Chapter 4

CHAPTER

FOUR

MARTY

T o make up for taking Dalton to look at a bunch of French buttholes, I decided to book him a singing telegram. Like, you could get one where a girl or a guy came to your door and sang a nice song and gave you a gift basket full of cookies. That sounded perfect. They'd be a better singer than I was, and, even if they weren't, at least Dalton would have cookies when it was over. And so would I, because Dalton's mama had raised him right and he knew how to share.

Also, after the butthole movie, I really liked the idea of someone else doing all the organizing this time—all I had to do was give them Dalton's name and address, and tell them the time they should show up. I mean, I probably shouldn't have made the call during my Friday morning English tutorial, but I'd nearly got it done before Professor Allen's angry TA started yelling at me. Then I got thrown out of the tutorial, which sucked, because I had some thoughts on As I Lay Dying that I really wanted to share.

"Hello?" I said into my phone, but the woman must've got everything she needed because she wasn't on the line anymore.

I shoved my books into my backpack and went to the library, since I was pretty sure I wasn't allowed back in the tutorial .

I spent the rest of the hour studying, because I was responsible like that now. And it felt like I was getting even more responsible by the day. Just look at the fact I'd done the grown-up thing and hired a professional to deliver Dalton's latest surprise. Sure, I'd picked ‘Cookiegrams' because the name was cute, but that wasn't the point. The point was, I'd finally found the perfect romantic gesture.

There was no way this could possibly go wrong.

I went over to Theta Phi that evening, and after supper Dalton and I went up to his room. We were meant to be studying, but we ended up fooling around instead. Things were just getting interesting when the alarm on my phone beeped.

It was time.

I'd been straddling Dalton, kissing his bare chest and teasing his nipples until he was panting and his dick was hard, but I broke our kiss, rolled off him, and propped myself up on my elbows. "Wanna go get a snack?"

Dalton's brow creased and he cupped a hand around the bulge in his pants. "What?"

"A snack. I'm really hungry." I slid off the bed and headed for the door. I felt bad leaving him hanging, but the singing telegram would be here any minute, and I didn't want Dalton to miss it. Besides, he'd probably be so thrilled with his gift that we'd fuck like bunnies after, so it wasn't like he wasn't gonna get off.

Just not right now.

"Dalton," I singsonged as I waited by the door. "Come snack with me."

He propped himself up on one elbow, and I could see the moment he decided it wasn't worth arguing. He stood, huffing out a breath and dragging his shirt back on. "You're unbelievable, you know that?" he grumbled as he adjusted his hard cock in his jeans.

"Thanks!" I said, and bounded down the stairs. I heard the thump of his bare feet against the wooden steps as he followed me down, and we arrived downstairs just as the doorbell rang.

I shoved Dalton forward. "You should get that."

He hesitated. "Is this another surprise?"

"If I tell you it won't be a surprise. But it's a good one, I swear. I hired a professional."

The doorbell rang again.

Leo wandered through from the dining room. "Anyone gonna get that?"

Dalton shrugged. "Me, I guess?"

He opened the door.

"Hi!" A bubbly blonde bustled in the door. She was wearing a hooded cape that came halfway down her thighs and high heels, and she was carrying a basket of cookies. I guessed she was going for the Little Red Riding Hood look. She stood in the foyer, looking around. "I'm here for Dalton?"

"That's me," Dalton said, stepping forward cautiously.

"Awesome! Where would you like to do this?"

Dalton's brow creased. "Um… the living room I guess?" He led the way, casting backward glances at me that very clearly said what the hell is going on?

The big living area was full of guys who were chilling after supper. They all sat up straight when the blonde sashayed into the room, and I didn't blame them. Those hips had one hell of a swing. Hiring someone had been a great idea. "Hi, boys!" She waggled her fingertips and flashed perfect teeth in a winning smile. "Can one of y'all get me a seat so we can get started?"

Four guys bolted for the dining room at once, and there was the sound of chair legs scraping against the floorboards. One of the first years came dashing into the room panting, and set the chair down next to her. "There you go, ma'am. "

"Thank you," she cooed, then patted the seat. "Now Dalton, why don't you sit yourself down?"

Dalton sat himself down.

By now most of the Theta brothers had crowded into the room, curious to see what was going on. Which was awesome because they'd all get to hear the blonde sing a cute song to Dalton and shower him with cookies.

Except that's not what happened.

What happened was the blonde pointed a tiny remote at her cookie basket, and ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me' started blasting. She unclipped the fastener on her cape and dropped it to the floor, revealing a tiny sparkly red corset top and mini skirt that were less Red Riding Hood and more red light district. Then she prowled toward Dalton's chair and circled him once before plopping herself in his lap. "Someone's been a very good boy," she cooed, "so Marty wanted to send you a sweet treat."

And then she ripped off her sparkly corset and shoved her tasseled boobs in his face.

I'd never thought of myself as a possessive guy, but suddenly I was striding across the room, because fuck, no. I tapped the blonde on the shoulder. "Excuse me," I said loudly, "but the only tits Dalton gets to motorboat are mine ."

Dalton escaped, diving sideways out of the chair and landing on his ass on the floor. He climbed to his feet and dragged his hands through his hair. "Marty! What the hell!"

"It was meant to be a singing telegram with a cookie basket!" I turned to the half-naked blonde. "Sorry, but like Dalton said, what the hell? I hired a cookiegram!"

She winked at me. "You sure did, sugar. And I'm Cookie!" She threw her arms up over her head and shimmied in a way that made the tassels spin merrily, earning a round of whistles and cheers from the rest of the guys and honestly, I didn't blame them. It was hypnotic.

I dragged my attention away and back to Dalton, who seemed immune to the power of swiveling boobage—probably because he was gay all the way. "I ordered you a cookiegram. With cookies , plural, not a Cookie. And why would I order you a lady stripper anyway? No offense, ma'am," I added to the still-swiveling Cookie.

She let out a tinkling laugh. "None taken, hon. I'll be honest, when you called I thought it was kinda weird that you were hiring me for your boyfriend, but then the call cut out and I thought, well, folks have all kinds of arrangements. So I figured I'd turn up." She lowered her arms and stilled her hips, and her boobs stopped spinning.

"Maybe I should have read the ad better," I said, "but I was in class."

"Well, bless your heart," Cookie said. "They do say it's the thought that counts." She picked up her cape and slipped it back on, and I heard someone let out a forlorn, "Aaaw."

Cookie paused and turned to the rest of the brothers, who were all looking at her with undisguised admiration. She cocked an eyebrow and blew them a kiss. She really was pretty. "Y'know," she said, flashing a smile at the guys, "I'm already here. If y'all happened to have some dollar bills..."

There was a sudden stampede of brothers racing to get their wallets.

Dalton walked over and slung an arm around my shoulder, shaking his head. "A cookiegram," he said, laughing softly. "What are the odds?"

He took me by the hand and led me upstairs, passing a stream of dudes clutching cash, and as we went into his room we heard Cookie exclaiming, "Well now boys, let's get started!" before the song started up again to a chorus of whoops and cheers. I'd already paid upfront, and now it looked like Cookie was gonna make bank in sweaty frat boy dollar bills.

And good for her.

Dalton turned and draped his arms around my neck and pulled me close for a kiss, and I returned it. "I'm sorry you didn't get your cookies," I said .

"It's fine. I don't need cookies."

"No, I'm sorry for me . I was counting on you sharing those."

Dalton threw back his head and laughed, and then we went back to what we'd been doing before Cookie had arrived.

I loved it when Dalton rocked my world—but I just wished I could give him the sort of perfect date that he deserved for being so amazing, and that I could get it right, just once.