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Seb and I burst out laughing, and Seb slaps the table. “Fuck me, man, this is the best story ever.”
Spence’s eyes widen. “It isn’t over yet. Let me tell you, that Viagra kicked back in and I regained my super-human strength again, but I can’t come.”
We both lean forward, waiting to hear how this ends.
“I’m fucking and fucking and fucking, and I can’t come.” He sips his beer. “My dick has literally got no skin left on it, burning like a motherfucker. Now I really am almost crying.”
Seb and I are laughing out loud as we imagine our stupid friend fucking with a sore dick.
“What did you do?” Seb gasps for air, trying to regain control.
“I did what I had to do.”
I frown. “What’s that?”
“I faked it.”
“You faked it?” I gasp.
He nods and sips his drink. “Yep.”
The table falls silent. None of us has ever faked it before. I wouldn't know how to.
“Then Marie calls me today. She says the other night was fun and could we do it again tonight. She wants Ricky to join us, too.”
We all lean closer to him, waiting to hear his response.
“I told her I was out of town.”
Seb’s face twists in disgust.
“Why would you do that?” I frown.
“Because I have no skin left on my fucking dick, man. I need a skin graft. It is literally grazed like a third-degree burn.” He shakes his head and we all burst out laughing. “If I wasn’t circumcised already, I would have been after that.”
I wince. “Who is this chick with the iron snatch?”
Seb chuckles. “My new drug dealer.”
Brielle
It’s 9:30 p.m. and the walk up the hall toward the main house feels long. I’ve been watching from my darkened spot in the glass hallway for the last fifteen minutes. Mr. Masters is still in his suit, obviously unable to relax until this meeting is over.
Not a good sign.
I walk up the six stairs and around the corridor until I come into his view. He’s in the kitchen, filling his thick glass tumbler with ice.
“Hello.” I smile meekly.
He turns to face me. “Hello.” He gestures to the stool at the island bench. “Please, sit down.”
I slink into the chair and watch as he pours scotch over his ice, and then takes a seat opposite me.
He rolls his lips and takes a sip.
“Miss Brielle,” he sighs.
“Brelly,” I correct.
