Page 59 of Whiskey Throttle
“I need to run something by you.”
“Okay.”
I pause, still unsure how much to admit.
“Have you ever been with someone who totally disarms you?”
Massimo snorts.
“Bro. I’ve been with people who disrobe me, disown me, and one girl tried to disinfect me. What kind of disarming we talking about?”
I laugh for effect, but it fades quickly. I pick at the trim of the leather chair. My ankles cross in front of me as my sleep pants stick to my legs. Normally, I sleep naked, but last night felt so off that I put them on. No shirt though. Let Babs drool over my tats like she did a bit last night.
Girls love them.
Women are a bit different.
Love or hate.
No in between.
“Like . . . it’s not going how I thought. I usually know the rhythm of things. The pattern. This weekend, I had a plan in mind, but now I’m unsure of what to do. I’m trying not to screw it up, but I might already have.”
Massimo goes quiet for a second, which is rare when it’s just the two of us. Then he huffs into the phone.
“Well looky here. Holli found a girl who disarms him. Never thought I’d see the day.”
He’s not wrong. Even if I deserve the ribbing, I’m not up for it.
“I knew I shouldn’t have called you.”
I’m about to hang up, wondering if I should call Diego next.
“Hold up. You know I can’t not give you a bit of shit when you call asking like that. Don’t be such a pussy over pussy.”
I scrub my hand down my face, adjust my semi-hard cock when thinking of her hand in my hair, shoving my face into her pussy.
“Shut the fuck up. She’s not like that. Not this one.”
He chuckles. I hate it. I need serious advice, and he’s just bullshiting. Slightly better than Em at this point.
“Okay, okay, so touchy about her.”
“Yeah, so are you going to help me out or not?”
The little amount of patience I had when starting this call is almost gone.
“Chill, bruh. You’re acting all bitchy because you like this mystery woman. That’s what this is.”
“I didn’t say that.”
I’m immediately defensive. Sure, I like her. I know that, but I don’t like how obvious it is to him. I know Massi’s had girlfriends in the past, or should I say, they did. Not sure how a girl could ever tolerate Em long after her orgasm, but who knows. I don’t care about that stuff.
“You didn’t have to. You’re calling me at seven a.m. while Em is exorcising the mezcal worm.”
There’s a muffled yell in the background that sounds suspiciously like “GET THE TWEEZERS!”
Massimo ignores it.
