Free June (Calendar Girl #6) by Audrey Carlan Page A

starting without me pumpkin?” he said, sizing his almost naked wife and me up.
    “Can’t wait. Give me your cock, Daddy, I want to suck on it while you suck on me.”
    “Girl, what have I told you about getting naked in public places,” he scolded, though he didn’t sound that upset. “I’m going to dock your allowance for this transgression.”
    She groaned. “But I can’t help it. I need you.”
    That was most definitely my cue. “Uh, I’m going to go and see my uh…Warren,” I said not being able to call him “Daddy” again. It just grossed me out.
    When I was just at the threshold of the ladies room door I heard Christine sigh and moan. “Gonna ride you so hard, I love you Franny, I love you. Love fucking you.”
    “Get on it pumpkin. That’s right; fuck me until you come hard enough to last until tonight. Jesus this pregnancy is going to kill me.” I heard her husband say, his Canadian accent thick and strong. If it was me, I’d definitely be worried about his health. The heart attack years were definitely upon him and if he was downing those blue pills with alcohol and tons of rough sex with a twenty-five year old, he definitely had something to worry about.
    When I exited the bathroom, Warren was waiting for me. His eyes seemed troubled as I grabbed onto his wrist. “Let’s get far away from here.”
    “Why? Francis said he wanted to talk to me about using his ships for the supplies I need to go to Mali.”
    “I know, I set it all up with his wife. But they’re indisposed and if you go in there, they are going to invite you to join their little public sexy time.” I warned.
    He cringed. “I see. We should wait for them at the bar then. You can tell me all about what was said. Shall we?” He held out his arm like the perfect gentleman. Definitely the way a grandfather would to his granddaughter and not his hot piece of ass. Classy guy. At least I got the good one. Though Francis didn’t seem half bad once I got past the fact that he’d married and impregnated a woman three times younger than he was. I shivered and Warren stopped, took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
    “Thank you.”
    “Any time. Now tell me what happened.”
     
    ***
    Apparently scoring the Canadian ships was a huge part of the go-live plan for Warren’s project. Together, we sat at the bar at the stuffy event and had drink after drink of incredibly expensive top shelf whiskey. Even Christine sat with us and sucked on her non-alcoholic drinks happily enjoying herself. I guess once the edge of her horniness was dulled, she really was a lot of fun.
    At nearly two in the morning, James the driver had to hold both Warren and me up as we walked up the stone steps singing a ridiculous rendition of “I’m Henry the Eighth I Am” so loud that, when the foyer lights went on, we were both shocked. Kathleen leaned against a bannister, arms crossed over her chest, lips pinched tight.
    “Good night?” she asked, her tone indecipherable.
    Warren moved over to her with the quickness of a man half his age. He pulled her into his arms then pulled each hand out and started dancing with her. Swinging her from one side to the next, dipping her low. I clapped and swayed then grabbed a hold of James who took pity on me and twirled me around the foyer alongside Warren and Kathleen. The four of us danced for a bit until both of our dance partners led us up the stairs.
    “Oh man, wait. Warren, buddy…don’t forget to tell Kathleen about that score!”
    He laughed as I slumped into James. Without further comment, he lifted me into a fireman’s carry, my body a dead weight. I smacked his surprisingly firm ass. “Nice!” I said then remembered I still wanted to say something. “Wait...” I smacked his ass again, and he stopped laughing and tried to grab my hands. “...and tell her about the gross bathroom sex they had!”
    Warren started laughing so hard he sat down in the middle of the floor. I wanted to go help