Monica closed her eyes to the taste of hot meat upon her tongue. Juices burst in her mouth. Spilt heat dribbled down her chin. The assault of flavor. She moaned.
Thank God for cheat day.
She stuffed a second bite of her burger in her mouth.
"Mind if I sit here?" The voice was warm and slightly amused.
Shit! Monica's eyes snapped open. Oh wow. The naughty girl within her, so often tranquilized of late, peeked.
Tall. Mussed hair. A little rugged.
Fit. Fit was the right word. Something fluttered in her breast and her hot hunk I might want to fuck that meter turned green.
She gulped and her half chewed food formed a knot that scoured its way down her esophagus. She nearly dropped her cheeseburger in her haste to grab a napkin and scrubbed at the grease dribbling from her chin. Her skin flamed from more than just the sun beaming on her in the outdoor, Euroesk mall.
"Uh-" Monica whipped her head about. Her ponytail lashed her cheek. More than half the tables were empty. "-there's an empty table over there. By the fountain."
The man-boy smiled at her. "There's no beautiful, solo, unattached women over there."
On the bridge of her soul, Monica's jackass detector went off. Even so, a rose tide seared her flesh. She moved her hand under the table. Her thumb touched her heart finger.
The flash of warmth evaporated. There was no ring there and mourning widow black draped her spirit. The engagement had broken up six months prior. She dropped her gaze from the Adonis standing before her.
"I wasn't expecting -uh - company. I was just enjoying some down time." The sugar-sweet, nice-girl, seven-year-old at the helm of Monica's soul, squealed in alarm and she hastily flipped the romance novel beside her, face down.
The man's eyebrow arched. "Then by all means, read." He set down his tray upon the little, rickety courtyard table. "Until then, I'll keep you company. No harm, no foul."
Monica's jackass meter hit DEFCON 2. The fucker pulled up a chair. "I'm Rick." He extended a hand over the table. "Call me Rickie if you want. My friends do."
God, Rickie, take a hint! Nice girl forced Monica to take his hand but her expression couldn't have possibly been inviting. Go away!
But their hands met with an electron jolt that rocked nice girl back on her heels and erased Monica's glare. Warm, gentle, strong all registered in the ship's log, or, more accurately, in naughty girl's diary. The fluttering in her breast returned with a heavy wing-beat. "I-" Oh God, don't make a fool of yourself Monica. "-I'm Monica."
"Monica," he said. "Lovely name."
Monica's jackass meter eased up a bit.
He turned her hand over. Warm breath kissed her wrist. Moist heat touched her breast and the butterflies ignited, a cyclone of need sinking lower and lower. Fire moths swarmed in her very core and it melted.
Naughty girl, squeezed herself, like she was making love to her own curves, and Monica squirmed in her seat. Holey shit. She pulled her hand back slowly and put her hand under the table. She scrubbed her wrist against her jeans to buff out the hyper-aware flesh awakened there.
Rickie pretended not to notice. He sank back in his seat and began to eat. "So, a double-super-duper-bacon-burger. One heck of a mouthful."
"Uh, yeah?" Where's this going?
"Just enjoy watching a girl enjoy her meat."
Fuck me! Naughty girl clapped. "Your lucky day then. Most the time it's cucumbers and yogurt." She took a sip of her shake to stabilize her hands.
"Yeah, I suppose cucumbers don't make you orgasm quite the same."
Oh lord. The jackass meter lit up again. Seven-year-old Monica panicked. "What?" Did he really just say that?
"You heard me. I saw you. If that wasn't pleasure in its most exquisite form, I don't know what an orgasm is."
Nice girl, even-year-old wound herself up for one mother of a tantrum. Monica's gave Rickie the eye. "Then you clearly don't know what an orgasm is."
"Really?"
He held her glare. The left side of his lips bowed in a lopsided smile and stalled the impending witching-hour. Before nice girl could react, naughty girl jabbed a screwdriver into the autopilot. Sparks from her core shorted out Monica's thoughts.
Finally she managed, "Food can't make you orgasm."
"What if it could?" His smile broadened.
Monica's mind got lost in naughty girl's heavy breathing. Several heartbeats hammered by.
"Monica?"
She started. "Then we'd all die of extreme obesity."
He snorted and went back to his burger. "Too true. Too bad though. It'd be awesome if a cucumber could make you come. Then I'd ask you your number just so I could watch you eat every day."
"Okay, okay-" With her autopilot hacked, her jackass meter didn't know which way to go. She blushed. "-how'd we get on this-" She waved her hand. "-topic."
"What topic? Cucumbers? You brought them up."
"No!" Monica took a hasty glance about. "Sex. I was having a quiet lunch by myself and now I'm talking sex with a complete stranger."
"Ouch." Rickie frowned. "I introduced myself. I'm Rickie. You're Monica. Not strangers."
Doofis. "And?"
He shrugged. "Your mind is in the gutter?"
"Wait. What?" Oh God- Naughty girl nodded vigorously. -it's true! "My mind? What about your mind?"
"Guilty, I suppose. But it's my job. What's you excuse?"
The jackass detector went all catawampus. Monica blinked; several times. "Your job?"
"Yeah-" He took another bite of his burger. "-I'm a sex therapist."
Her bullshit detector pinged. "A sex therapist?"
"Yeah."
"And just what do you do?" Ok . . . ay, this is officially weird. I can't believe I'm asking this. "Teach girls to orgasm?"
"Sometimes, not usually. Mostly its erectile dysfunction. Pre-ejaculation. Clinical frigidity. Couple's therapy. A lot of couple's therapy. Social barriers. Post traumatic sexual stress. Stuff like that.
"Sometimes it's necessary to help people, mostly men, get back their confidence after a bad breakup too."
"Social barriers?"
"You'd be surprised at how many women, and men, can't quite let go and enjoy themselves because of something they were taught at home, by their friends, at church, or school."
"Huh. So what do you do?" Naughty girl was panting and Monica squirmed her ass against her seat again. Her jackass detector and hot guy just fuck me already meter were not in agreement. Or maybe they were. Her ex sure had turned out to be quite an ass. "Do I even want to know?"
"Some problems require drugs. I can't do that. Know plenty of physicians that can prescribe them though. But-" He paused. "-for most it's simply a matter of practice."
Monica's voice climbed an octave. "Practice?" Naughty girl pranced about in her miss-matched succubus leathers and bridal lingerie.
"Yeah, practice makes perfect." Rickie picked up his shake.
"You practice with your-" Holey fuck! "-your patients."
Rickie snorted. Then coughed. He slammed his shake down. Tears leaked from his eyes. "Heavens-" He choked. "-no. I-" He wiped the tears from his eyes. "-talk them through their issues and try to convince them to practice. On their own. Or with their partner. Usually both. Sometimes, I'll coach someone in the art of self-pleasure. But no, I don't practice with them."
"Coach? Men too?" She couldn't see it. No man, no straight man, would want to be nude in front of this dude. They probably shrank away from him in bathroom stalls.
"In theory, yes. Never met one that needed coaching in that particular area though."
Heat blistered Monica's cheeks. "So - you see. . ."
Rickie rolled his eyes at her. "Yes, I've seen more than my share of young, old, fuck-me gorgeous and plain-Jane women in various states of undress. I've also seen them orgasm. Is there a problem with that?"
Yes. No! Naughty girl started drooling. Fuck, I don't know. "It's just that it seems so-" Monica shrugged and looked away. She bit her lip.
"Beautiful? You're right it is beautiful."
Naughty girl wrapped her legs about a fire-pole bar that somehow materialized on the bridge of Monica's soul and ran her very center down the hard shaft. Monica shimmied in her seat.
Rickie picked up a fry and pointed it at her. "Let me show you. Let's do a little experiment."
"Uh, what kind of experiment?"
"One that only works on intelligent and hyper creative women."
"Uh, o-" A proximity alert went off. She was broadside to danger but the naughty girl grabbed the helm and ran Monica's straight at the hazard. Seven-year-old nice girl stared at naughty girl like she was possessed. Which, come to think of it, she probably was. "-kay. But what is the experiment?"
"I'm going to talk to you. You are going to try an' picture what I'm saying."
"I don't see-"
"Trust me. Just close your eyes, Monica."
She held his gaze for a long moment. The girl at the helm jumped up and down. After several heartbeats of indecision, she let her lashes shutter her sight.
"Good, Monica. Thank you. Thank you for trusting me. The nice girl in you does such a good job of trying to do nice girl things, doesn't she?"
What the fuck? The seven-year old preened. How did he know?
"But it must be so tiring for that sweet little girl making all the decision. Everybody deserves a break."
Monica's blue ribboned and pigtailed self-nodded. Tears gathered in her kiddy eyes."
"So give her a break, and just breathe."
She cycled a breath.
"Again. Slower. Erase the voices. Don't listen to anything but me."
Candy-sweet seven-year-old eased back, plopped on the floor and played with the hem of her yellow dress. Naughty girl stood mesmerized at the helm.
"Good. Monica, imagine that burger. The bacon. The meat. The juices. How good it tasted. How absolutely uninhibited it made you feel."
The jaw of the lingerie clad wild woman at the steering wheel dropped open. A little drool dribbled down her chin. Heartbeats pulsed by.
"Are you imagining it?"
"Yeah." The word was a distant echo of the one uttered by the slattern of her soul.
"Good. Good.
"Now capture that feeling. Only the feeling." He paused. "Do you have it?"
"Mh-hm." The girl at the wheel pressed herself up as tight up as she could against the helm. Her guard was eyeballing his tranquilizer gun as if wondering why it wasn't working.
"You must let go of everything else. The burger. The taste. The table. The chair. All you should have is pleasure, and desire for more."
A pleasant warmth filled Monica's breast - pulsing, glowing, living - and an addictive craving. The lingerie clad helmsman licked her lips. Monica's seven-year-old trembled.
"Do you have it?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"Good.
"Breath. Deeper. Slower. Feel the pleasure. Feel it filling your body."
Monica's naughty girl rubbed herself all over the helm. Monica shimmied in her seat.
"Now imagine your hardest crush ever. Strip everything away but the feeling. Let it combine with your existing emotion. Feel that craving ache."
Naughty girl shuddered. A seed of that need planted itself in the center of Monica's breast. It grew with every cycled breath.
"Feel the energy. Feel it crying for fulfillment. Feel its need, its texture, its moisture, its weight."
Her aching desire grew so heavy it began to sink.
"It's so heavy now, like a hot, heavy, sweat steam. Can you feel it?"
"I - fuck." That wet heat was right between her legs. Naughty girl hands traveled from her breasts to her crotch and back again in a wanton dance.
"Now feel me cradled it in my hands. Nurturing its growth. Breathing upon it, feeding it, shaping it."
Monica trembled. Naughty girl orgasmed. But it wasn't enough. Monica's craving ache grew unbearable. Damp heat radiated from her core.
"The flame of your desire is in my hands. My words shape it. Your naughty girl bows to my will. If you relinquish your need to my control, I will grow it beyond your wildest dreams."
An alarm claxon went off. Naughty girl didn't care and nice girl had fallen asleep.
"You feel good, great. Do you not?"
"Yeah." That one word hollowed out her meager breast.
"You do wish to feel better?"
"Hhmmm." She was so close. Naughty girl was humping her hand again. The whimper hurt.
"Say yes, Monica. Say yes you want me to nourish your flame. Say yes you want to relinquish control. Say yes you want me to leash your naughty girl."
". . . Y-" Her breast shuddered. "-yes."
"Good, Monica, very good. Everytime I say cucumber girl you will come right back here, with your naughty girl in control and her leash in my hand. You want that don't you? To have your naughty girl leashed. To feel like this, every time I say cucumber girl?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. And every time you are here, I will feed, nourish and shape your desire."
"O-ok-ay."
"Good. Monica, do you want to orgasm?"
Orgasm? She squirmed in her chair. Here, in the mall? Naughty girl bobbed her head so hard her ponytail danced. Fuck! She was already so close. "Uh?"
"Monica, I control your desire. I hold your naughty girl's leash. I sculpt your very desires. If I told you to orgasm, would you have a choice?"
"N-no."
"Monica, do you want to orgasm? Right here. In your chair. In the mall. Where anybody can see you?"
Naughty girl panted.
"Monica, I'm breathing on the fire."
She whimpered.
"It's a nice great big fire. It burns you. It leaves a moist, empty ache in its wake."
She clutched her chair's arm rests and arched back. Her legs trembled with the strain.
"Monica, orgasm."
The hole between her legs imploded. Fire rushed in searing every nerve. A counter explosion spewed lava liquid in her pants.
Oh God. Oh fuck. Monica's face was nearly planted in her hamburger. Oh wow. She closed her legs and pushed herself off the table. Eew. She was wet. So really, very wet.
"You like that?"
Naughty girl picked herself up off the floor of the bridge and wobbled over to a portal where she could adore Rickie. "I-" She sucked in a stabilizing breath. "-I don't know." She leaned closer to Rickie. "Rick, shit, I orgasmed in public!" Sugar-sweet nice girl awoke from her nap and screwed herself for one bitch of a tantrum.
"Yeah, and that guy over there-" Rick pointed across the courtyard. "-watched you."
Nice girl blanched and ran to hide. Shit. A sunburn sear toasted every finger-width of Monica's skin. It was a miracle she didn't blister. Shit. Shit. Shit! She stood. "I need to go now."
Rickie chuckled. Monica's jackass detector overloaded. He was looking at her crotch.
Fuck. God. Had her jeans soaked through? She snatched the remains of her meal. "Bye." She put as much venom into that one syllable as possible.
Rickie seemed oblivious. His smiling eyes returned to hers. "See you around."
In your dreams. Naughty girl pouted. "Yeah, sure." There was nothing cordial or welcoming in her words.
Rickie turned and waved over his shoulder. "I'm moving into an apartment over there above the Gap. Fourth floor."
Fuck!
"You live there around here, don't you? I've seen you about quite a lot. Maybe you can invite me over sometime cucumber girl."
Fuck me! A bonfire ignited inside. Naughty girl kissed the porthole through which she adored Rickie. She gave it quite a lot of tongue but nice girl exploded in rage. Fury tensioning every sinew, Monica marched away without looking back.
By the time Monica was back in her apartment and cleaned up, nice girl's bitch rage had run its course, locked naughty girl in a cage and set a guard. Now, with time on her hands, nice girl began to nervously tug at a pigtail. She kept checking the door locks as if expecting a rapist to break through. After the fourth or fifth time, Monica ran trembling hands through her hair.
Well, shit. Now what? Monica glanced at the clock. It wasn't even seven on a Friday night. She'd usually go read a book in the quad, chat with Lina, maybe do some half ass flirting with a cute guy.
But there was no fucking way she was sitting in the floor's common area. Not now that Rickie might look for her there. God, he's probably telling everybody what a fool she'd made of me. Despair's aching maw opened in her breast.
No! She wasn't going to cry. Monica was through with tears. She attacked the counter with a washrag. The floors with a mop. Her couches, the toilets, the shower, anything and everything. With it still only a little past eight on a Friday night she began pre-cooking next week's meals. Completing that, she rooted in the frig to make a cucumber salad for tomorrow's lunch.
The moment her fingers touched the green, phallic vegetable, a candle wick heat blossomed in her core. Rickie wanted to watch her eat one.
Well, that's just great. She lay the vegetable upon her cutting board. I'll just have to invite the asshole for over for lunch. Maybe he'd like watching me dice one!
The teen-dream, jock-wet-dream naughty girl so recently thrown in the brig, fondled her sexy new collar.
Monica froze, her knife hovering over the cucumber. Oh holey fuck. Naughty girl grinned. Inexplicably, Rickie stood there, in the brig, patting naughty girl on the head like she was his favorite pet. No, no, no. No. Oh fuck, NO!
She chopped three green ringed slices. The phallus was still more than ten inches long. She raised her knife. Her hand holding the vegetable trembled. She couldn't wipe naughty girl's smile from her mind.
Oh fuck. The knife in her hand rattled against the countertop as she lay it down. Oh God. I can't. Fuck. I'm not going to do this. Seven-year-old Monica was crying. No. No. No.
Shit! Her breath cycled hard, rocking her meager breast. Fuck. The button fly of her jeans momentarily foiled Monica's trembling fingers. A whimpered growl, as though naughty girl and nice girl were both trying to speak at once, forced its way from Monica's throat. An inflamed will overcame all obstacles to wrest her jeans midway down her thigh.
Upon its first touch upon her naked flesh, the refrigerator chilled phallus should've doused her desire. Instead it nearly unhinged her. She caught herself on the edge of the counter even as the too big vegetable caught in the mouth of her sex. Inexplicably her core pushed at it, and while smaller than the head of a newborn it was still far larger than any man. It burned as it began to slide inside.
"Ooooh . . ." Every finger width of penetration drove Monica's mouth wider. Pain banded her thighs where denim bit into her stressed flesh.
The crotch of her jeans rent in two. She slammed breast to counter with the arm appended by cucumber pinned beneath her. The green phallus drove deep.
The collision with her womb had Monica clawing at the counter. She tried to yank the vegetable out but her fingers found no purchase upon its suddenly slick skin. Naughty girl screamed that it would get better and the seven-year-old fled the bridge for some dark corner to bawl in terror.
"Oh fuck." Monica pushed her forehead into the counter and panted. The muscles of her core rolled as though trying to feel out the invader and decide whether it felt good or not.
Oh God. It did. "Oh fuck." Her love button was out, whether from overexcitement or the overstuffing of her core, it didn't matter. It sparked against her pinned wrist. The peaks of her meager peaks stiffened. "F . . . uck."
Monica's convulsion pushed the slick vegetable out far enough she could grasp it. She pulled.
And her core clenched. "Oh God. Oh God. Oh God." Her knees rattled against the cabinets. An empty ache blossomed in the waked of the retreating mass.
"Oh God." Shit! Her hand trembled. Naughty girl was on her knees begging.
Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.
Oh God, fuck, why not? It's not like this can get any more wrong. At least not without Rickie here watching me. She pushed the green dildo back in.
And went up on her toes. Oh, fuckin' GaAaAawd! She panted. Her knees quaked. Her free hand clutched at the far edge of the counter.
Another stroke. "Oh shit!" Her grip on the counter slipped. She caught herself by her finger nails.
Out. "OoOoOoOoOoh-" In. "-fuck!"
She exploded. Light of every color and none swallowed her mind. Nerves overloaded and she slipped from the counter. A sharp pain in her elbow, when it stuck linoleum, triggered hyperventilation as she writhed upon the floor as she birthed a vegetable.
Sanity returned. In the brig of her soul-ship, Monica's naughty girl lay panting upon the floor of her cell even though the door was wide open and unguarded. In the real word, Monica picked herself off the linoleum.
"Eew. God. Gross." She made a face and held her hands away from her. They, her ass, her thighs, her torn jeans and much of the floor were covered in juiced cucumber and whatever that ungodly snot girls exuded when in heat. Inexplicably, candy-sweet, seven-year-old, nice girl, naughty girl and Monica all started crying at once.
Hours later, swaddled in warm flannels and curled in her bed, nice girl and Monica still sniffled. Naughty girl, locked up once more, was in a pleasant daze and kept sending warm, fuzzy signals every time she felt a twinge from her bruised uterus.
This went on for hours. At some point, Monica fell asleep. Morning warmth woke her.
What? She blinked at the unaccustomed sun shining upon her face. She pawed at her alarm clock.
Shit. She dropped back to her pillows. It was seven.
A banging sounded. It was not the first time her sub-conscious had heard it.
The door. Lina. She sat bolt upright. Shit, Lina!
She tripped from bed and stumbled to the apartment door. Naughty girl graced Monica with a sleepy smile from behind her bars at the not entirely unpleasant strain between her legs. Nice girl ignored them both.
Monica cracked the door to the chain stop. "Yes?"
"Hey girlfriend, where were you last night? Did I wake you up? You missed yoga class. You've got to meet the new guy on the floor. He's hot. Dibbs, by the way. Well, dibbs if I didn't already have the hottest hunk in the world."
"Rickie, right?" Monica unchained the door.
Lina's face glowed brighter than her hair. "Oh, you've met him." Her expression changed when she got a better look at her bedraggled friend. "Hey, what's up with you? I thought you were done crying over what's-his-face, asshole that dumped you dude."
Monica led Lina into the apartment. "I am. I wasn't. I'm not." She raked a hand through her bed head hair. "Whatever. I was not crying over Jason."
"Who was he?"
"Does it have to be a man?"
"When you look like this? Yes. Who was he?"
"Not now, Lina."
"It was Rickie! Did he fuck you?"
Really? Monica closed her eyes and cussed women's intuition. Are you for real? When she opened them, Lina stood, hands on hips, directly in front of her. Her make naughty girl jealous boobs were staring Monica in the face.
"Did. He. Fuck. You?"
Monica turned away from the disturbing sight. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he did."
"You mean you don't remember?"
If only you knew. "No, I'm pretty sure I got fucked right here." She pointed to her skull. "And right here." She placed a hand over her left breast. She cycled a breath. "And yes, maybe here too," she said, indicating her womb. "I'm pretty sure I hate him." Nice girl nodded her head. Naughty girl shook hers. A flood began to build behind Monica's eyes.
Lina stepped in to hug Monica. "Oh honey-"
A knock on the door interrupted Lina. Not latched, it swung open. Rickie strode in.
Lina stepped in front of Monica and gave Rickie her best what-the-fuck-did-you-do-to-my-friend glare.
Rick threw up his hands. "Hey, I was just coming to check if cucumber girl was okay."
Monica's eyes glazed over and her core rocked. Naughty girl dropped to her knees panting. Nice girl shook her head and walked away.
Too intuitive Lina looked from Rick to Monica. "Cucumber girl?"
Rickie chuckled. "Her favorite diet food."
"Weird."
"What? Should I call her something completely unoriginal like babe? Like, if I say, 'hey babe, lets fuck'-"
Lina's expression indicated her jackass detector had just gone off.
"-every girl in the room might go into heat. But if I say cucumber girl-"
Oh holey fuck! A flesh quake rocked Monica's thighs. Naughty girl teetered and fell writhing upon the floor of the brig.
"-everyone will know I'm talking just to Monica."
Lina stared at Rick, her eyes bigger than her boobs. Finally she turned to Monica. "You want me to get rid of this ass?"
If only you could. "Lina, can you give us a moment? Please."
Lina pointed at her and then Rick and back at Monica again. She shook her head. "Whatever, girlfriend. Be outside if you need me."
"Thanks."
Lina left still glancing from Monica to Rick and back again. Meanwhile, naughty girl picked herself up off the floor and pressed herself against the bars of her cage. Even confined, she wanted be as close to Rickie as possible.
When the door shut, Rickie obliged. He stepped right up to Monica. His gaze pinned her. His eyes looking down through the windows of her soul to the caged slattern trapped within. Naughty girl preened her dark tresses.
Her hair! Oh shit! Monica put a hand to her tangles. "Could you - uh - maybe come back later? After I've cleaned up."
"Yeah, sure, cucumber girl-"
Monica grabbed his shirt to keep from falling over. He continued as though nothing had happened.
"-I'd love to. But this can't wait. It'll only take a moment. I brought you a gift." He flipped open a small box. Within, two heavy glass balls nestled upon a bed of faux silk. "I thought your vegetable love might leave a few stretch marks. Keep these inside for a few weeks and you'll be the tightest chick this side of a strip joint."
Monica closed her eyes. Naughty girl ground against her bars. Holey fuckin' shit. There was no point resisting. Naughty girl didn't need no collar to do whatever Rickie said. Monica heaved a heavy breath and reached for the box.
Rickie swung the balls out of reach. "Oh no you don't, cucumber girl, they're my gift to you."
"Oh gaaawd! Monica clutched his shirt and buried her face in his shoulder while she trembled. Naughty girl dry humped a brass pole.
Rickie waited for her spasm to pass. When she disentangled herself, he said, "Take them off."
Monica shook her head. Naughty girl nodded vigorously.
"Take them off, don't make me say it again. It might kill you."
With trembling fingers Monica hooked the elastic of her pajama pants baring her wet bikini briefs.
"You should really be wearing a thong, something all lacy, unless, you know, it's that time the month."
Auto-response. "They're not practical." The words were out of her mouth before she could think.
"Then perhaps gee-strings, micro-scrunches?"
Monica's breast heaved. "Oh fuck!"
"Yeah, gee-strings, scrunches, the really small ones, maybe cage panties. Nothing like stripper wear to make a woman exude her fuck me vibe all the time. It'd be better if you wore heels too."
"Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit." Naughty girl pranced about her cell in her new gold, see-through, barely there underwear.
"I see you like the idea." He stepped close, pinned her shoulders and grabbed her hair. He forced her gaze up to his. He rolled the glass balls in his free hand. "I want to watch this."
Naughty girl began to writhe against the cell bars once more.
Ricky pulled Monica's night-shirt up and ran a ball down her belly. Monica, her gaze trapped, began to pant. His hand slipped inside her panties but stopped the orb right on her love button.
"You need to shave, no wax, cucumber girl. Betty yet, laser it off."
"Oh God. FuUuUuUuck!" She ground her pearl against the marble. "Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck." She rose up on her toes trying to slip it, or his fingers, or both inside. "Please!"
"Please what, cucumber girl?"
Her mouth opened. Aching need swallowed Monica whole. Every muscle in her body spasmed. Naughty girl passed out on the floor of her cell. Rickie slipped first one and the other glass weight within her volcanic core. He stepped back. His shirt in her fist was the only thing that keeping her upright and she fell forward following him.
The door having busted wide open, naughty girl crawled from the brig and pulled herself to the helm of Monica's soul. "Fuck me," Monica said. "God dam-it Rickie. Just stop this and fuck me already."
He gently pried her fingers from his shirt. "Not yet," he said.
Fuckin' what? Naughty girl threw herself at the windshield. She plastered her body all over that barrier between the imaginary and real that kept her from her new sex god.
"You're a really nice girl, Monica. I'm don't want to be a jerk an all, but I've got a job to do. I wish - nevermind." He shut the apartment door gently behind him.
Monica fell to her knees. The marbles rolled around inside of herself. She automatically clenched when one tried to spit free.
Oh hell. She hung her head. What the fuck had just happened?
No answer came. Was she really that undesirable, that, that ugly? No man, not in her experience, could have resisted that much raw, helpless need. The Pope would've fucked her.
In a daze she picked herself off the floor, showered and dressed. Nice girl didn't even try to take the helm. Nor did she complain when naughty girl had Monica put on the one gee-string she owned, the one that had been intended for her marital evening. Monica summoned nice girl to dress the rest of her, made an appointment at Nails & Other Bits and went shopping. Enough fuckin' gee-strings to get her from one wash to another was going to put a hole in her checking account.
By the time she returned to her apartment that evening, her thighs hurt. She rarely spent a whole day in platform pumps.
And that was not her only pain. Hair-pull burn stung her crotch and naughty girl kept shoving them devil balls back in every time one slipped out. She'd never obeyed nice girl, why was she obeying Rickie. Her obedience was giving Monica cramps and it wasn't even that shit time of month.
And one of them balls had slipped down her pant-leg while at the cashier's in Fredrick's & Hollywood. The guy in line behind her had retrieved it for her. His shocked expression when he handed it back said he knew exactly what the slime coating was.
The wash of emotions set Monica's sugar-sweet, seven-year-old to crying and hiding again. Without nice girl at the helm, naughty girl kept trying to shoot everything with a dick come hither looks. Rickie had been right. The effin' gee-string had her broadcasting so loud, some jackass got slapped by his wife and more than one woman's eyes screamed slut when Monica dared to meet their gaze.
What a day. She dropped everything in the middle of the floor. She fell into her couch without unpack anything and kicked off her fuckin' pumps. Naughty girl, collard or not, was not going to keep those torcher devices on her feet. Not in her own home, even if the slattern did keep pushing those horrible balls back in every time they slipped.
God, how many people had seen her stutter step, shimmy and poke at herself trying to keep the things sucked up? She rolled her head back and pushed her palms into her eyes.
A knock sounded at the door. Grabbing her crotch, so the devil balls wouldn't slip out, she forced herself to her feet.
"Hey girlfriend." Lina pushed into her apartment when Monica opened the door. "I haven't seen you all day. You look like shit."
"Thank you," Monica said and plodded back to the couch.
"I know-" There was a long pause as Lina took in the brazen pink bag sitting like a princess amongst the Monica's groceries and other necessities. "I know what will make you all better."
"Not Tippers."
"Tippers! Tobey, Derik, Heather, Lara and I are all going. Rickie will be there."
"Then I'm definitely not going." She plopped in her seat and both balls bounced out. She wasn't wearing enough panties to catch them but at least her jeans concealed the evidence.
"Oh come on," Lina said. She tugged Monica's arm. "I saw you with Rick. You want him."
"I do not!" Naughty girl Willy Vanillied liar, liar pants on fire.
"Yes you do. Come on. It'll be fun."
"I asked him to fuck me. He said, 'No.'"
Lina's mouth dropped open. "You what?"
"You heard me."
"Okay, girlfriend, what have I told you about kissin' on the first date."
"We haven't even been on a date!"
"Well, now's your chance."
"What part of he. said. no. do you not understand?"
"The part where you didn't even try to seduce him, girlfriend. Give it time!"
"Lina, I don't want to go."
"Oh, you're going." Lina grabbed Monica's hand and yanked her to her feet.
"Lina!" She clamped her legs against the balls rolling down her thighs. "Fine." She duck waddled to the bathroom. "Give me a moment."
Safely readjusted, with a vice like grip on the balls, she came back out and rooted in her closet for a pair of flats. Naughty girl planted a hand on her lace framed hip and pointed at her pumps.
Really? Monica whined at the succubus. Naughty girl nodded. Well, fuck me. Naughty girl nodded eagerly. Since nice girl wasn't present to argue otherwise, Monica slipped the devil devices back on her feet.
"Oh, your shoes! They're perfect!"
Monica followed her friend out the door and locked up her apartment. "You want to wear them?"
"Can I? Tomorrow I mean? Tobey and I are going to the Grand American for dinner. They'd be so hot with that black dress I bought last month."
Monica looked at her pumps. Lina was probably right.
That didn't make them any more fun following Lina to the elevator. As they passed through the common room Yale's eyes followed them. Normally his eyes would have been glued to Lina's ass. Today naughty girl basked in the masculine, no matter how unfuckably nerdy it might've been, attention. A roseate burn toasted Monica's cheeks.
"Well, that was interesting," Lina said after the elevator doors closed. "You look good, girlfriend."
"Yeah. I keep getting that today."
"I'm sure Rickie will notice."
"I don't want Rickie to notice."
"Naughty, naughty, naughty. You shouldn't tell your bestie fibs."
"I thought you said the boys were coming."
"They're already there. And it's not all of them. Just the hunks. That's why Yale was back there."
"Really? How many drinks did you have before you came to get me?"
"Just one."
Monica rolled her eyes.
Tippers was just a short walk past Gap towards the fountain. The boys were seated outside. Monica felt every pair of male eyes as they passed through the restaurant proper. Naughty girl strutted.
Monica leaned close to Lina's ear. "I thought blonds were supposed to have more fun.
"It's nice sharing the attention for once. You should tap into your whole look-at-me-I'm-sexy vibe more often. God knows you'd knock them dead. Look at them."
"Yeah. I'm not sure I'm going to be given a choice."
Lina glanced at Monica strangely but they had reached the boy's table. Rickie rose to his feet and pulled out a chair for Monica. Tobey scrambled to do the same for Lina.
Heather elbowed Derik. "See, they're real gentlemen."
Derik snorted and quaffed his beer. "Gentlemen don't get laid."
"Oh, I don't know," Heather replied, "Pretty sure she's getting plowed tonight," but it was under her breath and Derik didn't hear.
Rick waved down a passing waiter. "What'll you have, cucumber?"
Naughty girl's attention riveted on Rickie. Monica tensed and certain bits stood to attention but the second word of the trigger was not forthcoming.
"A lemon drop." She had to say it twice to be heard.
"A lemon drop for the lady, please."
When it arrived, Monica nursed it. Lina managed three for Monica's one and Monica chased hers with a water. Eventually, Derik and Heather drifted away. Lara left shortly thereafter. A drink, maybe two, thereafter, Lina fell out of her chair.
"Oh my God!" She knocked her chair over trying to climb back up. She laughed so much harder than a simple giggle. "Help me-" She snorted so hard tears leaked from her eyes. "-I can't get up."
Tobey and Monica leapt Lina's aid. Monica lost a marble in the scuffle. Rickie shot her a wink and pocketed it before anyone else took note.
"Well, shit. She's drunk off her ass," Tobey said. "How many drinks did you have?"
Lina hit her breast. "Moi?"
"Yes, Moi. Who'd you think I meant?"
Lina chewed her lip like a pencil. "Four." She staggered a step. "No - no. It was five!" A heartbeat later she said, "Six?"
"Six. Fuck Lina! What's up with you? You never used to be like this?"
"Yeah." Lina went all dreamy. "Let's fuck."
"Lina!" Tobey and Monica both exclaimed. "You're wasted," Tobey added.
"I'll take her home," Monica said.
"That's okay. You stay here." He nodded at Rickie. "I'll get her in bed."
Monica's naughty girl smiled.
"No, I think-"
"I'll get her in bed. I'm not bedding her. Not like this. God, Monica, what's gotten into her? Since a month or so before you broke up with Jason, every time we all go out she gets plastered."
"We'll all go," Rickie said before Monica could respond to the kicked puppy-dog expression that washed over Tobey's face. "I'll get the check."
Tobey and Monica helped Lina stager out. Rick caught up as they maneuvered the drunk girl onto their elevator.
"God dam-it." Tobey punched the button to their floor. "Tonight was supposed to be special."
"We can still fuck."
"No, Lina, we can't."
Lina pouted but then her expression suddenly cleared. "You can do Monica."
"What?" Tobey's exclamation was a staccato bark. Monica's was more of a screech.
"That's an excellent idea, Lina," Rick said. The blood drained from Monica's face. "What do you say, cucumber girl?"
Monica staggered. She dropped Lina and caught herself upon the handrail circling the elevator cab. She panted, her core groped the remaining ball inside her. Naughty girl waltzed up to the placard engraved with the names of all the men she'd like to do and licked the new name appended there. That tongue might as well have run over Monica's clit.
Oh God, noooo. She shuddered. Fuck! "God dam-it, Rick! He's her boyfriend! My best friend's boyfriend!" Boyfriend came out as a near sheik.
"It was her idea."
"She's drunk!"
"What's going on?" Tobey said.
Lina staggered first one way and then the other. A goofy grin split her face. "Monica's got the hots for you bad boy."
"Maybe she's angling for a threesome," Rick said.
"She couldn't get it on if her life depended on it." Monica snapped, and you know it. "She's going to pass-out the moment she hits her bed."
"I dare you. I double dog swimsuit Barbie dare you."
Lina had been looking at Monica but Tobey answer. "No way. Lina, I'm yours."
"Awe." Lina turned, tripped, grabbed Tobey's shirt and planted her face in his navel. She climbed his chest back to her feet. "Look at her ass. Don't you want to bend that over and plow it? I know you do."
Monica hid her face in her hands while naughty girl bent over to touch her toes like it was already a done deal. The brief spark she'd caught in Tobey's eye told her Lina had painted a lude picture in his mind as well.
The cab came to a halt and the elevator doors opened. Tobey scooped Lina off her feet. Lina's head lolled over backwards as she was carried from the car and looked right in Monica's eyes.
"Monica's going to get fucked. Monica's going to get fucked."
Every eye followed Lina as Tobey carried her across the populated common-room to her apartment. The communal gaze turned on Monica the moment the door closed behind them.
"You're going to want this." Rick dropped the missing marble in her hand. He leaned into her ear. "I won't make you drop your pants out here."
"Turn it off. Please just-" Her meager breasts heaved. "-turn it off."
"It doesn't work like that."
"Try."
Several heartbeats cycled by. "No."
"No, you won't or, no, you can't."
"Does it matter?"
"I guess not."
Stares trailing her every step, Monica strode to her room. Her door banged shut and she collapsed upon it. Despite her despair, or perhaps because of it, who the fuck knew anymore, naughty girl was doing yoga. Downward facing dog. Camel pose. Cat. There were countless fuck me poses in yoga when one was wearing a gee-string.
God no. Please no. He's Lina's boyfriend. Practically her lovey, dovey fiancé. Tobey had been asking her, Monica, for ring advice and she was going to fuck him! Monica began to cry.
No. No. Only if he made a pass. If he didn't try, she'd be able to resist. Tobey was a good man, a real farm-boy, it wouldn't happen.
Hope dried Monica's tears. Tobey and Lina were going to the Grand American. You didn't get in there without a black tie or nice dress. By tomorrow he'd forget all about Lina's offer. All she had to do was make herself scarce.
Which meant, not being here. Tobey was sure to be over soon for some sisterly advice. Lina's drinking thing had made him upset.
Okay, fuck, where to go? There was a Hyatt at the north end of the mall. But-
Her checkbook was effin' empty. Fuck-me panties cost a lot of money.
Okay, girl, just don't answer the door. Monica caught a glimpse of naughty girl's knowing smile. Yeah. No. So?
Just get out and stay out. She only had to dodge him for an hour or so before he'd give up and go to bed. She grabbed her laundry, piled on her new day-to-day, she'd prefer to wash it before wearing it lingerie collection on top and headed out the door. He wouldn't look for her in the laundromat, not on a Saturday night, she hoped.
The gaze of a half-dozen floor tenants greeted her as she left her apartment but Rickie and, thank God, Tobey weren't present. Most immediately lost interest and went back to the television, game or girl. Only Yale's gaze groped her ass all the way to the laundromat.
A cool swell of relief welled up within Monica as she slipped into the relative safety of the floor's dorm style laundry room without Tobey emerging from Lina' room. Only one machine was running so she claimed four; whites, colors, delicates and extra-delicates.
"Monica?"
The last door closed with a clunk. Water sploshed and the machine wound up with a space-age whine.
"Monica?"
"Yeah-" She stood and rubbed her back. She turned about. "Shit!" She leapt backward and slammed the washing-machine with her ass. The solo ball still rolling about within her bounced. "Fuck." She stumbled in her pumps and nearly fell.
Tobey caught her. Her heart began to gallop. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Her core went all chocolate fondue gooey.
Tobey pushed her back onto her feet. Naughty girl leaned in for a kiss and nearly fell over. Monica staggered.
"Careful." Tobey caught her shoulder. "You okay?"
Fuck, no! How can you ask that? A teapot scream pressured up her breast.
Tobey turned a shoulder and scuffed the floor with a toe. "I'm really sorry 'bout all that. About - I mean - well - Lina."
"It's okay." Her voice was pinched. Just effin' go away! Tears stung nice girl's eyes as naughty girl offered up a lewd pose.
"Not about the alcohol - well, that too - but what she said."
Monica couldn't help it. They'd been friends for two years. Her heart went out to Tobey. She placed a trembling hand upon his shoulder. His gaze rose to hers.
Eros' arrow plunged into her core. Naughty girl rocked. Monica's thighs quivered.
"I mean, why would she say that?"
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Monica couldn't tear her eyes away. She took a small step closer to Lina's man. "She-" A spasm stole her voice. She could feel the heat radiating off his chest. His flat, broad, chest. "She was drunk." The words were strangled.
"Do you think-"
"No!" Monica just about screamed. Naughty girl had found a brass pole to slide down. Monica butted her face against Tobey's chest. She tried to push away but her hands refused to obey. They merely trembled against the hard flesh of his pecks.
"You sure you're okay?"
"No." The word was a sob.
Tobey's farm-boy arms encircled her. The thunder of his heart picked up its pace.
"I can't get what she said out of my head."
Nice girl fled. Naughty girl sashayed around her pole. Monica pressed herself tighter to Tobey and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Can you?"
"No." The word was a whimper. The hot aching need Rickie had awakened and now controlled gnawed at her.
"We should-"
Tobey stiffened as naughty girl ground Monica's core against his leg.
No, fuck, no. There was no force in the thought. Naughty girl smiled at her.
"Monica?" Tobey pushed her chin up such that their gazes tangled. His eyes dilated. His other hand ran up her back and tangled in her hair.
Monica's breast heaved and naughty girl swooned. Tobey pushed her back a step.
"We shouldn't."
"No." She shook her head.
"I . . . Do you feel it?"
A shiver squeaked up out of Monica's breast and she whimpered.
"Tell me you feel it?"
"I do," she said in a small voice and nodded. His fist tightened in her hair.
"We should stop."
"We should." Naughty girl started grinding the pole. Monica shivered.
"We're not going to, are we?"
"N - n - no."
"Holey fuck." Tobey utterance was a breathy whisper.
A paralytic ache stole Monica's will. Tobey nudged her back a step and pushed her ass right against the rumbling washing-machine. Vibration pushed right through her and set the ball within to jumping.
Naughty girl and Monica gasped in unison. Oh God. Oh fuck. Oh God. Tobey ratcheted her head back. Monica's breasts heaved. His lips met hers. She moaned. He crushed her, lips, tongue, breast, thighs to himself.
Naughty girl went insane. All control went out the window. Her nerves went haywire and overloaded. She touched him everywhere. Her fingers tangled in his hair. Her free hand grasped at anything trying to maintain an anchor on reality but there was no strength, she kept losing her grip as senses overflowed again and again and again.
Tobey shoved her up on the vibrating machine. Monica's hands tore at his belt and he at hers. He pulled back a step peeling her denim skin from her thighs.
Tobey froze. "Holey fuck." His eyes grew wide.
"What?" Panic poisoned her voice.
Tobey's thumps hooked under the straps of her gee-string thong. He fingered the lace garment. "This? You're wearing this? A virgin fuck-me thong? Holey fuckin' hell, Monica. You're so hot!"
"Oh shit." She fell back on her elbows and pivoted her hips.
He stripped her wanton flesh. "Oh. My. God." Tobey lay his hand on her belly and stroked down over her naked heat. For long seconds he held her there, his wonder feeding her ache.
"Shit-" She ground her heat up in his hand. "F-f-f-fuUuUuk me."
His hand still pressing her need, Tobey yanked at his fly. Buttons popped lose. He tore down his boxer briefs. His swollen meat fell loose.
Mesmerized, naughty girl reached for the stiff tool. Monica's finger touched Tobey's pulsing finger.
It leapt.
"Shit! Fuck Monica! I can't hold on." Tobey grabbed her hips and yanked her towards him. Monica fell backward. Her ass slapped against his thighs and his dick ran up her crease.
Monica's love bud sparkled. "Uhg!" Her breast heaved and the air burnt her lungs.
Tobey pulled back, his hot rod dragging slowly across her pearl. Neural jolts shivered her thighs. His head came to rest in her juncture. He pushed.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. GaAaAawd! Monica pushed up on her elbows. Her hips pivoted desperate to meet his slow drive. "God." Her breast heaved. The ball rolled with his shaft. "Tobey!"
"Fuck. Monica. What the hell?"
"No, no, no. No. No! Don't stop. Don't stop. Tobey!"
Tobey pistoned back and slammed into her.
"GaAaAaAawd!" Her core powered down with a vice grip.
He pulled free. The ball rolled.
"FfFfFfuck." She sobbed her breaths. The world spun down tighter and tighter into the black hole of her need. Tobey's hot rod heat fed her, spiraling her higher.
She lost control. Her elbows fell from under her. Head and shoulder cracked upon the top of the vibrating washing-machine. Her thigh's locked about the heavenly invader. She exploded.
Tobey kept cycling. His rod packed more and more powder within her keg. Her love button sparked with every crashing thrust. Fireworks erupted along every never.
"Tobey. God. Tobey. Tooobey!"
A thunderclap thrust. Lava poured into her. The black hole of her need went nova and seizure slammed naughty girl to the floor. Kaleidoscope color swallowed Monica's mind.
***
"Uhg . . ." Monica slid bonelessly from the washing-machine. The slimed marble clacked against the floor and rolled away.
Tobey caught her. His flaccid member trailed cooled slime up her belly. "I got you."
Monica clung to his shirt.
"I got you." He stroked her pony-tail.
Terrible, aching hurt clawed at Monica's breast. "I-" Nice girl rocked in a corner and began to cry. "-Lina."
Tobey tensed. She could feel the guilt withering his flesh.
"Yes, Lina."
Monica and Tobey leapt away from eachother. Tobey fumbled with his pants.
"This is about Lina," Rickie said. "Lina and Jason."
Hot, stabbing, fire fury roared in Monica's ears. "You!" She launched herself at him, claws arrowing for his face.
"Cucumber girl."
A hormonal tidal-wave knocked her off course. She bounced off the wall and crashed to her knees.
Tobey planted himself between Monica and the monster in the door "What the fuck is going on?"
Rickie looked past him to Monica. "Remember what I said about helping guys get over breakups?"
Monica shook her head.
"After the hamburger. When I was telling you what I do."
Monica gave him a blank look. Rickie heaved a heavy breath.
"I help people get over breakups. I get them revenge."
"I don't understand." Fire burnt her breast. "How is this revenge?"
"Jason."
Monica clawed her way to her feet. "You - you ruined me! You made me fuck my best friend's man!" she screamed. Tears streamed from her eyes."
"No. Your best friend fucked your man."
Shock leached all thought. Tobey turned wolf moon white.
"Lina seduced Jason." Rickie looked to Tobey. "Why do you think she gets drunk every time you're supposed to have a special night? Especially if Monica's present."
"I . . ."
"She's guilty. She doesn't deserve you, just like Jason doesn't deserve Monica."
"But you - we . . ."
Rickie turned to leave. "We're through, Monica. You're free. Likely we'll never meet again, but if you'd listen to a sex therapists advice, keep fuckin' that man." He nodded towards Tobey. "You're both kind. You want to be faithful even when you know you can't. You're wholesome and true. You're right for eachother."
Monica's eyes slowly raised from the empty door to Tobey's face. Tobey met her gaze and it was like they were seeing eachother for the first time.
"What are we going to tell Lina?" Monica said, her voice small.
Tobey's folded Monica in his farm boy arms. Just rage painted his voice. "Fuck Lina."
Thank God for cheat day.
She stuffed a second bite of her burger in her mouth.
"Mind if I sit here?" The voice was warm and slightly amused.
Shit! Monica's eyes snapped open. Oh wow. The naughty girl within her, so often tranquilized of late, peeked.
Tall. Mussed hair. A little rugged.
Fit. Fit was the right word. Something fluttered in her breast and her hot hunk I might want to fuck that meter turned green.
She gulped and her half chewed food formed a knot that scoured its way down her esophagus. She nearly dropped her cheeseburger in her haste to grab a napkin and scrubbed at the grease dribbling from her chin. Her skin flamed from more than just the sun beaming on her in the outdoor, Euroesk mall.
"Uh-" Monica whipped her head about. Her ponytail lashed her cheek. More than half the tables were empty. "-there's an empty table over there. By the fountain."
The man-boy smiled at her. "There's no beautiful, solo, unattached women over there."
On the bridge of her soul, Monica's jackass detector went off. Even so, a rose tide seared her flesh. She moved her hand under the table. Her thumb touched her heart finger.
The flash of warmth evaporated. There was no ring there and mourning widow black draped her spirit. The engagement had broken up six months prior. She dropped her gaze from the Adonis standing before her.
"I wasn't expecting -uh - company. I was just enjoying some down time." The sugar-sweet, nice-girl, seven-year-old at the helm of Monica's soul, squealed in alarm and she hastily flipped the romance novel beside her, face down.
The man's eyebrow arched. "Then by all means, read." He set down his tray upon the little, rickety courtyard table. "Until then, I'll keep you company. No harm, no foul."
Monica's jackass meter hit DEFCON 2. The fucker pulled up a chair. "I'm Rick." He extended a hand over the table. "Call me Rickie if you want. My friends do."
God, Rickie, take a hint! Nice girl forced Monica to take his hand but her expression couldn't have possibly been inviting. Go away!
But their hands met with an electron jolt that rocked nice girl back on her heels and erased Monica's glare. Warm, gentle, strong all registered in the ship's log, or, more accurately, in naughty girl's diary. The fluttering in her breast returned with a heavy wing-beat. "I-" Oh God, don't make a fool of yourself Monica. "-I'm Monica."
"Monica," he said. "Lovely name."
Monica's jackass meter eased up a bit.
He turned her hand over. Warm breath kissed her wrist. Moist heat touched her breast and the butterflies ignited, a cyclone of need sinking lower and lower. Fire moths swarmed in her very core and it melted.
Naughty girl, squeezed herself, like she was making love to her own curves, and Monica squirmed in her seat. Holey shit. She pulled her hand back slowly and put her hand under the table. She scrubbed her wrist against her jeans to buff out the hyper-aware flesh awakened there.
Rickie pretended not to notice. He sank back in his seat and began to eat. "So, a double-super-duper-bacon-burger. One heck of a mouthful."
"Uh, yeah?" Where's this going?
"Just enjoy watching a girl enjoy her meat."
Fuck me! Naughty girl clapped. "Your lucky day then. Most the time it's cucumbers and yogurt." She took a sip of her shake to stabilize her hands.
"Yeah, I suppose cucumbers don't make you orgasm quite the same."
Oh lord. The jackass meter lit up again. Seven-year-old Monica panicked. "What?" Did he really just say that?
"You heard me. I saw you. If that wasn't pleasure in its most exquisite form, I don't know what an orgasm is."
Nice girl, even-year-old wound herself up for one mother of a tantrum. Monica's gave Rickie the eye. "Then you clearly don't know what an orgasm is."
"Really?"
He held her glare. The left side of his lips bowed in a lopsided smile and stalled the impending witching-hour. Before nice girl could react, naughty girl jabbed a screwdriver into the autopilot. Sparks from her core shorted out Monica's thoughts.
Finally she managed, "Food can't make you orgasm."
"What if it could?" His smile broadened.
Monica's mind got lost in naughty girl's heavy breathing. Several heartbeats hammered by.
"Monica?"
She started. "Then we'd all die of extreme obesity."
He snorted and went back to his burger. "Too true. Too bad though. It'd be awesome if a cucumber could make you come. Then I'd ask you your number just so I could watch you eat every day."
"Okay, okay-" With her autopilot hacked, her jackass meter didn't know which way to go. She blushed. "-how'd we get on this-" She waved her hand. "-topic."
"What topic? Cucumbers? You brought them up."
"No!" Monica took a hasty glance about. "Sex. I was having a quiet lunch by myself and now I'm talking sex with a complete stranger."
"Ouch." Rickie frowned. "I introduced myself. I'm Rickie. You're Monica. Not strangers."
Doofis. "And?"
He shrugged. "Your mind is in the gutter?"
"Wait. What?" Oh God- Naughty girl nodded vigorously. -it's true! "My mind? What about your mind?"
"Guilty, I suppose. But it's my job. What's you excuse?"
The jackass detector went all catawampus. Monica blinked; several times. "Your job?"
"Yeah-" He took another bite of his burger. "-I'm a sex therapist."
Her bullshit detector pinged. "A sex therapist?"
"Yeah."
"And just what do you do?" Ok . . . ay, this is officially weird. I can't believe I'm asking this. "Teach girls to orgasm?"
"Sometimes, not usually. Mostly its erectile dysfunction. Pre-ejaculation. Clinical frigidity. Couple's therapy. A lot of couple's therapy. Social barriers. Post traumatic sexual stress. Stuff like that.
"Sometimes it's necessary to help people, mostly men, get back their confidence after a bad breakup too."
"Social barriers?"
"You'd be surprised at how many women, and men, can't quite let go and enjoy themselves because of something they were taught at home, by their friends, at church, or school."
"Huh. So what do you do?" Naughty girl was panting and Monica squirmed her ass against her seat again. Her jackass detector and hot guy just fuck me already meter were not in agreement. Or maybe they were. Her ex sure had turned out to be quite an ass. "Do I even want to know?"
"Some problems require drugs. I can't do that. Know plenty of physicians that can prescribe them though. But-" He paused. "-for most it's simply a matter of practice."
Monica's voice climbed an octave. "Practice?" Naughty girl pranced about in her miss-matched succubus leathers and bridal lingerie.
"Yeah, practice makes perfect." Rickie picked up his shake.
"You practice with your-" Holey fuck! "-your patients."
Rickie snorted. Then coughed. He slammed his shake down. Tears leaked from his eyes. "Heavens-" He choked. "-no. I-" He wiped the tears from his eyes. "-talk them through their issues and try to convince them to practice. On their own. Or with their partner. Usually both. Sometimes, I'll coach someone in the art of self-pleasure. But no, I don't practice with them."
"Coach? Men too?" She couldn't see it. No man, no straight man, would want to be nude in front of this dude. They probably shrank away from him in bathroom stalls.
"In theory, yes. Never met one that needed coaching in that particular area though."
Heat blistered Monica's cheeks. "So - you see. . ."
Rickie rolled his eyes at her. "Yes, I've seen more than my share of young, old, fuck-me gorgeous and plain-Jane women in various states of undress. I've also seen them orgasm. Is there a problem with that?"
Yes. No! Naughty girl started drooling. Fuck, I don't know. "It's just that it seems so-" Monica shrugged and looked away. She bit her lip.
"Beautiful? You're right it is beautiful."
Naughty girl wrapped her legs about a fire-pole bar that somehow materialized on the bridge of Monica's soul and ran her very center down the hard shaft. Monica shimmied in her seat.
Rickie picked up a fry and pointed it at her. "Let me show you. Let's do a little experiment."
"Uh, what kind of experiment?"
"One that only works on intelligent and hyper creative women."
"Uh, o-" A proximity alert went off. She was broadside to danger but the naughty girl grabbed the helm and ran Monica's straight at the hazard. Seven-year-old nice girl stared at naughty girl like she was possessed. Which, come to think of it, she probably was. "-kay. But what is the experiment?"
"I'm going to talk to you. You are going to try an' picture what I'm saying."
"I don't see-"
"Trust me. Just close your eyes, Monica."
She held his gaze for a long moment. The girl at the helm jumped up and down. After several heartbeats of indecision, she let her lashes shutter her sight.
"Good, Monica. Thank you. Thank you for trusting me. The nice girl in you does such a good job of trying to do nice girl things, doesn't she?"
What the fuck? The seven-year old preened. How did he know?
"But it must be so tiring for that sweet little girl making all the decision. Everybody deserves a break."
Monica's blue ribboned and pigtailed self-nodded. Tears gathered in her kiddy eyes."
"So give her a break, and just breathe."
She cycled a breath.
"Again. Slower. Erase the voices. Don't listen to anything but me."
Candy-sweet seven-year-old eased back, plopped on the floor and played with the hem of her yellow dress. Naughty girl stood mesmerized at the helm.
"Good. Monica, imagine that burger. The bacon. The meat. The juices. How good it tasted. How absolutely uninhibited it made you feel."
The jaw of the lingerie clad wild woman at the steering wheel dropped open. A little drool dribbled down her chin. Heartbeats pulsed by.
"Are you imagining it?"
"Yeah." The word was a distant echo of the one uttered by the slattern of her soul.
"Good. Good.
"Now capture that feeling. Only the feeling." He paused. "Do you have it?"
"Mh-hm." The girl at the wheel pressed herself up as tight up as she could against the helm. Her guard was eyeballing his tranquilizer gun as if wondering why it wasn't working.
"You must let go of everything else. The burger. The taste. The table. The chair. All you should have is pleasure, and desire for more."
A pleasant warmth filled Monica's breast - pulsing, glowing, living - and an addictive craving. The lingerie clad helmsman licked her lips. Monica's seven-year-old trembled.
"Do you have it?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"Good.
"Breath. Deeper. Slower. Feel the pleasure. Feel it filling your body."
Monica's naughty girl rubbed herself all over the helm. Monica shimmied in her seat.
"Now imagine your hardest crush ever. Strip everything away but the feeling. Let it combine with your existing emotion. Feel that craving ache."
Naughty girl shuddered. A seed of that need planted itself in the center of Monica's breast. It grew with every cycled breath.
"Feel the energy. Feel it crying for fulfillment. Feel its need, its texture, its moisture, its weight."
Her aching desire grew so heavy it began to sink.
"It's so heavy now, like a hot, heavy, sweat steam. Can you feel it?"
"I - fuck." That wet heat was right between her legs. Naughty girl hands traveled from her breasts to her crotch and back again in a wanton dance.
"Now feel me cradled it in my hands. Nurturing its growth. Breathing upon it, feeding it, shaping it."
Monica trembled. Naughty girl orgasmed. But it wasn't enough. Monica's craving ache grew unbearable. Damp heat radiated from her core.
"The flame of your desire is in my hands. My words shape it. Your naughty girl bows to my will. If you relinquish your need to my control, I will grow it beyond your wildest dreams."
An alarm claxon went off. Naughty girl didn't care and nice girl had fallen asleep.
"You feel good, great. Do you not?"
"Yeah." That one word hollowed out her meager breast.
"You do wish to feel better?"
"Hhmmm." She was so close. Naughty girl was humping her hand again. The whimper hurt.
"Say yes, Monica. Say yes you want me to nourish your flame. Say yes you want to relinquish control. Say yes you want me to leash your naughty girl."
". . . Y-" Her breast shuddered. "-yes."
"Good, Monica, very good. Everytime I say cucumber girl you will come right back here, with your naughty girl in control and her leash in my hand. You want that don't you? To have your naughty girl leashed. To feel like this, every time I say cucumber girl?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. And every time you are here, I will feed, nourish and shape your desire."
"O-ok-ay."
"Good. Monica, do you want to orgasm?"
Orgasm? She squirmed in her chair. Here, in the mall? Naughty girl bobbed her head so hard her ponytail danced. Fuck! She was already so close. "Uh?"
"Monica, I control your desire. I hold your naughty girl's leash. I sculpt your very desires. If I told you to orgasm, would you have a choice?"
"N-no."
"Monica, do you want to orgasm? Right here. In your chair. In the mall. Where anybody can see you?"
Naughty girl panted.
"Monica, I'm breathing on the fire."
She whimpered.
"It's a nice great big fire. It burns you. It leaves a moist, empty ache in its wake."
She clutched her chair's arm rests and arched back. Her legs trembled with the strain.
"Monica, orgasm."
The hole between her legs imploded. Fire rushed in searing every nerve. A counter explosion spewed lava liquid in her pants.
Oh God. Oh fuck. Monica's face was nearly planted in her hamburger. Oh wow. She closed her legs and pushed herself off the table. Eew. She was wet. So really, very wet.
"You like that?"
Naughty girl picked herself up off the floor of the bridge and wobbled over to a portal where she could adore Rickie. "I-" She sucked in a stabilizing breath. "-I don't know." She leaned closer to Rickie. "Rick, shit, I orgasmed in public!" Sugar-sweet nice girl awoke from her nap and screwed herself for one bitch of a tantrum.
"Yeah, and that guy over there-" Rick pointed across the courtyard. "-watched you."
Nice girl blanched and ran to hide. Shit. A sunburn sear toasted every finger-width of Monica's skin. It was a miracle she didn't blister. Shit. Shit. Shit! She stood. "I need to go now."
Rickie chuckled. Monica's jackass detector overloaded. He was looking at her crotch.
Fuck. God. Had her jeans soaked through? She snatched the remains of her meal. "Bye." She put as much venom into that one syllable as possible.
Rickie seemed oblivious. His smiling eyes returned to hers. "See you around."
In your dreams. Naughty girl pouted. "Yeah, sure." There was nothing cordial or welcoming in her words.
Rickie turned and waved over his shoulder. "I'm moving into an apartment over there above the Gap. Fourth floor."
Fuck!
"You live there around here, don't you? I've seen you about quite a lot. Maybe you can invite me over sometime cucumber girl."
Fuck me! A bonfire ignited inside. Naughty girl kissed the porthole through which she adored Rickie. She gave it quite a lot of tongue but nice girl exploded in rage. Fury tensioning every sinew, Monica marched away without looking back.
By the time Monica was back in her apartment and cleaned up, nice girl's bitch rage had run its course, locked naughty girl in a cage and set a guard. Now, with time on her hands, nice girl began to nervously tug at a pigtail. She kept checking the door locks as if expecting a rapist to break through. After the fourth or fifth time, Monica ran trembling hands through her hair.
Well, shit. Now what? Monica glanced at the clock. It wasn't even seven on a Friday night. She'd usually go read a book in the quad, chat with Lina, maybe do some half ass flirting with a cute guy.
But there was no fucking way she was sitting in the floor's common area. Not now that Rickie might look for her there. God, he's probably telling everybody what a fool she'd made of me. Despair's aching maw opened in her breast.
No! She wasn't going to cry. Monica was through with tears. She attacked the counter with a washrag. The floors with a mop. Her couches, the toilets, the shower, anything and everything. With it still only a little past eight on a Friday night she began pre-cooking next week's meals. Completing that, she rooted in the frig to make a cucumber salad for tomorrow's lunch.
The moment her fingers touched the green, phallic vegetable, a candle wick heat blossomed in her core. Rickie wanted to watch her eat one.
Well, that's just great. She lay the vegetable upon her cutting board. I'll just have to invite the asshole for over for lunch. Maybe he'd like watching me dice one!
The teen-dream, jock-wet-dream naughty girl so recently thrown in the brig, fondled her sexy new collar.
Monica froze, her knife hovering over the cucumber. Oh holey fuck. Naughty girl grinned. Inexplicably, Rickie stood there, in the brig, patting naughty girl on the head like she was his favorite pet. No, no, no. No. Oh fuck, NO!
She chopped three green ringed slices. The phallus was still more than ten inches long. She raised her knife. Her hand holding the vegetable trembled. She couldn't wipe naughty girl's smile from her mind.
Oh fuck. The knife in her hand rattled against the countertop as she lay it down. Oh God. I can't. Fuck. I'm not going to do this. Seven-year-old Monica was crying. No. No. No.
Shit! Her breath cycled hard, rocking her meager breast. Fuck. The button fly of her jeans momentarily foiled Monica's trembling fingers. A whimpered growl, as though naughty girl and nice girl were both trying to speak at once, forced its way from Monica's throat. An inflamed will overcame all obstacles to wrest her jeans midway down her thigh.
Upon its first touch upon her naked flesh, the refrigerator chilled phallus should've doused her desire. Instead it nearly unhinged her. She caught herself on the edge of the counter even as the too big vegetable caught in the mouth of her sex. Inexplicably her core pushed at it, and while smaller than the head of a newborn it was still far larger than any man. It burned as it began to slide inside.
"Ooooh . . ." Every finger width of penetration drove Monica's mouth wider. Pain banded her thighs where denim bit into her stressed flesh.
The crotch of her jeans rent in two. She slammed breast to counter with the arm appended by cucumber pinned beneath her. The green phallus drove deep.
The collision with her womb had Monica clawing at the counter. She tried to yank the vegetable out but her fingers found no purchase upon its suddenly slick skin. Naughty girl screamed that it would get better and the seven-year-old fled the bridge for some dark corner to bawl in terror.
"Oh fuck." Monica pushed her forehead into the counter and panted. The muscles of her core rolled as though trying to feel out the invader and decide whether it felt good or not.
Oh God. It did. "Oh fuck." Her love button was out, whether from overexcitement or the overstuffing of her core, it didn't matter. It sparked against her pinned wrist. The peaks of her meager peaks stiffened. "F . . . uck."
Monica's convulsion pushed the slick vegetable out far enough she could grasp it. She pulled.
And her core clenched. "Oh God. Oh God. Oh God." Her knees rattled against the cabinets. An empty ache blossomed in the waked of the retreating mass.
"Oh God." Shit! Her hand trembled. Naughty girl was on her knees begging.
Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.
Oh God, fuck, why not? It's not like this can get any more wrong. At least not without Rickie here watching me. She pushed the green dildo back in.
And went up on her toes. Oh, fuckin' GaAaAawd! She panted. Her knees quaked. Her free hand clutched at the far edge of the counter.
Another stroke. "Oh shit!" Her grip on the counter slipped. She caught herself by her finger nails.
Out. "OoOoOoOoOoh-" In. "-fuck!"
She exploded. Light of every color and none swallowed her mind. Nerves overloaded and she slipped from the counter. A sharp pain in her elbow, when it stuck linoleum, triggered hyperventilation as she writhed upon the floor as she birthed a vegetable.
Sanity returned. In the brig of her soul-ship, Monica's naughty girl lay panting upon the floor of her cell even though the door was wide open and unguarded. In the real word, Monica picked herself off the linoleum.
"Eew. God. Gross." She made a face and held her hands away from her. They, her ass, her thighs, her torn jeans and much of the floor were covered in juiced cucumber and whatever that ungodly snot girls exuded when in heat. Inexplicably, candy-sweet, seven-year-old, nice girl, naughty girl and Monica all started crying at once.
Hours later, swaddled in warm flannels and curled in her bed, nice girl and Monica still sniffled. Naughty girl, locked up once more, was in a pleasant daze and kept sending warm, fuzzy signals every time she felt a twinge from her bruised uterus.
This went on for hours. At some point, Monica fell asleep. Morning warmth woke her.
What? She blinked at the unaccustomed sun shining upon her face. She pawed at her alarm clock.
Shit. She dropped back to her pillows. It was seven.
A banging sounded. It was not the first time her sub-conscious had heard it.
The door. Lina. She sat bolt upright. Shit, Lina!
She tripped from bed and stumbled to the apartment door. Naughty girl graced Monica with a sleepy smile from behind her bars at the not entirely unpleasant strain between her legs. Nice girl ignored them both.
Monica cracked the door to the chain stop. "Yes?"
"Hey girlfriend, where were you last night? Did I wake you up? You missed yoga class. You've got to meet the new guy on the floor. He's hot. Dibbs, by the way. Well, dibbs if I didn't already have the hottest hunk in the world."
"Rickie, right?" Monica unchained the door.
Lina's face glowed brighter than her hair. "Oh, you've met him." Her expression changed when she got a better look at her bedraggled friend. "Hey, what's up with you? I thought you were done crying over what's-his-face, asshole that dumped you dude."
Monica led Lina into the apartment. "I am. I wasn't. I'm not." She raked a hand through her bed head hair. "Whatever. I was not crying over Jason."
"Who was he?"
"Does it have to be a man?"
"When you look like this? Yes. Who was he?"
"Not now, Lina."
"It was Rickie! Did he fuck you?"
Really? Monica closed her eyes and cussed women's intuition. Are you for real? When she opened them, Lina stood, hands on hips, directly in front of her. Her make naughty girl jealous boobs were staring Monica in the face.
"Did. He. Fuck. You?"
Monica turned away from the disturbing sight. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he did."
"You mean you don't remember?"
If only you knew. "No, I'm pretty sure I got fucked right here." She pointed to her skull. "And right here." She placed a hand over her left breast. She cycled a breath. "And yes, maybe here too," she said, indicating her womb. "I'm pretty sure I hate him." Nice girl nodded her head. Naughty girl shook hers. A flood began to build behind Monica's eyes.
Lina stepped in to hug Monica. "Oh honey-"
A knock on the door interrupted Lina. Not latched, it swung open. Rickie strode in.
Lina stepped in front of Monica and gave Rickie her best what-the-fuck-did-you-do-to-my-friend glare.
Rick threw up his hands. "Hey, I was just coming to check if cucumber girl was okay."
Monica's eyes glazed over and her core rocked. Naughty girl dropped to her knees panting. Nice girl shook her head and walked away.
Too intuitive Lina looked from Rick to Monica. "Cucumber girl?"
Rickie chuckled. "Her favorite diet food."
"Weird."
"What? Should I call her something completely unoriginal like babe? Like, if I say, 'hey babe, lets fuck'-"
Lina's expression indicated her jackass detector had just gone off.
"-every girl in the room might go into heat. But if I say cucumber girl-"
Oh holey fuck! A flesh quake rocked Monica's thighs. Naughty girl teetered and fell writhing upon the floor of the brig.
"-everyone will know I'm talking just to Monica."
Lina stared at Rick, her eyes bigger than her boobs. Finally she turned to Monica. "You want me to get rid of this ass?"
If only you could. "Lina, can you give us a moment? Please."
Lina pointed at her and then Rick and back at Monica again. She shook her head. "Whatever, girlfriend. Be outside if you need me."
"Thanks."
Lina left still glancing from Monica to Rick and back again. Meanwhile, naughty girl picked herself up off the floor and pressed herself against the bars of her cage. Even confined, she wanted be as close to Rickie as possible.
When the door shut, Rickie obliged. He stepped right up to Monica. His gaze pinned her. His eyes looking down through the windows of her soul to the caged slattern trapped within. Naughty girl preened her dark tresses.
Her hair! Oh shit! Monica put a hand to her tangles. "Could you - uh - maybe come back later? After I've cleaned up."
"Yeah, sure, cucumber girl-"
Monica grabbed his shirt to keep from falling over. He continued as though nothing had happened.
"-I'd love to. But this can't wait. It'll only take a moment. I brought you a gift." He flipped open a small box. Within, two heavy glass balls nestled upon a bed of faux silk. "I thought your vegetable love might leave a few stretch marks. Keep these inside for a few weeks and you'll be the tightest chick this side of a strip joint."
Monica closed her eyes. Naughty girl ground against her bars. Holey fuckin' shit. There was no point resisting. Naughty girl didn't need no collar to do whatever Rickie said. Monica heaved a heavy breath and reached for the box.
Rickie swung the balls out of reach. "Oh no you don't, cucumber girl, they're my gift to you."
"Oh gaaawd! Monica clutched his shirt and buried her face in his shoulder while she trembled. Naughty girl dry humped a brass pole.
Rickie waited for her spasm to pass. When she disentangled herself, he said, "Take them off."
Monica shook her head. Naughty girl nodded vigorously.
"Take them off, don't make me say it again. It might kill you."
With trembling fingers Monica hooked the elastic of her pajama pants baring her wet bikini briefs.
"You should really be wearing a thong, something all lacy, unless, you know, it's that time the month."
Auto-response. "They're not practical." The words were out of her mouth before she could think.
"Then perhaps gee-strings, micro-scrunches?"
Monica's breast heaved. "Oh fuck!"
"Yeah, gee-strings, scrunches, the really small ones, maybe cage panties. Nothing like stripper wear to make a woman exude her fuck me vibe all the time. It'd be better if you wore heels too."
"Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit." Naughty girl pranced about her cell in her new gold, see-through, barely there underwear.
"I see you like the idea." He stepped close, pinned her shoulders and grabbed her hair. He forced her gaze up to his. He rolled the glass balls in his free hand. "I want to watch this."
Naughty girl began to writhe against the cell bars once more.
Ricky pulled Monica's night-shirt up and ran a ball down her belly. Monica, her gaze trapped, began to pant. His hand slipped inside her panties but stopped the orb right on her love button.
"You need to shave, no wax, cucumber girl. Betty yet, laser it off."
"Oh God. FuUuUuUuck!" She ground her pearl against the marble. "Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck." She rose up on her toes trying to slip it, or his fingers, or both inside. "Please!"
"Please what, cucumber girl?"
Her mouth opened. Aching need swallowed Monica whole. Every muscle in her body spasmed. Naughty girl passed out on the floor of her cell. Rickie slipped first one and the other glass weight within her volcanic core. He stepped back. His shirt in her fist was the only thing that keeping her upright and she fell forward following him.
The door having busted wide open, naughty girl crawled from the brig and pulled herself to the helm of Monica's soul. "Fuck me," Monica said. "God dam-it Rickie. Just stop this and fuck me already."
He gently pried her fingers from his shirt. "Not yet," he said.
Fuckin' what? Naughty girl threw herself at the windshield. She plastered her body all over that barrier between the imaginary and real that kept her from her new sex god.
"You're a really nice girl, Monica. I'm don't want to be a jerk an all, but I've got a job to do. I wish - nevermind." He shut the apartment door gently behind him.
Monica fell to her knees. The marbles rolled around inside of herself. She automatically clenched when one tried to spit free.
Oh hell. She hung her head. What the fuck had just happened?
No answer came. Was she really that undesirable, that, that ugly? No man, not in her experience, could have resisted that much raw, helpless need. The Pope would've fucked her.
In a daze she picked herself off the floor, showered and dressed. Nice girl didn't even try to take the helm. Nor did she complain when naughty girl had Monica put on the one gee-string she owned, the one that had been intended for her marital evening. Monica summoned nice girl to dress the rest of her, made an appointment at Nails & Other Bits and went shopping. Enough fuckin' gee-strings to get her from one wash to another was going to put a hole in her checking account.
By the time she returned to her apartment that evening, her thighs hurt. She rarely spent a whole day in platform pumps.
And that was not her only pain. Hair-pull burn stung her crotch and naughty girl kept shoving them devil balls back in every time one slipped out. She'd never obeyed nice girl, why was she obeying Rickie. Her obedience was giving Monica cramps and it wasn't even that shit time of month.
And one of them balls had slipped down her pant-leg while at the cashier's in Fredrick's & Hollywood. The guy in line behind her had retrieved it for her. His shocked expression when he handed it back said he knew exactly what the slime coating was.
The wash of emotions set Monica's sugar-sweet, seven-year-old to crying and hiding again. Without nice girl at the helm, naughty girl kept trying to shoot everything with a dick come hither looks. Rickie had been right. The effin' gee-string had her broadcasting so loud, some jackass got slapped by his wife and more than one woman's eyes screamed slut when Monica dared to meet their gaze.
What a day. She dropped everything in the middle of the floor. She fell into her couch without unpack anything and kicked off her fuckin' pumps. Naughty girl, collard or not, was not going to keep those torcher devices on her feet. Not in her own home, even if the slattern did keep pushing those horrible balls back in every time they slipped.
God, how many people had seen her stutter step, shimmy and poke at herself trying to keep the things sucked up? She rolled her head back and pushed her palms into her eyes.
A knock sounded at the door. Grabbing her crotch, so the devil balls wouldn't slip out, she forced herself to her feet.
"Hey girlfriend." Lina pushed into her apartment when Monica opened the door. "I haven't seen you all day. You look like shit."
"Thank you," Monica said and plodded back to the couch.
"I know-" There was a long pause as Lina took in the brazen pink bag sitting like a princess amongst the Monica's groceries and other necessities. "I know what will make you all better."
"Not Tippers."
"Tippers! Tobey, Derik, Heather, Lara and I are all going. Rickie will be there."
"Then I'm definitely not going." She plopped in her seat and both balls bounced out. She wasn't wearing enough panties to catch them but at least her jeans concealed the evidence.
"Oh come on," Lina said. She tugged Monica's arm. "I saw you with Rick. You want him."
"I do not!" Naughty girl Willy Vanillied liar, liar pants on fire.
"Yes you do. Come on. It'll be fun."
"I asked him to fuck me. He said, 'No.'"
Lina's mouth dropped open. "You what?"
"You heard me."
"Okay, girlfriend, what have I told you about kissin' on the first date."
"We haven't even been on a date!"
"Well, now's your chance."
"What part of he. said. no. do you not understand?"
"The part where you didn't even try to seduce him, girlfriend. Give it time!"
"Lina, I don't want to go."
"Oh, you're going." Lina grabbed Monica's hand and yanked her to her feet.
"Lina!" She clamped her legs against the balls rolling down her thighs. "Fine." She duck waddled to the bathroom. "Give me a moment."
Safely readjusted, with a vice like grip on the balls, she came back out and rooted in her closet for a pair of flats. Naughty girl planted a hand on her lace framed hip and pointed at her pumps.
Really? Monica whined at the succubus. Naughty girl nodded. Well, fuck me. Naughty girl nodded eagerly. Since nice girl wasn't present to argue otherwise, Monica slipped the devil devices back on her feet.
"Oh, your shoes! They're perfect!"
Monica followed her friend out the door and locked up her apartment. "You want to wear them?"
"Can I? Tomorrow I mean? Tobey and I are going to the Grand American for dinner. They'd be so hot with that black dress I bought last month."
Monica looked at her pumps. Lina was probably right.
That didn't make them any more fun following Lina to the elevator. As they passed through the common room Yale's eyes followed them. Normally his eyes would have been glued to Lina's ass. Today naughty girl basked in the masculine, no matter how unfuckably nerdy it might've been, attention. A roseate burn toasted Monica's cheeks.
"Well, that was interesting," Lina said after the elevator doors closed. "You look good, girlfriend."
"Yeah. I keep getting that today."
"I'm sure Rickie will notice."
"I don't want Rickie to notice."
"Naughty, naughty, naughty. You shouldn't tell your bestie fibs."
"I thought you said the boys were coming."
"They're already there. And it's not all of them. Just the hunks. That's why Yale was back there."
"Really? How many drinks did you have before you came to get me?"
"Just one."
Monica rolled her eyes.
Tippers was just a short walk past Gap towards the fountain. The boys were seated outside. Monica felt every pair of male eyes as they passed through the restaurant proper. Naughty girl strutted.
Monica leaned close to Lina's ear. "I thought blonds were supposed to have more fun.
"It's nice sharing the attention for once. You should tap into your whole look-at-me-I'm-sexy vibe more often. God knows you'd knock them dead. Look at them."
"Yeah. I'm not sure I'm going to be given a choice."
Lina glanced at Monica strangely but they had reached the boy's table. Rickie rose to his feet and pulled out a chair for Monica. Tobey scrambled to do the same for Lina.
Heather elbowed Derik. "See, they're real gentlemen."
Derik snorted and quaffed his beer. "Gentlemen don't get laid."
"Oh, I don't know," Heather replied, "Pretty sure she's getting plowed tonight," but it was under her breath and Derik didn't hear.
Rick waved down a passing waiter. "What'll you have, cucumber?"
Naughty girl's attention riveted on Rickie. Monica tensed and certain bits stood to attention but the second word of the trigger was not forthcoming.
"A lemon drop." She had to say it twice to be heard.
"A lemon drop for the lady, please."
When it arrived, Monica nursed it. Lina managed three for Monica's one and Monica chased hers with a water. Eventually, Derik and Heather drifted away. Lara left shortly thereafter. A drink, maybe two, thereafter, Lina fell out of her chair.
"Oh my God!" She knocked her chair over trying to climb back up. She laughed so much harder than a simple giggle. "Help me-" She snorted so hard tears leaked from her eyes. "-I can't get up."
Tobey and Monica leapt Lina's aid. Monica lost a marble in the scuffle. Rickie shot her a wink and pocketed it before anyone else took note.
"Well, shit. She's drunk off her ass," Tobey said. "How many drinks did you have?"
Lina hit her breast. "Moi?"
"Yes, Moi. Who'd you think I meant?"
Lina chewed her lip like a pencil. "Four." She staggered a step. "No - no. It was five!" A heartbeat later she said, "Six?"
"Six. Fuck Lina! What's up with you? You never used to be like this?"
"Yeah." Lina went all dreamy. "Let's fuck."
"Lina!" Tobey and Monica both exclaimed. "You're wasted," Tobey added.
"I'll take her home," Monica said.
"That's okay. You stay here." He nodded at Rickie. "I'll get her in bed."
Monica's naughty girl smiled.
"No, I think-"
"I'll get her in bed. I'm not bedding her. Not like this. God, Monica, what's gotten into her? Since a month or so before you broke up with Jason, every time we all go out she gets plastered."
"We'll all go," Rickie said before Monica could respond to the kicked puppy-dog expression that washed over Tobey's face. "I'll get the check."
Tobey and Monica helped Lina stager out. Rick caught up as they maneuvered the drunk girl onto their elevator.
"God dam-it." Tobey punched the button to their floor. "Tonight was supposed to be special."
"We can still fuck."
"No, Lina, we can't."
Lina pouted but then her expression suddenly cleared. "You can do Monica."
"What?" Tobey's exclamation was a staccato bark. Monica's was more of a screech.
"That's an excellent idea, Lina," Rick said. The blood drained from Monica's face. "What do you say, cucumber girl?"
Monica staggered. She dropped Lina and caught herself upon the handrail circling the elevator cab. She panted, her core groped the remaining ball inside her. Naughty girl waltzed up to the placard engraved with the names of all the men she'd like to do and licked the new name appended there. That tongue might as well have run over Monica's clit.
Oh God, noooo. She shuddered. Fuck! "God dam-it, Rick! He's her boyfriend! My best friend's boyfriend!" Boyfriend came out as a near sheik.
"It was her idea."
"She's drunk!"
"What's going on?" Tobey said.
Lina staggered first one way and then the other. A goofy grin split her face. "Monica's got the hots for you bad boy."
"Maybe she's angling for a threesome," Rick said.
"She couldn't get it on if her life depended on it." Monica snapped, and you know it. "She's going to pass-out the moment she hits her bed."
"I dare you. I double dog swimsuit Barbie dare you."
Lina had been looking at Monica but Tobey answer. "No way. Lina, I'm yours."
"Awe." Lina turned, tripped, grabbed Tobey's shirt and planted her face in his navel. She climbed his chest back to her feet. "Look at her ass. Don't you want to bend that over and plow it? I know you do."
Monica hid her face in her hands while naughty girl bent over to touch her toes like it was already a done deal. The brief spark she'd caught in Tobey's eye told her Lina had painted a lude picture in his mind as well.
The cab came to a halt and the elevator doors opened. Tobey scooped Lina off her feet. Lina's head lolled over backwards as she was carried from the car and looked right in Monica's eyes.
"Monica's going to get fucked. Monica's going to get fucked."
Every eye followed Lina as Tobey carried her across the populated common-room to her apartment. The communal gaze turned on Monica the moment the door closed behind them.
"You're going to want this." Rick dropped the missing marble in her hand. He leaned into her ear. "I won't make you drop your pants out here."
"Turn it off. Please just-" Her meager breasts heaved. "-turn it off."
"It doesn't work like that."
"Try."
Several heartbeats cycled by. "No."
"No, you won't or, no, you can't."
"Does it matter?"
"I guess not."
Stares trailing her every step, Monica strode to her room. Her door banged shut and she collapsed upon it. Despite her despair, or perhaps because of it, who the fuck knew anymore, naughty girl was doing yoga. Downward facing dog. Camel pose. Cat. There were countless fuck me poses in yoga when one was wearing a gee-string.
God no. Please no. He's Lina's boyfriend. Practically her lovey, dovey fiancé. Tobey had been asking her, Monica, for ring advice and she was going to fuck him! Monica began to cry.
No. No. Only if he made a pass. If he didn't try, she'd be able to resist. Tobey was a good man, a real farm-boy, it wouldn't happen.
Hope dried Monica's tears. Tobey and Lina were going to the Grand American. You didn't get in there without a black tie or nice dress. By tomorrow he'd forget all about Lina's offer. All she had to do was make herself scarce.
Which meant, not being here. Tobey was sure to be over soon for some sisterly advice. Lina's drinking thing had made him upset.
Okay, fuck, where to go? There was a Hyatt at the north end of the mall. But-
Her checkbook was effin' empty. Fuck-me panties cost a lot of money.
Okay, girl, just don't answer the door. Monica caught a glimpse of naughty girl's knowing smile. Yeah. No. So?
Just get out and stay out. She only had to dodge him for an hour or so before he'd give up and go to bed. She grabbed her laundry, piled on her new day-to-day, she'd prefer to wash it before wearing it lingerie collection on top and headed out the door. He wouldn't look for her in the laundromat, not on a Saturday night, she hoped.
The gaze of a half-dozen floor tenants greeted her as she left her apartment but Rickie and, thank God, Tobey weren't present. Most immediately lost interest and went back to the television, game or girl. Only Yale's gaze groped her ass all the way to the laundromat.
A cool swell of relief welled up within Monica as she slipped into the relative safety of the floor's dorm style laundry room without Tobey emerging from Lina' room. Only one machine was running so she claimed four; whites, colors, delicates and extra-delicates.
"Monica?"
The last door closed with a clunk. Water sploshed and the machine wound up with a space-age whine.
"Monica?"
"Yeah-" She stood and rubbed her back. She turned about. "Shit!" She leapt backward and slammed the washing-machine with her ass. The solo ball still rolling about within her bounced. "Fuck." She stumbled in her pumps and nearly fell.
Tobey caught her. Her heart began to gallop. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Her core went all chocolate fondue gooey.
Tobey pushed her back onto her feet. Naughty girl leaned in for a kiss and nearly fell over. Monica staggered.
"Careful." Tobey caught her shoulder. "You okay?"
Fuck, no! How can you ask that? A teapot scream pressured up her breast.
Tobey turned a shoulder and scuffed the floor with a toe. "I'm really sorry 'bout all that. About - I mean - well - Lina."
"It's okay." Her voice was pinched. Just effin' go away! Tears stung nice girl's eyes as naughty girl offered up a lewd pose.
"Not about the alcohol - well, that too - but what she said."
Monica couldn't help it. They'd been friends for two years. Her heart went out to Tobey. She placed a trembling hand upon his shoulder. His gaze rose to hers.
Eros' arrow plunged into her core. Naughty girl rocked. Monica's thighs quivered.
"I mean, why would she say that?"
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Monica couldn't tear her eyes away. She took a small step closer to Lina's man. "She-" A spasm stole her voice. She could feel the heat radiating off his chest. His flat, broad, chest. "She was drunk." The words were strangled.
"Do you think-"
"No!" Monica just about screamed. Naughty girl had found a brass pole to slide down. Monica butted her face against Tobey's chest. She tried to push away but her hands refused to obey. They merely trembled against the hard flesh of his pecks.
"You sure you're okay?"
"No." The word was a sob.
Tobey's farm-boy arms encircled her. The thunder of his heart picked up its pace.
"I can't get what she said out of my head."
Nice girl fled. Naughty girl sashayed around her pole. Monica pressed herself tighter to Tobey and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Can you?"
"No." The word was a whimper. The hot aching need Rickie had awakened and now controlled gnawed at her.
"We should-"
Tobey stiffened as naughty girl ground Monica's core against his leg.
No, fuck, no. There was no force in the thought. Naughty girl smiled at her.
"Monica?" Tobey pushed her chin up such that their gazes tangled. His eyes dilated. His other hand ran up her back and tangled in her hair.
Monica's breast heaved and naughty girl swooned. Tobey pushed her back a step.
"We shouldn't."
"No." She shook her head.
"I . . . Do you feel it?"
A shiver squeaked up out of Monica's breast and she whimpered.
"Tell me you feel it?"
"I do," she said in a small voice and nodded. His fist tightened in her hair.
"We should stop."
"We should." Naughty girl started grinding the pole. Monica shivered.
"We're not going to, are we?"
"N - n - no."
"Holey fuck." Tobey utterance was a breathy whisper.
A paralytic ache stole Monica's will. Tobey nudged her back a step and pushed her ass right against the rumbling washing-machine. Vibration pushed right through her and set the ball within to jumping.
Naughty girl and Monica gasped in unison. Oh God. Oh fuck. Oh God. Tobey ratcheted her head back. Monica's breasts heaved. His lips met hers. She moaned. He crushed her, lips, tongue, breast, thighs to himself.
Naughty girl went insane. All control went out the window. Her nerves went haywire and overloaded. She touched him everywhere. Her fingers tangled in his hair. Her free hand grasped at anything trying to maintain an anchor on reality but there was no strength, she kept losing her grip as senses overflowed again and again and again.
Tobey shoved her up on the vibrating machine. Monica's hands tore at his belt and he at hers. He pulled back a step peeling her denim skin from her thighs.
Tobey froze. "Holey fuck." His eyes grew wide.
"What?" Panic poisoned her voice.
Tobey's thumps hooked under the straps of her gee-string thong. He fingered the lace garment. "This? You're wearing this? A virgin fuck-me thong? Holey fuckin' hell, Monica. You're so hot!"
"Oh shit." She fell back on her elbows and pivoted her hips.
He stripped her wanton flesh. "Oh. My. God." Tobey lay his hand on her belly and stroked down over her naked heat. For long seconds he held her there, his wonder feeding her ache.
"Shit-" She ground her heat up in his hand. "F-f-f-fuUuUuk me."
His hand still pressing her need, Tobey yanked at his fly. Buttons popped lose. He tore down his boxer briefs. His swollen meat fell loose.
Mesmerized, naughty girl reached for the stiff tool. Monica's finger touched Tobey's pulsing finger.
It leapt.
"Shit! Fuck Monica! I can't hold on." Tobey grabbed her hips and yanked her towards him. Monica fell backward. Her ass slapped against his thighs and his dick ran up her crease.
Monica's love bud sparkled. "Uhg!" Her breast heaved and the air burnt her lungs.
Tobey pulled back, his hot rod dragging slowly across her pearl. Neural jolts shivered her thighs. His head came to rest in her juncture. He pushed.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. GaAaAawd! Monica pushed up on her elbows. Her hips pivoted desperate to meet his slow drive. "God." Her breast heaved. The ball rolled with his shaft. "Tobey!"
"Fuck. Monica. What the hell?"
"No, no, no. No. No! Don't stop. Don't stop. Tobey!"
Tobey pistoned back and slammed into her.
"GaAaAaAawd!" Her core powered down with a vice grip.
He pulled free. The ball rolled.
"FfFfFfuck." She sobbed her breaths. The world spun down tighter and tighter into the black hole of her need. Tobey's hot rod heat fed her, spiraling her higher.
She lost control. Her elbows fell from under her. Head and shoulder cracked upon the top of the vibrating washing-machine. Her thigh's locked about the heavenly invader. She exploded.
Tobey kept cycling. His rod packed more and more powder within her keg. Her love button sparked with every crashing thrust. Fireworks erupted along every never.
"Tobey. God. Tobey. Tooobey!"
A thunderclap thrust. Lava poured into her. The black hole of her need went nova and seizure slammed naughty girl to the floor. Kaleidoscope color swallowed Monica's mind.
***
"Uhg . . ." Monica slid bonelessly from the washing-machine. The slimed marble clacked against the floor and rolled away.
Tobey caught her. His flaccid member trailed cooled slime up her belly. "I got you."
Monica clung to his shirt.
"I got you." He stroked her pony-tail.
Terrible, aching hurt clawed at Monica's breast. "I-" Nice girl rocked in a corner and began to cry. "-Lina."
Tobey tensed. She could feel the guilt withering his flesh.
"Yes, Lina."
Monica and Tobey leapt away from eachother. Tobey fumbled with his pants.
"This is about Lina," Rickie said. "Lina and Jason."
Hot, stabbing, fire fury roared in Monica's ears. "You!" She launched herself at him, claws arrowing for his face.
"Cucumber girl."
A hormonal tidal-wave knocked her off course. She bounced off the wall and crashed to her knees.
Tobey planted himself between Monica and the monster in the door "What the fuck is going on?"
Rickie looked past him to Monica. "Remember what I said about helping guys get over breakups?"
Monica shook her head.
"After the hamburger. When I was telling you what I do."
Monica gave him a blank look. Rickie heaved a heavy breath.
"I help people get over breakups. I get them revenge."
"I don't understand." Fire burnt her breast. "How is this revenge?"
"Jason."
Monica clawed her way to her feet. "You - you ruined me! You made me fuck my best friend's man!" she screamed. Tears streamed from her eyes."
"No. Your best friend fucked your man."
Shock leached all thought. Tobey turned wolf moon white.
"Lina seduced Jason." Rickie looked to Tobey. "Why do you think she gets drunk every time you're supposed to have a special night? Especially if Monica's present."
"I . . ."
"She's guilty. She doesn't deserve you, just like Jason doesn't deserve Monica."
"But you - we . . ."
Rickie turned to leave. "We're through, Monica. You're free. Likely we'll never meet again, but if you'd listen to a sex therapists advice, keep fuckin' that man." He nodded towards Tobey. "You're both kind. You want to be faithful even when you know you can't. You're wholesome and true. You're right for eachother."
Monica's eyes slowly raised from the empty door to Tobey's face. Tobey met her gaze and it was like they were seeing eachother for the first time.
"What are we going to tell Lina?" Monica said, her voice small.
Tobey's folded Monica in his farm boy arms. Just rage painted his voice. "Fuck Lina."