Page 13 of Georgie (Sons of Hell MC #10)

Josie

Standing in the ballroom of the ski lodge, I felt like a disco ball about to explode.

LeeAnn, bless her cotton socks, was droning on about floral arrangements while my nether regions were staging a full-blown rave. My va-jay-jay, it seemed, had developed a mind of its own and was determined to host a solo performance, complete with a throbbing soundtrack only I could hear.

The damn thing wouldn’t stop vibrating.

It was a personal, internal earthquake, and I was pretty sure if I orgasmed again, I’d become the first person to spontaneously create an indoor Slip N’ Slide.

My attempts at silencing the rogue vibrator were as successful as a snowball fight in July.

Sitting? Buzzing. Standing? Buzzing. Legs apart, legs together— you get the picture .

I even tried ignoring it, adopting a Zen-like calm that would have impressed a Tibetan monk, but that little buzz bomb just wouldn’t be quiet.

“Wanna explain what that was back in your office?” Bailey smirked, sliding up beside me like a mischievous pixie. “Because, doll, you’re sweating through your Manolo Blahniks. Looks like you wrestled a greased badger.”

Through gritted teeth, I whispered, “He... he stuck a vibrator up my hoohaa.”

Bailey’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. Did you say he...?”

Another tremor hit.

Another wave of pleasure threatened to send me into orbit.

I grabbed Bailey’s hand, squeezing hard as the delightful agony washed over me.

“He stuck a remote-controlled vibrator up my hoohaa,” I repeated, slightly louder this time, once the delightful agony subsided. “He’s punishing me for sneaking out this morning.”

Bailey’s jaw dropped. Then she burst into laughter. “Oh, honey, that’s a new one. But we’ve got to do something about this before you flood the place.”

I nodded, desperately hoping the wedding coordinator hadn’t noticed the telltale damp patch spreading across my designer shoes.

This wasn’t exactly the ‘I do’ moment I’d envisioned.

“We need to turn it off,” I suggested, my voice still a little shaky from the recent seismic activity.

Bailey raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “And how the hell do you suggest we do that? Remote-control vibrators aren’t exactly equipped with an off switch you can reach from the inside, are they?”

I shook my head, my face flaming.

“Okay, then we’ll have to get creative.”

“Where the hell are you two going?” Laurel asked, strolling over like she owned the place.

“Gotta remove a vibrator before Josie appears on Pornhub,” Bailey deadpanned.

Laurel stared at us blankly, mouth slightly agape.

“Just follow us,” Bailey said, her smile wicked.

The vibrator buzzed again, a low thrumming reminder of my predicament.

“Shit,” Bailey muttered. “We gotta move fast.”

Tears pricked my eyes.

This wasn’t just embarrassing; it was utterly ridiculous.

“It’s happening again!”

Bailey’s expression turned thoughtful. “Come on, girl. I know just the place. Follow me.”

She led me through a side door and down a dimly lit hallway, away from the glittering ballroom and towards what I hoped was salvation. The buzzing was relentless, a constant, irritating pulse.

We entered a small storage room, crammed with dusty boxes and the faint scent of mothballs and forgotten dreams. The buzzing was getting stronger.

“Now, let’s get this thing out of you,” Bailey said, her voice serious but with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

I stood there, feeling utterly ridiculous and slightly vulnerable.

“How?” I squeaked, my voice barely a whisper as I watched Bailey consider my little indiscreet problem. Her brow furrowed in concentration.

“We need to get it out, so”—she gestured towards my legs—“spread ‘em.”

“Excuse me?!” I gasped, clamping my legs together tighter than a nun at Sunday mass.

This wasn’t how I envisioned my first foray into girl-on-girl action! This was beyond anything I’d ever imagined. A remote-controlled vibrator was one thing, but the sheer absurdity of it all was enough to send me over the edge!

“I said spread ‘em,” Bailey firmly instructed, with a determination that rivaled a Mongolian Horde. She had to be joking. There was no way I was going to let her go swimming in my hoohaa!

Laurel’s eyes widened further, if that were possible, and she glanced down at my nether regions, as if expecting to see some mechanical contraption protruding from my dress. “Oh my God!”

The buzzing had reached a fever pitch, and I was convinced the entire ski lodge could hear the relentless thrumming.

Bailey snapped into action. “Right, Josie, up on that table, now!” She pointed to a rickety old table.

A layer of dust and forgotten memories covered the surface.

I scrambled up onto the table, my heart pounding and my face flaming. This was beyond mortifying, but the buzzing had to stop. Bailey stood between my legs and didn’t wait to ask before she yanked down my soaked panties. Her eyes fixed on the source of my torment. “Okay, I think I can reach it.”

“You are not sticking your hand up my vagina!”

Bailey huffed. “What’s a little finger play between friends?”

Bailey’s bold suggestion hung in the air, and for a moment, no one spoke.

I felt my cheeks burning, and I knew my face was the color of a stop sign. The buzzing vibrator seemed to sense my embarrassment and kicked into overdrive, sending shock waves of pleasure through my body.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Bailey exclaimed, rolling up her sleeves. “I delivered a baby. This can’t be that much different.” She shot me a reassuring smile, but I wasn’t convinced.

This was a million miles from delivering a baby.

This was my most intimate area being exposed in a storage room, with a vibrator still buzzing away.

Laurel, to her credit, snapped out of her stupor and took charge.

“Okay, we need to work together on this. Bails, you get ready to... erm... fish it out. Josie, you need to take some deep breaths and try to relax. We’ll get through this, and it’ll be a hilarious story to tell at the next girls’ night. ”

Leaving the storage room, I felt a mix of relief and the kind of embarrassment that could curdle milk.

The buzzing had thankfully ceased thanks to the hammer Bailey used, but the mental image of myself, a human Slip ‘N Slide in a sea of forgotten party favors, was permanently etched into the memory banks.

“We will never speak of this. Agreed?” I said, hoping to magically erase the past five minutes from existence.

Bailey, bless her mischievous soul, just grinned. “Speak for yourself, bitch. I was merely offering sisterly assistance. Besides,” she added with a wink, “that shit was epic!”

I groaned. She was right, of course. This was going to be the family legend, the one recounted at every holiday gathering, my personal Mount Rushmore of mortification.

But as I navigated the throng of ballroom revelers, something shifted.

These women—these giggling, conspiracy-spinning, slightly unhinged women—weren’t just friends.

They were my tribe. My partners in crime.

My support system for life’s ridiculously awkward moments.

And that, I realized, was far more valuable than any shred of dignity.

“Josie!” a voice boomed.

“And there he is.” Laurel snickered, elbowing Bailey.

“Mr. Vibrator himself,” Bailey hissed dramatically. “Say the word, Josie, and I will unleash the hounds of Hades upon him. Literally. I know a guy.”

I narrowed my eyes at George, the unfortunate owner of the rogue vibrating device. “No. This one’s mine.”

I marched over to him, snatched his hand, and pressed the offending little silver bullet into his palm. “Here. You can have your little... friend... back.”

George’s eyes widened. “Oh shit! I forgot to turn it off!”

He actually forgot.

“You sure did, bucko,” I said haughtily, spinning on my heel and abandoning him to his fate. I needed a shower, a hazmat suit, and possibly a new... everything.

“Wait, Josie, I—” he began, but I cut him off.

“Save it,” I said, not wanting to hear his pathetic excuses. The damage was done. The buzzing incident was already legendary. My friends would be re-enacting it with spoons by midnight. Time to reclaim my dignity, one triple-strength martini at a time.

Heading for the elevator, I willed the doors open with the force of a thousand suns. I needed a moment of solitude. A moment to decompress. A moment of silent prayer for my poor, overstimulated nether regions.

She would never be the same.

Never.

The elevator doors hissed shut, sealing me in with my own chaotic thoughts. Relief washed over me, potent as a shot of tequila. The buzzing was over. But the embarrassment? That was a stubborn little weed, refusing to be uprooted.

Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes, picturing Bailey already crafting a graphic PowerPoint presentation of my shame for the next girls’ night.

Just then, the elevator jerked to a halt, and the doors opened as an unexpected voice shattered my fragile tranquility.

“Hey, babe.” A familiar face appeared in front of me.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered, my hopes of fleeting solitude dashed as I glared at Freddie.