Chapter 5
Trevor
“Hey, man. You ready?”
I let out a snort. “How did I let you con me into this?”
“Where’s your shirt?” Jason goads, pointing at my jacket. It’s zipped up to my neck, whereas his is plainly visible for all to see. A white cotton T-shirt is stretched across his pecs, ‘I like tits & ass’ emblazoned across the front.
Apparently, Shotgun Sam is big into holiday get-togethers. Just not the typical Halloween or Fourth of July variety. Matt had joked that Sam likes to embrace the lesser recognized ones to show them a little love .
Sam had dropped by the station on his day off several weeks ago creating quite a stir. We were each asked to choose either a T-shirt, hat, or button in preparation for his party. Despite my prodding, no additional information was provided. They merely laughed it off, acting as if this was routine for a Shotgun Sam party. Later, we were instructed to write two things we liked and put them into a bag. Again, I had no idea where this was going until the shirts, hats, and buttons were distributed, and the party theme was explained in greater detail.
“It’s National Ampersand Day,” Dave announced. “Read ’em and weep.”
I recall opening the plastic bag thrust in my direction, looking at the white cotton T-shirt in confusion. “To be allowed entrance to the party, you must wear something that says ‘I like ______ & _______’ as an icebreaker. Don’t take it too seriously, man.” Matt had joked. “It’s just a way to meet new people.”
“You know you have to unzip that to get in, right?” he asks, returning me to the present.
“Hell. Does it have to stay that way? I can’t believe you guys couldn’t give me more intel than ‘write down two things you like’ before I filled out that little piece of paper.”
Jason grabs my shoulder, giving it a playful shake as we continue driving down the winding tree-lined road toward Sam’s ranch.
“Shit, it’s gorgeous out here.”
“Yep. God’s country. I love it. You need to come fishing with me sometime. Huge largemouth bass out there. Never caught anything as big as what I do in Sycamore.”
“I didn’t fish much back home. My friend Zach and I would hit the lake occasionally, but I never caught anything bigger than a postage stamp.” I chuckle.
“Well, get ready for Jurassic Park fish, my friend. Everything is bigger in Sycamore Mountain.” Jason barely completes his sentence before we turn onto a dirt road lined with cars. There have to be fifty of them.
“Is this his place? Hell, I didn’t know this many people lived here.”
“They probably don’t. They come from far and wide for Sam’s parties. Fuck. A lot of them crash at his place afterward. Everyone’s learned by now to bring a tent and stay the night. Not worth driving after tying one on.”
Looking at Jason skeptically, I consider how I’m getting home.
“Don’t worry. I’m going to behave tonight. We’ve got to be at the station at six in the morning. When we leave, I figured I’ll drop you at your house and probably head straight to the station so I’m there and ready to go.”
“Not a bad idea. I might do the same.”
Jason parks his black Ford F150, and we head toward the sound of music in the distance. It looks more like a festival than a private party.
“So, would this guy really turn someone away who drove all this way if they weren’t wearing this ridiculous shirt?”
“Try him.” Jason laughs.
Apparently so.
“Hey, Jason. Good to see ya. Love the shirt,” the vivacious redhead greets as she thrusts her tits out for his approval. She’s wearing a low-cut V-neck that reads, ‘I like books & beard burn.’
Holy hell.
“Who’s your friend? I hope he’s got a ticket to ride.”
I’m not sure I want to know what she’s referring to.
“Unzip, Trev,” Jason encourages, slapping me on the back.
I open my running jacket to reveal my shirt. It reads, ‘I like dogs & double Ds.’ Good Lord, this is embarrassing.
“Nice,” the freckle-faced girl responds. Her tits are nice, but they’re clearly not double Ds. Not that I’ve ever been picky about breast size. I love them in all shapes and sizes. Large, soft, small, and firm, creamy or dark, pink nipples or large tan areolas. Doesn’t matter. I’m a breast man, through and through. I prefer natural but wouldn’t turn down a perky artificial pair.
“Umph.”
Hearing Jason’s utterance, I turn to see a slender pair of arms draped around his neck.
“Hey, Addy. Drop in anytime.” He chuckles.
As the stunning creature from behind him emerges, my mouth goes dry. Holy shit. That’s got to be the head-turner from The Cellar Bar the other night. Standing before me with a radiant smile, the dark haired stunner is about five foot ten with long hair, porcelain skin, and mesmerizing blue eyes. Her beauty is so hypnotic I almost miss the white T-shirt stretched across her perky breasts. My eyes drops down to take in the words, ‘I like big dicks & men who know how to use them.’
Classy .
“Addison, meet Trevor Laurence. He’s new to the station,” Jason says to her with a wink.
Wait. What’s that about?
Before I can say hello, she’s strolling in my direction with purpose, closer than one would anticipate was normal for an introduction. The beauty unabashedly traces the writing on my shirt with her sparkly red fingernail. This intrusion into my personal space would’ve been a turn-on before Ashley. Now? Well now I need to make it clear I have boundaries.
“Hi, Trevor,” she purrs, continuing to follow the letters printed over my chest, her deep blue eyes never straying from mine. “That’s too bad.”
“What’s that?” My words come out clipped. Almost a grumble, given her proximity to me. Stifling my attractiveness to this stunning woman is making me tense.
“They’re only a C.” She pouts. “Do you have any?”
Tits? I can’t help my confused stare.
“Dogs,” she clarifies.
“No.”
The brazen tart tilts her head to the side, giving me a curious glance. “You like dogs, but you don’t have any? What’s the fascination then?”
“They’re loyal,” I bite back. It’s clear I’m going to need to keep far away from this one. Between her looks, her overly flirtatious behavior, and her self-proclaimed interest in big dick energy, Addison spells nothing but trouble.
“Oh,” she snaps. Her eyes narrow as she crosses her slender arms over those luscious C cups. Addison abruptly spins on her heel before giving Jason a peck on the cheek. “Are any of your less grumpy friends coming to the party?”
What the fuck?
“He’s not so bad, Addy. Give the guy a chance. It’s his first time at a Shotgun Sam party. He’s just getting acclimated.” Jason flashes an apologetic smirk at me before looking back in her direction. “I’m grabbing a beer. You want anything, doll?”
“No. I have a hard apple cider over there.” She points toward a small wooden crate being used as a table between two folding chairs. I recognize the couple from The Cellar Bar seated there.
“Okay. I’m going to introduce Trev to some folks. I’ll catch up with you later, sweet girl.”
Unable to stop watching this magnificent creature, I follow her as she slinks over to several muscular men. Sliding her arms around two of them, they turn simultaneously, beaming as they take her in. One man is wearing a shirt that says, ‘I like Bourbon & Barb.’ The other I cannot decipher from this angle.
Suddenly, a petite blonde walks up to the bourbon lover and places a kiss on his cheek. Her shirt reads, ‘I like bellinis and bubble baths.’ I assume this is Barb, but this appears to be quite an affectionate group of party-goers. So who knows.
“Come on, man. Let me introduce you to some folks.” Jason redirects my attention, walking ahead of me to the makeshift bar in the distance. Unable to stop myself, I glance over my shoulder in Addison’s direction. Out of the blue her eyes connect with mine. Addison waves, flashing a broad smile, ensuring I know she’s well aware of my ogling.
Don’t even think about it, Trevor. This girl is nothing but trouble.