Bang! You’re Dead by Debra Salonen
Judy Banger is done apologizing for her name, her weight and her sexuality. She is sorry–really sorry–about Buddy Fusco–the dead guy in her bed, but she didn’t see that one coming…probably because she was too busy um…you know…to notice the exact moment he kicked the proverbial bucket. Does that make her a bad person? Or is she simply someone who’s played by the rules too damn long and is fed up with where being good has gotten her. She’s ready to be bad…or, at least, very naughty.
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About the author:
Debra Salonen is a nationally bestselling author with 26 published novels for Harlequin’s Superromance and American lines and one single title release with MIRA. Several of her titles were nominated for “Best Superromance,” including UNTIL HE MET RACHEL, which took home that honor in 2010. Debra was named “Series Storyteller of the Year” in 2006. Her current Indie publications include ARE WE THERE YET? — one woman’s funny, quirky, risqué journey of self-discovery on the road to love, a foursome of naughty novellas in her Screw Senility series, several short pieces, including a sweet “love story–not a romance” called A HUNDRED YEARS OR MORE, and CELEBRATE!–a newly released holiday anthology with four other authors.
What inspired you to write your book?
Very liberating, I must say. I hope the fun I had writing this series shows in the books.
Here is a short sample from the book:
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.”
Judy had been thinking about this moment for a week and she’d decided to go big. “In for a penny, in for a Euro,” Pru liked to say. Luckily, Pru was on a cruise around Greece and would never have to hear about this moment if it turned out ridiculous and embarrassing.
“I thought I’d strip for you, Buddy. Would you like that?”
He laughed. A big, happy rumble she loved hearing. “Sure. Why not? As long as you wind up with my cock buried to the hilt in your coochie-coochie, I’m up for anything. Up. Get it?” he asked, giving his member a quick flick of the wrist.
Coochie-coochie?
The old-fashioned word zapped a few more butterflies. Old-fashioned equaled safe and non-threatening in Judy’s book. She could handle this. Buddy was a friend. He didn’t have any diseases…well, not the sexually transmitted kind. She knew because he’d shown her a printout from his doctor.
Let’s do this.
She hit the button on her iPod nestled in its compact player and the Maroon-5 song she’d downloaded that morning started to play. She’d heard it at the gym. Did she have moves like Jagger? Probably not, but Mick had ten years on her, at least. If he could gyrate like a young fool, what was stopping her?
Not a damn thing.
She’d picked her wardrobe carefully. Wrap around Hawaiian-print skirt. Low-cut white eyelet blouse that looked like something Catherine Zeta-Jones would wear. And instead of her usual wide-strap bra with forty-eight hour support, she’d bought a lacey underwire thing that barely contained her double-Ds–the bane of her existence since age fourteen when they suddenly appeared on her too small chest. Men loved them, though. She’d learned that quickly enough.
She closed her eyes and let the music guide her hips. She shimmied for effect, leaning toward the bed where Buddy and his up-periscope were waiting. Did his eyes look a little misty?
Oh. Tenderness blossomed in her chest. He really did care. She just hoped the tears were from joy and not pain from his major stiff one. She unwound the skirt and let it drop to the floor. “Bang,” she said, trying to sound sexy, not hoarse and nervous.
Buddy made a low croaking sound. Drool started to form in the corner of his mouth. He stared at her crotch and licked his lips back and forth like a rabid dog.
Eek.
She looked down to make sure the tiny triangle of white cloth that claimed to be a thong was still in place and not wedged on one side of her labia. The fact that the string part had disappeared between her butt cheeks in a not so pleasant way made anything possible.
Normally, she was a modest, white panties sort of girl. But not today. Today she was a vamp. A seductress.
She stifled a giggle. Not the right sound for this moment. Definitely not the ambience she was going for.
Fingers shaking, she worked the buttons of her low cut blouse. “One little button…two little buttons.” She leaned over and shimmied, her breasts threatening to fall out of the lace cups.
Buddy let out a satisfying groan. He used his hands on his knees to pull himself forward. “Let me see those big beautiful girls. I’ve been dreaming about ’em ever since you started working at Heritage House. All the Herry men have the hots for you, Judy, but today you’re mine. All mine.”
His voice sounded raspy and strained, but she heard pride and exaltation in his tone, too. The bloom of red in his cheeks matched the healthy glow of his engorged penis, which he grabbed with one hand and waggled back and forth. “Come get a piece of this, mama.”
As corny as the line sounded, Judy felt her juices loosen up. She’d danced for her husband once or twice and the result had been red-hot sex. She’d forgotten how good it felt to be desired. She was ready and then some.
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Sample from Book:
Ensie smoothed out the dog-eared corner of the blueprints for the dozenth time. She shifted her weight on the bench, feeling the warmth of the sun on the back of her neck. She was too poor to own a watch, but she resisted the temptation to duck out into the hallway again and check the sepia-faced clock mounted on the wall. It had been 10:20 on the spot when she’d checked it moments ago. That meant that, by now, twenty-five minutes at most had passed since she’d left Mister Upforth and the rest of his team. And Upforth had said Cooper—or was it Carper?—would meet her in fifteen minutes. But the drafting room might be hard to find, for a civilian who’d never seen the Aerial compound before. And there had been an awful lot of wood left in that cart for just one person to move quickly. Even someone so tall, with those big arms and broad shoulders…
“You need to get a hold of yourself,” she said aloud, pressing her palm against the desk. She closed her eyes.
You’re an Aerial technician. Your ‘naut wants a consultation from a civilian firm. You’ve been trusted with getting information vital to the success of your project. This is Business with a capital B. Not some kind of private—
—and don’t you dare even finish that thought, because seriously: this is Business.
She scratched the space between her too-thick eyebrows as she looked at the door.
And even if it wasn’t Business, the morose thought crept through her defenses, it’s not as if anything’s going to happen. Any friendly vibes you’re getting are because he’s good at his job. Do you really think that there’s anything about you that would inspire unprofessional thoughts in a civilian guy like him? When he’s meeting all the other wisecracking Aerial girls and the Parade squad knockouts on the same day? Count yourself lucky you’re getting to talk to him at all. You’re just—
The door inched open. Ensie leapt to her feet behind the desk. There he was.
“There you are,” she said, rubbing her hands against her hips.
“So sorry,” he mumbled, turning sideways to come through the narrow door. He sounded a little out of breath. “I… I thought I heard you say ‘third building on the right,’ but I must have misheard. That’s actually the, uh, fuel center, I learned, where you guys are doing some crazy things with petrolatum…”
“Oh, gosh, you went to the refinery?”
“Yeah, through a back door. Got a little turned around with the fumes. But then someone—I forgot his name—pointed me here…”
“Spheres, I led you to the refinery without a mask! I am so sorry. I don’t know why I… I meant to say ‘first building on your—’”
“You did. I’m sure you did. I just heard it wrong—”
“No, no, I’m sure I said… I don’t know what I said!”
“Listen, with these ears, all bets are off. It’s a miracle I’m here at all.”
“It is.”
They stood facing each other with their hands flat against their hips. The sunlight illuminated the lower halves of their bodies.
“I’m Ensie,” she said, for no reason.
Why, oh why, oh why do I speak?
He smiled at her. His teeth were a little small and his gums were a little long, so when he smiled he looked like a kid, with a child’s whole-hearted good humor. “That makes, what, the third time we’ve done introductions?”
“I’m sure, probably,” she laughed. She touched her fingertips to the desk and found herself leaning towards him. “My third time, at least. And somehow I’m still not sure what your name is! Carper? Cooper? Caper?”
“Cooper Carper, actually.”
She felt herself smiling like a porpoise. She ordered her lips to stand down. Business. “Nice to meet you, Mister Carper,” she said, very professionally.
“You too, technician.”
She tilted her head at him. ‘Technician?’ Who are you, Sir Tomas? “You can call me Ensie.”
“Well, then,” he said, pressing the door closed behind him with a click, “you can call me Cooper.”
Business!
“I’m on a project now for a concept craft called the Flicker,” she said, brushing the blueprints with her hands as she stared fixedly at the parchment. Cooper came over to the side of the desk to look. His hands floated in space for a moment as he considered resting a big palm on top of the desk to lean over the plans, as she was doing, which would have brought their heads very close together. But instead his hands interlocked behind his back in a sort of parade rest and he just bent his head to look down. Ensie tried not to watch him as she folded the dog-eared corner back into place for the thirteenth time.
She laid out the specifications for the grasshopper-like craft, discussing fuel projections, the airflow models they’d run, and the properties of the alloys they’d debated for the hollow, curved wings. Cooper’s head bobbed up and down, and he offered a succession of mmm’s and I see’s at appropriate times. As she heard herself talk, she fidgeted with the bottom edge of the desk and only allowed herself quick glances up at his face. It was hard to tell if he was following the run-down at all, which gave her a heavy feeling in her stomach.
Burn me. Maybe Mister Upforth had a good reason for wanting that woman Skye to be the one to talk to me…
“So,” he said at last, shifting his weight. She looked up at him. “What exactly do you need us for?”
“Just wanted to, uh, forge a partnership with Upforth’s for a consultation on our ranine apparatus. That’s all.”
Cooper nodded. His forehead was wrinkled with vigorous thought. Ensie folded her hands together and tried not to let her disappointment show. He had the look of someone at an absolute loss for the right thing to say. Please, please, don’t be stupid.
“Honestly?” Cooper said.
“Mmm-hmm?” she said, tucking one of her bangs back into her hairnet.
For a long moment, he just looked at the plans. Then he shook his head and gave a heavy sigh. His hands reappeared from behind his back and he leaned down so quickly their foreheads almost brushed.
“Mister Upforth’s going to kill me,” he said, “but I don’t think you need us at all. The ranine designs you already deploy don’t have any trouble getting a Bulwark Petronaut off the ground, do they? And a Bulwark ‘naut in full armor’s gotta be eighty percent of the weight of this Flicker; maybe even the same, if their suits are steel and this alloy of yours is as light as all that. And I can’t imagine your test pilots are bulked-up the way Bulwark grunts are. I mean, who flies your things?”
“Knighted ‘nauts and expert techs, mostly,” Ensie said, her eyes widening. There was a whole new energy to him.
“So, right! When I think of a burly man or woman in armor jumping through the air no problem, and then I envision someone on the svelte side—like you—piloting a Flicker that, all things being equal, is the same weight but with, you know, better airflow?”
“Hang on,” she said.
“Sure. Sorry. I know I don’t have the right terminology—”
“Did you say, uh.”
She pressed her lips together. Business! But there was no hope.
“Did you say I’m ‘on the svelte side?’”
Cooper’s looked down at her. His face went gray with horror.
“I hope that word means what I think it means,” he whispered.
She looked to the far wall. Cute? Petite? Is that what you meant? She longed to ask him that like a Parade squad nymph would say it, drifting towards him with an archly raised eyebrow and a lazy, kissable half-smile. But just playacting through the line in her head set a swarm of nervous giggles buzzing around in her throat, perilously close to her voice box, and it was all she could do to keep a lid on them.
“You’re.” Was that my voice? The word was a mortifying squeak.
Ensie swallowed and tried again. “You’re right that the aerodynamic profile of the Flicker sure beats an armored ‘naut,” she said, folding the corner of the blueprints back for the fourteenth time. “And weights are comparable. But the jumping action we’re thinking of is on a different scale.”
“Ah, okay. Higher elevations.”
“Yes, but more importantly, jumping’s the primary locomotion for the Flicker. A ‘naut can leap around from time to time, sure, but most of what they do is run. A totally different use of the coils and their, uh, built-in suspensions. Their legs.”
“Whereas the Flicker does nothing but jump,” Cooper said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Jump, and glide, and jump, and glide. You see? That’s why we need to make sure the coil box we build can handle tons of impacts, and launch with tons of force; but not so much force that the pilot loses control. See? It’s tricky.”
“It’s tricky,” he agreed. Cooper raised his hands. “To be honest, though, I’d trust you Aerials more to make it work right than I’d trust us.”
“But, uh.” Was he really going to walk out of her life because he was too honest to land his company a contract? Keep him. Keep him here! a hungry voice blared out somewhere inside her.
“You must have done something this size before,” she said, hurriedly.
“Oh, sure. We’ve worked big carriage suspensions. A motorized dais that raised and lowered, too, and had a bunch of dancers leaping around on it for, uh, a play or something.”
“See? So Upforth’s could lend experience with scale, while we figure out the whole ‘aloft’ part.”
“Ensie. I just want to be sure we wouldn’t waste your time.”
Ensie took a deep breath through her nose. “It would take a lot of time,” she said slowly. She curled her hands into little fists, rubbing her thumbs against her fingers as she looked up at him. No giggling. No giggling!
“We’d have to meet, uh… quite a few times, probably.”
Cooper looked down at her. His hands unlocked from behind his back and floated to his sides. “Quite a few times?” he said, quietly.
“Oh, yeah. A big project like this could take hours and hours of collaboration.”
He nodded. One of his large fingers pointed to the desk. “Here?”
As he tapped the surface of the desk, Ensie thought of purposes for the wide flat surface that had never even crossed her mind before. She’d never wanted to get started on a collaboration so badly.
“Or your workshop,” she said. “You know. Whichever sounds more productive.”
“Either sounds good to me.”
“Great.”
“Great. Can I say—”
“I just want to—”
They both spoke up simultaneously, and leaned a little closer at the same time. It brought them many centimeters closer than either had meant independently. Ensie froze there. He was so close that her hairnet was almost brushing the center of his chest. She turned her face up to him and saw something very interesting in his eyes.
“You first,” she whispered.
Cooper took a long moment before speaking. “Can I just tell you that I’m looking forward to working with you?”
“Likewise…” Ensie shifted her hand so their fingertips on the desk were touching. “Cooper.”
He shifted his hand on top of hers. Warm pressure, skin-to-skin, flooded up her arm and into her chest. The contours of his rough palm were fascinating as she explored them through the fine hairs and delicate nerves of the back of her hand. Her vision went a little blurry as she dedicated all her brainpower to experiencing his touch against her skin.
A massive noise clattered through the hallway just outside. Ensie recoiled before she recognized the sound of the tool cart for what it was. Cooper started too, raising his hand up and away. He flushed the color of an overripe apple and he refused to meet her eyes as the tech outside pushed the noisy cart from one workroom to the next.
“I.” Ensie brushed the nonexistent dust off the blueprints again, trying to get her voice under control again. Cooper slowly put his hands behind his back.
“That, uh.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. That was unprofessional of me, and I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him.
“I shouldn’t have… I mean, I didn’t mean anything by, by touching you.”
“You didn’t?”
“Well, I… it’s not… There’s a time and a place, that’s all. Unprofessional,” he rambled, shaking his head.
Ensie felt the grain of the desk beneath her hand. “I made you think unprofessional thoughts,” she murmured.
Their eyes met.
“It’ll never happen again,” he said, something low coloring his voice.
Ensie raised one eyebrow in an unspoken ‘really?’ she would have been very proud of if she had been able to see herself.
Sunlight flooded the room as their lips pressed together.
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