Cold Sweat

by Vera Valentine

A giant, sentient glass pitcher of cherry Chill-Assist punch, Red was the result of Dan’s torrid affair with a pallet of the drink powder at a drunken office Christmas party many years ago.

“Step siblings, Jules, and barely that. It’s not like we grew up together. I’m a man that happens to be a glass pitcher of liquid, not blind. You’re gorgeous.”

Red’s garish Hawaiian print swim shorts were tented so tight he could have hosted a circus between his thighs.