Read Online Second You Sin by Scott Sherman - Free Book Online Page A

then the rouge, and lastly the lipstick.
    Bright red, ridiculously garish, but I knew that was what Chase wanted.
    Then the wig.
    I looked in the mirror. I was almost unrecognizable.
    Even though I knew what was coming, and that Chase would not want his blows to hurt me, I stil felt a little nervous.
    I was studying myself in the mirror when—wham!
    —Chase hit me in the back of the head. I hadn’t even heard him come in. I saw my own eyes widen in surprise.
    I reached around to feel how much damage Chase had done. While most of the white cream was caught in my wig, I felt some drip down the back of my neck and trickle down my shirt, giving me the shivers. I wiped it away and brought my hand to my mouth.
    Delicious.
    “Hey,” I shouted, “no fair!”
    In one swift move, I leapt from the stool and turned to face my attacker. Years of gymnastics training had made me limber and quick on my feet. I crouched to defend myself.
    “No one is safe from Socko the Magnificent!” Chase thundered. He stood at the doorway, tal and imposing. Wel , as imposing as you can be in shoes that stuck out two feet, green pants, a rainbow-striped T-shirt, blue suspenders, white makeup, and a huge green Afro.
    Not to mention the red bulb attached to his nose.

    My outfit was similar.
    The clown fight was on.
    Chase—wel , I suppose I should cal him Socko when he’s dressed like this—squeezed the bicycle horn hooked to his waist. “Come on, kids,” he said in a tril ing falsetto, “it’s time to get dirty! ” He turned around to grab another of what must have been fifty pies off the cart by the door. I quickly headed over to the other cart and seized my own weapon. Just as Chase brought his arm back to pelt me with a plate of pecan-topped goodness, I caught him ful in the face with the spray of an old-fashioned seltzer bottle.
    “Take that.” I laughed as he blinked and sputtered.
    He launched the pie at me, but, momentarily blinded, missed by a mile. I turned to grab a pie of my own, but as I reached to get it, Socko came up behind me and plopped one right on my head. How does he move so fast in those stupid shoes? I wondered.
    I retaliated by dropping to my knees and hitting him with a plateful of Boston cream pie right in his crotch, using the bulging tube within as my target.
    Socko growled.
    We were in constant movement, dodging and weaving. Both of us were laughing and panting as we ran around and fought to keep our balance on the increasingly slick floor. We cal ed out sil y taunts. We winged each other, hitting arms, legs, shoulders.
    It was Socko who got in the next good shot, hitting me squarely in the face. My features were covered in whipped cream. A classic Three Stooges moment. I used my hands to wipe the sweet topping away from my eyes and licked my lips to clear my mouth.

    Socko stood in front of me, breathing heavily. He stared glassy-eyed at my dessert-frosted face.
    “God, you’re beautiful,” he moaned.
    He pul ed me toward him and kissed me hard. His tongue darted into my mouth. We both tasted Cool Whip. His strong arms pul ed me closer. Then he ripped off my shirt.
    For the next twenty minutes, we continued to pelt each other with pies and seltzer, but also tried to rip off each other’s clothing, which, conveniently, was already strategical y cut and loosely seamed. I don’t know where Chase got tear-away clown clothing, or if he had it custom made (I’d love to hear how he explained that to his tailor), but even with our greasy hands, it wasn’t long before we were down to our underwear and floppy shoes.
    While I can’t say that wet and messy clown sex is particularly my thing, Socko did look hot. His long and lean gym-toned muscles glistened from the various syrups and creams that covered him. He panted sexily from a combination of arousal and exertion. His shorts strained to contain what looked like a second bicycle horn, but I was wil ing to bet otherwise.
    Final y, Socko grabbed me and held tight