The Virgin Sex Queen by Angela Verdenius Read Free Book Online Page A

call Mike out
on things he does that annoy her.”
    Perching on one
of the stools, Sophie leaned her folded arms on the counter. “How’d
you end up in the police, Alan? It’s not something I thought you’d
do.”
    “What did you
think I’d do?” He spooned Milo into the cups. “Be a fireman?”
    “Gigolo.”
    “Seriously?
I’m…” He placed one hand on his chest. “Touched.”
    “Nothing new
there.”
    “True. A lot of
chicks have touched-”
    “Please.”
Sophie held up one hand. “I can see an information overload
coming.”
    Going by the
little smile that hovered at the corners of her mouth and the
amusement in her eyes, she was anything but embarrassed.
    Alan grinned at
her. “Sure? You could use some of my sexual prowess adventures in
your books.”
    “I’m sure your
adventures would be nothing new.”
    “How can you
know that?”
    Picking up the
sugar bowl, she spooned a teaspoon of sugar into her cup before
indicating his cup with the spoon. When he shook his head, she
said, “Tough boy.” Dropping the teaspoon into her cup, she refolded
her arms. “Most men seem to have an exaggerated idea of their
sexual prowess.”
    “Hey, mine is
no exaggeration.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Man, some of
your boyfriends must have severely fallen down the pole of
expectation.” He poured boiling water into the cups.
    “You could say
that.”
    He glanced up to see her gazing unseeingly at the cups. Man,
she must have had some disappointments. He wondered how many
boyfriends she’d had and figured she must have dated quite a few to
gain the sexual experience to write what she did. Now that required
some probing…of the intellectual kind. Probing of the other kind,
well - beneath lowered lashes, he cast a quick glance at her
generous bosoms - that produced all kinds of intriguing thoughts.
    Retrieving the
milk from the ‘fridge, he topped up the cups. “So, your writing.
This girly porn.”
    “It’s not girly
porn.”
    “Right.” He
grinned at her.
    In return, she
pointed the spoon warningly at him before laying it down on the
counter.
    “Your intellectual novels,” he continued. “What made you write
them?”
    “I’ve always
liked writing.”
    “Sure. I
remember the stories you’d write for English classes. You always
got A’s for them. But why this sex stuff?”
    “Sex stuff,”
she repeated. “It’s called erotic romance. And I don’t just write
erotic, you know. I do write mainstream romance as well.”
    Leaning on the bench, he contemplated her. “But it’s
the really sexy
stuff that made you a success.”
    She took a deep
breath. “Success is getting a book published. Success is getting
one bought by a reader. Success is having a reader like your book
enough to let you know.”
    “Success,” he
said quietly, “is being able to give up your job and write for a
living.”
    “Success,” she
returned, “is made from baby steps first. Success is measured by
the personal goals you set. Not everyone who is a successful writer
can give up their day job.”
    Studying her,
Alan thought about her words. It kind of made sense. Sophie was
watching him earnestly, her hands wrapped around the cup of Milo. A
stray strand of hair had escaped her braid to tickle along her
cheek.
    “You’re
successful,” she said. “You chose a career and went with it.”
    “So what if I’d
been a trolley boy?”
    “So what if you
wanted to be a trolley boy, got a job doing it and was happy?” she
countered. “You’d be a success in your chosen career.”
    “Huh.” He’d
never thought of it that way.
    “Don’t you
consider yourself a success?” she asked curiously.
    “Never thought
of it like that.” He took a sip of Milo. “I just wanted to be a
cop, applied, got in, trained, and here I am.”
    “There you go.”
She smiled.
    “So, Soph, when
did you complete your motivational speech course?”
    She stared
blankly at him for a minute before reaching out and lightly
slapping his hand. “You