AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“But,” she counters, holding her finger out in front of her, something she often does when she’s thinking of her next move. “What if the guy didn’t know what we were planning to do with the video? I could go outside now and grab a hottie off the street, flash some cleavage and a smile, and get him to come up here and stand in front of me while I open my mouth in shock. That’s all it would take. You could film the entire thing.”
“Why don’t we just stick to you reading the article live on Facebook for right now and call it a day? I have to get in the shower and get ready to meet Tyler Kane for that charity event I told you about.”
“Fine.” She sticks her tongue out at me and grabs the handwritten article from my desk, before plopping down on my couch with her cell phone in hand. “You’re no fun anymore. All business and no pleasure.”
“My business is business, and your business is also your pleasure. There’s a huge difference between our work. Just be quiet over there and tape your video.”
Sydney nestles against the couch pillows and gets comfortable in the corner of the sofa, clearing her throat as she holds her phone in front of her. I turn around to close out the apps on my computer as she begins her introduction.
“Morning, Puck Bunnies!” She beams, her skin radiant even after a long night of drunken sex, a natural beauty who shines in front of the camera. I am a bumbling, awkward idiot in comparison to Sydney. There’s a reason I write sports articles instead of attempting sportscasting.
Sydney glances over at me with a wide grin as she looks into her camera.
I give her the thumbs up.
She continues, and I watch in awe of her ability to connect with our readers. I need more readership for my paper to keep it alive. And I could use her skills to do it.
Today, Kennedy and I have another edition of Measuring Sticks, a recurring feature on Long Sticks and Hard Shots where we ask our readers the age old question: Does size really matter?
You bet your ass it does. The evil grin on Sydney’s face as she says the words makes me laugh, forced to hold my hand over my mouth, so I don’t disrupt her reading.
One of our puck bunnies, Amanda from Michigan, sent us an email about a recent incident with a guy. After a few dates, Amanda decided to score with her man candy, only to find out his stick wasn’t all that. Her reaction to his stick is the reason for this post.
With that being said, how do you react when his stick ain’t all that? In our experience, seeing his stick for the first time is like unwrapping a Christmas present. You know that nervous anticipation that creeps up as people watch as you open the gift, secretly hoping Aunt Mary didn’t get you some hideous sweater you will have to pretend to like and hide in the back of your closet?
Well, the same goes for undressing your man. Whether you realize or not, your man is reading your facial expressions when he takes off his pants. He needs that thumbs up or a pat on the back he would get from his teammates to let him know the puck is in play and you’re fair game.
If you do what Amanda did and cover her mouth and laugh, which Kennedy and I think is hilarious, then your relationship with your man will end up offside. And who likes a stoppage of play? Definitely not your man. If he’s ready to tape his stick and you give him the slightest indication his equipment isn’t the shit, you will end up with a limp puck, and let’s face it, ladies, this isn’t football where balls deflate, and we like our pucks the way we like our men—hard.
Sydney finishes up and sets the paper on the coffee table, saying her good-byes. Eying up her screen, her mouth opens wide before she makes eye contact with me.
“Guess what, babe? We got over four hundred hits on this video already.”
Shocked, I get up from my chair and walk over to the couch, plopping down next to Sydney so I can see for myself. “I don’t believe it.”
She shows me the number of views and likes on the Facebook video, both of us surprised by how well it has done in such a short amount of time. “But how? We have over thirty thousand likes on our page, and we’re lucky if one hundred of them clicks like on the post.”
“It’s all the shares.” She points at the screen with her long, manicured nail, painted hot pink to match her shirt. “We had over a hundred shares already, and the numbers keep going up by the minute. “I guess I was meant to be a star after all,” she jokes, laughing.
“The last feature of Measuring Sticks had about half those numbers in forty-eight hours. This is crazy.” I tug at her shirt. “You have to record more videos.”
“I do them all the time for my books, and I get way more likes and shares than this, but for our blog…this could be huge. We need to think of our next topic right now.”
She grabs her coffee mug from the table and raises the ceramic to her lips to take a sip, staring into the bottom once she realizes she has emptied the last drop.
“Would you be a doll and get me another one?” Sydney hands me the mug with a pouty face, the same one she always gives me when she wants something and is too lazy to do it herself.
“Sure,” I mutter and take it from her hand, “but only because I need a refill.”
We have been inseparable since we were in middle school and she saved me from getting bullied by Ava Prince, heir to Prince Cosmetics and an all around bitch that tried to make my life miserable while I went the prep school my father had forced my sister and me to attend. But Sydney saved me from hell at the school, and we bonded over our mutual hatred of the nasty bitches who had made Regina George from Mean Girls look like a saint.
After I pour two cups of coffee and take my seat next to Sydney, we curl up together and go over our next blog post ideas.
She bites down on the bottom of her lip, mulling things over and staring up at the ceiling. “What if…” Her attention shifts back to me before she takes a sip from her mug. “What if we do a feature about running into your ex boyfriend?”
Her idea reminds me of a funny incident one of our readers had mentioned in the past, and the light bulb in my head goes off. “I have a better one,” I announce with pride. “Running into a one-night stand in public. Do you remember when Carrie from New York told us about her run in with that guy in a Starbucks?”
“Oh right.” She lifts one leg over the other, sitting cross-legged and shifting her weight to get comfortable. “We could start it off like this.” Taking one more
