The Fed Sex Man: Hot Contemporary Romance

by Scott Hildreth

He stepped beside me and grabbed a book. “She can’t hear me.”

  “Everyone can hear you.”

  “Fine,” he huffed.

  “So, you’ll shut the fuck up?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  I skimmed through a paragraph and chuckled at absolutely nothing. “Don’t fuck this up,” I said under my breath. “I mean it.”

  “Dude’s got an ice cube in his mouth and he’s sucking some chick’s tits on the front porch,” he said matter-of-factly. “He just dropped her dress to the floor. She’s standing there, naked, on the porch.”

  I glared at the book he held. “What the fuck are you reading?”

  He glanced at the cover. “Submission. I’m buying this fucker.”

  “You’re not buying a book.”

  “The fuck I’m not. Chick’s dig intellectual dudes.”

  “You’re not intellectual.”

  He raised the book. “If I buy this, it’ll look like I am.”

  Feeling regretful for having brought him, I shook my head. “Don’t embarrass me.”

  “Moi?”

  I closed my book in a dramatic fashion and put it back on the shelf. “I mean it.”

  “All I’m going to do is buy this book. If she goes gah-gah when I do, I can’t help it.”

  I gestured toward Jo with my eyes. “Come on, Romeo.”

  Giggling and clutching books close to their chest, two women walked past us, toward the front door. Although one was an extremely attractive women, Shawn seemed unaffected. Surprised by his unwavering focus, I meandered to where Jo and the cowgirl were standing.

  I looked at Jo and smiled. “Good morning.”

  She smiled in return. “What a surprise.”

  “‘Mornin’.” Cowgirl extended her hand in Shawn’s direction. “I’m Jenny.”

  She was wearing a pair of tight-fitting jeans, boots, and an equally snug white tee shirt that appeared to have had the sleeves ripped off mere minutes prior to our arrival.

  Stray threads dangled from the arm holes. The word BITCH was emblazoned across the front of the garment. I wondered how true the description was, and if she had another shirt that read CRAZY.

  Shawn set the book in front of her and then shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Shawn.”

  She glanced at the book. “Do you read CD Reiss?”

  “I haven’t yet,” he responded. “But that one looks good.”

  “Everything she writes is good.”

  Shawn chuckled. “I decided when he unzipped her dress and let it fall on the porch that I needed to read it.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Are you a voyeur?”

  “I wouldn’t describe myself as one, no,” he said. “But sexy is sexy, and that was sexy.”

  Jenny scanned the book and then handed it to Shawn. “That’ll be $11.72. Do you drive a truck?”

  “Say again?” Shawn stammered.

  “Eleven. Seventy. Two. For. The. Book.” She cocked her head to the side. “Do. You. Drive. A. Truck?”

  Shawn handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “I. Do. Not.”

  “What. Do. You. Drive?”

  “A. Mustang. Cobra.”

  She leaned to the side and looked beyond him. After satisfying herself that there was no one standing behind us, she folded her arms over her chest. “Tell me a story.”

  In a mimicking gesture, Shawn crossed his arms. “About what?”

  “I’ll let you pick.”

  Wearing a delicate smile, Jo looked at me and shrugged. At a complete loss as to what was going on, I returned an awkward grin and waited for Shawn to do what he did best.

  “It was about two in the morning on a Wednesday night,” Shawn began. “I was going home from the bar. Probably a little drunker than I should have been, but not so drunk that I couldn’t recognize a hunger pang. One hit me in the ribs about halfway home, so I pulled into a Circle-K to get a chilidog.”

  He tapped his ribcage with the tip of his index finger and winced in mock pain.

  “You’re not going to tell that story, are you?” I asked.

  He gave me a look. “I was planning on it, why?”

  “I would have guessed you’d tell a different one. That one’s a little, oh, I don’t know. Harsh.”

  Jenny shot me a glare. “Let him tell his story.”

  “Where was I?” Shawn asked.

  Jenny grinned. “You were getting a hotdog at Circle-K.”

  “Yeah. The hotdog.” He glanced at each of the girls. “When I rolled into the parking lot, it was empty. Empty as in empty. I pulled in and parked at the side the building, so no late-night drunks that happened to stop in would ding my car doors. Half drunk and hungrier than fuck, I stumbled around the corner of the building and toward the door. As soon as I get to the front of the building, I see this crazy-acting fucker through the glass. It looks like he’s arguing with the guy behind the counter. The guy behind the counter is facing me, and he notices me. So, the weirdo with his back to me spins around, and his eyes get as big as dinner plates. There’s this big display of Cheetos beside him, so I can’t see everything, but I noticed when he turned around he shoved his hands in his pockets really fast.”

  He looked at Jo, took a dramatic pause, and then looked at Jenny. After another long pause, he continued. “Now, remember, from inside the store a person couldn’t see my car, because it was around the corner of the building. So, when I see this big-eyed weirdo, I didn’t think too much of it. You know, just that he’s shocked because I came walking up out of nowhere.”

  “He was robbing the place, wasn’t he?” Jenny asked.

  “You’ll just have to wait and see what happens,” Shawn said.

  “Sorry, go ahead.”

  “Now this guy stands about six foot seven, weighs about a buck-fifty, and he’s as white as a fuckin’ ghost. The kind of white a guy gets when he’s never been exposed to the sunlight. When I walk in, this ghastly-looking string bean motherfucker stops talking and starts pacing the floor. I give this weird fucker a glare and go back to the hotdog machine. While I’m getting my chilidog all doctored up, I notice he’s scratching his arms like they’re on fuckin’ fire. I’m thinking ‘this fucker’s a meth-head’, but I step beside this lanky prick to pay for my chilidog anyway. While I’m leaning against that oversized display of Cheetos and digging in my pocket for change, the guy behind the counter looks at me like, help me. I hand him a wad of change and give him a what the fuck’s going on? Look. He opens the register and gives me that same help me look right back.”

  “What did you do?” Jenny asked.

  “I was armed with a chilidog, a pocket full of change, and an empty wallet. I couldn’t have been much help. So, I paid for my chilidog, took a big bite off the end of it, and walked back to my car.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I had to,” Shawn said with a laugh. “To get my gun.”

  “He was robbing the place, wasn’t he?” Jenny gasped.

  “At that point, no,” Shawn replied.

  “Ohmygod.” Jenny clasped her hands together excitedly. “Tell us the rest.”

  “I’d realized during this little hotdog getting venture that I was drunker than I’d originally thought, so I ate that chilidog on the way to the car. After washing it down with half a bottle of Coke, I popped my trunk and loaded my shotgun.”

  “Wait,” Jenny spouted. “I’ve got two questions.”

  “Let’s hear ‘em.”

  “You got a bottle of Coke, not a can?”

  “Always get a bottle. Cans taste like shit.”

  “Glass or plastic?”

  “Glass. The ten-ounce Mexican bottle. If it ain’t made in Mexico, I won’t drink it. The Mexicans have got their shit together. They still use the original recipe. Circle-K keeps it in the side cooler by the Jarritos and that funky white cheese. They call it the ‘Mexican Cooler’. What’s the next question?”

  “You carry a shotgun in your trunk?”

  “I’m a Texan,”
Shawn replied. “I carry an arsenal in my trunk.”

  “Point taken,” she said with a playful wave of her upturned hand. “Please continue.”

  Shawn positioned his hands as if he were carrying a shotgun. “This shotgun’s one of those things like Arnold Schwarzenegger carried in The Terminator. Pistol grip, short barrel, extended magazine. An assault shotgun. Well, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to walk around the other side of the building, so I’d really sneak up on this fucker. So, I’m drunker’n a monkey stumbling around the backside of this dark as fuck building. When I came around the last corner, I see this lanky prick’s got a pistol in his hand. He’s robbing the guy, just like I thought he’d be.”

  Jenny’s eyes went wide. “What did you do?”

  “Remember, I’m walking on the other side of the building, in unchartered territory. And, I’m drunker’n fuck. So, I’m stumbling across this unfamiliar chunk of concrete, and my eyes are fixed on the weirdo’s pistol. Guess what happens? I trip over an imperfection in the sidewalk.”

  “No, you didn’t?”

  “I sure as fuck did. Fell flat on my ass. When I hit the ground, the shotgun went off. Shattered the fucking window. Glass and Cheetos went everywhere. So, the meth-head came running out of there covered in orange dust, and when he did, I was trying to stand up.”

  He paused and glanced at each of us.

  “Now, there’s a part I haven’t told you yet. When I was in there getting my chili dog, I got a little plastic baggy full of jalapenos and put ‘em in my hoodie pocket, because I love those little fuckers on my chilidogs. It’s the same baggie you slip the hot dog in if you’re taking it home to eat it. The bag’s open on one end, so if you tip it over, everything spills out. At this point, I haven’t eaten any of ‘em, because my drunken ass forgot I had ‘em. So, back to the story. I’m on the sidewalk half-drunk and scared this wigged-out weirdo’s gonna shoot me before I shoot him. When this crazy-eyed Cheeto-covered weirdo’s running out the door, I’m trying to stand up. As soon as he sees me, naturally, he points his gun at me. I’m struggling to get up, and the barrel of his pistol’s wobblin’ all over the fuckin’ place because this fucker’s all strung out on whatever he’s strung out on. For a minute, time kind of stands still. At that exact instant, when life was closing in on me, it dawns on me that the one who survives is the one who pulls the trigger first. I’m struggling to get up and he’s trying to point his shaking pistol at me, and all of a sudden…”

  He threw his arms high in the air and shouted, “WHAM!”

  I’d heard the story a hundred times. Jo and Jenny, of course, hadn’t. While they recovered from nearly jumping from their skin, Shawn continued.

  “I slip on a pile of fuckin’ jalapenos and fall flat on my ass. Again. When I hit the ground, the shotgun went off. Again. That time, the shot blew the meth-head’s arm clean off right above the elbow. His fuckin’ arm hit the ground with the pistol still clenched in his dead hand. This one-armed fucker looks at his arm, looks at me, and just stands there like, did that really just happen? I said, ‘don’t move, motherfucker, or I’ll blow off the other one.’ The clerk was so appreciative of me saving him that he gave me all the free chilidogs I could eat. By the time the cops got there, I’d sucked down four more of ‘em, and was as sober as a nun.”

  “Ho-Lee-Shit,” Jenny exclaimed.

  Shawn grinned and nodded. “They labeled me a hero and put me on the morning news. Ends up the meth-head was on a three-day streak of robbing gas stations, banks, and grocery stores. They sent his one-armed ass to prison for twenty years.”

  A puzzled look washed over Jenny. “They didn’t sew his arm back on?”

  She’d asked exactly what Shawn was hoping for. While I waited for him to tell the rest of the story, I glanced at Jo.

  Enthralled by Shawn’s tale of the one-armed meth-head, she was waiting intently for him to continue. While her eyes were fixed on him, I allowed her flattering black outfit to hijack my thoughts.

  Before Shawn finished his response to Jenny’s question, my cock was at full attention. Slightly embarrassed, I pushed my hands into the pockets of my shorts and struggled to hide my satisfaction in how Jo’s choice of clothing accentuated her body’s perfect curves.

  If things went the way I planned, I’d be balls-deep inside her in less than twelve hours. My stiffening cock tingled at the thought of it.

  “What do you mean ‘they never found it’?” Jenny asked. “It was a freaking arm. Where’d it go?”

  Shawn shrugged. “It disappeared.”

  “An arm doesn’t just disappear.”

  “Maybe someone took it,” Shawn responded.

  “Who would have taken it? There was the guy inside, the cops, the paramedics, you, and the ambulance attendants.”

  “Maybe some drunk who had chilidogs on his breath did something with it. Out of spite. Or boredom. Or, maybe he was just disgusted.”

  “Oh. Emm. Ghee. Tell me you didn’t steal that guy’s arm.”

  “I didn’t steal it, I just put it somewhere.”

  “Tossed it on the roof?”

  Shawn shook his head.

  “In your trunk?”

  “Nope.”

  “Dumpster?”

  “Negative.”

  “Oh my God. Tell me.”

  “The one-armed dude was duct-taped to the light pole, and I was sitting on the curb eating chilidogs like a madman while I waited on the cops. I kept lookin’ at that bloody stump, and it was creeping me out. The pasty white fucker was just lying there on the sidewalk gripping that pistol. So, knowin’ the cops would want the pistol, I unhitched it from that clammy hand and set it on top of the bottled water display. Then, I tossed that nasty arm in a manhole beside the building. When the cops questioned me, I told ‘em I didn’t know where it was. They didn’t believe me, so I let ‘em search my car. After they didn’t find it, they assumed someone took it. I figured they’d bust down my door down one day, saying they had me on film tossing it in the sewer.”

  “But they never did?”

  “The Circle-K didn’t have outside cameras. When I found out the guy had been robbing places for three or four days, I figured he got what he deserved. That bloody arm’s floating around somewhere under Plano, Texas right now.”

  “The one-armed meth-head.” Jenny chuckled. “That’s one of the best stories I’ve ever heard.”

  “Pfft,” Shawn said with flippant wave of his hand. “I’ve got a million of ‘em.”

  Jenny smiled a genuine smile, which surprised me. What little I’d seen of her led me to believe she was exactly what her shirt said she was, a bitch. While I made a mental plan to pull Shawn aside and remind him to ask her on a date, he did just that.

  “I think the four of us should go out sometime,” Shawn said.

  “Like a double date?” Jenny asked.

  Shawn shrugged. “Whatever you want to call it.”

  Jenny looked at Jo. “Sounds good to me.”

  “I’m fine with it,” Jo said with a smile.

  Apparently, I was the only one who thought having the crazy cowgirl and my overbearing friend with me on a date would be a burden. A month in the future, just before Jo and I went our separate ways, I might be able to stomach them both for an evening.

  As a parting gift for Jo.

  “Sounds great.” I said. “All we need to do is figure out when we can all get together—"

  Shawn scanned the group. “Tonight?”

  I glared at him.

  “Tonight’s good with me,” Jenny said.

  My attention shot to Jo. Hoping her anxiety would cause her to deny Shawn’s double date request, I waited for her to nix the ridiculous plan.

  Her eyes glistened with hope. “It’ll be fun. Let’s do it.”

  Having Shawn and Jenny accompany us on our date would kill my plan for balls-deep sex. Nonetheless, I didn’t want to be perceived as being a prick. Doing so would assure Jo and I got off to a rocky start.

  I
needed my sexual journey with her to be nothing but smooth sailing. I forced a smile and told her my first of what would likely be many lies.

  “I can’t wait.”

  9

  Jo

  Seated at a booth in one of my favorite Mexican restaurants, I couldn’t have been happier. I was another date wit Tyson, and Jenny met a man who just might meet her strange dating criteria.

  Shawn’s storytelling was second to none. He was cute. He used his hands when he spoke. There were only two questions left.

  His loyalty and his dick.

  “Guys don’t normally go to the bathroom together, do they?” Jenny asked.

  I took a quick glance toward the restroom. “I have no idea.”

  “Shawn’s funny,” she said.

  “Funny ha-ha, or funny weird?”

  She reached for a chip. “Ha-ha funny.”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “You know how girls who have a lot in common hang out together?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “In school, all the girls who were attention whores hung out together. They were always buying new outfits, comparing purses, wearing the latest styles, and they all got their hair done every four weeks on the dot. And, all the hippies hung out together, wearing their earth-friendly shoes and pull-over hoodies that reeked of weed. It’s just, I don’t know, people that are alike hang out together, right?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Birds of a feather…”

  She held my gaze. “If Shawn drives a car like Tyson’s, they’re obviously a lot alike.”

  “They seem to be pretty close friends,” I said in agreement. “I’m guessing they’re similar in many ways.”

  She grinned. “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  “Oh. My God.” I giggled. “You’re talking about his dick, aren’t you?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “What if he’s got a Roma?” I whispered.

  “Then, this’ll be the last time he sees me.”

  “Seriously?”

  She dunked the chip into the salsa and paused. “Seriously.”

  “What if he’s got a great big one?”

  “If it’s like Tyson’s?” She left the chip in the bowl of salsa and leaned against the back of the booth. A glassy-eyed stare followed. “I’ll ride him like a dime store pony.”