“Question should be, have Istartedthe flyer.”
“Dude,” Jules frowned, straightening to her full five feet three inches of height. “What have you been doing up there, sampling the product?”
There was nothing in the boutique she wanted to sample as much as she wanted to feel Bubba again. Not even Jules’ favorite—Dave-the-double-sided-dildo—compared. She imagined Bubba would be like Benadryl for her pussy; one dose and she would be out. It was unfortunate that Bubba was attached to a bigger dick than he was.
Jules snapped her fingers in Stormy’s face.
Somewhere between everyone parting ways last night and coming to work this morning, Jules had dyed her hair again. The upper layer of her asymmetrical page cut was a rainbow kaleidoscope of lavender, pink, and red while the lower layer remained silky black. Jules wore her black plastic horn-rimmed glasses with gold rhinestones, a cream peasant blouse, brown leggings, and five-inch black matte platform boots that reminded Stormy of something Lurch from the Addams Family would wear.
Generally, people couldn’t reconcile the many faces of Jules, but at thirty-eight years old, her friend hadn’t lost her passion for helping people live in their own truth because she had fought so hard to stand in hers. Stormy loved that about her.
“No, I haven’t been sampling the product…you wish. But because you’re slightly more levelheaded than Lou, and a licensed psychologist to boot—I’m going to really need you to remember that last part—I’d like to run something past you and get your feedback.”
“Okay, shoot,” Jules said, shutting the magazine and pushing it to the side.
Lou was usually the first person Stormy shared confidences with. It was a habit forged by fire, stone, and decades of trust. But Lou was opinionated and sometimes forgot to pull her punches. With all the emotional turmoil Stormy was experiencing, she would flash if she heard “stop punking out” one more goddamn time.
“Say there’s this hot guy…or girl…that you can’t get out of your mind…”
“Country Boy?”
“We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you in a hypothetical situation.”
Jules nodded. “Oh yeah, okay.”
“All right, so say this person pulls some real stalker shit and breaks into your space—”
“But the guy is hot, right? I mean, didn’t you say he was hot?”
Stormy closed her eyes momentarily. “I’m gonna need you to focus.”
“Dude, I’m like a laser with my focus, please continue.”
“So the person breaks into your space, threatens you, and shows you his junk.”
Jules perked up. “His junk? As in his dick?” Stormy nodded. “Is the dick spectacular?”
“Yes, very.”
“This is getting hot.”
Stormy lifted her eyebrow.
“Focused,” Jules assured her.
“So, to prove that you’re not intimidated, you grab his junk—”
“Are you intimidated, though…I mean, amIintimidated?”
“No.”
“Turned on?”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point.”
“What’s the point, then?” Jules practically shouted.
“What would you do if the guy comes back?”
