The Randy Romance Novelist (20 page)

Jenny put her hand on my arm to silence me. “I think you’re done.”

I nodded and shut up. Pretty sure I would never be coming here again, ever.

Looking awkward and uncomfortable, the lady wrote something in her notes—most likely about me—and then said, “The music will start soon and three men will come out to dance for you who meet your specifications. If you are satisfied with one of them, we will book him for . . . oh, it’s a Sunday night.”

“The bride-to-be didn’t want to have to deal with Saturday night drunks in the city.”

“Ah, yes, that makes sense. Smart thinking on her end, but inconvenient for everyone else. They will be right out.”

Once she left the room, Jenny turned to me. “I didn’t like her. Who is she to judge a Sunday night bachelorette party?”

“Everyone,” I answered honestly. “Everyone can judge a Sunday night bachelorette party for many reasons. One, it’s a Sunday night, therefore people will either have to go to work still inebriated, or they will have to take the day off. Two, Sundays are God’s day. Debauchery and flying penises don’t really say godly things.”

“Yeah, I don’t think God would appreciate flying penises. Although, if you think about it, he created penises, thrusting pelvises, and the imagination; therefore, he created the flying penis, so maybe he just might appreciate the soaring salami.”

“Maybe,” I laughed just as the lights dimmed down and music started to play. It was low at first, a sexy base beat that sent chills through my veins.

Was I living out a
Magic Mike
moment?

I was, because Ginuwine’s voice boomed through the speakers and spotlights hit the back of the stage, where three men wearing baggy jeans came up on stage, all holding their crotches and thrusting their way in our direction.

I wanted to giggle; I wanted to put a pack of ice on my face to cool it down; I wanted Henry’s penis in my hand to squeeze while I watched these three men gyrate to an extremely naughty song. I was all over the place with my emotions.

Jenny leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, “I think I’m going to need a man after we’re done with this.”

I couldn’t agree more with Jenny. The song, the lighting, the abs rolling up and down, creating a tidal wave of sex, were impossible to ignore. This was hot and I was getting more turned on by the minute.

I hadn’t watched
Magic Mike
until some of the ladies in my Facebook groups started talking about Channing Tatum’s dance moves, so I decided to give it a whirl, of course when Henry wasn’t home. I’d never been exposed to such erotic boogying, nor had I ever seen a man in a thong. I had sex with Henry four times that night. He thought it was the new cologne he was wearing—which, yes, smelled amazing—but it was me envisioning Henry as Channing Tatum, humping my face on stage wearing only a red G-string.

I fanned my face just thinking about it.

Ginuwine continued to play as all three men stripped their pants off at the same time. They were wearing matching blue man thongs and moved in tandem to the music. I almost felt like I was in the book,
Becoming a Jett Girl
, but instead of the girls being on stage, it was men, and I was one of the creeps on the side of the stage, getting an eyeful.

Remembering the task at hand, I started to evaluate each man. The one on the right had a massive amount of abs, but I couldn’t get over the fact that his nipples looked like little puff balls. Why weren’t they hard? Non-hard man nipples should be flat, not like someone tried to inflate them but failed miserably. He was a no for me.

The man in the middle, now he had great nipples, hard and pointy, just the way Delaney liked them. His abs were great, and he was completely hairless, but as he stepped forward, I noticed his package wasn’t as jiggly as Delaney probably would have wanted. They were all thrusting in the air, and his barely moved. Made me wonder, did he stuff? No jiggle to the junk meant no bachelorette party. He was a no.

“Oh, my God,” Jenny said, while pinching my thigh.

“Ouch,” I rubbed my leg. “Why are you pinching me?”

Jenny nonchalantly pointed at the man on the left. He had dark brown hair, great nipples, fantastic abs, and . . . oh, my God.

“His balls are enormous.”

“Are those two apples in there or a man’s sperm sack?” Jenny asked, unable to tear her gaze away.

All three men were now on the edge of the stage, holding onto their heads and really thrusting their hips in the air, as if they were trying to consummate with the lights above them. Middle man had no reach, but by the earthquake shaking in left man’s banana hammock, I was afraid his boulders were going to roll right on out and sit on our laps.

Henry had great balls, such a lovely nut sac to touch and play with. I appreciated the fact that he kept things clean for me, free of unruly hair or atrocious man cheese smell—I’ve only heard from Delaney about the man cheese.

But the balls up on stage, the man pouch bouncing up at us, shaking its change, that was one piece of junk that actually terrified me. One slap from those in the face and you would be needing a frozen penis pop placed on your eye to avoid bruising.

He was perfect.

They finished up the song by turning around to show us their butt flexing, which, in all honesty was pretty impressive. I flexed my butt along with them, trying to stay in beat to the music, but it was hard to stay in tune with such molded man meat. I gave them credit for a job well done.

Once the dance was over, the lights came on and the lady who was helping us earlier came out of nowhere. I clapped, not really sure if I was supposed to or not, and Jenny joined in with me after she realized I was the only one cheering for the penis parade that just came through the room.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Ladies, did you see anything you liked?”

Before I could stop myself, I said, “Giant man balls was fantastic. We’ll take him home for our bride.”

I heard it the minute it left my lips. The men chuckled and man balls looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“I didn’t mean it like that, like I was going to take him back to our lair so we could pay homage to his potato sack. There will hopefully be some light tapping with his penis to the bride’s face, but there will be no tongue involved. She just wants a good whack from one more random penis before she walks down the aisle, you can understand that, right?”

The room was silent, not even a pin drop to echo through the lull in conversation.

“Well, we will put Makhi on the schedule for your party. We got your deposit, so I think we’re all set here, thanks, ladies. I think you know your way out.”

Not even bothering to shake the lady’s hand or wave bye to Man Balls Makhi, we directed ourselves to the front door and let ourselves out onto the streets of New York.

“That wasn’t embarrassing at all,” Jenny said, looking at her phone.

“I shouldn’t be allowed to speak to other humans.”

Jenny didn’t disagree with me. “Pretty much. This was fun and all, but I think I might have scored a date tonight, thank you, Tinder. I’ll catch you later. Go hump your boyfriend’s face.”

After what I just saw, pretty sure that was on the docket for tonight.

***

“Where the hell is he?” I asked Sir Licks-a-Lot, who was sitting on top of the armrest of the couch, picking something out of his nail with his teeth. The sound he was making was revolting, causing my stomach to roll. The last thing I wanted to do was puke because of a cat gnawing on himself, especially since all I wanted to do was pounce on Henry.

Hard to do that, though, when he hadn’t come home yet.

It was nine o’clock at night, not even a text message or a call. Mind you, I’d sent him about eight annoying girlfriend messages, and I’d called him twice, well, twice on his work phone and twice on his cell phone.

Nothing.

Not even a “Hey, love, I’ll be home in an hour.”

If the universe didn’t want humans to communicate with each other at the drop of a pin, then cell phones would have never been invented.

Being the creepy stalker I was, I checked my phone to find his location. Yes, we were those people who could locate each other by clicking on an app on our phone. According to my phone, he was still at work! Did he plan on staying there all night?

Frustrated, I called Delaney to bitch to her. She answered on the third ring.

“How did the stripper auditions go today?”

I rolled my eyes. I forgot she was the one who made the appointment.

“Just great, picked out a real stud for you and embarrassed myself while doing so.”

“Did you poke his peen?” Delaney asked with sorrow in her voice, as if it was something I would actually do.

“No, I did not poke his peen. I called him man balls.”

“Oh, I like the sound of this. Does he have giant balls? Please tell me they are two grapefruits waiting to suffocate me.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” I wasn’t in the mood to go into detail. I was annoyed, irritated, and sexually frustrated. I wasn’t one to take things into my own hands, but right about now, I was thinking about grabbing the stupid bullet and giving myself a quickie, a little twiddle-diddle.

Calling me out, Delaney said, “You sound crabby. What’s got your pubes twisted in a knot?”

“I want sex,” I shouted, scaring Sir Licks-a-Lot. Satisfaction ran through me until he started making that, “I’m going to puke” noise and arched his back. In seconds, he puked up a claw chunk and hairball masterpiece, right on my purse. Like the bastard he was, he smiled at me and then took off.

I kicked a couch pillow across the room out of frustration.

“Okay,” Delaney answered over the phone. “Why are you telling me this? Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend right now?”

“You would think!” I started to pace the length of our living room. “But he’s not home. He’s still at work. I feel like for the past week that’s all he’s been doing, working. We haven’t had sex in a really long time. I’m concerned.”

“What’s a really long time? Because according to what Henry told Derk, you two have been sexing it up about three times a day. Isn’t your pussy raw, Rosie?”

“Don’t say that, gross.” Virginia was holding up fine, except for the possibility that I still felt she was allergic to Henry’s penis, Poseidon.

“Okay, so what’s a long time for you two? Ten hours?”

I wished it was ten hours. I was ashamed to say because it was not like us to go so long . . . ever.

“Four days,” I said sheepishly.

Delaney was silent. Seconds ticked by as I waited with bated breath for her response. Was she thinking what I was thinking? Was Henry cheating on me?

“Say something!” I cried, not able to take the silence.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so confused. Four days is like four months for you guys. Have you been initiating and he turning you down or vice versa?”

“I’ve been initiating. He is always so busy or tired from work. That’s all he’s been doing—working.” I took a deep breath before saying what had been on my mind. “Do you think he’s cheating on me, Delaney?”

“Never,” Delaney answered immediately, putting my mind at ease. “Henry loves you way too damn much. He would never cheat on you. Is something going on at work? Do you think he’s going to lose his job?”

“I don’t know. He did bring home an invitation the other day to a party for his work. It’s their annual third quarter party. Henry mumbled something about taking me and having to wear something nice. I wonder if he’s worried about that.”

“About what, the party?”

“No, about taking me to it. I have gained some weight . . .”

“You’re insane!” Delaney shouted into the phone. “That boy is so beyond infatuated with you it’s ridiculous. There is no way in hell he would be ashamed of taking you to that party.” She pondered for a second. “Let me talk to Derk and see if I can dig anything up. Maybe Henry told him something when they were drinking beers the other night.”

Just as I was thanking her, Henry came through the front door.

“Hey, I have to go,” I said quickly. “See what you can find out. Talk to you later.”

I hung up quickly and turned to see Henry taking off his tie, exposing a patch of his tanned and toned chest. Just like that, I was ready to have him. His sleeves were rolled up and his jacket thrown over one shoulder. He looked sexy as sin.

“Hey, love. Sorry I’m late. Rough day at work.”

Instead of coming over to me to give me a kiss, he went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He popped the top off and tossed the cap to Sir Licks-a-Lot, who liked chasing them around the apartment. Lately, those two had started to get along. I didn’t like it . . . at all.

I hated that he wasn’t giving me the attention I craved and remembered all the unanswered phone calls and text messages I sent him. Rage started to boil over, and I warned whoever could read my mind that I wasn’t responsible for what I was about to say.

“Why didn’t you text or call me? It would be nice to know that you’re alive and not run over by some drunk fruitcake in a taxi.”

“I was just trying to get done as quickly as possible; I’m sorry.”

“It takes two seconds to let me know you’re alive, Henry.”

“I’ll do better next time.” He walked by me to the couch, where he sat down and put his feet up on the coffee table. My world tilted on its axis as Sir Licks-a-Lot jumped on Henry’s lap and laid down. It wasn’t until Henry started petting his head that I lost it.

“What is going on?” I shouted. “Why don’t you want to have sex with me?”

Henry was about to turn the TV on when he stopped himself and looked at me. “What are you talking about, love?”

“Henry, we haven’t had sex in four days. Four days! Do you not find me attractive anymore? Is it because you saw the skinny jeans struggle? I will tell you right now, every woman has to do those kind of moves to put skinny jeans on. It’s not an easy thing.”

Henry set his beer on the coffee table and shook Sir Licks-a-Lot away. Walking up to me, he grabbed my hips and pulled me into him. His green-blue eyes sparkled as they took me in and his side smirk made me all gooey inside.

“I liked watching you put on skinny jeans.”