Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
The room erupts in hoots, hollers, and laughs, and I’m forced to shout to be heard.
“Alright, alright, enough!” I bellow. “That wasn’t funny. In fact, I'd better not find out one of you staged that. And if I do find out who, you’re fucking gone.”
My serious tone and use of choice words, something I rarely use in front of them, gives everyone pause as they realize I’m not joking around.
“Yeah,” Evan adds, backing me up as he stands and stares flat faced into the crowd alongside me. “I know you guys like your pranks, but this went too far. Wrong place, wrong time.”
The room descends into grumbling as everyone looks at each other, but it doesn’t seem like anyone is going to rat on the culprit, and looking at all the faces gathered, a part of me begins to wonder if maybe it wasn’t a prank.
Is it possible she stumbled into the wrong room and truly is here for another event?
I shudder to think what that event might be considering what all rolled out on the stage. But a part of me can’t help but speculate. I’m not as lewd as the club guys, but even I’ll admit that it’s not every day a beautiful woman tosses toys at your feet.
As I think about the dick that was pointed right at her pink, pouty lips, I feel heat start to grow under my collar, and I hurriedly push those thoughts away lest I embarrass myself in front of everyone.
I clear my throat. “Let’s refocus and move on, guys.” Too-wide grins and mischievous eyes meet my instruction, and I know I have to get them back with me. “Look, I know it’s hard . . . but come on . . .” I tease, intentionally emphasizing the words to make them chuckle a bit. When it succeeds, I shake my head and smile too. “I’ve totally forgotten. Where were we before all that?”
I gesture toward the stage, intentionally avoiding reminding Lucas and Enzo that they were near blows before Dickapalooza happened.
Stephen, a quiet guy who’s only been a member for a short time, offers, “The basics.”
The two words are enough to get me back on track, and I speak for another thirty minutes about how setting intentions, following through, and being your best self are the steps to success, however you define it.
Somehow, by the end of my speech, I feel like I’ve reached the majority of the guys. Either I’ve inspired the ones who are already members or hooked the ones who are considering joining.
But as our group activities start and everyone begins to mingle with a drink in hand and freedom to chitchat, most of them are laughing and joking about the ‘Sex Toy Barbie’, as I hear them calling her.
Evan walks up to give me a slap on the shoulder, saying, “Great speech, man, but that was some crazy shit.”
“Yeah,” I answer dully.
“Can’t win ‘em all,” he offers. “But I bet our next orientation is full after word gets out about this. You’ll have to really bring it, and I don’t mean the dildos.”
That’s Evan, always thinking about the bottom line.
CHAPTER 4
SAMANTHA
I’m a bundle of nerves and embarrassment, breathless and flushed, when Jaxx and I enter Bedroom Heaven's party. Apparently, the distracted receptionist was one door off, and Jaxx tried to catch me in the hallway but I didn’t hear her calling me. I guess I’m just glad she rescued me from my rather prick-ly predicament.
This room has a totally different vibe from the serious whatever it was I crashed. It’s open and spacious, with ambient lighting glowing in pink, purple, and white hues, creating a fun and flirty atmosphere. Tables with a variety of toys are spread throughout the room, and women of all ages are mingling and shopping with plastic cup cocktails in their hands.
Everything is selfie-ready, including a central display with a massively oversized, veined dildo suction-cupped to the table where people are crowded around, cheesing into their phone’s camera. I’m not sure I want a picture of me with a three-foot dick, but whatever floats their boats.
“Holy crap, this is like a mini adult convention!” I whisper, and Jaxx laughs. “What?”
“What do you know about adult conventions?”
“Everything. From Instagram, of course.” At her dubious look, I quickly tack on, “And for research.”
“I bet.” Pausing, she tilts her head and points across the room. “I think that’s our table. Let’s set up and drop some dongs!” It takes a few trips to both our cars to unload all of our gear, but once we do, Jaxx instructs me to ‘spread ’em’ with a wicked grin of her black-painted lips.
Jaxx’s good humor helps because after that fuckup of a catastrophe next door, my nervous gut has somehow just gotten worse. The table beside us is filled with women wearing feathery boas around their necks and oversized clown sunglasses on their heads like tiaras, both of which are decorated with dangling penis ornaments that clink together with every movement like a dick symphony.