That Thing I Did by Allayne L. Webster

Author:Allayne L. Webster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: book, YFQ, YAF007000
ISBN: 9781743059067
Publisher: Wakefield Press
Published: 2022-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

We lie on a bed of damp sand, the dark starlit sky our ceiling. A gentle sea breeze strokes my skin. Salty air fills my nostrils and I taste rum on my tongue. Rum seems fitting for a shipwrecked pirate marooned on an island with a sassy wench. Maybe I should get dreadlocks. Wear black eyeliner. Grow my nails long. Adopt a parrot.

The rhythmic swish and slap of the ocean is our background music. I roll nearer and sneak a peek at Chloe’s silhouette, filled with wonder that I, Taylor-inexperienced-except-a-nursery-rhyme-lap-dance-Kennedy, am in the dead of night and in a clichéd romantic setting, alone with a girl. A real-life girl. And a beautiful one.

I roll onto my back. ‘Doubt thou the stars are fire—’

‘You’re not quoting me Shakespeare, are you?’

She knows Shakespeare? There’s that stirring in my pants again.

‘That’s cheeseburger with extra cheese, Taylor.’

‘My bad. I didn’t know you’re lactose intolerant.’

She snorts.

After a moment’s consideration, I say, ‘If thou can’t recite Shakespeare to thy lady, what would impress? I have an awesome repertoire of fart jokes.’

‘What kind?’

‘What kind?’

She stifles a giggle. ‘Do you know girls can fanny fart?’

This is a topic I’ve not previously discussed—with anyone.

I readily embrace it. ‘Actually, I had heard that. Not an actual fanny fart, of course, as I imagine one has to be within close proximity and have it declared an official fanny fart, lest it be confused with the common bum fart. But I have heard of fanny farts and I must say it’s good to have their existence confirmed. I’d started to wonder if they were one of those tree falling in the woods scenarios—if you don’t witness it, does it really happen?’

She dons a schoolmistress persona. ‘There are two types known to womankind. First, where air has been pumped inside—use your imagination—and the other kind. The kind which requires a primary source.’

I’m genuinely invested now. ‘Do educate me.’

‘First you have to be seated. This is a must. Picture me in class, unable to get the teacher’s attention and be excused for the bathroom. By now I’ve already bravely bum-swallowed a succession of farts.’

‘Ah. Bum swallowing.’ I nod emphatically. ‘Those farts you can’t freely emit so you hold them in. They internally dissipate, providing momentary relief, but it’s an empty promise. They go off, gather strength, redistribute, and return as a suppressed shit-storm with twice the vengeance.’

She laughs. ‘So eventually you have to let one go, right? If you’re lucky, a silent one. But with a seated barrier, anatomically it has nowhere to go. It must follow the female escape route trajectory.’

‘Of course …’

‘When it finally bursts, it flaps the … erm … flaps. Sometimes with an audible pop!’

‘Incredible.’

‘Yep.’

‘Well that certainly leaves dick farts for dead.’

She blinks. ‘You can dick fart?’

‘No, not that I’m aware of. Not enough sheeting. Further stymied if you’ve been circumvented.’

‘Circumcised.’

‘That’s what I meant. When you think about it, the humble dick really is a useless conduit.’

‘Meanwhile vaginas can stretch around a baby’s head and snap back to size,’ she says.

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