The Artist & The Q.B.

Ch. 6

After lunch everyone traveled back to Truex's house and started drinking...a lot.

"Briar Viella Roberts, get your ass in here!" Mya yells, drunkenly as I switch the music from Justin Bieber to a real man, Chris Stapleton, Tennessee Whiskey.

    My choice of course instantly pisses her off as she runs after me wanting the remote. Knowing how fast she is I see Truex laying on the couch watching some sports channel and run up to him lifting the front of his lounge pants, I shove the remote in.

"What the hell?" He asks, confused as I drop the elastic waistband down.

"Keep it there." I demand.

"Oh, come on! Now, no one's gonna want to touch that." Mya, whines.

I nod, in agreement. Rubbing my hands on my legs wishing I had put leggings on instead of pajama shorts. "He definitely doesn't have any panties on." I tell her, shocked.

"Gross!" She gags.

"I know! Who doesn't wear-"

"Don't say, panties. I don't wear, panties." He corrects.

"Yeah, that much we've established." I respond, eyes wide.

"Give it to me! I'll lick it clean!" Drunk Becca, offers. We gasp in shock, then Mya and I fall to the floor laughing. "I love her." I say, gasping for breath.

Wanting to see if she'd really would do it, I ask for the remote, "Give it." I say, mischievously. Sitting up from my position on the floor next to Truex on the couch.

"Get it yourself." He replies, moving it lower in his pants. My eyes go wide, as he crosses his arms and continues to watch tv.

"I'm not fishing a remote out of your pants." I tell him, as if its the most obvious thing in the world.

"You put it there." He reminds me.

"And you shoved it further down, to your...Uhh, your worm." I reply, chuckling.

"Worm? Really." He smirks, pushing it even lower.

I throw up my hands. "You're crazy if you think I'd do that." I tell him, pointing at his crotch.

Mya stands and stomps her feet, "Its your fault! You get it! Its now on repeat! You moron!"

I hold up my hands to both of them, truly offended. "Okay, I really don't like how you two are trying to make me take responsibility for my own actions." I say, about to call Becca to get it out. I look over to see her passed out, with her face on the table. She is going to hate herself tomorrow. "Wake Becca up." I call out to anyone that would listen.

"No. You get it." He states, pointedly.

"Just do it. Its like a bandaid. Make it quick." Mya advises, patting my back and walking away.

"You're gonna pay for this." I tell him ominously. "I'm gonna put something you want down my pants and make you get it." I threaten, sounding exactly like a two year old.

"You already have something in your pants I want, but if you want to put something of mine down there. I'm all for that." He, states suggestively. I narrow my eyes at him, then distastefully at his area. 

"Your brother is talking dirty to me." I yell to Mya, telling on him.

"Don't care." She sings.

"Mya, get over here and help." I order.

"I'm not helping you with that." She replies, firmly.

"No, I mean help me get him up!" I clarify.

"What!" She screams. Realizing my phrasing I can't stop laughing.