And he comes out to greet us from where he lays on the front porch, tail wagging, tongue read to swipe. She climbs out of the car and reaches down, bends to pet him, although not far because this dog is tall, lean, lean and fast. When she scratches between his ears, he lies down and rolls over.
“I know the feeling, buddy.” I grin and help her up. “Not much I wouldn’t do for a belly rub, too.”
She laughs and the sound is musical, like it has its own melody. My body tightens and I take a second to get my head straight before I let her go. Just the thought of her touching my skin, rubbing me…anywhere she wants, is enough to make me hard and this is the last place I want to be walking around with my dick at attention.
I lace our fingers together and smile. I haven’t done this before. Haven’t brought a woman to meet my family. Haven’t really gotten to know many women better than their inventory of sexual skill.
“This is actually my sister’s place.” I pull open the back gate and she’s trying to pry her hand out of mine. “Belle… what are you doing?”
“I don’t know. I’m dressed all wrong. My shorts are too short and there isn’t enough of my shirt.” She’s halfway between frantic and panic.
I pull her back to the outside of the gate and take her face in my hands. “Belle, you’re beautiful and you look fabulous. No one is going to judge you here. I promise.” I grin. “I’ve already told them you’re perfect.”
“So no pressure.” She lays the back of her hand on her forehead then uses it to fan herself. “I should’ve stayed home.” More to herself than to me, she adds, “What was I thinking?”
I hug her. “You were thinking you would like to spend the day with a guy who thinks the sun rises in your eyes.” All of a sudden I’m a poet. Or a guy writing song lyrics not even a bad singer would sing.
“Does he, now?” Her tension seems to be flowing away. Her shoulders relax, her lips twitch like she’s denying me the smile I’m working so hard for.
I kiss one corner of her mouth. “Oh, yeah he does.” Then the other corner.
She grins. “You say sweet things.” She bites the lip I just kissed. “I’m nervous.”
I nod. “I know. But you don’t have anything to be nervous about.” I brush the hair off her face and smile. There’s not much I like doing more than looking at her. Not that I can do in public anyway. Even the semi-public of my sister’s yard.
It takes her a second before she nods, glances up at me, and smiles. “I’m ready.” But when I turn away from her, she pulls me back and lays a kiss on me that’s so hot, it’s a good thing I didn’t go with the basketball shorts I was going to wear. My dick is straining against my jeans and I want her for deeply sexy things we can’t do here.
“Woman.” I’ve been reduced to caveman. Single words. Exclamations of gender only because I’m afraid to say more. Something oddly exciting is going on inside of me and until I figure out what this rogue feeling is, I’m probably best off to stick to the solitary word answers. Less chance I’ll blurt out something stupid.
I shake my head and grin down at her when she smiles. “Should we…?” She nods to the gate and I just want one more minute to look at her before my sister hauls out the photo albums and the stories of my wild and rebellious youth.
We aren’t inside the fence twenty-five seconds before Mom’s eyes widen and her mouth falls open. I don’t bring women here and I certainly don’t bring women who hold my hand. As we pass one of the open beer coolers, I stop and offer Belle one. She shakes her head. “A soda would be good.”
I put the beers back and remember a second too late that she doesn’t drink. “Sorry. I’ll get us sodas.”
“You can have a drink if you want.”
No. I don’t need to drink. Not yet anyway, but I haven’t had to have an actual conversation with Aunt Sal who sells sex toys in her spare time and randomly says things like, “You haven’t had an orgasm until you’ve had one with the multipurpose Purple Pussy Pleaser.” On occasion, she’s been known to whip one out for show and tell. It’s variable speed, has attachments. She’s quite proud of it.
Then there’s Uncle Rafe who used to be a Chipendale dancer and at some point will do the requisite groin thrust into Aunt Lydia–his wife, at least. My cousin Paul loves to talk about his job. He travels farm to farm and helps impregnate cows with bull semen. He’ll spend hours standing at the grill beside my sister’s husband musing if every steak on the grill is one of his.
Now that I think on it, a lot my family is involved in some sort of sexual occupation. I should prepare Belle, but now my Cousin Winelda–the one who’s recently decided she’s in love with TomCruise and is going to try to meet up with him on an upcoming trip to Los Angeles–has ascended and is hugging Belle like they’re best friends.
“I’m Winelda, but everyone calls me Winnie–like the Pooh.” She laughs. “You’re not a bimbo are you? Usually he dates bimbos, but he never brings them around. Has many a bimbo story, though.” She glances up at me. “Like the one who stole every single pair of his boxers and sold them on Ebay.” This is what I’m talking about.
“Win, Belle probably doesn’t want to hear about all that.”
Belle smiles at me over her shoulder and flips a wink my way. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
I chuckle. “You’re gonna like me less by the end of the day.” I don’t know if I’m warning her or trying to prepare myself. But I look at Winnie. “This is why I don’t bring women here.”
She widens her eyes then shakes her head. “You don’t bring women here because you can’t find any who want to put up with your ugly mug or your collection of Superman figurines.” She looks at Belle. “He used to wear a Superman cape and begged for the tights. Was devastated when Uncle Joe refused to let his son run around in red tights with his underpants on the outside.”
Belle grins at me. “I think you’d look great in a pair of tights.”
It’s the kind of grin I can’t resist and I wink at her. “I’ll show you mine…”
“Don’t get excited.” Winnie isn’t through with me yet and I suspect this is revenge for when she brought her boyfriend Cam last year and I told him about the YouTube channel she had when she was in high school–A Nerd’s Guide to High School. She’d had braced and acne and wild, untamed hair. And then I showed him the videos. It was revenge for her hauling out the picture of my seventh grade mullet to show my Hunter and Molly at the prior year’s Christmas party. “Used to call him Tiny when he was little.”
