Bang! You’re Dead


Bang! You’re Dead

ISBN-13: 9781301717866

EXCERPT from Bang! You’re Dead!

Judy Banger had one goal and one goal only: survive the humiliation of having sex with a man old enough to be her father. Or grandfather. Although she wasn’t sure that was possible since she was fifty-four and Buddy Fusco wasn’t exactly doddering. Quite the opposite, actually. Bud looked pretty good sitting on the foot of her bed, legs spread, wearing nothing but a shit-ass grin. With the help of the little blue pill he’d made a point of popping the moment he walked through the door of her double-wide, he was flag-pole stiff and, obviously, proud of it.

“Hot damn, Judy, look at the size of this woody. Shit, I should have tried this stuff years ago.”

Judy stared at his reflection in the mirror of her antique dressing table. Her bed was just a few feet away behind her but unlike a rear-view mirror, objects were not smaller. Not at all.

She had to lick her lips before she could apply a coat of Flaming Coral lipstick. The salesgirl had assured her the color was, “Sexy mama hot.” She might have thought sexy grandma, but she’d been PC enough not to lose the sale.

“You’re gorgeous, gorgeous. Come over here. Let’s play.”

Gorgeous. When was the last time anyone called her pretty? She honestly couldn’t remember. Compliments had never been Shawn’s thing.

She looked at her reflection and smiled. Despite the butterflies wreaking havoc with the coffee and cream cheese Danish Buddy had brought and insisted they share “…for endurance, baby cakes,” it felt good to dress for a man, to splurge on new perfume and lipstick. She liked the idea of feeling desirable. It had been too long.

“Coming, Buddy. I want to look my best.” As she fluffed out her artfully frosted hair–her one big splurge, she caught his gaze in the mirror. The look of tenderness in his eyes made her remember: he’s a friend. This might turn out okay after all.

“I love you, Judy. You know that, right?”

She did. But she also knew what he truly meant. “I love the fact you’ll let me fuck you, even though I’m old and this could be the last time anybody lets me fuck them. Ever.”

That had been her rationale for conceding to Buddy’s three-month long “seduction.” He’d taken her to a boatload of dinners, more lunches than her waistline could afford, plus, he’d paid to have her front porch fixed–and she wasn’t talking a boob job. The redwood steps and landing of her double-wide had just about rotted through when Buddy called a contractor friend of his to rip out the whole thing and build a brand new, extra wide porch with a handicap ramp. She’d vacillated about the ramp because it seemed to cry “one step closer to old age,” but, as Buddy pithily pointed out, “If I don’t have to exert the effort to climb your steps, I’ll have more energy for other things.” He meant sex, of course.

I’m about to have sex with an octogenarian, she thought. I should be ashamed.

She was. A little. But she also suffered from a deep abiding sense of fairness, and, dammit, Buddy had earned this booty call. And what the hell! Sex was good for you and she hadn’t done the dirty in a long time. Way too long. God, what if her body forgot how to play this game? Or, her juices had dried up like that uncovered can of fruit cocktail in her fridge?

She glanced at the array of products on her dressing table. The tube in the pretty purple box promised more sizzle for her “big moment.” The damn thing cost twenty-five bucks. She’d better see freakin’ fireworks or back it went.

“You’re sweet, Buddy. I like you, too.” A truthful rejoinder. She did love him…like a friend, as Pru would have said. Judy’s BFF, Prudence O’Riley–flame-haired, ninety-pounds dripping wet and one wealthy male consort away from earning her AMEX Gold Digger card–had even expressed a fleeting hint of interest in Buddy until “Mr. Platinum” showed up on the scene. “Did you check with your doctor about those pills like I asked?”

“Sure, baby. Anything for you. Come on over here. Let’s get you naked.”