Page 77 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
Licking.
Flicking.
Man between my legs.
And . . . the sound. The retched, blasting sound that rumbled the top of the desk, easily sliding this moment into the top most embarrassing things I had ever done..
Did I really just fart while a man was performing oral on me? No, not possible. Please for the love of all flavored condoms, please tell me I didn’t fart.
Unfortunately, from the look of disgust on his face . . . I think I did.
Panic set in. There was only one thing that came to mind.
Only one thing that could possibly make this situation worse.
Don’t say it.
Bad idea.
Keep your mouth SHUT!
But life was never that easy as I nervously laughed, licked my lips and then said the one thing that would ruin any chances of ever seeing this man again. “Whoever smelt it, dealt it?”
From a far distance, I heard Virginia queef me a “fuck you” and then felt her shrivel up to end all humiliation. The poor girl was never going to come out to play, ever again. I swore at my ass, wanting to take a cork to it and teach it a lesson.
I farted.
I farted on the man’s head.
I farted on his chin, on his damn chin.
Without a word, Phillip pulled away and walked to a closed door, which I assumed was a private bathroom, to wash off the flatus I imparted on him.
Mentally I brushed off my hands.Well, my work here was done.
It was time to bolt.
Not caring if I even zipped my fly, I threw my pants on and got the hell out of his office as quickly as humanly possible, keeping my head down, and trying to avoid all eye contact with every human in the building.
On my elevator ride down to my office, I mentally swore a slew of obscenities at every erotic romance novelist I’d ever read. Not once did they ever mention the possibility of farting on a chin while being eaten out. Why was that?
Oh, I know, because it wasn’t sexy!
Fuck you, asshole, fuck you.
Chapter Fourteen
The Best Friend
The cab ride to my apartment after work was a lonely one as I shifted on the worn-out leather seat, missing my underwear, especially since the zipper of my pants was rubbing against poor Virginia. I normally took the subway home from work since it was cheaper and faster but right now, I couldn’t face the underground world of New York City.
I could feel myself start to slip into a dark vat of denial soup. I’d spent a good portion of my life reading books about romance and never once was I exposed to such a depressing reality that it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Then again, Delaney and Henry seemed to have a pretty easy time when it came to relationships. So what it came down to was simple. I was cursed. There was no other reasoning for it.
Four for fricken’ four. Stats don’t lie.
Maybe I had high expectations; maybe I was setting the bar too high?
Maybe I was living in an imaginary world where sex really was this complicated.
