Page 39 of A Cock and Bull Story
“I forgot that I was having a sex party,” I hastily explain.
This brings the two security men up short.
“A sex party?” the one on the left speaks again.
“Yes, it. . . slipped my mind that I. . . asked somebody to break into my apartment and attempt to touch me because. . . umm, you know, I get my jollies off to that shit.”
The guy on the right looks interested, but the other on the left just scowls
“Ma’am, rape is a very serious thing! That is no joking matter,” he scolds sternly.
“No, no, no, you’re mistaken,” I start before slamming my hands on my hips. “Wait just a minute! Don’t you kink shame me! You can’t tell me what to do or how to feel!”
I take a breath, gearing up to give them the sex talk of their lives, when the door across the hall opens. It’s my gamer neighbors. Thankfully, they’ve reminded me of my purpose.
“Hey, Wes,” my neighbor says to one of the guards, “This is the Yank I was telling you about!”
“Oh,” he says, “this is the super freaky slapper.”
“Yeah, and when she says she's tying someone up, it's cool—they're really just having kinky sex.”
“All right. But please know that we take campus security very seriously, ma’am,” the guy directs at me.
I almost snort considering how half the time I see them sitting around fiddling on their phones. But I suppose it's reassuring that they came to my apartment when I called.
“Right. My apologies, I will not call security again for my forgotten sexcapades.”
“We appreciate it. Maybe look into keeping a sexcapade calendar,” the other guard offers unhelpfully.
With that, they march off and I quickly go back into my apartment.
Alone—with a naked man that can turn into a giant tarantula.
Where the hell did Arthur go?!
At a quarter past two in the morning, there's a knock at my door. I quickly throw on some boxers and go answer it. On the other side stands Arthur—starkers.
“I hopped here as fast as I could,” he pants.
“You hopped from Oxford to Banbury in the middle of the night? Are you barmy1?!”
All Primaries know not to go out at night. If you're the lowest level of shifter, it's a good way to get eaten or mauled to death.
“It's Belle, she's in danger! There's a shifter in the room with her. She woke me to go get help—I-I-I don't know what happened,” he stutters in his haste to spit out his words.
“You left her alone with an unknown shifter?!” I growl at him. “Get on. We're running back.”
I quickly shuck off my pants and shift into my ass. Arthur shifts, too, and hops onto my back. Together we race back to Oxford.
In my urgency, I mow down two security guards who yell in dismay and fright, but I ignore them and keep going, not even concerned. I don't even shift when I get to Belle's flat, until I realize I can't open the door.
Awkwardly, I throw Arthur off my back and change. Arthur does the same. Both of us are starkers because I forgot clothing, but neither of us care. Panting, we sprint up to Belle's room and enter without knocking.
“Finally!” she screeches the minute we come into view. “I’ve been waiting for ages for you guys! I've had to pretend that it's a sex party in here—not that anyone would question that.”
Considering the amount of naked knobs in here, I can understand that. I walk over to the shifter that Belle has miraculously detained. . .via duct tape. The guy is unconscious, and I’m impressed.
“He-he-he-he-he-he turns into a tarantula!” the pretty Yank stutters in fright.
