{teaser excerpt from memoir number two: Beemer}

He was already bugging me with talk about how horny he was since being back on the “mainland” (shoot me), and what did I slip him because he gets a stiffy every time he thinks of me (double murder). I know tricks are just dying to hear how horny they make me, or how turned on I get when I think about them, but I can’t muscle the strength. I’m not getting paid that much. Like I’ve said, I’m either the worst h**ker on the planet or the biggest tease and therefore, best h**ker. I know I’m a brat, but I really don’t want to hear that shit. I don’t care about your erections! Maybe it’s the fact that these older men are just so psyched to get hard-ons. Honestly, I’m kind of amazed someone could read my manuscript and still say these things to me: a testament to my acting skills and the power of delusion.


Author’s note: I added Beemer’s bio to the “origin stories” on my domain. This passage follows a torturous work trip with him in Hawaii. And yes, I stupidly allowed him to read the unpublished manuscript.


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