Chapter 1 – Prancing Pony

My eyes suddenly jerk open when I feel the subtle shaking of my bed. For a minute, my sleep-addled brain wonders if we’re having an earthquake and panic sets in. Then I remember I live in Ohio and the house is probably not preparing to crumble down around me. As my eyes adjust to the darkness in my childhood bedroom, I listen intently for sounds of heavy breathing or the distinct metallic clang of a knife sharpening, certain the shaking of my bed is a not-so-stealthy axe murderer preparing to slit my throat.

What? That could totally happen. Some dude could have broken into my parent’s home and now he’s sitting on the edge of my bed, sharpening his giant knife.

I hold my breath in fear. I begin to slowly turn my head and prepare to come face-to-face with a homicidal maniac when something kicks the back of my leg with the force of a two-by-four.

“Ouch! Son of a bitch!” I shout as I quickly flop over in bed. Unfortunately, I don’t come face-to-face with a killer. What I do find in my bed next to me is much worse.

“Tyler! What the f**k are you still doing in my bed?” I whisper-yell, hoping my initial outburst didn’t wake my parents, who are sleeping down the hall.

Tyler Branson, man-child extraordinaire and the guy I’ve been shame f**king for the past few months, doesn’t even bat an eye at me. I listen in irritation as he lightly snores and watch as his legs jerk forward every couple of seconds. Pretty soon, his arms join in, reminding me of those stupid YouTube videos of dogs dreaming that they’re running.

Almost immediately, a sound that can only be described as a whinny passes his lips as his arms and legs move at a faster pace, my bed bouncing with the force of his movements.

Oh, my God. Oh, sweet mother of Mary...

Reaching for my bedside table, I quickly turn on my lamp even though seeing Tyler swathed in any kind of lighting right now makes me want to puke. This is an image I don’t want burned into my brain.

With my face scrunched up in disgust, I reach around his flailing arms and punch him in the chest. His eyes fly open in fear and he bolts up in bed, scrambling backwards until his back hits the headboard.

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“What is it? What happened?” he asks frantically as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“What the hell were you doing?” I demand.

His eyes zone right in on my braless chest covered in a tank top. I quickly pull the sheet up to my chin and give him a dirty look.

“I was sleeping. What the hell did you wake me up for?” he complains.

“You kicked me and made a horse noise.”

He stares at me blankly for a moment before scoffing at me in disbelief and sliding back down the bed until his head hits the pillow again.

“I was having a dream. Now leave me alone and let me go back to sleep.”

When he rolls over, I shove my hand against his back. “Were you dreaming about horses? You were f**king prancing in your sleep.”

Tyler looks over his shoulder at me and I watch his face redden with embarrassment. “What? You’re delusional. I don’t prance. I NEVER prance.”

I just shake my head at him. “You were totally prancing in your sleep. Prancing and whinnying like a damn horse.”

“You shut your face! Shut your face right now!” he shouts.

I shove my finger close to his nose. “No, YOU shut your prancing face, Twilight Sparkle, before my parents hear you. You’re not even supposed to BE here. You were supposed to sneak out of my bedroom window just like always. Get out of my bed!”

He huffs in irritation and angrily flings the blankets off of him before getting out of bed. My already black soul dies a little more inside when I can’t tear my eyes away from his perfect ass and his chiseled abs as he pulls his clothes on, muttering under his breath the entire time.

This was never supposed to happen. Sleeping with Tyler was supposed to be a one-time thing – a means of scratching an itch and quelling the boredom that has consumed my life lately. The first time we had sex and he sang the theme song from My Little Pony while he went down on me should have sent me running for the hills like my ass was on fire. He’s immature, he constantly pisses me off and he’s twenty-five years old and can’t hold down a job to save his life.

But dammit, sex with Tyler was the biggest high I’ve ever had in my life.

It’s official: I am clinically insane.

I am twenty-one-years old and I hate my life. Okay, maybe hate is a strong word. I’m dissatisfied. I took a leave of absence from college because wasting my parents’ money when I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life was pointless. I’ve been working at my mother’s company, Seduction and Snacks, as an administrative assistant for the past few months and hating every minute of it. My mother co-owns the business with her best friend Claire. Mom’s side is the Seduction half of the equation. They sell all things sex from toys, p**n and games to lingerie and costumes. Claire operates the Snacks side, where they make the best damn baked goods ever to hit the Midwest. Sounds amazing, right? I should love the fact that my family has made a small fortune over the years and that Seduction and Snacks is now located in twenty-eight states throughout the U.S. I should also enjoy working in the family business and take pride in the fact that my mother and my Aunt Claire started building this empire when they were only a few years older than me.

Maybe that’s my problem. They were my age when they came up with this idea and they made it a reality only three years later. I don’t have any earth shattering, groundbreaking ideas. I have nothing that’s just mine alone, except a fashion blog where I talk about clothes and purses and other things that interest me. I’m expected to work at Seduction and Snacks and continue living their dream. It’s not my dream, though. I have no f**king clue what my dream is aside from finding a good sale at Nordstrom’s for those Michael Kors wedge pumps I’ve had my eye on.

Which brings us back to Tyler. And no, he’s not my f**king dream either! He’s just a way to keep my mind off of the fact that I’m in my early twenties and clueless about where my life is going. Obviously, it’s going nowhere fast with Tyler and I need to nip this thing in the bud immediately.

Tyler pulls his shirt down over his head and I pretend like I’m not sad to see his na**d abs go.

“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out at three-o’clock in the morning,” he grumbles as he slides his feet into tennis shoes without bothering to tie them.

He walks over to my window and slides it open, looking back at me and smirking. “So, same time, same place tomorrow?”

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “No. Absolutely not. We’re not doing this anymore. Leave and don’t come back.”

He’s got one leg swung over the windowsill and his body halfway out before he jerks his head back inside and stares at me in surprise. “What? What do you mean ‘don’t come back’? Like, don’t come back tomorrow, or ever?”

Seriously, how can he be so dense?

“Ever. This was a huge mistake.”

He actually has the nerve to growl at me. Thank God he didn’t whinny or I’d be puking right into my lap.

“Fine! But you’ll be begging for another piece of Tyler, mark my words!”

“Jesus Christ, don’t talk about yourself in third person,” I complain.

“They come back, they always come back to Tyler,” he mutters with another smirk, completely ignoring me.

“By ‘they’, I’m assuming you’re talking about the ponies you were dreaming about?” I chuckle.

“Fuck your face! Fuck your face right now!” he demands.

“Get the hell out of my bedroom and don’t come back, Prancer!” I fire back.

Sticking his tongue out at me in one poorly-executed, last ditch effort to put me in my place, he tries to smoothly exit my window but his head smacks against the frame. He lets go of the sill to grab his wounded head and loses his balance, falling out the window and into the shrubs on the other side.

“Mother f**king dick f**k ass cake piece of shit shrub!” I hear him whisper from the yard.

Getting out of bed, I rush over to the window, slam it closed and secure the lock. I climb back into bed, turn off my light and try to think about anything other than Tyler Branson and his stupid tongue.

I can totally quit Broke Back Moron, piece of cake.

Chapter 2 – A Happy Va**na is a Happy Life

“My life is over,” I wail, plopping myself down in the chair across from Gavin’s desk.

He looks up from his computer and cocks his head. “So you got fired from The Gap? You didn’t like that job anyway.”

I stare at him in confusion and shake my head sadly. “I’m sorry, have we met? Who gives a shit about The Gap? I’m talking about Ava. I’m pretty sure she’s not going to have sex with me anymore.”

In all honesty, I am kind of pissed about getting fired. It’s not like working at The Gap was a dream job, but it paid for p**n and strip clubs so it had some perks. I gave those assholes two of the best months of my life and what do they do? Get audited by corporate and tell me the copy of my birth certificate I gave them when they hired me was a fake. As if!

“I thought you couldn’t stand Ava?” Gavin asks in confusion.

“I can’t. All she does is bitch at me. But man alive, that chick’s got a mouth like a Shop Vac.”

Gavin winces and mimics dry heaving. “Seriously dude, stop. Just stop.”

Gavin and I have been best friends ever since we met our freshman year in college. It’s unfortunate that I was na**d during that first meeting, but what can you do? Sometimes the boys just like to dangle while you’re hanging pictures around your dorm room. Anyway, as soon as we got to talking (after I put pants on), I knew this was a guy I wanted in my corner. He’s a good-looking dude, so he’s always had a plethora of hot chicks sniffing around him. Lucky for me, he’s been in love with Charlotte, his childhood sweetheart, since birth and I, therefore got all his castoffs.

Some dudes would probably be offended at being the second-best choice. Those dudes are obviously dumb f**ks who don’t know rule number one in the guy handbook - you never, ever turn down pussy. Gavin’s feelings towards Charlotte are obviously not brotherly, but he’s always looked at Ava as a little sister. Needless to say, talk about our sexcapades grosses him the f**k out.

“I guess I shouldn’t let it get to me. I mean, how can I bang a chick that has no appreciation for animals?” I ask in irritation as I kick my feet up on his desk.

“I’m pretty sure Ava loves animals. I think the problem is that she didn’t expect to sleep with one,” Gavin replies with a smirk.

I knew I shouldn’t have told him about that whole horse incident the other night.

“So what’s on the agenda today, dick licker? Are we going to watch some chicks masturbate, maybe construct a mold of my penis for a new sex toy?” I ask, quickly moving the conversation away from my embarrassing evening with Ava.

Gavin has worked in Product Development for Seduction and Snacks ever since graduating from college. Lucky bastard.

Shaking his head at me, he gets up from behind the desk and heads towards the door. “How many times do I have to tell you that no one masturbates inside this building?”

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t like it when you lie to me and crush my dreams,” I remind him as I follow him out into the hall.

Luckily, Ava isn’t at her desk right outside Gavin’s office. She works part time as his secretary and I made sure to stop by today when she was on her lunch break. Actually, regardless of what time I stop by, chances of her ass being in that desk were miniscule. That chick is hot as f**k and the best lay I’ve ever had, but working is not her strong suit.

“Our tour guide for the warehouse was in a pretty bad car accident over the weekend, so I’m stuck taking over the tours until we can find a replacement,” Gavin explains as he pushes open the double doors to the warehouse.

I’ve strolled through the warehouse and even participated in a few tours, but each time I walk through those doors is like the first time. I swear as soon as I set foot in this place I can hear a choir of angels singing. As far as the eye can see, row after row, aisle after aisle, box after box – are sex toys. Metal shelving from floor to ceiling filled with boxes of beautifully crafted love machines.

I don’t even realize I’m mumbling until Gavin punches me in the arm.

“Were you just chanting ‘This is my home; this is where I belong’?”

I just shrug and follow him over to the first aisle, where a group of about ten women ranging in ages from twenty-five to sixty-five stand, anxiously awaiting their tour of Mecca.

“No talking, no crying, no sword fights with the dildos and please, for the love of God, do NOT lick the Chocolate Thunders on aisle twelve again,” Gavin warns me under his breath.

Is it my fault they named a sex toy after chocolate? How the f**k was I supposed to know it didn’t taste like chocolate? That’s false advertising, if you ask me.

“Ladies, welcome to Seduction and Snacks! My name is Gavin and I’m the head of Product Development. If you’ll just follow me, we can start the tour.”

“This one has slow pulses along with intense vibrations. It’s got an easy two-button functionality and you’ll be happy to know it’s made from durable, phthalate-free plastic. I would highly recommend this toy for any of you first-timers who just aren’t sure how to start when building your toy collection. It’s one of our most popular models and I guarantee you’ll enjoy it.”

Gavin was called away from the tour a half hour ago for an emergency conference call. I felt bad for all these bitches standing around waiting for him, so I figured I might as well carry on with the tour.




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