It’s time for a few laughs – have a look at this exclusive from A J Goode’s Have a Goode One – enjoy!
His real name doesn’t matter. I’ll call him B. B was an aspiring writer too. We met through a writer’s group at the local library, but then realized that we had grown up in the same neighborhood. I dimly remembered him as one of the bigger kids who helped us little ones off the bus during fire drills, and he dimly remembered me as the kid sister of the very pretty girl he’d once had a crush on in French class.
We became critique partners, and he developed a crush on me. That sounds really vain, but there it is. And I am ashamed to say that I humored his crush even though I didn’t return his feelings. I’ve never been beautiful; the sensation of being “crushed on” was something new for me, and I reveled in it. Yes, I led him on. I flirted, pulled away, flirted some more. Anything to feed my ego.
In retrospect, I was really kind of a bitch about the whole thing.
We used to go to this amazing restaurant together, and sometimes we drank too much. One night, things went too far and ended up on a private moonlit beach, ready to strip off our clothes and go skinny-dipping in the cool September waters of Lake Michigan.
B promised not to look. He swore there was nothing sexual about our adventure, that it was just about being young and carefree and sharing an experience that we could write about someday. After all, he reasoned, we had both grown up this close to the Lake and had never been skinny-dipping. We just had to experience it, right? As friends. As nothing more than friends.
Naked, drunken friends on an isolated beach at midnight.
I really didn’t think that through.
We turned our backs to each other, and he got naked first. He let out a whoop as he ran into the water, and I turned.
Now, it’s important to note here that I have never been a slim person, and neither was B. He was a full-time grad student and a writer who rarely had time to be outside in the sunlight. I am the last person on earth to criticize anyone for being overweight or for being pale, but I am also the first to say that B’s bare white ass in the moonlight was quite possibly the most horrifying thing I have ever seen in my life.
It was huge. Massive. Of epic proportions. And it glowed. Robert Pattinson’s sparkly Twilit ass had nothing on the way B’s sunlight-deprived butt reflected the moonlight that night.
The night should have ended there, but I was drunk enough to be stupid. I shucked my clothes, waded in to the water up to my neck, and told him he could turn around. The water was calm that night, but there was enough of a current to make me a little unsteady. B suggested that we hold hands, just to be safe. At that moment, we moved close enough to each other that certain floating body parts touched other floating body parts and I knew it was time to get the hell out of the water.
If you enjoyed this why not buy the book: http://www.amazon.com/Have-Goode-One-J-ebook/dp/B00M4BX0D2/ref=la_B00ILB6ESW_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1409884661&sr=1-2