Amy: Okay. Would you rather masturbate in public or lick Professor Sullivan’s asshole?
I choke back a laugh and screw up my nose, not finding either of those options particularly appealing. Not that I’m going to tell Amy that. I glance up to make sure Professor Sullivan is still talking before I type out my response.
Me: Lick Professor Sullivan’s asshole, preferably while stroking his cock. Then again, I’ve always had a thing for exhibitionism. Can I just say both? Or maybe lick his ass in public, while getting myself off?
Amy: I knew you were a kinky bitch.
Why is Professor Sullivan calling out my name?
You wanted to see me?” I say.
“I wanted to speak with you for a moment about the internal instant messaging service you love to abuse so much.”
My heart thumps in my chest as I force myself to swallow.
“What about it?” I finally manage to ask.
He smiles at me, those electric blue eyes burning through me. My skin goes hot as I shuffle on my feet, waiting for him to tell me what the hell this is all about. A horrible thought hits me. I hope he’s not cutting me off. I shudder at the thought.
“I’m an administrator, Becca. That means every single text sent within that system pops up on my screen. Most of them I ignore, but every now and then one captures my attention.” His eyes twinkle as he stares at me. “Oddly enough, the ones that stand out are nearly always yours.”
“Look, I’m not telling you to stop messaging your friends—I just wanted you to be aware that I could see them.” He pauses, the tiniest smile visible on his lips. “Since so many of them involve me.”
“Is that all?” I whisper.
I don’t want to stand here making small talk with him. I want to get the fuck out of here and never speak about this moment again. Ever. Only I’m not convinced that my mind is ready to let me forget about this just yet.
“Sure.” He studies me for a moment, before continuing.
“Did you know the IMs sent through the internal system are monitored?” I accuse her. Then I cringe again. I want the world to swallow me up every time I think about it. “Every fucking message we’ve sent in that room, he’s read.”
“Of course I knew,” she giggles. “I thought you knew and you just didn’t care. That’s why I keep messaging you, because you’re so much fun.”
“Didn’t care?” I repeat, glaring at her. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I care?”
I frown as I try to decide which option to go with: the fist or the more traditional penis-shaped dildo. My concentration is interrupted when I hear an all-too-familiar voice calling my name. I cringe and poke my head around the side of the aisle. Sure enough, there’s Mom, flailing up and down the center of the store, calling out to me.
“Becca! There you are. How cool is this place?” She giggles. “It’s huge. Not like the pokey little back-room sex shops I’m used to. Then again, the last time I was in one was when your father and I got one of those—”
I need to get out of here before she does something to really embarrass—I wince when I hear a loud crash.
Too late.
I turn around, my eyes widening at the sight of Mom sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by hundreds of tiny little motorized Pac-Man-style penises. I watch as these tiny little erect penises snap their oversized mouths at her legs, like blood-thirsty piranhas, and I can’t help myself—I lose it. Gasping, I clutch my stomach as tears stream down my cheeks.
Mom glares at me. “Becca, stop laughing and help me.”
“I’ve been invited to a family thing.”
“Whose family?” he asks “Who do you know in Vegas—wait, hold on. Are you talking about Becca’s parents?”
“Yeah, how did you guess?”
“Because you said Vegas and this weekend. Why are you going?” he asks.
“Because she invited me.”
“You?” He snorts. “Why would she invite you?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t remember inviting me.” I chuckle. “But she’ll be honoring it.”
“She doesn’t remember anything about that night?” He laughs. “Even if she did invite you, she’s not going to believe that.”
I grin. “Then it’s a good thing I have proof.”
Hold up, free booze?” I frown suspiciously at them.
Annie shrugs innocently. “It’s only fair. We are helping you, after all…”
“Uh, who’s helping who, here?” I snort. “And you do realize it’s a strip club, right? We’re talking more boobs than a breastfeeding convention.”
“Honey, I haven’t had a kid free night in four freaking months,” Annie growls at me. “I’d suck someone’s tit if it means I get to let my hair down and drink. Work with me on this, Becca. I’m begging you.”
I laugh and shake my head. It’s not like it can make things any worse, right?
“Fine, but not tonight,” I groan. “I’ve had enough drama for today.”
“Well, I have choir practice at the church tomorrow, so that rules that out,” Annie murmurs thoughtfully. Both Laura and I turn to gape at her. She glares back at us. “What? It’s relaxing. Stop judging me.”
Grammy wakes up after a few minutes and looks around.
“Where are we?” she snaps.
“At a resort. We’re staying here for tonight so Becca can attend a family event tomorrow.”
“Becca is that girl?” She frowns at the front seat. “Where’s she?”
“She took our bags up to our rooms,” I explain.
“She took my bags?” Her eyes widen with alarm.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I need my bag.” The panic in her eyes makes me start to panic. “Please, Liam. I need it. You have to get me my bag.”
“Calm down,” I say. “We’ll go up there now and get your bags, okay?”
What’s so important about your bags?”
“Oh…nothing,” she murmurs, looking away.
I narrow my eyes as she stops to examine some roses growing near the front doors. Now she has time to stop for flowers? Five minutes ago she couldn’t get to her bags fast enough. Between that, and the way she won’t look at me, I know something is up.
“Grammy…” I speak in the sternest voice I can muster.
“What?” she practically shouts. “You wouldn’t let me take him, so what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t leave him there. That woman hates him.”
That woman? I groan and take her hand, trying to hurry her up, before the poor thing suffocates. I know exactly what she’s done, but I glance at her, still wanting to ask the question, just in case I’m wrong.
“Please tell me you didn’t smuggle Andrew into your luggage,” I beg her. “Grammy?” I press when she doesn’t answer.
“What? You just told me not to tell you,” she snaps.
“Here we are,” I mutter, panting at the front of the room.
I pound on the hotel room door, until it swings open. Becca stares at me, looking a little shocked as I burst past her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Grammy’s bags. Where are they?” I ask urgently.
“Over there.”
She points to the bed, but I’m already over there, zipping them open. The soft meow brings me more relief than I’ve felt in a long time. My heart races as I dig around in the bag and free a very dazed and angry, Andrew, who had been restrained in a pillow case. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when I see that she’d cut a few holes in the pillowcase so he could breathe. Andrew hisses at me and then struggles out of my arms, making a run for the door.
“Shut the door,” I order Becca.
Shit. That’s my parent’s,” I hiss.
Liam snorts, then starts laughing. One look at my expression and he stops laughing. I snatch up my clothes and toss them behind the couch, while he watches me in disbelief.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m gardening. What’s it look like?” I ask, climbing halfway over the back. “Are you coming, or not?”
“I’m a grown man. I am not hiding behind the couch, from my girlfriend’s parents.”
I stop and stare at him.
Girlfriend?
My eyes widen when the couch begins to rock back, buckling under my weight. I cry out and grab hold of him, but it’s too late. He slips from my grasp as I fall back with the couch. Fuck. I gasp as a stab of pain rips through my ankle.
“Get it off me,” I gasp as the base lands on my ankle. “Fuck, it hurts.”
“I’m trying,” he growls,
No, he’s not trying because he’s too busy laughing. It’s all right for him. I’m the one sprawled out naked, on the floor with a couch on my foot.
Becca, what are you doing? Why are you hiding behind the couch?” Mom’s voice sings out again, this time it’s much closer.
“Because I’m building a fucking fort,” I snarl.
“Rebecca Chamber’s, don’t you take that tone with me—” Her voice stops. “Oh, hello Liam. It’s lovely to see you again.” The change in her tone makes me laugh.
“You too, Mrs. Chambers.”
“Oh, call me Karen.” Mom laughs.
“Um, sorry to interrupt, but can we get this couch off me?” I snap. I’ve managed to get my shirt on and covered my legs with the throw rug from the couch.
“What’s happening?”
I groan. Dad.
“Your daughter is trapped under the couch.”
“Again?” Dad jokes. “Okay, you take that end, I’ll take this. Karen, you help Becca up.”