Beauty And The Bookworm Read Online Free PDF Page A

the obvious. “You’re only dating him because his name is Mario. You could do way better.”
    “I know, right?”
    I made a sound that was a laugh/belch/hiccup combo because Twyla, who was keeping up with me in the intoxication department, talks like a teenager when she drinks. I tried to look deep into her eyes, but couldn’t find them, so I settled on her breasts and said, with the sincerity only the drunk can muster, “I love you, Twyla, you’re my best friend.”
    “I love you, Mason… oh… Fuck me!”
    I was flattered. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but our deal is to just be friends. I hope you’re okay with that. It’ll have to be enough.”
    “No, you idiot. Glen’s here. He’s coming over!”
    I turned just in time for the arrival of Glen’s bulge. It was at eye-level since I was sitting down and I remembered it well. Did I mention Glen has a donkey dick? Well, he does. Glen’s is the only ten-incher that will appear in this story, folks, so appreciate it while it lasts.
    “Mason! God, it’s so good to see you, babe.”
    I tried to swim up from the haze of liquor I was drowning in and finally managed a little bit of eloquence. “Hey.”
    Twyla is a mean drunk. “We’re drinking, Glen. Fuck off.”
    Glen squeezed in next to me. He smelled like a distillery (I think I was smelling myself, but I don’t want you to like Glen.) He gave Twyla a used car salesman smile (he really is a used car salesman) and said, “Nice to see you, too, Twyla.”
    Twyla decided to ignore him. “I’ve got to powder my nose. Will you come with me, Mason?”
    “I don’t think I’m supposed to go into the girl’s room.”
    Twyla stood up like a zombie rising from the grave, tottering dangerously on her stilettoes. “There is no girl’s room here, just come on.”
    “Okay.” I tried my best to climb over Glen, but ended up sitting on his lap. I felt Glen’s totally undeserved blessings pressed against my backside and, in a case of what can only be attributed to muscle-memory, I gave him a thirty-second lap dance.
    Twyla was not too drunk to notice I’d turned into a down on his luck teenage runaway . “Mason, come on!”
    I gave a final grind and reluctantly climbed down from the Everest of dongs. “I’m coming.”
    We made our way to the bathroom, which Twyla cleared out by announcing  that she was not a drag queen and was about to pull down her panties. I tried to leave, too, but she stopped me by grabbing me by the collar and pulling me up to my tiptoes so that we were nose to nose.
    “Listen up, you drunk en fool,” she seethed, “if you end up leaving here with Glen, I will cut your dick off.”
    “Easy, Lorena Bobbit! I was just saying hi to the guy!”
    “Well, then you were talking out your ass as usual,” then her tone turned dangerously sweet, “Now, I’m going to reapply and when I get back Glen is going to be gone. Do we understand each other?”
    “Yes,” I said as she finally let go of me.
    I felt a little ruffled as I tottered my way back to the booth. Glen was waiting, all smiles. I sat down opposite him and squared my shoulders, preparing to give him the brush-off. I opened my mouth, but Glen was quicker.
    “I’ve really missed you, Mason.”
    I think that’s the second I entered the blackout stage of my inebriation… okay, okay, I didn’t black out. For the rest of this chapter, though, can we just pretend I was in a blackout? Give me a little dignity. The whole point of getting falling down drunk is being able to do something really stupid and then say, “I must have blacked out. I don’t remember any of that, Judge, I really don’t.”
    “I missed you,” I slurred, “I think about you all the time.”
    “You wanna get out of here?”
    Somewhere, deep in my brain, I knew I was about to make a mistake. Glen must have read the hesitation on my face, because he kicked off his shoe and started massaging my cock with his foot. I was done for.
    Twyla appeared, hands on hips