Chapter 9 – The Not-A-Slumber Party

SPOV

While my teeth scraped along the outer shell of his ear, Eric hissed out warningly, “Sookie.”

“Hmmm?” I breathed out, sounding all sex-kittenish and shit.

Lord knows my pussy wanted to play with the snake in his hissy pants.

Managing to somehow both arch into and away from my mouth, he groaned out a single, “Fuck.”

Yep. My thoughts exactly.

A shiver worked its way down his spine right before he loosened my GI Joe Kung Fu grip on the back of his neck and my eyes fell to his lap where I could see the rise of his cobra. But before my mind could rework the Hasbro action movie into a porn flick, Eric’s lips seized mine in a demanding kiss.

And I was pretty sure they were silently demanding we get naked.

Right now.

My lower set of lips were pretty demanding as well, but they were well on their way to seizing up from my overheated engine when he finally pulled back and asked in a panted whisper, “Where are we going, Sookie?”

Down the highway to hell, with his newly acquired EZ Pass allowing him access to my EZ Ass?

Who knew? Friday was the new Hump DAY!

But my earlier insecurities chose that moment to flare up, with me wondering if I could actually let him see me naked. Demanding we remain clothed – while doable when doing the do – wasn’t the preferable option.

Not when I preferred to see him naked.

And feeling his hands ghosting over my skin, while he waited for me – or possibly the Geico camel – to answer his question, made me finally come to a decision.

And my decision was we were going to cum.

Repeatedly, if I had my way.

My mouth opened to form the words. To suggest we take this back to his place since mine was overrun with Y chromosomes therefore his Woody would never have the chance to get near my Bo Peep’s toy chest.

Instead of having a snake in his boot, there was a stake in his pants!

And then maybe I would suggest for our next date we go out and see a grown up movie because I was ruining my own groove with mental Pixar porn.

“Sookie? Are you going to get that?”

With my mind sufficiently submerged underneath the pile of debauchery in my Sex Toy Story, I assumed he’d meant the stake in his pants. So that was where my hands automatically moved to, forgetting we were still in the parking lot of Le Fancy Shmancy, when his giant paws encircled my wrists, keeping me from pawing at him.

We would never get to infinity and beyond that way.

But without a barrel full of monkeys or a battalion of green army men to help me subdue him, I had no choice but to look up at Eric and let him know I was displeased.

In the form of a whimpering mewl because my inner sex kitten was unhappy too.

“Your phone,” he panted, looking at me with wild eyes. “Do you need to get it?”

To call who?

Ghosting-Hands-Over-My-Body Busters?

For a moment, a remix of Ray Parker Jr.’s song rang out in my head. Something about my strange all up in Eric’s neighborhood, but when the 80’s fog lifted from my brain, it allowed my ears to hear something else.

Buckcherry’s ‘Crazy Bitch’.

It too could accurately describe me in this moment, but more accurately, it was my ringtone for Hadley.

The craziest bitch of them all.

She knew I was out on a date with Eric and considering she was the reason why my small clutch was nearly bursting with Magnum sized condoms, I figured she was probably calling for the dick deets. And considering we were more alike than I cared to admit, I couldn’t even bitch her out for assuming I’d found a dark corner to drop my drawers so quickly.

But I didn’t have to decide whether or not to answer when the call went to my voicemail and figured it was a sign from God.

Not just to drop my drawers, but free reign to drop a whole dresser.

“It was just Hadley,” I explained, leaving out my Ethan Allen expectations. A part of me was worried now that we’d both had a chance to catch our breaths, the sex fog would clear from Eric’s head and I wouldn’t get the opportunity to help him clear his other one.

But both sets of lips were already salivating over the thought of how I might go about doing it.

A vacuum at the top and a busted dam down below. I was one giant Hoover-ho whichever way you looked at it.

“Do you want to go back to my place? Pam’s out with her friend tonight, so we should have it all to ourselves.”

The sound of his voice broke through the –hopefully imagined – suctioning noise whirring around in my head, so rather than take the chance of confirming my agreement to his proposal with a giant slurping sound coming from one of my holes, I merely nodded.

And hoped the two thin layers of silk covering my ass would be enough to keep me from sounding like I sharted when I slid across his leather seats, while Eric attempted to get us there at the speed of light.

It turned out he didn’t live too far from me, but his house didn’t look like any of the others in his neighborhood. The suburbs around Shreveport were mostly filled with either cookie-cutter developments, spanning decades in their designs, mixed in with the occasional historic home. But Eric’s was completely modern in style. Sharp and angular.

I wouldn’t have thought twice if he’d told me he picked it up at a high-end Ikea along with some Swedish meatballs.

It didn’t suit my tastes, but I could appreciate the architecture and said as much when he helped me out of his car saying, “Your home is beautiful.”

“Thanks,” he smiled warmly back at me. “I designed it.”

That explained why it was so different from the rest of the homes in his neighborhood, but I didn’t have very long to admire it when he tugged on my hand, pulling my body against his own and said in a sexy as hell voice full of promise-cuity, “I’ll give you the tour later. For now there’s something else I want to map out.”

My lower Manhattan?

A tickertape parade flew out of my panties as he swept me through the front door, but we both came to jarring halt, with me wondering when in the hell he had time to light candles.

They were everywhere.

“Confident much?” I snorted.

How could he have known he’d have an EZ Pass to my EZ Ass before I did?

“I didn’t,” he began to say when we both turned at the sound of a gasp. There stood Pam, clutching a throw pillow to her chest that didn’t hide the fact she was wearing a skimpy negligee, and my eyes went wide seeing who her guest was.

Miriam.

“I…we…I thought you’d be out later,” Pam choked out, looking flustered.

“I thought you’d be out,” Eric countered, with his eyes finally taking in the surroundings.

Candles. Everywhere.

How could he miss them?

“Is the power out?” he asked, looking confused.

“What?” she asked, mimicking her father and looking even more confused, before explaining, “We’re having a sleepover. We…uh…were just telling each other scary stories.”

Uh huh.

Bedtime bow-chicka-wow-wow from the looks of it.

“Oh,” Eric shrugged and seeing his eyes land on the two half empty wine glasses on the coffee table, he added, “Okay.”

Okay?

Okay?

Maybe I was a prude, but I didn’t care how old the boys were. If I came home and found them about to do the bump and grind with their girlfriend, I’d bump their boy bits with my fist and grind their asses into the asphalt. Being married was one thing. Or hell, even if they lived on their own I could probably accept it, but not when they still lived under my roof. Sam’s conception proved you didn’t need a bed to get busy, but Sam’s conception was why I wanted more for them than raising a child when they were still growing up themselves.

But I hadn’t realized Pam was a lesbian. And of course they didn’t have to worry about unplanned pregnancies, so…

Maybe I was just a prude.

“What are you two doing here?” Pam asked, seeming to find her voice once she pulled her robe on.

And already knowing the answer I realized maybe I wasn’t so much of a prude after all.

EPOV

Suddenly feeling flustered myself, knowing what we had been about to do, I turned to face Sookie and saw her staring incredulously back at Pam.

And then me.

And then back at Pam.

Since she didn’t seem to know where to look or what to say, I turned back to Pam and hedged, “We were in the neighborhood and I thought I’d give Sookie a quick tour since she hadn’t been here yet.”

While it was meant to sound like an inconsequential statement of facts, the fact was even I could hear the bullshit meter clanging in the following silence.

So I was grateful when we were saved by the bell.

Or rather, Buckcherry.

“I’m sorry,” Sookie apologized, while rooting around for her phone and sounded exasperated explaining, “It’s Hadley.” Grabbing ahold of it, she managed to answer the call before it could go to voicemail and asked, “Who died?”

She listened for only a moment before making the rest of us jump when she shrieked, “What?”

I no longer cared about how things looked and moved closer to Sookie, wondering what was wrong when she yelled out, “NO! I didn’t tell Sam he could throw a party while I was out throwing one in my panties!”

She instantly looked mortified and tried to curl in on herself, closing her eyes and mumbling just loud enough for me to hear, “Fuck my life.”

I had to bite my lower lip to keep from laughing out loud and I didn’t bother to look over at Pam when I put my arm around Sookie to lead her out of the house saying, “We’re leaving. You girls have fun.”

Once I got Sookie buckled in the car, I climbed in on the driver’s side only to hear her say into her phone, “He’s done! DONE! He’s so done, by the time I let him out of the house again he’ll be old enough to collect social security!”

She ended the call, while I started driving towards her house, and snarled, “I’m gonna kill him!”

“Should we go back for my shovel?” I asked, hoping to lighten her mood some before we got there.

Poor Sam.

She didn’t seem to be able to see anything beyond the red rage in her eyes, while she seemingly muttered to herself, “I’m gonna kill him. Tar and feather him. Dip him in a vat of honey and leave him out for a pack of wild bears. Wait! Do bears travel in packs? No…but wolves. Wolves travel in packs. Are there wolves in Louisiana?”

And finally turning to face me, she asked hopefully, “And do they like honey? You know what? Don’t answer that. You just get me home while I practice my lines for when he goes missing.”

I kept watching, completely smitten and even more amused, when she morphed her face into a sad yet horrified expression as she shouted, “DINGOES ATE MY BABY!”

I couldn’t hold back anymore and laughed – loudly – before looking back at her and playfully correcting, “It’s ‘A dingo’s got my baby.’”

“Pfft,” she waved me off and added, “I’m no Meryl Streep, but I like to think I could kick some vampire ass. Dingoes Ate My Baby is the name of the band from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

“We’re playing Trivial Pursuit one day,” I informed her.

She smiled and added, “And we’ll play for clothing. Strip Pursuit.”

Oh…I’d be pursuing her alright.

But before I could extend our play on words and tell her there was nothing trivial about getting her naked, she looked contrite and said, “I’m so sorry Eric. For telling Pam about the canceled party in my panties and for Sam being a shit. He somehow managed to throw a party worthy of the Shreveport PD’s attention in under an hour. I…I’m just so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I offered in a soothing tone. “He’s still just a kid, Sookie. We all do dumb things at that age. I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

But perhaps my words were spoken to soon because just as they left my lips, we turned into her neighborhood. And given the way the night sky was lit up in red and blue strobe lights right where I knew her house to be, signaled something was amiss.

They certainly weren’t signaling for Batman.

Sookie’s eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched, watching as the spectacle grew closer. I felt bad for both her and Sam, but I had a feeling everything would be alright when I heard her whisper, “When there’s something strange in the neighborhood, who ya gonna call?”

“Ghostbusters?”

“More like Assbusters,” she growled.

Poor Sam. He was just plain old busted.

I’d been eighteen once and I’d done stupid things too, but telling Sookie I was dumb enough to play Russian Roulette with my dick – resulting in Pam’s birth when I was only twenty – didn’t seem like the smart play here. She was hopping mad – literally, seeing as how she was hopping around in her seat with her fists clenched – so even planting the seed Sam may have planted his seed tonight seemed counterproductive.

Just like his impromptu party was counterproductive in my getting to plant anything of mine into his mother.

So maybe I didn’t feel so bad for him after all.

There was no room to park in her driveway or on either side of the street within four houses of hers. Those cars weren’t there when we’d left an hour earlier, so I assumed they were part of the party crowd. Since the patrol cars were taking up the rest of the road in the middle, I ended up parking nearly a block away with us having to walk the rest of the way.

Or – in Sookie’s case – stomp.

If I thought she was hot before, now she was positively on fire.

I doubted there was anything I could say to make her calm her down, so I let her march down the street unhindered and hoped her foray into making potholes with her heels would do her some good in venting some steam. Besides, she was sexy when she was pissed off.

So I made a mental note to pick a fight with her in the near future when we would have the opportunity to make up.

As we got closer to her house, I noticed her front lawn was littered.

With frightened looking teenagers, plastic Solo cups, and beer cans.

Poor Sam.

I vaguely noticed a pleased looking Bill lurking in the shadows of his yard, watching the spectacle, but my attention was quickly grabbed by a booming, “COME OUT WITH YER HANDS UP!”

Everyone jumped at the sound, but recognizing the voice, my eyes immediately turned to the patrol car where the sound came from to see a jubilant Jason sitting in the front seat, with the car’s mic in his hand. I sped up my steps to go get him out of there when Trey ran out of the house, with a Nerf gun in each hand, yelling, “You’ll never take me alive, copper!”

A barrage of foam darts rained down on me and had it been another time and place, I would’ve gladly joined in the fun. But seeing Sookie’s eyes shoot fire their way made me keep my inner robber to myself and scoop Trey up in one arm before pulling Jason from the patrol car with the other. I carried them into the house like two sacks of pajama clad potatoes tucked up under each arm, passed a very pissed off Sookie, and straight into their room.

“Now’s not the time, fellas,” I warned. “Mom is mad.”

Their once clean floor was covered once more in toys and clothes, but before I could suggest maybe they should clean their room to get back on their mother’s good side, Jason piped up with, “But she’s mad at Sam. We’re free and clear for at least an hour!”

“Uh huh,” I smirked. “I don’t think now is the time to test her patience or your theoretical timeline. Why don’t you two clean up in here, while I go and check on things?”

Like if Sam still had a pulse.

“But we’re starving,” Trey groaned, like he was in fact starving.

“Didn’t you eat yet?”

I’d been standing there when she handed over the cash to Sam to pay for the pizzas she’d ordered before we’d left, so I was surprised when Jason grumbled, “No. Those turds ate it all before we could get any.”

It was already after eight and seeing as how Sookie and I hadn’t eaten anything either – not that I would’ve cared one bit had I gotten to nibble on her – I was feeling hungry myself. So I shrugged and said, “Come on. I’ll fix you guys something while we wait for your mom to finish up with whatever she’s doing.”

Like murdering Sam.

And then we could all go and bail her out of jail.

When we arrived in the kitchen, both boys took on a sourpuss seeing the empty pizza boxes sitting on the counter, so I set them aside and opened the fridge asking, “What are you in the mood for?”

It was chock full of food, so they had plenty to choose from. Both boys came to stand on either side of me, staring at the contents, when Jason eventually shook his head and muttered, “First world problems. Do I want the leftover meatloaf or the spaghetti?”

“Buh-sghetti!” Trey chimed in, getting Jason’s indifferent shrug of approval.

Buh-sghetti, it is.

We were all sitting around the kitchen table with warmed up plates of spaghetti in front of us, having fallen into a not-so-silent contest of who could slurp the noodles into our mouths the loudest, when Hadley walked into the room.

“Poor Sook,” she grinned at me. “I hope you’re not always such a messy eater.”

And I ended up making a bigger mess when I choked on the food in my mouth, watching as she took a step behind the boys so they wouldn’t see when she formed a ‘V’ with her hands and placed them over her crotch. She followed up that charming move by forming another ‘V’ with two of her fingers on one hand and stuck her tongue through the middle.

Note to self.

No double dates with Sookie’s cousin when food is involved. And definitely no charades.

While I pondered whether or not dirty sign language was a familial trait, once my throat was finally cleared of food, I looked up at her, feeling the heat in my cheeks, as I smiled and only said, “Hadley. Nice to see you again.”

“Liar,” she laughed. “I’m sure you’d much rather be looking at something else right about now, but it’s better to get it out of the way sooner than later.” Spreading her arms out on either side of her body, she grinned and said, “Welcome to our dysfunctional dystopia. Be sure to keep your arms and legs inside at all times and enjoy the ride.”

I already was.