Fire Down Below

  FIRE DOWN BELOW

  Debra Anastasia

  Copyright (c) 2015 Debra Anastasia

  All rights reserved

  Published by Debra Anastasia

  Cover art design by Shannon Lumetta

  Cover Art Image: Patrick Foto istockphoto

  Editing: Jen Matera - The Write Diva’s

  Formatting by LJ Anderson - Mayhem Cover Creations

  Fire Down Below is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author's twisted imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  "I'd like to remove myself from this spam list." ~Teresa Mummert NYT Bestselling Author

  "No." ~Jamie McGuire #1 NYT Bestselling Author “Do not read her next book. Trust me.” Colleen Hoover #1 NYT Bestselling Author

  "I have not read this book." ~ Aesta's Book Blog

  "If this book is anything like her crazy tweets, then we are too scared to read it." ~ The Rock Stars of Romance Book Blog

  "Debra is the queen of s@!ts and giggles." ~ Tijan NYT Bestselling Author

  "Crap. Why won't you go away?" K.A. Robinson NYT Bestselling Author

  "You couldn't pay me enough." Tara Sue Me NYT Bestselling Author

  "You can't be serious." JM Darhower USA Today Bestselling Author

  "That's a big, tall glass of nope." Angie Lynch CEO and President of Shameless Book Club

  "This book is about as cringe-worthy as a raging UTI." Helena Hunting Amazing Author

  "This book gave my vagina nightmares for a week. What the hell was Debra thinking?!" ~Leisa Rayven Amazing Author

  "I like to read Debra's work on the crapper in case I run out of toilet paper." CJ Roberts NYT Bestselling Author

  "I've had the worst gas since I read Debra Anastasia's latest. Rip, full, wretched gas that singes my butt hairs on the way out. A week later I'm still walking funny." Kendall Grey Amazing Author

  "This cover gives me vaginal discomfort. Someone pass the Monistat." Tara Sivec USA Today Bestselling Author

  “Do not add to your TBR list.” Autumn Reviews

  “This book smells like grilled cheese and sadness.” Mary Elizabeth Amazing Author

  “Get me the hell out of this death trap! Um…NOPE. Whit is this crap? This is going to hurt. A lot. “ Christina Lee Amazing Author

  “I can certainly call is shocking and realistic.” Monica Murphy NYT Bestselling Author

  “Penivores and Vagitarians both agree. It made them vomit a little in their mouths.” Georgia Cates NYT Bestselling Author

  “I’ve licked assholes with more redeeming qualities than this book.” C.D. Reiss USA Today Bestselling Author

  “Never Again. Disappointed! And just like Tony, I don’t like to be disappointed.” Aleatha Romig NYT Bestselling Author

  “Enough to cause a burning ring of fire. Please Debra…just stop!” Belle Aurora USA Today Bestselling Author

  “How the hell is she publishing this?” Daisy Prescott USA Today Bestselling Author

  “The only way fire should be associated with this book is if it was actually on fire. Burning in my fireplace.” Jillian from Read-Love-Blog

  “Is she writing about hairy vaginas or explosive diarrhea?” Neda from The Sub Club

  “Who is this woman and why is she talking to me?” Tabatha Vargo NYT Bestselling Author

  “Who the hell is Debra Anastasia?” Bookish Temptations

  “This book caused my anus to grow a steel-plated hymen.” Shay Savage USA Today Bestselling Author

  “I’d rather #selfie on the shitter than read this book.” KD Robichaux Amazing Author and blogger

  “What’s the fuss about? Deb forgot to send me the ARC! I’m not bitter, I just love Aleatha more.” Kelsey from the Forgotten Korner

  “When that burning sensation lingers, get some cream on those fingers…Wait, this is a book?” Natasha is a Book Junkie

  "I might read this book if I wasn't so afraid of catching something." Tina Reber NYT Bestselling Author

  “Talk about a ‘douchey’ way to promote a book. I hope I didn’t catch anything from this book. I’m feeling itchy. But I can’t NOT pre-order.” Ana’s Attic Book Blog

  "It itches so bad." Ella Fox USA Today Bestselling Author

  "Can I un-read this? No? Do you have holy water so I can wash my eyes?" King Midian

  “You couldn’t pay me enough.” Tara Sue Me NYT Bestselling Author

  “A new level of disgusting.” M. Leighton NYT Bestselling Author

  “Debra Anastasia writes books?” Raine Miller NYT Bestselling Author

  “My love for Debra Anastasia burns stronger than a UTI.” Nancee Cain Amazing Author

  “Please do not subject yourself to this ungodly form of torture.” L.B. Simmons Amazing Author

  “Save your receipt.” Liv Morris Amazing Author

  “This book is filled with the stuff of vagina nightmares.” Season Vining Amazing Author

  “I wouldn’t read this book if you paid me a million dollars.” S. Celi Amazing Author

  “Is this the gas lady with the flatulence problem that can do the bubble tricks with her vagina?” Totally Booked Blog

  This one is for my family. Let’s laugh.

  This one is a Hail Mary. Or an Oh Shit. Maybe a How Dare She? Anyone that puts up with this story deserves a medal. Can you believe people actually helped me with this? Amazing.

  I’d like to acknowledge the following people and also apologize for adding them to this abomination.

  T, J and D the family legacy begins here and I’m sorry about that.

  Helena Hunting: I’m addicted to you and I refuse rehab.

  Midian: My fireball. You inspire everything all the time.

  Shannon: For your name and your friendship and your genius.

  Nina: Seriously. PS ILY and your vault.

  Erika: International Snogs

  Texas K: My stupid is home with you.

  Amanda: Baby showers and all the help!

  Alice: Filet you very much.

  Kiya: From then to now? We got this.

  Teresa: I’m having a turkey sandwich

  Jamie: The best no I’ve ever received.

  Tijan: Your gorgeous heart is my favorite

  Pam: Sisters rule

  Kelly, Lb, Sara, Lisa M, Beverly C, Denis, Patti, Alicia, Michele, Nancee, Pam, Mom and Dad (S&D) Uncle Ted and Aunt Jo, I adore you all.

  To my Omnific Family: My dreams flourish with you.

  Jen Matera: From standing on the platform together to now? Who knew cousins could do all this?

  Mayhem: Thank you for making this crazy story pretty.

  A huge thank you to my family, readers, bloggers and author friends. I’m the luckiest weirdo.

  Poughkeepsie Street team is the very best. I love you all!

  Crushed Seraphim

  Bittersweet Seraphim

  Poughkeepsie

  Return to Poughkeepsie

  Saving Poughkeepsie

  Poughkeepsie Begins (coming 2015)

  Shackled

  Late Night with Andres

  The Revenger (coming 2015)

  Fire in the Hole (Gynazule Series #2)

  Debra Anastasia lives in Maryland mostly wearing her pajamas. She is never going to reveal how many of the things portrayed in this story really happened to her. Her family consists of two kids, a husband, three dogs and the best cat in the world. In her free time she likes to procrastinate
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  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  SNEAK PEEK AT FIRE IN THE HOLE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CONNECT WITH DEBRA ANASTASIA

  SNEAK PEEK AT HELENA HUNTING'S PUCKED

  Dove clutched her second prescription in one week to her chest as she approached the pharmacy counter in Save-Mart. She hated getting any embarrassing drug filled. Specifically, medicines required for parts of her body below her belly button and above her knees.

  She even tried ordering personal items online. Her tampons and maxi pads had arrived in a covert brown box on her doorstep. She didn’t even have to look at the UPS deliveryman. Dove had peeked from behind the curtains in her apartment and waited until he was gone before she picked up the package. But her period was unpredictable and she was forgetful, so she had to do the period walk of shame damn near every month. Chocolate, something salty, and a box of hag rags gave her away to any cashier.

  Her first UTI had snuck up on her like a hairy little kitten. She never got urinary tract infections, but when she wound up crying from the burning sensation while peeing, she made an appointment with her decidedly female general practitioner. Dove filled her prescription for antibiotics at her friendly Save-Mart pharmacy, comfortingly staffed by discreet ladies. Dove vaguely remembered commenting on her pharmacist’s large belly. Mrs. Pills should be about eight and a half months pregnant as of right now.

  When Dove found herself battling a yeast infection due to the powerful antibiotics, she had to make a return trip to her doctor and picked up her current prescription. Now, as she got to the Save-Mart Pharmacy counter again, she waited patiently. She didn’t see Mrs. Pills. From the conversation Dove overheard between the woman’s assistants, she was now both a pharmacist and a happy mom to a healthy baby girl.

  Dove didn’t notice the gentleman tucking purple and white bags into uniform alphabetic rows until he noticed her first. She had no time to run with her prescription clearly in view. He unfurled his large frame and his handsome smile at the same time.

  Oh crap, kill me. Someone kill me dead. A lot.

  “Hello. Dropping off?”

  His voice should have been counting down the hits on some radio station. His green eyes flashed with friendliness and maybe a bit of flirtation. Dove swallowed hard and nodded.

  After an awkward pause, Mr. Fitzwell, as his nametag claimed, reached between her breasts to pluck the paper from her clenched hands. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow—possibly at her bizarre behavior—and smoothed the paper on the laminate counter. Dove wanted to crap her pants when he announced the name of her drug way louder than Mrs. Pills would ever mention a lady prescription.

  “Gynazule®?”

  Anything with the sound “gyn” in it would perk up people’s ears. Dove looked over her shoulder. What looked to be an entire football team of boys was gathered around a grandmotherly lady. They were obviously showing her their support in great testosterone-filled numbers. Dove was sure the woman’s problem was a lot more devastating than her own.

  All eyes were trained on Dove. She tried to curl her body into itself and turned back to Mr. Gorgeous McLoudypants.

  Dove whispered quietly, “Yes, that’s it. Thank you.”

  Mr. Fitzwell leaned closer to hear her. “Okay.” He seemed to want to engage in some more conversation. “Have you ever used it before? Because it’s a little bit different than your regular VAGINAL cream.” His voice just carried; it was like he couldn’t stop it if he tried.

  Dove let her hands grab one another for support. If she didn’t have a wall of teenage meat behind her, she would’ve run. She wasn’t exactly sure because her heart was pumping loudly in her ears, but she thought the supportive boys behind her were snickering.

  “No, I… haven’t used it before.” Dove wondered if she could fit in her own purse.

  He obviously was quite proud of his extensive knowledge of pharmaceutical products. He decided to spout the difference between “traditional” yeast infection creams and GYNAZULE®.

  “You see it’s administered with one dose in an APPLICATOR. It’s unique because it contains adhesive that will stick to your VAGINAL WALLS, as opposed to running DOWN YOUR LEGS. I think it’s called VAGI-GRAB®. But let me check.” Mr. Fitzwell ignored the large crowd and clicked away on his computer.

  Don’t check. Good fucks out loud. DON’T check!

  Dove thought the blush she felt on her cheeks might actually give her sunburn. She tried to be savvy. She wanted to be an empowered woman who tossed tampons around like confetti to just anyone, but she wasn’t. She could always try.

  “Yup. That’s it. VAGI-GRAB®. So, Ms. Glitch, any questions?” He turned his interested, trying-to-be helpful, sexy eyes back to her red, red face.

  Dove’s voice got quieter as she tried to think of something—anything—to ask. “Um. Is it unscented?”

  Mr. Fitzwell squinted as if he could turn up her volume by making his eyes smaller. “I’m not sure. Are you allergic to any types of VAGINAL medicines?”

  Dove’s mouth talking before her head could shut her up. “Uh… I need to use very gentle soaps because I have sensitive… parts.” Her voice was getting higher and higher.

  Mr. Fitzwell looked as professional as a brain surgeon. He clearly wanted her to have the correct information. There were definitely stifled chuckles behind her now. Dove was pretty sure her ass was blushing as well. The crack was sweating all on its own, like it was on a super high diving board about to jump.

  “Okay, Ms. Glitch GYNAZULE® is not a soap. It will not work if you put it in and then rinse it off in the shower.” He patted the prescription paper to emphasize his words.

  Oh God. We’re talking about me being naked, in the shower with cooter cream. Please world, end. Kill me.

  “I know it’s not soap. I just… if it’s scented… I can’t do scented. Flowers and stuff like that. Fruit-flavored soaps make… things… burnish.” She could tell from the peeks at his face Mr. Fitzwell had never stepped foot in a bath and lotion store, wanting to try the array of fun fragrances. Nor had he purchased Peppermint Candy shower gel, foamed up his nether regions, and felt like he had dipped them in lava. Dove crossed and uncrossed her legs at the memory.

  Mr. Fitzwell seemed concerned. “Okay, just a heads-up. It’s definitely not good to put any fruits or plant life near your genitals.” He made a V with his hands and formed his own pretend vagina in front of his pants.

  Dove covered her eyes and tried to defend herself because now she could hear the sickly older woman beating her supporters with a purse.

  Dove’s mumbling got louder with her embarrassment. “I don’t put weird things down… there. Just make sure that the cream’s vagina-scented. Just plain. For vaginas.” She kept her eyes on the counter.

  Stop saying “vagina,” you screaming asshole!

  The assistants were cooing and ogling pictures on the computer. Mrs. Pills had obviously forwarded images of her newborn baby to her coworkers at the perfect time for them not to come to Dove’s aid. Finally, Mr. Fitzwell asked her for her phone number and birth date.

  “You can wait right over there; I’ll have this ready in ten minutes. I’m sure the itching is horrendous.”

  Dove shuffled to the hard purple chairs and grabbed a magazine off the rack to hide behind. From the questions and directions he asked, Mr. Fitzwell was obvious
ly Mrs. Pill’s temporary replacement for her maternity leave. Dove peered over the top of her magazine at him. He was stunning and from the way smiled, he almost knew it. His jaw was like a stiff, hard cliff somewhere in Ireland. The kind on postcards. His Adam’s apple was like his throat’s erection. Dominant. He had the sleeves of his shirt pushed up and his forearms revealed. Veins and muscles. From doing stuff. All kinds of sexy, manly stuff. The assistants fluffed their hair when he wasn’t looking and pretended to pinch his butt.

  After the football team took care of the lovely grandma, Dove was as alone as one could be in a Save-Mart. Mr. Fitzwell looked over the counter while he was working to see if she was still there. Just before Dove could scurry her gaze away, she saw him look at her magazine and raise his eyebrows in surprise. Dove hadn’t thought to check which magazine she was pretending to be reading. She’d just needed a shield to hide behind. She closed it and looked at the cover. It was a copy of Cosmopolitan with large print over most of the cover:

  MAKE YOUR ORGASMS LOUDER, HARDER AND LONGER!

  Dove dropped the magazine like it was a snake that had bitten her.

  Fuck you! Crazy lady magazine!

  Dove wanted to cry. This was the worst twenty minutes in her entire existence. After all her semiclandestine feminine product acquisitions, she was facing everything she worked to protect herself against. And the drop-dead gorgeous pharmacist had witnessed it all.

  He knew her vagina was sensitive to products and that it was itching. Dove contemplated the magazine again. She wondered if she could actually paper cut herself to death while sitting in the waiting area.

  Mr. Fitzwell called her name. “Ms. Glitch? Your GYNAZULE® is ready.”

  She grabbed her purse and stomped over to the counter. He was smiling at her, ready to ring up her purchase. “You might want to grab some probiotics to go with this. Fight the infection from the inside and the outside.”

  Dove just stood and stared at him. She rarely got angry and certainly not over womanly products with a man, but she’d had enough.