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I slap the bar in frustration. “That’s the thing with her,” I whisper, moving closer to Gus so the bartender can’t hear my sex crisis. I have a reputation to uphold. “I’ve tried everything. She’s heard me jerk the gherkin in the shower, I’ve had dinner with her mom and literal “boy” friend, and I’ve taken her on a picnic. I even let her use my femur as a sex toy after the Halloween party,” I say, and Gus scowls in confusion. I don’t have time to explain it, so I wave my hand. “Fuck, Gus. I’ve tried everything. I’ve eaten a bagel’s pussy and dressed up like jelly using a cardboard box. I don’t know what else I can do.”
Gus holds his hands up and widens his eyes. “Whoa, cowboy. I don’t have any idea what the fuck you just said, but it’s a lot to unpack. Have you had any head injuries lately? Inhaling too much oil at the garage?”
I slouch in my seat and drop my head close enough to the bar that I could lick it. “I want her. Sure, I’d like to go run a train on the redhead in the corner with you, but Savannah’s consuming my thoughts.” I jerk my head up and focus my eyes on him. “Do not ever tell anyone I admitted to letting one woman consume my thoughts,” I say, jabbing his shoulder. “I’ll deny it. Besides, this is just sexual frustration, right?”
“That’s why we should take the redhead to my house and burn off some steam. We’ve shared before, so who cares? You’ll be right as rain after a proper sack clearing. I’ll let you go first. That’s how sorry I feel for you.”
“Thanks, dickhead. How altruistic of you. But not tonight. Not with this cuff. I just want her.”
“You know what your problem is?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“You haven’t had it from her, and she’s in your daily proximity. That’s enough to make her consume your mind. She got in your brain, dude,” he says, pointing to his temple.
“So, I just need to fuck her and get her out of my head?”
“Yep, nothing gets a woman out of your mind like a good dick clean out. We get backed up if we don’t release frequently enough. We start having bad thoughts about relationships and monogamy and stuff when we’re offered the promise of a good cock cleanse. It’s terrifying. Don’t let it take you, man.” He grabs the collar of my shirt and shakes me, laughing. “Don’t go toward the light. Stay with me!”
I sneak a glance at the woman in the corner. She’s laughing at us, but her eyes only focus on Gus. Something tells me she wouldn’t be up for both of us tonight. She’s probably a one-guy kind of girl.
Like Savannah. She’s my virtuous, practically innocent, kind, brilliant, hard-working, loyal, beautiful librarian, and I’m going to give her a go first. Gus is right. I’m not going to take another woman home tonight. I’m committed to doing the horizontal mambo with one woman. If she doesn’t please me, I can come back to this bar and pick up a woman that will suck the soul from my dick. No harm, no foul.
“How do I get between her legs?” I mumble.
“You’ve tried romance and a bunch of other shit that you’ll have to explain someday.” He slaps me on the back and picks up his beer, the redhead already halfway across the room to come talk to him. “Try staying in with her and making a simple night of it. Nothing spectacular. No restaurant distractions or distractions in general. Just you, popcorn, and a ribbed condom.”
“Why ribbed?”
“For her pleasure, of course. Stop being a pussy. Go home, make your girl dinner, rub her feet, and get the head we all deserve.”
“A quiet night at home,” I mutter, but he’s already gone, meeting the redhead in the middle of the room and leaving me alone at the bar.
I can do a quiet night at home. I’ll make her favorite casserole, suggest a movie, and get her to cuddle with me on the couch. That’s something we haven’t done. We’ve been too busy with Halloween parties, restaurant outings, and our respective jobs and friends.
Easy enough. This will get her out of my mind. I just need to tap it once.
November 20- Savannah
“See, this is lovely,” Wilder says, pushing his feet into my face and cradling the popcorn bucket in the nook of his arm at the other end of the couch. “It’s called cuddling, and most people find it pleasant and warm during the winter months. In fact, I’ve heard that some people cuff just for this feeling we’re experiencing right now.”
I roll my eyes and click on Netflix, smiling despite myself. “Congratulations. You have me here in cuddle position. What do you want to watch?”
My voice coos when I ask the question, and it’s everything I can do to not lick my lips. I’ve never had a foot fetish, but his socks are clean under my chin, and he just got out of the shower, so he doesn’t smell like feet. The urge to reach down and lick a sock-clad toe is there, but I can’t. I’m still too shy.
Somewhere, my mother and Melissa are both rolling their eyes at my ridiculous behavior. A sexy man is with me on the couch. Sure, we’re facing each other, and I’m concerned that my feet don’t smell as pleasant as his, but he’s still on the same furniture. That’s a huge step for me, given my relationship history.
“The Christmas movies are out,” I suggest, and he smiles. It’s a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Fair enough. He doesn’t like Christmas movies. He didn’t veto it outright.
I click to the show and settle in, bringing a throw blanket over us as his hand settles on my leg. I freeze and focus on the TV, pretending to get lost in the New York City scene on the screen during the opening credits. If he keeps rubbing my leg like this, my panties will be wet and destroyed by the time the main heroine quits her city job and moves to the country.
I take a deep breath and focus on his feet under my chin. Wait, that won’t work. He has sexy feet. Fuck, am I so desperate that I’m becoming one of those women that lick toes?
“Want some popcorn?” he asks, still smiling and shaking the almost-empty bucket. He’s always nice to me, but there’s something different about it tonight. He’s nicer. More accommodating.
“It’s burnt,” I respond. My mouth is dry, and those two words are all I can eke out.
He shrugs and moves his eyes back to the screen. “I like my popcorn just a wee burnt. Not enough to stink up the house and set off the fire alarm. I think it’s perfect when it’s a little extra cooked by letting the microwave run a few seconds past the last pop.”
