Human Interaction Read Online Free PDF Page B

papa!"
    "Mine!"
    "Mine!"
    "He likes my boobs better."
    "No, you floozy, he likes mine better. They're bigger than your fried eggs."
    "My brain is the size of a walnut, I'll have you know."
    "Yeah, well, mine is the size of a… a… beer nut. Besides, you have a big ass."
    "Why, you trailer trash."
    "Takes one to know one!"
    Crash. Slap. Curses.
    Yep. I think some of those women would be the perfect candidates after all. Hmmm. There's a possible title to my paper. Bimboland and the men that come… visit.
    Chewing my lip, I debated my options. He wanted me to brave the masses in order to stick my dainty paws in his Speedo. In the meantime, I would have to try to avoid being trampled, felt up, knocked to my knees, and my precious corner table nabbed by someone else. Where was Indiana Jones when you needed him?
    Meat's eyes peered directly into mine from his place at the front of the room. His grin taunted even as he tilted his head, indicating my time had arrived. He shimmied closer, hips thrusting in lewd suggestion, and blatant challenge.
    Grabbing up the two five dollar bills, I headed to the stage, snaking past one group of women, and elbowing through others. Sweat broke out from the efforts to even make it close enough to reach him. Or maybe the heat from the spotlights held responsibility. After all, Meat shone with it, too.
    I experienced a mysophobia inspired moment. "No touchie! No touchie!" I had enough sweat of my own, didn't care to share anyone else's. Besides, who knew if they'd washed their hands after leaving the bathroom? Money held prestige as a big time carrier of nasty germs. Add to that the fact that nasty, money-infected, germy hands groped down some guy's pants that might or might not have washed lately. Come to think of it, wonder where that part had been right before his stage call? Ewwwwwww.
    With one final shove, I felt the edge of the stage against my belly. Looking up, I located the guy who already knew how to push my buttons and tapped my toes until he meandered back in my direction. No way would I relinquish my front row seat after such a battle to get that far.
    He found me amongst the crowd and his grin widened. The recently discarded shirt lay on the stage floor already. Keeping his gaze locked onto mine, he tugged the leathers hard enough the Velcro gave way. A dark line of hair led from his belly button downward, meeting up with the only material left on his body. My eyes followed it down of their own volition. I stared up at a black leather thong with a quite noticeable bulge in the front. Blinking, I stood transfixed at the scene in front of me. I could have sworn he laughed at me.
    The woman next to me cooed as she tucked money into that Speedo, indicating that he should look her up after this dance, as she would love to do things I didn't dare think about, let alone repeat.
    Gripping the money, I waited for my opening. He wiggled, the bulge didn't even budge inside his skivvies.
    Which brought about another question. Are those things supposed to move inside their confines? Or are the thongs too tight they are almost glued into place? Maybe he sprayed that sock with the stuff that beauty pageant ladies sprayed on their rears to keep the swimsuits from riding up?
    Ow! The woman next to me stomped my toe in her effort to get closer to her "newfound love." I decided to complete my mission and fast before I ended up road-kill after all. Reaching out, I waited until just the exact moment. I stood on tiptoe and reached as far as I could before snagging the edge of the black material. Closing my eyes, I pushed the money downward, yanking my hand back in record time.
    I was quick. He was quicker.
    His hand grabbed my wrist, holding it in place. Soft, warm skin rubbed against my slack fingers. Glancing up, I found a taunting grin on his face, full of wickedness and pride at his challenge win. I tugged, but he didn't release my wrist. Instead, he thrust a couple more times.
    "Hey! Get your ass over