Avoiding Amy Jackson

by N. A. Alcorn

  My fury has taken over my brain. I wave my purple pleasure sword in the air like a god damn light saber as I continue to threaten everyone in the airport. A light bulb goes off in my head and I remember one of my favorite movie quotes of all time…

  “I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let my lube go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

  I hear a woman in the crowd gasp in horror as she clutches her toddler to her chest. She shoots me with the nastiest look possible. By her facial expression alone, you would think I was up here clubbing baby seals while singing Louis Armstrong’s It’s a Wonderful Life. Yeah, the “I will kill you” comment might have been a little hasty, but I tend to get worked up in the heat of the moment.

  “You! Take your judgmental attitude and your little fuck trophy”— I gesture to the child she has in her arms with the purple dick—“and move along! Nothing to see here, folks! Nothing but a woman with her dildo who’s looking for her missing bottle of lube!” I holler and then decide it’s in my best interest to jump down and walk towards James.

  His facial expression is a combination of shock and hilarity. Bystanders watch us with various emotions. Loathing. Disgust. Entertainment. And my personal favorite—hatred. The women I pointed my rubber cock at are seriously hating on me right now, whispering back and forth to each other, and pointing their judgy fingers in my direction. The fuck trophy comment obviously went over like a lead balloon with this uptight crowd.

  James hands me both cups of coffee and grabs my suitcase. “You can bet your conservative assess we will find out who took her lube. And when we do, there will be hell to pay!” he shouts towards the crowd I just drew with my dildo-pointing rant

  My mouth is agape. James just managed to surprise the shit out of me. I stare at him in astonishment.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get out of here,” he instructs as he drags my neon pink suitcase behind him. He’s a smart man and is most likely getting us the hell out of the airport before someone has security grab us for questioning. I pick my jaw up off of the floor and follow his lead, clutching my purple cock to my chest and hurrying my steps to catch up with him.

  “So is that even your dildo?” he asks as he peers out of the corner of his eyes. His muscular legs continue their long strides towards the parking garage.

  “Yep.”

  “Did it really have a giant bottle of lube attached to it?”

  “Nope.”

  I glance up to see him smiling and shaking his head. “So did you really just quote Liam Neeson from the movie Taken back there? And not only did you quote it to perfection, you managed to weave your own personal touch with the addition of the lube.”

  “Taken is one of the best movies of all fucking time. I couldn’t have been more proud of myself as I was in that moment, waving my purple cock around, threatening to sodomize those snooty snootches,” I declare as James puts my luggage in the trunk of his SUV.

  He lets out a barking cough as he opens the passenger’s side door, urging me to get inside. “God, you’re ridiculous. Please get your ass in the car before airport security takes you back inside for questioning. I’m sure you threatening to kill and dildo-rape women and children over a fictional bottle of lube didn’t go over to well with TSA. And seriously, I think that the ‘until your dead grandmother feels it’ statement might have been taking it a little too far.” James cocks an eyebrow at me as I slide into the passenger’s seat.

  “I really wish you could have gotten that precious moment on video.”

  “Why doesn’t this surprise me?” he asks as he closes the passenger’s side door and walks around the front of his SUV.

  Honestly, I’m not sure how I can still manage to amaze James with my continual ability to word-vomit everywhere I go. One thing I do know is that James just pushed himself up a notch on my friend’s list. I really don’t know many people who would have defended me and my purple dildo’s honor like that in front of a crowd of strangers.

  Ellen would have.

  Lizzy would have been too embarrassed.

  And now James, well… He just proved himself to be best-friend material.

  Any time you’re finding yourself questioning your friendship with someone, all you have to do is ask yourself this one question…

  Would they stand up for you and your rubber cock while simultaneously threatening to raise hell if someone didn’t own up to stealing your giant bottle of lube?

  If you can answer yes to this question, then that person is fucking best-friend material.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Pants with an elastic waistband are a girl’s best friend.” - Amy

  A new year means another attempt at getting my ass to the gym on a regular basis. Lizzy’s crush on her personal trainer—which she still refuses to admit—has done some serious wonders for her body. She’s toned in all the right places and her ass could convince even the straightest women to give muff diving a shot. Hell, even I’m attracted to her ass.

  “Are you sure you want to go to the gym today? Weren’t you just there yesterday?” I put on my pink Nike cross trainers, tying the laces tightly.

  “Yes, I’m sure, and you’re not backing out of this one. You promised you would go with me today.” Lizzy stands in front of me while her foot taps impatiently and her hands rest on her hips.

  I sigh loudly in aggravation. “God, you’re a serious pain in my ass. Isn’t Ryder going to be there? Wouldn’t you rather him work you out than be stuck with my clumsy ass running on the treadmill?” I stand up, adjusting the waistband of my black leggings and fiddling with the edge of my tank top.

  “He has clients today. And don’t think I didn’t notice the little innuendo you threw in there. Ryder and I are not like that.” Her expression is of pure annoyance as she tucks a piece of her auburn hair behind her ear.

  “I meant for you to hear that, and I also think it’s time you stop bullshitting yourself. You can deny it all you want, but you know as well as I do that you want him. Like really want him. I’d lay money on the fact that you’ve gotten your rocks off fantasizing about his sausage being all up in your meat curtains—several times.” A sly smile spreads across my lips as I wait for her reaction.

  Lizzy’s eyes are full of irritation, and the look on her face has me stifling a laugh.

  “First of all, I am not divorced yet. Secondly, there is nothing between me and Ryder!” she shouts loudly, her voice ricocheting throughout our apartment. “And did you really just say, ‘his sausage in my meat curtains’? Could you be anymore crude, Amy?”

  I hold up one finger with a cheeky grin on my face. “One, I know I’m an asshole. That’s already been established.” I hold up two fingers. “And two, crude is my middle name. And for the record, I could have gone much worse than sausage and meat curtains. I’m like a walking thesaurus when it comes to alternative words for cock and pussy.”

  Lizzy shakes her head in exasperation. “God, you’re impossible. You and Ellen are like two peas in an inappropriate pod.”

  I bark out a hard laugh. “I know, right? We’re fucking awesome.”

  I head for the door, throwing on my track jacket and grabbing my keys. “Come on, workout queen. Let’s get our asses to the gym!” I feign excitement and fist-pump my keys into the air. “I can’t wait to have an asthma attack on the treadmill!” I exclaim as I walk out of our apartment.

  ****

  Fifteen minutes into my jog on the treadmill, I’m panting like a dog and sweat is dripping down my face. Why did I let her talk me into this again? I glance over at Lizzy, who resides on the treadmill next to me and doesn’t look a bit out of breath. Her long auburn ponytail sways
gently back and forth as her tight ass and long legs glide leisurely like a fucking gazelle.

  Bitch.

  There isn’t a hint of sweat on her. She’s not even glistening, whereas I’ve got sweat pouring out of every pore on my body. Lizzy smiles happily at me and I give her another evil scowl.

  Bitch. Bitch. Bitch.

  “Are you going to keep shooting me dirty looks during this entire workout?” She inquires without any difficulty while she continues to run gracefully in smooth, fluid movements.

  “Uh…yeah,” I pant heavily and wipe the perspiration off of my forehead with a towel. “I pretty much…hate you…right now,” I gasp out. I hate this. I hate running on treadmills. My legs and ass are burning and my eyes keep darting around for the nearest chair.

  “You’re going to thank me for this in like a month when you’re feeling like a million bucks because of all of the incredible things you’re doing for your body. Working out does wonders for not only your physical well-being, but also your mental well-being too,” she states before increasing the speed and incline on her treadmill.

  I see my time hit twenty minutes and I pull the emergency stop cord without a second thought. My treadmill comes to a stop and I lean over, placing my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. “You sound like a god damn infomercial.”

  Lizzy huffs out a laugh as she continues to run like the wind. I contemplate pushing her off of the treadmill for a brief second before I hear my cell phone vibrate inside the plastic holder. I grab it and find a text from James.

  James: Interested in watching a move and eating some Chinese takeout?

  I quickly type back a response.

  Me: Hell yes. I’m in workout hell with Lizzy. I just ran twenty minutes on the treadmill and

  the promise of food is the only thing that might prevent me from tackling her to the floor.

  My phone vibrates with his response.

  James: LOL. I’m sorry I missed that. Your place in about 30 minutes?

  I quickly reply.

  Me: Yes. See ya in 30.

  I notice Lizzy smirking at me.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” I tilt my head to the side, appraising the expression on her face.

  She shrugs her shoulders as her long legs continue to run elegantly. “I was trying to figure out who had you so excited. Your smile was nearly blinding me over here.”

  I crinkle my nose and forehead as I stare back at her. “I wasn’t smiling.”

  “Yeah, you were. Why don’t you just go ahead and stop bullshitting yourself and admit that you were just texting your friend, James, and stop denying the fact that you want him. Like really want him.” Lizzy flashes a smug grin as she throws my words back at me.

  I give her my favorite finger and then busy myself with gathering my belongings. As I put my track jacket back on and wrap my messenger bag around my shoulder, I notice a certain young stud headed our way. Ryder, in all of his sexy personal trainer glory, walks towards Lizzy with a huge grin on his face, his perfect white teeth on full display. I carefully watch Lizzy’s expression, and she immediately smiles and appears giddy when she notices him. This girl is in some serious denial when it comes to her attraction for Ryder.

  Serious denial.

  If her snatch could jump out of her pants, I think that thing would start humping Ryder right here in front of everyone at the gym. I cough into my hand a few times as I whisper, “Denial. Bullshitter. You’re a bullshitter.” Lizzy glowers at me and I can’t hold back the few chuckles that escape my lips.

  “Well, hello, ladies. It’s a pleasure to see you here tonight.” Ryder stands next to Lizzy’s treadmill and appraises her with appreciative eyes.

  “Hi,” Lizzy voices with a slight nervous tone. Her cheeks flush crimson.

  “Hey, Ryder. You’re just the man I needed to see.” Lizzy mouth is agape after she hears those words come out of my mouth. She pauses her treadmill workout, staring at me with annoyance.

  “Really? Why’s that?” Ryder asks curiously.

  “Well, seeing as my ass is burning from trying to keep up with this hot lady over here…” I nod my head towards Lizzy. “I was wondering if you would mind taking her home tonight. I know she’s going to be here for at least another hour, if not longer, and I’m starving.”

  “Of course. I’d love to. You wanna grab a bite to eat afterwards?” His attention is back to Lizzy as he continues to watch her run, his eyes occasionally roaming her body.

  “Amy.” Lizzy’s tone is serious. “I can’t believe you just put him on the spot like that. He probably has better things to do than drive me home after he’s been at the gym all day with clients.”

  “Actually, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do more than hang out with you tonight.” Ryder gives Lizzy an irresistible panty-dropping smile. I wasn’t even the recipient of that sexy smile and I think my panties are a little wet right now. Damn he’s good.

  Lizzy nervously tucks a piece of her auburn hair behind her ear and smiles coyly. “Okay. As long as you’re sure you don’t have anything better to do.”

  He smiles warmly at her. “I don’t have anything better to do.”

  She’s exactly the person he wants to do.

  “Okay.” His entire presence has reduced her to speaking monosyllabic sentences.

  “Okay, well you two have fun. I’ve got a shitload of Chinese takeout with my name on it. Thanks again, Ryder. Bye, Lizzy.” I waggle my eyebrows at her and she scolds me with a pointed stare. God, she’s just too easy to get riled up. I pull my keys from my messenger bag and wave to both of them before hauling ass out of the gym.

  Twenty minutes on the treadmill… I guess that’s better than nothing, right? I’m sure once I eat my weight in crab rangoon, sweet and sour chicken, and fried rice, it’ll be like my ass never even stepped foot in the gym. Eh, fuck it.

  I like food and my Italian roots make it genetically impossible for me to resist any type of delicious meal. It’s a good thing I have a decent metabolism and my curves are in all the right places or else I’d be walking around with a serious muffin top and a jiggly cottage cheese ass.

  I make it to my apartment in record time and manage to take a quick shower before James shows up. I throw on my most comfortable pair of flannel pajama pants, fleece socks, and a soft grey Henley. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all of the Chinese takeout food marathons I’ve participated in, always wear pants with elastic. No way in hell will I allow a pair of tight pants constrict my stomach’s ability from consuming an ungodly amount of scrumptiousness.

  I hear a few soft knocks on the door and open it to find James holding two brown bags full of food. “Hell yes!” I shout enthusiastically as I grab the bags from him. I make a beeline for the kitchen and start rummaging through the goodies.

  “A little excited about the food, are we?”

  I nod excitedly and let out a little squeal when I find my crab rangoon.

  He laughs and opens up a few of the white takeout containers. “Dishes or just use chopsticks and eat out of the containers?”

  My brow creases in feigned shock. “Is that even a question?”

  “Containers and chopsticks it is then.” He smirks at me with that damn sexy mouth of his.

  I want to lick his face.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?” he questions with confusion.

  “What? I wasn’t looking at you weird.” I avoid his eyes and continue picking which containers I want to claim as my own. I quickly change the subject off of the fact that I was staring at him like I wanted to eat him for dinner. “I think you ordered one of everything off of the menu.” I pat his shoulder as I brush past him into the living room. “I like your style, James!” I yell behind me. I hear his chuckle from the kitchen as I sit down on the couch.

  30 minutes later…

  “I think you’re going to have to roll me to my bed before you leave here tonight,” I groan to Jame
s as I pat my full belly. I’ve managed to eat more than my weight in fried rice and I’m mentally congratulating myself on my awesome food-consuming abilities. I’m stretched out on the couch, my feet in James’s lap as we watch the scary movie he rented from the Redbox. I’m not generally a fan of scary movies, but I’ve been dying to see the movie Paranormal Activity. I mentioned this to James over two weeks ago, so I’m actually surprised he even remembered. I guess that’s the kind of things friends do, right?

  Of course it is.

  James grins at me as he slides my fleece socks off and starts to rub my feet. I purr in gratitude. Dear god, this man has some great hands. They’re big and strong and manage to work out all the kinks on my tired soles. These poor babies took a pounding on the treadmill tonight, so a foot massage is much appreciated.

  “I swear you have magic fingers,” I moan out without even thinking.

  He gives me a wicked grin. “You have no idea, sweetheart.”

  I lightly kick his stomach with my foot and give him a sharp look. “Knock it off, dickhead.”

  “What?” He raises his hands and feigns innocence.

  I giggle a little at his awful acting abilities. “Don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His eyes shine with laughter.

  “Yeah, you definitely do, and get those hands back to working on my poor feet.” I wiggle my toes at him. He starts kneading his fingers into the soles of my feet and my body practically melts into a pile of gooey relaxation from the feel.

  “There ya go. That’s the spot.” I encourage him with another moan as my eyes close involuntarily.