Free Random Acts of Fantasy by Julia Kent

turned away from where Suzy chatted with great animation and fervor as Joe really, truly turned green.
    “And who, exactly, is she?” Darla asked with an arch in her voice higher than a runway fashion model’s foot in Milan. Her hand shot out and brushed against her braless boob and I froze, completely engrossed by the beauty of her soft roundness, how that arm got to rub up against her breast whenever it wanted, with heedless insouciance, and I wanted to be that upper arm.
    Her elbow.
    I wanted to be anything but me, Trevor, standing in an airport watching this train wreck unfold before me. We were supposed to be having fun, dammit, and watching Joe get air humped by the words coming out of Suzy’s mouth while Darla prepared to turn Suzy into a one-woman human centipede wasn’t my idea of frolicking.
    Liam, Sam, and Amy walked up behind me, all gawking at Joe and—
    “Is that Suzy?” Sam gasped, starting to laugh and then pretending to cough.
    “Holy shit!” Liam burst out, letting his laughter come out. He clapped Sam on the shoulder and the two of them turned away, snickering.
    “Dude is so fucked,” Sam added as Amy looked at me, bewildered.
    “Suzy is…”
    “Joe’s ex.”
    Joe and I were no stranger to women fighting over us. Especially Joe. He’d been at the center of chick fights for all of college, and most of the band’s life.
    Maybe we should have named ourselves Hair Pull.
    Something about him drew women to him like moths to a flame. Babies to a breast. Middle-aged women to Benedict Cumberbatch. Sam to his sticks. Liam to pussy. A great dane to a woman’s crotch.
    You get the point.
    Darla hadn’t met any of our exes, though, and the look of confusion and pure revulsion as she and Suzy sized each other up and found the other deeply wanting made my hands clench.
    And then it hit me.
    Joe hadn’t told her.
    Every relationship has that awkward point where you have to tell each other your innermost thoughts and feelings, and all that touchy-feely crap.
    And then there’s your cock’s story. Oh, it has one. The cock has its own biography, and it can be a slim volume stapled and folded in half like a little pamphlet or a three-volume series complete with extensive footnotes. Some books even need to be read while wearing sterile gloves and an air-filter mask.
    But our cocks all have a history, and when we get into a new relationship, the dick’s dirty laundry has to be aired.
    Joe, though, had kept his stinkiest, most-stained nasty old cloth to himself. And now that old cloth was getting rubbed in his face in an airport terminal between a donut shop and an airport bookstore with a long line of Fifty Shades books the backdrop for his comeuppance. 
    I groaned. Couldn’t help it. My time interpreting and explaining my dick’s adventures hadn’t been exactly fun, but Darla got it. Her pussy had some tales to tell as well, and her history was more Scheherazade than Pope Joan. I mean, my magic number was still larger than hers, but not by much. A finger or two, if we’re counting.
    Those stories, I knew, had been told to Joe, because Darla told me she’d told him.
    Turned out old Joe had been holding out on her.
    “Joe never told you about Suzy,” I said in a hiss of a sigh. My chest ached and my legs were filled with a tight energy that needed to be kicked out.
    On Joe’s ass.
    “Suzy.” Darla might as well have said, “Shit.”
    “Suzy is Joe’s ex ,” I started to explain.
    “I heard Sam say that. She better be.” I looked at Darla—really looked at her. The anxiety she’d shown in the TSA line was gone. All her focus was on Suzy, which was good. Whatever the fuck had happened back in Government Grope Land was done, and now we had this mess to deal with.
    Her chest heaved and her eyes were so narrow and determined, so pinpoint smart, that my cock began to twitch, then slowly rise and make my pants tight.
    The power emanating off Darla as she held herself back from marching over to