him, like he’s always looking to work his next scam. I hate that I might carry that desperation with me, so I have spent many hours practicing my neutral look.
“Your family is loaded?” I ask. What is it with me meeting these rich kids, are they all into slumming or something?
He starts to drive and it seems like he’s going to evade the question. We turn out onto the street and immediately get stuck behind a bus. I look at him and will him to answer, he blinks a couple of times and looks back at me. “What?” he laughs. “I feel like you’re using some kind of mind power. Ok, I admit it, my family has money. I don’t have anything to do with them though, so I don’t think of it as my money.”
“Why don’t you have anything to do with them?” I ask, surprised that we have this in common.
“We don’t see eye to eye I guess, my father is not happy with things like tattoos and me being a musician,” he says and reaches over to rub his hand up my thigh, “or casual sex.”
“Oh I hate him then,” I reply. “I get it though, I haven’t talked to my mom in almost a year, but she’s insane, so that’s why.”
“Like certifiably insane, or just crazy bitch?” he asks.
“More like crazy bitch, but if I had the power, I’d certify her,” I reply. “She lives in Surrey, I think. The only time I hear from her is when she needs money.”
“Kinda the opposite of my father,” he says with a smirk. “Only he comes around when he tries to shove money in my face and order me around.”
“So we have that in common,” I smile and put my hand on his, still on my upper thigh. “How romantic.”
“You know it, babe,” he smiles at me and I lean over to turn up the music. The Ramones, he’s worming his way straight to my heart as we sing “Beat on the Brat” at the top of our lungs over the Cambie Bridge.
Chapter Five
Cicero and Something About Falling in Love
“Have you ever had your ass fucked, babe?” Hush whispers in my ear as he’s stroking my arm. I’m curled up against him, entwined in his limbs like we’re on the cover of a porno version of a Nicolas Sparks novel. So dirty, so fucking romantic, and oh my God I can’t keep myself in line around him.
Pathetic, I think for the millionth time, but the horny/happy/giddy part of me kicks my cynical self in the balls (yeah, I’ve got balls in my imagination, I’m sure therapists would have a field day with that).
“Uh, maybe?” I tilt my head up to gauge his response. He’s smiling at me with a wicked glint in his eye.
“You are such a butt slut, I can see it in your eyes,” he tells me and squeezes my ass. “So, next question, have you ever had a threesome?”
“Um, maybe?” I say again and sense where this is going. We’ve been hooking up every chance we can get for the past two weeks. He knows I’m dirty, so he probably knows how I’m going to answer these questions.
“I thought so, you really are my nasty little whore, aren’t you?” he says, his voice full of pride. I wiggle myself against him, trying to wrap myself further up in his body so nobody will ever tear us apart. I brace myself for what I know is coming next. “I’ve got this buddy, he’s in another band, and he’s been bugging me about hooking up with you. You met him at a show, remember Rev?”
I did remember Rev, he is tall and lanky with a muscular body, dark eyes and a jet black faux hawk. He kinda screams poser to me and I wasn’t that impressed. Then again, he isn’t ugly, and he looks like the kind of guy who would be packing a fat cock, so maybe. I hesitate though, not sure if I like this, the fact that Hush is totally down with sharing me. A couple of months ago, I would have fucked them both with no hesitation, I’m not sure why this gets under my skin.
He’s staring at me though, waiting for my answer. “Fuck, sure,” I say, not willing to lay my cards on the table just yet. What am I supposed to say? Beg him to take me away
“Your family is loaded?” I ask. What is it with me meeting these rich kids, are they all into slumming or something?
He starts to drive and it seems like he’s going to evade the question. We turn out onto the street and immediately get stuck behind a bus. I look at him and will him to answer, he blinks a couple of times and looks back at me. “What?” he laughs. “I feel like you’re using some kind of mind power. Ok, I admit it, my family has money. I don’t have anything to do with them though, so I don’t think of it as my money.”
“Why don’t you have anything to do with them?” I ask, surprised that we have this in common.
“We don’t see eye to eye I guess, my father is not happy with things like tattoos and me being a musician,” he says and reaches over to rub his hand up my thigh, “or casual sex.”
“Oh I hate him then,” I reply. “I get it though, I haven’t talked to my mom in almost a year, but she’s insane, so that’s why.”
“Like certifiably insane, or just crazy bitch?” he asks.
“More like crazy bitch, but if I had the power, I’d certify her,” I reply. “She lives in Surrey, I think. The only time I hear from her is when she needs money.”
“Kinda the opposite of my father,” he says with a smirk. “Only he comes around when he tries to shove money in my face and order me around.”
“So we have that in common,” I smile and put my hand on his, still on my upper thigh. “How romantic.”
“You know it, babe,” he smiles at me and I lean over to turn up the music. The Ramones, he’s worming his way straight to my heart as we sing “Beat on the Brat” at the top of our lungs over the Cambie Bridge.
Chapter Five
Cicero and Something About Falling in Love
“Have you ever had your ass fucked, babe?” Hush whispers in my ear as he’s stroking my arm. I’m curled up against him, entwined in his limbs like we’re on the cover of a porno version of a Nicolas Sparks novel. So dirty, so fucking romantic, and oh my God I can’t keep myself in line around him.
Pathetic, I think for the millionth time, but the horny/happy/giddy part of me kicks my cynical self in the balls (yeah, I’ve got balls in my imagination, I’m sure therapists would have a field day with that).
“Uh, maybe?” I tilt my head up to gauge his response. He’s smiling at me with a wicked glint in his eye.
“You are such a butt slut, I can see it in your eyes,” he tells me and squeezes my ass. “So, next question, have you ever had a threesome?”
“Um, maybe?” I say again and sense where this is going. We’ve been hooking up every chance we can get for the past two weeks. He knows I’m dirty, so he probably knows how I’m going to answer these questions.
“I thought so, you really are my nasty little whore, aren’t you?” he says, his voice full of pride. I wiggle myself against him, trying to wrap myself further up in his body so nobody will ever tear us apart. I brace myself for what I know is coming next. “I’ve got this buddy, he’s in another band, and he’s been bugging me about hooking up with you. You met him at a show, remember Rev?”
I did remember Rev, he is tall and lanky with a muscular body, dark eyes and a jet black faux hawk. He kinda screams poser to me and I wasn’t that impressed. Then again, he isn’t ugly, and he looks like the kind of guy who would be packing a fat cock, so maybe. I hesitate though, not sure if I like this, the fact that Hush is totally down with sharing me. A couple of months ago, I would have fucked them both with no hesitation, I’m not sure why this gets under my skin.
He’s staring at me though, waiting for my answer. “Fuck, sure,” I say, not willing to lay my cards on the table just yet. What am I supposed to say? Beg him to take me away
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