When Sparks Fly (Sexy Secrets Book 2)

But alas, I am at my parents’ home and alcohol is not allowed
in the house…this is my mama’s rule; a rule that my daddy doesn’t follow
because I saw him earlier soaking his beloved fruit cake with a bottle of rum.

Before I go any further, let me introduce myself. I am
Olivia Grace Simone. I am 32 and the youngest child of Ruby and Leo Simone. I
am home for the Christmas holiday with my family.

Where is home?

Well, I live in Richmond, Virginia, but my parents still
live in the house that I grew up in which is in Atlanta, GA - well a suburb of
Atlanta – Sandy Springs. No matter where I live – my parents’ house will
always be home.

All of the Simone children have come home for Christmas this
year. I was the last to arrive – which was earlier today – December 23
^rd.

My older brother, Leo Jr, who is 38, still lives in the
Atlanta area with his wife Denise and their twin girls. In fact, they live
just down the block from my parents’ home.

My older sister, Paris, who is 35, arrived last night from
Seattle – with her latest boy toy in tow. She said she only brought him to get
Mama off her back about being single and 35. What she did was open a can of
wedding and baby talk…which is the topic of discussion right now at the dinner
table. Mama just asked Paris if they have plans for a Summer or Fall wedding.
I am pretty sure Mama is just messing with her and knows that the boy toy is
not a boyfriend.

I giggle softly because Paris’ boy toy is looking a bit
green and Paris is giving Mama a ‘what the fuck’ look.

As I am sitting beside Paris, she hears my giggle and gives
me a hateful look…right before she slides her glass my way. As discreetly as I
can, I pull my flask of Jack Daniels from my sweatshirt pocket and pour a few
fingers into her glass of Coke. I do a quick scan, making sure that neither
Mama nor Daddy see me doing this and they don’t, but by the matching smirks and
raised eyebrows on my nieces’ faces, they see.

Those two whores-in-training better not say anything.

Oh – maybe you think calling my nieces whores-in-training is
a bit much.

Meh…maybe, but I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong, I
love them to pieces. Besides, I would never tell anyone that I call them that
in
my head
. They are smart (taking after my brother) and beautiful (taking
after their mama). However, it seems that they also take after their mother
with their, shall we say, ‘whorish’ tendencies?

Let me give you a history lesson so you can see how I came
to my whores-in-training title.

Denise Simone (née Lever) is the same age as yours truly –
32. Her daughters (my nieces) are 16…you do the math.

I know, now-a-days it is not so scandalous if you happen to
get knocked up at 16 and end up still married to the father of your babies 16
years later. That sounds more like one of those high school sweet heart love
stories.

That is so not the case here.

Denise got knocked up at 16 and she didn’t know whom the
daddy was. There were there possible daddies – one being my brother Leo Jr.
This was quite the scandal in our little neighborhood. The blood tests
conducted after my nieces’ birth confirmed that my brother – who was 22 at the
time - was the daddy. He was also the youngest of the three possible daddies.
The other two were 25.

Denise had been flirty since she was 13 – that is a term my
mama uses.

I like whorish better.

She was one of those girls who developed early – you know
the type – beautiful face, big tits, tiny waist and the ingrained know-how to
use it.

Although we are the same age and went to the same high
school, we never ran with the same crowds. She was one of the in-crowd, while
I didn’t belong to any particular clique. I was more of a loner and awkward,
mostly keeping to myself until my senior year.

My two lovely nieces – Danielle (we call her Dani) and Daisy
are the spitting image of their mother – with one exception, they have my
brother’s beautiful weird gray-green eye color.

So, let’s rewind - they have their mama’s looks (with the
bodies to match) and my brother’s beautiful eye color – neither which makes
them whores-in-training. What makes them whores-in-training is their sketchy
behavior.

I was home for a visit over the summer and was visiting with
my brother at his house while Dani and Daisy had a few friends over for a pool
party.

No big deal except that all their guests were boys; not one
single girl other than my nieces. They both had on matching bikinis that left
little to the imagination.

And let’s not forget their alternate Facebook profiles –
this is separate from the one that the family has access to – their alternate
Facebook page is titled “Double D’s” which is a play on their names and tit
size. I only know about their alternate Facebook profile because Paris caught
them this morning taking ‘provocative’ pics for the profile. What do I
consider provocative for 16-year-old girls – let’s see, duck face, Santa hat
and topless….well, topless as in they both had an arm across their ample and
barely contained bosoms.

Paris sat them down and talked to them about what they were
doing and their self-worth. I don’t think they got it because they are both
currently in clothing so tight that I think I can see their spleens. Before
dinner, Paris’ boy toy kept a too keen eye on them and they ate up the
attention.

Now can you see why I call them whores-in training?

So where was I?

Oh yeah –my nieces have just witnessed me pouring a little
bit of Jack Daniels in Paris’ glass. They don’t know it’s Jack Daniels – but
they are smart enough to know it is something alcoholic. I am not worried that
they will tell my mama (their nana) because she will never believe them. You
see, I am the baby of the family and I can do no wrong. One would think that
being the baby of the family, I would be the wildest but no, I was a Miss
Goodie Two Shoes – and still am to a certain degree.

Leo Jr. and Paris gave my parents plenty of sleepless night
during their teenage years. Two particular incidents stand out in my mind.

When Leo Jr. was 16, he took Mama’s car (without
permission) and went to see his girlfriend. On the way back from her house, he
wrecked the car (he wasn’t hurt). When the police station called the house and
informed my parents what had happened, my lawyer daddy told them to keep him overnight
and he would pick him up in the morning.

When Paris was 16, my parents and I were coming home from
dinner. Paris didn’t go because she wasn’t feeling well. Well, we walked in
on her while her boyfriend was performing oral sex on her on the living room
floor. At the time, I had no idea what they were doing. My parents quickly
ushered me upstairs to my room, but I listened at the top of the stairs. I
still remember my daddy ranting and raving and Paris screaming back that she
was still a virgin since she and her boyfriend only engaged in oral sex and not
real sex.

My biggest transgression was staying out past curfew - one
time – by five minutes.

So let’s see, what else I can tell you about myself – well,
I have a 2-year-old French bulldog named Chewy. He is a spoiled little shit
who thinks he is human, but I love the little stinker to pieces. Currently, he
is asleep at my feet, his bat-like ears twitching as he sleeps.

I absolutely love my job. I’m a jewelry designer for one of
the bigger jewelry store chains. Additionally, I have an on-line storefront
called
Simply Simone
where I sell my own jewelry line.

I also have another ‘job’, which is pretty great too,
although this job is one that only three people know about – the person who
hired me, the person who does my taxes and me.

My jewelry design job and on-line store brings in a decent
yearly income, but coupled with my other job; I am quite comfortable
financially.

So, what is my other job…well, I am a sex toy tester. I bet
you are wondering how one becomes a tester of sex toys.

Well let me tell you.

Sadly, I haven’t had sex in almost four years and two years
ago in my quest to find the perfect vibrator; I came across a sex blog that
reviewed sex toys. I purchased a few toys on the blog’s recommendation and by
chance, I noticed an ad for a sex toy tester. Apparently, the blogger was a
sex toy tester for a few sex toy companies and she needed help, so she was
looking to hire two toy testers. Oh a whim (mostly due to the Jack Daniels and
Coke I was sipping on at the time), I applied. Two months later after going
through two phone interviews, submitting a writing sample and a Skype
interview, I became an official sex toy tester.

So what does my job as a sex toy tester entail? Once a
month, I get a box full of toys and my job is to try them out then write up a
review - which is posted on the blog under my pseudonym
Playful One
.

Getting paid to masturbate is definitely a way to get rid of
my Miss Goodie Two Shoes title.

__________________________

The next couple of days are a whirlwind of family and
friends coming in and out of my parents’ house as we celebrate Christmas.
Although I have enjoyed the time with my family, I am very ready to head back
to Virginia. It is December 29
^thand I am in my childhood bedroom
when my daddy comes in to take my suitcase to my car. I round up Chewy and
make sure I am not leaving anything behind. After saying my goodbyes, where my
mama gets a little teary-eyed (and I do too), I make the almost nine hour drive
to Richmond – making a few pit stops along the way for restroom and food breaks
– for me and Chewy.

I pull into the driveway of my home at a quarter till
seven. I quickly text my parents letting them know I have made it home safely.
After feeding Chewy and myself, I take him for a quick walk and then crawl into
my bed – surrendering to sleep rather quickly.

__________________________

Two days later – New Year’s Eve

I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom;
looking at myself from every possible angle. My golden brown micro braids are
pulled back with a sparkly rhinestone clip with the ends spilling down my back
in loose curls. I have on more make-up than usual. I have played up my big
brown eyes with black eyeliner and charcoal-colored eye shadow. I have managed
to cover up the sprinkling of freckles that cover my nose and cheekbones with a
light application of foundation. My full lips are a deep glossy maroon,
slicked with my favorite lip-gloss. The butterscotch-colored skin of my
shoulders and décolletage are lightly sparkling with the shimmery body powder I
applied before getting dressed.

I have on a strapless black sparkly sheath that lands a few
inches above my knees. The sales lady told me it would be perfect for my
event. My black pumps add four inches to my 5’5” frame. I don’t wear heels
often because I don’t always walk well in them, but these make my legs look a
mile long and the heel is chunky so I can walk in them fairly well.

So where I am going all dressed up?

I am on my way to a New Year’s Eve dinner party that my
friend Jacqueline is hosting. I would rather ring in the new year at home with
Chewy, but I promised her weeks ago that I would attend.

Jacqueline Allen (née Rogers) is one of my oldest friends.
I have known her since we were Brownies together. Even though I have known her
most of my life, she hasn’t always been in my ‘real’ friend column. When we
were Brownies together, we were best friends, but at as we got older, our
friendship changed. We were still friends, but only away from school. At
school, she acted as if she didn’t know me. At first, I was hurt, but after my
mama sat me down and talked to me about what a real friend was, I just ignored
her at school too.

When we reached our senior year in high school, she began to
speak to me at school again. This time confused, I talked to my sister Paris,
who was in her junior year at the University of Washington. She told me some
nonsense about Jacqueline realizing that I could be a potential threat since I
was a hottie and it would benefit her to befriend me publically. I scoffed at
the idea since I was certainly not a hottie; I was still the same person I had
been all through high school - shy and awkward Olivia Grace Simone.

Nevertheless, I started to hang out with Jacqueline and her
friend Taylor along with the other kids in their clique. We were friends
during senior year of high school and kept in touch when we went off to
college; me to Savannah College of Art and Design and both of them to the
University of Georgia.

I was fortunate enough to land a job right out of college.
It was also the time when Grammy (my daddy’s mother) passed away and left me her
house in Richmond. I moved to Richmond when I was 23. Jacqueline and Taylor
came for a visit shortly after, fell in love with the city and they both moved
to Richmond less than a year later. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, but I
could never tell them that, so they never knew how I felt.

I look at myself one more time in the mirror, satisfied at
my reflection. If I don’t leave now, I will be late and if I am late,
Jacqueline will more-than-likely have a little hissy fit.

__________________________

I pull up to the circular driveway of the Allen’s McMansion
and I am surprised when a valet opens my door – but then again, I’m not. It is
no secret how wealthy Jacqueline and her husband, Alton are. While Jacqueline
is a stay-at-home-mom (they have a 4-year-old daughter), Alton is a bigwig
executive at a tobacco company headquartered in Richmond.

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