Free The Lumberfox (Geekrotica) by Ava Lovelace

THE LUMBERFOX
    A Geekrotica Romance
    by Ava Lovelace
     
    Just two more exits and Tara would beat the snowstorm home for some private time with
a
six-inch tall scoundrel she'd nicknamed Han Solo. When she'd scurried into the dark-windowed shop downtown, sunglasses firmly covering half her face, the morning had been sunny but cold, the crisp sort of day that makes a sexually frustrated geek girl finally decide to find her g-spot with a little extra, vibrating help. But when she'd stepped back out onto the sidewalk, nondescript paper bag in hand, the clouds were heavy and gray and the first fat snowflakes were swirling around, mocking her. The guy on the radio had urged everyone off the roads, but she was so close to home, and her Jeep had 4WD. Considering she'd gone to college up north , she was one of ten people in Georgia who actually knew how to drive in winter weather. Even with traffic at a crawl and the Hoth-like air thick with swirling white, she knew she could make it. After all, it was just a little storm, and Atlanta never had any accumulation.
    She changed stations and heard a girl laugh like Malibu Barbie on crack.
    “Snowpocalypse, Snowjam, or the End of the World: whatever you call it, the governor is urging everyone to seek shelter immediately. The roads will soon be entirely iced over, and there are over three hundred wrecks on the streets right now. If you're in your car and can see a lit building, get there as fast as possible.”
    “Lady, you're too damn perky to proclaim doom,” Tara muttered. “Have some gravitas.” Bored out of her mind, she muttered, “Luke, put on a hat,” in her best Darth Vader voice. “There is another thing: wear more socks. You will catch a cold.”
    Hoping for music instead of murder by meteorology, Tara flipped through the buttons, rolling her eyes as each voice swore she was about to die. Desperate to feel anything but frustration, she decided it was time to use her last drop of iPod juice for a good cause and scrolled to Black Parade by My Chemical Romance, turning it up loud enough to drown out all the honking. The car in front of her moved a foot, and she moved a foot and pretended not to feel the tires slide, just a little. If she could just get over this bridge, she could probably swerve into the emergency lane and barrel through in the ditch. Not only because being stuck in the closest Home Depot with a bunch of strangers sounded like her version of hell, but also because she had a date, and the unassuming white plastic vibrator in her bag looked like the impatient type. That's why she'd decided to call him Han Solo: he was cocky and looked like he was going to shoot first.
    Just out of curiosity, and because sitting in dead still traffic was boring, she pulled Han out of the bag, slid him out of his box, and twisted open the battery compartment. It was kind of crazy how two little AA batteries could make something vibrate in so many ways, and she switched it on and off a few times, getting accustomed to the button controls. Gerard Way didn't mind a bit and kept on singing. She shoved Han back into his box and rolled down the top of the paper bag, still feeling a little shy about the entire business. When the car behind her honked, she barely heard it. Looking up, she saw about twelve feet of space in front of her, a huge coup.
    Finally, she was able to inch off the overpass and start to edge into the emergency lane, thankful that her Jeep could probably handle it. Right up until the entire Jeep slammed forward and she narrowly missed bashing her head on the steering wheel. Panic shot through her nerves, her hands going frozen as she put the Jeep in park and took inventory. She wasn't hurt or even sore. Her car hadn't hit anyone else, thankfully. But Han was on the floorboard, along with her laptop bag, phone, and dashboard zombie, and she couldn't see anything but two bright lights in a wall of white outside the back window. What sort of crap-driving Southern