Doubull Indemnity

12

This chapter contains explicit sexual content.

Greg,  P̶r̶u̶d̶e̶ Scoundrel

I caught Isla just before her head smacked against the hard floor. She was hot. I don't-I didn't mean-get your mind out the gutters! She was downright feverish. Cradling her head and lower back, I laid her gently on the bed. She couldn't seem to stop panting. Her pulse, too, had shot up to an unnerving, sprinter's pace. If the sprinter's heart was about to explode from a steroid overdose.

"H-hope not everything you do is that, uh, that fast," she said.

And then burst into giggles.

Oh no. oh no oh no oh no oh no.

"Hey," I tapped her cheek. "Isla, look at me."

She blinked her eyes open. They were glassy and dark. Upon meeting my gaze, she licked her lips, oh fangs, old boy you've poisoned her.

"Shit, we need to get you to Penn, or, I don't know, a witchdoctor. Listen, you drank-stop squirming please-you accidentally drank a love potion. Your pulse is racing. Please, stay calm. We need to get you an anecdote before you, I don't know," (irresvesribly fall in love with me?), "imprint on a lamp or something--oh hell it's too late."

Under me, Isla thrashed with laughter. Those little capped sleeves of hers didn't stand a chance, catching on the sheets and dragging her dress dangerously low with every wiggle.

"I tried to tell Phoebeeee! It wasn't that  kind of l-love potion.  It's more like a, ah, um, a love endurance potion."

"A what?"

"You gave me magic Viagra, not a magic roofie, you s-sexy idiot."

Oh nelly. The stallion hair.

"Are you sure?"

Isla wiped the tears forming in the corners of her eyes and motioned for me to lift her up. I did so, careful not to let her clothing slither off. She sighed at the slightest touch (which had no effect on my nerves in the slightest). Once upright, she fanned herself. She was flushed. Cheeks to chest to ears. Heartbeat showed no sign of slowing. Neither did her excessive panting.

"Seriously? You've never used one of these before? Ha! Prude! Billy and I used to, uh, we used--" her eyes fluttered shut and for moment she swayed. I tried to hold her steady by the shoulders, but she only shuddered and shooed my hands away. "How, uh, how much was the dosage?"

"Um, uh, fangs, hold on," I zipped off the bed to my jacket on the love seat. Tried to keep one eye on her-she seemed to blink, dizzy and unfocused, in my general direction-as I flipped through my notebook. Of course, of fangning course, Isla's recreationally taken illicit potions before. Should I have expected anything less? "Got it. Max dose 50 mils. Do not exceed that in 48 hours. Each bottle is... each bottle a 100."

The cinnamon whiskey lay empty on the floor not two feet away from me.

"Ah, well, that's def not-not good for my blood pressure," Isla slid back against the pillows, pawing at the knot in her top, "-fairy nards, is it hot in here or just me?"

Before I could answer, Isla won the battle against the fabric and her breasts sprang free. She threw her head back into the plush pillows, arching her back, offering her bare chest to the ceiling. Her, uh, nipples puckered into stiff peaks.

Isla glided a hand down the length of her body and pressed into the damp spot already forming on her dress. Her legs spread wider. She hooked her fingers around her hem and pulled the dress further up her thighs, exposing her already drenched thong. Plain as day. Or what I presumed to be plain as day.