Page 75 of Bourbon Kingdom
“You act like you’ve never been in a sexual experience with us before, Lo,” Francy said with a raised eyebrow.
“We don’t talk about that,” I warned.
“Wait, what?” Lyla asked. She laughed and walked over to sidle up for story time. “What’s this I hear about a possible lesbian encounter? Oh, please, tell.”
“You’re supposed to be standing in line, go on,” I tried to shoo her away.
“Damn, relax.” Lyla smiled. “Why is this so important anyway?”
I finished up Tootse’s breasts and grabbed my canvas as I spoke, “Because, there is an art contest that I want to enter. Whoever wins gets a spotlight in the art gallery on Royal. It would be a dream come true.”
“So, you’re squishing breasts against a canvas to win?” Francy asked, confused.
“Yes,” I said, matter of factly. “It’s all about interpretation. Now, put your back against the wall, Tootse, and for God’s sake, do not move.”
Like the good little girl she was, Tootse backed up against the wall and put her hands on her head like we practiced together before I painted her breasts. We had to do a couple of practice rounds, so she knew what she was getting into.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“Ready,” she nodded.
I held the canvas stiffly in my hands and angled it to the side as I pressed it against Tootse’s breasts, giving her my own personal form of a canvas mammogram. Pulling away quickly, I looked down at the canvas and was pleased when I could visibly see the outline of her nipples.
“Oh, this is awesome,” I praised myself, going in for another press, but at a different angle.
As I continued to reapply paint and press Tootse’s breasts against my canvas, the girls grilled me about my love life, something I was very much expecting when they came over. I was just surprised it took them so long to ask about it.
“So what’s going on with Jett?” Lyla asked, just as I finished up with Tootse.
I took a blow dryer in and started drying the canvas, so I could move on to the next pair of breasts without smearing the colors together.
“What about him?” I replied, acting nonchalant. I was still a little uneasy about the whole dating thing. I mean, I wanted to date him, fuck did I want to date him, but it just seemed too easy, like I was giving in too easily. The man put me through a lot, and I felt like I was going against all of womankind by just saying yes.
I could hear the women’s rights activists shaming me now, by chanting over and over . . . doormat, doooormat!
Even though these women were in my head, they could fuck off, because until they had been fully inserted with the tree trunk resting pleasantly between Jett Colby’s thighs, they could back the hell off. Plus, the moment he talks to you intimately in that deep southern voice of his, fuck me in the damn vagina I can’t stay away.
And it’s not all physical, hell no, there is an emotional connection I have with him, one that has grown stronger over time. At first, it wasn’t that strong, but over time, since he’s been opening up slowly, I’ve come to know the man I’ve always been curious about since I met him at Kitten’s Castle.
I wanted to flip him off, to send him on his way, to show him that he couldn’t always control my heart, but I would have been lying if I’d said that. The man had a hold on me, the kind of hold that would last a lifetime, so instead of fighting it, I was going to let it happen. I was going to fall all over again, but this time, it would be on my terms. If he wanted me in his life, in his bed, and in his arms, then he was going to have to fucking work for it.
“Don’t act like nothing is going on. Blane told us Jett stopped by the other day at the square.”
Rolling my eyes, I pulled Francy over to my painting area and started spreading green paint all over her breasts. “Blane is such a gossip. I would swear the man spends his nights bouncing on his bed in a pink nightie with his hair clipped in bows while talking on his red lip phone.”
“Does he have one of those?” Francy asked, while she raised her arms for me. She was much more professional at getting her breasts painted than Tootse, not that there was really a professional aspect of it, she just wasn’t squirming around like a child.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he does,” I answered.
“Babs really likes him,” Lyla added.
“Who, Jett?” I asked.
“No, Blane,” Francy answered. “Come on, Babs and Jett are like brother and sister.”
“Who fucked,” I said. “Don’t use that comparison with them; it’s just wrong.”
“Understandable, but seriously, to all of us Jett is a friend, and that’s it. Once you walked in the club, we knew he was done for.”
