F cking ancounters, p.1
F*CKING AWKWARD HOLIDAYS: 25 Short Stories of Awkward Holiday Encounters, page 1
F*CKING AWKWARD HOLIDAYS
25 Short Stories of Awkward Holiday Encounters
Taryn Plendl
A.D. Justice
Ahren Sanders
Amanda Maxlyn
Brooke Page
Carey Heywood
Christine Manzari
Christine Zolendz
Dina Littner
Eliana S. Peters
Gina Sheldon
HJ Bellus
Kennedy Ryan
Laura Ward
Leigh Carman
Lex Martin
Lindsey Iler
Liv Morris
L.L. Collins
M. Mabie
Magan Vernon
Meghan Quinn
Mel Ballew
Stacy Kestwick
Trudy Stiles
Contents
Foreword
1. 69 and James Bond-A Very Happy New Year
2. Rebound Revenge for Christmas
3. Ambushes, Champagne, & a Fantasy Suite… What could possibly go wrong?
4. Meet the Parents
5. Porta-John’s and Fireworks
6. Trick My Treat
7. Hooked For The Holidays
8. Nope, Not Awkward at All
9. The Miracle of Lights
10. Turkey Twerking~A Shaw Creek Seduction Short Story
11. Under the Mistletoe~A Rub Down Series Short Story
12. Blow Me
13. Scabby Nipples
14. Happy Awkward Turkey Day and an Asshole Dog
15. Sex on the Beach
16. The Perfect Stocking Stuffer
17. Not So Secret Santa
18. An Oral Exam
19. All I Want for Christmas Is An ORGASM
20. Thanksgiving with the Mayor
21. Part Of Me - A Friendship, Texas (Awkward) short
22. Gesundheit
23. Shattered with Shame on Samhain
24. Unwrapped
25. Garrett Who?
Copyright © 2016
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Foreword
Dear Peasants wonderful readers:
* * *
This is Fat Ralph, ruler of stupid awesome human, Tara Sivec. She told me I was asked to write a foreword to a book. You people know I’m a dog, right? I don’t have thumbs. This horrible perfect human of mine will be transcribing everything I want to say to you cretins fabulous people. First of all, I hate love the holidays with a fiery burning passion. Would you like to know why? Because my pathetic lovely humans think it’s hilarious to dress me up like a douchebag handsome man for everything from Canada’s Boxing Day (the inventor of tiny boxing gloves for dog paws is a dick darling person) to Easter (I will shit on your lawn give you a hug if you put bunny ears on me again). Regardless, a bunch of insane nice authors got together to bring you this book of nonsense amazingly funny stories all about the holidays. I’ve been told the sales from this book will all be going to charity. I suggested the charity of my stomach. What’s a dog gotta do to get a few bones thrown his way? Instead, these idiots perfect humans went with something called The Bookworm Box. Congratulations on supporting this charity and doing your good deed for the year. My dumbass brilliant human wrote a book series all about the holidays. It’s called (wait for it) The Holidays Series. See? Dumbass. Brilliant. You should never, ever read this series because it’s full of inappropriate behavior and the stupidest characters I’ve ever come across in my four years of life. It’s really funny.
* * *
Anyway, thanks for not sucking being marvelous and supporting The Bookworm Box and these dreadful talented authors. If you even think of laughing at the photos of me below, I will lift my leg and piss all over your face kiss you and love you forever!
* * *
F*ck off Sincerely,
Fat Ralph
69 and James Bond-A Very Happy New Year
Taryn Plendl
"Okay, let's get started."
The booming voice echoed over the microphone as people milled around the back part of the bar. I still couldn't believe I let my friend Alyssa talk me into this. I mean, seriously, it was pretty pathetic that we were at a speed dating event on New Year's Eve, right? It was like a gathering of losers who couldn't find a date. I suddenly felt a lot like the kid on the playground who was picked last for the kick ball game. To make it worse, tomorrow was a family celebration for my younger sister's engagement. It was the whole meet the parents shin dig. Did I mention it was my younger sister, by four-years, who was getting married? Not bitter… not one bit.
"This is going to be so much fun, Lydia!" Alyssa squealed next to me before smoothing out my paper number that was already crinkling in protest. I took that as a sign that I shouldn't even be there. "Did you even notice your number?" She giggled.
I hadn't—I'd been too busy grumbling and pouting to care, but all of a sudden I wished I had noticed it and asked for a different one. A big black 6-9 glared at me from my makeshift name tag. "Fucking fabulous," I groaned.
"You are going to be the prime pick with that number." Alyssa continued to laugh at my awkward predicament.
"Shut it, bitch. You are still on my shit list for talking me into this." I glanced around the room at all the people. Girls on one side, boys on the other. It was like a middle school dance for fuck's sake. Come to think of it, some of the guys looked like they were barely older than middle school. Was this an under eighteen event?
"Ladies, please go to the table that corresponds with your given number," The man with the microphone instructed. I looked around and realized that there was really no rhyme or reason to the numbers. There were only around twenty tables, yet they had random numbers. Were the organizers on drugs?
Alyssa waved and headed across the room to take her seat as I looked around for table sixty-nine. I finally found it back by the hallway to the bathroom. Of course, why would I be anywhere else? Maybe they assumed with my number that I would want to sneak away for a quickie in the bathroom.
"The rules are a bit different than your typical speed dating tonight. We want to give everyone the opportunity to ring in the New Year with someone, so if you feel like you are a match with someone, take your number and turn it over on your table. You and your new match can then retire to the reception room through those doors." The MC pointed to a set of double doors. "If everyone is ready, let's get started. The men will switch tables every five minutes."
I watched as the men/boys began moving around the room to the table number they were supposed to start at. My stomach began to feel sick as I eyed a portly guy with a receding hairline make his way to me. With a plastered a smile on my face, I silently cursed Alyssa and pulled out the index card that she had given me with some questions on it. I guess she figured I needed the help. She had no idea.
* * *
Three guys had moved on from my table. I wasn't upset, not one bit. I wasn't sure what type of men I expected to be at a singles event on New Year's Eve, but I did know that I couldn't have imagined it would be this bad.
I'm pretty sure some of these guys could be found in the fetish videos on You Porn, dry-humping pool toys or masturbating onto shoes. Don't ask how I knew about these, sometimes you stumble upon things that can't be unseen when looking for the perfect video … so I've been told.
I took a sip of my glass of wine as the room shifted around. I looked up and did a double take. Number seventy-two sat across from me with his deep brown, bedroom eyes and perfectly styled hair. He wore a nice button up shirt and jeans that hugged him in all the right places.
"Hello, Sixty-nine." He grinned at my number. "Was that planned or did you just get lucky with that number?" He asked.
"Lucky, I guess." I shrugged, giving him my best smile. I suddenly felt like the whole night wasn't a total loss. This guy was gorgeous. I pulled out my question cards, feeling a bit more upbeat.
"What do you do for work?" I asked.
He leaned in, looking me in the eyes. "I am an Anesthesiologist. How about you?"
Nice, a doctor! "I'm a teacher," I said, smiling at him.
"I like that." He grinned, taking a sip from his glass. "What do you do for fun?" He inquired.
"I like to go out with friends, dancing—basically anything that constitutes adult time, after spending my days with children," I explained. "What about you?"
"When I'm not working, I mostly like to stay in." He smirked.
I was about to ask another question when suddenly number seventy-two pulled his camera out and snapped a picture of me. "What are you doing?" I frowned as his thumbs frantically moved over his phone. "I'm sending your picture to my wife," He explained as if there was nothing even remotely wrong with that statement.
"Pardon me?" I asked, sure I must've heard him wrong. He finished his text, placed the phone down and grinned at me. "Wait, did you say ‘your wife'?" I asked, still completely confused. "Yes," he confirmed with
My mouth opened and shut several times with no sound coming out. I looked around the room, sure I must've been getting punked or something. This shit couldn't possibly be real. I quickly stood up just as the bell sounded, and flipped my number over. Number seventy-two's eyes lit up and I realized my blunder. "No. Hell no." I shook my head and walked as fast as I could away from the musical chairs.
* * *
"I need a shot of Fireball," I said as I took a seat at the bar across the room from the speed dating nightmare.
The bartender set the glass of amber liquid down in front of me and I shot it back without a second thought, sighing as the burn of the cinnamon whiskey coated my throat. "That Bad?"
I finally ventured a glance up at the man with the deep voice, who was smiling sympathetically at me. "You have no idea," I groaned, thanking him as he refilled my shot glass.
His warm chuckle made my stomach flip. Well, it could've actually been the Fireball, come to think of it. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, drawing my attention to the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen. His lips turned up in a smile when he caught me staring. I looked away from his face, only to land on his muscular forearms, covered in vivid colors of ink from his wrists to where the rolled cuffs of his shirt covered what I assumed was more tattoos. The man was stunning—breathtaking, and completely opposite of any man I usually looked at.
"Tell me what happened." He leaned the same gorgeous arms in front of me on the bar, bringing his face much closer to mine in the process. "It couldn't be half as bad as what you are making it out to be." He challenged.
I drew back so I could get my bearings. His proximity to my face was doing strange things to my stomach, which I was now positive had nothing to do with the two shots of Fireball. "Well," I began, "my options included a man who spent his five minutes showing me pictures of his cats, a man who would have to work his dates with me around giving his mom foot rubs at night and the best prospect of the night took a picture of me and sent it to his wife to see if she liked me enough to take me as their third." I began to giggle uncontrollably at the ridiculousness of the situation.
I thanked him again when another shot of Fireball appeared in front of me. "Shit." He shook his head.
"Exactly," I agreed, throwing back the third shot of Fireball. I set the glass down and looked up at him. "I would've been much better if I just asked my own questions instead of trying to take this thing seriously like my friend wanted me to." I tossed the note cards onto the bar.
The bartender picked them up and chuckled before tossing them into the garbage can. He wiped the top of the bar with a rag and cocked his head. "What would you ask?" He set the rag aside and leaned against the bar again. I looked around and realized that we were basically alone over here. Most everyone else was on the other side of the room participating in the speed dating cluster-fuck.
Deciding to play along, I leaned in too. "Okay, but you need to reciprocate with a question for me."
"Deal." He smirked.
"Okay, what would you do if you were told that you had to marry the first person you ever had a crush on?" I asked, eagerly waiting for his answer.
"Wait, shouldn't we exchange names first?" He asked.
"No. Absolutely not. No names, just numbers," I explained, pointing to my crumpling number that was barely hanging onto my shirt. "I'm sixty-nine and you can be zero."
"Hell no!" He shook his head, laughing. "If you get a cool number, I do too. I'm double-O-seven." He waggled his eyebrows at me.
"Nice! Okay, James Bond, answer the question." I laughed, shaking my head.
"Well, my first crush was my babysitter. She was seventeen and I was five. I saw her a couple of years back, outside the Methadone Clinic, so I shudder at the thought of having to marry her." He shook his head, grimacing.
"That's horrible!" I gasped.
"Agreed." He nodded. "My turn. If you were a stalker, would you be really good at it?"
I grinned at the ingenious question. I guess if he was concerned if I was crazy or not, he might as well get it out of the way, right? "I would aspire to be, but I'm pretty sure I would be a hot mess. I have a hard time keeping track of myself most of the time," I admitted.
He chuckled and patted my hand. "Well, at least you would aspire to be the best stalker,"
"Shoot for the stars and all that crap, right?" I giggled. "Okay, If I knew your full name, and Googled it, would I be more likely to want to date you, or less likely, or remain completely uninformed?"
"Huh," he paused, I don't think I've ever Googled myself before. I'm not sure what would come up, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be bad enough to scare you off or my parents would've disowned me by now."
I imagined his parents must've been pretty cool. "Are you close with your parents?" I asked, curious.
"Very." He nodded. "However, I don't give my mom foot rubs at night." He winked before continuing. "What would be your chosen superpower, and would you use it for good or evil?" He asked with a smirk.
"I would like to be invisible," I answered quickly. "I would mostly use it for personal gain with a few good deeds thrown in." The thought of being invisible once in a while sounded great. My younger sister was always the golden child. She was good at everything she did and gorgeous too. Unfortunately, she was a whiney drama queen most of the time and took her role as the baby of the family very seriously. I always felt like I was being analyzed and judged for everything I did, so invisible … that sounded fine with me.
The warm fingers that lifted my chin, took my breath away momentarily. His green eyes bore into me. "Well, Sixty-nine, I'm glad you aren't invisible." His voice was low, caressing me with each word.
"Well, James Bond, right now I'm pretty happy I'm not either." I leaned forward, almost as if I was drawn to him. He leaned forward too until our lips were almost touching. I closed my eyes and waited for the contact, but it never came.
"Hey," a deep voice boomed behind the bartender. "Thanks for covering for me." A tall blonde man stood next to James Bond. "I really appreciate it," He continued, looking at us.
"No problem. Happy to help." My new friend slid the white rag over to the blonde man. "I'm going to take off." My heart fell. I guess all good things must come to an end.
* * *
I watched the guys shake hands and decided it was probably time to head out myself. It wasn't even midnight, and I was heading home with my tail between my legs like a total loser. I reluctantly stood and sighed at my pathetic life.
"Thanks, James Bond." I waved and turned to go.
"James Bond?" I heard the other guy question and smiled as I moved to the door.
"Wait!" I heard a voice call. "Sixty-nine, wait!" I stopped at the door, unable to control the grin from taking over my face.
He sidled next to me and pushed open the door, placing his hand on the small of my back, allowing me to walk through it into the cool night.
"Want to walk to the park?" He asked, taking my hand in his. Although we had just met, something felt so right. I was breaking all of the rules for a single woman right then, but I didn't really care. I nodded as we crossed the street and moved to the west side of the large park in the center of town.
The darkness overtook this side of the park. The other side was where the playground and pavilion were, but this side was just trees, grass, and an occasional bench. I shivered as a cool breeze skirted over my bare legs.
"You cold?" He asked, concern filling his voice. I was barely able to make out his face in the darkness, but the warmth of his breath against my face brought on a second set of shivers for an entirely different reason. Suddenly, the last thing I was concerned with was the temperature. The entire night had been such a mess, and I really needed a bit of redemption. I wanted to feel like I was wanted—sexy and carefree. Something entirely different from my usual clean-cut life as an elementary teacher.
