Read Online Random Acts of Fantasy by Julia Kent - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Julia Kent
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any nipples stand at attention. The girls were tight.
“Does that bra have a bomb in it?” Mr. Asshole Wolverine whispered to his wife, one scanner over, and then I watched three TSA agents to whisk him away, his wife pleading after them, saying, “Harold, I told you not to say bomb !”
And then I was being beamed up to Planet Starlac as the second lieutenant in the Star Trek mission for this episode. Light flashed before my eyes and I saw my skin dissolve into the molecules in motion, neutrons and electrons floating fast in patterns of solid matter and then an amorphous, twisted realignment of the essence of Darla.
Okay. Not really. The scanner did its job, some bureaucrat got to see a blobby image of my blobby nakedness and deem me not unfit for plane travel, and then they made me turn around and let me out to get my bra and stuff.
It was sure as hell easier than I thought, and less invasive than having my locker searched back in high school during one of those “random” drug searches the principal was always organizing, until he was arrested for being the ringleader of a massive pill operation that stretched from Detroit to Miami.
Joe gave me the hairy eyeball.
“You took your bra off in public ? Why?”
If I opened my mouth I knew I would scream Don’t say bomb! so I just shook my head, gathered my things, and marched through the first door my half-blind eyes saw.
To find a Wolverine getting a rectal exam.
Okay, that didn’t happen either, but it would have been a weird kind of coincidence, huh?
Instead, I walked into the men’s room. Just saw a few peens and a lot of guys with really bad aim. A rough hand pinched hard into a spot beneath my shoulder, and finally I found my voice.
“Ow! That hurts!”
“Get out of the men’s room,” Joe said through gritted teeth. Fuming. He was fuming, and all I could think was:
Don’t say bomb!
Trevor
My shoe came untied and I’d bent down to fix it when a very warm, friendly palm settled on one ass cheek and squeezed.
Because I was facing the men’s room Darla had mistakenly stumbled into and had seen Joe rush in after her, ice water ran through me at the touch. That wasn’t Darla’s hand. No woman had touched me like that since Darla, and it made me deeply uncomfortable.
On its own, the discomfort was odd, because being handled by women had been part of my life for enough years that it shouldn’t feel so alien. The implications of finding a strange woman’s touch chilling, and not thrilling, would have to be processed and dissected later. While it was fine to look at other women, it absolutely was not fine to touch when I’d promised Darla that we were monogamous.
Trinogamous? Is that even a word? Whatever Darla, Joe, and I were, it was just we three.
So who the fuck was grabbing my ass in public?
“Trevor!” squealed a familiar voice. An unpleasantly familiar voice. A what the fuck is she doing here? kind of voice.
“Suzy?” Arms went around my neck, which was awkward because she was half standing, half squatting and I was still bent down, hands on my shoelaces. A mouthful of light brown hair that tasted like coconut and chemicals assaulted me.
Joe’s ex.
Joe’s rabid, stalker ex.
The awkward “hug” ended when I stood abruptly, spitting hair out of my mouth and using my hands to draw a zone around me. A No Suzy Bergen Zone. Because Suzy was, well…
You know the saying “Don’t dip your dick in crazy?”
Joe hadn’t heard that one before he slept with Suzy, unfortunately. The wide, over-eager brown eyes that met mine with the full force of a woman who stumbles across an opportunity denied her through three court orders, made my gut ache.
Suzy was all those chicks in those crazy bromance comedies who are over-the-top insane rolled into one tight package. With a heaping dose of borderline personality disorder and a voice that made fingernails on a chalkboard sound like Beethoven.
She was hot. I had to give Joe that. And
“Does that bra have a bomb in it?” Mr. Asshole Wolverine whispered to his wife, one scanner over, and then I watched three TSA agents to whisk him away, his wife pleading after them, saying, “Harold, I told you not to say bomb !”
And then I was being beamed up to Planet Starlac as the second lieutenant in the Star Trek mission for this episode. Light flashed before my eyes and I saw my skin dissolve into the molecules in motion, neutrons and electrons floating fast in patterns of solid matter and then an amorphous, twisted realignment of the essence of Darla.
Okay. Not really. The scanner did its job, some bureaucrat got to see a blobby image of my blobby nakedness and deem me not unfit for plane travel, and then they made me turn around and let me out to get my bra and stuff.
It was sure as hell easier than I thought, and less invasive than having my locker searched back in high school during one of those “random” drug searches the principal was always organizing, until he was arrested for being the ringleader of a massive pill operation that stretched from Detroit to Miami.
Joe gave me the hairy eyeball.
“You took your bra off in public ? Why?”
If I opened my mouth I knew I would scream Don’t say bomb! so I just shook my head, gathered my things, and marched through the first door my half-blind eyes saw.
To find a Wolverine getting a rectal exam.
Okay, that didn’t happen either, but it would have been a weird kind of coincidence, huh?
Instead, I walked into the men’s room. Just saw a few peens and a lot of guys with really bad aim. A rough hand pinched hard into a spot beneath my shoulder, and finally I found my voice.
“Ow! That hurts!”
“Get out of the men’s room,” Joe said through gritted teeth. Fuming. He was fuming, and all I could think was:
Don’t say bomb!
Trevor
My shoe came untied and I’d bent down to fix it when a very warm, friendly palm settled on one ass cheek and squeezed.
Because I was facing the men’s room Darla had mistakenly stumbled into and had seen Joe rush in after her, ice water ran through me at the touch. That wasn’t Darla’s hand. No woman had touched me like that since Darla, and it made me deeply uncomfortable.
On its own, the discomfort was odd, because being handled by women had been part of my life for enough years that it shouldn’t feel so alien. The implications of finding a strange woman’s touch chilling, and not thrilling, would have to be processed and dissected later. While it was fine to look at other women, it absolutely was not fine to touch when I’d promised Darla that we were monogamous.
Trinogamous? Is that even a word? Whatever Darla, Joe, and I were, it was just we three.
So who the fuck was grabbing my ass in public?
“Trevor!” squealed a familiar voice. An unpleasantly familiar voice. A what the fuck is she doing here? kind of voice.
“Suzy?” Arms went around my neck, which was awkward because she was half standing, half squatting and I was still bent down, hands on my shoelaces. A mouthful of light brown hair that tasted like coconut and chemicals assaulted me.
Joe’s ex.
Joe’s rabid, stalker ex.
The awkward “hug” ended when I stood abruptly, spitting hair out of my mouth and using my hands to draw a zone around me. A No Suzy Bergen Zone. Because Suzy was, well…
You know the saying “Don’t dip your dick in crazy?”
Joe hadn’t heard that one before he slept with Suzy, unfortunately. The wide, over-eager brown eyes that met mine with the full force of a woman who stumbles across an opportunity denied her through three court orders, made my gut ache.
Suzy was all those chicks in those crazy bromance comedies who are over-the-top insane rolled into one tight package. With a heaping dose of borderline personality disorder and a voice that made fingernails on a chalkboard sound like Beethoven.
She was hot. I had to give Joe that. And
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