by Elena Monroe
The conspiracy theories that you love to hate and label your guilty pleasure? Me.
I’m more than starting a war, I start psychological warfare.
That’s why I was determined to keep showing up to stay in the know, and that meant having my ears to the ground at all times. I caused trouble in my own ways like pick-a-hand, skating in the office, and apparently being everyone’s therapist in the love department.
I would take my advice seriously too knowing I was making a whole alphabet happy.
Grabbing a leftover cold burrito off the counter I shouted, “Maisy! I’m gonna be late!”
Maisy jogged into the kitchen already decked out in Lululemon and plucked the earbuds from her ears, “You ready?” She was an early riser who chose to work out before any of us were truly awake with both eyes open.
I followed her to the car and jumped in with my board on my lap, wrapping my mouth around the burrito while making obnoxious sounds making her laugh. “One day you’re gonna have to drive yourself.”
“Why when I have you for morning drop off?” I didn’t do anything for myself and that was the upside of living with everyone on your payroll.
I didn’t have to lift a finger if I didn’t want to. These girls aren't pushovers though, trust me, one time I asked Bella to feed me grapes and she gave me a middle finger.
Anything else? Game. I didn’t even have to jerk myself off if I didn’t feel like it and often didn’t. I had mental tallies of who had the best grip and most expressive eyes.
Maisy dropped me off at the front doors and I dropped my board, breezing into the office while calling security to press the handicap button forcing the doors to open for a smooth entrance. They didn’t even have to answer to know the drill. Walter, the second security guard, pressed the elevator button so I could repeat the process with no need to stop skating.
Skating my way past the front desk I could feel the tension in the office like something happened. I knew better, everyone was more tense and way less fun, making it obvious Vic the Dick is back in full swing from his honeymoon.
Just when I got used to manhandling everyone’s emotions with pick-a-hand.
“Yes, he’s back. No, he’s not in a good mood about it.” Ethan spoke before I could. Wreaking havoc came to a stretching halt and I wasn’t prepared for the goodbye.
“What’s his problem?” I stopped my board, letting it roll into my office and gluing my eyes to an angry Vic who flipped over the desk outside his office with a kind of calm that terrified even me.
“You were supposed to hire an assistant for him while he was on his honeymoon…”
“Well, thanks, Ethan. Just blame the fun guy. Blame the one who keeps shit together and parties it off on the weekends like a normal person.” Slapping my hand to his back I stuck a post-it to his jacket.
“Get the post-it off me, Khaos.”
“Damn, sassy ass moods are going around. Perk up or I’m not gonna let you participate in the afternoon delight we have scheduled.”
When it came to anything I didn’t consider fun, I liked to push it far enough away that I didn’t have to deal with it. I’m here for a good time, not a long time, and none of that time was created for bullshit.
If staying high all the time was an avoidance for taking responsibility, I would have a joint surgically attached to my lips, no problem.
Slumping down in my chair I was waiting for Vic to spoon feed me his attitude. He’s the only man who’s this angry after a honeymoon lasting almost a month.
Like clockwork I heard Ethan trying to create a diversion loud enough for me to hear even though there was no way out of my office except for the windows. Scooting over to the windows in my office chair I examined the risk and shrugged before pushing the window open. With one foot on the ledge, I realized what lengths I would go to in order to avoid responsibility when it wasn’t a celebration.
With a swift yank I felt my whole body be pulled through the window again, landing on my tailbone. Looking up at Vic above me I almost debated using my fluid sexual energy to appeal to a guy who was just married off.
“Oh, hey, back from the honeymoon.”
“Wanna tell me why you couldn’t handle one fucking thing while I was gone?” His shoe was firmly on my stomach and I was taking shallow breaths already.
“Oh, well, that. So, here’s the thing… I interviewed people but turns out they were more qualified for my stuff then your stuff…” Straws, I was grasping at bullshit straws next to the box of bullshit and ambiguous dreams I had of making it out alive when it came to Vic’s anger.
“Fuck up. Pure spoiled brat who can never do your job. Why are you even here?”
Okay, that kind of hurt.
My usual methods weren’t strong enough to endure that kind of hate. Escape, sexy it up, avoid, and deflect - solid ploys until he called me spoiled.
“Excuse me, spoiled? You mean like we all are with our fucking trust funds and yearly salaries rivaling Google’s yearly gross income.”
Sitting up I pushed my back to my desk when Vic squatted down in front of me, forcing my eyes to meld into his. “No, spoiled because you’re the most selfish person I know and you’ll never grow up. I feel bad for your pathetic ass.”
Well, he’s got a talent for it doesn’t he? Ouch.
His words hurt all over and I couldn’t shake them off as much as I still couldn’t shake Birdy off. They were rubber and I was glue… you know how it goes.
Vic left as I listened to his heavy footsteps get further away, the unshed tears blocking my vision as my elbow rested on my knee. Being an acquired taste didn’t mean having people not like you hurt less - it hurt all the same.
They were tied together by guilt, dirty hands, and shared demons while I was sidelined with hands you could eat off of and guilt I avoided. I was on the outside when it came to the horsemen and that was a gut punch I just felt making it all too real.
I didn’t even bother to get up from the floor when I pulled my laptop off the desk and started hacking my way into LinkedIn to find a replacement ASAP before Vic the Dick drove it home that he ran supreme. I browsed the blondes and brunettes looking for someone whose resume matched their looks making it obvious they lied. I’m not being judgmental, I’m just too good at reading people.
Finally landing on a blonde whose resume was too good to be true, I shot her an email signing in as: Krosby, CEO, The Clave. She was bound to respond when I attached the contract, benefits, and orientation for tomorrow at 9 AM.
I inhaled a deep breath, holding it there in my lungs until it burned. I was always trying to prove my worth and overstaying my welcome.
His words bounced around my head when I finally got up from feeling sorry for myself shouting for Ethan while crawling my way into my chair again. He never came running, always at this pace that he knew would piss me off, slow and steady. He was always telling me I moved too fast, so he had to be the one to move slower like he was leading by example.
The only example I was willing to consider was how well he used his tongue right now.
“Yes?” Ethan stood there still sassy with his arms crossed.
I didn’t even speak when I grabbed my own cock through my pants and bit my lip in a way that sent chills down my own spine.
“It’s not even afternoon yet…”
“It’s called brunch… don’t question it.” Undoing my jeans, I let them gape open and my hand sneak inside squeezing my length coming alive under my own touch.
That was all the motivation he needed to drop to his knees with that lusty look in his eyes with his pouty lips. His hands pushed mine out of the way when he pulled the band down on my Calvin Klein briefs and my length bounced out.
He didn’t bother staring too long at the 9-inches of rock-solid dick standing straight up. He knew exactly what I wanted: someone to deal with my fall out. I turned myself on and now I wanted someone to validate it.
Ethan moaned around me while his lips dragged down my lengt
h. My fingers combed through my hair, tugging on the roots as I let my head fall backwards. Clamping my eyes down I let the sound of his mouth working over my lap lull me into a calmer state after being victim to Vic the Dick IRL.
I liked to commemorate all the good moments like if I just got a photo it wouldn’t have an expiration date. Grabbing my phone off the desk I opened Instagram and snapped the photo, zooming in so it was more questionable what I was doing.
#iamamood
#turnedmyselfon
#chaosoverpain
It was the one glimmer of truth, no method acting or playing a part, but the real me in picture form. And the best part? No one knew it was connected to me.
#iamamood had millions of followers and all of them liked the real me yet I couldn’t ever be that person because it didn’t fit the kind of fun I held my life standard to.
Pushing his mouth down further I felt the tip of my dick hit the back of his throat and that was a cherry on top of getting head. Groaning unexpectedly, I swayed my hips meeting his movements, fucking his mouth to my way to sanity.
Having not only numerous girlfriends, but also an agreement on the downlow with Ethan was the best way to breadcrumb my ass back to the prick I portray.
It’s my best role yet.
KHAOS
Post-orgasm bliss should be considered another form of tantric or ayahuasca. I’ve experienced both and neither feel like this.
It’s a compliment wrapped in a hug and really all the love you need. It takes work and faking it only makes the experience better (no one fakes it with me, for the record).
Once Ethan swallowed, I pretty much closed up shop and made it my mission to go deliver the news personally to Vic the Dick that he would have a new assistant tomorrow. Headed for his office I left Ethan on the floor on his knees, bypassing him completely.
It came as a complete shock when I saw the dull pink hair sitting at the desk outside his office like she never left. “Justice?”
“Khaos. Still causing trouble I see,” she sat back crossing her arms, staring at me like I put gum in her hair.
I draw the line at physically impairing anyone. I wanted to make the world pretty not burn it on its axis.
“Your husband is a douchebag. I don’t know what to tell you other than I would suggest an annulment while you still can…”
Vic, like the all-seeing eyes and ears he is, had appeared in his office doorway, “Reason your here?”
I wasn’t one to back down, not ever, I might take a minute for a blowie but that’s my recovery time before I stand up taller. “Did you not go to your fucking sunrise yoga today or something?” Vic took a step closer leaving only a foot between us when I smiled the biggest I could before tacking on, “Your assistant will be here tomorrow at 9 AM. See? Solved without all the violence.”
I watched Justice’s face start paying attention out of the corner of my eyes.
He wanted to play without any rules and I simply agreed to make his decision hurt worse than my ego.
Walking away like I threw a grenade I stepped on my board and skated out of the office. Today was a field trip kind of day. I was itching to go to the skatepark and find the same comfort in the girl wearing clothes too big and landing 180s in a casual way that screams easy.
The skate park was packed all because the humidity was low and the breeze off the water only gave you more height in the bowl. Standing in the crowd I blended in right away, the only place that happened, when I spotted Ears sitting on a bench with guys surrounding him.
Maybe if I watched his movements long enough, I would find who I was really looking for.
Standing on the edge of the bowl a border breezed by me and my eyes followed her. Short, dirty blonde hair, cut off shorts enough to give you a taste of her perky ass, tall socks riding up her long limbs, and a shirt I remembered owning tied up into a knot on her small, toned, waist.
My unicorn was here after all.
Only my unicorn was dressed at least ten levels hotter today than the last time I saw her. This girl wasn’t the tomboy who kissed my girlfriend in front of me - she was a brand-new breed that I liked just as much.
I would have been interested even if she was in boy’s clothes with all her hair pushed up into a beanie…and if she still wasn’t interested in me.
Unicorn.
A plastic bottle flew at my head and I heard a voice come from behind me, “Hey! Don’t look at what you aren’t buying!”
Twisting around I was facing Ears, with his fingers pinching a joint, staring at me like a dad ready to make sure whoever got involved with Birdy was worthy. Trust me, I was worthy. I just couldn’t tell you how much I was really worth. All I can do is show you - hence my obnoxious, over the top, outlandish, and expensive ways.
“I can afford it, calm down,” I shot his way already trying to spot Birdy with my eyes again. Finding her again, I watched her glide over to us stopping short when seeing me. I was the unexpected part of her day, just the way I liked it.
“You…”
“Me?” I eyed her fond of this game, it was one that I used to annoy our parents at Clave events. A question where an answer should be.
“You skate here?” I didn’t mean to let my eyes drag down her, but I mean come on. I’m a guy and those shorts were meant to display her limbs, sadly not just for me.
“Sometimes. I frequent a lot of parks. Nice shirt.”
“I borrowed it from some weirdo who said he wanted it back…” she untied the knot and my eyes were glued to her hands working around the knot with precision, delicate but with enough force to let my imagination run away to sexy recessive parts.
“Must be a real asshole to want his shirt back when it looks so much better on you.”
The interruption came out of nowhere hitting us both like a truck at full speed when we realized the world around us really didn’t fade to black. It was still there, living and breathing, around us as we flirted. “I’m not watching this,” Ears stood up, determined to put distance between him and our tension. As he walked away he shot his fingers at Birdy, “You know what they’ll do to us. We’re too pretty to die young, Birdy.”
My eyes were still following Ears who really wasn’t kidding about the space when I was hit directly in the face with my own shirt. Pulling it down I was almost ready to die if it meant seeing her tits, but she was sporting a bikini top instead.
I was only a little disappointed.
I wasn’t one to make mountains out of molehills.
“You wanna get out of here?” I leaned into her space tossing the shirt between us, “Might wanna put it back on. A little distracting.”
Taking her hand, I didn’t let her decide as I pulled her along with her board rolling against the pavement when I heard a laugh escape her pretty mouth. It was the best sound I had ever heard. Holding my board, I placed her hand on my shoulder doing all the work.
Something I never did.
Her laugh was genuine and full of all the life she probably kept hidden under that hard exterior I was trying to break through. Probably the only thing I let myself be this dedicated to, knowing what was underneath all that fuck off attitude.
Anything too hard and I would lose interest, but she was something different.
I’m ADHD mixed with bad behavior and sexual intentions.
“Where are we going? Is it close?” She asked but I could hear the smile cracking against her mouth.
“Burritos, it’s lunch time… So, Birdy, is that guy your keeper or boyfriend?” I asked, not really wanting the answer. Most people didn’t participate in a polyamorous lifestyle like I did so if he was her boyfriend then I didn’t stand a chance.
Hopping off her board, she walked next to me holding the board in front of her with two hands, “No, gross. I’ve seen him kiss and it’s like watching someone drown. No thanks.”
“Does he know you’re not interested? Seems pretty protective.”
I could see the burrito shop on the boardwalk up ahead
with their small tiki tables and stools lining the outdoor bar. My mouth was already salivating for the entire menu. Even without food I would still consider this day a win - she is single.
“It’s not like that at all and you just met me… might want to pump the breaks.”
“We can play hard to get if you want,” taking a quick sidestep, I landed in front of her.
Her hand pressed against my chest stopping herself from crashing into me with her eyes permanently stuck to the boardwalk, trying not to make eye contact. Standing in front of her I forced her eyes up to mine with my hand planted on the lamp post caging her in.
No part of her was fooling me.
It was easy to be in tune with women when you grow up around five younger sisters and a mom that thinks boundaries are just meant for sports.
“I’m not playing hard to get. I’m being real, maybe you should take some tips.”
Ouch, Vic Jr.
Note to self: don’t let them meet.
I could tell no one had gotten past the hard-to-get stage with her. She was full of insecurities that came off like abandonment issues that I knew of all too well.
No one has this many girlfriends because they like the upkeep. They juggle girlfriends because they’re indecisive or are terrified to be alone.
“Okay, Miss Real, tell me about you. Where did you grow up, how old are you, when is your birthday…?” Letting my voice trail off with endless possibilities I slung my arm around her shoulders pulling her into me.
Holding up two fingers, I spotted Tony, the owner of the burrito shop, when I b-lined it for my favorite table in the corner. I had been coming here since high school and he made the best overstuffed burritos on this side of the United States.
I was still waiting for her to answer me when she rolled her eyes and climbed the bar stool, “You’re relentless. I grew up in LA, I’m 23 and my birthday is November 13th. Least that’s what it says on my birth certificate. Hard to know when your mom throws you in a dumpster.”
My face felt like it fell straight to the tabletop, right off the bone. I couldn’t comprehend a broken family, unloving parents, or even the idea of not knowing your birthday with absolute certainty.