Read SHIVER: 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror for Free Online Page A

sexier than ever.
    I take in the sight of my stiletto-ed feet on his shoulder and I’m glad I decided to walk Lucie to school this morning in heels. There’s something seriously hot about lace panties and stilettos. This image wouldn’t be nearly as nice if I’d worn my Skechers today.
    He closes his eyes before he runs his panty-covered wrist under his nose and inhales. I think he just smelled my underwear. Is that creepy or sexy? I decide on sexy because creepy would be a mood killer, and I’m not letting anything ruin this moment for me. Not even that Winnie-the-Pooh stuffed toy on the couch. I swear that thing is staring at me.
    I don’t have time to worry about Winnie because the man who just tied my legs together gives me a cocky grin. Without breaking his stare, he slowly unwinds the panties from his wrist. When he pulls his hand free, he places the lace between his teeth to keep my ankles tightly together. Then he unbuttons his pants.
    ***
    “ Go-od morn-ing ,” I heard, in a woman’s singsong voice.
    “I hate you,” I muttered, as I leaned over and grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand. I hurried to swipe my finger across the snooze button before the annoying troll could say another word. What a rude awakening.
    I set my phone back on the nightstand, closed my eyes, and snuggled closer into my pillow. I wanted that dream back. I wanted to see him again. I had nine more minutes to finally see what he had in his pants. We could get a lot done in nine minutes.
    I didn’t usually snooze on Friday mornings. Don’t get me wrong. I was a devoted snoozer. On Mondays through Thursdays I hit snooze at least three times before I dragged myself out of bed to get Lucie ready for school. I then walked her there in the same yoga pants and t-shirt I slept in the night before, my face greasy with night cream, and my hair looking like it hadn’t seen a comb since Prince was referred to by a symbol. And I was totally okay being a mess – on Mondays through Thursdays.
    Today was Friday. Fridays were different. Fridays were the days Ben Ogea walked his daughter to school. Ben Ogea was the reason I didn’t snooze on Fridays. He was also the reason I’d woken up with my panties in a twist this morning.
    Oh shit . I sat up in bed when I remembered. This wasn’t an ordinary Friday. It was Halloween. I needed extra time to get Lucie into her Frozen costume and braid her hair like a princess. There was no chance of finishing that dream this morning.
    I sighed and reached into the drawer of my nightstand for my bullet. Thanks to a brand new set of batteries in my boy-toy, I was ready to start my day in approximately twenty seconds.
    ***
    7:32 A.M.
    I had spent the last five nights watching blog tutorials and playing with Lucie’s American Girl doll trying to master the princess crown braid. I wanted to surprise her with my newfound hair skills, and maybe earn the Best Mom of the Week award. Turned out this wasn’t my week. (Last week wasn’t either.)
    After a few failed attempts and tangles, we ran out of time. Lucie had to settle for an ordinary French braid pulled across her shoulder. Sometimes, when I thought too much about it, I felt like Lucie had to settle for a lot.
    I realized that most of the girls in Lucie’s class would be dressed as Elsa from Frozen . I’d tried to talk her out of the costume. I’d tried to get her to choose something more unique. One thing I should note about my six-year-old is that she didn’t mind being like everyone else. Another thing I should note is that she didn’t mind being different either, when she wanted to be. She hadn’t yet learned to care what other people thought, and that made me feel like I’d gotten at least one thing right with her. Me, I was still trying to un learn this – a revelation that grew clearer to me every day.
    There was a competition that took place every morning outside Lucie’s elementary school by a group of moms I’d dubbed The Fucker Mothers.