Page 14 of Torrid Love
She takes a step back, pulls down her super-short red tube dress and flashes a pair of double-enormous tits. Since she has a tiny frame, her tits look like giant inflated balloons.
What the hell?
There’s a rumble around us. From the look of shock on guests’ faces, they’re as stunned as I am.
“Can you sign them?” she asks. She even hands me a Sharpie. Not that I know where she was hiding it.
Clemensia’s question is one I used to get all the time at the height of my rock star career. Since I’ve retired, I spend my time behind a desk. This is no longer part of my life.
“You’re kidding?” my eyes flicker up to Dom. She’s shooting daggers at me now.
Fuck.
This is not how I’d envisioned our encounter after not seeing each other for so many weeks.
“Of course I’m not kidding,” Clemensia says, “Please will you sign my boobs. They’re big enough, it’s not like you can miss them.” She shakes her torso, sending her tits swinging from side to side.
“I don’t sign body parts,” I tell her.
Well, I should say I don’t anymore.
You wouldn’t believe the crazy requests we used to get from groupies in our heydays. One woman begged our lead singer, Beckett Christensen, to sign the inner walls of her pussy. Not a word of a lie. He was never able to downplay that one.
“I can even beg, if you’d like,” Clemensia insists.
Talk about overly aggressive. And delusional.
“Isaid,I don’t sign body parts.”
“Oh, come on. Roderick Wolfe is up for all sorts of nastiness.”
“Nastiness? Don’t you have any decency?” I snap.
I never thought I’d see the day where I’d say that to a half-naked woman.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” she purrs.
Before I can respond, Clemensia pulls her dress over her head and drops it on the floor next to her.
My jaw drops.
The music stops.
The crowd gasps.
A collective round of,‘Holy fucks’,replaces the latest club hit.
Not only is Clemensia naked, but two silver hoop rings are dangling low from her pussy, staring at me.
Jesus Christ.
“I told you it would be worth your while. I’m all yours, big boy.”
I used to live for those words. Coming from her, they sound so crass.
No thanks.
“Show a modicum of class,” I tell her.
