Page 62 of Misadventures of a Biker

I scowled. “Say what you were going to say.”

Seeming reluctant to continue, she turned away. “Just go with what I gave you.”

“Bullshit,” I spat. “Tell me what you were going to say.”

“Fine.” She faced me and let out a sigh. “At that instant our vaginal walls tighten up, just before an orgasm, we love having a finger poked up our butt.”

“No shit?”

“I’m dead serious. It’s a well-guarded secret. Make sure your nails are trimmed. And be sure to lick it first if there’s no lube available. But do it in secrecy. Don’t advertise that you’re doing it. It’s the surprise that excites us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I extended my hand and clenched my fist. “Appreciate it.”

“No problem, bro.” She pounded her fist against mine. “Just keep it a secret.”

I pinched my fingers together and zipped my lips closed.

She turned toward her office. “Have fun this weekend.”

“What’s going on this weekend?”

She disappeared into the office’s abyss, leaving me to wonder what Teddi’s plans were for the weekend.

Some secrets, I guessed, were meant to be kept.

Chapter Twenty

Teddi

Devin took a sip of his wine and set the glass aside. He reached for his fork. “This is crazy.”

The only thing that was crazy was that he was eating dinner without his shirt. It was hard for me to stay focused on my meal, and I feared that I might be caught inadvertently drooling.

“What’s crazy?” I asked, assuming he wasn’t talking about his bare torso.

“This lasagna,” he replied. “It’s better than what Herb and I ate that night we met Vinnie at that fancy Italian joint.”

I shifted my eyes from my food to him. “You like it?”

“It’s awesome,” he said. “The salad, too. The dressing is fantastic.”

The muscles in his chest swelled with each breath he took, and he took them often. I felt like I did in ninth grade when Karen Valentine and I peered through the crack in the wall and into the boys’ locker room. I wanted to stare but felt guilty for doing so.

I shifted my attention to my plate. “It’s just oil and vinegar.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s fucking tasty.”

Despite my intentions to stay focused on the meal, I glanced in his direction. He raised a forkful of lasagna to his mouth. Whether intentional or not, his pectoral muscle flexed. Then it flexed again.

I nearly wet myself.

“Thank you,” I murmured, looking away. “I appreciate it.”

“So, what movie are we going to see?”

“Ford versus Ferrari,” I replied. “There’s not a good rom-com playing, so I thought we’d do a guy show.” I made the mistake of looking up. “They say it’s really good.”

“Sounds good to me.” He nodded toward the island. “Can I have some more before we go?”