Metamorphosis Read Free Page A

she had just had a wet dream about… who was it that
time… I can’t remember someone that you called ‘Daddy’ in bed or some shit.”
    “Shut the fuck up.” She joked. “We
really are little book whores, aren’t we? Not just in the number of books that
we read, but in how many of the guys we are in love with, the things that we
dream about doing with them…”
    “Yeah, how sad is that? If it
wasn’t for that vibrator you bought me last year, I would probably have carpal
tunnel by this point,” I admitted. I must be the most sexually frustrated
virgin on the planet because my virtue was still intact only because my parents
didn’t let me out of their sight long enough to even meet anyone, much less
like someone enough to want to have sex with them. I wasn’t interested in just
handing it out on a silver platter in a bathroom stall at one of my recitals or
better yet, at church camp. I was pretty sure the man upstairs wouldn’t approve
of the fact that I was using him as an excuse to escape my parents and whore
myself out. I felt bad enough that it was the only place I had ever kissed a
guy. I had felt so guilty then that
I had almost expected to be struck by lightning or something, but I made it
through the rest of the week unscathed.
    “You’re telling me! It’s been over
three months since I stopped seeing Garrett. All the extra free time has
allowed me to read myself into sexual frustration as well,” she complained. “We
really need to get out and have some fun. I can’t wait to corrupt you… and it
all begins tomorrow.”
    “I don’t think I’m going to need
your help in corrupting, I’ve been looking forward to this too much. I may need
help in controlling my hormones once they’re released from their cage.” I
waggled my eyebrows at her. “Now back to these different categories of book
boyfriends. We need to make sure we consider all potential candidates. We
forgot to mention the hot professors looking for reasons to tutor us in
private, or the famous musicians that are going to mysteriously pop into our
lives and beg us to go on tour with them because we are their muse. Ooh, better
yet, maybe we can snag us an ultimate,” I said in my faux serious voice.
    “An ultimate?” Evie interrupted.
    “Yeah, the ultimates …
you know, the devastatingly handsome, possessive billionaire moguls that can’t
live without us and are dying to shower us with wealth and satisfy our deep,
dark sexual desires,” I explained.
    “Okay, I lied. Even though I said
there’s no guy out of your league, I’m not sure we are quite ready for ‘the ultimates .’ Jesus Christ, Scarlett, you go from telling me
you are scared to talk to a college boy to telling me you want to find an older
man that’s into bondage and whips. I think we may need to work our way there so
you feel a little more comfortable with yourself and your body before we head
down that road. Plus, I’m not sure if there’s a local Billionaire BDSM club
that we can just waltz in and make our selection,” she joked.
    I started laughing uncontrollably
at her last comment as I envisioned the two of us walking up to an office
building trying to find our version of an ultimate. She was right, I needed to
take baby steps before I found myself blindfolded and restrained to a cross on
a wall trying to remember my safe word, while anticipating the crack of a whip
across my skin.
    “But Ana was a virgin…” I tried to
argue, but couldn’t even get the thought out without cracking up all over
again. We both laughed until tears streamed down our faces. Finally after
several minutes, we regained our composure and Evie said she had a plan.
    “This is what we are going to do.
Tomorrow we are going to recreate your image with a new hairstyle, a little bit
of makeup, and new clothes ~ going to get you all sexified .
Then tomorrow night we are going to go with my cousin to that party by her
school. But before we go, we are going to pick one of the