The Randy Romance Novelist (27 page)

A snarly dog was now holding my hand; Rosie’s lip curled in disgust, and she didn’t even bother saying hi. Tasha picked up on Rosie’s attitude.

“Good to see you too, Rosie. Hey, I never got to apologize for when you walked in on Henry and me.”

“Nope,” I shook my head. “You’re not talking about that because nothing happened, and don’t you even try to make it seem like something happened. Honestly, Tasha, neither of us want to talk to you, so take your bad wig and alcoholic beverage and go make an embarrassment of yourself somewhere else.”

Tasha’s smile turned into a sneer, and she was about to say something most likely incredibly rude, when she saw someone from behind us approach. She straightened her posture and lowered her drink.

“Darlene, Danielle, you look fantastic,” Tasha complimented.

Carefully, I turned both myself and Rosie, so we opened up our little circle to let in Darlene, Danielle, Eric, and two executives from Legacy. I squeezed Rosie’s hand, trying to telepathically let her know these were important people.

“Thank you, Tasha, you as well,” Darlene responded. “Henry, it’s good to see you. And who is this lovely lady standing next to you?”

I cleared my throat and gazed down at Rosie. “This is my beautiful girlfriend, Rosie Bloom. She works over at
Friendly Felines
as a columnist and is also writing her first novel. She is an incredibly talented writer.”

Rosie’s face went soft and her body relaxed.

“Yeah, and we all went to college together,” Tasha cut in, slapping Rosie on the back, who fell slightly forward.

Clunk.

The sound of metal hitting the hard wood floor rang through our tiny circle. Rosie stood ramrod straight next to me, as all of our heads glanced down to where the noise came from.

Between Rosie’s legs, on the ground, were two gold marble looking balls connected together by a string. As a collective group, we all bent at the waists to get a better look at what just fell out of Rosie’s dress, holding our drinks by our sides. The only one who wasn’t bending over was Rosie, who was frozen in place, in mid-handshake mode, a look of mortification plastered across her face.

My heart beat at a rapid rate, my pulse picked up, and all I wanted to do was pull Rosie into a hug and shelter her from whatever was about to happen. I didn’t care what people thought; all I cared about was protecting my girl.

“Oh, dear,” Darlene said, getting a good look at the gold marbles. “Are those Ben Wa balls?”

Tasha, the bitch that she was, bent a little closer and confirmed for the group. “Yes, they are, in fact, Ben Wa balls.”

“What are those?” Eric asked, not making the situation better.

Rosie still stood frozen, while Tasha answered for her. “I’m glad you asked, Eric. Ben Wa balls are a popular kink toy made famous by
Fifty Shades of Grey
. They are used as a stimulator to flex and tighten the vaginal muscles, while also creating slight vibrations within your uterine walls . . . a little fun for the lady clenching to hold them in.”

“Oh,” the group said together, looking at Rosie.

She giggled and waved her little fingers at everyone. “A spicy life is a healthy life, am I right? Ladies have to make things tight so Legacy condoms don’t take away all the sensation from men.”

Oh, shit . . .

She realized what she said and started to backpedal. “I mean, because they’re so strong and durable. Nothing is getting through those suckers. Henry and I use them all the time, sometimes four times a day, and never once has his peen chafed. Double wrapping is child’s play when it comes to Legacy. Condoms rock!” She fist-pumped the air.

Silence enveloped us and the need to bury my face in a punch bowl was overwhelming. I could feel the promotion I worked my ass off for slowly slipping out of my grasp.

Not being able to handle awkward silences very well, Rosie continued, her balls still on the floor between her legs. She put her finger on her chin and looked up at the sky while she spoke. “You know, now that I think about it, Legacy is a fantastic company when it comes to latex. We had a lot of sex when I first lost my virginity, and I can’t recall a time when I thought, ‘Ouch, my vagina hurts from so much rubber rubbing inside’.” As if a light bulb went off in her head, she said, “Oh, you should use that in your campaign. No raw vaginas here.”

Fucking crickets.

“Any who,” she sighed and put a hand on her hip. “I’m just going to grab my balls here and mosey on over to the drink station. All this talking has made me parched. Can I get anyone a drink?”

No one responded.

“Okay, one sodie for me then. Check!” she drew a check mark in the air. “If anyone wants to borrow my balls, let me know,” she laughed awkwardly. “Just kidding, my friend Delaney said you don’t share vagina things.”

With that, she bent forward and reached for her Ben Wa balls, when a giant rip rang through the stillness of our group. I knew it was Rosie; it had to have come from her, not just because she was now stagnant in her bent over position, holding her chest, but because that would just be her luck.

“Oh, dear, what was that?” Darlene asked.

“Pretty sure it was Rosie,” Tasha said.

I didn’t know what to do, what to say. All that kept flying through my mind was giving Tasha a swift kick to the taco.

Rosie raised her hand from her bent over position. “It was me. Just a little party trick.” Slowly, she grabbed the balls by the string with her finger and then sprung upright, like the bend and snap movement from
Legally Blonde
.

Nausea ran rampant through me . . . the sweats were consuming the back of my neck, and I felt physically incapable of helping my girl.

The minute I took in the scene in front of me, I was pretty sure my eyes bulged out of their sockets.

Standing tall with her arms bent, hands right next to armpits, T-Rex style, balls dangling, was Rosie with two sharp wires poking out of the front of her dress, like she had a triceratops trying to ram its way through her cleavage.

“Is that . . . your underwire?” Danielle pointed at Rosie’s chest.

“Surprise!” Rosie shouted, raising her arms above her head and lightly shimmying her chest at the group. “Anyone want to hang their coat?” To demonstrate what she was talking about, she placed the string connecting the balls on the exposed wire of her bra and smiled brightly. “The term ‘rack’ it’s quite literal in this situation, right?” she elbowed Tasha next to her, who stepped away, disgusted.

“Rosie,” I said gently, wanting to shield her from all the judging eyes.

“Tough crowd,” she huffed. “Well, this has been fun, but I just remembered I have to finish stuffing the giant papier mâché penis at home. Don’t worry, I’ve got a mega pack of Legacy condoms going inside. Go Legacy,” she said, with less gusto than before.

Before I could grab her hand in mine and walk her out the door, she sprinted through the party, balls flapping behind her, and she got in the elevator.

I handed my drink to Eric to go after her when he gripped my shoulder to stop me. “I need to speak with you, now.”

I didn’t like the tone of his voice at all.

Fuck me.

***

By the time I got home, the apartment was completely dark, Sir Licks-a-Lot was lying in one of Rosie’s bras, rubbing his face against the cup, and there was a lump on one side of the bed.

Rosie.

I took off my jacket and rested it against the chair in our bedroom. I stared at her the entire time I took off my tie and my button-up shirt. I’ve known Rosie for a long time, but not once had I ever experienced a night with her like the one we shared tonight.

She insulted the brand, then tried to backpedal her way through the insult by exposing our sex life to a very inappropriate level, so now the most important people in charge of my job know I’m some kind of sex fiend that, in fact, doesn’t make his girlfriend’s pussy raw, thanks to Legacy.

Christ.

After all that, she wound up parading her vagina balls off the underwire of her bra for everyone to see. I had to give the girl credit, she did put on a good show, a mortifying one, but a good one.

The last thing I wanted to do was go into a conference room with Eric after she left. I wanted to chase after Rosie and tell her everything was going to be okay, that I wasn’t mad at her, that I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t hurt. I knew she was embarrassed; I could tell by the way her cheeks flamed up with an adorable blush.

But that wasn’t an option, because when Eric told me to meet him in the conference room, I knew I had one choice, to try to keep my job, especially since Rosie and I would be bringing a baby into the world.

When I walked into the room, I had one thing in mind: keep my damn job. Fuck the director position, I just needed a steady paycheck. I would figure out everything else after that.

When I arrived in the room, I was only expecting to see Eric, not Darlene as well. At that moment, I knew it was over. There is only so much you can do in front of clients, and your girlfriend dropping her vaginas balls on the floor in front of them while insulting the product wasn’t something clients got over very quickly.

The words still rang through my head as I brushed my teeth.

“Henry, you’re going to have to pack up your cube.”

My stomach dropped, and I immediately thought I was going to throw up. Without even thinking, I stood up for Rosie, telling them she’s been having a hard time lately with working from home, feeling cooped up with a cat who won’t stop licking his crotch, and I couldn’t help it, I dropped the bomb on them, praying they would take mercy on me. I told them she was expecting and she’s been a little hormonal. I begged them to reconsider, to think about my unborn child. Yup, I went there. I had no shame. I pulled a Rosie and had diarrhea of the mouth.

It didn’t change their minds; they still told me to pack my cube.

I nodded my head in defeat and started to walk away when Eric started laughing hysterically. His laugh would haunt me for days.

He then proceeded to tell me that I had to pack my cube because I was moving into a new office. I got the job.

Come to find out, Legacy wasn’t the kind of company that based their decisions off the people they would be working with, they based them off the product and who could sell it the best. Imagine that.

They chose my campaign before Rosie even began her insanity for the night. Afterwards, I talked to the executives at Legacy, and they said if I could still produce a campaign like the one I offered while taking care of my rather crazy and pregnant girlfriend, then they wanted me on their team.

I had never felt more relieved in my entire life. I left that party feeling lighter, not just because Tasha was out of the picture. She would be working somewhere else because it was too beneath her to take my job, or report to me, but for the first time in a month, I felt relief for my future.

I was going to be able to provide for my family.

After I brushed my teeth, I slipped into bed and pressed my chest up against Rosie’s back, wrapping my arm around her stomach and burying my head into her hair. I gently rubbed her belly, smiling to myself about the little life we’d created.

First thing tomorrow, I would be calling Derk. We were going ring shopping before his bachelor party. It was time to make Rosie mine forever.

Despite her quirkiness, inability to stop talking, and aptitude for bringing on the worst scenarios imaginable, I couldn’t imagine my life without her. Her smile, those lips, her eyes, her genuine and innocent heart, her tenacity, and her beautiful soul. I not only wanted them to be a part of me, I needed them in my life to breathe. Rosie was everything to me, I would be damned if I took another breath in this life without her by my side.

It was time I took my randy little romance novelist and made her an engaged one.

Beat That Meat

ROSIE

Last night would go down in history as the worst night of my life. It beat kicking Atticus in the crotch, exposing my neon asshole on a bowling date, plastering my heel through squirrel tail’s penis picture, and even confessing my undying love to a man who made out with his dog.

Nothing that I did for the rest of my life would beat vagina balls falling out in front of Henry’s esteemed guests at the party, only to be followed up by my decade-old bra popping through my dress for all to see.

Any other normal person would have thought it was time to excuse yourself to the bathroom. No, not me. I liked to perform. I liked to hang coochey covered marbles off my musty old bra as a party trick.

Congratulations to me, I failed at life.

Before Henry even popped one of his eyeballs open this morning, I grabbed the bag I’d packed for myself last night, loaded all the bachelorette party items into a taxi, and went straight to the venue. Luckily enough, they opened the doors after four hours of me sitting on the curb with a giant penis under my arm, and a penis straw hanging out of my mouth. I refused to answer any of Henry’s texts or calls; I was too mortified to even look at him.

I completely understood why he didn’t want to chase after me last night. Operation Be Sexy failed miserably. Definitely didn’t go as planned.

This morning, when I was sneaking out, I contemplated just leaving for good, giving Henry a way out of the nightmare I’d created, but I couldn’t bear the thought of not being with him. I didn’t want to trap him with baby news; I wanted him to want me for me.

So, while I sat on the curb, waiting for the club owner to arrive, I thought about my next plan, my final push to reclaim my man, not that I’d lost him or anything, but after last night, pretty sure our relationship was dangling by a thread.

The only idea I could think of, to really make him love me, was to go erotic on him. Men liked erotic women, women who liked a little role-play and a slap to the ass.

I was going to pull out the big guns . . . I was going to go Fifty Shades on him.

Still feeling a little sour about last night, but happy with my plan, I spent the entire afternoon decorating the room Henry had booked for the bachelorette party.