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The two men stared at each other. Assumptions were made, judgments rendered, dicks measured.

Jennifer Estep

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Jennifer Estep
Age: 25
Born: 2000
Born: January 1
Author
Writer
Men
Stared
Assumptions
Judgments
Measured
Assumption
Judgment
Two
Dicks
Made
Rendered

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I pulled the trigger twice, cutting off his protests, and Finn joined my lover on the floor.
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I will destroy you. No matter how long it takes, no matter what it costs me. I won’t sleep, I won’t eat. I won’t do anything but plot your downfall. I will mow down your men like they’re weeds. I’ll kill so many of them so viciously, so brutally, so horribly that no one will dare to work for you. And sooner or later, I’ll get you too.
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Are you coming along peaceful-like, or am I going to have to hog-tie you and put you in the car?
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Etiquette? What kind of etiquette was there in someone trying to murder me?
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Instead, I cut him. Not deep, but there was enough of a sting in the wound to remind him of what I'd done to the dwarven mobsters in the parking lot - and that I wasn't just some chick with a knife who looked good in black.
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And I was stuck here at Warrior Freaks R Us.
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You're just jealous. Hardly. Been there, done you. Adequate, but unremarkable.
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What was it with people always trying to kill me in the library? Nickamedes so needed to put up warning signs. Danger: Working here could be hazardous to your health.
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Jasmine smirke at the weapon in my hand. That little toothpick won't save you, Gypsy. Touthpick? Vic muttered in an indignant voice. “Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!
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I eat haughty, arrogant, manipulative, self-important bitches like you for breakfast, sugar. And then I go back for seconds.
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Keep the change, Gin, McCallister said in a smarmy, mocking voice. Consider it an early Christmas present. Aw, I drawled. A whopping thirteen cents. You're too kind, Jonah. Why, you'd put Ebezener Scrooge to shame with your bighearted generosity.
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Finn did what he always did when confronted by an angry woman—he checked out her boobs.
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Are you OK? I asked. I think so. Logan stared at me, and a smile pulled up his lips. But maybe you should give me mouth-to-mouth, just to make sure.
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Gin! Gin, are you here?” “Right behind you,” I said. Finn shrieked and whirled around. I winced at the high-pitched sound. “Dammit, woman.” He clutched the folder to his chest. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?
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I know that maniacal twinkle in your eye. You're up to something Gwen, he said.
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What did you expect? That he'd send you flowers and write you bad poetry? That dead Nemean prowler is pretty much as close to a stuffed animal as you're ever going to get from a Spartan like Logan Quinn.
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And that's when I snapped up my left hand and smashed him in the face with the hammer I'd grabbed.
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I might be an assassin, but never let it be said I wasn't as gracious a hostess as the next gal.
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I know that look. What are you up to, Gwen? What makes you think I'm up to something? The Valkyrie snorted. You're breathing, aren't you?
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Have I ever told you how scary it is that you think of heels in terms of their possible shiv potential?
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