Candy Boys (Hot Candy 1)

Next time. I’m going back, and I’ll do what Jet said. I’ll win her over.

I grin as I get up and march down the corridor between offices to the printer, to collect my letters. Nia waves at me from the reception desk and adjusts her cleavage. Girl’s got impressive tits, and a pretty face, but I’m not interested. I hope she’ll get the message one day.

Jimmy nods at me, mimics having coffee, and I shrug. He’s nice, but he’s coming on too hard. Wouldn’t be the first time, and Jet always fucking laughs at me when that happens. Well, fuck it. I’m not into guys. Only chicks do it for me.

Speaking of chicks… I may need more books. About cooking, and sports, world history, and just about anything, probably. As long as a certain pigtailed girl with glasses can help me out… I wonder if she plays videogames, if she likes fantasy. Maybe history, too?

I stop so suddenly outside the printer room I almost fall over.

What the fuck? I’ve never given a chick more thought than how to take her clothes off as fast as possible. Do it fast, get off fast, walk out and forget about it. Why am I so curious about her? I’ve only met her once. She wasn’t even dressed in anything sexy.

Her hair was in pigtails, for chrissakes.

I’d tug on them. Lift her short skirt. Spank her ass. Tell Jet to hold her while I go down on her and—

Fucking shitballs. What’s wrong with me these days? Tell Jet to hold her—to be there? This is sick.

It’s got to stop. If I don’t, I may need therapy, or someday Jet will find out about these new twisted fantasies of mine, and he’ll be out the door before you can say banana.

Also, I should stop thinking of bananas. Even if Jet likes them. Because guys shouldn’t like phallic-shaped fruit, okay? Not straight guys, anyway.

And I’m as straight as a one-way road, for all the good it does me. I haven’t been out with a chick since forever. Haven’t had sex since fuck knows when. My dick has probably shriveled and fallen off, and I didn’t even notice.

Checking nobody is looking, I pat my package, reassured to feel my dick is still there. Phew. Maybe it was the stress of finishing college, the small crisis I had, and the new job. Well, it’s time to remedy that. Time to—

Oh shit. Oh SHIT, the manager is staring right at me through the room window, a scowl on his face, and my hand… my hand is still on my crotch.

And I think, goddamn fuck, not again.

Chapter Three

JETHRO

I’m so little I fit inside a cupboard in the kitchen, among the pots and pans. My chin is resting on my drawn-up knees. My vision is restricted to a tiny circle. I press my eye to the hole, shivering. I don’t wanna watch. But I can’t look away as the shouting becomes louder, deafening, as objects crash, and she screams.

She told me to hide when it starts. Told me I’m safe if I’m hidden.

But nothing hidden ever remains so, and nobody is ever gonna stick around and keep you safe. Sooner or later you discover that you only have yourself.

Fuck them.

Fuck everyone.

Fuck this guy with the aviator sunglasses who’s buying a cheap beer for his wife.

Fuck the kid with the Pokemon T-shirt who’s running around waving somebody’s cell phone.

Fuck this concert, and especially fuck the chick who’s trying to shove her tits into my face as I pour her drink.

“So you work at Stanley’s Bar?” she says in a weird nasal-whiny voice, chewing her gum and popping a pink bubble in my direction. Her hair is dyed a washed-out red and is held up in two pigtails.

Vaguely I wonder if this is the girl that Joel met at the bookstore, and if I should start worrying about his taste.

I drop ice into the plastic cup and thrust it in her direction. “I’m here, right?”

“You sure are!” She giggles, and fuck this concert.

Wait, have I said that already?