Slick as Ides (45 page)

Someone in the crowd shouts, “Why won’t she sell it?”

“Because some assholes in this world like to take her inventions and turn them into something negative. They’d turn this into a weapon, but it’s not meant that way,” I explain.

“What does it do?” the same voice calls out.

I wave him down and shush the crowd that’s all riled up now. “Calm down, I’m getting there. First, I want to share with you how her fascinating mind works.” I lick my lips and step closer to the edge of the stage, peering out across the crowd, looking for my dad. He’s not at the back anymore, but when I look for Libby, I choke on my breath. He’s sitting right next to her, and he’s damn near floating off his seat as he beams at me.

“You see,” I continue, standing straighter, chest puffed out, “she’s not perfect.”

“What?” someone blurts.

The crowd laughs.

“Let me rephrase that—she has quirks and imperfections like we all do, but she’s perfect for me. I’ve known her for many years. She started out as my best friend, quickly turned into my love interest and then I was fixated on finding her, because I lost her. But she couldn’t hide her brilliance from me. She invents things to make her life more bearable since she has some phobias that try to slow her down, but they never stop her. I noticed her inventions over the years and knew it had to be this wonderful girl I’d met in high school.” I pause and drop my head.

Someone in the audience makes a snide comment. I ignore it.

“The truth is, she’ll always be better than me, and better than most of you. There’s no competition.” I raise my head and speak with a firm voice. “I’ll never be as slick as Ides, but that’s okay. I don’t have to be. I just have to love her and everything she creates.” I hold the stick up. “This toy here she made for herself is so cutting edge, my balls wanna make love to it. Hell, I’d sleep with this damn thing if she’d let me.” They all crack up. “No joke. It’s sick how cool this thing is.”

I explain in nauseating detail over the next few minutes about all of the incredible features of this ingenious device.

Someone groans, “Sell it to us, Ides!”

“Hey, now. C’mon. Not everything’s for sale, especially not her integrity.” She wanders out on the stage toward me and stops at my right. I drop to my left knee, dig into my other pocket and say so loud everyone can here without the aid of a mic, “Ides, will you do this pathetic ass a favor—he has a problem. He loves you desperately. Will you marry me right now in front of all these people?” I pull out of my pocket the wedding band for her, and she smiles real big.

She swipes a tear away and says, “Yes,” as clear as I’ve ever heard.

I stand up, motion for my guest to join us on stage, since he was waiting in the wings on the other side.

He steps out, I put the ring back in my pocket and we sign the marriage license real quick. In front of all these people, a James Dean look-alike proceeds to marry us.

She grins, and I about come in my pants like I did as a punk-ass kid in a closet so many years ago with her, because I’m so fucking excited, I can’t stand it.

People snap pictures as the quick, impromptu ceremony progresses.

We both say the lines we’re fed, and I finally put the wedding ring on her finger. I kiss her when it’s over, pick her up and twirl her around.

When I’m done, she turns a slight shade of green. “Oh God!”

“You okay?” I whisper.

“You may not be as slick as I am, but you’re very potent.” She turns us away from the crowd and mouths, “I’m pregnant.” She motions toward her belly.

I pick her up, kiss her, and as the crowd erupts in cheers, I take her backstage without even telling them I’m done and thanking them for being our wedding guests.

“Are you sure?” I caress her belly.

She pulls her own stick out of her pocket. “Uh, the pee stick says so.” She hands it to me and blurts, “I sanitized the outside of it, so it’s safe. I wanted to surprise you after I was done presenting today, but it seems like you surprised me first.” She beams at me, her eyes welling up. “I love you!”

I laugh so hard my gut shakes.

“Fuck, and I thought my wedding gift when we got home was going to blow you away. This is way fucking better!”

“What is it?” Her face lights up.

“A golden lion tamarin monkey.”

Holy shit, she grips me hard by the back of the neck and kisses me roughly. When she lets go she bares her teeth at me. “No monkeys. A kid is enough. Get rid of it.”

“Only if you jack me off right here, right now.”

She cups my cock, yanks at the base, then says, “Didn’t you hear, bitch? This is my world. I’m the one that gets off here, not you.”

And then she casually walks away, holding the slimboy in her hand, taunting me with it like the proverbial carrot.

Woman has moves, and fuck, I’m aching bad for her—as usual.

“You’re slick, bitch, I’ll give you that.”

She flips me off and keeps walking. Is she searching for her new father-in-law out in the audience? God, I hope so.

Her head cranes over her shoulder before she exits the door to go back out into the conference hall. “Slicker than you, Vapor, but not by much. I won’t tell them how you choose to use my slimboy. I don’t think they’d like to know you’ve turned it into my favorite vibrator.”

She blows me a kiss, and I chase after her, fighting to get my toy back. And my balls.

Fuck, I may never reattach them, not with someone as slick as her always manhandling them, and I’m not really sure if I want them back now that I’ve gotten inside her skin and created our own little baby Vapor. That was the slickest trick of all—earning her trust and becoming a family . . .

And I don’t regret one minute of it. Never will.

More Works from this Author

*
Slick as Ides
continues on Valentine’s Day, 2014 with the sequel,
Catching Vapor.
Check out the author’s blog for upcoming news and teasers*

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Author Bio:

Chanse Lowell grew up in the desert southwest and still lives there with her husband, children, and pet cactus. She’s addicted to three things—reading erotica, writing erotica and sandwiches with a side of erotica to aid with digestion. She grew up watching programs with science fiction and historical fiction themes, and is determined she can combine her three favorite genres, creating a new breed of novel with scifi, historical and smut sandwiched in the middle.

The last thing she ever thought she’d do was pursue her dream to be a writer since her family tends to keep her busy. When she was introduced to fan fiction, she realized she wanted to see more science fiction and historical fiction to fill in the gap with lots of naughtiness thrown in, of course. Her true passion is creating her own worlds from scratch, letting her imagination go and take her to another place.

Having recently entered the BDSM lifestyle and discovering she’s a submissive herself has opened her eyes to how few stories there are exploring the softer side of the lifestyle. She enjoys chatting online with others with similar kinky interests and has advisers in the lifestyle that help make sure her stories remain true and don’t veer off into outer space. Although aliens probably enjoy kink, too, since they like to dress in rubber fetish-wear while traveling. At least that’s her argument for why her new genre she’s created is valid.

Contact her at:

Website:
http://chanselowell.blogspot.com/

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/#!/chanse.lowell.1

Facebook author page:
https://www.facebook.com/ChanseLowellWrites

Twitter:
https://twitter.com/ChanseLowell

Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/ChanseLowell