Talk Dirty to Me

by Lulu Wright

  Lizzie: No sitter, sorry! sad face emoji

  Always.

  Scarlet: Can’t drink on my pills. Want to come to Bible group?

  On a Friday? Heck no I didn’t. Or did I?

  Me: Can I bring my own Bible?

  Scarlet: The graphic novel collection that is Sandman is NOT THE BIBLE YOU HEATHEN.

  Clearly not true at all, so I chose not to respond. Not the bible? It was my bible, and I felt duty-bound to spread the gospel. Excuse me, but do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior Neil Gaiman? It was extremely apparent that she was discriminating against me. She was always casually leaving her King James edition around, I saw no reason I couldn’t hand out my Neil Gaiman edition.

  Apparently I’d mentioned it often enough that she was wise to my tricks.

  Liquor store and Redbox it was, then, because I was not going to waste this night not drinking and watching stupid movies.

  A few moments of wandering through the first fine establishment I could find, cleverly named BOOZE4LESS by some classy gentleman, told me that I had not been drinking enough.

  When did so many glorious new flavors of vodka become available? Bubblegum? Cake Batter? Skittle? It was an alcoholic twelve year-old’s dream in there.

  For a socially awkward ADD graphic artist? Eek.

  See, when I get overwhelmed by too many choices, I tend to make a panic decision and choose something that was never actually on my radar. That’s totally how I ended up with the bourbon. I don’t even like bourbon.

  And then, lo and behold, when I drove into the driveway I could see Marc through the window, lounging on the couch where I had mentally staked my claim. Dang. I didn’t have a TV in my room, so where was I going to watch the newest-ish superhero movie on my free night?

  Anyway, wasn’t he supposed to be out partying it up on his own? So much for assuming that he had a more active social life than I did. Or, at least, less-lame friends. Apparently his friends called it quits before dinner, even, so I guessed he won that not-prize. Gosh, I really knew next to nothing about the guy I’d lived with for almost a year.

  This was bad. I was not going to drink alone in my room. I wanted to drink alone in the living room! Wait. That sounded bad.

  Actually, this didn’t have to be bad. Marc was totally a bourbon guy. Bourbon was a manly drink. Marc was a manly man. Maybe he’d be impressed with my choice. Maybe we could finally live out Couch Night, the fantasy I’d carried for the past ten months.

  Ten whole months since the first time I touched his peen. With my chin.

  Not that I thought about that. Much. In I went, bourbon at the ready.

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  Also by Lulu Wright

  The Hard Sell

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to:

  My roommates

  Social Butterfly PR

  Carol Seymour

  Jax Dylan Hawkins

  Sophie Broughton

  Penny Wylder

  Jackie Hernandez-Narvaez

  Peggy Lee

  Tony F

  Rose H:

  Maggie Riley

  Rhonda James

  And all of those who helped the success of The Hard Sell.

  About the Author

  Lulu Wright is a sushi eating lover of Broadway shows, long walks on the beach, and sexy book boyfriends. After working in retail for ages, she’s proud to put her hilarious experiences to paper in her first romance novel, The Hard Sell.

  LuluWrightAuthor

  luluwrightwrites@gmail.com