The Sex Was Great But... by Tyne O’Connell

was in a headlock and she had my balls twisted up inside her fist.
    â€œWhat the fuck are you doing,” I squeaked.
    â€œWhat am I doing? What the hell were you doing?”
    â€œI was trying to get you to breathe into the bag,” I gasped. “I thought you were hyperventilating!”
    â€œI was taking deep cleansing breaths.” She released her hold on my balls, but kept me in the lock.
    â€œAre you going to let me go?” I asked, in as nonconfrontational a way as I could after a few minutes had elapsed.
    â€œAre you going to try anything like that again?”
    â€œOnly if you start hyperventilating again.”
    She let me go. “Conchita will be furious when she sees this mess!”
    I looked around at the cereal strewn all over the dining room. “I wanted to help,” I tried to explain, cradling my testicles in my hand. “Shit, that hurt. Did you have to give me such a literal bollocking?”
    â€œI thought you were trying to kill me! I thought you’d gone psycho.” She looked mortified by her behavior. “Oh, God, have I really hurt you?” she asked.
    When I nodded she laughed. Because my balls hurt I confined myself to smiling broadly, but I still asked her what the fuck she was taking a deep cleansing breath for anyway?
    â€œI do it whenever I get stressed. My producer has just warned me that you might try to kill me.”
    â€œAnd you thought I’d choose this as my weapon?” I asked, holding up the crushed waxed sleeve still crunched up in my hand. I noticed that it was ripped; it must have torn when I’d pulled it out of the box, so basically it would have been useless anyway.
    I was useless.
    Holly was still laughing—and even though my balls ached something rotten, and I felt useless, and she probably thought I was insane, all I could think was— She touched my balls! Holly Klein, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in my life, actually touched my balls.

CHAPTER 7
    HOLLY
    â€œA philosopher who makes house calls is perhaps the coolest accessory a girl can have at the moment in L.A.”
    I am a complete bitch. The guy saved my bag with no ulterior motive and got his face mashed in the process. Now I’d virtually castrated him. As much as I tried to blame Nancy for making me paranoid, I had to accept the bulk of responsibility myself. Maybe the poll was right? Maybe I was all the things they said about me? Maybe I was worse?
    Minutes later, while I was discussing with Joseph what needed doing in the garden, Leo came out of the poolhouse and stood under the shower totally naked. Yes, totally naked.
    â€œErm, um…Leo? Did the swimming trunks fit okay?” I called out to him as casually as I could.
    He responded by calling out to ask whether I had ananti-nudity policy in force. I refused to make eye contact with Joseph, but I just know he was smirking. I’d provided Leo with a pair of black Versace swim trunks that Ted had left behind after he’d told his story to the Star.
    â€œWhat about the trunks I gave you?” I yelled down.
    â€œToo poncy. I’d be embarrassed,” he yelled up.
    I balked at this. I had a naked street person—an uncircumcised naked street person, at that—in my garden, and he was embarrassed? Actually, I couldn’t stop staring. I’ve never seen an uncircumcised penis before. It looks so much ruder than a circumcised one. I was only jolted back to reality when I heard Joseph muffling a chuckle into his hanky.
    â€œIf it’s a problem…I’ll put them on,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders as if this was somehow conceding to an unreasonable request.
    I told him that nudity was definitely a problem. Joseph muttered something about watering the plants around the side and disappeared.
    I could tell that once he got out of earshot he was going to howl with mirth, and later he was going to tell all his friends and family about this. By