Page 19 of Just the Tipsy
“This is weird as hell, but did you know I’ve gotten railed better in fanfics written about me and my ex than I have in real life?” she asks. “Everyone thinks he’d be some sweet gentle lover who actually makes me come but in reality, he just pumped it in and called it a day.”
My blood is heating, both in arousal and in anger. He couldn’t make her come? It sounds like he didn’t even try, which is the worst part. I don’t understand guys who just fuck women without caring if their partner gets off.
Making a woman get off is one of the best parts of sex. And finding out all the different ways to do it is even more fun.
“Whatever,” she mumbles, yawning. “Night.”
She’s passed out seconds later and I’m left wide awake, trying to ignore all the things I’d want to teach her.
SIX
BIANCA
I’m barelyover my hangover by Monday, and I’m definitely not over what I think I said to Waylon.
Did I really tell him about my sex bucket list? I was in that hazy area of drunk mixed with extreme fatigue so I can’t remember clearly. But I was comfortable for once in a gathering of people I didn’t know, so I guess that loosened me up a ton. That and freaking moonshine.
Whatever, I’m never drinking again.
I stand in the shower, trying to get clean with the weak water pressure and trying to keep my thoughts on the first day of this gig and not waking up being spooned by Waylon. He shot away from me when he realized what he was doing, but I was awake enough to feel his huge cock against my ass.
My sexual experience has been both bland and short — just my ex and my ex before that — so my exposure to dicks has been limited. But I know enough to know what I felt.
My hand drifts down between my thighs, but I pull it back up. Getting off to him — or the idea of him — is a slippery slope I shouldn’t go down. Banging my fake boyfriend isn’t a part of my plan.
As if he would. I know he’s attracted to me, but he seems like a rule follower through and through. I doubt he’d want to cross a line with his fake girlfriend.
And if it’s never going to happen, I might as well…
No. Still no. And I’d need my vibrator to get off fast before I need to leave, so I wrap up my shower and get dressed. Rose insisted that the office dress code is chill, but I still have no idea what chill means around here. I go for black jeans and a blouse, with flat sandals so I’m not towering over Rose.
I pack up Sadie in the car and follow GPS to the Stryker Liquors office. The offices are on the edge of town in a nondescript standalone office building, only adorned by the Stryker Liquors logo above the door. I park and take a deep breath.
I can do this, even if I said yes when I was a little too socially lubricated. If I’m stuck in the house all day just working on the spa, I’d probably drive myself crazy anyway. I already like Rose, even if I’m a little intimidated by her too. She seems like she knows what she’s about and what she wants for the future when I’ve barely gotten a grip on my next steps.
I head into the office, and it looks like I’ve stepped back into the nineties with the squiggly carpet pattern and dated furniture. The only slightly updated aspect of the office is the Stryker Liquors logo on the wall above the receptionist.
“Hello, how can I help you?” the woman asks, studying me harder than I’d like her to.
“Hi, I’m here to see Rose? Today is my first day.” I hold onto the strap of my bag, feeling that awful new kid at school energy.
“Sure thing, I’ll call her.”
The receptionist calls Rose and moments later, she appears down the hall. She’s in dark jeans and a t-shirt under a cardigan, her long braids down.
“Hey,” she says with a smile. “Thanks for coming in. Seriously.”
“Yeah, it’s no problem.” I shrug, my face hot. Bianca who’d had some moonshine volunteered to do this. What if I can’t even help that much?
“We’ll start with a little tour.”
She leads me around the office, which isn’t all that big — there are bathrooms, a small break room, more offices and meeting rooms. As we round back to her office, we spot a chunky chocolate lab in the hallway, waiting outside of a door. His whole body is stretched out, his chin resting on a stuffed toy. His snout is lightly peppered with white, like he’s older.
“Hey, Big Bubba. Waiting for John David?” Rose asks in a baby voice. Big Bubba’s tail thumps even harder and his tongue lolls out of his mouth as he gets up. He walks over to us, and I let him sniff me.
“This is Big Bubba. He’s the ‘brand ambassador’,” Rose says, rolling her eyes but still clearly amused.
“Brand ambassador?” I raise an eyebrow, looking at the dog. He’s all vibes, no thoughts — happy as can be. “Usually that involves some work, no? He’s not just the mascot?”
