Bad Choices (Hypernaturals 8)

Perverts in the Sky

There is no way to top Morgan's performance, so I went low and raw.

"I am glad she found someone to take those little bitches because they are nothing but a pain in my ass. I want to fuck, they want Pizza. I want to bend my lady over the table, they come in and spoil the whole damn thing. You know? And holy shit is she good. The best. Top three anyway. I mean: If those girls out there are anything like her, you guys are going to be happy. And if they aren't, then I imagine you'll be able to teach 'em what they need to know. Who has the pictures now?" I asked

A guy in the back row held them up.

"That little blonde one? Sassy little fucker: she has a mouth on her like you would not believe. Pierre, if you are trying to make up your mind here, do you like them cheeky? She will talk back so fast. You are really going to have to be stern with her. The older one, the one with dark hair? She just doesn't listen. Does whatever the hell she wants. Tell her to clean up the house? Does she clean it up? Fuck no. Useless. Why even have kids if you can't get them to do stuff?" I whined.

I have two goals with my part of this Olsen and Sagan production. One: Explain why we were dropping them off. Two: Prove what an asshole I am so they believe I would do something like this.

I ascribe at least a fraction of my moral code to people I have not met, and I thought they needed to be convinced.

I was so wrong.

"Hey, mister. You ever do one of them? I mean: How could you NOT?" someone asked.

"Me? Did you see their mother? Fuck no. I like me some boobage and some ass to grab, you know?" I dropped my voice "Don't tell her, but I have this girl on the side. Waitress I met at one of those floating bar nightclub things. Tall. Shaped like.. Well.. Fuck. All curves. Bigger boobs. The whole thing. Fine as all hell in the sack too. You have never had a blow job till you have had one from her. So. No. Far as I know, those two out there? Virgins. Pretty sure. Never checked. Don't care."

I raised an eyebrow as if that thought just struck me. "Are Virgins OK? I mean, I don't much care for them myself, but you all ain't gonna give 'em back if they aren't experienced. Are you?"

The guy behind the podium, who was all in on this deal, told me "Oh, no. We'll take care of all of that. Don't you worry. You make them. We'll take them. It's the beautiful cycle of life, right?"

"Oh. OK. I just wanted to be sure. First time I was ever in a situation like this. Most of the guys I know at the bar make passes at the waitresses and shit. I had me another one you might like better. Smaller than my old lady. Blonde, like in that picture of the 10-year-old. Slim and tight. Nice butt. You may not get into that part. Anyway, one of the guys at the club calls her a 'Spinner'. You ever heard of that?"

There were vigorous nods. "Yeah. OK. Seems like a lot of you have. She is too. You just like, set her on you, and she goes to town. Every which way. God, she's so good. I am trying to figure out how to get those two together, you know. Of course, I would be about dead at the end of that, but it would be worth it. My old lady is awesome, but variety man. That's my thing."

More agreement.

"I was going to put a trapeze over the bed ..." I started on another sexual fiction, and I was going to put Helen on it in the story, when Morgan and Rachel came back in. One affirmative nod. The girl and the FBI guy were out of the way. Rachel went to fang him and tell him to wait. Morgan would have had to just clobber him: Fangs are better. Leave fewer marks, and will let us set him up with a story later.

Rachel stopped at the back row of chairs, and no one had heard them come in, so they were surprised when Morgan came up the center aisle. I met her halfway, and I kissed her.