Tuesday, September 4, 2012

A Ilha do Amor Teaser

“Okay, what were these triggers?” Alice asked, leaning forward. “Inclinations that indicated that your douche of an ex was gay?”

“First off, he’s prettier than me,” I chuckled.

“Bella, you’re gorgeous,” Alice said, quirking a brow.

“I’d show you a picture of Tyler, but I shattered my phone when I got the text from him, breaking up with me,” I chuckled. “Seriously, though. That man had more beauty products than me. Hair gel, moisturizers, bronzer, guyliner…he had a weekly appointment to get a manicure and a pedicure. He also got his brows waxed. Even I don’t do that! That’s why God invented tweezers.”

“What does Tyler do? His job?”

“He’s a sports reporter for the Seattle Times. I’m a gossip/entertainment reporter for the same paper,” I answered.

“OH GOODNESS! Any new news about that one couple from the vampire movies? You know the girl who cheated on the fuckhot guy with some pervy older dude?” Alice giggled.

“Focus, Alice. I’ll give you the deets on that later. We’ve got an eleven and half hour flight to talk,” I snorted.

“Okay, fine. Back to your confused man,” Alice said, her face cracking into a crooked grin. “More triggers of his gayness. The first one is that he could open up his own cosmetic store.”

“Right. The second indication that he preferred the company of the male persuasion was his PDA. Or lack thereof.”

“Please tell me you’re not a virgin,” Alice guffawed.

“I’m not a virgin but I haven’t had sex with Tyler,” I frowned. “He wanted to ‘wait’ until marriage. The extent of our physical relationship has been a lot of cuddling, hugging, chaste kissing and a hell of a lot of blow jobs.”

“Did he ever return the favor?” Alice whispered, her green eyes wide with shock.

“Not really. He tried to finger me once but said that he had a hang nail. Bullshit. He just didn’t want to touch my pussy,” I grumbled. “There, I do wax.”

“How did you survive? I would die if I didn’t have regular orgasms,” Alice breathed.

“I’ve gone through six vibrators in the four years we’d been together,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “I’ve got two packed in my bag that’s heading to Rio.”

“Fuck me,” Alice sighed. “Six? Damn.”

“Yep,” I said as I downed the rest of my margarita. “My cooter is not feeling the love. My maid of honor said that I need to get me some Latin lovin’ down in Rio with some Brazilian native.”

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