Page 17 of Untying the Knot
“Is that code?”
“What do you think, genius?” She reaches for my beer—again, this started after she began to growl—and she takes a long pull.
What an odd combination in a woman. She’s gorgeous, that’s unmistakable. Her eyes, highlighted by her long lashes, would penetrate any soul with how beautifully blue they are. There’s a cute slope to her nose that I don’t think I’ve ever noticed on a person before, and her jawline cuts right to those plump, red lips. And then match that with her curves, her plump ass, and those tits, and she’s a total knockout. Stunning, but her personality . . . fuck, it does not match her looks. It’s not what I’d expect if I saw her walking down the street. She’s brash, unperturbed, and free. She doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks of her, says what’s on her mind, and holds absolutely nothing back. I realized this when she told me my left pec looked bigger than my right.
And for some insane, asinine, completely fucked reason, it turns me on.
She turns me on.
Her mouth.
Her brain.
Her quick wit.
Her no-holds-barred attitude.
I’m attracted to it.
“Have you ever had sex in a public restroom?” she asks, breaking the silence and pulling me from my irritating thoughts.
“No. Have you?”
“Attempted it, but the guy ended up slipping and dunking his butt in the toilet. He left unsatisfied and with swamp ass. I gave him my thong as a parting gift. I think he sold it on some underwear website because I saw one very similar to mine.”
“What are you talking about? Underwear website?”
“Oh yeah, pervs pay big money for used underwear. I’ve sold a few items here and there.”
“What?” I feel my eyes pop out of my sockets. Jesus, I’m not an innocent man by any means, I’ve done my fair share of obscure things, but selling used underwear? That’s a new one for me.
“Oh yeah, once I made over one thousand dollars and scored a stalker through the website, so I called it quits. The money is great and all, but I have some level of dignity, you know? Now I just have an Only Fans account for my feet. Helps supplement my server income while I’m in school.”
“Wait, you’re serious.”
“Yeah. I just upload a picture daily to satisfy the customers and move on with my life.”
I pause. Is she joking with me? From what little I know about her, it doesn’t seem like this would be a joke, but then again, I’m sure she’s just waiting to tell me what an idiot I am for believing her. So I decide to ask questions.
“Are you in these pictures?”
“Why, you interested?”
Christ, I should have seen that coming.
“No. I don’t have a foot fetish.”
She squeezes her boobs together even more and says, “No, just a boob one, right?”
Fuck.
Yes.
I rest my hand on the bar-top table. “Any straight man has a boob fetish.”
“I once went out with a guy who was more interested in my belly button.”
“Where the hell are you meeting these people?”
