Power Plays Pt. 3.1

 "Just let him take you while your car's in the shop."

I can barely hear her over the rush of water coming out of the shower. "Shouldn't you be going with me?"

"I've already seen it," Chrisette says dismissively. "Just look at the main ranch house, and then it's only, like, one minute east to see that barn that the owners said we could rent for half."

"Why not just do that?"

"Because it's kind of in disrepair."

"I don't know why you think Todd will be of any help." I don't want to go anywhere with him.

Chrisette pokes her head around the shower curtain to swat my ass playfully. "Since you don't like it when I hang out with him alone…" she teases, then ducks back out when I reach for her.

Dear god, if only she knew. "Just come with, baby."

"I can't, Jesse," she says sympathetically. "I have to go to work. Todd said he'd be here at ten."

Fuck that. "I'll see if Scotty can take me," I reply. "He doesn't have shit to do."

"Whatever, that's fine. I gave Todd your number just in case," she adds as she sails out the door.

"You did what now? Chrisette? Hello?"

Before I'm even dressed I call Scott. When he answers he sounds completely distracted.

"Sorry, dude," he finally tells me after I wasted my breath explaining the situation. "I actually am driving Hannah's car today, and I have to pick her up for brunch as payment."

This must be how the Little Match Girl felt as the last flame went out. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I ask. "Crazy Pussy Hannah? Fucking brunch? You hate her!"

"And she hates me," Scott replies, "but that makes the sex a-fucking-mazing"

Even though he can't see it I shake my head. "This is going to bite you in the ass, man."

He laughs, "Come on, son. Everybody gotta stick they dick in crazy at some point. I'm pulling up, so I gotta go. If Hannah thinks I'm talking about her I won't get any road head. She loves giving road head."

"Fuck off, Scotty," I reply.

"You too, man. Later."

The beep of the ended call feels more final than usual. I wait for some sort of fucked up text for the next hour. Get naked and blindfold yourself at 9:57. Some shit like that. If any idiot has stuck dick in crazy, that would be me. Just me letting Crazy get my dick in his ass, and then Crazy turning around and dicking me. This is unhealthy as shit.

When Todd finally shows up I'm so tense that my balls are trying to retreat into my body. The son of a bitch just pulls up to the curb and honks the horn. Todd takes one look at me and goes, "I'm just doing this for Chrissy," when I hop in.

"Me, too, dumbass," I mutter, turning my cap around so I can pull the brim over my eyes. We spend the next forty-five minutes in silence. It gives me plenty of time to figure out how to tell the charming property owner that we don't want to rent her house or her barn. At least, I don't. Chrisette likes the idea of the mason jar, rustic, homespun outdoor wedding. I like the idea of my mother not complaining the whole day.  

When we reach the ranch I hop out without waiting for Todd. Neither do I introduce him to the woman who answers the door. Todd catches up to us as she’s taking me through the open living room.

It's a nice home, but it's never going to work for all of Chrisette’s ancient aunties and uncles. 

"Is it normal for houses this style to have all these levels?" I ask as the tour comes to a close. 

The lady shrugs. "As old as it is, back when they couldn't just even things out with a bulldozer…"

"Chrisette said that you guys need wheelchair access," Todd reminds me.

The woman nods. "Then in that case I do recommend that you check out the old barn. It's a fair-weather-only location, but the whole thing is flat."

I grit my teeth. I knew all that, which is why I asked about all the levels. Todd is just rubbing my face into how much time he spends with the woman I'm about to marry. I get it; you're besties. "Can I poke around there for a bit?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart," the woman says. "I gotta go feed the horses, but it's just two minutes east of here. Keep going down the road; you'll find it."

“We’ll give you a call,” says Todd, shaking her hand. 

We will not do a fucking thing, I don't say as I follow Todd back out to the car. Instead I shut the door a little harder than necessary and make a dumb comment.

"I'm still waiting for you to be useful, bro." It sounds like I'm trying to start a conversation, which is not the case.

Todd raises his eyebrows. "I'm a building contractor for high-end offices and fancy homes, with a background in structural engineering. Did Chrissy never tell you?"

"I have never asked," I respond with pride. Fuck Todd if he thinks I have any interest in him beyond how to legally remove him from this earth. But still, no wonder he can afford such nice shit.

"What do you do?" Todd asks like we're at a Christmas party. How come Chrisette never told him? I know she talks about me, because if her mom or sister don’t answer their phones and Chrisette’s mad at me, Todd is who she calls next.

"Graphic design and a little animation," I respond shortly. It sounds cooler if I don’t add that it’s for a microstock firm and corporate app developers. I've been getting into the graphic novel game a little, cleaning pencil sketches and doing coloration on a freelance basis, but I hate explaining what that means so I don't talk about it.

Todd makes a huh face. "I never would have pegged you as an artist," he comments. “You seem like such a frat boy.”

Chrisette thought the same thing until she got to know me. She and Todd both use frat boy as code for idiot. I wear t-shirts and shorts all the time because I work from home. "I never would have pegged you as a functioning adult. So, we're both surprised."

He looks like he's about to laugh but thinks better of it. “You'd be pretty funny if you weren't such a dick.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

More Bad Cover Art

It's ya boi. I got a new app, so instead of finishing the stories I've been kicking around for years I've been playing with ebook covers. Have I become a better writer since I was last active on this blog? Unlikely. Have I gotten better at graphic design? Worse, if anything!

Terrible!

Very bad!

HAHAHAHAHA

Anyway, these will all be showing up on Smashwords at some point. You're Lucky I'm Drunk is due for release August  18, so I am furiously polishing the second and third parts and am definitely not procrastinating on Literotica or anything.

Smug Little Bastard

If you didn't grow up with country relatives, this grammar might not make a lick of sense. 

Bless your heart.

“You like me, don’t you.”

I looked over at the man standing in the kitchen doorway, his arms folded and his feet apart.

“What?”

He tilted his head. “You like me; I can tell,” he said.

I was dumbstruck for a moment while all the blood in my body rushed to my face. “J.D., where the hell’s this coming from?”

The Worst Days 3.6

I can't look at this anymore without taking a red pen to it. I'm posting the version that a kind fan sent to me, but know that when this finally shows up in ebook form (in 2027? I've set a precedent) it will be less…cringey.

I woke up slowly, comfortable in a warm tangle of flesh and linens. I didn't fully awaken until I realized that I was wrapped around my large bedmate instead of the other way around. The sun was barely cresting the horizon, and purple shadows threw themselves across the room.

Someone knocked on the door, and Fen stirred in my arms. I snatched them away from him and he rolled onto his back.

"Who is up at this ungodly hour?" he groaned.

As if reading his mind, a voice came from the other side of the door. "Fenton, old boy, are you in there?" Almus Tobergus.

Fenton sighed, and looked over at me. "Pull the sheets down a little and moan like you're disappointed."

I raised my eyebrows. "Have you been drinking already?"

"Just do it. I don't want to deal with him this early," he grumbled, getting out of bed. He took his pants off and wrapped a robe around himself and held it like he was hiding an erection. I got the idea.

"But Mr. White, please," I whined loud enough for Tobergus to hear, smacked my palm against my bare stomach, then squealed. I might have been overdoing it.

Watching Him Back 4.6

I remembered my login.

The couch is just large enough that I can straddle my boyfriend’s lap. Crispin’s hands wander over my skin as I kiss his mouth, pull me closer when I grind against him. Our skin burns where it touches. I’m on fire, I’m so hard it hurts. Crispin’s cock curves up against the cleft of my ass. It’s still scary, but that portion of my brain shouting, This will really hurt! gets smaller and more garbled with every taste of Crispin’s tongue.

With lips still pressed to mine Crispin fumbles for the lube. “You ready?”

“I’m still ready,” I respond, lying less this time.

"Then take off your underwear."

"You take it off," I respond. It's kind of fun to be a brat.

The Worst Days 3.5

To read part 3.4 click here, or start from the beginning. Again, thanks to Luz for sending me a copy of this lost tome.

"Here I am," I said casually. Yikes! I thought.

Samarra hoisted herself up on the countertop. "Did you think about what I told you?" she asked.

I opted for honesty. "I did, and frankly I think it's full of holes."

She was clearly taken aback, and an ugly scowl clouded her lush features.

"Seriously," I continued, "I supposed you have a way to get yourself to safety, but there's no way I could leave this country alive if I murdered Fenton White, especially after this party."

Samarra pursed her lips. "And if you didn't kill him?"

You're Lucky I'm Drunk Pt. 1

These things always end up being love stories of a sort. I am, I guess, a closet romantic.

Cooper tripped into my apartment as soon as I opened the door. I couldn't stop laughing long enough to work the key out of the lock, so he had to crawl back and help me.

"I am so shitfaced," I confessed, feeling the world turn a little.

"Me too," Cooper sang, stumbling backward to let me shut the door behind us. He took a big breath and sang even louder, "Me tooooo, I am shitfaced!"

"Shut up; my fucking neighbors!" I hushed him. I was going to need to throw up again soon.

"I'll fuck your neighbors," Cooper snickered. My friend wandered to the fridge, poking through the old takeout containers before finding a couple bottles of Gatorade. He tossed one at me and then cracked his open. "It's got electrolytes," he said his best Idiocracy voice.

That reminded me that I still had puke on my shirt. "I gotta shower," I declared, dropping all the shit in my hands so I could pull my coat off. The floor tilted like a ship deck, but I made it all the way to the bathroom without falling over. No use in taking all my clothes off since they needed to be washed, too. The water pounding on my skull felt so good after the club. I was getting too old for all the smoke and fog machines and strobe lights. Ah, fuck, I was going to be that creepy old guy in the club. If Jennifer hadn't gotten a job in Seattle, we could have been the creepy old couple in the club. But no.

"Marshall! Marsh! What are you doing?" Cooper barged into the bathroom without knocking.

"Showering, dumbass."

"With all your clothes on?"