“I don’t know what her reason is, but that’s just it for me. It’s better because ‘the someone’ doesn’t exist anymore. I get my kicks where I can.” I punctuate my seriousness with a stab towards them with the fry I’m munching on. “I’ve got chocolate and chocolate-induced satisfaction. I love chocolate. Might get messy sometimes, but there is no drama.”
Dee is nodding her head enthusiastically now. “It’s true, and you should see our chocolate stash. We’re good for at least a solid year of orgasms. Who needs a boy when you have Hershey’s!”
Greg smiles over at us, laughing right along with Beck now. “You two are fucking nuts, you know that?”
I open my mouth to respond when Dee yells, “Hey, is it true that you guys think about sex seven times a day?” She is looking directly at Beck. I might laugh if I didn’t decide there was a serious need in this knowledge.
I stop long enough to ponder that one. I’ve never really given that much thought. Case in point, I am not having sex, therefore why do I need to think about it? “Yeah, is it something like, because you have a giant dick bobbing around down there, you are constantly reminded to think about using it? Like you have some sex beacon?” I am completely serious right now.
Beck and Greg look at each other and then back at us. Then they throw their heads back and laugh so deep and so loud they draw the attention of almost the whole place.
I don’t think they understand how serious I am right now. “This isn’t funny,” I pout.
Greg stops laughing and starts to answer with humor twinkling in his eyes, but his phone interrupts him. Glancing down at the display with a small frown, he excuses himself from the table.
Okay, whatever. I look over at Beck and throw my question back at him. “So? Do you? Do you think about sex that much?”
“Sugar,” he starts before turning his attention back over to Dee, “I have thought about sex—hard, fucking dirty sex—about a hundred times since we sat down to eat.” Looking back over at me, he says, “Does that clear it up for you?”
Oh, my.
“Ah, well . . . okay. I think we need more beer!” I grab the empty pitcher and take off to find the waitress for more. I glance back at the table on my way to the bar and notice that Dee is still locking eyes with Beck, a look of complete rapture on her face.
I take my time returning, giving those two dirty perverts a second to do whatever it is they seem to be doing before I make my way back over.
“So what’s next on the schedule for today? Or I guess tonight now,” I ask, trying my hardest not to snicker at my two tablemates. If this gets any more heated, I might feel like I was an unwilling threesome participant.
Dee clears her throat and looks over at me, lust still clouding her brown eyes. “Um. I know! Let’s go get some tattoos! You keep talking about how much you want one.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Dee. I think they frown on people being a mile over the legal drinking limit.”
Dee and I are debating on the benefits of getting tattoos when you are far from sober when Greg returns. The laughter and lightness that had taken over his face is gone and his scowl is back. It looks like grumpy Greg is back.
“G, Dee wants to go get some ink. Personally, I think it might not be the best idea . . . You know, numerous pitchers of beer and all. What do you think?”
He seems shocked by my question. Maybe he was expecting me to push him on his mood, or it could be the fact that I have suddenly decided branding myself with something permanent might be a good idea.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, baby girl. Not something you do when you aren’t thinking straight, and damn sure not something you do when your head isn’t in the right place.” He’s looking right at me when he says that. There is no denying that he is only speaking to me. No joking to be found in his tone now. Seriousness is painted heavily all over that reply. No fucking way. I knew he wouldn’t be able to leave it be for long, and that comment just pisses me the hell off. My head is fine just where it is, and I do not want him psychoanalyzing me.
I look over at Dee, who seems to be just as shocked at his answer as I am, which just further pisses me off. Damn infuriating man. “Dee, where’s that place you told me about the other day? You know, the one your assistant was telling you about?”
She looks at me, trying to judge if I’m serious or not, and I practically bug my eyes out of their sockets to communicate that I am very fucking serious.
“Right, you mean Smudge, the new parlor over on Grove. She said the big guy who does her work is the best, but I couldn’t tell you his name.”
“Perfect. Just perfect. Finish up, people. Places to go.” I clap my hands together and look at Greg with all the seriousness I have in me. He will not stop me. No way in hell, he would have to lock me up now.