My Soon-To-Be Sex Life Read Online Free Page B

stay with him until you’re good to go?” I asked, accepting the fact that no other alternative existed. Grace would end up divorce that much sooner if she took me in, and mom didn’t want me at Roach’s, wouldn’t want to be in debt to the bible thumpers, the self-righteous.
    And so I moved in with Monty.
    He wouldn’t let me call him Grandpa.

Chapter Four
    A few hours into my existence at Monty’s House of Bores and I was already stir crazy. I stalked the small bungalow like a shark stuck in a guppy tank.
    There was nothing to cut my teeth on. Except maybe…
    â€œHey, is this an instant camera?” I scooped the rectangular box up in eager hands, twisting it this way and that. “Man, this thing is old. Like from the 80s.”
    â€œThat happens to be a 1977 Polaroid special, young lady. Treat it with respect.” Monty made one swipe for the vintage camera, but I shifted out of reach. “Careful you don’t drop it.”
    â€œI won’t. I just want to check it out.” The camera had just been lying there on the kitchen table. Alone. Abandoned. Fair game as far as I was concerned. “I’ve never seen one of these before. So you just focus…” I pointed the camera at Monty, who immediately put fingers up on either side of his head like devil’s horns. Laughing, I adjusted the black focus wheel thingy. “Take a shot…” I pressed the faded orange button. “And out pops the picture, right?”
    Hum.
    Whirl. Chug. Grind.
    A three by four slide emerged from the front of the camera like it was blowing a raspberry. I angled the camera to get a better look. Nothing but a black square framed by that trademark Polaroid white boarder.
    I made a face. “So much for instant .”
    â€œGive it a few seconds.” Monty snatched the photo before it could fall to the floor. He waved it in the air. “A little of this and,” he held up the photo, “there she goes.” Swirls of color began to spread across the film.
    â€œThat is so cool.” And it was. The bonus? The awkwardness and strained silences we’d been slipping into since I’d arrived were gone. Monty’s wrinkled face gradually appeared on the film. I moved closer to watch the process, conscious that for the first time, I felt halfway comfortable in his presence.
    â€œYou have a camera?” Monty squinted at the film.
    â€œOn my phone.” I shrugged. “It takes decent pictures and I play around with apps to crank them up.”
    Monty frowned. Clearly, I was talking over his head. Pretty obvious after the quick tour of the place he’d given me, Monty was not of the tech world. No computer in sight and he had an old school rotary phone that sat within a special cutout in the main hallway.
    â€œYou use different effects to make them look better.” I explained. “Make the colors pop, add text, that sort of thing. Photography is fun, and I dabble in film, but I’m more of a writer. A screenwriter, really. I want to see my characters come to life on the big screen.”
    Monty raised a brow. “Movies are moving pictures. Seems to me you should focus on what you’re good at. If you have to crank your pictures up, they’re probably not good to begin with. Better stick with the writing.”
    I gaped at him, shocked at his bluntness. He shoved the completed photo at me and in the same movement, plucked the camera from my grip.
    â€œBut if you do want to snap a few rounds, this stays here.” Monty placed the camera back on the kitchen table. “So we can both find it easy.” He nodded to a drawer by the fridge. “There’s more film in there, but don’t go wasting it. That stuff’s expensive and hard to come by.”
    I opened the drawer, curious about the film, wondering just what kind of effects you could get if you mucked around with the development stage. Inside were a few