Welcome to the world of Whatever You Want, a novel that turns twentysomething London into a fantasyland of endless possibilities. Play the game as Barbarella -- alluring, flirtatious, and sharp as the lash from a bondage whip -- or as Barnaby, with his insatiable attraction to beautiful women and danger. Armed only with your quick wits and social expertise to navigate through the minefields of drunken gratification, easy conquests, and ruthless adversaries, you hold the fates of these vulnerable heroes in your hands.
Should you dare to risk it all at an illicit casino or charm your way around a country estate where things could get up-close-and-very-personal? Will you fight to win back your lost loves or choose instead to have the time of your life getting over them? And when you've had all the fun you possibly can, do you have what it takes to make it to The Perfect Ending? Getting what you want takes more than a little agile thinking and social cunning ... Because life was never meant to be a spectator sport.
Whatever You Want
We Write, You Decide: A Pick-Your-Own-Ending EscapadeBy Timms, RachelReganBooks
ISBN: 0060591633Scene 1
It's the weekend. In that blissful state between sleep and wakefulnessa tongue nuzzles your exposed ear. For long moments youtake stock.
Who is she?
It can't be Raffles, your springer spaniel. She has nevergenerated such pleasuring sensations. The teasing little tonguehas all the dexterity of a nut-nibbling squirrel. And besides, Rafflesdoesn't knead your buttock at the same time. You feign sleep.Who is she?
The bar after work, beers sinking, taxi to Camden, strangepeople -- friends of Kamran. All unemployed aesthetes, mostlygay.
Is it a she?
Switch to vodka. On to a party. Small monstrous house,memory starting to wane. Vague images continue to flit. Theintense actress with the eyes? Flirting lesbians? Surely not. Notboth? Your brain flicks awake.
There was also the cute art student with the freckles and theupturned button nose, the pierced eyebrow, and the slightly lazyeye that made her look like she was thinking about sex ...
You can't help but turn, and with expectancy you open youreyes for the first time, smiling all the while.
Who is she?
No idea.
"Good morning" seems a little inappropriate, but you switchinto the fake Irish accent you use to counter embarrassingmoments. You kiss because it would be rude not to, but as you doa single thought grates across your brain: "Minger."
"I've got to go to the bathroom."
UgUgUgUgUgUgUgUgUgUGLY. Why do the ugly ones neverhave beds and houses of their own? A deft excuse and you couldbe home safe by lunch. But now? She had that grateful look in hereye. It could take hours before she decides to leave your nest, andyou have neither the stamina nor a sufficiently darkened room tosurvive that long.
Think, Barnie ...
First moral decision of the day. This should test your mettle. She'sa monster, no doubt about that. Her facial features look asthough they've been thrown on by a capricious Creator.
But is there anything more reprehensible, more morally corruptthan the cut and run?
Are you a rascally rogue? Use all your villainous cunning toescape. Go to Scene 219
Or a chivalrous knight (with low standards). Go once more untothe breach, dear friend, once more. Go to Scene 248
Scene 2
It is not Sarah Cox who wakes you this morning. It is not one ofyour regular houseguests. In fact, it is not anyone you recognizeat all. Not that you can really see his face, it's shielded by aheavenly spun mat of blond hair. His skin is acceptably bronzedand his hand is delicately caressing the small of your back. Youmaneuver yourself from under his arm, hoping that the familiarsurroundings of your room might give you a clue.
Oh God, this isn't your room. But that's impossible. You neverentertain away. Home advantage means makeup remover, abedside pint of detox drink, and no humiliating reverse striptease.But think this through -- where the hell are you? -- and who thehell is lying beside you? The decor looks suspiciously eighties. Butworse, you peek a proper look at your DiCaprio-boned Romeoonly to realize he's no man at all -- he's a baby. Barbie, what haveyou done? You have sexually inaugurated one of the new graduatetrainees; this kind of training wasn't in his contract.
It's time to bury your face in the pillow and stop breathing.Alternatively, pretend to be asleep while your questions areanswered. Who is he? Dave something. He joined the firm lastweek and was sitting next to you at the awards dinner last night.He impressed you with his knowledge of film noir and with thefatal line, "I don't think you're a real woman until you canmasturbate in front of your boyfriend."
What did he do? He bought you doubles all night, held your award, and then tempted you home with the promise of absinthe.What was the general consensus among colleagues? You'reparanoid about your age and need to corrupt young flesh. Didyou corrupt him? You certainly did, dominatrix. In fact, if you tryand move right now, every muscle in your body will protest. Oh,and look out for the bite marks on his left buttock. But you canfeel the back of your neck being kissed; he's gently coaxing you toturn round.
"Look, Dave, I really shouldn't be here. I'm out of my tubezone, and frankly, I feel uneasy." That was supposed to be a joke,but Dave laughs at you not with you.
"Barbarella, relax, the bus is totally reliable." He runs a hand upyour thigh and ducks his head under the duvet.
"Do you have taxis round here? I need one now, I need,need ... "
Enough's enough, Barbie; it's time to extract yourself from thisgod-awful mess. Be firm with Dave and make him call you a cabimmediately, even if it does break his heart. Go to Scene 235
Dave's twenty-one -- he doesn't know the meaning of the word"enough." Let him have his head. Go to Scene 114
Continues...Excerpted from Whatever You Wantby Timms, Rachel Excerpted by permission.
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