Page 59 of Grumpy Puck

“Yes, but you like red more.”She waves at the saleswoman.“I think I should try on a few more dresses.”

And boy, does she try on more.If my spank bank were a real bank, it would need to open a few new branches at this point.

Could she be teasing me?Is this an attempt at seduction?

If it’s the latter, she succeeded on dress number one.At this point, I can’t even recall why it would be a bad idea to fuck her brains out—especially seeing how I don’t have a game tomorrow, or anytime soon.

No.I think it’s my dick’s wishful thinking that is making me think this is a seduction.She?—

“What about now?”Calliope asks.“Do you have a favorite?”

This is starting to sound like a trick question.“Can I see the black again?”

Nodding approvingly, she disappears into the changing room, and I wait with bated breath and a hard dick.

When she comes out, I look at the dress as if for the first time.“This is the one,” I say solemnly.And by that, I mean when I picture her in my mind from now on, she’ll either be wearing this dress or, more likely, nothing at all.

She beams at me.“Who knew you had such good taste?”

By the time we return to the hotel room, all I have time for is a cold shower and a quick change into my suit.Then, per Calliope’s instructions, I knock before leaving the bathroom, “in case she’s not decent.”

Fuck.Thinking of what that could entail undoes all the benefits of the cold shower.

“Come out,” she says.

When I step into the suite, she’s turned away from the giant mirror, thanks to which I can see her from the front and back.

“Wow,” I say in an understatement of the century.

Her cheeks redden.“You saw me like this at the store.”

Should I tell her I could see her in that dress a million more times and still have the same overreaction?

“You didn’t have your hair done at the store,” I say lamely.“It adds to the ‘wow.’”And she has put her hair in an updo, which exposes her long, delicate, and very kissable neck.

She beams at me.“You don’t look too bad yourself, boo.”She walks over and grabs my tie.“Let me just adjust that.”

As she fixes the wayward tie, I fight the overwhelming urge to rip her dress off and carry her to the giant bed.

“That’s better.”She bats her eyelashes at me prettily.“Now we can go.”

Leaving is the last thing I want to do, but we’re late as is.Plus, she wouldn’t want me to take her to bed.She’s not into casual hookups, and I’m not sure if we have the time to start a real relationship.Not that the latter is a good idea.If we dated for real, just as I’d start to care about her, she’d leave, just like everyone else in my life.No, it’s better?—

“Here.”She thrusts the rat carrier into my hand.“Make yourself useful.”

She then rummages through her suitcase and takes out some hoops “for the rats to jump through,” balls “for the rats to balance on,” a unicycle for obvious reasons, a tiny soccer ball, and two goalposts.

“Shouldn’t that be a puck?”I point at the soccer ball.

She shrugs.“I taught them to play soccer before I knew I’d have a hockey career.”She stashes all the trick accessories into a bag and swaps it for the carrier in my hands.“Let’s go.”

“So,” I say while we sit next to each other in an Uber.“You didn’t know you’d have a hockey career?”

She shakes her head.“I worked as a character in theme parks, but then I got blacklisted from that field, so I took the mascot gig.What I really want, though, is to do rat shows for a living.”

“You do?”I glance at the rat carrier.“Why?”

She thinks about my question for a block or so.“Historically, rats have had bad PR and have been blamed for things like spreading the plague.”

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