Speedos & Ecrivain Specials

by SallyMason1

"Bomb."

I shield my face to escape the pelting drops of the exploding paint bomb, just catching a glimpse through the sudden thick smoke of the jerk who set it off. Oh, my, is he hot. Muscles flex as he swings himself onto the motor scooter, the speedos glued to his ass as if he was born with them. A beauty of a specimen, terrorist or not.

"Gee, my business suit is ruined." Annabelle huffs next to me, wiping some of the paint off her cheek. "Assholes. I just wished the government would finally put a stop to this. Why do I even pay taxes?"

I nod, drool still sticking to the corner of my mouth when I remember those muscles.

"And you." Daggers shoot from her eyes as her finger pokes right at her husband's nose. "Why didn't you cover me with the umbrella?"

His dorky smile meets her firing eyes. "It happened so fast—."

"Oh, shush. Excuses, excuses. I don't want to hear them." She tears a tissue from his outstretched hand with a huff. "You are worthless and will be lucky if I'm not divorcing you. Now let's go home."

I watch her stalk off, husband trotting three steps behind her, just as a good husband should. Though I can't even remember his name since she changes them like her panty hose, he seems alright. It's hard to please Annabelle.

I discard my jacket, which caught the brunt of the paint, in the next garbage disposal dumpster before shouldering my backpack. No need to be ostracized for smelling like a stinky Carano when riding public transport. My eyes rest longingly on the rickshaw where a husband paddles like there is no tomorrow to get his oversized wife home. I should get me a husband at the next auction. They come in handy, but so far, I have always shied away from one since I can't stomach the thought of sharing my mansion with anyone else. Besides, those males are expected to reproduce. I shudder at the thought of a bunch of toad vomit, even if I don't have to clean up after the little buggers.

The shuttle is stuffed to the brim of unwed women on their way home and I catch a few Carano smelling girls crouched in a corner. The evil eyes they get from the other commuters shows everyone's disapproval. You should walk if you get into a paint bomb attack. Though it's not the law, it common courtesy.

"Hey, Mia."

I spin around, not able to hide the grin. Cecille's hair is even greener than usual and her tank top can't hide the skin folds around her chest. Hot. I wonder who she is trying to impress.

"Hey. What's up, girlfriend?"

When we do the customary kissing cheek thingy, a whiff of Ecrivain Special oil flares my nostrils. She is definitely out for a lay.

"So where are you heading?" I ask.

"The club." Her eyebrows wiggle—she is unquestionable talking about one of those illegal establishments where humans go. I heard they even sell coffee. Unreal.

"Wanna come?"

I gaze down at my outfit. "Not sure."

"There's a terra shop right next to it." Her lips purse in a pout. "Come on, it will be so much fun."

I shouldn't—or should I? My voice drops to a low whisper. "Isn't that where those terrorists go?"

She glances around, meeting the scolding gaze of an older woman who is glaring at her revealing top with a scrunched up nose. "You mean guys who wear speedos?" Her voice is just as low.

I nod.

"Yeah, those humans go there."

The drool is back to sticking to the corners of my mouth. Maybe I'll see the guy from the market again.

Five more stops and we get off at the harbor district. It's a bad part of town, sufficient signs warning us that we are entering the area at our own risk. No government fighters to protect us here. Undoubtedly, what we are doing is illegal which gets me to drool some more. I was always bored being a goody toad. "Have you been to this club before?"

"Oh, yeah, many times." Cecille is toddling across the cobble stones with an excited giggle.

"And is it true what they say about those human men?"

"Yes." Pink streaks find their way into her mossy green cheeks. "They are the best."

"But they are terrorists."

She stops, her lips curved down to a slight frown. "You shouldn't talk about them like they are doing something wrong. All they want is equality, like it used to be on their planet. Those paint bombs don't harm anyone. Okay, they stink, but there's no other way to get the message across."

"But Annabelle said—"

"Annabelle is a snob who had too many loser husbands that made her bitter." She briefly bows her head when we pass a statute of the Almighty Toad King. "Everyone knows those humans are special. Why do you think Terrorwatch is the show with the highest approval ratings? Women don't want to look at a bunch of toads in police uniforms but the hot speedo guys they are chasing after."

"I suppose."

"There's no suppose about it. Face it, girlfriend. After tonight, your croaks will never be the same." Her eyes sparkle with an undeniable thirst for something.

By the time we reach the club, I'm a ball of excited nerves. Cecille convinces me to change my conservative blouse and dress pants for a tight hugging skirt and a crop top. The outfit highlights my skin folds. I allow the shopkeeper to color my hair with orange highlights. Just before we slip into the club, Cecille hands me a small bottle.

"It's Ecrivain Special. Trust me, those guys love it."

I sprinkle a generous amount of the oil all over my exposed skin, sending up a quick prayer to the Almighty Toad King to curb my dirty thoughts. It's not working—but then again, when did the Toad King ever do anything for us? It's just a way for the Toadies to keep us in check and collect a bunch of sinner fines.

Loud music booms in my ears as soon as we are through the door. The flashing lights from the ceiling get me dizzy. I giggle when my eyes fall on the dance floor where a few couples grind together. Oh, my. These guys mean business.

I stumble behind Cecille to the bar. She holds up two fingers. "Irish coffee for me and my friend."

Holy crap, the bartender is wearing speedos. The breath is stuck in my throat when he smiles. I barely register the two cups he places on the bar, my eyes get stuck on the small bulge in the front of his speedos. According to Scientific Weekly, human males have penises. I wonder what they look like.

"You girls have fun now." He winks at me which gets me to hyperventilate.

I finally tear my eyes off him and focus on the cup. Cecille has already taken a mouthful, cream sticking to her full lips. With her long tongue, she slowly licks it away. I take a careful sip, a burst of bitter sweet sin exploding in my mouth. Oh, my. This is too good.

"So this is how coffee tastes?"

"It's actually Irish coffee and contains human alcohol."

"And does that do anything special to you?"

"It gets you drunk without a mating pill."

"Oh, cool." Usually, those mating pills are only available to women ready to propose. Since I never bought a husband at an auction, I never had a need for them, but I heard that they give women a buzzing in their ears and the world turns into rainbows and unicorns. How exciting. I sip some more from the cup. It's toe curling good. I could get used to this.

"Hey, chica." A guy in speedos drops himself on the barstool next to me. "I don't think we met. First time here?"

I eagerly nod. "Yes."

"I'm Rudolf."

"Mia."

I shake his hand, heat flushing my cheeks when my eyes wander over his chest and down to his speedos. He is a fine specimen, though not as hot as the guy from the market.

"Can I buy you another drink?"

I realize that I finished the cup. "Isn't it usually the other way around?"

"Oh, a feminist. Knock yourself out, lady."

I order more drinks, listening to the music as my eyes dart around. On a large screen, a program with tons of speedo guys and girls is airing. They are running on a beach with funny red vests.

"What's that?" I ask my new human friend.

"Oh, that's Baywatch, longest running program in human history."

"Wow, they all wear speedos. Are they terrorists?" I slap my hand over my mouth as soon as the words are out. How rude of me.

He laughs it off. "No, they are lifeguards."

"What's that?"

"Humans who save other humans from drowning."

"Humans can drown?" Who would have thought of that? That was definitely not mentioned on Scientific Weekly.

"Yes, but it's a secret, so don't tell anyone."

"Don't worry, I won't." I set the empty cup down on the bar, signaling the bartender for a refill.

"You seem very thirsty."

"You have no idea." I gaze up at him through my long lashes, trying to suppress the slight tingle in my spine when his eyes get stuck on my chest folds. He'll do if the guy from the market is a no-show.

I'm on my fourth cup when I finally spot him. He is entangled with another toad on the dance floor, his hips swaying softly in harmony with the sounds. Close up, he is a stunning beauty. Dark hair curls on his chest and his skin is the color of rust. Long facial hair, both on top of his head and around his mouth soften his rough features. His muscles are extraordinary and I twitch on my barstool.

"Would you excuse me?"

Realization hits my companion's eyes before I can spin around. Poor Rudolph. He was trying so hard, but the guy from the market takes priority. That's why I came.

I halt next to him and the dancing toad. "Care if I cut in?" I give her a gentle push and she stumbles back. Fierce eyes, ready for a fight, meet mine before she realizes my status. She is no match for me. With a twisted tongue, she backs off.

"No need to fight over me," the guys whispers in my ear. His husky voice is like a spoonful of toad gel. Delicious.

"Just dance."

"I'm David, by the way." His skin is soft against my leathery scales.

"Mia."

"It's nice to meet you, Mia. Is that Erivian Special you're wearing?"

"Yes." I'm thrilled he noticed.

"I love it."

I can't hide the smile. This is almost like Fifty Shades of Pink with me starring as Christina Rosy. Unreal. This place is so lit.

When our skins start to stick together, we head back to the bar and order more Irish coffees. The buzzing in my ears turns everything surreal and his hot lips on my cheeks melt with the rainbows and unicorns that dance around me. I don't realize I'm back in my home until the world turns dark behind my eyelids. I just lay there, listening to my even breath, but then I have an idea. My Terraphone is still automatically programmed on the last breathing contact and he picks up on the third ring.

"Marry me," I murmur into the receiver. "I want to have your tadpoles."

His laughter is like a sensual purr. "I'm sorry, honey, but I can't do that. I'm a freedom fighter and you are..."

"The daughter of the Prime Chancellor..." Maybe this will turn into a fun quiz.

"You are?"

"Yes."

"Fuck me."

"What's that?"

"It's just an expression. Wait there. I'm coming to get you."

"Does that mean you're accepting my proposal?"

"Sort of. Just wait, alright."

"Okay." I sink back into my pillows, the buzzing in my head swelling into a river. The unicorns are dancing on the rainbows. Oh, my. I'm gonna marry a terrorist. My mom will probably freak and disown me.

~~~~

When the unicorns finally stop dancing, I'm in a strange bed with a jackhammer drilling around in my head. Nausea swells.

"Here, have some of this. It will help with your hangover."

"What is it?" I sit up, my hand stopping the bile from spilling out in the last second.

"Coffee with a few drops of Ecrivain Special. It will do you wonders."

I sip carefully from the offered cup, by stomach settling as soon as the liquid hits my throat. "Where are you getting all this coffee from? It's an illegal substance."

"Black market. It's our way to finance the resistance."

"So this stuff is worth a lot of money?"

"Oh, yes. Didn't you check your toad credit last night? You spend a fortune at the club."

I'm getting sick again, this time at the thought that the trip of the club probably wiped out my monthly allowance from my mom. In order to be forgiven, I will have to spend hours on hours on end with the boring Toadie priestess to confess my sins. What a drag.

"So, about the proposal..."

"What about it?"

"You were right. We can't get married. Humans and toads are not compatible."

"Too late." He lifts his left hand. "We officially tied the knot last night."

I stare at my stomach, realizing he gave me a mating bite. "Mother will be so mad and probably insist on a divorce."

"Do you want a divorce?"

"Not sure yet." Before I do, I definitely want to check out why every toad woman who has been with a human guy is obsessed with penises.

"Because it would really help the cause if we stayed married. Your mother couldn't probably deny us some rights if her daughter was married to a human male."

"Will you walk three steps behind me?"

"What about one step? That's progress."

I wrinkle my nose. "I guess I could live with that." It might be at first embarrassing, but Annabelle will have to get over it.

"Then it's a deal."

"It's a deal." My eyes fall on the bulge in the speedos. It's much bigger than that of the bartender. "Get rid of those pants."

"As you wish, my wife."

My eyes go wide when there is only skin of him. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

He grins. "Let me show you."

Oh my. That was definitely not part of 50 Shades of Pink. What in the Almighty Toad King's name have I gotten myself into?