THE KISS

I fight with everything I have, letting out a scream of frustration and despair that all my stellar escape efforts are going to waste. I lash out and kick at him, but it’s futile. Mike handles me easily. He hauls me up, throwing me over his shoulder like a nasty old bag of potatoes. I’m so stunned at being turned upside down that it takes me a good long moment to reorient myself and get the blood flowing properly to come up with Plan B.

Although by now, I might be on Plan X. It turns out I couldn’t wash myself down the bathtub drain when I was having a bath like I wished I could. Sewer escapes are much, much harder than anyone gives them credit for.

Suddenly, against my will, my eyes fly open, and I stop thrashing. Hello, Mike tight ass. What? No, stop looking at his ass. But it’s a perfect angle. No, it doesn’t matter. Stop. Right. Now. It’s a good thing I don’t listen to the good voice in my head and go instead with the devil’s whispers. I reach down—no, not to touch the world’s mos