RacingQueen: Have you gotten to the part where the pirate captain takes her back to his ship?
TheBigO: Not yet.
RacingQueen: Then how would you know what I like?
TheBigO: I read a lot of detective novels.
I giggle into my pillow and pull my comforter up over my head. There’s no way he can be right?
RacingQueen: Give it your best shot.
There’s a long pause as he writes.
TheBigO: You strike me as someone who doesn’t want the tender caress or gentle strokes…but prefer a hand around your throat and teeth on your neck while you’re getting bent over a table and fucked hard enough to break the legs out from under it.
Fire races through me sending rays of heat into my belly and limbs.
I guess I was wrong, he nailed it.
RacingQueen: I give you a B plus.
TheBigO: What did I miss?
RacingQueen: The word ‘mine’ being growled in my ear at the same time.
That should really get him going.
It’s working for me. The agony of the funeral has faded, replaced with a feral need between my thighs.
Having talked to him for weeks, I don’t think he’s a creep.
He’s always been respectful, until I pushed him to cross this line.
But he did it in the best way possible.
TheBigO: Ah, so the queen is really a princess who wants to be owned?
RacingQueen: Shh. Our little secret. If you knew me in real life, you’d never believe it. Well, wanting to be treated like royalty tracks.
TheBigO: I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to be spoiled by someone.
RacingQueen: Oh, see? Now you’re making me like you. I have to go be social. Keep me posted on the ship scene.
TheBigO: Aye Aye, Princess.
I should not be smiling this much. This is so dumb. I shouldn’t be feeling all squishy about some random guy who’s name I don’t even know.
Yet he makes me float as I go back into the kitchen where Val brought sandwiches for lunch.
What would happen if I ever met Biggie?
Would he be anything like I imagine him to be?
Choices
Oliver
I shouldn’t have crossedthat line with her.
