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“Why? She’s grown. She’s intelligent. She can do what the hell she likes.”
He shakes his head but meets my eyes, face grim with challenge. “But she has to be the one to suggest it.” The dude is always laying down the law like some frustrated parent.
“Or we could make a proposal,” I suggest. “A proposal?” Gabe says, mulling the idea.
“Saying it that way doesn’t make it romantic.” Russell shakes his head, and I wonder if he might end up being a thorn in my side. If he doesn’t want to get involved, that’s his business. The door is open, and the outside world waits for us all.
“I’ve got plenty of romance in me,” I say.
The sound of a throat clearing draws our attention to Allie, who’s halfway down the stairs. Shit. How much did she hear?
“Hand on heart, I didn’t expect to come down and hear you guys talking about romance,” she says, taking the final few steps.
Jimmy jumps up. “So, what did you come down for?”
“I left my phone down here,” she says, reaching for it.
It’s been sitting on the coffee table the whole time.
“Goodnight,” Allie says for the second time, and we all wave again. When she’s out of earshot, there’s a collective groan.
“Do you think it was still recording?” Stefan asks the question we were all thinking.
“I don't know,” I say, “but I guess we’re going to find out tomorrow.”
11
ALLIE
There’s a song on a loop in my head as I strip from my evening clothes, searching out my comfy pajama shorts and button up shirt.Ten purple vibrating cocks on the bed, ten purple vibrating cocks on the bed, take one down and pass it around, nine purple vibrating cocks on the bed.
I snigger but it’s only half amusement. The other half is nervous laughter because I've been trying to avoid studying the vibrators the men made in any kind of detail. To do so seems invasive, like I’m peeking into their bedrooms, finding them naked and staring at their cocks.
It’s ridiculous, of course. The whole point of doing this exercise is so I’ll be able to see what they’re actually talking about when they’re discussing their genitalia. Clever idea, Kirsty. In rubber, their cocks are completely inanimate.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
Just look at them.Stop being such a blushing virgin. There’s no one around to see.I pick up the nearest one, studying the thickness of it, the sheer heft of so much flesh. It has a wide flared head and as I try to wrap my fingers around it, I find that I can’t. Whoa…what the hell. How does someone walk around with something this big and unwieldy between their thighs? I thought running with boobs was a challenge. What do they do with this when they’re on the treadmill? Strap it to their thigh with duct tape?
I initially resist the urge to look at the initials, but as I stroke my hand down the length, imagining how hot to the touch it would feel in real life, I can’t resist anymore.
Russell.
Shit. I wasn’t expecting it to be his. There’s something so restrained about the man that this cock doesn’t really fit with him. This cock is so big and weighty that it seems out of control simply by existing. When they nicknamed him Snake, they got it wrong. They should have called him Baseball-Bat, or Club, or maybe Sex-Weapon-of-Doom-and-Ecstasyinstead!
I drop it on the bed as my cheeks begin to heat. Even pressing my cool hands to my flushed skin doesn’t reduce the flame I feel across my whole face. It’s ridiculous that I’m so embarrassed by looking at cock replicas while alone. How would I ever face seeing these in real life with real men attached to them? I’d be a sweating, trembling tomato!
The next one I pick up isn’t quite as thick but it’s still big enough to make my eyes water and my legs weak. I perch on the side of the bed, twisting my body so that I can review each of the vibrators in detail and by the time I’ve put a cock to a name for each of the men downstairs, my panties are shamefully wet.
Embarrassed at my own arousal, I gather the purple penises, resting them on my nightstand like a garish forest. I wash my face with cold water, ignoring the dilated pupils that have darkened my eyes so much they seem unfamiliar. I brush my teeth vigorously, trying to focus on mundane tasks rather than the men downstairs and their appendages.
This has been a good exercise.It’s important that I try to deal with the out-of-control parts of my brain and body in private. I’ll be more composed tomorrow. I’ll be able to hold it together in front of all the men and continue to gather the information I need to write the article.
I should wrap up some of the interview information from today but I’m too tired and more than a little restless. The distant rumble of male laughter emanates from downstairs, tickling up my spine and setting the hair on the back of my neck rising. When I turn off the light and slide into bed, the coolness of the sheets is a welcome relief, but my mind won’t stop turning over thoughts that make my internal temperature soar. My clit is swollen and aching to be rubbed in slow tight circles and I’m so restless that even tossing and turning doesn’t do anything to settle me.
I blow out a puff of frustrated breath at the fact that there are ten good looking men downstairs and ten vibrators on my nightstand, but relief is out of my grasp. I'm mostly frustrated that Dawn would never find herself in this situation. She goes for what she wants, with no regrets and not for the first time, I wish I was more like her.
You only live once. I remember when she told me about her tattoo, I was horrified. But I get her fascination with the phrase. I understand the fear that comes with feeling life is passing by and nothing exciting is happening.
