Killer Queen: A Painted Faces Novel by L.H. Cosway Read Free Book Online Page B

breasts each night. I couldn't think of anything more relaxing.”
    I probably should have kept my big mouth shut. I had
a gift for speaking inappropriately, but thankfully, as Phil often told me, I
had enough charisma to charm my way out of a maximum-security prison. Fred spat
the mouthful of wine she’d just taken right out onto the table. It was both
hilarious and awkward in equal measures. I couldn’t help but laugh, and so did
Nora. The fact that even uptight Nora could find humour in what I’d just said
made me feel a little better.
    Her voice was sweet when she said, “I can't believe
you just said that about Fred's boobs. You're terrible.”
    “Yeah, just terrible ,” Fred put in, her
pretty eyes narrowed to slits and pursing her lips.
    “I wish I had ones as big as yours, Fred. Mine are
like little fried eggs,” Nora went on, clearly angling for a compliment. And I
liked to think I was an accommodating (though often lewd) gentleman, so I told
her, “I happen to admire all shapes and sizes.”
    Fred immediately put me in my place when she said,
“What, even square and rectangular ones? You are a true connoisseur, my
friend.”
    She was passive-aggressive and cynical, but
strangely, I enjoyed her barbs. And unlike Nora, I could tell that once I freed
her from her uptight prison, she would be wild in the way I adored women to be
wild. I laughed and gave as good as I got. “Triangles, too. Oh, and octagons.
I'm an equal opportunist for breasts.”
    She gave me a reluctant smile, shook her head, and
focused her attention back on her food. Once we’d finished eating, Nora swiftly
left for her shift at work, and I couldn’t deny that I was pleased by her
departure. It gave me the perfect opportunity to work on Fred. I was
determined, although it was clear that she wanted nothing more than for me to
leave. When I began helping her clean up, she said firmly, “You can go now, you
know. I've got this.”
    I couldn’t seem to tell if she really didn’t want
company or if my presence made her anxious. I got the distinct impression that
she was unused to men being as forward as I was being with her. Which was a
damn shame. This girl was pure femininity and beauty, and she deserved to be
told as much on a daily basis.
    “I'd like to stay for a while, if that's okay with
you?” I said to her softly.
    My tone seemed to work in loosening up her resolve
as she shrugged and quipped, “Sure, if you want. But be warned, I usually go to
bed pretty early, so there'll be no late-night shenanigans, if that's what
you're after.”
    Oh, she had no fucking clue the kind of shenanigans
I was after. I think she might have blushed right down to her toes if I’d told
her. And I wouldn’t have minded witnessing that. I especially loved it when
women got all flushed during sex.
    I put my hand to my chest, feigning offence. “Ah,
you wound me, beautiful lady. I had been hoping to romance you. Late-night
shenanigans are not my forte.”
    She eyed me like she was onto my game and it wasn’t
working on her. She was a tough cookie, this Fred. As we tidied up, I found my
eyes trailing over her whenever she wasn’t looking. She struck me as one of
those women who had absolutely no clue how appealing they were, and because
she’d probably gone out with a few dipshits over the years, she’d built up a
wall of defence.
    In my opinion, the vast majority of men in this
world were clueless, lazy arseholes. I’d known so many who didn’t appreciate
the beautiful women they had by their sides. In fact, it could be said that I
was one of them on occasion. But I guessed I was more in touch with these
things than the average bloke because I straddled a line. As Vivica Blue, I tried
to plunge myself into the role of a female, trained myself to embody her
spirit.
    Once the dishes were all done, Fred went to sit on
the couch in front of the television, and, like the smitten kitten that I was,
I followed her. We sat in silence, her eyes trained