Page 68 of Stroked Long
“Andrea?”
“My friend. She was in town and came over to watch phallic-shaped men flop around in the water.”
“Flop around? Almost positive we did more than that.”
Rolling her eyes in a sweet way, she says, “Oh yeah, you stroked your way to victory. Does that sound better?”
“It does.” I smirk. If only she knew what other way I stroked myself to victory that night. “So are you going to hand over the Oreos or continue to hold them hostage?”
“Depends. Are you going to share?”
“Doesn’t seem like I have a choice.”
“You really don’t,” she says matter-of-factly. “Would you like a drink?”
“Water is fine.”
“How did I know you were going to say that? One water for the health nut and a beautiful chemical-filled soda for this girl.” With drinks and Oreos in one arm, she links the other with mine and sits on the couch next to her.
Turning, she lays one leg across the couch while the other dangles to the ground. That’s when I notice what she’s wearing: a pair of pink plaid pajama pants and a lime-green tank top. My eyes should be offended by the color bouncing off her, but instead they’ve become accustomed to her outrageous color combinations. It’s almost . . . soothing now.
How fucking weird is that?
Placing the drinks on the coffee table, she practically bounces in her seat when she says, “So tell me, how excited are you about going to your third Olympics?”
“Yeah, it’s cool.” I nod my head.
Tilting her head to the side, she studies me with those gorgeous inquisitive eyes of hers. In a monotone voice, she replies, “Wow, calm yourself, Bodi. You don’t want to lose control with excitement.”
Chuckling, I snag the package from her hands and undo the ribbon. “I’m not much of a celebrator.”
“That’s kind of obvious.”
“But I’m making an exception tonight.” Holding out an Oreo to her, I hold up one for myself in my other hand. She takes it, her head slightly tilted to the side and a smile caressing her endearing face. “To Rio.”
Bumping my cookie with hers, we cheers, and then both twist the Oreo in half. She watches in anticipation as I bring one half up to my mouth and pop it in. She squeals and bounces in her seated position with glee.
“You ate a cookie. I regular old cookie.”
Quirking my lip to the side, I reply, “It’s a Double Stuf Oreo, Rubes; of course I ate it.”
Shaking her head in mirth, she starts licking the filling from the cookie.Don’t watch, Banks. Do not watch Ruby lick that filling . . .Fuck. “If only I knew the first night I came to your place. I would have brought Double Stuf Oreos instead.”
Still probably wouldn’t have eaten it. I don’t tell her that, better to keep her hopes up about me indulging in treats, but in reality those indulgences are few and far between.
Scanning her space, I notice her computer propped open on the coffee table, a job website on the screen, and a notepad next to the computer with notes. Her TV screen is paused, and all I can see are two brunette women in a diner. Even though I’m curious about what she’s watching, I’m more concerned why it looks like she’s looking for a job.
Splitting apart another Oreo, I nod at the computer and ask, “Are you looking to leave the club?”
“What?” Her eyes focus on where I nodded and instantly her face flushes. “Uh, no.” Before I can ask another question, she slams the computer screen shut and hides the notepad she was scribbling on.
“Oh really?” I press because she’s pressed me before and I figured it’s my turn. “Kind of seemed like you were, and by the way you not so nonchalantly hid your notepad I’m going to assume I’m right about this.”
Sighing, she scrunches down on the couch and leans her head against the back of the cushion. “I’m looking for some part-time work right now. I love working with the kids at the club, but I also like to eat and live under a roof, so I need a little extra cash flow.” She covers her face with her hands. “This is so embarrassing to talk to you about.”
“Why?” My brow furrows.
“Because.” She lowers her hands and grabs another Oreo. “You’re Bodi Banks. You don’t have to worry about cash flow, people are practically licking your neck to get you to endorse them.”
