Geek Lust: Erotic Stories about Hot Nerds by F. Leonora Solomon Page A

school it sounded pretentious, even annoying. But now, if she had a F5 spinning towards her house, she’d want Cyrus at her side. Preferably shirtless.
    “He’s never been hit,” she commented for the sake of argument.
    “Like most people. If you’re careful, the statistics are on your side.”
    Not that Tiffany bought that argument. Cyrus hadn’t seen a chicken coop fly by his window with the chicken still clucking inside. “Why aren’t you showering at your parents’ house?” she asked
    “They’re mad I gave up nuclear science.” He cleared his throat. “My father feels meteorology is fluff—you can turn around now. It’s not like I’m going to appear on the six o’clock news waving my eyebrows at the camera.”
    Tiffany considered his words for a moment. If he cut that mop of brown hair, he’d look pretty good on the six o’clock news with those icy blue eyes. It’d be fun to be married to a weather man, wouldn’t it? “Maybe you should zip up your fly,” she suggested, amazed that the sight of his unbuttoned Levi’s was making her think about big, passionate, sloppy love.
    He coughed.
    “Right,” he said.
    “What does fluff have to do with showering behind a Dumpster?” she asked, proud she could string a few words together.
    “Ahh,” he replied. “I’m living in that thing and unfortunately it doesn’t have indoor plumbing.” His head gestured to an armored-up SUV, with a wielded steel plate body and turret on top. Most folks in the area felt the storm chasers were a bunch of publicity-crazed, man-child geeks, but Tiffany was still on the fence. After she’d seen a documentary with Bryant, it appeared they got a lot of useful data from inside a tornado.
    Speaking of inside.
    “I’ve got to go back to the restaurant.” Tiffany remembered she had an order of chili up and Bud Rodgers wouldn’t be happy if she delivered it cold to his table. Since she was pathetic today she glanced at Cyrus’s chest one last time before he pulled on a snug T-shirt that said, ”No, I won’t Fix Your Computer.” Forgetting about the chili she whispered,
    “You’re handsome.”
    He smiled.
    “You’ve gotten prettier.”
    Good God, he was smooth. So much so her first response was to argue with him, comment on that extra twenty pounds stuck stubbornly to her hips. “You don’t have pimples,” she told him as she turned to the restaurant. Somebody had to put a stop to this.
    “You’re not stuck up,” he countered.
    After she got Bud his order and refills for the booth in the corner, Tiffany found Cyrus at the bar, curly hair dripping on the menu. She eyed him for a moment as he pushed his glasses up his nose.
    “You missed.” She pointed towards the dirt on his forearm while something slow and warm pumped through her veins.
    Cyrus met her seriousness with a wink. “I tell everyone I know, if you’re going to take a shower under a hose, bring soap.”
    She smiled. “No creature comforts in that monstrosity of yours?”
    “It’s all about the science, baby.” He leaned back on his stool and stuck a toothpick in his mouth.
    “Since you’re saving mere mortals like me,” she said, twirling her braid around her finger, “maybe I could help you out by offering a real shower with hot water and that wonderful luxury called soap.”
    “Soap.” His blue eyes grew wide. “I’ve been searching the universe for something called soap.”
    Tiffany blinked a few times.
    “Captain Kirk,” he explained, face getting red. “Episode four, season two. I inserted the word soap for—”
    “I know,” she interrupted, wishing she’d picked up on the reference sooner. She’d seen the show at least three times. “My son.” She held her fingers up in the universal Star Trek sign. “He’s a fan.”
    Cyrus’s jaw dropped. “Tiffany Sutton, cheerleader, prom queen, and all-around most beautiful blonde at school, spawned a nerd.” He pounded his hand on the bar. “The planets must be out of