Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“I’m still not sure what the consequences will be for him at the club, but there will have to be some. He claimed he was acting for us, on my behalf, but he most definitely was not, and I can’t have the other guys thinking anything about what he did is acceptable. But I think you’re right. He needs a life lesson about women.”
An evil idea is taking shape in my mind. I do everything for the club, basically live, breathe, and bankroll it because I believe in what we do and the positive impact we’re trying to have. But what if we could do more?
“I don’t know what’s on your mind, but I’m not fucking him and leaving him swinging-dick-naked in the campus quad, and for plausible deniability’s sake, I’m also not going to ditch his dead body at a pig farm for destruction of evidence.” She takes both options off the table with equal casualness that sets me back.
“What? You’re not fucking him. Ever.” I dig a fingertip into the tabletop as if I have any say-so in what she does or doesn’t do. But the very idea of Samantha with someone else, anyone else, makes me jealous as hell. Something I have no right to be, but I’m honest enough with myself to admit the feeling is there, and strong. “Why would you think I’d want that?”
She grins and notes, “Not too worried about the pig farm, though?” When I don’t smile back, too stuck on fucking her over the table in some caveman attempt to claim her, she laughs lightly. “Calm down, Chance. You had this diabolical look on your face, and Jaxx and I already came up with fifty different ways to fuck this guy over if we could find out who he was. And now I know.”
“Anthony Cordram.” I give her his name without hesitation, confident that he deserves any punishment she decides to mete out. “But I have an idea for your consideration.”
“I’m listening.” She takes another bite of cinnamon roll but does seem open to hearing my idea.
Of course, she’s probably hoping it’ll involve stringing Anthony up by his dick to a flagpole, but I’m hoping she’ll think this is better. At least in the long run.
“Come to the club and do a class for the members. We already talk about dating, relationships, sex, and all that, but it’s me and Evan giving our perspective of what’s right, successful, and best. It’s a male lens, no matter what we say. But what if it was from you? You’re brilliant, can hold your own against any pushback, have a psychology background, and specialize in improved sex lives. You’re perfect! Like a paid guest speaker for our own TED talk. What do you think?”
Her brows have been scrunching down little by little while I made my proposal, but I really hope she’ll do this. I think it’d be perfect.
“And Anthony and his crew?” she asks.
“Your star students because fuck knows, they need it. They’ll sit there, listen, and learn or they can get the hell out of the club. We need people open to growing and doing better. If they refuse, I’m not investing more of my time in them,” I say dismissively.
We’ve never kicked anyone out of the club before, but if I have to do it for Samantha, I will. In a heartbeat.
“Let me think about it,” she answers, and I can see her mind already whirling with ideas, doubts, excitement, and nerves.
I hope she agrees to do this. For the guys. Though having her around definitely benefits me too.
“So, wrapping things up today, yes, you need to wrap it every time. You are equally responsible for birth control with your partner, and if you don’t want to be a baby daddy, it’s on you to prevent that from happening. If you don’t do your due diligence or statistics don’t work in your favor . . . ahem, cough, cough—I’m talking to you, two-percenters—then you own the consequences as well. Choose wisely—your partner, your contraceptive, and your child if the situation arises.” Evan pauses, letting that sink in, and then finishes, “I’m Evan White—”
“And I’m Chance Harrington,” I pick up, “saying thank you for joining us for another episode of Two Men And A Mic.”
The outro music plays, and Evan taps his keyboard, closing the feed. “And we’re . . . out,” he says, sitting back in his chair. “I’ll run the feed through the optimizer to level out the sound feed, and it’ll be up by midnight.”
“Cool.”
Evan looks over, curious. “You good? You’ve been weird tonight. Not down, just . . . your energy was off. Did the check-in with Sex Toy Barbie not go well?”
“I’ve been wondering . . . hypothetically,” I reply, knowing I’m bullshitting my friend. “How would you feel about bringing a woman in to talk with the guys about some of their issues? To offer a different point of view and give insight on things we can’t.”