The Randy Romance Novelist (3 page)

“She paints a lovely picture, doesn’t she?” Derk added.

Henry rubbed the side of his face. “I think I was just bitch-slapped by the English language.”

“I’m glad you realized that.” Delaney folded her hands together and continued. “Like I said before I was rudely insulted by Mr. I-Think-I-Look-Like-A-Young-Bradley-Cooper, we booked the venue and now have two months until the wedding to plan.”

“Two months?” I shouted. “How are you going to plan a wedding in two months?”

“Wedding?” Delaney laughed right before she flipped the binder open to a pop-up display of a massive pink penis. “I don’t care about the wedding. I’m concerned about the bachelorette party. Our parents are taking care of the wedding, what I need you to plan is the party of a lifetime, full of penises, strippers, more penises, COCK-tails, and did I mention penises?” Delaney looked off into a faraway place as she spoke. “Let me paint you a picture, Rosie. This is my last and only night to experience the feel of a man’s dick flopping against my face while cheesy stripper music blasts through my ears in the background. This needs to be the most drunkenly epic night full of male genitalia, sex music, praise for my breasts, and inappropriate pelvic thrusting of strangers.”

I gulped. I was so not ready for the challenge.

“Sounds like a good time,” Henry said.

“It will be a good time! Think of the possibilities. We can wear penises on our shirts, drink from penis cups, with penis straws, while eating penis cookies decorated with penis candies. We can carry around sashes that look like penises, blow penis whistles, and play pin the balls on the giant penis. We can wear penis headbands that bounce around on springs, gyrating to the beat flowing through our bodies. We can have a penis piñata full of little penis eggs that when you open them up, there is a macaroni penis inside. We can hire men to wear penis costumes who follow us around, poking from behind every so often, begging for a good stroke . . .”

“I get it,” I held up my hand. “You want penises at the party. Seems like you have that all covered.”

A maniacal laugh popped out of Delaney’s mouth as she shook her head. “Oh, dear and sweet Rosie. I don’t have this all covered . . . you do.” She pointed her manicured finger at me.

“Excuse me?” I asked, sweat starting to form on my upper lip.

Inspecting her nails, she sat back in her chair and laughed as she spoke. “Rosie, as my maid of honor, you are in charge of the bachelorette party. I don’t want a bridal shower, and I really don’t care what my bouquet looks like as I walk down the aisle, but I do care about the bachelorette party and the penis count that will be attending. It is your responsibility to deliver.” She pushed the binder toward me. “This is your reference book; use it. Let it be your guiding light as you sift through cheap and crappy penis memorabilia and the high quality kind that shows every vein. I’m depending on you to make this happen for me. I need this, Rosie. I need veins!” She gripped her fist to her chest in desperation.

Again, I gulped . . . big time. A bachelorette party, under Delaney’s demands. Pretty sure losing my virginity was easier than what Delaney was demanding.

I flipped through the pages, scanning through her collection of strip clubs in the city, her suggestions for logoed tchotchkes, or shall I say . . . dick-chkes. Page after page read like a horny woman on a plastic-coated penis bender.

“You want all of this?”

“Rosie, I want an epic night.” She waved and smoothed out the air above her with her hands, trying to paint a picture for me. “A night that I can look back on when I’m talking to my grandchildren and tell them that yes, grand-mammy celebrated her one last night as a single woman in total erotically charged freedom, that she allowed man bushes to grind against her leg and flaccid penises to be aroused by the mere sight of my pert breasts—because they will be on display that night, nipples barely covered. I’m counting on you to make this night the most memorable night of my entire life.”

No pressure or anything.

Henry cut in before I could say anything. “Poker, pizza, and beers for you?” he asked Derk.

“You know how we do,” Derk nodded.

Ugh, men. They make it so easy.

“Better get planning, Rosie. You only have a few months to make my cock-filled dreams come true.”

“Lucky me.”

Fungal Cock

HENRY

“Dude, why are you walking like that?” Freddy asked me.

I stirred my coffee before turning to face him. Last night Rosie was a beast; straight up, it was the first time I was genuinely concerned that she might bite my penis off. After Delaney and Derk left the apartment, Rosie paced the apartment in a fit of panic, wondering how she was going to plan Delaney’s dream bachelorette party when she knew nothing about party planning, let alone male strippers, or penis party games. Her nerves turned into animalistic instincts, and before I could react, she had me pinned to the floor, pantless and attacking my dick like there was a hidden treasure under the layers of tubed skin.

It wasn’t until I felt the piercing of my thigh that I cried, “Uncle,” and begged her to stop. You would think, since her nail dug deeply into my inner thigh, that I would be the one coddled—considering the too-close-to-my-dick part—but that wasn’t the case. I spent the rest of the night coddling her as she cried uncontrollably in my arms.

Not our best night, but then again, I couldn’t imagine spending a night without her, even if it meant watching her tear-encrusted mascara eyes look up at me while snot dripped from her nose. The stress seemed to tumble down on top of her, and she lost it completely.

Looking Freddy dead in the eyes, I answered him. “Rosie punctured me in the thigh last night with her lady claws.”

“While doing the dirty?”

I just nodded.

Covering his mouth, he said, “Dude! That shit’s crazy. Was she sucking you off?”

Just a heads up, Freddy is the biggest tool bag one could be unfortunate enough to meet. Just think if you took a meathead from the gym, combined him with a frat boy—make that three frat boys—and all the original cast members from
The Jersey Shore
, mixed them up into a melting pot of “Black Ice” car freshener, and you’ve got Freddy Roma.

“That’s none of your business, dickhead. Seriously, you really think I’m going to stand here and talk about my relationship with you? I value and respect my girl way too much to belittle her in front of you.”

Freddy tilted his head to the side and studied me like a dog looks when you talk to them but they can’t quite figure out what you’re trying to convey. “Wait, so you don’t want to talk about the sex you had?”

“No, I really don’t,” I stated matter-of-factly.

Still confused, he smiled and then slapped his hand against my chest, sending me back a few steps so I bumped against the counter. “That good, huh? I get it, man-brony, too speechless from a good fuck.” The douche canoe wiggled his eyebrows at me, causing a little puke to gather in my mouth. He stretched his giant gym arms over his head and said, “Had one of those nights myself. Met this pair of luscious tits at the gym yesterday; she was working her inner thighs on the machine and staring me down as I pumped a cool three-fifty on the bench. She was one of those gym hos that wears a sports bra and a pair of spandex shorts. When she bent over, I could practically see the meat of her pussy begging for me to play around with it. So, what did I do? I went up behind her as she bent over and pelvic thrusted her ass.”

I wanted nothing to do with this conversation. I had zero incentive to see where the dumbbell dumbass was going with this, but I couldn’t help but ask one question. “You shot your junk into her backside? Did you even know her?”

“No, never met her before.”

“But you humped her ass at the gym? How is that even something people do?”

Freddy threw his head back and laughed. “Bro-seph, you’ve been out of the circuit for too long. That’s how you pick up ladies now.”

By pelvic thrusting unsuspecting women? I sent a mental thank you to Rosie for wanting to be with me. If that was really the new pick up move, I would never be with anyone . . . ever. You couldn’t pay me enough to shove my dick against an unknown bent over woman. I respected them too much.

“Wasn’t aware dating a woman for two months was a century of time.”

“Two months too long, in my opinion.” Freddy took one step closer and leaned in to talk to me, as if we were the best of friends, when in fact, if I had the opportunity and I wasn’t afraid the dude could crush my skull, I would chop his dick off. “When you ditch the clinger and you’re back in the game, all you need to do is go up behind women and push your dick into their backs. It helps if you have a halfey so she can get an idea of your size, but don’t go full dick on her, that’s just creepy.”

“Oh, that’s creepy? I would never have guessed,” Sarcasm dripped from my words, but Freddy was too dense to pick up on it. “And, fuck you, Rosie is not a clinger.” Couldn’t let that comment slip by.

“Wow, brutha. Settle down, I’m sure she’s a specimen in bed. With your good looks, there’s no way you would be tagging along a dog on a leash.”

So many wrong things, just so many.

“Are you hitting on me?” I asked, trying to push his buttons, since I was on the verge of ramming my coffee mug through his forehead.

“What? No!” He practically shouted, looking around. “Bro-tanomo Bay, you know I like the slit and clit in my life. Have you not heard any of the stories I’ve told you? Last week alone I had seven chicks suck my cock, two at the same time, and I boned ten pussies, three in one night. I don’t play meat swords.”

“That’s offensive,” I pointed at him. “Everything that comes out of your mouth is pretty much the most offensive thing I’ve ever heard. And it sounds to me like you are overcompensating for some inner dark secrets you aren’t ready to let surface. Answer me this, at the gym, do you blow dry your dick in front of everyone?”

“People who don’t are just asking for a fungal cock.”

I nodded, took a sip of my coffee, and then said, “I think you might be gay.”

“Fuck you; I’m not gay.”

I spoke in calming tones. “It’s all right, there is nothing wrong with being gay. I know some pretty awesome people who are gay; they are just like you and me, they’re not diseased nor do they belong on another planet like some people might think. Being gay might actually bump up your cool factor.”

Crossing his arms, Freddy asked, “Why do you think I’m gay?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “To me, when a guy goes out of his way to tell another man about the amount of ‘pussy’ he eats in a night, he has to be covering up something. There is no way a guy can be that douchey without hiding a secret he’s too scared to let out.”

In all honesty, I had no clue about Freddy’s sexual preference, and I really didn’t care; that was his business, but if I could mind-fuck him for a brief moment in time to get him off my back, then I would.

Pausing to think for a second, Freddy rubbed his chin, a worried look on his face. Before he spoke, a nervous laugh escaped him. “We were just bro-ing, nothing wrong with that. Women talk all the time, that doesn’t make them lesbians.”

“In fact, it doesn’t,” I pointed my cup at him and started to walk away.

“I’m not gay,” Freddy called out, another nervous laugh escaping him.

Rolling my eyes, I worked my way back to my cubicle, where I had a framed picture of Rosie right next to my computer. I sat down in my chair and stared at the picture. She was wearing one of her cute polka dot dresses, this one was pink with white dots. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, random brown wisps framing her beautiful face. She was looking off to the side and there was a gorgeous smile on her face. It was one of my favorite pictures of her because it captured her true spirit, the girl I fell in love with back in college, and the girl who I’m so fucking lucky to call mine now.

Needing to talk to her, I pulled out my phone and sent her a text message.

Henry: Can’t we live on an island of our own where we don’t have to talk to douche bag co-workers but instead lie in each other’s arms . . . naked?

I moved my mouse to wake up my computer, where another picture of Rosie popped up on the screen. This one was of me and her in Central Park under a giant tree. A warmth spread through me as I took in her beautiful blue eyes staring into the camera. Seriously, the most gorgeous woman you will ever meet. One day, she will be my wife, no question about it.

My phone vibrated against the wood of my desk, letting me know my girl had texted me back.

Rosie: Freddy corner you in the kitchen again?

She was in the know about my douche bag co-worker; it was the one complaint I had about my job. If it wasn’t for Freddy, I would have the perfect career, but no one could really have that, could they?

Henry: You guessed it, love. Although, I think I might have given him a complex.

Rosie: Tell him his quads were too small? Did he miss leg day too many times?

I laughed out loud and then remembered I was having a conversation through text. I collected myself and texted her back.

Henry: Ha-ha . . . I fear for my life if I ever say something like that. No, I just asked him if he was gay.

Rosie: There is nothing wrong with gay people.

Henry: I know! But I pointed out the fact that he was overcompensating for something and suggested that maybe he might be gay. When I left, it looked like he was really thinking about it.

Rosie: That would be an unfortunate addition to the gay community if it’s true. From the stories you’ve told me, he seems like a complete putz.

I’m about to text her back when I hear my boss’s door open. Quickly stuffing my phone away in my jacket pocket, I opened my inbox and started scanning through emails, looking for important ones to answer first. Heavy footsteps sounded along the lacquered office floors, growing closer and closer to my cube.