"Excuse me miss, but do you need a hand with that?"
Okay, this one was all me. And she really did need and desire help, I promise.
I got a late start leaving Myrtle Beach after my last signing because I got sidetracked by a young vacationer who walked up to me at the hotel pool, bold as brass, and asked me flat out-
"Does this shirt make my tits look big?"
There's no way to answer this question intelligently. Especially when the shirt itself reads 'Sorry You Had A Bad Day. You Can Touch My Boobs If You Want.' stretched across said tits she would like an evaluation on. And not when she's obviously a freshly minted 38D with new silicone maracas she's looking to show off. I tried anyway.
"No. I think it's just the right fit." She sort of frowned at that, then pulled the shirt off, putting herself on full display for me.
"How about now?" she challenged. Understandably, I paused, considering the tableau before me and a suitable response.
"This seems to be that rare occurrence where I ask you to hold whatever I say next against me," I heard myself replying. Seriously, I'm much wittier in writing.
The short version here is, yes, she wanted to get fucked by an older guy and I was more than happy to fit the bill. Granted, I'm only about 10 years older, but she didn't seem too choosy about the exact numbers.
Except her new boobs. She told me a dozen times her new size. She was very excited about them.
She was cute, dirty blonde and willing to do quite a bit as long as I made her new tits bounce and would cum on them. This, however, is not HER story.
Rather, this is to explain why I got a late start leaving Myrtle Beach and ended up in Wilmington an hour late. Naturally, I blamed it on traffic and construction. I couldn't tell a small crowd in a nice bookstore that they had to wait for me because the slut I woke up beside insisted on my nutting on her new chest one more time before I hit the road.
It's a more persuasive argument than you'd think.
No, this story goes back to the Girl Sluts I met at the Exxxotica Expo. Or, more specifically, the hook-up app sitting on my phone.
After apologizing profusely for my tardiness, I did the usual bit where I read an excerpt from the new book. Usually something staid and intriguing from the early chapters to catch their attention and make the book interesting. Much like a straights version of our story hooks up there at the top of the page really.
Today, I grabbed one of the more thrilling bits, one that I was particularly proud of, and did my best to act out the bit while I read it. I practice at home or on the road occasionally before committing a scene to paper or do a dramatic reading for something I'm struggling with to see how it sounds. It's a process that works and don't let other writers tell you they've never done it. They all have to some extent or another.
I had just wrapped up the reading when my phone pinged. And pinged rather loudly at that. fishing it out of my pocket, I could see the 'nearby hook-up' notification quite plainly. Somewhere in the next few blocks, some kinky person out to earn a merit (Or Lack of Merit as the case may be.) badge, needed help.
Yeah, okay. 'Needs help' might be stretching 'wanted to get laid in a specific way' a bit far, but the metaphor still works.
I looked at the symbol and accepted the ping. I would look into it as I had the chance. Stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I looked over at the hapless guy my agent had hired to liaison between me and the store and shook my head.
"I'm already here, Jerry. I can't get here any faster." He blushed and the crowd laughed. And in the back of the crowd, I heard someone's phone ping a very familiar ping.
Not only did they want to get laid, they were right here in my crowd of fans.
(Alright, show of hands. Who DIDN'T see that coming?)
No time to dwell on that now, it was time to start signing books! Plopping down at the arranged table, I made small talk with each person or group that came up, signing whatever they had for me to slap my signature into. Everyone had my new novel, and more than a few had gone into the stacks and snapped up most everything else the store had with my name and face on the dust jacket or back cover.
The one that intrigued me the most was a woman wearing a sweatshirt and baggy jeans in her late 20's early 30's who came up and very deliberately set her phone down on the table before handing me her three books. I was just about to launch into my standard 'witty banter' when I noticed two things about her- a) on the strap of her carryall was a kink patch for shibari bondage and b) on her wrist was the innocuous tattoo of a semicolon.
"Thank you for staying with us miss," I said instead of something snappy and clever. "I know how delays like today's can really tie you up in knots sometimes. I hope, all things considered, all is well, and the little disruptions didn't take away from your pleasure of my reading?" I took my phone out and set it on the table as well.
"Oh no, it was quite entertaining, thank you." She kept looking directly at me, blushing and trying not to glance down at my phone. I quickly signed all three of her books, sliding them back to her with the simple dedication of 'Stay Strong. Eat the Cookies' along with my own quick rendition of the Sluts trefoil symbol, easily mistakable for the other one. She smiled, thanked me, then disappeared into the stacks.
It took me another hour of signing and schmoozing to make everyone happy. Every so often I'd see her drift between racks, casually glancing back at my table, patiently waiting. Eventually, the store made a tidy little profit. Jerry got a gold star for being prepared. I had to excuse myself because my signing hand was pleasantly cramped and I needed to piss.
