Page 178 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
I didn’t let her finish; I tore at her face with my claws, trying to distract her from her firm grip on me.
“Release your hands from me. I demand this at once,” I shouted.
“Why are you talking like some kind of royal? Hey, Duchess Cray Pants, calm the eff down.”
“I will not calm down, and I will not strip off my pants. This is not happening again. I refuse to have that goliath—”
The door opened before I was able to finish my sentence. Standing at what seemed like the Loch Ness Monster’s size, filling the doorframe with her knee-high stockings, white technician outfit, and her snarly unibrow was Marta, in the flesh.
“Nooooo,” I yelled, my hands cupping my crotch in pure self-defense. “You’re not going to touch my vagina; you hear me, you . . . you . . . manatee.”
“Rosie,” Delaney said. “Don’t be rude.”
Releasing myself of Delaney’s grip, I cowered in the corner, still gripping my crotch and staying as far away from Marta as I could, who was giving me a rather strange look.
“Ah, Captain Cunt Ripper.” Marta pointed and laughed at me. “You come back for more.”
“The hell I did. You’re not touching my vagina, you hear me?” I threatened her with my fist in the air. “If you come near me, I’ll do damage.” I shook my fist, my tiny, very weak fist. “I know how to do some damage with this thing, so unless you want to answer to Five-Finger McGee, then I suggest you keep your distance.”
“So no Vajazzle for you?”
I paused for a second, trying to figure out what kind of language she was speaking.
“Vajazzle? Is that some sick term you use when you’re tearing people’s clits off and laughing about it? Well, I’m not falling for it. I see the wax; I know how this works. I pull my pants down, you search my area for weak spots, apply wax in areas that will buckle all my senses, and then you rip off precious lady parts, adding them to your graveyard of psychotic torture. You’re a sadist.”
Delaney walked over to my corner cocoon and lowered my fist by palming it and pushing it down. She knelt in front of me and took my head in her hands so I had to look her in the eyes. “Hey, Muhammad Ali, lay off the threats. Vajazzling means the bedazzling of one’s vagina.”
“What?” I asked, completely confused.
“They put jewels right above our pubic bones; it’s a way to spice things up in the bedroom. I wanted to give it a try before the wedding to see if it was something I wanted for the honeymoon. They do fun designs and really make your vag sparkle. It’s painless.”
My eyes were erratic as I looked around the room. Marta stood behind Delaney, pulling out a clear container of gems. My nerves settled as I saw her polish a pair of small tweezers.
“So . . . there will be no ripping of my clit?”
“None.” Delaney laughed. “Just a little . . . vajazzle. Henry will love it.”
“How big is this vajazzle?” I asked, as Delaney lifted me off the ground.
“As big or small as you want it to be. Marta, do you have a portfolio to look at?”
“Yes.” She handed us a binder full of pictures of bedazzled vaginas, some more elaborate than others. But the general idea was they decorated your underwear line with jewels. There were some designs that covered your entire pubic area and some that were just subtle. It was intricate and kind of pretty.
“This doesn’t look that bad.”
“You want spider web?” Marta asked me.
“Excuse me?”
Marta waved at my vagina with her finger and said, “Do you want a spider web design for your penis fly trap?”
Delaney snorted while Marta laughed, loving her stupid, immature, and crass joke.
“You two are stupid,” I answered back. “I’m just going to do two simple hearts, thank you very much.”
“You go first then. Your friend wants more intricate design. Take off pants, now.”
I lifted an eyebrow at Marta. “Awfully anxious to get in my pants; something you’re not telling me, Marta?”
