Coconut Grove i'm in a b-boy stance, i'm not dancing

She chortled under her breath at his complaints, the place on her cheek where he'd nudged her still warm. Only when he made a comment about his dick did Bat look at him oddly. Normally, such a comment wouldn't phase her, just like walking up on Tristan with his leg in the air and his goodies on display didn't make her bat an eyelash. But it made a thought skitter through her brain and she found herself blasting a quip.

"Yeah? My whole ass end hurts. Did we drink too much tequila"—whatever that was; Jimmy had mentioned the name and the side effects of imbibing, mostly in passing—"and blackout bang?" She punctuated the jape with a playful snort and a wiggle of her tail, then began waggling her eyebrows for good measure.

But, of course, his junk hurt because he'd been doing some heavy duty marking and who knew why Bat's hindquarters felt like they'd been run over with a truck? Fortunately, she wasn't in so much pain that she couldn't contribute, which she proved by dropping a squat and sprinkling a tinkle on a rogue coconut shell that happened to be lying there.