12
Spank Bank
D ressed in my favorite jeans and cropped long-sleeve shirt, I wait for Sam to get all her things out of the freshly delivered Baby Bucky Bronco.
Sam is wearing a pair of leather pants with a slit at the ankle, her snakeskin cowboy boots on her feet, and a white tank on her shoulders that rides the line between tank and lingerie. The bottom hem shows off a delightful amount of underboob. She has a zip-up hoodie in one hand as she comes around the side of her Bronco, her favorite suede saddle bag already slung across her shoulders.
Before I can say anything, Sam tosses a pair of leather pants with laces from ankle to hip bone up the leg at me, saying they don't fit her the way she wants.
"Well, that's unfortunate for you," I reply, looking over the pants before I say, "Your tiddies be tiddy-ing, though, so you have that going for you," without missing a beat.
Honestly, sometimes I'm no better than a man with how I ogle my friends.
"Yeah? Is it doing it for you, baby?" Sam strikes a very pin-up-esque pose against her Bronco, and I quickly pull my phone out to snap a picture for her.
"Oh yeah. Respectfully, I'm looking disrespectfully . That's going in the spank bank for later." I quip, winking at my friend as I send her the picture.
While I fold and put my new pants in the passenger seat of the Stingray, I attempt to visualize different outfits to pair them with. Sam probably bought them for me all along, having done it multiple times. I'm not worried about the fit, as Sam has an uncanny eye for purchasing the proper size for others. In unison, Sam and I lock our vehicles, turning to walk into the bar, arms linked at the elbow.
"So I have some… developments to discuss," I comment, waiting for her laser focus to zero in on my soul.
"Do tell," Sam says, arching her eyebrow.
"Well," I clear my throat, anxiety bubbling up, turning my palms clammy as I open the door to Coyote Bills.
Sam strides through into the still brightly lit bar while chuckling to herself.
"Oh, this is going to be good," she comments, spurring me into action.
"On Angels' birthday, um... Saint kind of kissed me while Jay held me still for him, " I blurt, wincing.
"WHAT!" Sam hisses, pulling me to the side of the bar by the jukebox.
"Um, yeah. So we were all drinking, and I made a joke, and then Jay and I were flirting. He kissed me and then basically dared Saint and me to kiss, so we did, and Jay held me still for it, and now Saint has walked in on Jay and me twice and-" I ramble, cutting off abruptly.
"And what?" Sam presses, holding onto my forearm.
" I think I have a crush on him ," I squeak, clapping my hand over my mouth. Sam rears her head back and laughs at me loudly. "Why are you laughing? That's not helpful! " I hiss, smacking her arm.
"First of all, what kind of joke did you make that turns into your boyfriend holding you still for another dude to kiss you?" Sam asks, raising one delicate eyebrow at me.
I gulp. "I didn't finish a slice of pizza; Saint picked it up and ate it. I laughed and said we kissed." Saying it out loud sounds so fucking dumb that I nearly perish on the spot.
Sam levels me with a flat look, eyelids covering half of those striking grey eyes. "And then what happened? Because I don't know what backward place you come from, Artemis, but that is not kissing."
"Don't judge me, okay! I was drunk. Obviously , I had to explain the joke: my mouth touched the pizza, and his mouth touched it, so we kissed. It was just a bad joke, okay!"
She rolls her eyes at me. "And then?" Sam presses.
"And then Jay said he thought I needed a reminder of how kissing worked," I say, rolling my eyes.
Sam snorts, muttering, "I agree."
Instead of replying, I charge on, speaking over Sam's muttered words. "He tilted my head back and kissed me stupid. Then Jay told Saint that he thought I looked like I wanted him to try next."
"Did you?" Sam asks, and I open my mouth to say no , not specifically, but no sound comes out. Sam grins . "You did, didn't you, you little hussy!"
"Maybe?" I squeak, thinking about how Saint's hips had been exposed as he leaned against the bar. How distracted I'd been by him talking to Angel.
"So what are you going to do about it?" Sam asks, crossing her arms over her middle.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… It's not every day that your boyfriend would hold you still for another guy to kiss you. Was it good?" Like a switch was flipped, Sam immediately goes for the dirty details.
"Sam. It was hot. Hotter than the Rocky Mountain guys, and we didn't even fuck ." My last experience with wolves who'd wanted to share had been fun, but even they had nothing on Jay and couldn't hold a candle to Jay and Saint. But it is the reference point for hot Sam was most familiar with when it came to my tangles of the horizontal nature with two partners.
"Hotter than Rocky Mountain, huh? Interesting." Sam says, tilting her head to the side, white blonde hair falling across her shoulders. Her bob has grown a little, and she's wearing it loose with messy waves today.
" What am I going to do?" I whine to my friend as we walk back to the cash registers to clock in and begin our shifts.
Sam shrugs. "Go with the flow? What's the worst that could happen? Jay loves you and clearly doesn't mind you kissing Saint, at least. Tell me if he's hung, though, okay?"
I laugh, tucking my bottle opener in my back pocket. "Why do you care? It's not like you want it."
Sam shrugs again, making me envious of her trust in her tank top's placement. "I'm nosey."
"Theres a tattoo," I offer a crumb of gossip up to my friend.
"A TATTOO?" She screams in a comical half whisper just as Angel walks into the room.
By whatever stroke of luck Sam and I have, there is enough of a lull to eat together tonight. I take my usual order of fries with gravy on the side while she orders the fried tenders with waffles. I don't know how many establishments Cook has had the pleasure of doing what he does best. Still, I'm exceedingly fucking grateful for him. Even if I always order the same, like… four things. I've tried almost all of the specials when he has them, but other than that, I don't stray too far outside my routine. I got the tenders and waffles yesterday on my shift. They were fantastic, but Saint had fed me before letting me leave today, so I'm not specifically hungry.
"So, what do you have going on tonight?" Sam asks me, folding her buttered waffle, tucking a tender inside, and dunking the entire thing in a little pot of spicy maple syrup. She takes a massive bite, chewing with a contented hum.
"Nothing, what's up?" I ask, knowing that whatever the boys had planned for later, if anything, could always wait.
"Want to come over? I know we practically see each other every day, but I want to hang out," Sam asks, taking another large bite.
"Sure. I'll follow you when we clock out. Or if Jay shows up, he can drive my car home tonight."
Sam smiles, and it's soft enough that I know what she wants to talk about. "Yay. I'm excited." She says, and a genuine smile splits her lips this time.
"Me too!" I reply with a light laugh.
As we finish our food, I hear the tell-tale engine rev of a particular motorcycle, drawing my attention. Shortly after, the bike and its owner emerge from the trees, followed by a familiar blue Nissan GTR. My boys have arrived.
"Oh, gawd. I've lost you." Sam grouses, sighing dramatically.
"You have not!" I disagree, even though I had turned to look at the road when I'd first heard Dante's bike.
" Mhm . You're all boy-crazy now. When did that happen?" Sam says with a disgruntled look on her face.
"Can you blame me? LOOK AT THEM!" I shout, flailing my hands toward Jay and Saint, opening the doors of the GTR in sync and straightening their sleeves as they get out.
Sam laughs, really laughs, then. "You know, I think I can appreciate that ." She gestures vaguely in their direction as the boys disappear into the bar's front doors, making me laugh.
My friend keeps teasing me as we re-enter through the back entrance, depositing our dishes in the kitchen and washing our hands before returning to the bar.
It's slapshot hour.
Sam wipes down our little corner, sliding the little slapshot sign to bisect the bar and to indicate a place to form a line.
"So, are Slapshots up for improvisation?" Sam asks with a smirk, leaning a hip against the bar and popping a piece of gum into her mouth.
"Sure. What are you thinking?" I respond, wondering what it is she has in mind.
"What if we toss water on customers and then slap them, and they drink?"
"Oh, that has merit." I agree, turning to holler down the bar at the boss lady. "IVY!"
"YEAH!" She hollers back, fighting to be heard over the music while filling a pitcher with ice.
"PERMISSION TO THROW WATER ON PATRONS IF THEY PAY FOR IT!" I shout back with a grin.
Ivy laughs, throwing her head back with glee. "PERMISSION GRANTED!"
Turning back to Sam, I grin. "Let's fucking go, bitch!"
She laughs, and then we reopen the slapshot booth with a brand new addition.
Tonight, the boys do not join the line, having seen enough patrons go through that they, I think, instinctively know not to let two shifter girls with some... less than great intentions when it comes to slapping another of their species on their dime slap and throw water on them.
I have to begrudgingly admit they have some survival instincts.
However, it does mean that when Dante and Ivy slink off just before closing, I notice it.
Before Jay leaves, I kiss him and give him my keys, telling him I'm going to Sam's for a while after closing.
"I'll run back," I tell him, knowing that no one will do anything to a wolf within the Hollow's confines. And, anyway, the Grimes place isn't too far from the Cabin, and I can always get my clothes from Sam anytime.
"I'll be waiting, Gorgeous," Jay replies, dropping a kiss on my forehead, then my lips, winding his hands around my ribs.