Wifey: Watching a movie and deciding which vibrator to use. I have a variety of them on hand to keep me on my toes…and to help make those toes curl.
Me: Can I watch?
Wifey: No, perv.
Me: …the movie? Always assuming the worst of me, wifey.
Wifey: I’m usually right. Warning:the movie might be girlie.
Me: I love girlie movies. You know my taste in music. Doesn’t it make sense that I would like girlie movies too?
Wifey: Fair point. Fine. See you in a bit.
I lift Harper off my lap and stand. “Gotta go, boys.”
“Breaking your dry spell?” Vance asks.
“BJ needs me,” I answer.
Harper looks at Vance. “What’s a dry spell?”
I smile. “I’ll let you handle that. See ya.”
With a bizarre and unexpected rush of excitement, I head straight over to Kennedy’s apartment. I haven’t been here since her drunken New Year’s Eve debacle. I wait for her annoyingly slow elevator and eventually arrive at her door, where I excitedly knock on it.
She opens it looking like she did the morning after in Vegas. Messy hair and not an ounce of makeup. She’s in tiny shorts and a tank top without a bra. I smile. “I see you got dressed up for me.”
She flips me the bird.
“You know it’s my favorite look on you, wifey.”
She rolls her eyes. “I look dreadful. It’s because I couldn’t even get myself off with my vibrator. My body is so damn sick of silicone stimulation. It needs dick. Real, soft-skinned, hard-muscled, veiny, angry dick that reaches deep inside me until I can’t see straight.”
I raise my hand. “I volunteer as tribute.”
She makes a look of disgust. “Ew. No. Do you think I’d dress like this if I thought I might have a chance of getting laid?” She exhales a breath. “I can’t believe we still have seven months and seventeen days of this.”
I chuckle. “Do you have a countdown?”
She nods. “Yes I do. I’m gonna fuck ten guys one minuteafter the annulment is finalized. Every hole, orifice, crack, crevice.Everywhereon my body will get drilled.”
I adjust myself. “Fuck, that’s hot. Can I watch?”
She sighs as she turns and walks toward her living room, shouting back, “I opened a bottle of wine. Want a glass?”
“Sure,” I answer. I’m not a big wine guy but I don’t want to be difficult.
We sit on her sofa, and she pours me a glass. Taking my first sip, I know right away it’s the good stuff. I pick up the bottle and read it aloud. “2018 Screaming Eagle?”
It’s not a cheap bottle at all. In fact, it’s damn expensive.
She shrugs. “It’s the closest to screaming that I’ll be getting for another seven months and seventeen days.” She takes a sip and closes her eyes as if savoring the taste. “Yum, this is the good stuff. This wine’s history is more complex than your entire personality.”
I smile. “Did you get this expensive little habit from your father?”
Coach Jeffries is obsessed with good wines. I know he maintains a huge collection in his wine cellar and is known to take a lot of time to order it at restaurants. He’s probably the only other person I’ve ever had wine with.
Her shoulders fall. “I suppose. I started stealing wine from his cellar at thirteen. I didn’t appreciate how much the bottles were worth at the time. Then when I got older and started drinking shitty wine, I could taste the difference. It’s kind of a curse, to be honest. At least with my expensive clothes, I can wear them again and again. With wine, it’s gone once you drink it. Another in a long line of problems gifted to me by my parents.”
