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He pulls out the breathalyzer. “If you’re below point-zero-four, I’ll clear you for testing.”
Testing. Crap. I totally forgot about that. Do I want my alcohol to be low or high?
I blow into the gizmo.
“Good enough,” he says. “We can test—if you’re still up for it, that is.”
My cheeks turn redder than the Soviet flag. Can I back out of the testing now, after dragging us from the party under this pretext?
He might’ve been right earlier. I was drunk. How else to explain that bold invite?
I take a step back, frantically trying to think of ways to minimize the insanity of what’s about to happen. “We keep things professional.”
He steps toward me. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I’ll use the Kegel balls. This way, I keep my clothes on.” I feel like I just might fall through the floor as I say it.
He loosens his tie. “Is there a guy equivalent to those balls?”
“No. I mean, there’s the cock ring, but I imagine Dracula won’t fit inside your pants if—”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Dracula?”
I didn’t think I could redden more, but here we go.
Oh, well. Might as well fess up.
“I often nickname things.” I glance down at my chest. “I dubbed the girls Pinky and the Brain, if that makes your ego feel any better.”
He stares at Pinky and the Brain for a second too long, then raises his gaze back to my face. “You don’t look at Dracula, and I don’t look at you when you’re using the balls.” He takes off his glasses and puts them on a nearby table. “This way, I can’t see much anyway.”
I suppress a semi-hysterical giggle brought on by the phrase “using the balls.” “Where do we do this?” I ask.
“Follow me.” He leads me into his giant living room. “There.” He points at a twin of my suitcase. “Get what we need.”
I fish out the toys in question and hand him the cock ring, my face burning the entire time.
Must. Not. Think what Dracula would look like with that bling on.
As he takes the ring, our fingers brush, sending shivers down my body.
Perfect. Now I won’t need any lube for the Kegel balls.
“Where’s your bathroom?” Did that sound husky?
He points at a nearby door.
I lock myself in, take off my panties, and wash my hands and balls. The Kegel balls, that is. Thus far, no matter how ballsy I feel, I’ve never sprouted a pair, thank uterus.
Just in case, I lube up the balls and gently slide the first of the pair in, then the string that holds them together.
Feels pretty neutral so far.
Making sure to leave the removal loop out, I let the second ball join the first, and push them in as far as I’m comfortable with.
Hmm. This way, they feel tingly, and it’s not a big effort to keep them in.
I could probably walk around like this all day—which, of course, would be a bad idea. Vlad could then activate the vibration at any time, even if I’m at the DMV or the fish market, or at a meeting with Sandra.
