Read Online Reality Jane by Shannon Nering - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shannon Nering
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Cush! I’d love to get a thousand bucks to look fabulous and party. Not sure what Mr. Rap Star gets. Free promotion? A boner? I guess I expected a storyline or something. Imagine that— story . What’s so hard about that? Girl meets boy, girl dry-humps boy, boy grinds girl, girl and boy ride off into sunset in white-pimp-limo with hot-tub. Come on!”
“ Shhh .” Craig put his finger up to my lips and pulled me onto the bed. “Enough talk. Let’s you and I grind.”
And just as I was getting into my harangue, it was over, which was probably for the best. Every minute with Craig was like a nosh of heaven. I didn’t want Lucy infecting that too. It was bad enough that my career, my very future, revolved around her neuroses. No sense bringing her, or them, back to the bedroom with me.
I waited, hoping that during sex he might bring it up while staring romantically into my eyes. No such luck—it was a sprintof a session. Then, nearly asleep, my body fitting neatly inside his chest cavity and our legs intertwined, he squeezed me softly as I prepared for some lovey-dovey talk.
“Hey, babe?”
“Yeah?” I nuzzled even closer, smiling sweetly.
“Just wondering,” Craig hesitated. “Can you help me write this pitch for North Face tomorrow?” He sounded almost businesslike.
“Uh. . . okay.” I tried to be enthusiastic. “I mean, sure.”
“About five pages.” He stroked my hair. “You know, my bio, and some kind of storyline for filming my expedition—the usual. They want it end of day.”
“Oh. . . um. . . sounds good.”
“Good night, babe.” He squeezed me.
Ten minutes passed. I was nearly asleep when he pulled me toward him a second time. “I wha oon.”
“What?” I whispered. “Craig, did you say something?”
Nothing.
“Hey, did you say something?” I repeated.
“ Um-hmm ,” he sighed deeply. “I lugoo.”
“ What ?” His face was stuck in my hair and he was half asleep. I turned to him. “What did you say?”
“I love you.” He sounded irritated, or at the very least, unromantic. “Yeesh.”
“Oh, yeah, me too,” I whispered carefully, not wanting to upset him. My heart pounded as I felt a sudden gush of emotion. “I love you, too.”
Craig released his Samson-like arms from my naked chest, rolled onto his back, and let out a giant sigh.
“A re you sure everybody does this?” I asked warily.
“Of course. Time for you to clean up this sugar shack!”
No female had ever ventured this intimately into this part of my body, and I was pretty sure no man had either. Laser Lydia’s Aurora light beam was focused somewhere between my bikini line and my butt cheeks, in a place that should not have had hair. She nudged my legs further apart, her goggles—and gloves—firmly in place.
“Ow,” I bellowed, straddling her table on my hands and knees—the height of inelegance.
“Just let it out, babe. Almost done!” she announced, like a surgeon who’d been sawing through bones for years.
This was all standard fare in the beauty biz. Clients on all fours, hair follicles burnt—in this case lasered—to a crispy black death.
“But all I care about is the hair on my actual bikini line,” I said, my butt in the air. “Nobody will see that .”
“Nobody?” Lydia stopped to make eye contact, extracting her fingers from what felt like my butt crack and nudging her purple space goggles onto her forehead for emphasis. “How about your husband? Hmm ?”
“You know I don’t have a—”
“Exactly.” She paused, scolding me for my naiveté. “Men notice. Don’t kid yourself, babe.”
“Lydia, you do remember I have a guy, don’t you?” I said, wondering how she could forget about my man-angel, love-Buddha, and more-than-likely if-there-was-a-God future husband Craig. “We’ve been together almost eight months!”
“That’s great, sweetie,” she said, focused on the task at hand. “I have to turn up the intensity for you because your hair is
“ Shhh .” Craig put his finger up to my lips and pulled me onto the bed. “Enough talk. Let’s you and I grind.”
And just as I was getting into my harangue, it was over, which was probably for the best. Every minute with Craig was like a nosh of heaven. I didn’t want Lucy infecting that too. It was bad enough that my career, my very future, revolved around her neuroses. No sense bringing her, or them, back to the bedroom with me.
I waited, hoping that during sex he might bring it up while staring romantically into my eyes. No such luck—it was a sprintof a session. Then, nearly asleep, my body fitting neatly inside his chest cavity and our legs intertwined, he squeezed me softly as I prepared for some lovey-dovey talk.
“Hey, babe?”
“Yeah?” I nuzzled even closer, smiling sweetly.
“Just wondering,” Craig hesitated. “Can you help me write this pitch for North Face tomorrow?” He sounded almost businesslike.
“Uh. . . okay.” I tried to be enthusiastic. “I mean, sure.”
“About five pages.” He stroked my hair. “You know, my bio, and some kind of storyline for filming my expedition—the usual. They want it end of day.”
“Oh. . . um. . . sounds good.”
“Good night, babe.” He squeezed me.
Ten minutes passed. I was nearly asleep when he pulled me toward him a second time. “I wha oon.”
“What?” I whispered. “Craig, did you say something?”
Nothing.
“Hey, did you say something?” I repeated.
“ Um-hmm ,” he sighed deeply. “I lugoo.”
“ What ?” His face was stuck in my hair and he was half asleep. I turned to him. “What did you say?”
“I love you.” He sounded irritated, or at the very least, unromantic. “Yeesh.”
“Oh, yeah, me too,” I whispered carefully, not wanting to upset him. My heart pounded as I felt a sudden gush of emotion. “I love you, too.”
Craig released his Samson-like arms from my naked chest, rolled onto his back, and let out a giant sigh.
“A re you sure everybody does this?” I asked warily.
“Of course. Time for you to clean up this sugar shack!”
No female had ever ventured this intimately into this part of my body, and I was pretty sure no man had either. Laser Lydia’s Aurora light beam was focused somewhere between my bikini line and my butt cheeks, in a place that should not have had hair. She nudged my legs further apart, her goggles—and gloves—firmly in place.
“Ow,” I bellowed, straddling her table on my hands and knees—the height of inelegance.
“Just let it out, babe. Almost done!” she announced, like a surgeon who’d been sawing through bones for years.
This was all standard fare in the beauty biz. Clients on all fours, hair follicles burnt—in this case lasered—to a crispy black death.
“But all I care about is the hair on my actual bikini line,” I said, my butt in the air. “Nobody will see that .”
“Nobody?” Lydia stopped to make eye contact, extracting her fingers from what felt like my butt crack and nudging her purple space goggles onto her forehead for emphasis. “How about your husband? Hmm ?”
“You know I don’t have a—”
“Exactly.” She paused, scolding me for my naiveté. “Men notice. Don’t kid yourself, babe.”
“Lydia, you do remember I have a guy, don’t you?” I said, wondering how she could forget about my man-angel, love-Buddha, and more-than-likely if-there-was-a-God future husband Craig. “We’ve been together almost eight months!”
“That’s great, sweetie,” she said, focused on the task at hand. “I have to turn up the intensity for you because your hair is
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