Ball Peen Hammer Read Online Free PDF Page B

makes a little noise of excitement and grips my hand tightly. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
    “Aw, you’re a sweetheart, Francesca. It’s such a pleasure to meet you. It really is, Francesca —a huge pleasure .”
    Francesca looks ready to jump my bones right here and now on the porch. “I’m sorry to go on and on complimenting you,” she breathes, still holding my hand. She takes a step forward, pulling our bodies together. “Forgive me. I’ll stop in just a second, I swear. But you’re perfect. I mean, literally . I can’t stop staring.”
    I smile. “Aw, Frankie. Can I call you Frankie? Thank you. Such a pleasure .”
    Look, I never say this out loud because women dig a guy who at least pretends to be somewhat humble (outside the bedroom, anyway), but the truth is I know I’m most women’s idea of physical perfection. If I had a dollar bill for every time a woman has hit on me, totally out of the blue—and I’m talking about my buddies’ moms and women standing in grocery-store lines, not just women at bars or my shows—or, shit, if I had a nickel for every time a woman’s told me she’d do just about anything to experience one night of pleasure with me—then I’d be a millionaire by now. No, actually, a billionaire —not even exaggerating. Probs even a trillionaire . No lie.
    My new admirer leans forward, giving me a nice view of her curves. “Hey, would you take off your glasses for a sec?” she asks. She glances behind her, toward the raucous sounds of the party inside the house. “I just want a quick peek at your eyes before I take you in there and throw you to the she-wolves.” She bites her finger, and her massive wedding ring sparkles in the dim light of the porch.
    “My pleasure, Francesca.” I lower my sunglasses and level her with my best smolder—and she gasps. I wink, smile, and slide my mirrored glasses back over my eyes.
    “Wow. Your eyes are gorgeous ,” she breathes. “I think you might be the most attractive man I’ve ever met.”
    Cha- ching . Add another nickel to my trillion-dollar bank account in the sky, baby. “Thank you,” I say. “So, hey, will you do me a favor when we get in there, Frankie? Will you cut the music and lights?” I motion to my speaker. “I’ve got my show all cued up for you pretty ladies.”
    “Sure thing,” Francesca says. “You ready to head in there now... Officer Hammer ?”
    “I sure am. And so is my hammer.” Another wink.
    She bursts out laughing. “Oh my God. Follow me, sweetie.”
    “My pleasure, Frankie.”
    I follow her through the entryway of the large house, admiring her round ass as she leads the way.
    We turn a corner and I’m met with a familiar and awesome sight: a group of women, all of them obviously buzzed and chomping at the bit to let their freak flags fly. One of the women (clearly, tonight’s bachelorette) is sitting in the middle of a couch, wearing a sparkling tiara and beauty-queen sash that proclaims in large, glittering letters, “I LOVE COCK!”
    I can’t help but smile at that. From what I’ve seen over the past year and change of doing this awesome job, bachelorette sashes usually say “FUTURE MRS. SO-AND-SO” or “BRIDE TO BE.” Looks like this is gonna be a particularly rowdy group.
    “Oh, laaaaadies!” the Gatekeeper calls out to her friends, prompting them to look our way—and, just like that, the room bursts into a gigantic Molotov cocktail of estrogen. Awesome .
     
     

Chapter 5
    Keane
     
    “Allison Mendocino?” I bark in my best cop-voice.
    “Oh my God!” the bachelorette shrieks, putting her hand over her heart.
    “There’s been a criminal complaint filed against you, Allison. It seems you’ve been a very bad girl.”
    The overhead music cuts off and the lights in the room go dim. Quickly, I flip on the swirling, multicolored lights attached to my portable speaker, press “play” on the song I’ve cued up—“Candy Shop” by 50 Cent—and strike an athletic stance a