The genre poll ends tomorrow (see Thursday’s post for details). And the fairy journal contest (Tuesday’s entry) continues, so be sure to post today!
Humor’s always tough to write. It’s all the pacing of the scene. Also, humor doesn’t translate across cultures very well. So what’s funny to one person won’t be to another. I don’t worry about all that crap and usually just let go. The last time I wrote something that left me giggling hysterically was this little scene. Hope you enjoy it half as much. ~DD
“Ms. Devlin will have readers laughing one minute and screaming the next… Bad, Bad Girlfriend is a witty, heart pounding smoking hot read that is a must have.” 5 Angels, Fallen Angels
“Bad, Bad Girlfriend is just plain fun!… A great quickie from a great author.” 5 Stars, Just Erotic Romance
“My emotions ran wild while reading Bad, Bad Girlfriend… Don’t miss this mischievous woman’s attempts to secure her man’s love. I had a fantastic time reading Jolie and Gabe’s story.” 5 Silver Dragons, Veiled Secrets Reviews
Expect magic when one determined woman dons a legendary pair of red stilettos and bares body and heart to get her man’s attention…
Jolene’s a big, beautiful woman with an even bigger heart. But she’s become her police officer boyfriend’s favorite doormat and that’s so not working for her. It’s time for a little conversation, time to tell Mr. Happy Pants to “pee or get off the pot”.
Gabriel has seen what his profession does to marriages. He’s not willing to risk that kind of heartbreak. Besides, he likes what he has with Jolene. The woman is sex personified. So when Jolie tells him she won’t see him anymore if he’s not willing to commit, he’s shocked and angry.
With a girlfriend’s encouragement and the added confidence a certain pair of red stilettos gives her, Jolene arranges a special show at a strip club to prove to Gabe once and for all that she’s more woman than any man can handle, and if he doesn’t want the job, then she’ll find another lover who does.
Jolie heard the music, tried to catch the beat, but she’d never been so scared, so embarrassed in her life.
She knew she’d made a huge mistake the minute she’d entered the stripper’s dressing room. Lexie had ushered her in after Guppy, the skinny, bespectacled manager of the strip club, let them in the back door and showed them to the women’s dressing room. She already wore her costume under a tightly belted trench coat, but getting her first up-close look at the other women awaiting their turns on the stage made her lose her nerve.
She turned back toward the exit.
Lexie stood behind her, her arms crossed over her chest. “No you don’t. Not after I paid him a hundred dollars to let you do this!”
“You paid him?”
Lexie shrugged. “He prefers professionals, but he’s not above a bribe.”
“Great. You had to pay him to let me take off my clothes. Get out of my way.”
Lexie’s chin firmed, and her eyes narrowed into the meanest look her friend could manage. “You talked me into this. You convinced me this was a good idea. No way are you going to chicken out now.”
“They’ll laugh at me,” Jolie whispered furiously.
The other women, even the curvier ones, weren’t as well-padded.
One the women nearest them, eyed Jolie in the glass as she applied a wide streak of eyeliner. “We’ve had big girls before. Some of the men prefer ’em. Give it a go, hon.”
Jolie didn’t appreciate the advice and straightened her spine, ready to walk right through Lexie if she didn’t get the hell out of her way.
Lexie lifted her chin. “You want a ring, remember? A commitment. You want him to notice you, know you’re desirable for more than your cupcakes.”
Jolie swallowed, her eyes filling. “I’m scared.”
Lexie’s militant expression softened. “You’ll do fine. In ten minutes, it’ll all be over. And you’ll know whether the shoes were meant for him.”
Jolie nodded slowly. “I couldn’t get the pasties to stick, the adhesive didn’t work on top of the body lotion I applied.”
The stripper eyeing her in the mirror turned and held out her hand. “Give ’em to me. I’ll show you my little trick. Works every time.”
Reluctantly, Jolie pulled the little gold-glittered pasties from the pocket of her coat and handed them to the woman who towered on a pair of platform PVC boots.
“Get out of that coat. Have to show your boobs. It’s just us girls here.”
The other girls laughed, but their smiles seemed friendly enough. Jolie didn’t like being the center of attention and especially didn’t like the fact her “girls” were everyone’s focus, but she opened her coat and let Lexie slide it off her shoulders.
“The bra too. Can’t paste ’em on top of those cones. Nice bra by the way.”
“Thanks,” she said faintly. “The Whip and Tickle had a sale.”
“Name’s Angie,” the redhead said, grinning, “since we’re about to get friendly.”
Jolie’s eyes widened. The woman took a small bottle of glue sitting beside her open makeup case, circled the pasty then twisted it onto Jolie’s boob.
Jolie held her breath, shocked to her core. Her nipple beaded beneath the little circle and the pasty began to fall away.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Angie said. “Happens all the time to me. It’s cold out there.” Angie peeled the pasty off the rest of the way, carried it to her mouth and licked it then twisted it back onto Jolie’s nipple.
Jolie knew she must have earned a ton of bad karma as the women laughed around her.
“They’re just laughing at your expression,” Angie said. “We all have our little tricks for keeping these things hiding the pearlies.”
Jolie suffered through Angie twisting on the second one, and didn’t even blanch when she licked it.
But she didn’t dare give Lexie a glance. She could feel her shaking beside her, clinging to her arm as she got ready to let loose with howls of laughter.
“Just remember,” Jolie clipped, “I know where you live, Lexie Burns.”
“Sorry,” Lexie gasped, covering her mouth with a hand. “You should have seen your face.”
“Yeah, it was pretty funny,” Angie said, her smile stretching. “You’re ready. Get that bra closed. You’re up next. Give that boyfriend hell.”
Lexie tossed Jolie’s coat over the back of a chair and grabbed Jolie’s waist, pushing her out the door and down the corridor toward the side of the stage. The curtains were closed.
Guppy signaled to her from the far side. “Get in the middle and I’ll open ’em up.”
Jolie dug in her heels. Lexie pushed harder, and Jolie couldn’t get the traction she needed with the tiny stiletto tips scraping across the wooden floor. When she was behind the curtain, Guppy gave her a thumbs-up, and Lexie darted back.
The curtains started to open, but Jolie grabbed both sides and held them closed. “Oh hell no.” She’d gotten a glimpse of the crowd when the curtain waved.
The bar was packed. A dozen or more heads and shoulders peering above the edge of the stage. They’d be looking up her ass.
“Let go of the curtain,” Guppy yelled.
Jolie shook her head. “No way in hell.”
Hands slipped over hers. “Let go, Jolie,” Lexie bit out, trying to peel back her fingers. “I paid for ten minutes but you can do five and I won’t even make you pay me back.”
She squeezed Jolie’s hands, but Jolie gripped the fabric tighter.
They stumbled against the curtain, and she felt the curtain give a little from the top.
“You girls tear it down, you’re payin’ for it!” Guppy yelled. “Still got your credit card, missie.”
“Let go!” Lexie growled.
“I changed my mind. Musta lost it. No man’s worth the humiliation.”
“Give…the shoes…a chance.” Lexie dug her fingers under the waistband of Jolie’s shorts in the back and tugged.
“You tryin’ to give me a wedgie?”
“Worked in high school.”
The elastic at the back of her thong popped and Jolie let go to give Lexie a glare when the curtains swished open.
Lexie hid behind the edge as it retreated, leaving Jolie in the center of the stage, pushing the remnants of her thong down her crack. The movement thrust out her chest and the men around the stage began to howl.
Jolie crossed her arms in front to hide herself, but only managed to press more of her boobs over the top of the shiny cups.
“Bump and grind! Bump and grind!” Lexie shouted from the side.
Well, she was already out there in her underwear. What the hell? Jolie closed her eyes and listened for the music again, this time she felt it and took a couple of shaky steps forward. The stage narrowed to a catwalk, lights trimming the edge. Hands reached high, shaking dollar bills. One grabbed her ankle, but she shook him off and continued forward.
She caught a glimpse of two figures closing in from the front of the club, two tall, broad figures wearing dark uniforms.
Dear God, they were here. Gabe’s face was tight, hard. His fists curled. And he was coming fast.
The look on his face shouldn’t have excited her, but it did. She shook back her hair, turned on her heel and shook her ass for the crowd.
She heard his shout, but it only served to spur her on. She turned, squatting near a handsome dude whose eyes ate her up as she bounced and leaned forward.
His fingers slid under the edge of her bra and stuffed a dollar in her cleavage. She gave him a wink and glided up, turning to bend over and stare at him between her legs before easing up again, and rolling her hips, popping them to the music.
“Take a twenty!” another man shouted.
She strolled like a runway model, putting a finger in her mouth and standing in front of him to trace a wet path down her belly to the snap of her shorts.
“Show us some more skin!” he shouted, waving that bill.
Jolie gave him a wink, feeling more assured of her attraction, squatted in front of him and leaned forward to get the money. However, he grabbed for her boob, nearly pulling her from the stage.
A bouncer ran up and pulled him back.
Jolie gave Gabe a sideways glance. You see that, baby? Your precious milk-and-cookies mama is gonna start a riot.
She bent toward the man seated next to the one who’d been hauled backward from the stage. He stuffed a cool, crisp twenty into her shorts. She went to her knees and opened the top toggle of her bra.
Shouts and whistles started and she leaned back, smoothing a hand down her belly and back up then opening another latch. One more to go. Would she have the nerve?
“Jolie, don’t do it,” Gabe shouted.
But Gabe didn’t own her ass. Didn’t own her boobs. He hadn’t claimed an inch of her skin.
She opened the last clasp and held the edges closed over her breasts, and slowly rose, walking to the end of the stage right in front of Gabe. With his hot, angry stare locking with hers, she opened her bra wide, flashing the crowd and shaking her glitter-topped tits. Take that, Gabe Devine.
A hand reached up and grabbed for her ankle.
Jolie tried to kick it loose, but the man was rising from his seat. “Come here, baby. Rub those titties on my face.”
She teetered and let out choked scream, falling toward the man. But he flew backward and another set of arms caught her.
A shoulder hit her belly and she folded over a wide, muscular frame. Gabe’s butt flexed beneath her gaze as he stomped toward the doors.
The doors whooshed open and he carried outside and down the steps. Cool, wintery air prickled her skin, drying her sweat immediately.
“Put me down,” she said. “It’s cold!”
But he didn’t slow his pace, not until he reached the squad car and opened the back door and flung her inside.
Jolie landed in a sprawl of legs and arms and climbed up from the floorboard to kneel on the seat, staring back at Gabe who hunched over to glare inside the car.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he blasted.
Jolie shoved both hands on her hips and yelled back, “That it was about damn time I started looking for another man.”
“In that place? Did you want to get raped?”
“I wanted someone to notice me.”
His eyes narrowed to angry slits. “All you have to do is breathe deep to get a man’s attention.”
Jolie realized her bra still gaped open and that Tyler was walking up behind Gabe.
“Gonna ride in the back?” he asked Gabe. “Or are we gonna book her?”
“For what?” Jolie said, lifting her chin to dare Tyler to stare. “I didn’t break any laws.”
“Gimme a minute,” Tyler drawled, his gaze sweeping over her chest. “I can start with inciting a riot.”
“Indecent exposure,” Gabe bit out. He slipped into the back seat and slammed the door closed.
Tyler spoke into the mike up front, telling dispatch they were taking a break. Then he pulled out of the parking lot.
“Wait!” Jolie said as they entered the road. “Lexie’s still back there.”
“Lexie knows she’s in a heap of shit,” Tyler said over his shoulder. “She’s on her way to her car. If she doesn’t pass me in three, we’ll go back for her.”
A car pulled up alongside them, and Jolie stared at Lexie who gave her a cheerful wave and passed them.
She gulped down several deep breaths and slowly turned back to Gabe. His gaze was glued to her nipples. He lifted a finger and traced the edge of the pasty.
His movement was slow. Too slow. And then she saw his hand was shaking.
She raised her head slowly and locked glances with him.
His face was still tight, his lips pressed into a straight, narrow line. His eyes bored into her, his body radiated hot fury. “You did this on purpose. You knew I’d be there.”
She raised her chin. He’d have to drag the details out of her only if he tortured her. Unfortunately, she had a very low pain threshold.
“Almost there,” Tyler called over his shoulder.
A muscle alongside Gabe’s jaw flexed. When the car slid into her apartment parking lot, he held perfectly still, waiting as Tyler got out and opened the trunk of the car. The door beside her opened and Tyler handed her a blanket, which she wrapped gratefully around her shoulders.
She’d forgotten how cold it was. The air stung her naked breasts.
Tyler opened Gabe’s door, and Jolie decided to make a dash for it, running on the stilettos toward the door, trying to beat him to it. But boots slapped the pavement behind her, closing in.
Gabe grabbed her hand, swung her toward him, ducked, and once again she was reeling as he upended her and carried her toward the door.
“How’d you think you’d get inside?” he growled. “Have a key stashed in your underwear?”
She didn’t like the nasty edge of his voice, but she opted on the side of caution and kept silent. Besides she could barely catch her breath because she bounced on his hard shoulder as he stomped across the foyer, passed the elevators and stalked up the three flights of stairs.
Jolie was staggered by his strength. He wasn’t out of breath. She couldn’t help it, but the caveman act was doing it for her.
Moisture flooded her channel but didn’t wet a thing because gravity was holding the warm liquid inside her.
Her breasts scraped against the itchy woolen blanket and she prayed they’d get there soon because she was ready to explode. Ready to go wild.
At last he pushed through the door that opened onto her floor and strode toward her apartment. But he didn’t put her down; he unlocked the apartment and hurried inside, kicking the door closed behind them.
Then she was sliding downward. He caught her between the door and his large body. He shoved her upward as soon as her heels hit the floor and from the rustling below, she knew what was coming next.
Her shorts opened and he shoved them down. His pants opened and then his cock was pressing at her portal, ramming past her entrance, stretching upward as he brought her down his shaft.
“What the fuck were you doing?” he whispered, leaning into her, his hips beginning to hammer against her, his mouth just above hers, still tight, his teeth bared.
Jolie quivered against him and lifted her legs, clinging to his hips and pressing her chest against his to force him back and give her room to move, but he wasn’t having it.
He jerked and tunneled, so close she couldn’t drag in enough air. Her head swam, her eyes filled, and only when the tears streaked down her cheeks did he lower his head and cover her mouth.
But he didn’t deepen the kiss. His eyes were open, those blue orbs glaring.
She blinked to meet that stare, but couldn’t stay stubborn for long because she was coming—fast, hard, her body vibrating and writhing against his in the shallow space between him and door.
The sound of her thrashing, knocking against the door, was overloud, masking her gasps and whimpers.
When she finally hung limp against him, he came out of her and let her slide down to the floor.
He stepped back, stuffed his swollen cock into his pants and zipped up. “Don’t go out tonight. You be here. We’re not done.”
Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs: