Fawn rolled over on her stomach, idly kicking one leg up and down and tossing her blond locks in abandon. If Johnny’s eyes were lasers, her ass would have burst into flames. She grabbed the remote control that was sitting in front of the alarm clock. “You like porn? I love porn! Let’s watch some porn.”
“Uh, okay.”
She clicked on the set. “What have we got here? . . .
“Cool,” said Fawn. “Pin the tail on the donkey.”
The quickest way for Johnny to get out of his clothes was the epileptic floor-flop method. He jumped up in his birthday suit.
“Wow!” said Fawn. “They weren’t kidding about the finger-size thing. Be careful not to knock over any lamps.”
“What?”
“That was a joke.” She ran a hand slowly around her left breast. “I could really use another drink. And why don’t you make one for yourself, too. I like a drinking man.”
Johnny almost somersaulted to the minibar. He mixed up the simplest cocktails and raced back to the bed.
Fawn took the cold glass and pressed it against her cheek. “That feels sooooo good.” Then she placed it farther south . . .
Johnny knocked over a lamp.
“Easy there, fella,” said Fawn. “Let’s watch what this clown’s doing on TV. I want to be
Johnny crawled into bed. Literally. His legs were shot.
Fawn took a big sip of the drink. “That doesn’t taste bad, considering you weren’t measuring and just splashing everything all over the table and furniture.”
“Thanks.”
“Ooooo, I want you so bad. I want you in me right now.”
“Me, too. I mean you. I mean—”
“Wait, what’s this?” asked Fawn.
“What?”
“Did you get an unwashed glass?”
“No, why?”
“It looks like there’s something in the ice cubes—”
A geyser of foam gushed out of the glass. Up her nose and in her eyes.
“You son of a bitch! Is that your idea of a joke?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You put Mentos in the ice cubes and made me a rum and Coke. I know that prank.”
“I swear I didn’t.”
Fawn was already halfway back in her clothes, sliding the top over her head. “And you wouldn’t believe what I was thinking of doing to you! Now you’ll just have to imagine.”
“But, baby, the people who stayed here before us must have made the ice cubes . . .”
Fawn slowed on her way out of the room. She turned around. “You know, you’re right. We just checked in. You wouldn’t have had time.”
“Exactly,” said Johnny.
“Maybe I was a little hasty.” A mischievous grin returned to her face.
Johnny sat up with renewed optimism.
Fawn began a slow, sexy grind dance in place where she stood. She tucked a finger in her mouth and sucked it as her hips swayed to the music in her head.
Johnny gulped:
Fawn continued grinding as she slowly pulled the moist finger from her mouth and put it . . .
Johnny practically choked on his tongue.
“Oh, you like that?” she said with a husky bedroom voice.
Johnny concentrated to remember how to nod.
Another wicked smile crossed Fawn’s face as her other hand slid lower. Her eyes and mouth formed an expression of pure lust.
Then her face changed. She felt something tickling the back of her bare feet. Whiskers.
Fawn ran out the door.
Johnny looked down. A small mouse disappeared though a perfectly semi-circular hole in the baseboard. HOME SWEET HOME.
The weeping started as barely audible peeps, then rose up through his chest in loud, body-racking sobs as Johnny cried into his own drink.
Chapter Twenty-Five
STRANGE BEDFELLOWS
Serge sat and smiled.
The man on the other side of the desk smiled back. He wore a white dress shirt and red tie. His jacket was over the back of his chair. Twenty-nine years old, tops. He tapped the eraser end of a pencil to indicate he was a man of action.
“So you want to volunteer?”
“Absolutely,” said Serge.
“That’s great,” said the man. “We can always use more good people.”
“More is good.”
“But you didn’t bring a résumé?”
“Résumés can come back to bite you,” said Serge. “Paper trails and all.”
“Ahhh, yes.” The staffer nodded with understanding. “By that comment, I see you must have had a lot of experience.”
“Definitely,” said Serge. “I’ve been an American my whole life, and I’m ready to get to it!”
“No, I mean working on political campaigns.”
“I once beat up a flag burner.”
