0-69 in 5 Minutes (7 page)

He did as she asked. Her legs wrapped around
his back. Moans and pants filled his ears. She bucked and met him
thrust for thrust.

Her breasts bounced with each stroke, and he
wanted to touch them. After all, they were his, in a way. He cupped
one and squeezed.

“
Keep your disgusting
hands off my money makers; you’ll ruin them. Now fuck me harder!"
she screamed. "Give it to me."

Nails dug into his flesh as he pushed
deeper, trying to satisfy her hunger. He pounded faster, but
nothing ever seemed to be enough with her. She cried out over and
over as he shot inside her.

Disgusted with himself, he pulled out and
sat on the edge of the bed.

"See, we were made to fuck each other. Even
if I didn’t come." She kissed his neck and walked to the
bathroom.

What had he done? Pure sexual gratification,
that's all. He hadn't even used protection. They'd shared no
passion, no concern for each other, no love. Both selfishly took
what they’d wanted. Problem was, he didn't want that kind of sex
anymore. It didn't even feel good to him. Or to her.

Ashamed, he cleaned up and dressed. Then he
prayed Val would never find out what had just taken place.

* * * *

Bree parked at the end of Val’s street,
waiting for their parents. She wanted one more chance to sway their
thoughts about Sam.

When their Pontiac Grand Am passed, she
pulled out and followed them to Val’s. She drove in behind them,
parked and then gathered the side dishes. With her arms loaded, she
headed straight for her mom.

“
Did you hear what I told
you on the phone? The man’s a cross-dresser. Do you want children
brought up in that environment?”

“
Bree, you of all people
should be open-minded. Now, as long as he still has the parts to
give me a grandson, I don’t care what kind of panties he stuffs
them in.” Her mother shook her head as she walked to the
door.

“
Mother!” She stomped
after her. She wanted to protest further, but her mom had already
rang the door bell.

The woman was heartless. Val could date a
cross-dresser and she didn’t care, but the minute she took a woman
home, she turned her love to Val. Did she really want a grandchild
so bad she didn’t care about her youngest child’s feelings?

Val opened the door. “Come in. Come in.”

“
Where is he? I want to
meet this new man of yours.” Their mother pushed her way in without
as much as a hello.

“
Hello to you too, Mom.”
Val looked after their mom as she wandered through the house. With
a sigh, Val turned back to her and their father. “Hey sis, Daddy.”
She gave him a hug and kissed his cheek.

Val had always been his favorite little
girl. That’s because she was fat and couldn’t get a date. Pathetic.
A teenager staying home on the weekends playing cards with her
father while the pretty girls had dates.

“
So where’s this Sam?” She
wanted to see this man. Maybe he dressed in drag
everyday.

The house reeked of cleaner again, and made
her want to vomit. How could anyone clean so much? Her sister
needed a life, and obviously Sam failed to produce it if she had
enough time to wax the fake fruit.

“
He’s on his way. He’ll be
a little late.” Val took a dish and led everyone to the
kitchen.

“
And what about you? Are
you late?” Their mother stood tapping her foot.

The woman obsessed over grandbabies. Bree
clinched a fist and tightened her lips. For as long as she could
remember, their mother had pressed them to get married and have
children. And as each year passed, she pressed harder. She set them
up on blind dates, hid birth control pills, and bought them
subscriptions to Playgirl. After she’d told her mother she was
bisexual, the woman sent her pamphlets from sperm banks.

Val shook her head. “Daddy, can’t you talk
some sense into her before Sam gets here?”

Their father shrugged his shoulders and
rolled his eyes. “Don’t hold your breath, pumpkin.”

Bree clenched her jaws to keep from saying
something she’d regret later. Why couldn’t things be like they used
to? Back when Val had been the chubby one, and she was the pretty
one. The one who showed promise. The one who got their mother’s
attention, trips to the spa, new clothes and anything that would
increase the odds of her bagging a man.

Just then, the door bell rang.

“
Mother, behave!” Val left
the kitchen to answer the door.

Their mom’s eyes lit up like a child’s on
Christmas morning. Bree gritted her teeth. She wanted to be the one
to put the sparkle in those icy blue eyes. One way or another,
she’d find a way.

* * * *

Noah gave Val a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Do you think we can do this?” he whispered in her ear.

“
We have to,” she
whispered back and took the bottle of wine he handed
her.

“
Pumpkin, where do you
keep the tongs?” a male voice hollered from the other
room.

“
I’ll be right there,
Dad,” she called out to her father. “Sorry. Have a seat while I put
this in the kitchen and help my father. Maybe you can have some
peace and quiet in here. Dinner will be ready soon.” Val left him
standing in the doorway, knots twisting in his stomach.

He closed the door and tried to make himself
comfortable on the couch. An older version of Val walked into the
living room. She was shorter, probably about five-four with short
brown hair, professionally styled. Gold jewelry adorned her neck,
hands, ears and wrist. She wore a pair of tan slacks and a black,
short-sleeved, form fitting belted sweater.

“
So, you’re Sam. I’m
Judith, Val’s mother.”

Judith sat down next to him on the couch
despite the other chairs in the room. He smiled politely, though
every muscle in his body tensed. Could she smell another woman on
him? God he hoped not.

“
That’s me. Sam.” He
cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you, Judith.”

Footsteps sounded in the doorway, and
another woman entered, younger than Val, about the same height but
blonde. Her curves were softer, not as muscular. While she would
have turned his head on any other day, somehow he didn’t think she
was as beautiful as Val. Her eyes didn’t sparkle nor did they
ignite a fire in his loins.

“
And I’m Bree, Val’s
sister.” Bree sat down in a chair across from him. “Tell us Sam,
what do you do?”

A lump formed in Noah’s
throat.
Think.
He
couldn’t remember what Val said his job was, or even if she had
told him. They were doomed before dinner had been
served.

Bree leaned in. Her blouse cut so low he had
to divert his eyes to keep from seeing her boobs.

“
I don’t mean your day
job.” She waved her hand through the air. “I mean your weekend job.
What’s it like to be in front of all those people, watching you?” A
smile lit up her face.

He relaxed and let out a
breath. Now
that
he could talk about. Val must have told them about him drag
racing.

"I never really think about all the people.
I get so caught up in the thrill and the excitement. The smell of
fresh grease and oil. The lights.

People watching me perform and supporting
something I love to do is an added bonus."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Maybe
grease and oil repulsed her. She'd been interested in his hobby
five minutes ago. But she did appear to be a high maintenance
chick.

"So, you perform for the sheer joy?" Her
smile returned and something flashed in her eyes.

Excitement? Intrigue? Or was she flirting
with him? Right in Val's home and in front of their mother. He
swallowed hard and tried not to send out the wrong vibe. "I love to
drag. I do it every chance I get."

He didn't want Judith to think his and Val's
relationship suffered all ready, so he flashed his boy-next-door
smile at her. Mothers loved it, and he hoped to win over her
parents. The stakes had risen in the last few hours and he needed
the money to get Bambi out of trouble. Not to mention, out of his
house.

Judith quirked one eyebrow and sized him up
from head to toe. Her gaze lingered on his crotch.

He squirmed and swallowed hard. Did she
sense another woman on him?

"What about the clothes? Do you go all out?"
Bree asked.

An odd question. Perhaps she thought the
local drag strip was more like NASCAR, but it was just a small time
operation. He did know one guy who wore custom made gear, but he
was the exception. Some guys had t-shirts made for themselves and
their crew, but most wore street clothes. Of course, everyone wore
some form of safety gear: helmet, gloves and what not. "No, I don't
wear anything custom made. I just wear things I would every day.
Nothing flashy. Normal clothes I wear around the house. Comfort is
the key to a good showing as well as the right equipment."

"So just every day things you wear around
the house?" Bree chuckled.

“
Well,” he felt his cheeks
warm, “I do have special underwear made for protection.”

“
Protection or
concealment?”

"Bree! Enough. Leave Sam
alone. He's comfortable with drag and clearly Valerie is too."
Judith turned back to him. "You'll have to excuse her. She's not
comfortable with your...um...hobby." Her voice rose and
emphasized
hobby
.

So, Bree sickened at the dirt and grime; a
high maintenance gal all right. Maybe she'd change her mind if she
came out to the track. "The best way to understand a new thing is
to give it a try. Have an open mind and see for yourself. Why don't
all of you come out and watch sometime?"

Before the women could answer, Val entered
the room.

"I hate to break up this conversation, but
dinner’s ready. Dad's getting everything off the grill as I
speak."

Val wrapped her arms around him as Judith
dragged Bree from the room.

"Things seem to be going well. I'm sorry I
left you with sharks."

She kissed his lips, and his stomach knotted
again, hoping she couldn't smell or taste another woman on him.

"Sam, you get to sit by me," Judith called
to the living room.

A good sign, but he still had to win over
Mr. Jordan. Val took his hand and led him to the dinning room
table.

"Sam, this is my father, Hank. Dad this is
Sam."

"Hello, sir." He shook Hank's hand-a good
firm grip-and Hank nodded.

Her father was a tall man. His short hair
showed gray patches. Wire rimmed glasses framed his eyes, and he
had a friendly smile.

Noah's muscles tensed. He had to pull this
off. Luck had saved him with Bree, but Val could have said anything
over the course of six months. Acting like someone else terrified
him. Yet he had no choice. Bambi couldn't hide forever. The dealers
would find her, and the smacks she'd already taken wouldn't compare
to what they'd do next time.

Clearing his throat, he pulled out a chair
and sat down. Judith began dishing food on his plate. He found that
a bit odd, but went with it.

Val rubbed his leg under the table and
mumbled from the side of her forced smile. "Humor her."

"You have got to try my special pasta
salad."

He turned his head back to Judith, and she
shoved a forkful of pasta in his mouth.

Something tasted funny. Chewy. Slimy. His
tongue began to tingle and swell. With a dry throat he managed to
ask, "What's in the pasta?"

“
Oysters.” Judith smiled
wickedly and wiggled her eyebrows. "It's an
aphrodisiac."

“
Mother!”

Oh no.
His chest tightened and his lungs burned. It was happening
all over.

“
Val, call 911. Then get
my epinephrine out of my jacket pocket and give me a shot.” He
hoped the instructions came out clear before the anaphylactic shock
took over. Panic flowed through him and the room began to
darken.

He grabbed the edge of the
table and stood. As he fought to catch his breath, voices mingled
together and faces blurred. His knees buckled.
Oh God, not again.

Chapter 6

Noah's body slumped over as his eyes closed.
Val scurried to catch him before he fell and split his head open.
He dropped, limp, in her arms and she struggled to hold his
body.

"Bree, call 911. Dad, help
me lay him down. Mom, search his jacket for his kit."
God, help me know what I'm doing!

When they had Noah lying on the floor, she
took the kit from her mom and opened it up. She read the
instructions, ripped open packages, and assembled the syringe.
According to the kit, she could stick the needle through
light-weight clothing. However, she wasn’t sure if denim qualified
as light-weight.

She unzipped his pants and tugged the
waistband down low enough to expose his thigh. His wallet and a
condom fell to the floor.

Her mom knelt down and picked up the packet.
“You’ll never get pregnant using these.”

“
Now is not the time!”
With a shaky hand she stuck him with the needle. At least he
couldn't feel it bite into his flesh. Didn’t some people die from
shellfish allergies?
God, let him be
okay.

Bree rushed back into the dining room. “The
ambulance is on its way."

"Get something to prop up his feet." She
rubbed his leg where the needle had entered, as the instructions
indicated.

"Is he going to be all right?" Her mother
searched for a pulse.