Page 41 of Space Junk: Houston, We Have a Hottie
I mean, it’s not that Jackie isn’t freaking hot. She is. But a lot of men are stupid, only interested if there’s enough skin on display. Jackie presents herself in a way that doesn’t invite attention, but I love it. I mean, who wears periodic table T-shirts? Jackie does, that’s who. It’s original, just like her. She’s also freaking smart as hell, and some men lack the confidence to break through that I-have-better-things-on-my-mind shield Jackie probably doesn’t even know she throws up.
Good thing I have experience looking under the hood and even after the disastrous end to our kiss the other night, I’ve never lacked in the confidence department.
Tonight, though, even with that shield in place, the men are coming at her. And it’s no wonder. Her hair is pulled back from her face in the front, the rest loose and long down her back. Though the multicolored lights change with each spin, I know those locks to be a captivating mix of white, blond, gold and chocolate, swirling together like the iridescent shimmer of motor oil. The wavy ends trail lightly on the seat of her stool. Her chub-inducing glasses on full display.
She’s wearing a dress. And it has to be short, because sitting down as she is, it’s hiked up high on her thighs, giving the guys in here a look at those long, toned legs. Legs likely toned from all the walking she does when her car kicks out on her and the three flights of stairs she jogs up. She has on a leather jacket. It looks like a biker jacket, but it’s cut tight around her body. That, in addition to the black studded high-heeled cowboy boots, is enough to make any man start fantasizing about hot librarians.
Lord knows I’ve spent the past few days with enough of my own smart-girl fantasies.
Her glossy lips shine in those cascading bar lights. Lips I want to stare at while she explains some complex, scientific matter. Or moaning my name. Or wrapped around my cock. I wonder if I ask, if she’d give me a lesson on the history of blow jobs. Fuck, she’d probably call it fellatio, all proper and academic like, while pushing her glasses up on her nose.
I shift again.
Jackie’s head tilts back, probably laughing at something inappropriate Rose said. Her laughter makes me oddly happy. Jackie seems like such a serious person, or better, a person who’s used to being serious. Rose hadn’t told me much about Jackie, claiming the girl code or something, but I’ve gleaned what I could since Jackie stopped talking to me. Jackie’s a workaholic, recently looking to expand her social life. Apparently, Rose finds her both hilarious and fascinating, and for once, I agree with my sister’s choice of friends. I just wish I knew what I did to piss her off.
I head over to the bar, claim a seat and order a beer. I’m thinking a bit of recon might help me out. That and letting the girls have another drink. I’m not afraid to play a bit dirty; I mean it has been a while since I’ve done this. And I’ve never been interested in someone like Jackie. She is so far away from the ditzy, spoiled, self-indulgent women of my past.
Thank God.
* * *
Ten minutes later,I’m still staring. I probably look like a creeper, but seeing as most of the men in here are staring at Jackie’s table as well, I’m not alone. Luckily, the girls are too wrapped up in their conversation to notice.
Jackie seems lit up tonight—hands waving, long hair swishing, index finger pushing up her glasses. At times looking embarrassed, others like she’s lecturing.
Professor Darling Lee. Oh, I could definitely see that.
On a side note, wooden bar stool seats donotfeel good when you have dick situation going on.
Rose says something to Trish, to which the brunette smiles and nods her head. Rose drops her arms to her sides and shouts, “Blow Jobs!”
Shit.They’re going to get kicked out before I can make my move. I scan the bar for the bouncers, but though they heard my sister—who didn’t?—they’re just shaking their heads and smiling. I guess even they can see the girls are bringing them business in the guise of men drinking while checking them out, so they’re willing to let a few things slide.
Rose and Trish jump off their stools and stand by the table, hands behind their backs. They motion for Jackie to follow. She does, sliding carefully off her seat and running her hands down her body. No amount of pulling is going to make that dress any longer, but Jackie sure is trying.
Rose starts imitating throwing her head back, but it isn’t until I see the whipped cream topped shots on the table that I realize what’s really happening.Holy, fuck-no.
I stand up, pulling my wallet from my back pocket so I can throw money down for my drink and stop this nonsense.
Fucking Rose. This has to be her idea. No boots for her. She’ll be lucky if I let her keep the damn saddle after this.
A cheer sounds. I glance up in time to see Trish and Rose wiping their mouths with the backs of their hands. I drop some bills next to my beer bottle and maneuver around the bar in their direction. Through a break in the crowd that’s gathered around them, I see Jackie leaning over the edge of the table, her brows drawn in concentration. Then she raises her neck up, aligning her lips directly on top of the whipped cream topped shot. She lowers her face straight down, mouth wide, inhaling the cream and wrapping her full lips around the rim of the shot glass.
I freeze in place.
In one move she tilts her head back, arching her neck and back in the opposite direction, turning the shot glass over 180 degrees, the contents draining into her mouth. I can see her neck working to swallow from where I stand.
Jesus.
She releases her hands from behind her back, plucks the shot glass from her mouth—did I hear a pop?—and bangs it down on the table. Rose and Trish gawk, open-mouthed, as does everyone else in the room. Jackie’s smile is radiant. And I don’t use words like radiant.
When everyone keeps staring, her smile falters.
Until Rose shouts, “Fuck yeah, bitch! That’s how you do a Blow Job!”
The bar erupts in a pandemonium of cheers, leers and beers.
And now I don’t know whether to kill my sister or buy her a fucking pony.
