Fuck Valentine's Day

by C. M. Stunich

  I turned the picture around and around trying to find some sort of identifying information. There was none. Except for the address in the card. I sat back on the stool and examined the photo for realism. Was this thing Photoshopped? There was a man's hand wrapped around the base of the cock and little droplets of moisture from a shower or lube or something. I, myself, was getting wet just looking at the damn thing. That was even before I noticed the little silver ring through the skin near the head of Mystery Man's cock. It was a Prince Albert.

  “I'm coming,” Genevieve started shouting behind me, and I took that as my cue to grab my quickie breakfast, my cards, and my penis pic and get the hell out of there.

  I found Quinn Prentis hitting on some girls near the door to our lit class.

  The act infuriated me to no end. Told you to avoid this prick, my rational mind said as she stuck her tongue out at me. I had the picture clutched in my hand and marched right up to the biggest bad boy on campus.

  “Think you're such a stud?” I said, and the two girls he was flirting with moved away like I was poisoned. I mean, come on, I wasn't that scary was I? Five foot nine, thin as a rail, brown hair, brown eyes, I was just your average girl. Maybe they saw something in my face that day that told them to back the fuck off, maybe it was instinctual, some old forgotten woman vs. woman thing? I have no fucking clue.

  Quinn held up his hands and sucked in his lower lip, big, blue eyes all wide and innocent. I almost swooned, but I held my ground.

  “Hey there, beautiful.”

  “It's Andi,” I said, acidic tongue wagging at full force. “So, you just leading me on or what? Why ask me out? Give me chocolates?”

  “I'm just hanging out. You know I was waiting for you, right? Didn't see you in bio, so I thought something was wrong.”

  “Uh huh,” I said, about to thrust the picture in his face and demand that he explain himself. Then he stepped forward and his should-be-illegal-because-it's-so-tight T-shirt rode up his belly and flashed me wet worthy abs and a trickle of dark hair along with some brightly colored tattoos. Tattoos that were most certainly not in my penis picture.

  “I'm all yours for tonight if you come clubbing with me. I won't even look at another woman. Pinky promise?” he asked, and I stood there like a deer in the headlights. If Quinn didn't send the pic, who did? I had just sort of assumed it was him. I mean, who else would've done it? Besides, it was pierced. Don't all bad boys have pierced junk?

  “Um,” I began as he moved closer to me and sent the hairs on my arms standing to attention. He moved like a panther, all sleek and muscular and deadly. I almost drooled. Maybe he took it before he was tatted?

  “What have you got in your hand, beautiful?” he asked, apparently allergic to using my first name. I took a step back and flicked my eyes back and forth. Did I have a stalker? Was he watching me carry his picture even now? Masturbating to it? And why was that idea making me so wet between the thighs?

  “Is your dick pierced?” I blurted, and Quinn paused. Then he stood there and stared at me with a blank facial expression that made me sick to my stomach. I kept myself from bolting by attaching my eyes to his belly button. Now that, that was pierced. My Mystery Man's wasn't. Shit.

  “Um, no,” Quinn said, and that was that. “Save you a seat?” I turned around and ran all the way to the parking lot.

  I plugged the address into my phone and drove my old, beat-up Geo Metro through town like a crazy person. When I arrived at my destination, I found out that it was actually a gym, and not just any regular, old gym. It was a boxing gym. It was big and old and crumbly and tough looking. I sat there for the longest time glancing between the picture and the gym, watching men come out in droves, women, too. They were all tough, ripped, and sexy, plus they were soaked in sweat. How was I supposed to know who my stalker was?

  I swallowed my anxiety and stuffed the picture into my purse, keeping only the card clutched in my hand. I got a lot of stares (probably because I was wearing a pink sweater instead of a black sports bra) as I made my way inside and came face to chest with a massive, hulking man with a permanent scowl and – get this – a scar down the right side of his face. How cliché is that?

  “Can I help you?” he asked as I tried to peer around him at the various punching bags, rings, and exercise equipment. I don't know what I was looking for. I mean, it's not as if my Mystery Man's Prince Albert was going to be displayed for all the world to see. I'm not sure what I was expecting to see or do there, but I had to ask. I mean, you would, too, right?

  “Yeah, um, I'm looking for someone.” I held out the Valentine's Day card and the big man looked down at it with a grunt. When he crossed his arms over his chest, I seriously thought his muscles were going to explode through the skin on his arms. They were as big around as my thighs!

  “Name?”

  “Well, I don't exactly know that … ” I said as I dropped my hand to my side and tried not to crinkle my card. It was my only clue. Why I cared, and why I was seeking this guy out and not filing criminal stalking/indecent exposure charges against him was kind of beyond me. Something about it was intriguing in a kind of weird, fucked up way. Guess I was just the world's kinkiest virgin.

  “What's he look like? He the guy from the card?” I snorted and the big man shifted, giving me a whiff of jockstrap and old socks. Eww. I tucked some errant strands of hair behind my ear and tried to remain calm. So what if a good dozen men and a handful of women were checking out my ass from the free weight section of the gym? I'm wearing my good jeans, so the view should check out okay.

  “No, um, he's not this guy.” I lifted up the card and examined Cupid. Damn. “I mean, I don't think so. I guess, I wish he was this guy, you know?” I laughed, and it echoed strangely off the cement floors and brick walls. Nobody else joined in. I took a deep breath and focused on my task. “See, I don't exactly know what this man looks like. I … ” Scar Face's nostrils flared, and I took an involuntary step back. What was I supposed to say? That my guy had his junk pierced and abs like rocks? They've been in the locker room, so maybe if you … Stopped that train of thought before I started going on about this seven inch cock in my picture and how I really, really wanted to meet it. “Okay, so I think I'll just go and come back later.” The man snorted through his nose like a bull, and I turned on my heel and booked it out of there.

  When I got to my car, there was a note taped to the driver's side window.

  Glad you came to find me. Want another clue? Call Me. This was followed, of course, by a phone number. There was a conversation that played out in my head that went something like this:

  Rational Andi: Are you fucking serious? Call the cops and turn this bitch in BEFORE he cuts off your head and hangs it in his living room as a light fixture.

  Horny Andi: This is just a silly prank, Rational Andi. Don't be such a cock blocker! Let's have some fun for once. If it wasn't for you, I'd have gotten laid by Jake Tandor senior year.

  Rational Andi: Jake was a douche! You're so lucky I protected your cherry berry from that prick.

  Horny Andi: I don't have a cherry. I masturbate with an eight inch rubber cock.

  Rational Andi: I meant your metaphysical cherry, Gawd.

  Horny Andi: I'm shutting you out. I think we have an unhealthy relationship.

  Rational Andi: Go fuck yourself.

  And then I dialed the number. The phone rang for awhile and then went to voice mail. Disappointed and in no way willing to leave a message, I hung up, vowing to try again later. Seconds after, a text arrived.

  Check under your favorite chair in calculus tomorrow. Signed, Your Secret Admirer

  I stared at it for a long while, thoroughly convinced that secret admirer was way less creepy than stalker.

  Rational Andi: Lampshade.

  I ignored her and went about my day with the dick pic in my back pocket.

  I woke to a very loud, very raucous knock at my door. I rolled over and groaned, assuming that Gen and her boy toy were busy fuckin
g against it. Wouldn't have been the first time.

  “Andi, there's some super hot guy here to see you.” And then she gave me a very gracious five seconds to react to the news, roll over and squint at the door as it opened and in walked Quinn. He was wearing a black tank that showed off his beefy shoulders and various skull tattoos. He had plugs in his lower earlobes today and a beanie on his head, covering up his Mohawk do. Little bits of red hair stuck out the front like bangs.

  “Sorry,” he said as he made a sort of grimacing face at my current state, all sleepy eyed and disoriented. “But your friend said you were in desperate need of something and that I should come up here?” I tried to glare at Genevieve, but she was already gone, probably scouting out her next boy. Or girl. Gen swung both ways.

  “Um,” I struggled to sit up and felt a strange pull in my shoulder. Pain rocketed through my body making me scream out in pain. It felt like Scar Face was behind me, twisting my arm into a very awkward, very uncomfortable position.

  “Shit!” Quinn said as he leapt to my rescue and … unhooked … my … handcuffs. He held the furry purple plastic cuffs in one hand and stared at me with his baby blues. I was sitting with my teeth clenched, arm lying across my knees as I tried to breathe through my nose. I fell asleep with them on again. Masturbating to … the dick pic. Wow, this is awkward.

  “There's a rational explanation to all of this,” I explained as Quinn stared at me and a rictus grin spread across his smooth face. He might've been the 'bad boy' archetype, but he didn't have quite as nice a face as Preston, not as manly. Quinn had a rounder jaw and smoother cheeks whereas Preston had a nice, strong jaw and bones sculpted by the Gods. And you're comparing them why? Why are you even thinking about Preston Ellis?

  “You like to get your kink on, right?” Quinn said and then he kissed me. Just leaned over the bed and kissed me. He started off with a bang, too. There was none of that sweet, romance-y stuff where we like, tasted each other's souls or anything. He just shoved his hot, slick tongue in my mouth and started Frenching the shit out of me.

  Rational Andi: Kick this bitch's ass! Who the hell does he think he is?

  Horny Andi: I am feeding you cyanide first chance I get. Shut your damn mouth. This guy is HOT.

  I reached up and wrapped my arms around Quinn's neck, pulling him down between my knees where I could feel his hot, hard body very clearly against mine. He had an erection that was poking me through the thin blanket that separated us. Did I mention I wasn't wearing any panties? Kind of took 'em off to masturbate. I had brief thoughts of remorse that Quinn wasn't my Mystery Man and vice versa, but decided to roll with it for a second. I mean, Quinn Prentis was kissing me. Seriously, how cool was that? Granted, I had turned him down before, but that was only because Rational Andi was in control. Now that that bitch was poisoned, I could finally get a nibble of this boy with the hard ass and the sexy growl that he was not afraid to use as he reached down and unbuttoned his pants.

  Rational Andi: I'm not dead, yet, bitch. Get a grip on yourself, seriously.

  I struggled to say something to Quinn, anything at all. No words would come out, just moans as he freed his cock from his pants and proceeded to rub it against my clit through the blanket. Is this dry humping? I wondered and then, No, this is at least wet humping. Oh my god … Wet humping … Yes!

  “You are so hot, beautiful,” Quinn said as he pressed his mouth to mine and knocked our teeth together. It was kind of hot. “Hottest calc babe I know.”

  “I'm not exactly a babe,” I said and then, “Oh!” as Quinn started nibbling my ear. I reached my hands under his shirt and felt along his muscles. They were rock solid and slick with just a bit of sweat (probably because Gen left the heater on all the damn time). I explored his shoulders and upper back, dragged my nails along his flesh, and opened my legs. Quinn didn't move the blanket though, just kept his rhythm going until we were both moaning like alley cats.

  Bang! Zip! BAM!

  “Holy shit!” I screamed as I came, wrapping my legs around Quinn's ripped midsection, squeezing his body in a vice grip between my thighs. He paused for a moment while I shuddered in his arms, throwing my head back into my pillows and making a complete ass out of myself. When I was finished, I had tears in my eyes, not from an emotional response or anything but just because it felt so damn good.

  “Hey beautiful,” Quinn whispered after a few seconds.

  “It's Andi.”

  “Do you think you could, um, help me out a little?” Quinn sat back and showed me his, uh, problem. It was about six inches long and totally uncircumcised.

  I sort of panicked and shoved him off onto the floor. Not because of the whole not circumcised thing, but because I had just orgasmed in the arms of a guy who hadn't even known my name until like, two days ago.

  “Where are you going?” he asked as I stumbled out of bed with the sheets wrapped around my waist. “You've got that condom on your bedside table. You sure you don't want to finish?” I grabbed a bra from the top drawer of my dresser and yanked a random dress off its hanger without bothering to look at what it was.

  “Sorry, Quinn. I have to get to calc.” I paused. “You should go, too. We have a pop quiz today.”

  An hour later, I was digging under my seat surreptitiously trying to find my newest clue while Quinn's hand slid up my thigh, once again reminding me that I was wearing a short, black dress and no panties. I am not a commando girl under normal circumstances and I have to say, the extra breeze factor was not all it's cracked up to be.

  “You wanna go back to your place after this?” Quinn asked as I slid my eyes over to him and tried not to turn bright as fuck red. His lips were a bit swollen, nicked by my teeth, and he was leaning back, gazing at me from those pretty blue eyes like I was the perfect catch. Aha! My hand finally brushed the edge of something, and I grabbed onto it like it was a lifeline.

  “Um, not sure,” I whispered as Preston Ellis appeared in the corner of my eye, handsome and studious, as always. His glasses were clean and polished, shining under the bright lights as he ascended the steps to the stage and took over for the world's laziest professor, one who thought student assistants were there so he could hit on some of his favorite coeds during class. Namely the ones who sat in the front row and forgot to cross their legs when they wore shirt skirts. Considering my commando status, I didn't just remember, I seriously considered gluing my knees together to keep my bits hidden.

  “We're going to be moving on to chapter seven … ” Preston began as I dragged my prize out from beneath the seat and set it in my lap. I had to try really, really hard not to keep staring at the cut on his forehead. Or his ass when he turned around. Either way, the man was distracting as all get out.

  “I was thinking, if you wanted, we could even go somewhere else, you know. That is, if you're into that kind of thing.” I ignored Quinn and examined my clue. It was a wooden box with a red envelope taped to the top. Fortunately, Quinn was too busy checking out my tits to really notice that I had something in my lap much less where it had come from. I opened the envelope first.

  You found them. Nice job, Andi. Can I call you Andi? Inside the box you'll find one of my favorite Valentine's Day treats along with your next clue. Enjoy.

  I tucked the note into my textbook and cracked open the lid to the box. Inside, layered in pink velvet, were a pair of metal handcuffs. Real nice ones. Fancy ones with a heart shaped key and everything. Goose bumps sprung up all over my skin and I found my pulse racing like I had just run a marathon.

  Rational Andi: Yeah. Seriously. Do you need anymore proof? This fuck is a stalker. Like a big time stalker.

  Horny Andi: Yum. Handcuffs.

  Rational Andi: Which this bitch is going to use to attach you to the bumper of his cargo van and drag you along the interstate. Are you insane? Go to the campus police. Now. Get a Doberman pinscher. Something. Anything. Hello? Are you even listening? Pause. Aw, go fuck yourself. And don't come crawling to me when you're lit up with seventy-five
watts and draped over a brass lamp.

  I slammed the lid shut on the box and cringed when the sound rang out through the quiet space between Preston's words. When I looked up, not only was he staring at me, but so was half the class. Nice. I swallowed hard, grabbed Quinn's hand and dragged him out the door. As soon as we hit the pavement, he was pushing me up against a wall and kissing my neck. Whoa. Talk about sending wrong messages. First, I turned him down, then I practically fucked him, and now … wow … I couldn't give a shit less about him. I needed to find Mystery Man before curiosity really did kill the cat. Or the pussy. Whatever.

  “I knew you were hot for me,” he whispered as I tried to get my raging hormones under control. Despite what Rational Andi thought, I was intrigued. This guy, whoever he was, had me at handcuffs. Damn, but I was falling for him and I hadn't even met him yet.

  Rational Andi: He's probably, like, three hundred friggin' pounds with a hairy beer belly and a lisp.

  I ignored her and pushed Quinn off, using the wooden box to put space between us. He stepped back, but he didn't look happy about it. His hands went straight in his pockets and he puffed out a huge breath of air.

  “What's up with you?” he asked me, tilting his head to the side like he was a bird or something. “You are like, a big time faucet.” I blinked stupidly back at him.

  “Huh?” I asked as the door opened behind me and footsteps approached quickly. I glanced over my shoulder and found Preston coming towards us with a frown on his face.

  “You know, the whole 'hot-cold' thing?”

  “Excuse me,” Preston said as he stepped between us, totally cutting off Quinn from sight. I looked up, up, up and tried to focus on the small white bandage on his forehead instead of the fire in his eyes. And believe you me, it was burning in those big brown orbs nice and hot. “But you dropped these.” He reached out a hand and showed me a pair of pink and white striped panties that were totally not mine.