Love Sick

by HJ Bellus

  She’s on the dance floor, but instead of Roberto leading the dance, she’s the one taking charge. And take charge she does. Wank Stain could be considered a stripper pole right now the way Raylan moves on him. Every single part of her is letting go and finding her groove.

  I hope to hell she’s downed a few shots since taking to the dance floor and she’s not letting go with Wank Stain Roberto. The longer I watch her, the more unsettled I grow. I’ve never backed down from a fight in my life. I'm not about to start now. Hell, I’m known for stepping into fights where my fists don’t belong, defending the honor of my friends. For a chance of tasting my little Ray of Sunshine’s sweet nectar on my tongue again, I’d go fist to cuff with the biggest motherfucker on this ship.

  I play a different game than Wank Stain. The only dancing between us will be her pussy juices waltzing over my tongue. I’ll have her body to the point where her pleasure turns into pain because she’s sated. My dick punches at my zipper, thinking about lying on a white, sandy beach with her talking about everything and nothing at all. It grows to a painful point, stabbing through my pants picturing Raylan’s face as she takes in new wonders of the world.

  My face grows red, hot, and angry when Wank Stain palms Raylan’s ass cheeks while gyrating her from the front. Have some couth, dickhead. Raylan handles it smoothly, pushing off his chest, and spinning into a dance move.

  “Good girl,” I whisper.

  Watching her from the corner of a bar and whispering to myself creeps me the fuck out. I have no right to be angry with her right now. Deciding to lick my wounds and call it a night for real this time, I order and down one more drink, just enough Jack to keep me calm tonight.

  Fourteen

  Memphis

  Because I’m walking away from Raylan right now, it doesn’t mean everything inside of me agrees. I want nothing more than to take care of the issue out on the dance floor. It’s the egotistical, caveman banging on the door wanting to come out and play. In the end, it’s the gentleman who walks out.

  The merriment buzz of couples in love and happy families fill the corridor. A window display attracts me to the gift shop, and I find myself walking in. It’s the typical shit you’d find in any tourist trap. I grab a Snickers then think to hell with it and grab all my other childhood favorites from Skittles, Starbursts, to a KitKat bar. Dude, I’m turning into a chick eating my feelings away. I swear I feel my nipples hardening and a vagina sprouting.

  “Is this all?” a pissed-off gray haired woman asks from behind the desk.

  I check her name badge catching her name. “Actually, Carla, I’ll take a pack of Marlboro Lights and your cheapest lighter please.”

  The old bag appears to be having a worse day than me, so I send her some Flynn Ryder smolder to turn her day around. I’m a movie buff, consuming everything from shoot ‘em up, kill ‘em dead right down to Disney films. Flynn is badass. My spirit animal brought to life in animation.

  Crotchety Carla doesn’t seem to agree, slinging the box of cigarettes across the counter. “Anything else?”

  “Nope, picking up enough old, bad habits for one day,” I shoot the smolder her way again.

  Not one single reaction. Shit, I thought for sure I was good for at least a nostril flare. Nothing. The woman needs dick. It cures everything and would shape her right up.

  I pay for all the shit that’s going to kill me, snag my bag, and send her a wink. “Go ahead, you know you want to.”

  This at least gets a reaction. Her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

  “Stare at my ass all you want when I walk out of here.”

  Crotchety Carla does the unthinkable and turns that frown upside down, restoring my faith in all mankind. Damn, I had a bit too much Jack making me the fun, dumbass drunk. I try to stay away from that man since he’s known to make me do some dumb shit over the years like have a penis fight with Rhett or helicoptering my dick in a nursing home. See why I stay away from that drunk me? It always ends up involving my dick and Crotchety Carla would bite him off.

  Something shiny catches my eye before I step out of the gift shop, making me stop. It’s a simple, delicate silver chain with a unique sun in the center. The rays are twisted with each one having a style of its own. I grab it from the carousel without giving it a second thought.

  “Back for the encore.” I lift an eyebrow in Carla’s direction.

  She smiles at me, ringing up the necklace with the best possible customer service.

  “We’re open twenty-four seven if you need anything else.” She winks.

  I grab the bag from the counter and wink right back at her. “Sounds like a plan. Enjoy the show, gorgeous?”

  I get a whistle from Carla this time. It takes me a bit to find the smoker’s deck. Smokers are chatters. They’re known for being friendly folk. I collapse down in a chair, thankful the deck is vacant for now. The night air is refreshing and now all I need is nicotine and chocolate. Yep, turning into a chick. Using my thumb I flick the lighter to life and inhale until the end is cherry red. The first few inhales make me feel light and relaxed.

  It’s a terrible habit, but so is fucking for money and drinking too much Jack. I’ve learned to shrug that shit off and indulge. It's got me to where I am today. Solid game plan, dumb fuck.

  I bring the cigarette to my lips and inhale, letting my mind drift away. This is equivalent to a smoke after phenomenal sex. I’m exhausted, relieved, and satisfied with my decision. It should’ve been done a long time ago. Now, to win over a little ray of sunshine and it will be clear sailing ahead.

  The candy binge of all binges went down with wrappers strewn everywhere as my proof. It was damn good for the soul. I remain on a strict diet once at home because nobody wants to see a dad bod up on the stage. I look over the necklace sitting on the nightstand and shake my head. The necklace itself is beautiful, but the sentiment of a sun and me referring to Raylan as my little ray of sunshine is cheesy as fuck.

  The whole tale of how we met is unbelievable. If I were to tell this to any one of my friends back home, they’d piss their pants laughing. I don’t think this shit happens in those smut books at the grocery store.

  Raylan falling in my lap, the instant connection, the We-Vibe, me taking a taste test, that right there is not ordinary everyday shit. It’s all going down in the blink of an eye. My normal pace. Balls to the wall. Not to mention all the Iris drama and my past that threatens to end us before there is an us. It’s what intrigues me the most about Raylan and our connection.

  My buzz from earlier that was seeping from the fun crazy drunk to flat out drunk is long gone. Still, I have several bottles of Jack in my room. Iris had the place stocked, knowing exactly what I like. I refuse to ever take her money again, but not going to get all judgy when it comes to Jack. No need to throw him into an awkward situation.

  Loads of sugar and warm Jack never mix well, under any circumstance. It’s impossible to enjoy warm Jack. It needs to be ice-cold always, no questions asked. Warm and consuming reminds me of one thing or actually person. I growl to myself, craving to feel that warmth on my tongue again. I’d give up Jack for that the rest of my life. Sorry, Jack. The corridor is a ghost town on my way to the machine.

  The ice tumbling into the metal bucket is like a bomb detonating in the eerily silent hallway. My mouth waters, remembering Raylan’s sweet taste and the way she writhed in the bed sheets. It doesn’t only water but it begs for more.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, peering down to the teepee in my gym shorts. It looks like a pow-wow with all the chiefs is going down in there.

  “Melting popsicles, rainbows, hairy buttholes, Captain Crunch,” I mumble to myself. This goddamn trick never works for me. My balls ache and my cock throbs under one layer of material. My damn nipples are hard. I’m blaming that shit on the chilly hallway and being shirtless, not my ovaries.

  “C’mon, boy.” I place the lid on the bucket and stare at the teepee, willing the fucker to go down. With my luck, I’d poke out a
little kid’s eye with it. I can see it happening now. The little shit is running down the hall not watching where he’s going, rounds the corner, and BAM! It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.

  That thought alone should tame the beast, but it has a mind of its own and is ready to dick around.

  “Slime? Dirt, hair, Rhett’s dick.” I try again. Viola, the image of Rhett’s dick, does the trick, shrinking him down to a solid chub. I reach below the waistline of my shorts, grabbing him by the base, giving him a squeeze and pinch. The pain shoots straight down to my ball sac then to my toes. Fucker, it better behave next time.

  I pull my hand out before I’m caught with my hand in the cookie jar and pat my crotch. “Sorry, boy, you gotta start listening.”

  I’m losing my ever-loving fucking mind, standing at an ice machine, talking to my dick, and giving it orders like it knows tricks. Dicks are a man’s best friend and favorite tool, but I’ve gone a bit far with this one. I can't blame it on the Jack this time. Sugar. That fucking sugar high; no wonder kids are so whacked these days.

  The travel back to my room remains quiet. I'm a bit shocked that Iris hasn’t come banging on the door yet. Thank my lucky stars, I took those videos when I did. It was something in my gut that told me I better have back up ready if she ever tried to hold me hostage. There are several copies stored as well.

  Tonight with Iris brings me right back to thinking about Raylan. We all know what thoughts of her do to me, so I quicken my pace. Will she look at me again? Give me a chance? Act like she knows me? Is she bouncing on Wank Stain’s dick?

  That’s enough of that. I pull the key card out from the pocket of my shorts, resting the ice bucket against my chest, sick with my last thought. This girl has done some serious damage to my head. My normal MO, rock it and dock it, abolished when she entered my world.

  “Shit,” a feminine voice calls out then THUD.

  The ice bucket lurches forward with the contents spraying all over the hallway. Two palms plant into the bare skin of my back, thrusting me forward. My forehead collides with the hall, knocking me in a daze for a few seconds.

  “I’m so sorry. Oh my God.”

  The combination of her voice and smell hit me at once. Raylan. The clumsy, gorgeous woman who has been hijacking all my thoughts. I turn to see her. She must realize who she ran into and does her best to back up. But in true fashion, she goes sailing backward onto her ass. Her arms are flailing in the air. The cell phone she was holding launches for my forehead.

  My reactions are fast enough to catch her phone and save myself from another mild goose egg, but not quick enough to grab her.

  “Jesus, Raylan.” I bend down, extending a hand.

  She pushes the mop of brown and honey colored hair out of her face, letting out a huff of air. “I need to start watching where I’m going.”

  I smirk. “Yeah, you do. I mean you were in a hallway. It’s not that…”

  “I was looking at my phone, ass.” She shoves my shoulder, but I catch myself.

  “What the hell could be so interesting on your phone when you don’t have service? You got some bedtime porn saved on this bad boy?” I wave it in front of her.

  She rolls her eyes, but I can tell whatever she was looking at she doesn’t want me to know. I decide to push her to see where this will go. I slide open the home screen to find out she doesn’t have a passcode. I peer up at her before studying the screen.

  “My sweet, naive Raylan, you always have a passcode on your phone. Without one, you’re asking for trouble.”

  “Fuck off.” She’s stealthy in her tactics, scooping up a handful of ice and chucking it at my forehead. “I’m not yours.”

  I don’t flinch when the cubes bounce off me. She’s on the move, forcing me to move faster. I look down at the phone and bite my bottom lip to stop the laughter then flip to the next picture and then the next one.

  “Memphis, give me my phone.” She swings her arm out, going for it, but I hold it above my head.

  “Nice spank bank, Raylan.”

  “You had no right to look at it.”

  “It’s a picture of my crotch and other pictures of me lounging on the deck. Hell, you zoomed in so the imprint of my dick is clear. And you’re telling me I have no right to look at it?”

  “Memphis, I'm trying really hard right now. This vacation was supposed to be all about me. A time to have fun and be carefree. Before I boarded this damn ship, you were ruining my trip. I am done. Over it. Adios. Hasta La Vista, Baby. Ciao. Aloha. Bon Voyage. Bye, Bye for now. Have an excellent life. How many more other ways can I tell you I am done with this?”

  I raise an eyebrow in question to her because I don’t believe a damn word she’s spewing right now. She’s pissed and has every right to be, but there’s no way in hell she’s over me. A woman as strong and beautiful as her doesn’t walk around on her cell phone with pictures of my dick imprint on it.

  “We need to talk, Raylan.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and stomps down a foot. “There was plenty of time to talk earlier, but no, you were too worried about the Cougar Cunt and her feelings.”

  I can’t help my interruption in the form of laughter. It’s her stance and the way she acts pissed off. Don’t get me wrong she’s pissed, but not used to showing her emotions in the battle of confrontation. It's the smartest move on my part, but it’s what she does to me. The woman has put a spell on me.

  My laughter sends Raylan into a fit of rage, making her want to get away from me more than she already does.

  “You find it funny to have your Cougar Cunt call me out in the ballroom and humiliate me? The whole time you’re at her side. Excuse me, King Dick Pin, you really are the type of guy I’d love to take home to meet the parents.”

  I counter right back. “You want to keep throwing a fit and sling accusations? Or would you like to come in and talk about it?” I wave both hands in the air. “You know like how adults do it.”

  I put extra emphasis on the do it, knowing she’ll pick it up.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m going in there and talking to you. Dr. Love, you can get over your Goddamn self, your looks, the way you are with women, and rest up for your night tomorrow with the Grandma Gonorrhea Gang."

  “You sure have a lot of time on your hands coming up with those fancy nicknames. But if you want your phone back you will be coming in this cabin, and we will have words.”

  I turn my back on her, bend over and grab the key card off the floor, and unlock my room. I walk in and hold the door open, not making a move until she does. The universe has brought together two very stubborn souls. It’s a Goddamn stand off. Bad cop, good cop and neither are budging.

  Raylan stares at me, then at my hand on the door knob, and her stare bounces to her phone in my hand. Yet, neither of us make the first move. It’s agonizing as hell because all I want to do is grab her by the base of her neck and drag her into my room against my chest, tell her how it’s going to be, and start the beginning of our story.

  I know better than to do that. It’s simple, Simon. Fucking common sense. She’d knee me in the nuts, denting my teepee on a permanent basis for a lifetime, take her phone, and I’d never see her again. I don’t move, and I’m not going to move until she does.

  She gives in, unfolds her arms, and stomps into the room like a pissed off toddler.

  Fifteen

  Memphis

  If you could see steam rolling off a pissed off person this would be the time. I close the door and lock the deadbolt for good measure in case of a rogue escape plan. Jesus, now I'm holding her captive what’s going to happen next?

  I’m starting to think this relationship between us is fire and gasoline destined to end in a very, nasty, ugly disaster. I have her so pissed off right now I’m not sure there’s any hopes of talking this out with her.

  I place her phone down on the counter, dead center between the two of us. I move faster than her and am more agile on my feet, so if s
he looks like she’s going for it I’ll beat her to the punch. Again, we find ourselves in a standoff of silence, a battle of wills, and both of us are too afraid to give in.

  I know why I’m afraid to start talking because this could very well be the end for us. She could tell me to fly a Goddamn kite and never look back. I’d be a lost puppy with no cause. I know deep down I’d go full-out stalker mode on her. Apologizing to my dick at the ice machine would be the least of my worries.

  Raylan takes a step toward her phone, and I match her. She stops dead in her tracks when she knows I’m on to her game. Her arms go firmly across her chest again, and this time I take the time to admire how they push up the perfect amount of cleavage. That same Goddamn sundress that Roberto had his hands on all night.

  “You want to talk big guy, so get on with it.”

  “Are you going to drop the attitude or are you going to keep this charade up, Raylan?”

  “Oh, I don’t know Dr. Love. Why don’t you tell me?” She twirls a long piece of hair around her finger, over exaggerating my stage name. “It seems everything is fine when your Grandma Gonorrhea Gang isn’t flanking you on each side. You are so badass when you roll with them. Can I be in your fuck them all gang?”

  I take a step closer to her even though she hasn’t moved and cross my arms, matching her position. “Okay, I’m going to talk like adults here.”

  She has the balls to cut me off. “Oh my God, Dr. Love, don’t hurt yourself! What would the universe do without your brain power or more importantly your cock strength?”

  “Fucking comedian, you are tonight. You want this? I’ll give it back as good as you’re giving. You want a pissing match. I’ll take you on.”

  “Oh, no, Dr. Love.” She clutches her palms to her chest, feigning distress. “Not the super cock that brings all the grandmas to your yard.”