The Randy Romance Novelist(64)
“Don’t burn my skin!” I screeched, feeling the heat of the curling iron close to my scalp.
“Yell at me one more time, go ahead,” Delaney threatened.
I’d been quite jumpy, irritated, irrational, moody, emotional, and a whole plethora of other emotions since I got back from the doctor. I didn’t say a word to anyone; instead, I went straight to the fridge, stuck my head inside, and ate leftover pizza straight off the plate, like a pig at its trough, not even bothering to use my hands.
The cold felt good on my heated body, and the pizza delighted my gullet as I practically swallowed it whole. I’d just finished gobbling down the crust when Delaney showed up at the apartment, armed with a militia of beauty products and styling devices that looked like they belonged in an electric dildo chamber of tortures.
I didn’t want to tell anyone about the pregnancy just yet, because honestly, I was still in denial, even though it all made sense.
Who missed their period and didn’t realize it? I was THAT girl. If I thought about it, I guess at the time I was just happy that I didn’t get a visit from Campbell’s Tomato Soup, so I could continue to have sex.
Ugh, randy much?
“You need to settle down; you’ve been sweating this entire time. Your makeup is going to melt off.”
I aired out my shirt by fanning it away from my body. “It’s hot in here.”
“It’s a normal temperature; you’re just being a complete freak. Now settle down and look in my purse; there’s something special in there for you. You want to get sexed up; well, I’ve got just the trick that will have Henry panting for your attention.”
There was a questioning raise to my eyebrow before I grabbed her purse and pulled out a small bag.
“Look inside.” She nodded at the present.
I set her purse down and then peeked into the bag. At the bottom were two gold colored marble looking objects connected by a string. “What are these?” I asked, pulling them out and holding them up.
“Those are what are going to separate you from everyone else at the party tonight.”
“Is it a necklace?” I held the balls up to my collarbone and observed them in the mirror, while Delaney continued to curl my hair. “I don’t normally wear chunky jewelry, but I could possibly make these work.”
“It’s not a necklace, Rosie,” Delaney corrected me, exasperation heavy in her voice. “Those are Ben Wa balls.”
“What are Ben—” I paused as the name sunk in. “The vagina marbles from Fifty Shades of Grey?”
Delaney proudly smiled. “The very same.”
“Are you insane? I’m not going to use these. How would these even relate to being sexy?”
Delaney released my hair from the curling iron and let it fall over my shoulder. “Of course you’re going to use them. They will be perfect. When you get to the party, slip into the bathroom quickly, insert them up there, and then walk out to Henry with a mischievous smile on your face. He will ask you what’s going on, and very gently, you will press your hand against his chest and lean toward his ear where you will whisper that you’re clenching onto those balls, pretending they are his penis. He will go wild.”
I give her a wincing look. “Sounds like a really bad idea.”
“Believe me, I did it with Derk, and we had the wildest sex ever that night.”
“Ew!” I screeched and tossed the balls to the side. “Were those in your vagina?”
Delaney rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Vagina wands, balls, lubes and nets should never be shared. One lady’s vagina juice is another man’s sex cream.”
“What?” I nearly puked. “That makes no sense whatsoever, and is so incredibly crude that if you put that in a book people would immediately bring your rating down from a five to a four star.”
“Well then I suggest you keep clear of quoting me in your book.” She twisted another section of hair into the curling iron and continued. “How’s that going, by the way? The book.”
“I finished it and it’s with an editor,” I answered sheepishly.
“What?!” Delaney screeched, almost ripping my hair out of my scalp. “Your book is being edited right now? What happened to letting me read it? Did Wolf Fleece Wendy read the whole thing?”
“She did.”
“And . . .” Delaney motioned for me to continue.
“She loved it. She actually said some really sweet things and warned me that since it was comedy, not everyone would get it, which was okay. She said as long as I made some people laugh, that was all that mattered.”
“Not everyone is going to like your book, and that’s all right,” Delaney encouraged. “Look at a popular book like Fifty Shades of Grey. It opened up the publishing market for authors like you to write what you want and express your thoughts and feelings through creative imagination. Those books made such an impact on our generation and encouraged people like me, who never read, to pick up a book and read a little smut-mance. Despite her popularity, there are people out there who absolutely despise her stories; there will always be someone who doesn’t agree with what you write. Too bad for those naysayers; E.L. James is dancing her way to the bank . . . she deserves that little shimmy.”
“I guess you’re right.”