by Young, Luke
Holding the open book in her lap, her mind went back to memories of the cruise— her steam room experience with Ethan, then to all the ridiculous events surrounding her attempt to help Jillian relive that experience with her husband. She only wanted to help put a spark back in her marriage. After breaking into a chuckle, she flipped the page on the book and discovered the author’s note. Jillian wrote a few paragraphs about her inspiration behind the book, mentioned that she loved to hear from fans and provided a contact email address.
She glanced at the clock and it was after midnight. After pondering the late hour, she shrugged, popped out of bed and headed to the computer where she sent an email which contained a short note mentioning the cruise along with her phone number.
The next morning Victoria was sipping tea out by the pool when her phone rang. She rushed inside to grab it.
A clearly feminine voice fighting to sound masculine said, “Agent Wilde please.”
“What?”
“I’m looking for Agent Wilde.”
Playing along, Victoria shook her head as a smile spread across her face. She replied in an official sounding tone, “Yes, this is Agent Wilde.”
“Um, this is Admiral Green from the International America Cruise Lines.”
“Yes, ma’am, sorry, I mean, sir what can I do for you?”
“I understand you assisted Captain Waterbrook during a recent investigation, and we need your help.”
Victoria struggled to maintain a straight face as she replied, “Sure, just, um, tell me what you need.”
“You see there’s been an outbreak of streaking aboard one of our ships and the only images we have are of the suspects private parts.”
“You are in luck. The bureau has just released a penile identification system, which can with one hundred percent accuracy identify a suspect purely using a picture of his junk.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” The pretend male voice replied on the other end of the phone.
“A penis…” Victoria snorted back a laugh, “… a penis, um, is just like a fingerprint— no two are identical.”
The caller burst into laughter on the other end of the phone. “Sorry, I can’t keep this up.”
“Oh, I could go all day.”
“I know you could.”
“So, Jillian, how are you?”
“I’m good. My assistant got your email and forwarded it over.”
“Sorry we didn’t exchange phone numbers on the ship. What the hell were we thinking?”
“Yeah, I was sad about it too,” Jillian said. “I know you live in Miami, but where exactly?”
“Coconut Grove.”
“No way.”
“Yes, I’m in The Pines.”
Jillian scoffed. “I live in Silver Bluff Estates.”
“We’re practically neighbors.”
“Yeah, I’m Fourteen Seventeen Orange Street.”
“That’s about two blocks. I live on Griffon Lane.”
“This is weird,” Victoria said.
“We should get together for tea or something.”
“Definitely… You free today?”
“I am.”
“How about two at my house.”
“Sounds perfect.” After clearing her throat, Jillian asked, “So, is a penis really like a fingerprint?”
“Is that a serious question?”
“No, I mean, yes… what I mean is I’ve only really, actually, seen… one up close, so—”
“What?” Victoria chuckled. “You can’t be serious.”
“No, wait… Two. I saw Ethan’s on the beach.” Jillian paused a moment then continued, “Hold on— three. How can I forget the old man from the steam room? But that one was really quick.”
“That last one probably wasn’t a great one to end your streak on.”
“No, it really wasn’t.”
“But hey,” Victoria said in a cheery voice. “You’ve seen more than you thought.”
“I know, but it was really just the one before I met you.”
“That’s actually sorta sad.” Victoria shrugged.
“Is it?”
“Yeah. I think it is.”
“I guess you’re right,” Jillian agreed. “But when you get pregnant in high school your days of seeing other penises are mostly over.”
“That’s one of the biggest reasons that you really shouldn’t do that.”
“I wish you had been around to tell me that about twenty years ago.”
They shared a laugh.
Victoria said, “Hey, I just did the math and, uh, do you realize that since you’ve met me, you’ve tripled your penis sightings.”
“I guess I have.”
“You can thank me later.”
“I would, but I’m not sure that’s actually a good thing.”
“No, it is.” Victoria nodded. “I’m pretty sure it is.”
THE END…
I hope you enjoyed this book and I love hearing from fans of the series. Feel free to email me with any questions, to maybe share a scene that you enjoyed or just to say hi at [email protected]
Please help spread the word about this series by posting a review online, telling friends or simply by liking my facebook author page by clicking here.
Follow the continuing story of Victoria and Jillian in FRIENDS WITH PARTIAL BENEFITS (An excerpt is included below the author’s note).
I also invite you to watch the Friends With Partial Benefits short film. It’s my favorite scene adapted from the FWPB novel. We shot it out in LA in December of 2013. Click here to watch it on YouTube.
To contact Luke or to be placed on a mailing list to receive updates about new releases, send an email to [email protected]
To find out more about the author and his work, see http://www.lukeyoungbooks.com/
ALSO BY LUKE YOUNG
SHRINKAGE
CHOCOLATE COVERED BILLIONAIRE NAVY SEAL
CHANCES AREN’T
SO FAR GONE, GIRL: A PARODY
The Friends With Benefits Series:
FRIENDS WITH PARTIAL BENEFITS (Excerpt Included)
FRIENDS WITH FULL BENEFITS
FRIENDS WITH MORE BENEFITS
FRIENDS WITH EXTRA BENEFITS
FRIENDS WITH WAY TOO MANY BENEFITS
The Friends With Benefits Prequel Series:
FRIENDS WANTING BENEFITS
Also Available:
FRIENDS WITH EXPLICIT BENEFITS BOXED SET (Books 1-4 with select expanded Ian Dalton Scenes)
Author’s Note:
I hope you enjoyed Friends Wanting Benefits. Here’s a little background on the genesis of this story:
In Desperate Thoughts, Victoria’s prequel written under my Ian Dalton pen name, I ended that story with Victoria discussing going on a cruise with her boy toy, Ethan. I did this without really giving too much thought to continuing the story. When I decided I wanted to write a prequel to the Friends series, one where Victoria and Jillian meet, and one that was funny and not serious and all super-erotic, I figured what the hell, let’s have these two amazing women meet on the ship. It seemed pretty perfect.
My wife and I recently took a cruise to Canada on a line that will remain nameless. It certainly wasn’t my idea of a dream vacation— trapped on a ship that was sure to be filled with senior citizens and going to cold places. Give me a tropical beach and some attractive people to look at, maybe just a bit younger than seventy, now that’s what I call a vacation. However, it was my wife’s idea, so you know, what was I going to do?
Don’t get me wrong, we certainly had fun. Although I was run over more than once by one of those old people riding those deadly scooters— some of them really seem to be laser focused on making their meals on time.
My wife and I were one of the contestants in the Love and Marriage game and I must say we kicked ass! I had four drinks in me and said some pretty crazy stuff, danced on stage (when required to) and we pretty much nailed every question. We were promised a DVD copy of the show and neve
r given one. I inquired multiple times on board the last few days of the cruise and again after the cruise via email, and was given the run around like you would not believe. On board I was told my DVD was on its way to my cabin and afterward I was told they could not send me a copy. I’ll never cruise with them again. The food really wasn’t very good anyway.
Kilt and Stick are real people, well, we called them that anyway. We sorta met them on the cruise and my wife and I thought they were stalking us especially after our amazing game show performance. They were an odd couple to say the least. My wife and I had our first ever couple’s massage. My masseuse was a little rough, but my wife said she enjoyed hers. But gosh, they are expensive— not sure if I would do that again.
I spent a little time in the steam room and it was, in fact, empty and it would have been pretty awesome if the wife had popped in and, you know… but that did not happen. So, sadly, there were no international incidents on my voyage.
I’ve never been scuba diving, but what I describe in the book is evidently possible. I actually found, let’s call it, an adult scene on the internet showing pretty much all the acts I outlined. You’ve got to love the internet— search and you shall find. And I know you must feel for me— it’s exhausting the research that goes into putting one my books together, but somebody’s got to do it. ;)
Again, I hope you enjoyed Friends Wanting Benefits and I hope you’ll read more of my work. I’ve included an excerpt from Friends With Partial Benefits after this author’s note, which is book one in the Friends With Benefits series.
Luke Young
FRIENDS WITH PARTIAL BENEFITS
1
Jillian Grayson sat up in bed, typing away on the keyboard of her laptop computer. She wore a nightshirt that wasn’t all that sexy, but what she was typing was… or at least it started out that way…
Dallas lay in bed, unable to sleep and wondering if Katrina was suffering the same fate—and for the very same reason. Did she want him as much as he wanted her? Katrina was but a few steps away, yet he dare not go to her, for he was a guest, and then there was Katrina’s mother, who was just across the hall. For Dallas, sleep came minutes later, but it would be short-lived, for soon Katrina stood over him, completely nude and pondering how to proceed…
Dallas must have been in a deep sleep, since he didn’t feel it when Katrina peeled the sheet carefully off him, exposing his muscular body, six-pack abs, and sizeable manhood. She quivered when his impressiveness sprang into view. For a long time, she kneeled next to the bed, just studying his body and savoring his scent. Taking his sex into her hand, Katrina worked it until it was rigid while she watched him sleep. When Dallas woke, he looked into her eyes, swallowed hard, and whispered, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Just as fast as his sex expanded, it lost its firmness and flopped against his leg. Katrina looked down at it in disappointment and then moaned in frustration. “What’s wrong?”
Dallas said sheepishly, “Sometimes that happens to me. Sorry. Ever since I cheated on my wife with that whore in the pool, I haven’t been able to—”
Jillian stopped typing and thought she might be heading in the wrong direction with this. How did her ex-husband get into the story? But then again, most men are assholes, she thought.
Picking up the glass of wine from her nightstand, she took a long sip and then replaced it. She highlighted the last paragraph about Dallas’s problem, hit one key, and it was gone. Just like his boner. She laughed out loud.
She wasn’t exactly in the correct frame of mind to write at the moment, especially on this particular subject. She stared straight ahead and wondered about the likelihood of Dallas slipping in the shower, striking his head, and dying instantly. Or maybe an earthquake could strike, and Dallas’s amazingly perfect body would be trapped under a giant beam.
What the hell kind of name was Dallas anyway? She thought she might want to give her character a real name like Stewart but figured no one would believe that a guy named Stewart could give you six consecutive orgasms in one night.
What was she doing, anyway, writing novels about people having amazing sex when she’d never had any? Okay, maybe once or twice twenty years ago, but none since then. She had no right. If people knew that she was the one writing these books, they wouldn’t buy them. She was a fraud.
Jillian picked up her wineglass and took another long drink. She grinned, wiped those unhelpful thoughts from her mind, and started typing again…
Katrina took his sex in her hand and worked it until it was rigid. As she studied it closely, Katrina noticed two red bumps on the underside of his pathetic excuse for a penis. She recoiled in horror—
Jillian hit the backspace key to erase everything after Dallas’s “sex” started expanding. Romance novels about erectile dysfunction and STDs weren’t exactly big sellers. She closed the lid on the laptop and tossed it gently onto a pillow at the foot of the bed. After emptying her wineglass with one last sip, she turned on the television.
Jillian Grayson wrote under the pen name of Jaclyn West. She’d written fourteen bestsellers so far and had more money than she needed flowing in, so her next novel could wait. The book royalties had paid for her large, beautiful house in Miami. She still had plenty of money, even after the divorce, which forced her to part with nearly half of her earnings to her bastard ex-husband.
She’d never forget the day she came home early from a book tour and found George performing oral sex on that slut in the pool, the pool she had paid for and an act he rarely, if ever, did for her. Jillian always thought he hated oral sex or, more specifically, he hated the giving part. But there he was, naked, standing in the shallow end of the pool, and going to work on some other woman as she floated in the pool on a ring, which Jillian had also paid for. The pool oral sex thing actually looked like it might be kind of fun, and she often wondered why George had never once tried that on her.
That day, when she spotted them from the second floor balcony off their bedroom, she had watched for a little longer than she’d care to admit. Maybe that was because all her erotic romance writing had left her desensitized to sex, at least a little. At first, it didn’t seem real; it was as if she was visualizing a scene for a book, not watching her husband cheat on her.
When she finally came back to earth, Jillian left the house and went to the side of the pool. She snuck up on the adulterous couple and stood there until the woman being serviced noticed they had an audience. The woman tapped George on the shoulder to get his attention. When George turned around, he had a guilty look on his face that Jillian would never forget. Jillian wouldn’t let the naked woman back in the house to get her clothes. She simply threw the clothes out the door. The woman was forced to get dressed outside and shamefully leave through the back gate. George went into the house, got dressed, and left through the front door. It was the last time he ever set foot inside.
Jillian didn’t cry that day; instead, she put on a pair of kitchen gloves and retrieved the ring float from the pool. When her attempts to drain the float of air through the valve seemed to be taking too long, she stabbed it ten times with scissors. That could possibly have been overkill, but it did the trick and gave her a much-needed outlet for her rage. She called a company to have the pool drained, scrubbed, and refilled at the cost of fifteen hundred dollars. It was worth it, she thought, because she would never have been able to dip a toe in the pool until every last drop of that contaminated water was replaced.
She imagined what George had been up to all those times she was traveling. What types of women had he explored in and out of the pool? How long had he been screwing around and with how many women? Although Jillian was out of town quite a bit, she had never suspected anything, since George never seemed to be sneaking around, nor was he ever evasive about where he was going or what he had planned. Their sex life was never great or very active, but he seemed to be an attentive and loyal husband—at least, most of the time.
Once she discovered the infidelity, s
he wanted to know if George had left her with any other little surprises. She went to her doctor for a complete STD panel of tests, and luckily for him, she came back clean. Had George left her with something, she would have cut off his balls, or worse.
Jillian could always come up with stories and had never suffered from long bouts of writer’s block in the past. But lately her male characters ended up mangled in some horrible accident, diseased, or unable to perform. She could not focus. Even though she had no personal interest in the lifestyle, she pitched an idea for an all-female, lesbian romance novel, but her publisher declined. Maybe she would try to write in another genre, she thought, but this romance stuff used to come so easily to her.
She was sitting on four unfinished manuscripts. Once Jillian found a story heading down the wrong path, she would start another, but that technique didn’t seem to be working for her, either. Since the divorce, she found herself unable to finish a novel, and she was beginning to think that maybe what she needed was a complete break from writing.
She couldn’t blame George completely, because ever since her first bestseller, she definitely was less attentive to him than she needed to be. It was probably at least ten percent her fault, although she never admitted that to him. Even so, did he really need to screw other women in their house, especially in their pool? Couldn’t he have gotten a divorce first or at the very least done it in a hotel or something? What if their son, Rob, currently attending college in Georgia, had come home to catch his father doing what he was doing with another woman in broad daylight? Rob would have been devastated.
He’d be home for Spring Break in about six weeks, although Jillian was sure he’d spend nearly all his time with his girlfriend, Laura, who was going to school in Miami. They’d been dating since their junior year of high school, and it looked like these two kids were in love and would be married once they graduated from university.