Holly,
Annie, and Sophie all choked on their drinks. “What?” they squawked almost
simultaneously.
Christy
propped her legs on the empty chair in front of her and, throwing her head
back, finished her shot. Yep, tequila nights were definitely the best.
“I’m
going to hire myself a first-class stud,” she stated, her gaze fixed on the
dark sky, literally bursting with stars. “If you’re smart, you will too.
Although you guys need to get your own—I’m not comfortable sharing.”
She left
the shot glass on the table of her deck and smirked at the stupefied girls.
A stud
for hire.
She had no clue where the heck that
thought had come from. It’d probably crept in sometime between the fourth and
fifth rounds of shots, but now that it was out there, it made a world of
sense…in a totally messed-up, sex-deprived, alcohol-distorted sort of way.
“A stud for hire? What on earth for?”
Annie asked in a slurred voice.
Holly waved in exasperation. “Please,
Annie. Isn’t that self-explanatory? Sex, honey, sex.”
Annie’s glazed eyes opened wide. “As in
a man whore?” She shook her head. “But…but you’re beautiful, Chris. You don’t
need to—”
Christy cut her off. “Hell yes I need
to.” Beautiful or not, she knew her limitations. Landing a decent guy on her
own—for sex or for anything else—was apparently one of them. “I want to,
actually.”
She was drunk enough to be blunt, and
well, she hadn’t had sex for ages and good sex for a hell of a lot longer—her
whole life, probably. It had never bothered her that much, but tonight the
unfairness of it all stunk to high heaven.
“I’ve come to accept that love and
happily-ever-afters are not meant for me. I get it. I really do,” she said,
turning her glare up to the black sky. “But where is it written I have to make
do without experiencing good sex for the rest of my life, huh? Where?” she
demanded, raising a fist into the night à la Scarlett O’Hara.
The girls giggled.
Christy sighed. “It shouldn’t be this
hard. There’s gotta be something wrong with me.”
Duh, no shit. The understatement
of the century.
Holly came to her rescue. “Nothing’s
wrong with you, sweetie. It’s the male pool that’s rapidly decaying. Brainless
jerks, the whole bunch of ’em.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Sophie said.
Christy wasn’t so sure. She understood
Sophie, who was after all in the middle of getting a divorce and had no
sympathy for the opposite sex. She also understood sexpot Holly. The girl could
catch and keep any man she wanted—if she wanted to, which was the key point here—but
other people found great guys all the time, real keepers. It had to be Christy’s
fault that she always drew the shortest straw.
This is truly pathetic! I’m pushing thirty-four, for crying out
loud. There must be more to sex than what I got, when I got any. I want to see
fireworks, bright lights…I want vortices of passion, the pulsing, the clawing,
and the screaming. The multiple orgasms! Instead all I got was…
“…unskilled men unable to find your G-spot
even with a state-of-the-art GPS embedded in their finger,” Sophie finished. “I
know, sweetie. Join the club.”
Oh God! Had she said that out loud?
Apparently.
Annie choked on her drink again while
Holly broke into a laugh.
“Well…that too,” Christy said, feeling
her cheeks flame. That wasn’t what she’d meant, but it wasn’t exactly a lie
either.
Holly jumped in. “That’s nothing, girl,”
she said, addressing Sophie. “There’s unskilled, and then there’s unskilled.
I have pretty horrible war stories myself. What about the jerks who think good
oral sex consists of sucking your clit so hard it feels like you’re stuck to a
vacuum cleaner? You’re there, squirming, about to pass out from agony, slapping
at him and yanking his hair to get him to stop, and what does the moron do?
Thinks you’re coming, redoubles his efforts, and obnoxiously grins at you.”
They all dissolved into laughter while
Holly rolled her eyes. “Laugh all you want, ladies, but let me tell you, I’d
rather get my teeth removed, one by one, without anesthesia, before letting
anybody unqualified near my poor clit again.”
The girls were now laughing so hard
they were crying and holding their stomachs.
“At least he went down on you. Shouldn’t
he get points for trying?” Sophie asked.
Holly snorted. “Nope. No sympathy
points. I’m a person, not an NGO. I want them housebroken; absolutely no
beginners. Either they know what they’re doing, and I mean really know, or they can hit the door.”
“When did that…uh…vacuum cleaner
experience happen?” Annie asked, mopping her tears.
Holly took several seconds to answer,
building their expectation. “Um…remember that GQ investment consultant I
dated a while back?”
Annie’s jaw dropped to the floor. “No
way! The smooth talker?”
Holly assented. “Useless mouth if you
ask me.”
They all doubled over again. Christy
was the new kid on the block and she didn’t know any GQ investment
consultant, but she knew outspoken Holly wouldn’t put up with much shit when it
came to men, much less oral sex gone bad.
“And don’t get me started on foreplay…”
“In that area,” Sophie began, “you got
nothing on me—I win hands down. Have you ever had an ice cube on your privates
straight out of the freezer? Without any warning whatsoever?” She looked
around. “No, I guessed not. Well, I have. The height of foreplay, I tell you. My
soon-to-be ex decided to get creative and go all 9½ Weeks on me.”
Christy was confused. “I don’t remember
that scene in the movie.”
“Exactly my point,” Sophie said with a
grunt.
Now Holly’s jaw went slack. “Oh shit!
What happened?”
“What happened? Frostbite happened. I
should probably be grateful he didn’t think of getting it near my clit because
it would’ve fallen off in pieces. Talk about permanent damage!”
The three girls looked at each other in
stunned silence; then they looked at Sophie, who was sourly pouting, before
breaking out in uncontrollable laughter yet again.
It took several attempts before they
got the giggles down to manageable levels.
“You’re outrageous when you’re drunk.
The three of you,” Annie said.
“More like straight to the point,”
Christy muttered. She’d never been that sexually active, or that adventurous.
She could count on one hand the guys she’d slept with—never one-night stands,
always committed relationships, but she’d had her share of experiences. Her
share of bad ones, that is. Good ones had, for the most part, eluded her. Maybe
those were just urban legends. Freddy Krueger, the tooth fairy, and multiple
orgasms.
Annie shook her head. “Come on, Chris,
don’t listen to these two. Despite your previous experiences, you can get both
the lasting relationship and the great sex. I was quite happy with Ben in both
areas. No big complaints.”
Both girls glared at her until she
capitulated with a long sigh. “Until of course he got that job in Boston, met
Stan, and switched teams on me. That was the mother of all surprises.”
“And a deal breaker, with you having a
vagina and all that,” Sophie said while Holly chuckled.
“Don’t be mean,” Annie chided and then
turned her attention to Christy. “And you, nowhere is it written that you won’t
get your happily ever after. Give our little town a chance. You’ve been here
for what…four months?”
“Five,” Christy answered.
Annie gave her a “duh” look. “Exactly.
Short prelude if you ask me. Alden has some fine men; you don’t need to go
hiring gigolos out of…out of God knows where.”
“Maybe, but do you see any of your fine
men falling down at my feet? Or showing any interest at all, for that matter?
Because if so, sorry, I’ve missed them.”
Annie rolled her eyes. “You’re the one
running away from anyone who shows the slightest interest in you. The guy from
the video store, for example.”
Now Sophie was choking on her drink. “Please,
Annie. He’s weird, talks to himself when he gets nervous, which is all the
time.”
Christy sighed, resigned. “Nothing new
there—weirdos gravitate toward me. Same shit happened in LA. I lived in that
city for over ten years and didn’t see a single movie star in the flesh. Not
one, not even from afar. But weirdos? Ha! Those I met plenty. No, what I want
for a change is someone who can fire me up. I want hot sex. Animalistic heat.
Primal connection. I’d love the candlelight and the romance to go with that,
but since it isn’t meant to be, I’d settle for something I’ve never had:
screaming, blinding orgasms,” she said, not quite believing she was uttering the
words. She was more inhibited than that when it came to sex. It must have been
all the liquid courage she’d guzzled down, because she couldn’t bring herself
to feel too much shame. Self-pity? Yeah, boatloads of it, but no shame.
“Oh boy, Christy’s been reading steamy
romances again, haven’t you?” Holly said, frowning. “Honey, those aren’t real.
I wish they were, but they aren’t. That kind of man doesn’t exist. Take my word
for it.”
“Holly’s right,” Sophie said. “Reality
is frostbite and vacuum-cleaner horror experiences, five-minute lays, unskilled
fingers, and other rather unappealing appendages probing all over the place and
frustrating the hell out of you. And nasty, expensive divorces, of course.”
Annie looked up from her drink. “You
need firing up? Then you should try one of the Bowen brothers. They’ll scorch
your underwear just with a look.”
“And how would you know about that, Ann
Marie? Have you been holding out on us?”
Annie blushed. “No, but I sell candy.
People like to talk around sweets.” And it was no big secret those three Bowen
brothers were the county’s most sought-after bachelors. Even Christy had heard
about their exploits during the first week of being in Alden. Hell, she hadn’t
checked, but they were probably featured as centerfolds in the town’s tourist
guide. James, the middle one, had now gotten engaged, which had apparently sent
the town’s entire female population into full-blown, hold-on-to-your-panties,
get-yourself-a-Bowen-husband-before-they’re-gone hysterics.
“Sure, like there’s a chance in hell
they’d give me the time of the day,” Christy said, rolling her eyes. Although
Cole, the older of the Bowen brothers, always so contained, with that Viking-warrior
vibe he had going on, those rugged, sexy looks, and that I’m-in-charge
attitude, sure made her mouth water every time she saw him. And her nipples
peak and her sex flood too, not that she was admitting to anything. And not
that he responded in any way. Every time they were in the same place, he seemed
to be in pain or pissed, more interested in finding the nearest exit than in
talking to her. It was depressing, really. “Let’s get real here. Those guys are
so frigging out of my league we might as well be from different planets. I’ll
stick with your average, run-of-the-mill Joe, thank you very much. They do
enough damage as it is.”
“You know, not everyone is like Todd.”
Todd? Ah…yes, Todd.
It was a pity not even five heavily
loaded tequila shots and a couple of beers had the power to erase that
lower-than-dirt sneak from her memory.
“I know not everyone’s like Todd.” She
sighed, looking down at her sad, empty glass. Intent on remedying the
situation, she reached toward the table, in the process almost knocking over
several empty beer bottles, and grabbed the tequila. Tequila nights were
definitely a great idea—finest idea since coming to Alden. Thank God she’d let
Annie, her old roommate from college, convince her to come visit. It’d been a
wise move. At first she’d bunked on Annie’s couch, intending to lick her wounds
before returning to LA, but she’d loved the small town and the people and
decided to stay. There was nothing back in LA for her, nothing at all. Besides,
her successful career as a software engineer had left her in a very cushy spot
financially, and she could afford the unpaid leave. Heck, she could even afford
to invest her time in updating the town’s library for minimum wage.
“Has he been calling you again?”
Christy nodded wryly. He’d been
calling. Her mom had been calling. All she needed was her LA neighbor to call.
“Asshole,” Holly hissed.
Yes, that he was. “He’s history. Back
to reality. I hate to state the obvious, but someone has to. I don’t see a
horde of admirers interested in me. And even if there were, I don’t want to go
through the whole trial-and-error crap again.” Her shaky self-esteem couldn’t
take any more hits. “I don’t want to date. I want to get laid. Big difference.
And properly laid, mind you.”
The girls giggled while Christy
clumsily poured everyone their sixth round, some of the liquid sloshing out
from the shot glasses in the process. She looked at the salt and the limes on
the table. Ah, forget it. They were past formalities. It was time for old
friend José Cuervo straight up.
“You don’t want to date? Really?”
“Really.” It wasn’t so much that she
didn’t want to but that she sucked at it, and by now was pretty much scared
shitless of it. And tired of trying her damned best and coming up short—in the
sack and out. Wasn’t the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and
over, expecting different results? So there it was, certified nuts. Besides,
Christy was well on her way to getting plastered and felt like giving in to excess,
so she shook her head energetically, almost causing a dizzy spell. “Nope, no
dates for me. As a matter of fact, now that we’re into soul-deep confessions
and life-altering decisions, I’m going to do something I should have done long
ago. Wait here,” she said as she left the glass on the table and shakily made
her way inside from the deck. It was time. Drunk or not, now was the perfect
moment to let go.
After tripping over her own feet
several times, she decided to lose the summer sandals. There, much better, she
thought as she found what she was looking for. Moments later and a bit wobbly
from the extra movement, she made it out again to where her girlfriends were
looking curiously at her. She released her tight grip and gave the pretty ring
a last look. It was shiny, elegant, and beautiful. Pity she couldn’t stand the
sight of it.
“Is that your engagement ring? Your twenty
grand, drop-dead gorgeous engagement ring? What are you going to do?” Holly
asked, concerned.
Emotional feng shui.
“I’m cleaning house. About time too.”
Before anyone could utter any
complaints, she turned her back toward the yard, looked mischievously to her
girlfriends, and, lifting on tiptoe, threw the ring high over her head as far
away as she could manage. “There. Gone with the wind.” She exhaled, throwing
herself into the chair. “No more searching for my soul mate; I’ve given up on
that. I won’t ever deceive myself either. No more relationships. Obviously
there’s no need for me to save any bucks for a mortgage on a big house, kids’
college funds, a minivan, or family vacations, so I’ll invest the surplus
wisely—I’ll get the best escort money can buy, and I’ll get monumentally laid.
Professionally laid. If I’m lucky and the work holds, more than once.” She’d
always put the relationship before the sex, and neither one had worked. She’d
felt inadequate in bed and unappreciated out of it. No more. Time to change
tactics.
She reached for her tequila shot. Holly
was wrong. Christy hadn’t been reading steamy romances. No, she’d been
devouring self-help manuals, which was about to come in handy. “You know, it’s
within everyone’s own reach to get what they want out of life. It’s just a
matter of attitude and positive affirmations.” Without thinking too much, she
clambered up, shakily climbed onto the empty stone flowerpot sitting at the
edge of the deck, and raised her hands to the sky, spilling half her tequila in
the process.
Holly chucked. “Get down from there. You’ll
break your neck, and no one here is in any condition to take you to the ER.”
“What on earth are you doing?” Annie
asked with wide eyes.
“Pledging myself to this new course.”
“Your stud won’t come from the skies,
Chris,” Sophie answered. “You are a techie. You should know the Internet is a
better option. Let’s just Google it.”
Christy ignored them. Extreme
situations called for extreme measures. “My neighbor said the night of June twenty-fourth
is magic, and she also said my backyard is strategically located. ‘Cosmically
speaking, very powerful’ were her exact words.”
“Your neighbor’s loony tunes, and it’s
the twenty-eighth,
almost a week later, honey.”
“So? Some power must be lingering,” she
said, refusing to be derailed, and her back to her friends, she proceeded to
scream to the night, “I, Christine Sheridan, vow that I’m done. No more
searching for husband material. Or for love. No more meaningful long-term
relationships. Just give me orgasms! Big, mind-blowing ones!” she added, flashing
a look at her girlfriends, who were dissolving into giggles. Christy fought to
keep her face straight and continued, “I’m getting on with my sex life and I…will…get…my…stud!”
It took her some moments to realize
that her friends’ laughter had suddenly died out and someone was clearing his
throat.
“Holy tamoli. It works,” she heard
Annie mumbling.
With her arms still up to the sky,
Christy turned her head, and her gaze strayed to the left, where Cole Bowen was
standing with his bulging arms crossed over that rock-hard chest, his left
eyebrow raised. Her footing gave out.
“Careful there,” Cole said as he caught
Christy on her way down, that raspy, low voice of his sending her pulse skyrocketing
and giving her goose bumps even under her nails.
She landed in his arms, and less than a
second later, the booze landed over his chest.
“Oops, sorry,” she whispered, trying to
clean the liquid from his shirt, which did nothing but spread it out and give
her a chance to totally and shamelessly feel him up. “When…? How…? Where did
you come from?” she asked, equal parts awed and embarrassed.
“Mr. Spock, the quantum hyperparticles
time-space disturbance has been spotted hiding in the stone flowerpot. The
Federation is saved,” Holly joked as Sophie dissolved into laughter.
Christy threw both a hard glance.
“Hello, ladies,” Cole answered, his gaze
never straying from Christy’s as he steadied her on her feet but didn’t let go.
“I was on my way home when this landed on my head.” He showed her the ring.
“Oh.” Fantastic. Time and space were
definitely conspiring against her. The ring was back. Not acceptable. She tried
to straighten herself and appear less drunk. If not less drunk, then at least
less slurred. “Thanks, but I meant to throw it away,” she managed to say, those
deep green eyes of his holding her spellbound. Jesus, he was handsome. Rough
and masculine, with dirty-blond hair framing harsh, angular features and a
glint of golden stubble marring his jaw. And not only was the sight of him
mesmerizing, but his scent…wow. So male, so sexy. Mouthwatering. As a matter of
fact, this close, if she swayed a bit his way, she bet she could taste him.
Flick her tongue over his gorgeously tanned skin without him noticing. Before
her fuzzy brain could process the thought, her body leaned toward him, mouth
already open. Oh God, what the hell was she doing? She jumped away. She had to
put some distance between them before she convinced herself that giving him a
big lick was the thing to do.
She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean
to litter. Please leave the ring in the Salvation Army’s donation box, will
you? Or in the church’s. It’s just at the end of this street. Someone should
benefit from it, after all; no sense in throwing good money down the sewer,”
she said as she sat down on her chair.
“If you insist,” he replied, a slow
smile creeping across his face. Whoa. He never smiled—at her, that is. Around
her he had only two moods: either he was glowering or about to. Which was good,
work conducive really, because if he was handsome while glowering, when smiling
he was just devastating—flat-out irresistible.
“Are you ladies okay?” he asked,
looking around.
They all nodded. “Ladies’ night in.”
“I see. Good night then,” he said as he
turned to leave.
Boy, the man looked as good going as he
did coming. He had without a doubt the most magnificent body she’d ever seen.
Broad shoulders, lean hips, strong, powerful legs, tight a— Yeah, well, tight.
When she managed to unglue her eyes
from his backside, she noticed Annie was making her way up on top of the
flowerpot. “What are you doing?”
She was already raising her hands to the sky.
“What do you think I’m doing? Claiming my stud, of course!”
© Elle Aycart, May 2012
All Rights Reserved
All Rights Reserved
Disclaimer: this excerpt is not final and is subject to change
Fantastic. I can't wait to get my hands on Heavy Issues now.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you liked it, Lesley :-)
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteWhere can I buy this?
ReplyDeleteHi,
DeleteHeavy Issues will be available on Amazon on June 12. At the moment you can get it through the publisher wwww.loose-id.com
Kisses,
Elle
i went looking on amazon for the book and its not found where can i find it?
ReplyDeleteHi Kerri,
DeleteIt should be in amazon http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_2_12?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=heavy+issues+kindle+edition+elle+aycart&sprefix=heavy+issues%2Cdigital-text%2C337
If you don't find it clicking this link, then you can get it from Loose ID (you need to get .prc format if you have a kindle) http://www.loose-id.com/heavy-issues.html
Kisses,
Elle
Hello i want to read this really badly but dont have the money to buy it and i was wondering if i coukld read this free? i know its asking for too much but please im really desperate you have got nothing free on the internet even though your books are amazing
ReplyDeleteplease reply
ReplyDelete