Page 32 of Goose

Wearing a smile of accomplishment, she nodded toward the incident in question. “Is it getting any better?”

“It is now that we’re talking,” I said. “Just keep talking.”

“It doesn’t like talking?”

“My dick?” I chuckled. “No, it hates talking. Talking bores it.”

She laughed a dry laugh. “But my hair up excites it?”

“Apparently.”

She reached for her bun, unraveled it, and then shook her hair down over her shoulders. “Better?”

It began to recede. I conjured up an image of a coast to coast trip in her Volkswagen. The reaction was instantaneous.

I reached for my coffee. “It’s headed in the right direction.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

A few seconds later, I’d succeeded. I rested my forearms against the table and wrung my hands together. “There. All better.”

She scrunched her nose. “Dicks are weird.”

They were. She should try having one. I laughed. “Tell me about it.”

Lawson reached over her shoulder and handed her a glass of milk. “Here you go. Food will be just a bit.”

She flashed him a smile. “Thank you.”

When he was gone, she sipped her milk. “Do you control it, or does it control you?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” I responded. “I don’t know.”

“Well, look at it this way. When it gets excited, do you react? Or does it react when you get excited.”

I’d never given it much thought. After she’d mentioned it, I found it amusing. I made decisions based on what my cock was doing. When it got hard, I reacted. There was no two ways about it, my dick led me in the direction it wanted me to go.

“I think it’s always dick first, me second,” I admitted.

“So, if I wouldn’t have let my hair down, you would have been forced to react?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I would have left my hair up, you would have stayed aroused. Sitting there with a stiff dick, you would have been forced to react, right?”

“React or leave,” I said. “Or be in agony, I guess.”

“Which would you have done?”

“I’d have probably left,” I said in a dry tone.

“Oh really?” She lowered her chin and gave me a look like I’d told the lie of the century. “You’d have left?”

I fought to remain straight-faced. “Probably.”

“Probably, huh?” She wagged her head from side to side mockingly. “I think you’re full of shit.”

I took a sip of coffee and shrugged. “Everyone’s got an opinion.”