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“They’re not orcs,” I huff, plopping down on the corner of the desk. “They’reVulgarians. They’re alien lovers who breed with humans for both species to survive.”
“This one’s my favorite so far.”
Jace calls out from his stool by the door, waving the tattered book in his hand, and I cringe. I love that hedevours my smutty science-fiction romance novels, but please. Cracking spines is a felony. His massive hands can’t help it, I guess.
“Thanks,” I muster my reply with a defeated smile. “That means a lot, Jace.”
Only in a sex shop would they not judge my side hustle. To the rest of Charleston, you should see the judgment when they ask me what I write, and I answer honestly.
Usually, I’m in the mood for it. I get a sick thrill. My default setting is shameless.
“I write about big blue aliens with gargantuan cocks fucking humans so they can survive.” I grin with glee when I explain my fictional world, “It takes ten aliens to breed with one human until the human is spilling with their magical alien milk.”
Dead silence is their usual reply. Followed by wide eyes, a nervous smile, and a tittering “that’s nice” before they can’t run away fast enough.
But lately, I’m exhausted.
I don’t like talking about my books. My dream is dying, so I don’t have the energy to open narrow minds.
I work all day at Delta’s to pay the bills, and I can’t complain. I love this job. I’m surprised I even got it because I dared to shamelessly proposition my boss’s men the first time I met them. I thought it was a marketing stunt — that Stacey Evans, the ex-wife of the disgraced criminal senator, is now in a public polycule with three hot men.
But no, it’s true and vaginal nirvana.
Stacey’s my heroine, my erotic employer who keeps my lights on because I’m losing hope. I always fight with my twin, but we love each other, and Vale knew I was in trouble, so she vouched for me and got me this job.
I’m so broke. I just need that big break. My books do okay, but alien page porn is rarely on the bestseller’s list.
This past year, I’ve been shoving coins into the smut machine of life, and all it spits out is my pride. Every two months, I publish a book, pulling the indie author lever, but all that appears on the spinning reels as I cross my fingers is… broken heart, broken heart, broken heart.
I don’t know how much more I can take. I feel like I’m one book away from giving up.
I mean, I earned a degree in Psychology. I got a 4.0. Maybe I should give up on my dream and just go fuck with minds in an official capacity.
The blue laptop screen lights up Vale’s face, her black razor-sharp bangs framing her focused eyes while she shares.
“I’ve got to figure out how I messed up this accounting software before Stacey finds out, so you stay on the floor.” She bosses me. “And don’t fuck up orfuck inthat skirt. I let you wear it to promote Valentine’s, but it’s three hundred dollars, and that bra is a hundred, so put them back when we close.”
Vale’s the manager, and only she, with her rules and stern focus, could parch a pussy working in a sex store all day.
I glance down at the luxe red bralette and tight matching pencil skirt. The leather feels like warm butter against my skin, while the cool gold-plated rings and middle zipper thrill my flesh. The long slit up the front center runs so high that a breeze teases my kitty, too, while Vale annoys me.
“What crawled up your puss and died?” I ask.
“Your tits floating like balloons in my face, and this damn transaction I can’t find.”
My sister’s foul mood is constant, like air. She’s not even looking at me.
“We got matching D cups, and you’re just pissed because no one’s sipped yours in months.”
“Yeah,” she huffs, “I’m jealous of yourkittenfishing.”
I roll my eyes. Our DNA matches; she can feel me do it.
“I’m not lying about who I am online. I just don’t share everything.”
“Like your heart.” She finally snaps her glance up at me. “You don’t tell them that you’re allergic to love, and then they go and fall for you, Casper the Kinky Ghost, and get their hearts broken.”
“I don’t ghost them. Islow fade.” I shrug. “No one gets hurt that way.”
