“Someone grab your balls too tight tonight?” Madge rasped, clenching the plastic balls in her hand. She nodded toward the warlock waitress. “You ever gonna cart this monstrosity away?”
“Oh!” Mike groaned. “You mean him?” He pointed at the cardboard cut out.
“What other third would I be talking about?” she asked, incredulous, her hand batting the testicles and shooting Dylan a dirty look. “You two are too old to come in here drunk,” she chided.
Mike sighed, his lips buzzing as the air left him and he and Dylan buried themselves in the menu. “God damn, Dylan. We need to figure all this out.”
The last notes of some Meatloaf song faded out and then the all-too-familiar first chords of AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” filled the air. The blond’s head began tapping out the beat and the ratty little brunette with her looked like Will Ferrell playing a cowbell. Could that really be Laura?
Nah.
Why did the brunette keep staring at him? She huddled with the blonde, who fake-scratched her head and tried to do that sly thing where you look behind yourself without making it obvious.
“Chipotle maple sausage and a five-scoop sundae for me,” Mike announced. “Fried green tomatoes, too. Double order.”
“Swear to God, Mike. Look at her. It’s Laura.” Just then, Madge appeared, dragging the warlock waitress with her. Julian Sands seemed to be judging their meal choices.
“The third in your threesome,” Madge announced grandly. The frat boys at the other table all did a spit-take in unison, bursting into good-natured laughter.
And then the brunette froze. The blonde turned slowly, the folds of her neck reluctant to complete the motion, her arm reaching back as if through water, her body needing to know but so—
Yes. It was Laura.
And boy was she pissed.
“Motherfucker!” she hissed. “They’re following me?”
“So that is them? Holy shit, Laura, they’re more scrumptious in person than online.” Josie actually licked her lips and said, “I wish they were on the menu.”
Threesome? Had Madge actually said something about a threesome with them? Were they that open with everyone but her? Why on earth would a dried-up old octogenarian speak openly about their sex life like this?#p#分页标题#e#
“Warlock Waitress here wants you to take her home. Have your way with her. Give her the complete sex change she’s entitled to,” she heard Madge joke, a raspy smoker’s laugh rumbling after.
“You mean make Julian into Julia?” Dylan dished back. All three laughed.
They had no right to laugh! Not when everything in Laura’s mouth turned to sawdust and Josie stared at her like something in an insane asylum under twenty-four hour watch.
“I’ll make a scene and you can crawl out through the kitchen,” Josie suggested.
“What?”
“And then I’ll go over there and hang with them and we can be besties and I’ll,” she licked her lips again, “get my own taste of Superhero Sandwich. I can be the meat.”
“You are a sick woman.”
“I got the fever and they got the cure.”
“I know you’re joking, but this isn’t funny anymore.”
Josie dropped the act instantly. “Sorry. You’re right. What can we do?”
Crawling on hands and knees was starting to look like a great option, except she would have to abandon the rest of her cake. Was saving face worth leaving this luscious, green-tinted pistachio chocolate mound of salvation?
With ice cream? And the untouched homemade mint whipped cream?
No. She would stand her ground.
For the sake of gastronomical integrity.
Someone had to. And she would make that sacrifice. Determined, Laura took another enormous bite of cake, ice cream, whipped cream and all dipped in peanut butter sauce.
The moan that escaped her body rivaled anything she’d made in bed with those two.
Which is why they both turned in unison, she imagined, staring as she devoured her true love. Thor could have his hammer. Dylan looked enough like a short Christian Bale to be Batman. Right now, though, she was going green, getting her most important hole stuffed by the Hulk.
Peanut Butter Hulk Smash cake allowed her to be the avenger now.
Could those two be any weirder? Following her here to Jeddy’s, where she still had their funk on her. In her. In places no man had ever been before on her body. Places she suspected no one except maybe, once, the gynecologist had touched during a routine “Hi! Welcome to 25!” exam.
Was it getting warm suddenly? “Are you hot, Josie?” she asked through a mouthful of cake.