Lucky Bunny Page 2

  I’ll spend all day shooting messages at some of my favorite lays and figure out whose presence I can tolerate the most, while I bar-hop and meet new potential contenders for the role of the future Mrs. Ben Copley.

  But before I can get started on any of that, I have to get one Itsuki Okata to get on board with giving up his business without knowing he’s giving it up to the son of someone who is basically an oil baron villain from an old cartoon western.

  Chapter 3

  Tessa

  “What do you mean arson?”

  “The fire was intentionally started, ma’am, and that falls under arson. Your insurance policy doesn’t cover arson”, the perpetually chipper claim examiner. “We do apologize for the inconvenience but there is nothing we can do from our end.”

  “Don’t give me that, are you kidding me? I’ve already filed a statement, carefully explaining the circumstances. The boy who started the fire has a developmental disability, he didn’t start the fire with intent to burn the building down.”

  “I understand, ma’am, and I do apologize, but unfortunately there is nothing we can do from our end.”

  There is not much on this Earth I can say I hate, but bureaucratic nonsense like this definitely falls on that list.

  “Sir, is there anything at all you could do to help me? Anyone you could direct me to”, I plead.

  After a long pause, they reply in the same sickeningly chipper voice. “You could try to appeal but even doing that, it is not guaranteed that you will be covered.”

  “Thanks”, I groan.

  “No problem! We hope we were able to help you with your concern today, is there anything else—”

  Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you! FUCK YOU!!!

  “FUCK YOU!!!!”

  “Is this a bad time”, I hear a raspy voice ask.

  I turn around startled, to find that Devyn has been watching me break down over this insurance claim.

  Her hoarse voice caught me by surprise, but my hot feeling of shame disappeared quickly as let herself in and ran to hug me.

  “You sound like a blues singer”, I joke.

  She smiles and hugs me tighter. “Yeah, who knew all I needed was to survive a fire to fulfill my dreams of going on tour with John Popper.”

  “Is that going to uh.. Be permanent?”

  Devyn shrugs. “Could be. Doctors aren’t sure yet, they said it’s too early to tell. But before you even think of feeling sorry for me, don’t. I lived through a fire that tore down a whole building. That’s pretty badass if I do say so myself. And now I can start a ASMR podcast or something with this voice.”

  Typical Devyn. No matter how dire things appear, she refuses to look anywhere but up. I’m glad she’s stuck around for so long. Even a week in the hospital can’t stop her from being hopelessly optimistic.

  “Speaking of that fire”, she starts.

  I shove my finger in her face, “Nope. Nuh-uh. Can we… I can’t hear another word about the fire. I swear I’m going mad because of it. Reporters, claim examiners, the kids’ parents… I can’t escape it. All because some kid decided to bring a lighter and some hairspray.” I angrily ball my hands up into fists but try not to let the anger take my over completely. “Please”, I insist, “talk to me about literally anything else.”

  The two of us stand awkwardly in silence while we wait for either of us to start a conversation.

  Devyn breaks the silence. “I uh… I’ve been in the hospital for seven days, so I don’t really know what you want me to talk about, if not the reason I was put in the hospital, am out of a job, and had to cancel my phone service.”

  I fall back onto the nearest chair and groan loudly. “Devyn, what in the world am I supposed to do? All I ever wanted to do was help people and… all I did was put you in the hospital and a bunch of kids in state provided care centers. Where do I go from here? Do you think they’ll just let me open the facility back up? And even if they do, who would enroll their child in a daycare run by the person who let her previous daycare explode?”

  “Hm. I certainly wouldn’t”, Devyn chides.

  With Devyn around constantly cracking jokes, it’s difficult to stay upset about the completely reasonable things upsetting me.

  “So what’s the plan? Let me in on it. Whatever you have planned”, she demands.

  I scoff. “Plan, what plan? I’m going down shit’s creek without a paddle, Devyn. I was hoping you had a plan.”

  “Well, I do, and I’m glad you asked”, she declares cheerfully. “I’ve got some friends with deep pockets and my church is great with fundraising, so I’ll try to orchestrate a way to pool money to rebuild the daycare.”

  Fundraising. It wouldn’t be impossible to raise money this way but I don’t want to wait another three years to open up again. That’s three years that the children aren’t being given the attention they need and could potentially be getting abused by their so-called caretakers. I can’t wait that long.

  “What about a GoFundMe”, I ask. “People know the story, it’s become a national story, for better or worse.”

  Nodding her head, Devyn starts to form a smile. “So you think the publicity will help?”

  “Hell yes. No such thing as bad publicity, right? If people know about what happened, they’ll likely donate to the cause. And whoever doesn’t want to donate might share the story, giving it another go-around through social media. The more people see it, the more money that could be donated.”

  Goosebumps start forming on my arms. It’s a great idea.

  “I’m going to get started on the page now”, I tell her as I open up my laptop.

  “Attagirl! There ya go. That’s the Tessa I know!”

  As I fill out the necessary information on the GoFundMe page, I ask Devyn to share the page with her church group as soon as I’m done with it.

  “You don’t even have to ask, I’m doin’ it.”

  It fills my heart to know that throughout the worst situations, I have someone like Devyn to count on. Even if it’s just emotional support, I’m appreciative of her and the impact she’s had in my life.

  I stop typing but remain facing the laptop. “Did you get my flowers?”

  She nods her head. “All seven bouquets, yes. And the nurses told me you came every day. I kinda remember you being there, but I was all conked out on morphine so it’s a bit fuzzy. Once I snapped out of it, though, I nearly cried.”

  Devyn bends over and hugs me from behind. “Thank you, Tessa. You’re the best.”

  I reciprocate her warmth and thank her for sticking by me through these hard times.

  “Don’t you worry, I’ll always be here for you. Besides, I don’t know how likely my chances are of getting hired are now. I’m the person who let their student blow up a school.”

  I turn around and release myself from her hug. “You are not responsible for what a child did. You shouldn’t have to go through every student’s backpack to ensure they don’t bring in dangerous items. They should know better and so should their parents”, I snap.

  “I know, I know. I just… in my morphine-fueled daze, I couldn’t help but think about how I could have stopped… I don’t know”, she sighs mournfully.

  “That’s right, you don’t know”, I state sharply. “We could have done a number of things differently, but we didn’t and now we have to deal with the consequences and learn from our mistakes. That’s all we can do. If we sit around thinking about the minor things we could have done, we won’t move on. Got it?”

  I look up at Devyn and spot a tear traveling down the side of her face. She quickly wipes it away and clears her throat before saying anything. “Right, right. You’re right.”

  “Devyn”, I say grabbing her face. “It’s not your fault.”

  She wraps her arms around me once more and thanks me for assuring her that she did everything she could given the circumstances.

  Chapter 4

  Tessa

  Daytime is normally when I thrive. The sunlight gives me a
ll of the energy I need to take on a day. But as of late, my sunlight has been blocked by antennas extending out from news vans. Even when my house isn’t surrounded by reporters and crowds of concerned locals, I can’t step out onto the sidewalk without a total stranger hounding me with questions I don’t have the answers to. I’ve had to order my groceries through delivery apps. All of this to say, that I’ve become more of a night person as of late.

  This week alone, I’ve adapted a nocturnal clock and have been able to get a lot done. Not much productive stuff, but I’ve torn through hours of movies and shows I’ve had on my Netflix and Hulu queues. After that, I decided to take a crack at the books I’ve bought over the years but never read. All they’ve done is collect dust.

  Among my collection of unread books, I found a handful of erotic romance novels I purchased right out of high school, thinking it was the adult thing to do. But it was immediately after high school that I started to work towards opening the daycare, so I never ended up reading them.

  “Rekindled Love” is the first one I picked out to read during these lonesome nights. A story about a couple of former high school sweethearts reuniting after they went their separate ways following an unfortunate and almost life threatening encounter with drugs. The story itself was very interesting and kept me reading, but the sex scenes were unexpectedly… perfect. The way the main characters’ first sexual encounter after years of being apart is written had my reaching between my thighs. Only a few paragraphs into the first sex scene, I had to stop reading and really appreciate the writing.

  By that I mean, masturbating to it.

  “Rekindled Love” has kept my nights interesting, to say the least. I’m currently on the last chapter, where the main characters have done as the title suggests, rekindled their love. They got married and are on a honeymoon where they have some agonizingly hot sex. Agonizing only because I’m not part of it.

  I slide my panties down and feel myself becoming wet as I read line after line of this incredible final sex scene.

  I put myself in place of the main character and imagine myself being hoisted up by the love interest’s burly arms. The book doesn’t do a great job of describing the love interest but as I’ve read along, I’ve pictured him to be a tall, tanned, muscular guy with a square jaw and little to no facial hair. I’ve never been a fan of the prickly feeling of a man’s unshaven face.

  The man carries the protagonist through his lakeside cabin until they reach the upstairs bedroom. He spreads her legs and goes down on her until her pussy is so soaked that his cock slides in with so much ease, it’s as if his penis belonged there and nowhere else.

  I want to know what that feels like. To have the perfect dick. Or any dick. Well, I’d really prefer the perfect dick if such a penis exists, but at this point, I’d settle for any.

  For me, high school was a time to study and make friends. Relationships weren’t something I focused on. And since I went right from high school to a long term business venture, I never made any time for dating. And now, here I am. A virgin whose only source of sexual pleasure comes from decade old books people would probably mock me for having.

  I feel like at this point, if I’m going to have sex it should be with the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, but at times like this when my brain is driven purely by my libido, I crave any sort of dick. I know how easy it is for girls like me to find one night stands on Tinder. I just need to post a picture of my cleavage and I’ll have dozens of options to choose from, ranging from gross to possibly fuckable.

  Regardless, I have too much on my plate at the moment. Even if I tried one of those dating apps, I’d probably be flooded by trolls who just want to make me feel bad about my daycare being blown up. The internet is a cruel place, after all.

  I shake those thoughts out of my head and try to continue reading my erotica. I’m back in the cabin with my dream hunk. He’s slowly running his tongue up and down between my pussy lips, lightly flicking my clit each time his tongue reaches it. He holds my legs still as they start to shake out of my control. His tongue is my body’s master now. But he stops. He asks me to take a good look at his meaty weapon. And when I do, I find myself having to wipe some drool off my life.

  The dick I see before me is bigger than some porn stars’. That’s the perfect dick. A girthy, veiny, powerful cock that can stretch me out with just its head. It’d make me moan. It’d make me scream in satisfying pain. It’d hurt so good. I can picture it throbbing inside of me as it pumps load after load of warm cum into me. I want it all. Every last drop. And even once he’s done, he’s not off the hook. I want him to fuck me until I climax. I want to clench my pussy on his dick so hard, we both finish with a triumphant, exhausted scream.

  Alone, I’m only able to reach a mostly satisfying orgasm. Nothing that ends with a scream. Just a silent gasp for air as I relax all the muscles I was just contracting.

  It’s a shame that all I have to comfort me at the moment are these erotic romance novels I can jill off to. But once I step out my room, I have to go back to being the single heroine of my own story.

  I take a shower to wash off the shameful feeling of still being a virgin who has to resort to her crusty novellas to get off. But when I step out of the shower and check my laptop, I find myself feeling triumphant. Happy even. Happier than I thought I could ever feel.

  Upon opening my laptop, I’m bombarded by a legion of notifications from GoFundMe. It’s only been six hours since I uploaded the post and we’ve already raised upwards of $2,000. That Devyn really knows how to spread the word. As I look through the list of donors, I see that it’s mostly people I’ve seen pictures of on Devyn’s Facebook. I try to call her but remember that she disconnected her phone due to the absurd amount of people trying to contact her to discuss the fire.

  I’ll see her soon and I’ll make sure she knows how much I appreciate her hard work.

  I don’t know if GoFundMe donations will be enough to save the school, but this is a step in the right direction.

  Chapter 5

  Ben

  Generalizing can be a dangerous act, but I’ve found that more often than not, the old adage of “where there’s smoke, there’s fire” rings true in real life.

  Most men love pussy, that’s just a fact.

  Once I was able to get Itsuki on the phone, I apologized profusely for my tardiness and offered to treat him to a night out on The Strip.

  “I have no interest in spending any unnecessary time in this city, Mr. Copley”, Itsuki calmly explained. “You have failed to meet our expectations as a business partner and we— excuse me— I do not have any desire to waste my time having some money hungry American try to woo me.”

  Thinking quickly, I try to show him that I’m on his side. “Mr. Okata, you misunderstand. I am not my father, I do not care one bit about getting you to partner with Copley Oil, believe me. Really, I couldn’t care less. I just need someone to be my wingman tonight. I’m going to be doing some barhopping, going through some pretty exclusive clubs, and I would hate to go alone.”

  I wait impatiently in my car for his reply.

  Itsuki clears his throat. “As tempting as that sounds, I believe I made it clear that I no longer want to spend any time here. Thank you but I have to decline.”

  “What is it you’d like to do here, Mr. Okata? Las Vegas is the kind of place where you can do anything, gamble, zipline, drink until you can’t drink anymore. You name it, we’ll do it”, I insist.

  I hear a frustrated sigh on the other end. “Mr. Copley, it was my understanding that we were on the same level of wealth. When you have a certain amount of wealth, you can do anything you want whenever you want. Quite frankly, you have nothing to offer me.”

  “I hope that I have made myself clear, Mr. Okata, I’m not trying to convince you to join Copley Oil”, I put the phone down and desperately think for something that would garner his interest. “Alright, here’s the truth. I was invited to an orgy tonight but under the con
dition that I bring another guy. I don’t have a lot of friends here in Vegas, and I don’t just want to pick up a schlub from the street. Mr. Okata, there’s a lot of pussy to be had tonight and some of that pussy has your name written all over it.”

  I grasp my phone so tightly I feel as if I’m only moments from cracking the device in half while I wait for Itsuki to take his sweet ass time to reply.

  “…Where would this uh— meeting— be happening”, he asks in a hushed tone.

  What a sucker.

  Immediately after the call, I start to orchestrate this orgy. I go through my contacts and send a message to every woman I met at an orgy or confided in me that they were interested in being a part of one. Some of the women I contact reply with unenthusiastic responses, upset that I’m only messaging them for sex. Others are, thankfully, up for an exciting night with many sweaty, naked bodies.

  A shower and change of clothes later, I text Itsuki, informing him to meet me at a room I’ve rented out for the night at the Elara. I check into the room and wait for the women. Helena, Brandi, Natsumi, Hailey, and Imani. They arrive one after the other and change into some lacey lingerie before splaying out onto the bed.

  “What are we waiting for”, Brandi asks.

  “A friend of mine. A very rich friend of mine who shouldn’t be disappointed in any way whatsoever”, I explain as I wait for a message of Itsuki’s arrival.

  Hailey shoots up. “Hold on, I’m not a prostitute. I thought we were just going to have some fun.”

  “We’re getting paid for this”, another one of the ladies asks.

  “No, Brandi. His being rich is important to me. You don’t worry about it”, I mumble.

  “I asked that, not Brandi.”