Cold Sweat

by Vera Valentine

he rocked the same cut-off blue jeans, the same white sneakers, the same fluttering Hawaiian button-up open over his smooth, rounded stomach every day. On anyone else, it’d look ridiculous, but somehow Red’s nuclear-level confidence made the garish outfit make sense.

one of his rare days off from his under-the-table demolition job.

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.

I’m a man that happens to be a glass pitcher of liquid,

My brows shot up as a hint of unmistakable cherry flavor trickled down my tongue a few minutes later, thick and syrupy and delicious.

“I swell when I come, Jules, so be ready for it. You’re a tight fit but you’re going to take it all, aren’t you? Gonna fill you up to the top…my good little cup…”

“That’s right, Jules. Suck me down like the thirsty little cup you are.”