SHIVER: 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror

by Liv Morris

  Renee stared at me for a moment. “Did you talk to your therapist today?”

  I flipped her off just before our principal, Mrs. James, came in.

  “Good morning, girls. Where’s the coffee?”

  “Mrs. James, since I think you’re the coolest principal out there, I’ll save you from drinking the sludge they consider coffee.”

  “Mrs. Kramer made it again, didn’t she?” She sighed.

  Both Renee and I nodded.

  “Damn,” Mrs. James hissed. “The woman can organize files like no other, but when it comes to making coffee it’s like she dug up a dead body and ground it into a pot. Anyways, are both of you ready for the school Halloween party?”

  I was not a fan of Halloween parties. I think it’s because I was traumatized by Rachael McCoy’s Halloween party in the third grade. She made everyone play this game where we had to stick our hands in bags that were labeled things like “brains” and “eyeballs,” when it was just food. I was caught eating the “intestines,” which were licorice rope. The other kids made fun of me for days after.

  “Yeah, about that, Mrs. James. I feel like I’m coming down with typhoid fever. I might have to take a sick day.” I moaned and put my hand on my forehead for emphasis.

  “Moxie, If you were on your death bed, I would still get you for the Halloween party even if I had to tape your body upright to a pole,” she said.

  “But Mrs. James—” I whined.

  “Moxie it’s the party or you’re on bus duty all winter.”

  “Morning or afternoon shift?”

  “Both.”

  “You don’t play fair, Mrs. James, but”—I pointed my finger at her—“you’re a worthy opponent.”

  “See you ladies later. I need to see about getting Starbucks delivered,” she said, walking out the door.

  “See…” I turned back to Renee. “Even our fearless leader needs quality caffeine.”

  “Again, good luck bringing that up in the staff meeting,” Renee said.

  “I’m not afraid.” I stood and gathered my things. “Amber is like a monkey. I’m sure she’s used to shit being thrown at her.”

  Chapter 2

  I pulled up into Miles’s driveway about two hours after I left school. Miles moved out of the city a few months ago so his son Dilion could have more room to run around and “be a boy.” Miles had moved with Dilion from Maine after his wife was killed in a car accident two years ago. After I vomited on Miles at our unusual first meeting at the bar, I had been surprised to see Miles again, this time as the widower father of my new student Dilion. I went on to form a great relationship with Dilion who was much smarter than his seven years gave him credit for. The boy knew more than I did. Okay, sometimes a flea knew more than I did, so I supposed that wouldn’t be the best comparison.

  I loathed driving from the city into the suburbs. Taking the train would be better, but then I’d be stuck without a car and places were too far apart to walk. The grocery store was a mile away, for crying out loud. That was like when my ancestors walked from Egypt to the Holy Land, forty days and forty nights. Therefore, I’d been stuck in traffic, looking at the guy in the car next over as he picked his teeth. I swore he picked his entire lunch out of there.

  I pulled my house keys out of my purse and let myself in. Yes, I had my own set of keys to Miles’s house. After a night of hot sex, he presented me the keys and said I had all access to his dick anytime I wanted. After kneeing him in the nuts for that comment, he apologized by going out at three in the morning to buy Funky Monkey ice cream for me. Good man.

  “Moxie!” Dilion ran up for a hug.

  “Hey, bud, how was school?” I kissed the top of his floppy brown hair.

  “Good, but Mrs. Washington didn’t believe me when I told her you consume one tenth of a calorie when you lick a stamp.”

  “And did you do what I told you to do when Mrs. Washington disagrees with you?”

  “Moxie…” Dilion whined. “I can’t throat punch a teacher. Plus she’s too tall.”

  “Then take her knees out like Tanya Harding.”

  “Who?” Dilion scrunched his face up in confusion.

  “Never mind,” said a much deeper voice from the kitchen.

  I bent down so only Dilion could hear me. “Next time, tell that crotchety old woman her breath smells like banana peels after being left out on the pavement on a hundred-degree day.”

  He laughed and skipped back to the family room couch to resume his game on his tablet. I walked into the kitchen to see my beautiful Adonis chopping vegetables, and I snaked my arms around his waist. Miles was tall and sturdy. Not like a football player, but the man definitely had some muscle. I pressed at kiss to his back and he craned his neck sideways to look at me.

  “Trying to corrupt the young one again, I hear,” he said with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

  I unhooked my arms and popped a piece of red pepper from the cutting board into my mouth. “I’m teaching him how to defend his argument. He’ll need to learn how to do it when he joins the debate team in high school.

  “I don’t think taking your opponent out by shattering their kneecaps is part of the debate team.” He put down the knife and turned to face me.

  “I disagree. I was on the debate team in high school. Mike Cameron tried to defend his argument of whether they should put vending machines in the cafeteria.”

  “And what was your defensive?”

  “I argued that you shouldn’t pay girls to give you blow jobs in a bathroom during math.”

  “Who won?”

  “I can safely say, I had Cheetos and a Snickers every day for lunch my sophomore year.”

  “That’s my girl,” Miles said, embracing me.

  I buried my head in his gray shirt, which was one of my favorites because it outlined his torso just enough to make me crave what was underneath. His cologne wafted into my nose, and I felt a tingle south in my Bermuda Triangle. Scent had always been a hot zone for me. Miles’s scent turned me on faster than a meth head running from an exploding lab.

  I couldn’t help myself as cupped his massive cock. He was already halfway hard.

  “Someone is happy I’m here.” I nuzzled my face in the crook of his neck. I loved that Miles was tall. His six-foot-four-inch frame easily encompassed me at five seven.

  “He’s very happy you’re here. Maybe you should give him a kiss… with tongue.” He palmed his cock and gave me a wink.

  I backed away and slapped his shoulder. “Your son is in the next room, you fiend.”

  “Hasn’t exactly stopped you before. Remember the time Dilion and I were playing Wii, and you said you had a problem in the bathroom? If I recall, the problem was that my dick wasn’t inside you.”

  “It was a problem. A very large and thick problem.” I winked. “What are we having for dinner, chef?”

  “Stir-fry and rice.”

  I reached for another pepper, stopped, and looked at Miles. “Oh God. That’s not that quinoa shit, is it?”

  He laughed. “No, it’s regular white rice.”

  “Oh, thank God! Quinoa is like eating gravel.”

  I went to the cabinet and grabbed some plates to set the table. Being at Miles’s place felt like being home. As much as it sucked commuting into the city for work, it would be nice to actually live with the two boys I loved beyond words. It wasn’t the same as going home to an empty apartment and a vibrator that needed new batteries.

  “I got a call from Ryan today. He’s invited us to a murder mystery getaway for Halloween weekend,” I said.

  “He told me at the station today. I think it would be fun.”

  “Seriously? How about instead of the getaway, I create my own mystery. I kidnap my obnoxious Girl Scout student Katie and have a trail of Thin Mints leading in different directions to throw people off.”

  Katie had the perfect technique down for selling her Girl Scout cookies—blackmail. One might be surprised at how cunning a seven-year-old could be, bu
t she knew what she was doing. One time I told her I wouldn’t buy any cookies, and her response was she would tell the other kids in class that I secretly ate chocolate behind my desk while they worked on their assignments. I’m convinced she is the child of the devil.

  Miles looked up from the stir-fry. “It wouldn’t be a mystery, then. Everyone would know it’s you because of the trail of Thin Mint crumbs from your desk to the woods.”

  Putting the final utensil on the table, I turned and put my hands on my hips. “Hey, murdering someone is hard work, and maybe I got hungry from exerting myself and nibbled on a couple of cookies.”

  “Anyway, you can’t do it unless you want the entire Girl Scout troop coming after you with pitchforks and torches,” he added, taking a fork from the drawer and poking me lightly with it.

  I started laughing. “I can see it now. They will lower Katie’s casket into the ground while singing “Kumbaya,” and instead of throwing flowers into the grave, they would throw assorted cookies.”

  “As long as we get conjugal visits while you’re in jail for murder, I’m all good with the plan.”

  “I’ll have to clear it with my prison wife. I don’t want to cheat on those bitches or else I’ll get shanked in the middle of the night.”

  Dilion came into the kitchen holding a hand written sign which said: Will not eat vegetables. Hunger Strike in progress.

  “Sticking it to the man again I see,” I said, pumping my fist in the air to show him my alliance.

  “Dad buys stuff with GMOs in them, and I demand all organic vegetables and other products in this house.”

  I looked to Miles. “Why can’t this kid be dumb as rocks and make fart jokes like other kids his age?”

  “Because he insists on watching the Nightly News with Brian Williams instead of depleting his brain cells watching SpongeBob SquarePants.”

  Dilion and I sat at the table while Miles brought over the stir-fry and rice from the stove. I loved it when we all ate together. It was a peaceful time where we shared the daily happenings of our lives. This meal was so unlike when I grew up. My stepmother would measure out my portions of food while my dad took his plate and eat in front of the television. Apparently Wheel of Fortune took precedent in our house.

  “So, Dilion, any thoughts on what you’re going to be for Halloween this year?” Hoping he would choose something others understood. I heard last year he had to explain his Alexander Graham Bell costume to every house he went to.

  “I was thinking either Gandhi or some other Nobel Prize winner.”

  “What, Spiderman and Darth Vader costumes out of stock?” I asked.

  “Everyone dresses up as those guys. I want to be something different.”

  “But you’ll have to explain what you are to every house you go to.”

  “No, I’ll just tell them I’ll break their knee caps if they don’t give me candy like you taught me.”

  Miles froze with a fork full of stir fry and his eyes shifted to me. I gave him a cat-swallowed-the-carney smile.

  “Kelly will have to take you trick-or-treating this year because Moxie and I are going away.”

  “Yay! Aunt Kelly is awesome, and she lets me stay up late. Where are you guys going?” Dilion shot out of his seating and started bouncing up and down while clapping. I was a little disappointed he didn’t want Miles and I to take him. I wanted to see him dressed up and collecting candy from neighbors. Then I might have snuck some candy out of his bag when he wasn’t looking.

  “We’ve been invited to a haunted mystery weekend,” Miles said.

  “Aww man! I want to go to that.”

  “Trust me, Dilion. If I could give you my spot, I would. But I don’t think you’ll look good in a red wig, and we would have to stuff pillows in your pants to make it look like you have my same butt,” I added.

  “I’ve heard Dad say your butt looks bootylicious, whatever that means. Do you guys get to dress up?” Dilion asked.

  “We all get parts to play for the weekend. So I think we have a dress up like our characters would dress,” Miles answered.

  I raised my glass. “Well, here’s to hoping I get to play the school tramp.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Miles smiled as he clinked his glass with mine.

  Chapter 3

  It was the Friday before Halloween weekend and our getaway. But first, I had to survive the Halloween party at school with my students. Every Halloween the Girl Scouts put on a spooky carnival for the students and teachers to enjoy. The only thing spooky about this carnival was Mrs. Simmons, Katie’s mom. She was the head troop leader at the school and the PTO president which meant the Girl Scouts where taking over the school much like when the Nazis took over Germany. Trust me, there isn’t much of a difference between the two.

  Mrs. Simmons was like Martha Stewart on speed. She was always perfectly dressed with her blond hair tied up in a twisty bun. Her makeup was flawless, her teeth were impeccably white, and she wore a rock the size of Russia on her wedding finger. Her husband did something with hedge funds or hedgehogs or something of that nature. Whatever the case, Mrs. Simmons had a lot of extra time on her hands to make my life a nightmare.

  If matters weren’t bad enough, students and staff had to dress up for the event. Since I couldn’t put the dirty devil costume I wore for Miles to use, I came up with something family friendly. As a special nod to our classroom pet, Chloe, I decided to dress up as a bunny. It also helped that it was a low-cost costume, and I could use it again with a bow tie and be a Playboy bunny for Miles at another time. I wore a pink long sleeve shirt, bunny ears, and pink yoga pants with a puffy tail pinned to my ass.

  I sat at my desk, checking my e-mail before the kids came in for the day, and saw I had something from Ryan.

  To: Moxiebun86@ibsglobal.com

  From: Rystheguy@ibsglobal.com

  7:38 a.m. CST

  Subject: Questionnaire

  Hey Mox,

  Here’s a questionnaire you need to fill out. The party host likes to give out characters that are similar to our own personalities. When we get there they will give us character information cards with everything we need to know. Sounds like fun, right? RIGHT?

  Love,

  The Always Fashionable BFF

  Homework was involved with this weekend, and it irritated me even further. I wanted this weekend to be a show up, get drunk, get laid, and go home kind of weekend. Maybe get laid and then get drunk. I’d have to feel out my mood.

  To: Rystheguy@ibsglobal.com

  From: Moxiebun86@ibsglobal.com

  8:03 a.m. CST

  Subject: Can’t I go naked?

  Stud Muffin,

  There’s a scary idea.

  Love,

  The only one you can’t live without

  I downloaded the attachment Ryan sent and figured I had some time before the kids came in. If Ryan wanted me to have fun, then that’s what I was going to do.

  I read the first question: How would you describe your personality? Really? They needed my personality traits. I felt like I was applying for a job and they were checking to see if I played well with others. I thought it was time to make this questionnaire fun.

  1. How would you describe your personality? I would say I’m a deep thinker. I spend most of my time reading The Economist and eating brie cheese. Some people might say I’m antisocial. But they wouldn’t know because I don’t talk to them. I have a sunny disposition, but then again, I never go out to see the sun since I’m agoraphobic.

  2. What do you do for fun? I enjoy spelunking in dark caves. I find it extra exciting to find a bat so I can bite its head off like Ozzy Osbourne. However, I prefer the lighter colored bats. The darker ones taste a touch to gamey. I also enjoy cow tipping and betting on giraffes fighting each other to the death. I won five thousand dollars on Betty the giraffe. No one thought she had it in her, but I saw a special look in her eyes.

  3. What is your favorite kind of food? Fava beans and a nice Chianti.


  4. If you had to describe your worst enemy, who would it be? Wait, is this questionnaire from the government? I told those rat bastards I didn’t know anything about the release of monkeys from the medical testing facility. They’re watching me, aren’t they? I’ll have to check my phone for bugs. I will not fall over for the Man.

  5. What is your favorite color? Chartreuse.

  6. Who is your favorite actor or actress? The robot from Lost in Space. His talents were highly underused. How many places were the words “Danger, Will Robinson” appropriate. I tell you… many.

  Kids started piling into the classroom as I sent back the e-mail and shut my laptop. All my students were dressed in a variety of outfits including feathers, sparkles, gory masks, and more.

  “Okay, everyone put your stuff away and come to the meeting circle.”

  I put my bunny ears on my head. I even went as far as painting my nose pink and drawing on whiskers. I was a very serious actress, and I dedicated myself to the role I was playing. But instead of carrots, I ate Twinkies for breakfast.

  A few minutes later I sat down in my chair and scanned the room to make sure none of my students were goofing off by the cubbies. “Good Morning, everyone! Is everyone excited for the Halloween carnival?”

  The kids screamed in their loudest voices. It’s a good thing I kept Tylenol in my desk drawer because sometimes those screeches were enough to give anyone a migraine.

  “Why don’t we go around the circle and tell each other about our costumes?”

  Olivia, who was dressed up as Cinderella, raised her hand.

  “Yes, Olivia?” I said.

  “Miss Summers, what kind of cat are you supposed to be?”

  “I’m not a cat; I’m a bunny like Chloe, our class pet.”

  “So does that mean you poop in a litter box, too?”

  “Umm, no, Olivia. I use the potty like everyone else.”

  Another boy, Ethan, pointed his finger at me. “You said potty!”

  All the kids laughed like hyenas while I realized the next generation was completely screwed and had no chance for producing intelligent people. In an effort to change subject, I pointed at Quinn who was dressed in what looked like a woman’s suit.