Meanwhile, Ken had pulled at least half a dozen suitcases down into the aisle and was scratching his head and grunting at them like a primate.
That was my last memory before I opened my eyes again in Rome. The cabin was cheerful and sun-drenched. My head was clear. My thoughts came in the form of words rather than static images and smells from the 1980s. And I … was almost naked.
Looking around our seats was like waking up in the hotel room from The Hangover. I tried to piece together the events from the night before, but all I had were hazy bits and pieces of information. There was a black garbage bag on the floor next to my feet, which I vaguely remembered putting my puke-covered clothes into, but the trash bag had more puke on it, indicating that I had gotten sick again at some point in the middle of the night with absolutely zero memory of it. There was a T-shirt strewn across my lap, which seemed odd … until I lifted it and found my own bald pussy staring back up at me.
Dropping the shirt back into place, I remembered that I had gone commando the day before in preparation for joining the Mile High Club, so when I’d stripped off my puke-covered clothes, I guess I ended up wearing nothing but a bra and a pair of flip-flops.
That was when I realized whose shirt it was.
Glancing over at my husband, I found him topless, sound asleep, and slumped so far over in his seat that his head was nearly touching the ground in the aisle. The suitcases had been put away, but a few of the compartment doors were still open.
Jesus Christ.
“Ken,” I whispered, trying to pull him into an upright position as the pilot asked us to return our tray tables to their upright positions and prepare for landing. “Ken, we’re here.”
“Hmm?” He sat up and yawned, stretching his arms until they smacked against the low ceiling. At that point, his eyes finally blinked open, and he surveyed the wasteland that was Row 52, Seats A and B. Only his eyes weren’t reptilian and vacant anymore. They were clear and calculating. He deduced everything I had in about half the time and looked at me with the severity of a man who’d just discovered that he’d morphed into a werewolf the night before and killed a small village full of toddlers and puppies.
With a snort, I erupted into a full-bodied fit of hysterics, prompting Ken to burst out laughing too.
By the time we got to the hotel, I felt amazing. I was surprisingly well rested, in a beautiful country with my beautiful husband, and my puke-covered clothes were long forgotten in a trash can back at the Aeroporti di Roma.
We were greeted by a crowd of authors and readers, all milling about in the lobby, waiting to check in for the event.
Most were jet-lagged, a few were nursing coffees the size of fire extinguishers, and the obligatory question on everyone’s lips was, “How was your flight?”
I might not have been able to say that I’d joined the Mile High Club, but it was definitely the most memorable flight I’d ever taken. And isn’t that the point? Adventures aren’t guaranteed to go according to plan. That’s what makes them so damn exciting. But regardless of whether you win, lose, or end up getting a body cavity search by a TSA agent with freakishly large hands, if you get to share the experience with your best friend and laugh about it later, that’s all that matters.
“How was our flight?” I glanced at Ken over my shoulder with a knowing smile. “It was great.”
To which Ken made a snorting sound in the back of his throat and replied, “Was it?”
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this little sexual (mis)adventure, you should pick up my hilarious, HOT, heartwarming memoir, 44 Chapters About 4 Men (the inspiration for the Netflix original series Sex/Life), and then read the sexy, angsty, intense backstories for each man in the 44 Chapters spin-off novels: SKIN, SPEED, STAR, and SUIT!
Books by BB Easton
STEAMY COMEDIC MEMOIR
Inspiration for the Netflix Original Series Sex/Life
44 Chapters About 4 Men
The 44 CHAPTERS SPIN-OFF Series
Darkly funny. Deeply emotional. Shockingly sexy.
SKIN (Knight’s backstory, Book 1)
SPEED (Harley’s backstory, Book 2)
STAR (Hans’s backstory, Book 3)
SUIT (Ken’s backstory, Book 4)
The RAIN TRILOGY
A gritty, suspenseful, dystopian love story.
Praying for Rain
Fighting for Rain
Dying for Rain
For updates on new releases, sales, and giveaways, sign up here.
About the Author
BB Easton lives in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia, with her long-suffering husband, Ken, and two adorable children. She recently quit her job as a school psychologist to write books about her punk rock past and deviant sexual history full-time. Ken is suuuper excited about that.
BB’s debut memoir, 44 Chapters About 4 Men, is the inspiration for the Netflix original series Sex/Life. Because she had so much fun writing it, she decided to give each of her four men his own backstory novel: Skin, Speed, Star, and Suit.
The Rain Trilogy was her first work of fiction. Or at least, that’s what she thought when she wrote it in 2019. Then, 2020 hit, and all of her dystopian plot points started coming true. If you need her, she’ll be busy writing a feel-good utopian rom-com to see if that fixes everything.
You can find BB procrastinating in all of the following places:
Website: www.authorbbeaston.com
Instagram: www.instagram.com/author.bb.easton
TikTok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeEKRLyS/
Facebook: www.facebook.com/bbeaston
#TeamBB Facebook group: www.facebook.com/groups/BBEaston
Twitter: www.twitter.com/bb_easton
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/artbyeaston
Goodreads: https://goo.gl/4hiwiR
Amazon: https://author.to/bbeaston
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/bb-easton
Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/user/bbeaston
Etsy: www.etsy.com/shop/artbyeaston
And giving away free e-books from her best-selling author friends every month in her newsletter: www.artbyeaston.com/subscribe
Copyright © 2021 Kennedy Ryan
All rights reserved
Published by Kennedy Ryan
Free to Love is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author’s twisted imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.