Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“There is something wrong with me,” I pointed out.
He got up and headed to the kitchen, coming back moments later with a glass of something brown in both hands.
“Try it.”
I looked at him incredulously. “I should probably be at my own home if I intend to get drunk. I really do think I need to try to stand on my own two feet. It’s been a week…”
He shrugged, then dangled the drink in front of my face. “You can do that tomorrow. Tonight, we drink. Come on. Experience life.”
I took the glass and smelled it experimentally.
Then gagged. “It smells like rubbing alcohol.”
His smile widened. “Tastes kinda like it, too.”
I shook my head. “I’m only doing this because you’re making me.”
He raised both hands and shook them in mock fear. “I’m shaking in my boots.”
I looked down at his feet. “You’re only wearing one boot. So technically, you’d be shaking in your boot.”
He rolled his eyes, then bent down to get rid of his other boot.
When he’d walked in the door, I’d been examining the label on the Jack Daniels bottle. I’d had it up to my face, an idea in my mind on where I wanted to go with the project I was working on when he’d opened the door to his place.
Then he’d asked why I’d had the bottle up to my face, and I’d then had to explain. Which led us to now.
Him asking me if I thought about drinking it instead of studying it.
“To experience the fullness, I think you should drink it. You might learn why they did it like that.”
“You’re thinking the people who created the cover were drinking Jack at the time?” I asked.
He shrugged. “No better way to get to know something than to try the product itself.”
I just shook my head, then took another sniff.
“What can it hurt?”
Apparently, that was the wrong question to ask.
It could hurt a lot, in more ways than one, including making a grown man feel awful for taking advantage of a younger woman.
***
Hours later, we were well on our way to being sloshed and talking about stuff that I never, ever thought we’d be talking about.
“You’ve never had a blow job before?” I asked, eyes wide.
How had we gotten on this subject?
“No,” he admitted. “Beatrice didn’t do those.”
“But you’re…how old are you again?”
He grinned. “Thirty-five.”
“Holy shit, Coke! How have you never had one of those before? That’s like a staple in a sexual relationship. Even the women who don’t like giving them give it a go on birthdays and anniversaries. Oh, and that steak and a blow job day, too. At least, that’s what I’ve read. And you’ve never tried to get one from another girl after your divorce?”
He looked pained as he took the beer bottle from his lips.
It was his tenth…or maybe his eleventh. I wasn’t quite sure.
We’d been drinking for hours. Even though he gave me a glass of water for each drink I consumed, along with lots of food to soak up the alcohol, I was still well and truly drunk.
At this point, I wasn’t even sure if I was making sense when I spoke.
“I’ve had sex with a grand total of five women. Beatrice was my first. And there were four after our divorce. I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t trust them enough to do that to me or what, but I didn’t want those other women getting that close. I think Beatrice broke me.” He leaned his half-filled beer bottle against his temple and closed his eyes.
A sick thought occurred to me.
“All those years that you were with Beatrice…did she…did y’all…you know?”
He blinked his eyes open and grinned. “Yeah. A man has needs, and even if it was just another means for her to control me, I took it.”
That made my stomach sink.
“Beatrice sounds like a real bitch, and I really hate her. I didn’t think it was possible to hate someone so much, but I do. I hate, hate, hate her. I want to shove my foot down her throat. I can’t believe that you stayed married to someone that vile for so long. She manipulated you, held stuff over your head to force you to stay, and generally made your life a living hell for years. I just…I just can’t,” I admitted. “I’m so sorry.”
An idea started to form in my head. One that, once it started to take shape, I knew that I’d have to act on it.
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I got some. I didn’t like who I was getting it from, but even despite being married to Beatrice, I did have good things in my life. Frankie was my girl. I had a career that I loved. Then I moved on to the salvage yard. Sure, my sex life was shit, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy other parts of my life.” He sighed and downed the rest of his drink. “I’ll be back.”