#TripleX Read Online Free PDF Page B

thought he was hot,” she argued.
    “I do think he’s hot. What’s the big deal? I’ve always been into bald guys.”
    “Bull crap,” she countered, “nobody is into bald guys. People only say they’re attracted to bald guys when the guy they’re into just so happens to be bald. Just like when a girl says that size doesn’t matter. We all know that it does—it so does. When a girl says that, we all know she’s screwing a shrinky-dink.”
    “It’s not like that with Pete. I’ve told you before. It’s completely platonic,” I stated, turning the meat over in the microwave. “We are just friends… and he’s really helpful. My last book wouldn’t have been so great if he hadn’t fixed that last sex scene.”
    “That last sex scene is what makes me think he’s into you and waaaayyy too kinked out… nobody does crap with a whisk and hot peppers like that,” she shrieked.
    “Wrong! Since that book released, nine people have told me they tried it… and liked it,” I said, laughing.
    “He wants you. Has he ever hit on you—tried to kiss you—anything like that?” Christine pried, accusingly.
    “Never. Not once,” I answered, emphatically.
    “Touched you? Anything?”
    Silence.
    Silence.
    Silence.
    “Well…”
    “Well what?” Christine screamed into the phone.
    Sighing, I decided to tell her something I hadn’t voiced to anyone ever. “Pete… well he… ummm…”
    “Damn it Angelisa, tell me! What does Pete do?”
    “He thinks better if… if… he’s rubbing and massaging my feet,” I admitted, cringing at the confession and absurdity of it all.
    “Are you fricking kidding me? This guy rubs your bare feet and talks to you about kinky, erotic sex scenes, and you think that’s platonic and that he’s not into you? How damn naïve are you?”
    “I’m not naïve,” I explained. “It’s like when I think and write better while I’m chomping on M&Ms. My feet are his M&Ms.”
    “Oh my God, you are the dumbest person on the planet. Let me ask you this… does Matt know about your platonic plotting sessions with Pete McFeet?”
    “No!”
    “Does he know that you go down to his house every day?” Christine asked.
    “I mean, he knows we’re friends,” I side-stepped the question.
    “That’s not what I asked. If it’s so platonic, then why don’t you tell Matt about it,” she questioned rationally.
     
     
    “That’s a very good question Ms. Stone. If you were hiding something from your husband, then you had to know that it was wrong. There was some part of you that knew you shouldn’t be sneaking around with your neighbor,” the judge states, interrupting my story.
    “Oh, you don’t even know the half of it, Your Honor. Just wait until she gets to what happened with Pete McFeet. Just wait. Classic,” Christine giggles.
    “Ms. Stone, I hope for your sake that your husband is now aware of your friendship with your gentleman friend,” the judge eyes me sternly.
    “Yes Ma’am,” I admit, dropping my eyes and giggling.
    “Is there something I’m missing, ladies?” she asks.
    “So much. We’re just getting started,” Christine explains.
    The judge calls the bailiff into her chambers, scribbles something on her notepad, hands it to him, and says, “Continue Ms. Stone.”
     
     
    Anyway, Christine admonished me for a good fifteen minutes about lecherous tendencies, while I argued that mine and Pete’s friendship was purely innocent and centered around business only. After agreeing to disagree, we dropped the subject.
    “So, your text said that you had some news for me,” Christine said.
    “I do. I think you’re right. I’m going to go to Vegas this summer with you. It’s time I start remembering who I really am,” I explained. “And I think that starts with a road trip with my favorite erotic author.”

 
     
    Twitter: Have officially reached the WTF am I going to do phase of this #VegasRoadTrip #TripleX #SendAlcohol #AndCupcakes
     
     
    Taking a deep