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“Oh, yes. Fuck me in the ass. Stick your finger in there. Now fish hook your finger and tug.” I was literally dying as I read it. “Turner…what the hell?”
My eyes finally came to her, and she was blushing from the top of her shirt collar to the roots of her hair.
“It pays good money,” I said. “Like this one for example. This guy right here specifically requested me because of how fast I do it, as well as how I dot a little bit of humor into my subtitles. Though, saying that, he did request that I record myself while doing the subtitles. He does a bloopers reel at the end which he’s famous for.”
I shook my head. “Do you do anything besides type when you do these? What’s the harm in the video?”
She gave me a pointed look.
“My father is a professional NASCAR driver, Castiel. Do you really think that it’d be a good idea for my face to be seen at the end of a porn reel?” I asked curiously.
He winced. “I guess not. I didn’t think about it like that.”
She winked and leaned over to press pause again on the porn, freezing the frame on a guy’s cock poised for entrance into a woman’s pussy.
The words ‘Your cock head feels like it’s bigger than the bottom of a beer bottle’ were blasted in white all over the bottom of the screen.
“You want a drink?” Turner asked.
I looked at her over my shoulder and said, “Whatcha got?”
“Muscle milk, Slimfast, water and a beer that’s probably a year old,” she answered.
I felt a grin tugging up the corner of my lips. “Give the beer here. If I die, at least I’ll die from a beer.”
She placed the cool bottle in my hand, and I stared at the label.
“What kind of beer is this?” I asked curiously.
“I got my dad a beer subscription for his birthday last year. It’s imported from Belgium, Australia, Britain, and Germany. Those were the ones he didn’t like. He gave them to me to have for when my brother came over, except my brother didn’t like them either. Now they just sit in my fridge. When one gets drank, I pull another one out of the pantry and put it in there to replace it. I have an entire case,” she explained.
I twisted the cap off and peered into the dark bottle. Unfortunately, the brew was so dark that I couldn’t see it. But the smell was definitely potent.
“Why didn’t they like it?” I asked.
“My dad said that it was too dark and bitter. My brother said that it has a hint of cinnamon to it that he can’t stand,” she clarified.
I took a sip and my eyebrows rose at the taste.
It was definitely bitter. It was also the darkest brew that I’d ever tasted. But I kind of liked it.
“It’s not bad,” I said, taking another hesitant sip. “So how many people have come over here and tried one of these bad boys?”
She grabbed herself one of those baby water bottles that you’d buy at the store for kids and sat down on the sofa across from me.
“One,” she said. “My brother came over and tried it. Drank it all then declared he’d never drink one again because of the cinnamon. Though, I didn’t smell any cinnamon.”
I offered her the bottle. “Taste?”
She scrunched up her nose for a few seconds, then shrugged and reached for it.
After taking a sip, she immediately followed that sip with a disgusted face.
“No cinnamon,” she admitted. “But lots of other yuck.”
My lips twitched. “If you’re getting this brew imported, it’s going to be stout beer. But I get the feeling you’re not much of a beer drinker anyway.”
She shook her head.
“When I had my stomach surgery, they instructed me not to have any alcohol. The alcohol will affect me differently since I’ve had the surgery. The alcohol absorption is off the chain. It goes to the bloodstream hella fast. There was an article I read when I turned twenty-one. An adult male who’d had a single glass of champagne at a wedding reception two hours earlier was pulled over for being a .09 blood alcohol level. Off of one glass of champagne. The buddy who was in the car with him, who also had only one glass, was at a .001.” She shook her head as she finished. “Can you believe that?”
“I guess I hadn’t much thought about it before,” I admitted. “But I can also see how that would happen.”
“Anyway, I don’t often drink because I can’t drink the whole thing, so it’s a waste, and it’ll affect me a hell of a lot more and differently than it would a normal person,” she said. “Plus, I was too young to drink legally anyway. The only time I had any alcohol before my surgery, I had no tolerance. A few sips had me seeing doubles and stumbling.”
