two weeks until I woke up one morning with an empty box of Ho Hos on my pillow and chocolate smushed on the sheets. Drew assumed it was poop and thought I wanted to try some skate play. I tried for over an hour to convince him it was just chocolate, but he didn’t believe me. Now he won’t shut up about it and keeps telling me there’s no shame in admitting I like poopy sex.”
The shop owner who was on her way to Aunt Claire with a freshly opened bottle of champagne immediately turns on her heels and runs away.
“I believe you mean skat play, not skate play, Jenny,” Aunt Claire mutters. “And can we please get out of here so I can find the closest drug dealer? I’m gonna need to shoot up some meth or something to erase that information from my mind.”
Mom gives up on trying to zip Charlotte’s dress, telling her not to worry and that she’ll just have the seamstress sew a piece of fabric in to hide the problem.
Ava and I help Charlotte out of her dress and we all head out to the car to leave the poor owner in peace so she can cry alone after what she just witnessed, while Daren and Stan load the equipment in their van to follow behind us. Aunt Claire tried to lose them last week just for fun and it ended in a high-speed chase, three annihilated mailboxes, one flat tire, two dead squirrels, and my mom never letting Aunt Claire behind the wheel of a car again.
My phone beeps as Mom pulls out of the parking lot while Aunt Claire complains there’s a guy with a walker moving faster than we are. I smile when I see a text from Marco and block out the sounds of my mom and my aunt arguing from the front seat.
Clear your calendar tonight and plan on getting naked. Puking permitted, but not required.
