Fucking focus.
Right . . . I bend and lift her dress over her head in one fell swoop, and as she lifts her arms up, I’m greeted with patches of thick black hair under her arms. Long and stringy, sticking to her arms with perspiration.
What?
I look down, and her pubic hair is hanging out of her G-string. It’s growing halfway to her knees.
No . . .
I begin to sweat . . . what the actual fuck is that?
“I’ve got a surprise for you.” She giggles.
“I’m already surprised,” I mutter, distracted.
She pulls her panties down. The hair is thick, black, and long . . . I open my mouth to say something, but no words will come out.
Abort mission.
Abort fucking mission.
She pulls me into the bedroom. A mattress is on the floor, and she lies down and spreads her legs.
My eyes widen in horror as my dick instantly shrivels. “Do you have a bathroom?” I splutter.
She sucks her finger and then slowly slides it through the lips of her sex. “Come here,” she purrs.
This should be so hot right now . . . my dick is like jelly?
Focus.
“Bathroom?” I squeak.
“Up the stairs to the left.”
I take the stairs two at a time and rush into the bathroom and lock the door. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. What the fuck is happening right now?
I splash water on my face. Get ahold of yourself, man.
You can do this!
I open the vanity cupboard behind the mirror and peer in. There’s a heap of tubes of cream. I pick one up and read the label.
LAMISIL.
I go through all the tubes. They are all the same. My eyes widen. Oh no. What the fuck is this?
Does she have something?
I frantically take out my phone and type into Google.
What is Lamisil used for?
It’s taking forever . . . come on.
I hit refresh.
“Come the fuck on,” I whisper.
Bad reception.
What’s this fucking shit used for?
I dial Elliot’s number.
“Hey,” he answers happily. “Miss me already?”
“Help me,” I whisper in a panic. “I have an emergency.”
“What’s wrong?” he stammers.
“I’m at this chick’s house and I took her pants off and it’s gorillas in the mist down there and her house is Rocky Horror Picture Show and now I found fifty tubes of Lamisil in her bathroom cabinet,” I blurt out in a rush.
“Gorillas in the mist?” he repeats. “What do you mean?”
“Fucking full bush, man. You’ve never seen pubic hair like this. I need a fucking machete to chop my way in.”
“Fucking hell.” He gasps.
“Search Lamisil. I have bad internet.”
“Okay.”
I wait on. My heart is hammering hard in my chest.
“Christo?” I hear her yell. “Hurry up.”
Fuck!
“Oh god,” Elliot replies. “This isn’t good.”