“A doll!”
“Primal play.”
I stop laughing. Max, too.
All eyes land on me, wide and happy.
“I guessed that,” says one proud Perkins.
“You did, baby. You got it right.”
The happy Perkins nudges me with his elbow. “You know if there’s a Big Hunt this year?”
What?I blink the tears of laughter from my eyes, my body pricks up with interest.
“Oooooh, I love the hunt!” says Pam who, now that I think about it, is the carbon copy of Ms. Tancaredo, my middle school librarian. I can see her telling us to stop whispering in the stacks. “I do it every year.”
I set my spoon carefully down and listen.
“It is so fun!” The Perkins say in perfect unison. I swear, these two should take their act on the road. The look they exchange is deliciously lascivious.
“What’s, um…” I clear my throat, attempting a nonchalance I don’t feel, and concentrating on Pam the librarian. “The Big Hunt?”
“Absolute mayhem,” she replies with the kind of delight Ms. T. would have shown if asked a particularly challenging reference question, or when a kid developed a newfound love for reading.
Butch slides his arm over her shoulders. “My Pammie loves to run in the wild.
“Not to mention a good forced fantasy,” she adds, her smile beatific.
My scalp prickles and I’m filled with a familiar rush.
“Oh, Pamela, honey,” says the pale Perkins with what I can only describe as a guffaw. “We’ve heard you screaming…”
“For miles,” the other finishes.
“What can I say?” Pam’s blunt grey bob swings as she does a little shimmy. Her twinkling eyes meet mine. “I’m just a whore for violence.”
“Not to mention a big, fat cock,” her partner adds, his grin wide open, almost innocent.
“Or three!” squeal the Perkins, in unison.
“Is it happening this year?” Max asks the group. “I thought the Overlord stopped doing those.”
My interest is beyond piqued.
“He was the king, wasn’t he, back in the day?” A Perkins looks around the group.
“So sad,” says the other Perkins, shaking his head. “The apex predator, taken down by love.”
My stomach swishes unpleasantly and I push my bowl of mousse away.
“He’d bag more Prey than any others, wouldn’t he?”
“Always,” Pam says, sounding dreamy.
“Only ever fucked the wife, though.”
“So, he’s married?” I try my best to sound casual.
