Read Online My Soon-To-Be Sex Life by Judith Tewes - Free Book Online Page A

hollowness in my gut expand into a deep pit of angst. Or maybe I was getting an ulcer. How superfantastic.
    I kicked off my boots and made for my bed. At least things were in order down here. Things were in their place. My things. My place. Since the basement was unfinished, I had sectioned off a room-sized area by stapling tie-dyed sheets to the exposed wood beams in the ceiling. An old fridge served as my dresser, clothes folded neatly on the wire racks. Stacked milk crates of all colors formed makeshift bookshelves, loaded with a combination of schoolbooks and trashy romance novels I bought at a garage sale.
    I dive-bombed my bed, a bouncy pull-out couch, and instantly regretted it. The mattress was thinner than a panty liner and my hip connected with the bar that spanned the width of the couch. I rolled around until the pain faded, springs poking willy-nilly into my body despite the buffer of several comforters.
    I turned on one of a dozen or so old boomboxes lining the floor. Monty kept finding them in his garage. “I know how you young people like your music,” he’d say and hand me another.
    He had no concept of iPods and their strange smallness. To him, the bigger the better – the easier to fix. Monty used to be an electrician with his own shop. He had loads of appliances and God-knows-what kicking around.
    I tried to stay awake until Monty showed, but the radio static lulled me to sleep.
    The next morning I walked into the living room, ready to give Monty a piece of my mind, but all thoughts of lecturing him about stranger danger and keeping the house locked up fled when I stood in the entranceway. I asked, “Who’s the bitch?”
    The female in question scrambled from her somewhat compromising position – flat on her back on the brown shag carpet, legs spread wide – to face me on all fours.
    Monty sat on the couch watching TV; he’d been rubbing her bare belly with his foot. He put on his slipper and introduced us. “This here’s Mona.” The fingers he ran down her sleek neck had a slight tremor. “I was hoping you two would get acquainted. She’s been hiding in my room, too scared to show herself until today.”
    I held out my hand, and looked directly into doe-brown eyes glazed with residual pleasure. Mona leaned forward, her tongue hanging out ever so slightly, and opened her mouth as if to speak.
    Then she bit me.
    â€œCall her off,” I exclaimed, aiming a low kick at the foot high, two-foot wide Beagle trying to consume my hand.
    I missed. She took another chomp. “Rotten little…oww…”
    My wails sparked her interest. She disengaged her jaws and threw her head back, howling.
    Monty laughed and added his own yips, inciting Mona to produce increasingly higher pitches so it sounded like she was being gutted alive – which wasn’t such a bad idea. In the end, I cleaned and bandaged my perforated hand in the time it took for them to get bored with the whole barking at the moon thing.
    After they settled down I said, “I can’t believe I’ve been here for weeks and haven’t heard Mona the Orgasmically Loud Dog.” Mona lay at Monty’s feet, panting rapidly. Her breathing grew labored. I grew concerned. “Is she okay?”
    â€œShe’s fine. Just hungry. If I don’t feed her every few hours she gets fractious. Who’s a hungry bear, now?” Monty cooed to the gasping dog.
    He talked to her like mom talked to me last week at the hospital. Yikes, they were more alike than they knew. Mona resumed her position, moaning in ecstasy, perhaps how she got her name in the first place, with Monty’s woolen-sock-clad foot rubbing her belly.
    â€œI’m going out for a bit.” I said. “Can I borrow one of your jackets?” Monty had a bewildering array of winter stuff stashed in the porch closet. Most were items he’d picked up from fallen comrades – guys who bit it at