Shit. Shitsthitshit… I just lied to Logan. I have a feeling he didn’t buy my half-assed story. Thank God he wasn’t in his guardian-mode. He would have grilled me until I caved in, and that would have ended badly. It’s one thing to fantasize about him in a compromising situation, but completely another thing to confess those fantasies to him. If they even are fantasies. I’m not really sure about that.
Maybe it really is just the surprise and shock that makes me act like this. I know Logan’s not the saint I sometimes tend to picture him. Maybe I’m really not turned on. Maybe it was just some sort of weird dream. After all, I ate shitload of ice cream. Maybe I’m really in the med lab right now, getting my stomach pumped.
Yeah. And maybe pigs will fly out of my ass. Better just face it. I’m a pervert. A pervert who gets off from blood. Kind of depressing if you think about it. I already have this quirky mutation, which will most likely prevent me from having sex in conventional way. Add this warped desire on top of that. Presto! Instant forever virgin! I mean what kind of a guy would want to get in bed with a girl whom he can’t touch, and who on top of that wants him to spill his guts, quite literally? I’m betting there’s not that many of those around. Might as well move to convent and take on the habit…
But before drastic measures I could indulge to a steaming hot bubble bath one last time. I have a feeling that as a bride of Christ I won’t be allowed to wallow in that kind of sin. Yeah. That will be so good. Hot water, some vanilla-scented gel in it… Nice and relaxing. I’m really getting a headache of the century from all this fussing and iffing.
Except that I’m all out of vanilla. All I have is a bottle of strawberry that Jubes bought me for last Christmas. And there was something seriously wrong with that stuff. In the bottle it looked innocent enough. Bright red, as one would assume something strawberry-scented would be. I guess they botched up that batch in the factory or something, because it colored the bathwater, and my skin dark shade of red. It took a freaking week to wear off.
Maybe I’ll pass that bath for now. Have to figure out something else to take my mind off from last night.
Reading? A good book with a box of chocolates I have stashed just for the situations like this. Small cherry hearts covered with dark chocolate. Cost a small fortune, but they’re well worth the price. Candied cherry floating around in cherry liqueur, cocooned to sugar and chocolate. I shouldn’t even have this stuff. It’s just candy, but I bet Scott would have a fit if he found it from me. Like there was enough booze to get me drunk…
Chocolate? Check. Comfortable position on the bed? Check. Good book? Umm… Check. I guess. I’m not in the mood to go to the library, and all I have is some trashy harlequin that I borrowed from Jubes week ago. Haven’t gotten past first twenty pages yet. Not that I’m a slow reader, but that stuff really isn’t something you read for literary values.
Take the one in my possession for example. It’s about a guy who works as a bodyguard. He’s protecting a woman who writes harlequins. Come on! How lame can you get? Story has maybe some redeeming qualities. Hero is tall, dark and mysterious man with a shady past, and he keeps having nightmares. Of course the heroin must rescue him from the horrors he faces on nightly basis. Shit. I have a gut feeling this isn’t going to work. Fuck it. I’m quite sure there’s no blood filled bathtubs in this one. Might as well keep reading…
This should be hot and steamy. I’m starting to doze off after two pages. When the hero starts quite predictable rant about how he’s not good enough for her I have had enough. I got that speech from Logan right after the Statue. It was quite embarrassing. Jean had gotten in to her head that I had a crush on Logan. Don’t really know what made her think about it. She must be even kinkier than I. For Christ sakes, the man is God knows how old! And my tastes don’t run to grumpy and hairy. Well, at least not under normal circumstances. Even more reasons to get my head checked up. Maybe I have a brain tumor, or something.
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