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Authors: Christine Zolendz,Angelisa Stone

Tags: #Contemporary

#TripleX (22 page)

BOOK: #TripleX
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“Hey chick, that’s what friends are for. We’re in this together, aren’t we?” she said, getting into the car.

“Hell yeah we are! We’re taking this trip and showing forty that it can suck it!” I screamed, turning up the radio.

 

 

“No chance! I am not going in there,” Christine said, refusing to get out the car.

“Trust me, you’re going to love Nick, Seth, and Jason,” I whined. “When was the last time you went to a frat party anyway?”

“Uhhh, never! Greek life wasn’t exactly my thing,” Christine said, shaking her head.

“Well it was my thing, and I was damn good at it,” I bragged. “Come on, it’s going to be fun.”

“Listen, I never got into the whole Tappa-Kegga-Cock or the Phi-Anus-a-lon thing,” Christine stated. “You go on. I’ll go find a book store or a Starbucks and hang while you take a trip down memory lane.”

“First of all, Greek world 101, a girl never—repeat—never goes to a fraternity party alone. It’s like a law. A girl needs a sidekick,” I explained, pulling her by the arm.

Four guys, four extremely good-looking and incredibly built fraternity guys, walked by the car, each curling a keg as their biceps bulged and beckoned to onlookers. “Hey girls, getting turnt with us tonight?”

“Hell yeah, we are,” I said, grabbing my phone and clacking away at the keyboard.

“What’re you doing?” Christine asked, watching them walk away.

“Urban dictionary. Looking up ‘turnt.’ I agreed to do it, gotta know what it is,” I admitted.

Sighing and walking toward the fraternity house, she said, “For someone who thinks she’s so hip and ‘with it,’ you don’t know crap. ‘Turnt’ just means drunk, you asshole.”

“Let’s get turnt then, bitches!”

 

 

“Dude, do you really think Abby would like that?” Jason asked, leaning closer to Christine.

“First of all, I’m a woman, not a ‘dude.’ Secondly, she’s gonna love it. I mean, really love it. She’ll probably do it back to you,” Christine promised. “And you’ll love it too.”

“Jesus, you chicks rock. I always knew I’d like to tap an old bitch,” Nick slurred, shaking his head.

“I’m sitting on your lap,” Hannah stated, slapping him upside the head.

“I love it when you get rough,” he said, biting into her shoulder.

“Then take me somewhere where I can show you how rough I like it,” she groaned, taking a handful of his hair and ripping his head back. Biting his lip, she added, “And don’t ever look at another bitch in front of me again—got it?”

Alright then, maybe I was wrong about Hannah. She didn’t want a nice guy to romance her; she wanted a little BDSM. Pegged that one wrong. I just wasn’t sure at this point who was the Dom and who was the Sub in their little sordid affair.

“Who’s ready for keg stands,” Drake, the obvious party-leader of their fraternity, screamed.

“I am!” Chris yelled, jumping up. For someone who didn’t want to come tonight, she was really loosening up. Hell, she couldn’t get any looser if she tried.

“Zolendz, easy girl, I think you’ve probably had enough,” I called after her, hoping that she didn’t spew when they turned her upside down.

“I’ve had enough when Drake says I’ve had enough,” she flirted, smacking his ass.

Growling, Drake yelled, “Watch out people, I’m caging me a cougar tonight.”

“What about you, darlin’, ya wanna see what you can swallow?” a voice came from behind me, close and in my ear. Turning around slowly, I met the eyes of the most rough-looking fraternity guy I’d ever seen. No pastels. No upturned collar. Nothing from Polo, Nautica, or even Abercrombie. This guy was straight out of a country video—minus the Stetson.

“Dude, if you tell me you’ve got cupcakes or ice cream in your room, then I’m game. Other than that, I’m just going to watch my friend puke on your buddy over there,” I joked, flashing a smile and turning away from him. I had to force myself to not pat him on the head like a little puppy. I’d wanted to come here, but damn, I’d forgotten how young college-aged boys really were. Children.

“I’m not playing, sweetheart. I’m sick of these drunk-ass sorority girls. I wanna party with a woman—a real woman,” he said, slinging an arm over my shoulder.

I erupted.

Exploded.

Guffawed.

Right in the poor guy’s face.

“Holy shit! That cannot, can
NOT
, work. Seriously, you have got to try some other ammo. Ain’t no way that works—like ever,” I laughed, tears filling my eyes. “Dude, shit, why do I keep saying, ‘dude?’ You kids are rubbing off on me,” I said, shaking my head. “Anyway honey, there is nothing that a woman hates worse than being fed a big old block of cheese, and that, my dear, was as cheesy as it gets.”

Dropping his head, he turned to leave—defeated and deflated.

“Wait… wait… wait,” I yelled, grabbing his arm. “Alright Cowboy, look around, pick a girl… any of them… that isn’t with another guy.”

Cowboy scanned the room and pointed to a little dark-haired girl who was watching her friend grind on some college kid. She was staring at them like she wished she were doing the same thing. She was obviously here to party.

“Oh good choice,” I complimented. “Now here’s what I want you to do. Go over there and tell her that Professor Fitzgerald put you to sleep in lecture on Thursday. Could you please borrow her notes?”

“I don’t have a Profess—”

“I know that! Just do it,” I said, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “Then, after she says that she isn’t in that class or that she thinks you might have gotten the wrong girl. You need say something like, ‘I’m sorry. I thought you sat a few rows ahead of me.’ Then make some small-talk.”

“Like what? What kind of small-talk? What should I say?” Cowboy asked, staring at me like I was the guru of girl-tang.

“Anything,” I explained. “Ask her what her major is. Where she lives—stuff like that.”

“Alright, I can do that,” he stated, nodding his head.

When he started to walk away, I stopped him, “Hold on there Cowboy, slow down, here’s the key: Talk to her for only like five minutes, then tell her you have to be honest with her… that’s when you admit that you knew she wasn’t in your class. Even admit that you don’t have a Professor Fitzgerald either.”

He looked at me wide-eyed and confused. “Why would I say that? She’ll know I was lying then.”

“That’s when you go in for the kill,” I strategized. “Drop your head, look at her under your eyelashes, grin and then nail her with, ‘I just wanted a reason to come over here and talk to you.’ Then, you’re in like Maverick. ‘Take her to bed or lose her forever.’ I promise.”

“Seriously? You think that’ll work?”

“Trust me, you’ll be pulling out a Trojan by midnight,” I guaranteed.

“I’ll give it a shot,” he shrugged. “But wait! One question; who’s ‘Maverick’?”

Groaning, I shook my head and said, “Oh for God’s sake! Just go!”

No sooner had Cowboy sauntered away, I heard “Cougar! Cougar! Cougar!” Turning my head, my jaw dropped, and I bolted over to the upside down Christine, chugging warm Natural Light while two guys held her legs.

Once Christine gave them the signal, they righted her. Immediately, Drake embraced her, crushing his mouth against hers. Christine met his lips with her own voracious, amorous hunger. Finally, they came up for air and smiled widely. Wobbling, she regained her stance and made her way over to me, smiling triumphantly, as they were still screaming, “Cougar! Cougar! Cougar!”

“Well look at you!” I marveled. “Aren’t you quite the Sig-My-Muff fraternity groupie?”

“Get me to the bathroom. I peed my fricken pants. Ever since I had kids, I piss myself left and right,” she whispered frantically.

Laughing hysterically, nearly peeing my own pants, I pulled off the hoodie some kid had given me earlier in the night, handed it to her, and Christine wrapped it around her waist. “We do not belong here,” I stated definitively.

“We sure don’t. But it was fun as Hell,” Christine admitted.

Upstairs, waiting outside the bathroom in the hallway, I watched as some guy guided a nearly comatose blonde girl into his room while she repeatedly said, “Is that the bathroom? I think I might need to puke.” Worried he was a dirtball and up to some shady behavior, I eased my way down the hall, inching closer to the room. The door was left ajar. I glanced inside. He was taking off her heels and rubbing her feet. When she cooed, “Mmmmm that feels good,” I looked away and went back to stand by the bathroom.

Cowboy and his tiny female friend walked past me to his bedroom door. Damn, that was fast. Really fast. Apparently, Cowboy was a fast-learner. He high-fived me as went.

“Awww is that your mom?” she cooed, smiling at me.

“Nah, she’s just some cool, old lady,” Cowboy responded.

Mom? Freaking Mom? Old lady? There was no way I could be these kids’ mo—oh wait, I actually could. Damn, I needed to go back to the hotel, put on my nightgown and slippers, and read my book. This night was just way too depressing.

Once Christine came out, we passed the room again. Not being able to help myself, I peeked inside. “Christine,” I stopped her. “We’ve got a problem.” I pointed to the room where the guy was removing his jeans as the cute little, naked blonde laid motionless and completely passed out on the bed.

Christine peered inside. “I don’t like the looks of this one bit,” she said, getting a better view. Whispering back to me, “Before we do anything, let’s just make sure he isn’t just going to crawl into bed next to her and cuddle her all night.”

“Yeah right,” I mumbled, feeling sick to my stomach and wondering what in the Hell we were going to do.

Scumbag pulled down his tightie-whities, stroked himself a few times, and got on the bed. “God, that is the ugliest penis I’ve ever seen,” Christine whispered. Scumbag pushed the girl’s legs apart and hooked them up around his waist.

“Oh fuck Christine! What’re we going to—?”

“Freeze, you son-of-a-bitch!” Christine yelled, aiming a freaking gun at the guy’s head. Scumbag’s hands went up in the air and all of his “other areas” went down. It was actually kind of fascinating to watch him shrivel up like that. I never knew it could happen like that. “Get away from the girl,” Christine ordered, kicking his pants over to him. “Put these on.”

“Are you guys mother-fucking cops?” he stammered, pulling his pants on.

“Worse! We’re your worst nightmare. We’re fucking mothers—in our forties,” she said, shoving the gun into his temple. “This is how it’s going to go. You are going to walk very slowly to our car and not say one word to anyone. Not one peep out of you. Understand? You do exactly as we say, and nobody gets hurt. Got me?”

He stared at her, speechlessly.

“I said, ‘got me?’ I’m not screwing around with you,” she gritted through her teeth. “One false move and the videos we just took on our phones goes viral—and to the cops.”

We didn’t take a video. Damn, we should’ve taken pictures for evidence.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded.

“And do not call me ‘Ma’am’ ever again,” she growled.

 

 

“Do you know where we’re going?” I asked, driving down the highway. Christine was in the back of the Jag with a gun pulled on Scumbag.

“Yes, get off at the next exit. We were coming here later tonight, anyway—as a surprise. Ya know, to commemorate our last night in Chicago,” she stated, easily.

BOOK: #TripleX
6.05Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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