Have you ever wondered what life was like for a penis and vagina?
What they thought as you go about your day to day life with them tucked safely away in your pants?
Well now’s your chance to find out exactly what your naughty bits are really thinking.
This hilarious romantic tale will reveal the deepest darkest thoughts of the most intimate parts of the human body. The ups and downs, the ins and outs, the highs and lows.
Having two brains is not just a myth, as you will discover in this journey of love, laughter, pleasure and pain.
Strap on your seatbelts because you are in for a hard, fast and naughty ride.
*Please note: This is a full length novel*
Mmm, what a peaceful morning.
I need this quiet moment after such a restless night, well … many restless nights lately. I feel a shift in her, something is changing and we know how we feel about change; we don’t like it! So to say I’m a little nervous, is an understatement. That’s it, a nice long stretch to wake the body up hun; let’s conquer the world today shall we? Let’s put the past few weeks behind us and start fresh, wait, what … no, not again! I am still raw from the three times last night! “Buzzzzzzzz…….”
You have got to be kidding me! Its Friday, can’t you just wait until we hit the bar later tonight with Zali and Mel? You know they help you make better choices with which junk you invite back here. We could get a good one tonight, no need to ruin me for that possibility! This is not the answer to all our problems … ah … hang on … ah … oh … what the hell. She won’t listen anyway. I might as well help to hurry this up, ride the wave and get this over and done with so we can get on with our day.
Okay … there we go … that’s the right place, just relax and I’ll get us there. That’s right; find your sexy happy place … oh yeah think of him, think Mr Uptight in a suit that dares to walk past us all snobby and smelling so freaking good every morning. Mmmm … oh yeah, if we get him alone we will start with his tie, dragging it from his neck nice and slowly and … ah … that’s it, that’s it, here it comes, let the tidal wave begin. Ahhhhhh … oh, oh, ohhhhh …. That’s what she needed.
We never do get past that damn tie!
Now to meet some suits in real life. I know exactly what she will wear to the office today; her uplifting outfit of that tight navy skirt, a little short for her liking but one that has a lot of eyes turning her way apparently. And she will match it with the white sleeveless silk shirt that shows off all her cleavage, the one Zali made her buy to try and catch the eye of Mr Uptight.
Ahh … Mr Uptight. He gives us real good feelings, but, he also makes a feel like crap on an almost daily basis too by acting as if we don’t exist! We have tried to ignore how handsome he is, how good he smells, how the hormones his body releases affects us the minute we are within a mile radius of him and how incredibly charming he can be to everything with a vagina, but us. On those days, when she witnesses him being so nice to everyone, then turns and gives her the cold shoulder, we don’t like the hormones that produces in us. We call them the Vodka days, cause that’s what we need the minute we get home, back to the non-judgemental, non-moody male, non-bias for some unknown god forsaken reason, cocoon of our apartment.
As much as I would love to get to know Mr Uptight’s junk intimately, he’s just not worth chasing if it results in a roller coaster ride of emotions, so, I will keep my pheromones in check and not spit them his way. What’s his freaking problem anyway? I know my girl is all kinds of hot, everyone tells her so, male and female, which she just brushes off shyly, but doesn’t he see what others see? We were nice and friendly to him when we first discovered his handsome aura in our work building, but let that die off after his continual coldness towards us. I know his not gay because he’s junk sends out bloody testosterone to almost everything that wreaks oestrogen. So what does he think is so wrong with us?
Fuck him. We don’t care; we can give a cold shoulder just as good as he can. And he’s not our ‘Mr Long Term Guy’ anyway. We want someone warm, someone who loves all of our faults, and someone who will support and encourage all of our dreams no matter how crazy they are. We want someone who will laugh with us and gently wipe away any tears. We want kindness and understanding and love. We want deep, soul reaching, heartbeat skipping, and constant wet panties kind of love. We know it’s out there … we are just looking in all the wrong places.
Okay, time to get our head out of the man zone and into work mode, because we pay our own bills, no man, toy boy or sugar daddy needs to take care of us. So to do that, we really need to haul our arse to work right now instead of looking in the bloody mirror. Let’s go earn some more dollars to spend on pretty shoes, oh yeah, like those red ones we couldn’t stop looking at last week. Oh, they gave us nice feelings.
****************
The smell of power can be intoxicating and exhilarating, but, it can also swallow you up and spit you out if you let your feet lift off the ground. That’s why we like our job. It’s the right balance of power, where we achieve great pride when a project we have been working on is accepted or praised, yet, not being the head honcho, means we don’t get our arse caned when it goes wrong or even fired by someone with more power than us. We are happy to stay on the sidelines.
‘Creative Square’ is our second home, not exactly the cosy beach side cottage we dream about, with an open fire place, a fur rug in front of it and some wine and some hanky panky on the fur rug, in front of that fire place, after consuming said wine, but, it’s our place of work and we sometimes feel as if we live here more than our one bedroom, barely room to swing a cat, apartment at the Docklands. Apparently it has some of the best views of this beautiful city Melbourne and is situated on South bank along the Yarra river, so for a business location, it couldn’t get any better than this.
Our building is tall, like really tall. If we have a busy week and don’t get to our Pilates classes as much as we would like, we take the stairs, much to my dismay. I mean seriously, chaffing can be a bitch on a hot day and that is not the kind of friction I like. Not that our thighs chaff much outside of summer, but just the uncomfortable thought of it makes me want to vomit discharge everywhere.
Our building holds many businesses, everything from IT companies to top accounting firms, along with all sorts of digital and media services. And we’re not the only advertising company here. Our building also houses ‘100 Design’, an innovative and award winning ad company who offers salaries somewhere in the southern hemisphere. But we don’t often compete for jobs because their CEO and our CEO are the best of mates and often throw jobs each other’s way. We are more of a boutique style company, so we may offer our larger jobs to them and they offer smaller ones to us. We have heard whispers that the same man owns both companies to try and cover all corners of the market, but we are yet to conform that at the great and sacred meeting place. The Water Cooler.
There has always been whispers of a merge but we pray it doesn’t happen, because Mr Uptight is one of their top Account Executives so we would bump into him much more than we do, like today, in the lobby, of our building. She hasn’t spotted him yet, but I can smell him and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the reaction I have to that one particular male spices. Oh, there she goes, she has spotted him and come to a stop, like always, as much as she doesn’t want to. It’s just an automated reaction we would need a scientist to explain. Stupid chemicals and stupid male spices that make our stupid brain momentarily freeze.
That’s it, keep walking and don’t look his way. Yep, look left, oh but not towards Mr Garlic breath first thing in the morning, we don’t want to encourage him any more than he encourages himself. Good, let’s pretend we didn’t see him. Yep, looking down is safer and OW! Knocked to the floor on our arse was not the plan and freaking, freaking, freaking that hurts no matter how much cushioning you have back in your trunk. I can feel the impact all the way through my bones and straight to my centre and that place doesn’t like that sort of impact damn it.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” a deep, husky man voice tells us. And holy shit, there goes all of our brain cells on vacation for God knows how long, because that voice belongs to the one, the only, Mr Uptight. He reaches a hand down to help us up from the floor gracefully. And when his hand makes contact with ours, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh ….. what was I thinking again? Ha, what just happened? Oh yeah, knocked on ground, being helped up from said ground, by him! His grip is solid but not over bearing and he places his other hand on our shoulder to steady us as we stand. And, and ……
Oh dear God, we are standing, right in front of him, with our mouth opened, with no words coming out, looking like a fool, a mute, fool! Oh come on girl, don’t give him even more reason not to talk to us. Give him the evil eye and storm off. Pleaseeeee. Let’s not stare into his beautiful warm whisky brown eyes, or let our eyes run over his chiselled jaw and plump, deep pink, oh so kissable lips, or stare at his dark brown hair that’s just a bit too long, almost hanging over one eye, just about needing a haircut, or take an obvious deep breath in to smell that sexy as fuck aftershave he always wears. Oops, too late.
He knows, he knows we just sniffed him! Yep, couldn’t get any more embarrassing than this. Fix this, talk woman, you can do it! Even if you’re not wearing your Nike’s.
“It’s okay, I had my head down for a moment and didn’t see you there. I’m sorry also.”
What the? Are you kidding me girl? We were supposed to stomp away, giving him the cold shoulder for once and you go and tell him sorry? It wasn’t his arse that hit the dirty, full of feet germs, but somehow still shiny and clean looking, tiles of this lobby. We will be the ones with the black and blue battle scars on our butt, so why are we apologising?
“Are you going to be okay if I let go?”
Who does he think he is, Hercules, the only man who can help a woman to stand? No buddy, we are woman, we can stand on our own, hear us roar and all that shit. That’s right, shrug out of his hold. Show him we have two capable feet, well, while we are in a standing position anyway, not the same story when we dance after too many cocktails. Oh yeah, we are going to need some of those tonight to stop the pain in our arse, literally.
“I’ll be quite fine, thank you.”
Yeah, we are walking away! You go girl, you show him who can be cold. You can now call us Ice Queen, we will not fall under your spell of muscled arms and sexy as fuck aftershave again!
“Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that baby.”
What? Who said that? Stop, turn around, go back. Pretend to have dropped something from your purse, I need to know who said that. I hear a contentious snicker and can guess exactly where that comment came from. Him. Mr Uptight, well, to be more exact, Mr Uptight’s junk, who is also good at ignoring us. I will not comment, I will not comment, I will not comment. Oh who am I kidding? I am sooooo freaking commenting.
“Oh I will, because a nice smell doesn’t mean a nice guy. My girls too good for him and he knows it.”
“So much for what you know. A smell says a lot about a guy.”
“Oh your right, your smell is saying a lot about you right now. Have a nice day stinky.” I can’t help but giggle to myself as we make our way towards the far end of the lobby and hit the elevator button to go up, as Mr Uptight continues towards the front doors.
“Wait! What? I just got out of the shower only an hour ago. I don’t stink!”
And out the door he goes. See ya stinky junk. Well, not really. That was kind of a lie, well, not kind of, it was an actual lie. I couldn’t exactly tell him that I found his smell as intoxicating as his owner’s aftershave. We have enough trouble trying to ignore that man without extra scents dragging us under his spell. Nope, his junk does not smell good at all. Think garbage bin, think fish market, think rotten eggs. Yep, that’s done the trick. No memories of nice smelling men and their junk left in my brain.
“Hold the door please.” I’m not the only one distracted. Thank God an old gentleman whose tan suit smells like formaldehyde, holds the door open for my girl as she rushes in. We are almost running late so if we had missed this, the stairs would have been our sucky option.
As we go to open the door to Creative Square, a man’s hand grabs the handle before we can and oh yum, he smells good and his looks must match his yumminess because my girl is blushing. Mmm we needed these nice feelings after the epic arse crash only minutes ago.
“Please, let me.” Oh an accent! A charming French accent. A charming oh la la accent. That will brighten up our crappy morning. Yes, good feelings are a blooming. And we are forgetting that arse crash caused by, who? See, forgotten already. We take a step through the doors while Mr Ooo la la follows close behind, so, we add a little extra swing to our hips, just for his benefit of course and … well … just because it feels damn good to do sometimes.
We keep walking past the main reception desk, as we go to open the door to our office, we turn our head around and sure enough, Mr oh la la is still staring at our arse. A little extra wiggle just made the day a whole lot better. Men, so easy to please.
We get straight into work, opening up the accounts we need to work on this morning. Just as she reaches for the phone to check in with a client, it rings, scarring the crap out of us both. Yes, we scare easily. It’s the boss, asking her to join him in the conference room. She sighs, not wanting to leave the groove she just got herself into. But we never keep the boss waiting.
Not because he is a mean tyrant or anything like that. Mr Andre Black is actually a really cool boss. He has a great dry sense of humour and is very understanding when any personal issues arise with his employees and he is the best mentor anyone could possibly have in this field of work. Everything she knows has come from him. But, he is no softy when it comes to the nitty gritty of this job.
He expects everyone to be just as professional and hard working as he is on every project this company handles. And he has been nagging my girl for the past year to move up in her field of work but she keeps repeating herself, she’s happy here and honestly, wouldn’t like the stress of being number one. But it is a good boost to our ego that he holds that much confidence in her abilities.
We gather our tablet and head down to his office. We knock once and wait for him to say his usual ‘come on in’ then open the door to see … Mr Ooo la la giving us a sexy smile. Pay no attention, pay no attention, this is our place of work. Yeah that didn’t work, especially when we notice him so obviously scan up and down our curves. But seriously, we do not, I repeat, we do not mix work and pleasure, so now we know Mr Ooo la la is here for work, his yumminess factor just dropped a few good notches. Damn!
Introductions are made and Mr Ooo la la, a.k.a. Mr Rene Arment, shakes my girls hand a little too long to be considered polite. A bit too charming Frenchy. We take our places at the large table and the boss begins. Apparently Mr Ooo la la is from a large advertising firm in Paris and has a client who wants to bring their product to Australia, starting with Melbourne.
By the end of the meeting no firm deal has been made but our French friend seems very impressed, hopefully more with our company than with my girls company. We say our goodbyes and wish Mr Ooo la la well before we return to our office to catch up on our few lost hours. We make calls to a few clients, tie up some loose ends and receive texts from Mel and Zali throughout the day firming up our plans for the night. I love Fridays. The end of the working week is so near which brings hope, hope for some nice attention from the opposite sex.
Oh my girl is no floozy or easy for that matter, but when we do receive some attention, preferably from a man who actually knows what to do with a vagina, it’s a good boost to our confidence and those good feelings can last a while, well, at least until the ones we want to call us, never do. Which seems to be the last three we were brave enough to invite back to our place. My girl is picky, so her besties tell her. She doesn’t take home nearly as many men as those two do, actually, she never used to take home anyone she wasn’t actually dating for a few good weeks or even months.
That was until Mr Confidence Smasher ruined my girl. Boy did he do a number on her. He was charming, too charming for mine and her besties likings, but my girl was swept away, for months. He praised her constantly and told her how beautiful she was and how wonderful she was at her job. For a girl that struggled for years with low self-esteem mainly due to her shyness, he built her up in a way nothing had been able to do before. She felt more powerful and she even felt sexy for the first time in her life when she was with him.
Until, six months into the relationship, she decided to surprise him after telling him she couldn’t come over for dinner because she had to work late. She had been to a lingerie store during her lunch break that day and brought, not just pretty lingerie, really pretty and kinky lingerie and a black trench coat. After working until seven, she went into the ladies room and changed into her new purchases, excited to see the look on his face when she rocked up to his home where he claimed to be working from.
When she knocked on his door and there was no answer, she decided to use the key he gave her for emergencies and let herself in, thinking he must be too engrossed in work to have heard her knock. The noise’s she heard after a few steps in, should have had her running out of there, but for some reason, she still kept walking towards his bedroom. If I had a voice, I would have screamed at her to not open the door, but as the tears started to stream down her face, she opened that damn door.
And her heart fell to the ground and shattered into a million pieces.
He and his companion, both looked up in surprise to see my girl standing there and to add insult to injury, the extra-large busted young thing straddling his lap said, ‘ops, maybe I should have stuck to Tuesdays.’ Tuesday was the night he said he played poker with his brother every week. But wait, it gets worse. As my girl, on shaky legs, turned around and made her way to the door, he, Mr Confidence Smasher, who we were beginning to think could be our Mr Long Term Guy, ran after her, grabbing her arm to turn her around, saying ‘I’m so sorry, but seriously, your niceness was just getting to be a bit much princess. We can still make this work though.’
Thank God she slapped him hard across the face before leaving and never hearing exactly how he thought they could work it out. Knowing that scum he probably wanted to put her on a roster system with Miss Not Looking Quite Legal. But even though she walked away, the damage was already done. Which lead to many nights with our head buried in a bottle of wine or too many cocktails with Zali and Mel, which also lead to the plan we currently live by. That they all would just seek out guys for pleasure only. Give the male species a good dose of their own medicine, hook them in and let them go when we have had our sexual fill of them.
Well, my girl and I have tried to live by that plan, but our pesky emotions seem to get in the way no matter how much we try to push them down. Pesky feelings and pesky body chemicals, always causing pesky trouble.
So even though we don’t do the one-night-stand thing too often, we do go out and enjoy ourselves with our girls and if a specimen of the male species so happens to turn our head, then we just play along and see how the night turns out. And to be honest, no matter how much of a nympho I would be if she let me, sometimes a long dry spell is better than the feeling of rejection when our plan backfires and the guy is quicker at hitting and quitting than we are. To not be the first one to get up and leave, hurts sometimes.
This is our end of Friday ritual. Shut our computer down; check. Take our little garbage bin to the door of our office for the cleaning staff; check. Duck into the ladies for a quick pee and reapply of our lipstick, ahhhh that feels better; check. Give ourselves a quick pep talk, you are an accomplished woman who is smart and caring and has a lot of love to give the right man who deserves it, and is also great at giving mind blowing, body shattering, raw throat screaming orgasm’s, who will come along when the time is right; check. Okay, we are ready for take-off.
As we hop off the lift and walk towards the exit, we smell his aftershave before she even sights him. And it’s not just Mr Uptight’s sexy as fuck aftershave, it’s also him. He has a unique smell that I swear we would smell from another state if he was to move. And as luck would have it, he is talking to our boss so there is no avoiding the close proximity to his male hotness. Stupid testosterone, causing stupid oestrogen. to think this stupid male is hotness.
We speed our steps in hope of our boss just saying a quick goodbye and not asking us to stop so he can introduce us to Mr Stupid who knocks woman on their arses. As we get close we take one quick glance their way and as quickly as Mr Uptight catches our eye, he turns his head to avoid us, which results in anger rising in us again, which also results in our snappy ‘goodbye’ to our boss. Damn that was a bit rude. I hope Mr Black takes it as if she’s just busy or running late for something other than we’re shitty at him, when its Mr Uptight’s coldness that has our feelings hurt again. Fuck him. It’s Friday night and we will not let him bring us down again.
Well that doesn’t really work, because the moment we arrive at the pub, sit down in the booth next to Zali and wince in pain, memories of how that pain in the arse got there and who was responsible for it, come rushing back to the forefront of our mind.
“Oooooo, someone has been having some naughty fun.”
Zali tells my girl, while Mel starts cheering loudly. I can feel my girl’s deep blush all the way to my core. God I love our besties. My girl goes into the details of why and how she has a pain in the arse. And wait for it, here it comes, the holy and sacred best friend advice we all can’t live without.
“The hold Mr Uptight has over you is ridiculous. You need to screw him out of your brain, then he won’t affect you so much or at all.”
Yep, money can’t buy that shit. Mel has always been my favourite. Such a clever woman.
“I don’t agree with your plan, but, even if I did, he won’t even acknowledge that I exist, how would I possibly get him in a situation where I can screw him out of my brain?”
Good point. Every time our eyes meet he turns away, so it would be impossible to start a conversation that could possibly lead to anything more than just passing in the lobby of our building.
“Men are simple creatures and that is because it is a fact that half their brain resides below their belts. So, you know what office he works in, pay him a surprise visit. Just walk in unannounced, say ‘ops, wrong office’ when he looks up in surprise to see you there, then quietly lock the door, walk over to him silently and slowly, with extra sway in those sexy hips of yours, turn his chair around fall to your knees, giving him the best damn blow job of your life. But just before he comes, pop that mouth of yours off, lift your skirt, push your panties to the side and ride him all the way to O town. Then hop off just as silently, fix your skirt and walk out of there. Then next time you see him in the lobby and he is desperate to get your attention, begging you to pay him another visit in his office, say ‘no thank you, I really do not want a repeat of ‘that’ performance’ and walk away with your head held high.”
Wooohooo!!!! I like that plan, but going by the emotions swirling through my girl, she is way over thinking Mel’s plan.
“But what if its amazing, what if that one moment is epic and life changing, then what? How would that possible help me to get him out of my system?”
Damn. I feel this plan falling apart before we even have a chance to try it out.
“Um, yeah. I think I need a few more drinks before I dole out anymore freaking awesome advice. I’ll get back to you after drink number five.”
I really liked that one. Maybe the next will be even more rewarding. The night continues as usual. Booze, laughter and guy fishing. It seems tonight all the good ones are already caught, but I’m happy just to get to talk to my girls. Zali and Mel’s vagina’s live a much more adventurous life than I have, so I can live through them vicariously.
“Did you seriously say that you had some nookie for lunch today?”
“Yep! And it was a mighty tasteful lunch indeed. This time he surprised us. He came in, shut the door, kissed the hell out of us before lifting my girl up onto the desk, spreading her thighs and feasting on us with that talented tongue of his. It was the best damn lunch break we have ever had.”
“What happened to the rule, never at work, well, unless it was in the stairwells?”
“They have both been so busy lately that the only time they can hook up is during work hours and there is more options in their offices than the bloody cold stairwells so the risk is worth it. This fuck buddy business is hard work sometimes. As much as I am not complaining, because seriously, that mouth of his is worth it, but I sometimes think I would like a regular guy, who was devoted solely to servicing me on a nightly basis, in our own bed. And one that preferably didn’t confuse our name with his other fuck buddy, because that little slip has me drying up faster than smelling some other skanks perfume on him.”
“At least you’re getting some attention. Our last two were the ‘wham bam thank you mam so sorry forgot to please you too’ kind of men. How did we not pick up on that before we got to the bedroom? We are seriously losing our radar if that has happened twice in a row. There will not be a third time. If I sense that’s about to happen, I will clamp up so hard, nothing will get through my tight muscles.”
“Are we ever going to find our Mr Long Term Guy? I mean, I thought the plan of seeking pleasure only was fun for a while, but it’s not really suiting my girl. She needs a bit more nurturing than a one night stand can offer.”
“It won’t happen over-night, but it will happen, if that’s what she really wants. Her Mr Long Term Guy is just having trouble finding her. For my girl, she’s not ready for long term yet, so I will just hang on tight and enjoy the ride.”
Tonight is a bust, well almost. Just as the girls all get up ready to leave, two handsome men walk in the door, one we actually recognise.
“Oh no, don’t look. That’s Mr Oh la la I was telling you about and by the way he was looking at me today, I really do not need him trying to pick me up right now. I am so not messing up the deal my boss is trying to get him to sign. Let’s go through the crowd and hope he doesn’t spot me.”
“Just because you can’t go there doesn’t mean I can’t. I feel like some ‘Crème Brule’ for desert. Night ladies.”
Yep, she went there. And as my girl and Mel sneak out through the crowd they look back and can see Mr Oh la la ready to feed Zali whatever she wants.
Tania Cooper and Ricky Cooper are co-authors and besties, who just so happen to have the same surname, live on opposite sides of the world, Australia and the UK and Skype almost daily to bring you their combined creativeness.
Their first collaboration came in the form of the dark and graphic Heaven’s Scent series. They share the same wicked sense of humour and a love of creative words as shown in their individual books.
They love to hear from their readers who share a passion for the written word in all shapes and sizes.
Author Links
Tania Cooper
Ricky Cooper
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