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57
Kris
“I can’t believe you bit me,” I mutter, checking my neck in the mirror in the restaurant waiting section. We may have been in the middle of some lazy lovemaking when Gillian called, and I may have answered without missing a stroke. Yeah-okay so no, mays I did it, and the massive chunk missing from my body is the reward for her latest orgasm.
“I did it, and if you ever do that again, I will take more than a bit of skin.”
“I should be happy it wasn't my coc-”
“Welcome to Mexicano, just two?” I’m stopped by the hostess’ arrival.
“We’re meeting-” I stop and wave, seeing the table filled with our crazy bunch. “Them.”
Taking Nicolette’s hand, we head on over to the corner booth. There’s already food on the table, and it looks like they are a few drinks in. So much for a sober trip.
“Why are you bleeding?” Blue asks with a chuckle.
“Oh, this? I got mauled by a rabid raccoon. Ouch!” I yelp as my boot is stomped by a stiletto.
Nicolette smirks, looking to her chair, which I promptly pull out. Leaning into her ear, I whisper gruffly as she sits. “Good girls get sugar, bad girls the whip.” I give her long ponytail a slight tug to make my point before kissing her cheek and taking my seat.
“Whip, huh?” She whispers in return, her hand squeezing my upper thigh under the table. “Good baby daddies, get the bed, bad baby daddies, the floor.”
“Either way, you’ll be on all fours,” I smirk, and she lets out a short snort. “That’s a good little filly.” I cannot hide my shit-eating grin. “So I know I’m starving,” I say to the table, which is filled with snickers and stares.
“We should have ordered popcorn.” Mariska shoves a nacho in her mouth as Nicolette looks over the menu, then her head tilts as we hear people laughing, cheering, and carrying on.
“They’re having a row.” She smiles as the waitress comes over. “Birthday?”
“Oh, that?” The girl chuckles. “It’s the latest craze. See, we have over two hundred different types of tamales, and every Wednesday, we hold a blind react contest for parties of four or more. If anyone at the table can get past La Lengua del diablo, then their entire order is comped.”
“La Lengua del diablo? The Devil’s Tongue? What is that?” Karn asks, looking awful excited.
The girl smirks. “It’s a level ten pork, chicken, and beef tamale, with our chef’s secret spices. They say that if you can take it down and not shed a tear, then the devil will never tempt you again.”
“I bet you all could handle it.” Camden looks at me and Nicolette. “With all that hot shit you eat, I’m surprised you even have a colon left.”
“Ah, I don’t know.” I back pedal, I may eat all that hot shit, but I certainly make sure to take my heartburn meds before, and I didn’t-tonight. I look at Nicolette, who smiles like a snake.
“If you’re not up to it. I mean, I get it. You are over thirty.”
“Ooh-” Comes from the whole table, followed by a few old man references.
“I’m not old. I’m perfectly seasoned.”
“Just like the tamales, so you in?” The way her body dances tells me she thinks she can best me.
“Anything you can do.” I sing-song. “What do we do?”
“Well, it’s pretty straightforward. We blindfold you and put a tray of tamales on the table. They all look alike, so there is no way of knowing if you are getting a La Lengua del diablo until it hits your tongue and you find the scorpion chile at its center. Since you can’t see it, one of us watches and records your reaction. If you cry, you lose.”
“Alrighty then, I suppose it’s on.” I look around and say a little prayer. “Just remember that if my tongue falls off, you did this.”
Nicolette shrugs. “I have fingers and BOB.”
***
Gurgle-gurgle.
