AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I yank the jeans back on, commando, and stick the still-vibrating underwear in the garbage can. My vision is a little white around the edges, but I still take a moment to grab some paper towels from the dispenser and drop them over the panties.
There. Hopefully, no one will notice, or if they do, they’ll think some male perv did this.
Wait. Have I just kink-shamed guys who like to throw away vibrating panties in the men’s room? Well, whatever. It’s hard to be politically correct with this little oxygen to the brain.
I dash out of the bathroom and suck in clean air with all the power in my lungs, my back pressed against the door for support.
When the whiteness around my vision dissipates, I realize someone is standing in front of me.
Art.
Those chocolate eyes are unmistakable.
He glances at the sign on the door that clearly indicates the men’s room. “Are you—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Even with the new air in my lungs, the sentence comes out breathless.
His eyebrows draw down. “But—”
“I mean it. I never, ever, want to talk about it.”
To my great relief, he doesn’t pursue it further. “Shall we go back to the table then?”
I nod.
He gestures for me to take the lead.
Blushing crimson, I turn in the direction of our table.
As I walk, my sex, still sensitive from the vibration, rubs against the rough material of the jeans, putting me at risk of an orgasm once again. Art’s proximity doesn’t help.
If I sprout gray hair—or gray pubes—this incident is to blame.
I keep my head low and my eyes away from the innocent children nearby. Once we reach the tatami room, I sit cross-legged and adjust my jeans to make sure that no part of the denim is, err, teasing the kitty.
When I look up, Art’s eyes are gleaming with amusement. Skunk. It must’ve looked like I was grabbing my crotch.
I clear my throat as he takes his seat across from me. “So…” I start awkwardly. I have no idea where we go from here, but thankfully, he comes to my rescue.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says.
Shit. This is hardly a better topic. What can I share without further embarrassing myself? Certainly nothing about my blog. Or my crush on him. Or—
“Don’t overthink it,” he says, accurately reading my panic. “For starters, tell me about your family.”
Family? That’s a landmine too. I take a deep breath. “How about some quid pro quo? If I tell you stuff, you have to tell me stuff.”
He cocks his head. “Do you think the informal name for British currency has anything to do with the ‘quid’ part of that expression?”
“I think it’s a Latin saying. I first came across it in The Silence of the Lambs.”
“What’s ‘The Silence of the Lambs?’”
I gape at him. “A movie. You know, ‘It rubs the lotion on its skin?’”
He looks at me like I might eat his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.
I roll my eyes. “When you get home, you have to watch it.”
