Spectacular Rascal: A Sexy Flirty Dirty Standalone Romance (19 page)

“No, that can’t happen,” Red says with a firm shake of her head. “I need her to love me best. She’s already starting to like you better. If we take her with us, she’ll break up with me and convince you to buy a man purse—the better to tote her around Manhattan on your motorcycle—and let her be the live-in mascot for your tattoo shop.”

“Only service dogs are allowed in the shop.”

“But the man purse is still on the table?” Cat asks, amusement in her voice.

I shrug. “A man has to carry shit, and sometimes my wallet gives me a cramp in my ass if my jeans are too tight.”

“Shane, save me.” Cat leans across the island to squeeze her friend’s hand. “You have to watch Fang so she’ll still love me when this is all over.”

Shane laughs. “She will always love you, crazy pants, but yes, I can hide Feefs from the mean old HOA for a week or so. She’s such a good puppy. She’ll know not to bark when the grouchy man downstairs is at home. We’ll have an amazing time and get all rested up to celebrate your new lease on life when you get home.”

“Perfect,” Cat says, turning back to me. “I hope you’re not too sad that it will be just you and me.”

I shake my head. “Not at all. I like just you and me.”

And I do. In fact, I can’t wait to be on the open road, zooming away from the dangerous men, dark memories, and bad habits of the city, looking forward to a few days with Cat all to myself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

From the text archives of Curved for her Pleasure

and Polka Dot Panties

Panties: Where is he, Curve? Where are you hiding him?

Curved: Red! Good to hear from you. I was just about to call you to talk about this. I’m—

Panties: Don’t try to placate me, Curve. Tell me where Hole in the Ground is. I know you’re with him. I just went by his dorm, and his roommate said that you’d been there a few minutes ago.

Curve: That doesn’t

Panties: The roommate also said he’d overheard something about Hole’s life being in danger. He didn’t seem very impressed when I told him that I’m the one who’s going to kick Hole’s ass so hard his anus is going to pop out through his left nostril.

Then he mentioned that I looked familiar.

If he had said anything about the picture, I would have kicked his ass just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and having eyes.

You need to hand over Hole before I vent my rage on innocent people.

Curved: Where are you?

Panties: I’m crossing the quad, scanning dark corners for signs of a snake and his handler hiding in the grass. Where the fuck are you and that shitty piece of shit is a better question.

Curve: I want you to take a deep breath, Panties. Uncurl your death mittens and find a place to sit down in the shade. It’s a beautiful day.

Panties: It is
not
a beautiful day. It is a shit day! This day is a diaper full of green baby diarrhea.

Curve: How about I send you some of that soothing, pan flute music you like to listen to? I’ll gift it to your Music Monster account right now. You can pop your ear buds in, relax in the shade, and let yourself be lulled by the pan flute for fifteen minutes while I deal with Hole.

And as soon as I’m done I’ll come get you.

Panties: No, you’re not dealing with Hole! I’M dealing with Hole. It’s my ass that he plastered all over the Internet, so it’s my ass that’s going to make HIS ass sorry that it was ever born.

Curve: I made him take it down, Red. That’s the first thing I did when I got to his room. He’s erased all the posts, and I made sure he wiped it from his phone and his computer, too.

Panties: That’s not good enough!

Curve: He’s also going to be on disciplinary leave from the Dashers for the next month and have to perform a trial by fire to get back into the club’s good graces.

And you can decide his trial by fire. Does that sound fair?

I was thinking of making him run up and down the street on pub-crawl night wearing nothing but a pair of polka dot panties. That would be fitting revenge, right?

Panties: No it wouldn’t. Because he enjoys running around half-naked, making a fool of himself. Remember the lingerie he wore to the cross-dressing event last year?

Everyone has already seen his junk. No one had ever seen mine.

But now the entire school has seen me squatting to pee in the grass, and the only way to make this better is to kill Hole with my bare hands.

Curve: First of all, not everyone has seen you squatting to pee. The post on the message board only had five hundred hits by the time I heard what happened and made him take it down.

Panties: Five hundred! Is that supposed to make me feel better?!

That only five hundred people have seen me peeing with a dumb look on my face?!

Oh my God, I’m never going to be able to show my face on campus or in Pennsylvania or anywhere else for the rest of my life!

Curve: Secondly, your “junk” as you so delicately put it, was not visible in the shot, just your ass. Your junk is still your private business and your ass is completely stunning.

Yes, I understand that the picture was taken and shared without your knowledge or permission, and believe me, that pisses me off as much as it does you.

Panties: I sincerely doubt that, you patronizing jackass.

Curve: But you have nothing to be embarrassed of, is what I was going to say. And I’m not being a patronizing jackass! I’m trying to make you feel better, while also making sure you don’t get kicked out of school.

If you kick his ass, you will get kicked out of school, Panties. Assault is grounds for mandatory expulsion.

Yes, if you tell the disciplinary board about the picture, Hole will probably get kicked out, too. But will that really be worth it? I know you love it here, and your dad is a hardass who will not be happy about his daughter getting kicked out of university for fighting. Do you really want to fuck up your whole life just because an asshole thought it would be funny to take a picture of you while you were peeing?

And Hole is sorry, by the way. He really is.

I don’t think he realized how upsetting this would be to you. He wanted to prank you, not shame or enrage you. He’s as dumb as a sock full of rocks, but he’s not cruel. You know that. If he were, then I would be beating the shit out of him myself.

But you should see him. He feels terrible. He’s all sniffly and sad, and so scared he’s about to crap his pants.

Panties: Then he should.

Curve: Should what?

Panties: Crap his pants. Tell him to crap his pants and then take a long slow walk around the quad so I can watch people’s faces as he goes by.

Curve: You’re serious?

Panties: The walk needs to last at least fifteen minutes.

The quad is packed, so that should be enough to make sure five hundred people see him wandering around with his pants full of his own feces.

Curve: Jesus Christ. That’s really nasty, Red.

Panties: Those are my terms.

Communicate them to Hole. Should he choose to accept my offer, I promise I won’t lay a hand on him.

Curve: All right.

Panties: All right, you’ll communicate my terms? Or all right, he’ll do it?

Curve: He’ll do it. He’s already done it, actually, and it smells like shit.

Imagine that.

We’re starting toward the quad right now. He wants me to tell you that he’s sorry, and that this is worth it to earn your forgiveness.

Panties: I didn’t offer forgiveness. I offered him the chance not to get his face smashed in with my foot.

If he wants forgiveness he’s going to have to change his Dasher name to Shit Pants for Brains and write Panties is My Master on the back of his lucky hat in puffy paint.

Curve: Done. Name change official as of now, paint to be applied after he’s finished his walk of shame.

But if you have any more messages for him, you’ll have to convey them yourself. He’s on his own from here on out. I can’t stand the smell of him a second longer. It smells like he had rotten tacos for breakfast.

I see you, by the way. Can I come over and watch with you?

Am I forgiven for the sin of trying to keep you from getting kicked out of school?

Panties: Yes. You’re forgiven.

And yes, you can come watch with me. Public shamings are always more fun when shared with a friend. Even the Pilgrims knew that.

I’m still too pissed to thank you, but I probably will later. Sometimes my anger at the injustice of the world gets the better of me.

Curve: Like that time in Kathmandu?

Panties: You know we do not speak of Kathmandu.

Curve: Are you ever going to tell me whether anything really happened in Kathmandu, or if you’ve just been fucking with my head for almost two years?

Panties: Probably not. We women have to maintain an aura of mystery, you know. And I have to work harder to maintain mine now that you’ve seen my bare ass.

Curve: I have not. A picture isn’t anything like the real thing. I consider us still on a no ass-information shared basis.

But if it really bothers you, I can show you my bare ass later so we’ll be even.

Panties: Make me that offer later tonight, when I’m drunk enough to take you up on it without blushing my face off.

Curve: Will do. ;)

Panties: Now hurry up and get over here. People are starting to notice that Shit Pants for Brains has shit in his pants, too. I want to laugh at their horrified expressions with you.

Curve: *putting down phone* *running straight to you*

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

We get on the road fast, and by mid-morning, Manhattan is a distant memory as we wind through lush green hills toward the Finger Lakes region. We stop only for gas and snacks and by unspoken agreement refrain from talking about anything that will remind us of why we’re on this impromptu road trip.

And eventually, my jaw relaxes, and I’m able to enjoy the drive and, of course, the company.

“Why on earth did you buy these?” Cat pulls a package of bright blue coconut snack cakes from the bag of road munchies I bought at the last gas station. “Ew. You know these are made of rat feces, radioactive food coloring, and armpit shavings, right?”

I snatch my package of Glo Balls from her fingers and drop it between my thighs before returning my hands to the wheel.

“Give them back! I wasn’t finished reading all of the disgusting ingredients.” Cat reaches for the snack cakes, but I slap her hand away and point a warning finger in her direction.

“Stop. Right now. No messing with me while I’m driving.”

She huffs. “But I wasn’t finished examining your Glo Balls!”

“I never let women examine my Glo Balls on a first date.”

“That’s a dirty lie,” she says, walking her fingers up onto the console between us. “I examined your balls last night. And that was basically a first date. A weird first date, but still…”

“We were friends for years, so last night was nothing like a first date. And you did not examine my balls. You didn’t even roll them around in your fingers, let alone get up close and personal.”

She hums beneath her breath. “All right. Point taken.” She walks her fingers back over to her own seat and starts digging through the snack bag again. “I’ll make a memo to do a thorough exam at my earliest convenience.”

“Don’t you mean my earliest convenience?” I ignore my thickening cock, which is insisting he’s way more interesting than my balls, and should be examined as soon as I can find a smooth place to pull over onto the shoulder. “I mean, I’m the one who’s going to have to get naked.”

“Not necessarily,” she says, a husky note in her voice that does nothing to help the increasingly uncomfortable situation below my belt. “I could always lean over and do an exam right here. I’ve never given road head before, but I’m willing to give it the college try.”

My cock strains the fabric of my jeans, insisting that is an amazing idea, but I shake my head and warn Cat, “Behave,” as I rip open my Glo Balls.

Shane didn’t seem overly stressed about loaning Cat and me her late aunt’s vintage 1960s Rolls Royce, but I’m determined not to get so much as a ding on this car, which means no veering off onto the shoulder because I’m getting head while driving.

Though now, thanks to Cat, I can’t shake the image of her kneeling at my feet, her gaze holding mine as she swirls her tongue around the tip of my cock. I try to replace the visual with something else, but not even imagining that my snack cake is actually made of all the gross things Cat said it was made of is enough to completely kill the fantasy.