There was a questioning raise to my eyebrow before I grabbed her purse and pulled out a small bag.
“Look inside.” She nodded at the present.
I set her purse down and then peeked into the bag. At the bottom were two gold colored marble looking objects connected by a string. “What are these?” I asked, pulling them out and holding them up.
“Those are what are going to separate you from everyone else at the party tonight.”
“Is it a necklace?” I held the balls up to my collarbone and observed them in the mirror, while Delaney continued to curl my hair. “I don’t normally wear chunky jewelry, but I could possibly make these work.”
“It’s not a necklace, Rosie,” Delaney corrected me, exasperation heavy in her voice. “Those are Ben Wa balls.”
“What are Ben—” I paused as the name sunk in. “The vagina marbles from Fifty Shades of Grey?”
Delaney proudly smiled. “The very same.”
“Are you insane? I’m not going to use these. How would these even relate to being sexy?”
Delaney released my hair from the curling iron and let it fall over my shoulder. “Of course you’re going to use them. They will be perfect. When you get to the party, slip into the bathroom quickly, insert them up there, and then walk out to Henry with a mischievous smile on your face. He will ask you what’s going on, and very gently, you will press your hand against his chest and lean toward his ear where you will whisper that you’re clenching onto those balls, pretending they are his penis. He will go wild.”
I give her a wincing look. “Sounds like a really bad idea.”
“Believe me, I did it with Derk, and we had the wildest sex ever that night.”
“Ew!” I screeched and tossed the balls to the side. “Were those in your vagina?”
Delaney rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Vagina wands, balls, lubes and nets should never be shared. One lady’s vagina juice is another man’s sex cream.”
“What?” I nearly puked. “That makes no sense whatsoever, and is so incredibly crude that if you put that in a book people would immediately bring your rating down from a five to a four star.”
“Well then I suggest you keep clear of quoting me in your book.” She twisted another section of hair into the curling iron and continued. “How’s that going, by the way? The book.”
“I finished it and it’s with an editor,” I answered sheepishly.
“What?!” Delaney screeched, almost ripping my hair out of my scalp. “Your book is being edited right now? What happened to letting me read it? Did Wolf Fleece Wendy read the whole thing?”
“She did.”
“And . . .” Delaney motioned for me to continue.
“She loved it. She actually said some really sweet things and warned me that since it was comedy, not everyone would get it, which was okay. She said as long as I made some people laugh, that was all that mattered.”
“Not everyone is going to like your book, and that’s all right,” Delaney encouraged. “Look at a popular book like Fifty Shades of Grey. It opened up the publishing market for authors like you to write what you want and express your thoughts and feelings through creative imagination. Those books made such an impact on our generation and encouraged people like me, who never read, to pick up a book and read a little smut-mance. Despite her popularity, there are people out there who absolutely despise her stories; there will always be someone who doesn’t agree with what you write. Too bad for those naysayers; E.L. James is dancing her way to the bank . . . she deserves that little shimmy.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right,” Delaney stated matter-of-factly. “Now, back to Fifty Shades of Grey, you are going to wear those Ben Wa balls tonight, and you’re going to wear them well. I will pack your purse with the balls and some lube while you’re getting dressed. And don’t argue with me about it.”
I sighed and left the conversation at that. She wasn’t going to the party, so she wouldn’t know the difference.
Since my hair was so thick, it took some extra time to finish; by the time my hair was fully set in place by a pound of hairspray, I was already running a little late. I was meeting Henry at the party because he had some things to get done beforehand—shock alert—so I didn’t have him pestering me to hurry up.
“Crap, I’m going to be late.” I looked at the time. “Let me get dressed and then we can walk out together. Can you call down to the doorman to flag a taxi for me in ten?”
“You got it,” Delaney called from behind me, while I ran into the bedroom.
Hanging on the door frame of the bathroom was my dress that Delaney had helped me pick out. Thankfully, she steamed it while I was doing my makeup, so it was ready to go and wrinkle free.
Rummaging through my drawers, I looked for my strapless bra, but couldn’t find it anywhere. I mentally tried to remember the last time I wore it, but nothing was coming to memory. I fished through Henry’s drawers, wondering if it accidently got stuck in with his boxers, but it was nowhere to be found.
“Damn it,” I muttered, looking around.
Trying one more time, I dug through my drawers, but could only find the strapless bra I wore to my high school prom. I should be ashamed for having something so old, but memories get the best of me sometimes. It used to be white and had definitely seen better days, but it was all I had, so I connected the ends together at the front clasp and brought it up to my breasts. I shoved them in and gasped at how tight it was.
“Christ,” I groaned. My boobs rested heavily in the cups and the underwire strained from end to end. “This is really tight.” I eyed the dress and knew I had to wear a bra; there was no option of going commando up top, not for a girl of my breastual size.
Praying to the lords above that the thing wasn’t going to pop off, I snatched my dress off the hanger and put it on, making sure to not make too many jerky movements, in consideration of the bra.
Once everything was in place, I slipped on my black kitten heels, a red necklace to match my lipstick, and then fluffed out my curly hair. Despite the slight pooch I was sporting, I was looking really sexy.
“Eat your heart out, Henry,” I said, while shimmying at the mirror.
Delaney met me at the front door with my purse and a giant smile on her face. “You look so hot, Rosie. Henry won’t know what hit him.”
“Just what I’m hoping for.”
As I was leaving, I went to switch off the lights when I caught a glimpse of Sir Licks-a-Lot, perched on the window sill, sitting in a white fabric-like cup. He started kneading it with his claws and that’s when I realized he had my bra! I wanted so badly to go and grab it from him, but I had no time, and with my luck, he’d probably marked it with kitty smell and I would smell like a litter box the entire night. So, I let him win this round, but made sure to flip him off before I shut the door.
On the elevator ride down, Delaney explained to me how to use the Ben Wa balls, but I ignored her, not interested in partaking in any crazy kind of vagina Olympics tonight.
The taxi ride to the venue was agonizing, not because I just wanted to be there, but because the dress was really tight, my bra felt like it was going to burst open any minute, and any circulation my body was trying to flow through my waist was cut off. I shifted in my seat, so I wasn’t so scrunched up and more horizontal, but it only provided temporary relief. Looked like I would be standing all night.
By the time we pulled up to the building, I was lying flat across the seat, enjoying the ass prints of New Yorkers from all over the city. Quickly, I paid, got out of the cab with some tricky finessing, holding my breath so I didn’t pop anything open, and then jogged to the elevator.
The short trip from the taxi to the elevator seemed like a mile as I held on to the side of the metal rail and enjoyed the twenty-two-floor ride up. Damn kid was sucking in all of my oxygen, leaving nothing for me.
As the elevator approached the designated floor, I straightened up and fiddle
d with my hair, using the reflection of the metal to gauge my look.
It wasn’t helpful at all.
The elevator doors opened to a room full of executives and party goers, dressed in black suits and colorful dresses. They all had drinks in their hands and were animatedly talking to each other. The room was decorated simply with white and black flowers. Waiters in black button-up dress shirts and black ties milled about the room, offering drinks and hors d’oeuvres. My mouth watered as a tray full of shrimp passed by me. I would be getting my fingers on one of those bad boys in a bit.
In the sea of black, it was hard to locate Henry. It wasn’t until I scooted farther into the room that I found him talking to his boss, Eric, and of course . . . Tasha. From a distance, I observed them together. She was incredibly gorgeous in a red turtleneck dress that clung to every part of her thin body. Her arms were perfectly toned, and surprisingly, her boobs were covered, except for the keyhole in her dress that just so happened to fall over the line of her cleavage.
She talked naturally with Henry and Eric, touching Henry’s arm occasionally while she laughed. It took everything in me not to shove my heel through her eye socket.
Their interactions almost seemed so incredibly natural, as if they were made for each other, and at that moment, I no longer felt sexy; I felt like the frumpy girlfriend who was too big to fit in her dress. Tears started to well up in my eyes, and before they could fall over and ruin my makeup, I dashed off to the bathroom, where I locked myself in a stall and took deep breaths.
Needing some encouragement, I dialed Delaney on my phone and prayed she picked up.
On the second ring, she answered, “Hello?”
“Delaney, I can’t do this. She’s so pretty and I’m barely fitting in my dress. What was I thinking when I chose this outfit? I look like a stuffed sausage trying to expand out of its casing.”
“Are you insane?” Delaney cut me off before I could say anything else. “You look gorgeous, Rosie. You look sexy as hell, and the minute Henry sees you, he will fall at your feet. Now, have you put the balls in yet?”
“No,” I replied quietly.
A long, drawn-out breath sounded over the phone. “Rosie, I am going to cancel my bachelorette party tomorrow and blame everything on you if you do not put those balls in your vagina. I’m telling you, the minute you whisper into Henry’s ear about clenching his cock, he’s going to want to take you home immediately. It will be Boner City and his dick will name you mayor.”
“Men really like that?”
“You tell me? What do your books say to do?”
“You always say they’re fiction and don’t count as real life,” I countered.
“They are fiction, but men’s responses are most of the time spot on in those books. Are you going to be adventurous and turn up the heat in your relationship or just sit back and watch Tasha talk to your man?”
I pulled out the Ben Wa balls and stared at them. I could do this. “I’m going to be adventurous.”
“That’s my girl,” Delaney cheered. “Call me later. Love you!”
She hung up before I could ask her any questions, most likely because she was in the middle of her own sexual adventures.
Needing to grow a pair of lady balls, I grabbed the lube, pulled down my underpants and lifted my dress up around my waist.
Being a lube virgin, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the thin liquid, so, I popped the top open, squatted ever so slightly with my legs spread as much as they could go, thanks to my underwear, and I pressed the lube up near my vagina. Taking a deep breath, I squeezed hard and shot the lube straight up into Virginia.
A cold wave of thin liquid coated my inner walls right before gravity took hold of it and brought it back down, straight into my underwear, my now appointed lube net.
“Crap,” I muttered, looking down at the pile of liquid sitting in the crotch of my underwear.
Bottle and balls in my hands, I stared at the mess and tried to decide what to do. The heaviness of the lube weighed down my underwear, so I shimmied them down my legs and toed them to the side to pick up after. Commando was sexy, I told myself.
Still eyeing the balls, I convinced myself I could do this. How hard could it really be? Taking a deep breath, I prayed there was enough lube still coating Virginia and slipped the first ball in. Easily I pushed it up and was pleased with the way it fit. With a little more confidence, I thumbed the second one inside and clenched. A small vibration rang through me . . . a pleasing sensation was I wasn’t expecting.
“Well, isn’t that delightful?” I said to myself.
Standing there, I felt comfortable; I could totally do this. More confident, I deposited my underwear and the empty lube bottle in the sanitary napkins trash can—sorry cleaning service—and wiped my hands with some toilet paper so I didn’t slick down the door handle.
Flushing the toilet, I exited, walking very slowly to the sink. With every step, my confidence wavered. I had to really think about each push forward, clenching as tight as I could, praying I didn’t strain my damn cervix.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
While I washed my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror. I observed the way my brown locks fell over my shoulders in voluptuous waves, along with the cat-eye makeup I’d applied to my eyes, accentuating my blue irises. My lips were plump and red, and my boobs were inches away from popping out of my dress. I really did look sexy, maybe a little over the top, not really like me at all, but maybe that’s what I needed. I was going to be a mom; I didn’t want to be a single mom.
Henry was hit and miss these days; I didn’t want him to leave me because I was losing myself. I wanted to show him that I could still be frisky, that I wanted nothing more than to be with him.
Knowing I could do this, I took a deep breath, blew a kiss to myself in the mirror, and took off toward the door.
I took small steps, keeping my legs closed together as much as possible. I could tell I was walking weird, I knew my tongue was sticking out of my mouth as I concentrated on each step, and I knew if I spread my legs one millimeter apart, my balls were going to drop.
This was probably the worst decision I’d ever made.
Chapter Fifteen
Triceratops Tits
HENRY
If she touched me one more time, I was going to rip the extensions right out of her hair and shove them down her throat.
My irritation level was at an all-time high. Rosie was late; Tasha was either touching me or touching the board members, and her campaign that she unveiled today was actually good, better than I expected it to be. It made me wonder how much of it she actually did.
I spent all day running over designs, making sure everything was the way I wanted it, and spent countless hours with a knot in my stomach. I felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. Rosie was pregnant, and I needed to be able to provide for the both of us, for the three of us. I’d never felt so much pressure in my life, and to top it off, I had to deal with the plastic altered leech who refused to leave me alone all night.
“Oh, Eric, you’re hilarious,” she cooed, taking a sip of her champagne.
Literally everything she said, every little chuckle that came out of her mouth, to my ears, was like a drunk Sofia Vergara trying to sing the National Anthem. It wasn’t pretty . . . at all.
I ground my teeth, trying to keep the tongue lashing I wanted to give her to myself. Gripping my drink tightly, I scanned the room, looking for the one girl I wanted to drape my arm across.
There were a lot more people at the party than I expected to attend, all people I really had no interest in talking to. Normally, I was spot on when it came to networking, and I could charm the socks off any executive, but my mind was elsewhere tonight. I wanted this campaign to be over, this competition to be finished with, and I just wanted to be with Rosie, snuggled up by her side, maybe deep inside of her.
It had been way too long since I’d been able to intimately connect with her.
That was going to change soon. We were going to see a doctor and get everything straightened out.
From the corner of the room where the bathrooms were located, I saw groups of people part as a beautiful brunette made her way straight toward me. She was taking tiny steps forward, as if she was a stick figure Barbie and didn’t have bendable knees. Robot like gestures flowed through her, tiny step after tiny step, and I wondered what the hell she was doing.
I tried to ignore the awkward walk she was making and took in her appearance. She was wearing an extremely tight black dress that was entirely too low cut around her breasts, which were on display for the entire room. I immediately started to feel uncomfortable from the press of my crotch against my zipper.
It’s been way too fucking long.
Her hair was gorgeously floating around her shoulders, and her lips looked so fucking kissable that all I wanted to do was take her home right now.
Her beautifully highlighted eyes made contact with mine and a sheepish smile crossed her face. My heart beat faster from the way she gave me the once-over. Pride beamed through my chest at the fact that this fantastically beautiful woman was mine.
Ignoring Tasha’s relentless story, I made my way toward my girl, meeting her—well, not halfway, since she took steps Papa Smurf could match.
“Love, you look stunning.” I pulled her into a hug. She was stiff at first, but then melted into me. “I’ve missed you,” I whispered into her ear.
“Have you really?” Insecurity rained through her.
“Of course I have.” I placed a kiss on her temple. I pulled away and gave her one more once-over and shook my head. “I can’t believe I can call you mine. You’re so beautiful, Rosie.”
“Thank you. It’s all for you,” she said in a weirdly sexual way and then licked her teeth.
That was odd. I shook it off and said, “Would you like to say hi to Eric? You will have to say hi to Tasha, but I promise we won’t talk to her long.”
“Anything you want, big guy.” She leaned into my year and yipped . . . like a Chihuahua.