Art for Bette's Sake

"What? I'm just looking at it-"

"I know it's small-"

"No, it's not small. It's...cute-"

"Whatever. I don't care. I just make do with what God gave me-"

"So you believe in God?"

"No-"

"But then why-"

"It's just a phrase, a figure of speech-"

"What do you believe in?"

"Nothing-"

"Nothing?"

Mark craned his head and looked at his wrinkled inch or two of penis in Bette's hand. "Hmm. I believe in me. In you. In Art."

"Really? That's it?"

"Yep." Mark sat up on his elbows. "I don't care if it's the smallest thing you've ever seen-"

"It isn't the smallest thing I've ever seen-"

Mark's eyes opened wide. "Really?"

"Really-"

"What about Jacob-"

"Oh-"

"I'm sorry. Touchy subject-"

"No, no, it isn't. Not about that. But to be honest, he was really big-"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah-"

"How big?"

"I don't know, 8 or 9-"

"Wow. Lucky bastard." He flipped his legs over the side of his bed, his cock from Bette's hand. Christ, violence just wasn't any fun without sex and vice versa. "Speaking of Art," he said, "I've got something for you." He walked to his desk, deftly wiping the pre-cum oozing from his cock hole with a quick flick of his finger, which he jabbed in and out of his mouth so rapidly Bette never saw it. "It's just a sort of late birthday present-"

"Awww-"

He returned to the bed holding out a book to Bette. She grabbed it and analyzed its cover without blinking. She frowned. "The Sluts?" she said.

"Yeah, it's a favorite of mine. I thought you might like to try something different. Or maybe have something for your contemporary lit class-"

She turned the book over and her eyes jigsawed back and forth over the blurbs and book summary. She took in a deep breath. "I don't know, Mark, this book sounds pretty intense. A little too...racy? for a class-"

Mark flopped next to her on the bed. "What? For adults? Are you insane? This book is excellent for exploring the themes of identity in the internet age and the whole concept of perception versus reality-"

She leaned over him and slipped the book into her bag. "I don't know. I'll give it a chance. We'll see." She put an arm over him and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for my gift-"

The Beach Boys' "Wouldn't It Be Nice" blared from her bag. She leaned back over him and grabbed her cell phone, looking at the display with a wrinkled brow. "Hello?" she answered. After a minute, during which her eyes widened so much that it seemed they may fall off the sides of her head, she finally spoke: "Jesus Christ! Yes, yes, I'll be right over!" She jumped over Mark's semi, her tits bouncing, and grabbed her clothes off the floor. She jammed her bra and panties into her bag, then took all of 5 seconds to throw on her blouse, jeans, and flip flops. As she slid her feet into the latter, she looked up at Mark, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"What?!"

Between chokes, she said: "My nephew. He's been missing since last night. Nobody's seen him. Not my sister. Or his friends. Or his friends' parents. I've gotta go over to Jenny's right now. She's about to die."

Mark stood up naked and faced her. "Oh, my God, Bette. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, no, you stay here. I'll call you when I get there." Quickly, she hugged him and threw another peck on his cheek. She grabbed her bag and glided out the door like a ghost.

When Mark heard the front door shut, he bent over and pulled up the bed skirt, exposing his duffel bag. "You aren't missing, are you?"