Read Online Random Acts of Fantasy by Julia Kent - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julia Kent
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he’d met her during Intro to Sociology his sophomore year, her little model’s body all his slobbering cock could notice for the first year or so they dated.
(My cock slobbered here and there for her, though it never dipped a toe in the Crazy Suzy love pool.)
“Trevor! What on earth are you doing here?”
“Flying.” Sticking to simple, short sentences was best with Crazy Suzy, because she wasn’t going to let you get a word in edgewise, and because she didn’t listen anyhow.
Ever.
“Haha, silly!” she squealed, hitting me across my abs with some kind of passport wallet thing. Her voice shot up into an octave only dogs and NSA agents could hear, the squeal making my jaw clench. “Of course you’re flying. You wouldn’t be at the airport if you weren’t!” Furtive glances all around me, and then she asked, “Is Joey with you?”
Just then, Joe and Darla emerged from the men’s room, his arm around her shoulders, the two heads huddled together in a conspirators’ talk. It made me smile, and that was my mistake.
Suzy turned around, her face aglow with expectation and promise, like a big-game hunter who’s spotted an injured elephant.
And then her expression morphed into that of an Orc. An Orc with perfectly applied makeup and a lovely, shimmery tan from a bottle.
A tanned Orc with laser eyes that could kill Darla on sight.
Joe’s head was still bent over as Darla giggled, the two walking toward us in that loopy way you walk when you’re entwined in another person, feet not quite in sync, hips jutting and jarring each other. It’s fun when you’re the one with your arm around your woman, her soft side boob catching your rib and making you hard.
But it’s kind of like watching your best friend walk down to his own execution to see him doing it in front of Crazy Suzy, who now looked like she was calculating the tension of the wire she’d need to garrote Darla.
“Joey!” Suzy exclaimed in the Voice of Death. How she dropped three octaves into Exorcist pea-soup-scene territory so quickly was a force of nature to admire.
Joe’s head snapped up and he caught my eyes for a split second as it registered who was standing next to me.
It was like watching hope die.
“Suzy?” he choked out. Now it was Darla’s turn to change expression, those apple cheeks nice and shiny then going slack as Suzy stomped her way to Joe, long, slim, tanned legs in five-inch stilettos click-clacking across the buffed marble floor like gunshots.
Aimed right for Darla’s heart.
Joe’s pleading look as he let go of Darla and steered himself toward Suzy said—without words—that I needed to man up and help him in no uncertain terms.
I’ve got your back , I wanted to tell him. That hand on my ass. Just the memory of it made me shudder. Once a man identifies crazy, his body stops responding to it.
Except when drunk. Unfortunately, the dick shuts off in the presence of alcohol and turns into a golden retriever. It finds friends everywhere and loves to stick its nose in every woman’s crotch.
(Actually, alcohol isn’t always required.)
“Who is that?” Darla asked me, the twist of her neck dangerous and predatory. The hair on my arms stood up, a prickly sensation pouring over all my exposed skin. As Suzy and Darla locked eyes, it was like watching Magneto and Professor X square off, the electricity in the room taking on a taste.
The taste of a cat fight that reached into electromagnetic fields.
“I don’t like her,” Darla added, the words cold and dead, spoken with such conviction and clarity that I began to imagine random items in the airport levitating. Spinning out of control into a vortex of unimagined dimensions wasn’t on our list of things to do in the hour before our plane to Miami boarded.
Sorry. No time for this.
Joe looked like he’d just seen Elijah Wood from Maniac . Or wished he had. Maybe having Suzy scalped would be a kinder way to let her live out her remaining moments, because Darla
(My cock slobbered here and there for her, though it never dipped a toe in the Crazy Suzy love pool.)
“Trevor! What on earth are you doing here?”
“Flying.” Sticking to simple, short sentences was best with Crazy Suzy, because she wasn’t going to let you get a word in edgewise, and because she didn’t listen anyhow.
Ever.
“Haha, silly!” she squealed, hitting me across my abs with some kind of passport wallet thing. Her voice shot up into an octave only dogs and NSA agents could hear, the squeal making my jaw clench. “Of course you’re flying. You wouldn’t be at the airport if you weren’t!” Furtive glances all around me, and then she asked, “Is Joey with you?”
Just then, Joe and Darla emerged from the men’s room, his arm around her shoulders, the two heads huddled together in a conspirators’ talk. It made me smile, and that was my mistake.
Suzy turned around, her face aglow with expectation and promise, like a big-game hunter who’s spotted an injured elephant.
And then her expression morphed into that of an Orc. An Orc with perfectly applied makeup and a lovely, shimmery tan from a bottle.
A tanned Orc with laser eyes that could kill Darla on sight.
Joe’s head was still bent over as Darla giggled, the two walking toward us in that loopy way you walk when you’re entwined in another person, feet not quite in sync, hips jutting and jarring each other. It’s fun when you’re the one with your arm around your woman, her soft side boob catching your rib and making you hard.
But it’s kind of like watching your best friend walk down to his own execution to see him doing it in front of Crazy Suzy, who now looked like she was calculating the tension of the wire she’d need to garrote Darla.
“Joey!” Suzy exclaimed in the Voice of Death. How she dropped three octaves into Exorcist pea-soup-scene territory so quickly was a force of nature to admire.
Joe’s head snapped up and he caught my eyes for a split second as it registered who was standing next to me.
It was like watching hope die.
“Suzy?” he choked out. Now it was Darla’s turn to change expression, those apple cheeks nice and shiny then going slack as Suzy stomped her way to Joe, long, slim, tanned legs in five-inch stilettos click-clacking across the buffed marble floor like gunshots.
Aimed right for Darla’s heart.
Joe’s pleading look as he let go of Darla and steered himself toward Suzy said—without words—that I needed to man up and help him in no uncertain terms.
I’ve got your back , I wanted to tell him. That hand on my ass. Just the memory of it made me shudder. Once a man identifies crazy, his body stops responding to it.
Except when drunk. Unfortunately, the dick shuts off in the presence of alcohol and turns into a golden retriever. It finds friends everywhere and loves to stick its nose in every woman’s crotch.
(Actually, alcohol isn’t always required.)
“Who is that?” Darla asked me, the twist of her neck dangerous and predatory. The hair on my arms stood up, a prickly sensation pouring over all my exposed skin. As Suzy and Darla locked eyes, it was like watching Magneto and Professor X square off, the electricity in the room taking on a taste.
The taste of a cat fight that reached into electromagnetic fields.
“I don’t like her,” Darla added, the words cold and dead, spoken with such conviction and clarity that I began to imagine random items in the airport levitating. Spinning out of control into a vortex of unimagined dimensions wasn’t on our list of things to do in the hour before our plane to Miami boarded.
Sorry. No time for this.
Joe looked like he’d just seen Elijah Wood from Maniac . Or wished he had. Maybe having Suzy scalped would be a kinder way to let her live out her remaining moments, because Darla
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