Page 101 of Highball Rush
And it didn’t end there. A waitress opened the door, but the salacious couple didn’t stop. Despite being seen, and the startled waitress staying to watch, they continued their breathtaking foray into sexual exploration.
In real life, I had no desire for someone to watch me have sex. But I was captivated by this riveting scene in which two people overcome with sexual desire threw off their inhibitions and participated in a symphony of dirty talk, and even dirtier actions, resulting in multiple orgasms—including a masturbatory climax for the watching waitress.
I’d spent my adult life working in the music industry. I’d toured with rock stars. I’d walked in on more than my fair share of people having sex. Sometimes in odd places, or with more than two participants. But I’d never seen—or done—anything like what I’d just read.
Letting out a long breath, I closed the book. I was warm, the pressure between my legs making me want to squirm in my chair.
The discussion continued, and it turned out the book had a lot more than vibrantly-written erotic sex. The plot sounded engaging, and everyone talked about how much they swooned over the romantic ending. The epilogue was a favorite, apparently including some extremely arousing sexual exploits on a couch, which the ladies in my circle agreed were worth trying at least once. Except Dixie—she and Clyde preferred to keep it basic so neither of them broke a hip.
Nadine stood and called for everyone’s attention again. “Ladies, we’re almost out of time. Before y’all go, don’t forget we have a recipe-sharing circle online with plenty of libido-enhancing meals and ingredients. EmmaLeigh was kind enough to add her write-up on five ways to get your man aroused when he’s tired. And I think we can all agree that Scarlett’s contribution last week on the topic of oral activities was enlightening, so we’ve put a short summary there for you as well.”
June rose from her seat. “The next book is already posted on the website, and is available in both ebook and paperback formats. Piper has once again ordered extra copies from neighboring libraries to meet the demand. And if you’d like to read similar books by comparable authors, there’s a list for your reference. Any questions?”
Dolores, an elderly woman with a wispy gray bun, raised her hand.
“No, Dolores, you cannot spike Murray’s food with extra Viagra,” Nadine said before the woman could speak.
Dolores lowered her arm with a scowl.
“Thank you for attending,” June said.
“And enjoy those orgasms,” someone said from the back.
Her exclamation was met with whoops and hollers around the room.
“It’s hot, right?” Shelby asked, pointing at my Kindle.
I nodded, still feeling a little shell-shocked. “I had no idea.”
“Read the rest and you’ll be hooked,” she said with a little grin. “Just plan on Gibson being overwhelmed by your enthusiasm at first. It happens to all of them. Jonah adjusted and now…” She sighed heavily, fanning herself. “So amazing. You’ll both be very happy. Trust me.”
I helped the women clean up and, at Nadine’s urging, packed a plate full of food to bring back to Gibson. George put away chairs and tables, casting adoring looks at June. They sure seemed happy. In fact, all the women in attendance had smiles on their faces.
They looked good. Vibrant and alive, even the older ladies. I wondered if it was the female bonding over a naughty book, or the extra sex they were having with the men in their lives. Maybe it was a bit of both.
Regardless, I needed to get back to Gibson’s. The throbbing between my legs had only grown, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the scene in that book. The things he’d done to her. I wasn’t sure half of them were possible, but I was going to make Gibson a very happy man tonight while we gave a few of them a try.
31
GIBSON
Abunch of trucks were parked around the perimeter of the softball field, bathing it in light. Necessary for a night game when your field didn’t have fancy lighting. It did mean there were about a dozen places where the light blinded the players if they glanced in the wrong direction. But they’d also be guzzling moonshine in between innings, so a few blind spots weren’t going to make much difference.
The school buses were already lined up, waiting to take people—players and spectators alike—home after the game. Here in Bootleg, we took our drinking seriously, but we weren’t stupid. Cars and trucks stayed parked at the field overnight, and by the end of Wasted Wednesday—when everyone tried to recover from the town-wide hangover—the now-sober townsfolk would wander back to get their vehicles and drive them home.
The moonshine concession stands were doing big business and the bleachers were full of Bootleg residents. They scarfed down hot dogs and baskets of greasy fries, and just about everyone of age had a cup of moonshine in their hand.
Except me, of course. I didn’t drink.
Mostly that was because of my dad. He drank, so I didn’t. Although it wasn’t as simple as a stubborn attempt to turn myself in the opposite direction of everything he’d ever done. I worked with my hands, much like he had. He’d been more handyman than craftsman, but there was a similarity to our trades. That hadn’t swayed me from my profession. I sang and played guitar. I’d gotten that from him, too.
I didn’t drink because it felt like too big a risk to take. I’d had alcohol before. I’d been everything from tipsy to shit-faced, out-cold, drunk off my ass. The problem was, I liked it too much. It was a guaranteed escape. Felt good to check out and stumble around without a care in the world, my head swimming in liquor. I knew what I’d find at the end of that road, and I’d made a conscious choice to take a different one.
We were playing the Gableton Miners tonight. Their shirts featured a cartoon man covered in coal dust, holding a shovel like a baseball bat. They wore headlamps over their caps, adding to the light show on the field.
Opal warmed up with a few practice swings while Buck and Nash stretched their shoulders. Bowie looked right at home with a mitt dangling from his hand. Baseball had always been his game. The guy was good, even when he was three sheets to the wind in the seventh.
Jameson was nearby, being all kissyface with Leah Mae. I thought about barking at him to get his head in the game—it’s what I usually did—but kept my mouth shut. It was weird, but I didn’t mind seeing my brother loving on his girl so much these days.
