When it passes, I stay where I am, chest heaving, letting the heat wash over me.
It’s not triumph I feel.
It’s relief.
Pure, bone-deep relief.
I get dressed in record time. Jeans, T-shirt, socks half-matched. I don’t even bother drying my hair properly. I just grab my towel, shove it vaguely in the right direction, and storm out of the bathroom like I’ve discovered fire.
Christa is in the living room, laptop open, one leg tucked under her, utterly unprepared for what’s about to happen.
“I’M FIXED,” I announce.
She blinks. Once. Twice.
“…Hello to you too.”
“No, I mean it,” I say, pacing in front of her like a man possessed. “It works. My cock. Fully erect. Not just a flicker. No false start. The whole bloody thing.”
Her mouth opens.
Closes.
Then she laughs. Not polite laughter. Real laughter. The kind that bends her forward and makes her clutch her stomach.
“You’re telling me,” she manages, “that you’ve just burst out of the bathroom to announce a medical breakthrough.”
“Yes.”
“About your penis.”
“Yes.”
She squints at me, laughter still bubbling. “Alright then. I’m all ears. What happened?”
I hesitate. Just a beat too long.
“I was in the shower,” I say. “Hot water. Steam. Brain did… whatever it does when you stop supervising it.”
“Mmhmm,” she says. “And?”
“And suddenly my body decided it had an opinion,” I finish. “Very firm one. Very… awake.”
She raises an eyebrow. “About?”
I shake my head quickly. “No details. Just… fantasy. General. Vibes.”
“Vibes,” she repeats.
“Yes. Non-specific. You know it doesn’t take much for us men.”
She laughs again, softer this time. “So your dick just… staged a comeback.”
“Like it’d been waiting for the right background music,” I say. “Very dramatic.”
She nods, thoughtful. “Well. That definitely needs celebrating.”
“Oh,” I say. “Does it.”
