assure you, it didn’t involve pot brownies and requests for pizza parties. Not to mention, her little admission of it being over a year since she’s had sex has my mind dreaming up all sorts of hot and dirty scenarios.
Christ. I let out a deep sigh, and carefully, without touching her skin, reach down to lift the comforter up with my fingertips and cover her gorgeous breasts from view. While I’m not opposed to the idea of seeing Birdie’s glorious tits, I am opposed to seeing them without her consent.
Once I make sure she’s all settled in, I head out of my bedroom and back into the kitchen. The pizza still has another five or so minutes to bake, so I grab my cell phone from the pocket of my jeans and shoot off a text to my brother Lance.
Me: You working tonight?
Lance: Yep. Why?
Me: I have a quick medical question for you. Are pot brownies dangerous?
He responds a minute later.
Lance: What the hell kind of question is that?
Me: I have a friend who accidentally consumed a pot brownie, and she, well, got really fucking high and is now passed out in my bed.
Lance: Good Lord, the situations you get yourself into. No wonder I’m Mom and Dad’s favorite.
Me: C’mon, dude. Get serious. I made sure she drank some water and she downed like half a bag of Doritos before she passed out, but is there anything else I need to do for her? She’s going to be okay, right?
Lance: Pretty sure you’ve had pot brownies before. Among a lot of other fucking things. Shouldn’t you know how to deal with it?
Yeah, I was a bit wild in my early twenties, so shoot me. But that’s beside the fucking point right now.
Me: Lance. Stop fucking around and tell me if there’s something else I should do for her.
Lance: Was it just one brownie?
Me: Yeah, I’m pretty sure.
Lance: Did she consume anything else? Alcohol? Other drugs?
Me: Just a few glasses of champagne, I think, but I can’t be sure. Definitely no other drugs, though. She’s not that kind of girl.
Lance: She should be fine. I’d let her sleep it off and just keep an eye out that she doesn’t get a second wind and decide to go do something crazy like drive a car.
The oven timer dings, and I shoot my brother one last text before heading back toward the oven.
Me: Okay. Thanks, bro.
Once I have the hot pizza out on the counter and the oven turned off, I head back into my bedroom to check on the little pot brownie consumer. Thankfully, she’s just as I left her, sound asleep in my bed and the blankets still covering all her glorious goods.
I stand at the threshold of my bedroom door, just taking in the view that is a passed-out Birdie. I’ll be honest, when I imagined Birdie in my bed, this situation was not a part of those dirty fantasies. Her naked? Fuck yes. But high out of her mind and rambling about fucking pizza parties and wild sex? Nope.
I think it’s safe to say she’s going to be pissed tomorrow when she finds out the shenanigans she took part in.
Probably pissed and embarrassed and neither one of them makes me feel good.
Now irritated with the situation Howie’s dickhead nephew put her in, I pull my cell out of my pocket again and shoot him a quick message.
Me: I swear to God, I’m going to kill Larry. The bastard and his buddy Carl gave Birdie a pot brownie, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t tell her it was a fucking pot brownie.
Surprisingly, he responds in record time for it being past three in the morning.
Howie: What the fuck? Are you sure?
Me: So sure that you’re probably going to have to find a way to hide Larry’s body once I kill him.
Howie: Fuck. Is she okay?
Me: Yeah, I brought her back to my place, and now she’s sleeping it off.
Howie: Shit. Is there anything I can do?
Me: Keep this between us, because I’m sure she doesn’t want anyone finding out about it, and finally kick Larry out of your fucking house.
Howie: Damn, you’re really pissed about this, aren’t you?
Me: Are you kidding me? If Birdie weren’t here, I’d be back at your house already.
Howie: I’ve never seen you get this mad about anything.
Me: Yeah, well, I guess I draw a hard line at getting someone high without their permission.