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Milo was convinced life would be easier if he were a woman. When he woke up one morning to find his wish granted, he couldn't believe his good luck. As "Silly Millie," she is going to get all the sex she can with her gorgeous new body, whether it's from the hunky cop who wants to give her a parking ticket, the handsome bartender, or even her own roommate! Because Millie is a "Body-Swap Bimbo!"
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
She gave it a minute, then put her drink down and headed towards the hall, as if she were going to visit the bathroom. Just before she could get there, however, she found herself intercepted by Poppy.
"Hey, Millie!" She smiled, clearly in her element. "I want you to meet some of the girls. This is Jessica, and Kaylee, and Dawn."
The three young women nodded at her, their smiles curiously friendly. And with just a hint of the predatory gleam which Carla had shown.
"Nice to meet you," she said in a rush. "I'll be right back," she added, bouncing a bit on her toes. "But my bladder is about to explode, okay? I don't want to start doing the potty dance like a little kid."
The girls laughed and let her go. Hoping that her intent wasn't written in great big letters on her face, Millie turned into the hallway. Just as she reached the door on the left, it opened a crack, and Danny looked out. With a glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, she slipped inside.
"Um. Hi," the tall young man said. "You know, I don't really-"
And then Millie was all over him, the dam of her self-control bursting under the onslaught of desire which she had been trying to hold in check all day. One arm wrapped around his waist, her hand feeling for his rear. The other reached up and tugged his mouth down.
Oh! His mouth was sweet. Sweet, tender, and oh so warm on her burning lips. Horny beyond belief, she pulled the young bartender to her, her breasts flattening against his strong young chest.
"I'm not waiting," she panted, when she finally tore her lips away. "I've been wanting to get laid all day, and Danny, you just drew the lucky number."
"I did? What? Wait!" he said, his voice sliding upwards into panic as she fumbled at his belt and the button of his slacks. "I don't even know you!"
"Well, if we took the time to get to know each other," Millie said in what she thought was a reasonable tone, "we wouldn't have time to do anything else before your break was over. So what's it going to be? Sit here and talk? Or have sex now, and then meet up sometime tomorrow?"
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
By Alana Church
Artwork by Moira Nelligar
Copyright 2020 Alana Church
~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~
“You, my friend, are absolutely full of shit.”
Milo tried to look down his nose at his roommate, but the effect was ruined by the way he was weaving on his feet. “No, really, Poppy. I’m serious!”
“I’m sure you are.” Her lips quirked. “Which just means that you are seriously full of shit. You can’t stand there and claim that life is actually easier for women in this country. Sorry. That dog won’t hunt.”
“The dog won’t what?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“No.” Lilah Eldridge, one of their co-workers, walked up, a smile on her pleasant face. “What are you guys talking about?”
Poppy smirked. “Milo was just trying to give me the benefit of his infinite wisdom. About how women in this country have it so easy. I mean, it’s obvious that we control everything, isn’t it? Look at us! We’ve got over a quarter of the senators, over a fifth in the House of Representatives, and one of us almost got elected president once! Case closed!”
“I wasn’t talking about politics, Poppy. I was talking about dating and shit.” He waved his hand expressively, nearly spilling his drink. Around him in the beer garden, other people from Underhill and Associates Financial were unwinding at the end-of-quarter party, which was somewhat of a company tradition. “Take me.”
“No thanks,” the small, dark-haired woman said, and Lilah laughed.
“Take me,” he repeated and took a drink of his beer. “Say I’m looking to…well…you know. Score. First I have to find someone who wants to go out with me. And then I have to take her out, get to know her. Dinner. Movies. Dancing. Long walks in the park.” He shuddered. “Conversations about my feelings. Meeting her family.
“Then maybe, just maybe, after a month or so, I might get lucky. Maybe.
“But a woman? Ha. All they have to do is just hint that they’re interested, and there’s a line of men three-deep.”
Poppy’s frown deepened into a scowl. “You know what, Milo? Sometimes you’re an okay guy. But a lot of the time, you’re a complete pig.”
“Oink,” Lilah added.
“Listen.” Milo spread his hands and tried to smile disarmingly. From the dubious expression on Poppy’s face, it didn’t seem like he was succeeding. “I’m not saying it’s right. I’m just saying it’s true.” He gestured towards the tiny stage, where the corporate vice-president in charge of rah-rah speeches had just given a brain-numbing, bullshit spiel about how they were the greatest financial firm in Kentucky, thanks to hard work, dedication, team work, and blah blah blah blah blah, until Milo felt like drilling a hole in his head to stop the pain. “If both of us get up there, Poppy, and announce that we’re both looking to get laid, which one of us do you think is going to go home with someone?”
The dark-haired woman shook her head wearily. “And that’s because I’m a woman? And not because of something else? Like the fact that you’re about as mature as a keg-stand at a frat party?”
“And you just moved out of your parents’ place, like, five months ago.” Lilah, this time.
“You wear Axe body spray.”
“You let your sunglasses dangle off the back of your head like a total douche.”
“You put the wrong soap in the dishwasher and flooded the break room.”
“You’re always late to work. And don’t think that people don’t notice how often you leave the office early, too.”
“You never take out the garbage. And you never put your beer bottles in the recycling bin.”
“You called your boss ‘Broseph’ on a conference call last week.”
“All right, all right.” Milo held up his hands, unable to keep up with the double-barreled assault. “So what should I do?”
“Get a personality transplant,” Poppy muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. For a second, Milo tensed angrily. Then he forced himself to relax. He couldn’t afford to piss the dark-haired Latina off. It was sheer good luck that her previous roommate had moved in with her boyfriend at the same time as Milo’s parents were telling him, in no uncertain terms, that his days of sponging off them and living rent-free in the basement were over. But even he could tell that his welcome as her roommate was wearing thin.
He drew in his breath to make a witty retort, though he wasn’t sure exactly what it was going to be, when Poppy’s eyes went round, staring over his shoulder. “Holy hell,” she breathed. “Whose plus-one is that?”
Milo turned around, at once aggravated and relieved that he was no longer the center of attention.
“Oh, you haven’t met Gene?” Lilah said. “Oh, that’s right. You weren’t at the summer picnic, were you?” She snickered evilly. “Sorry, Poppy. He’s taken.”
“By who?” The small woman glared around. “I’ll kill her. I’ll scratch her eyes out. I’ll make a bunch of really mean ‘your momma’ jokes until she starts to cry! Who’s he taken by?”
Personally, Milo couldn’t see what all of the fuss was about. But then, he wasn’t attracted to dudes. The man that Poppy and Lilah were drooling over wasn’t anything special, as far as he could tell. A little taller than he was, and cut pretty well. But it wasn’t like he was totally ripped or anything. His hair was black and wavy, and his full lips were set in a teasing smirk as he laughed at something someone said.
Lilah was giggling so hard that tears were forming at the corners of her eyes. “By Kevin,” she choked out, and bent over, her hands on her knees.
“Kevin?”
“The Buttercream Dream himself.”
“Oh.” Poppy took a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly. “So he’s gay?”
“No. Neil Patrick Harris is gay. Luke Evans is gay. Gene… Let me put it this way. If you took every single person on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, and then smushed them all down so they would fit in one body, they still wouldn’t be as gay as Gene is. We’re talking ultra-mecha-insano-gay.”
The object of their conversation spotted them, and came mincing over, his smile flashing like a thousand-watt bulb. “Lilah! How absolutely delicious to see you again!” He puckered his lips and leaned forward, though his mouth didn’t even come close to her cheek. “When are you going to come to my salon and let me do something to that rat’s nest you call a hair-do? More like a hair-don’t, am I right?
“And why haven’t you introduced me to your friends? This man is positively glowing with negative energy. It gives him quite the ferocious look.” Gene simpered at Milo. “Don’t worry, honeybuns. Even if you were my type, and you’re not, I’m giving monogamy the old college try. It’s never worked before, but there’s a first time for everything, right?”
“Milo Nesbitt,” he said, offering a hand.
To his surprise, the handshake he received was firm, not the limp, dead-fish grip he was afraid of. “Charmed. And your friends?”
“Poppy Maldonado. And I think you know Lilah.”
“Calling me your friend is a little bit of a stretch, Milo,” Poppy said, though her eyes were fixed on Milo. “We’re roommates, is all.”
“And what were you talking about when I came over? It seemed really very intense.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Poppy scoffed, and Lilah made a noise of agreement. “Milo just has his head stuck up his ass when it comes to women and sex.”
“Ew.” Gene flinched, one hand coming up as if to wave away the terrible vision. “Please. I don’t want to hear about it. Oh, thank the gods,” he added. “Kevin, darling, please rescue me. These horrible people were about to abuse me by talking about the horrors of heterosexual sex!”
“Serves you right, you disgusting Indian pervert.” In defiance of his own words, Kevin Lewis gave his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek.
Milo shuddered, hoping his revulsion was hidden. He felt the same way about two guys being together, apparently, as Gene did about a man and a woman. Not that he knew, or wanted to know, about what Gene and Kevin got up to in the bedroom. But the thought of two dudes going at it made him more than a little bit queasy in the pit of his stomach.
Or maybe that was the free booze. Who knew?
“Listen,” he said, trying to reassert control of the conversation. “All I’m saying is this. If a woman wants to get laid, she can. And if a dude wants to get laid, he has to freaking work for it.” He reached out, plucking a drink off a tray carried by a passing server, who glared at him. “All I wish is that for one week I could be a woman. A good-looking one, naturally. And I could prove all of you guys wrong.”
The four people stared at him.
“Pig,” Poppy declared.
“Pig,” Lilah agreed.
“Pig,” Kevin added, his broad shoulders moving in a shrug.
All heads swiveled to Gene. But instead of joining the chorus of condemnation, the dark-skinned man merely stared at him, a tiny smile playing around the corners of his full, sensual mouth. “A week? That’s all you’d want?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to be an ugly chick,” Milo said, and Lilah snorted in disgust. “But otherwise, yeah. A week should do it.”
Gene’s smile widened. “And you wouldn’t have a problem with some big, manly stud having his evil way with your small, feminine body?”
“Well, I’d be a chick then, wouldn’t I?” Milo said with what he thought was unassailable logic. “So why would I? Unless I was a lesbian.” He took a drink, letting that thought swirl around in his slightly-sloshed brain. “Of course, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a girl and like girls.”
“As long as you’re dreaming, Milo, maybe you should be bisexual,” Poppy sniped. “Then you can screw your way through the entire fucking world and no one would say a damn thing about it.”
Turning on her heel, she stormed off. Milo stared after her, his jaw hanging. When he turned back, it was to see two other people glaring at him, while Gene merely blinked innocently. “What did I say?”
Lilah bestowed a look on him that seemed to convey her disgust for mankind in general, and himself in particular. “Don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“Jesus, Milo.” The small woman thumped him on the side of his head with the heel of her hand. “How long have you been living with her? Three months? Four?”