Page 38 of Cookout Carnage
RORY: Captain Chattel.
SABRINA: The Vest King of Chicago.
TABI: Did you just make a joke, Rory? You’re not the funny one. Stay in your lane.
RORY: Bugger off, Tab.
I burst into the hallway, and catch a glimpse of Jules ducking into a room three doors away from me. I follow and when I open the door, her face breaks into a smile that fills the room.
“Hi!” She’s bright and light and smells overwhelmingly like a high school Saturday night in the clearing. She’s covered in bits of leaf and food.
I kiss her sticky sweet lips. Then I peel myself from her.
She says, “You didn’t leave me.”
I put my forehead to hers. “And you didn’t leave me.”
“That’s something I don’t do anymore.” She grins.
I say, “And you came after me. You didn’t run away. But what the hell happened to you?”
She kisses me again, and this time, I’m treated to the sweetest little moan as I nip her bottom lip. I swear you could get drunk just smelling her.
“Why are you sticky?”
“Your fault.”
“Isn’t all of this? She doesn’t know I’m here yet.”
“How did she take all of your clothes?” She crooks an eyebrow.
“I gave them all to her after we boned all morning. Where did you go?” She hits me, and I smirk and pick a piece of hay from her hair.
“She locked me in the porking den of iniquity.”
I laugh. “Yeah, well, she drugged me. I win.”
She shakes her head. “Of course she did. And this is our love story. Long separation, drugs, and locked up against my will. Cool. The kids will love it.”
I attack her lips, and she rubs her filthy Jolly Rancher scented body against me. The doorknob jostles, and we panic even though we’ve done nothing wrong and should just leave.
I shove Jules into the closet and follow her inside. We both cringe as my fingers make a suction noise pulling away from her arm. It’s like peeling a fruit roll-up off the plastic sheet. We stifle a laugh and try to look through the wooden slats of the doors.
Pastor Gabriel is pacing and sniffing the air with a curious look on his face. I glare at Jules. He smells her because she reeks like an air freshener from a shitty carwash. She shrugs and shakes her head slightly.
My life hangs in the balance, and the man is doing meditation circles on the coconut-colored shag rug. Go, man. Go out and greet her fucking wedding guests, so we can get the hell out of here. That’s the best course of action, escape.
I’m trying not to think of Juliet’s breasts pressed against my back. It’s hard, given they’re so gloriously big and perfect. She once told me she wanted smaller ones because it was too much to carry around. I offered to carry them around for her.
No. Not good. There’s a man of the cloth five feet away from me, and I can’t stop thinking about her spectacular boobs in my mouth. Her hands slip around my waist, and she holds me closer.
I hiss quietly, “Jules. Stop touching me.” I hear her stifle a giggle. Her hands go to my waistband. “Minister!”
She backs away but whispers, “You’re the man most men dream they could be.” I smile and concentrate on the pastor, and my dick deflates. The door opens, and we both groan because someone’s coming in, not leaving.
“Come in, dear.” The slats in the closet keep my view restrictive. It’s probably my mom. She loves Pastor Gabe.
“You ready for me?” We both stand a little straighter at Tanya’s voice. What the fuck is she doing in here? Oh God.
