Overcoming Fear (Growing Pains #2)(29)

The woman missed as many people she hit, but she was not deterred. She was on a mission to fire every bun or roll in that bag.

Loving the entertainment, Krista leaned harder on the wall, which was starting to lean back, and watched the show. One bun hit a man in a suit crossing the street. It was a great shot! Well placed. She had an arm on her, Krista would give her that.

The man with the suit stopped, right in the middle of a busy lane, and looked back at his attacker menacingly. He probably had some high-powered job where he gave orders. The last time he was the butt of a joke was probably in high school.

This time, though, as he stared at the transvestite, holding up a lane of traffic with his self-importance, he got a heated stare back. In fact, when she noticed the eyeball attack, the sports-loving gal raised her arm slowly, taking aim.

With the first honk of a held up car, pissed at the professional jackass holding up traffic, the woman let fly another bun. It arched through the air, the aim dead-on, and hit him on the chest, center mast. Then, for good measure, she chucked another bun at the honking car.

The man, realizing that anyone dressed like a disco ball before noon on a Sunday, while throwing bread at people, was probably out of her mind, turned around with a burst of speed, and finished crossing the street in quick strides. Like the coward he was, he was not planning to stay and fight with crazy. Which was wise. You didn’t argue with a crazy person, and you didn’t get into stare-offs with a crazy person. It was the Rule of Thumb in the Mission: you-don’t-mess-with-Crazy! You just don’t. You never know what a crazy person might do. There are no rules on that side of life.

Krista just shook her head and continued on her way. She would hate to live in this part of the city, but visiting was fantastic. Very colorful.

She walked the million blocks to meet Jasmine and Kate, who blessedly had a breakfast burrito for her. She badly needed grease.

She scarfed some of it down in big, hungry bites, and then nearly threw it back up again. The bum was right—food wasn’t going to do. She needed alcohol. Hopefully. Otherwise she was doomed.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jasmine asked in surprise.

Kate just stared. She’d seen Krista like this a few times before, and knew what the origin probably was.

“A bottle of wine wrestled me,” Krista muttered. “It won.

“More than a f**king bottle by the looks of it,” Kate said, grabbing her arm and pulling.

“Yeah. Double team. They cheated.”

Krista was bumped and jostled before she noticed how crowded it was. “Wow. Popular street fair, huh?”

She wasn’t answered. Instead she was posted outside a liquor store for a minute before some wine was thrust into her hand. She immediately retched.

“Get it into you,” Kate commanded. “You’ll feel better when you balance out.”

“I don’t know about that,” Krista replied in agony.

They walked on, Kate and Jasmine leading Krista as if she was on a rope. She had no idea, nor did she care, where they were going. She was worried about the wine. She took a couple sips, retched each time, and looked for a spot next to the curb where she could lay down and die. It turned out Thai food wasn’t a great base for a crap load of wine. Her stomach was revolting.

When the wine started to have an effect, relieving her pain somewhat, she poked her head out of her turtle shell of hangover and looked at the people around her.

Then she stopped dead.

They were not all men. They were not all g*y. They were, however, all ready for some form of BDSM. The man in front of her had leather chaps on. That was it. Just leather chaps. His bare ass was bobbing up and down in front of her, his balls hanging down, free for all the world to see.

On her right was an e-norm-ous penis. That’s all she could see. Her eyes wouldn’t look away to find a face. Or even a stomach. They were glued to a g-i-ant dick.

Kate nudged her, able to skip the track so Krista could wrench her face in the opposite direction, looking for a place to rest her eyes that was nudity-free. There weren’t many. One woman was stuffed into a tight, leather corset. Fat oozed out the bottom while her squishy boobs were oozing out the top. They were overflowing the sides, making the woman’s arms have to shove them forward to have proper movement. It was so gross.

So was the guy standing alone in a corner jerking off. Jerking off! Naked! On-a-city-street!

“What the hell?” Krista asked to no one in particular, feeling like throwing up again.

Kate and Jasmine were both looking at her as if she was in some large scale joke and they were witnessing the punch line.

Obviously, she was the punch line.

“Where have you taken me?” Krista asked, incredulous.

“You have to experience it at least once,” Jasmine said, her smile ear to ear. Kate was beaming.

“You two are some bitches. I don’t want any part of this.”

“Tough,” Kate said, grabbing her arm and pulling.

“Seriously, I wanna go home. This is not my cup of tea. I am too naïve for this.”

“No you aren’t,” Jasmine said, taking a sip of a beer out of a paper bag. Apparently you could be naked, but you couldn’t have exposed alcohol? What sort of messed up was that?

Krista watched a man posing for a picture. The camera wasn’t aimed at his face. It was aimed at his bare cock, and something called a Prince Albert. At least, that’s what he told her when she asked if a bar through the tip of his penis still hurt after the fact. Apparently it did not.