Page 37 of Dr. Sexypants

It was such a strange thing to suggest at midnight after I’d practically banged down his door and propositioned him, that it caught me off guard, and I didn’t know what to say. But as I thought about it, a milkshake sounded freaking delicious.

The voice of Cartman from South Park telling his mom, “Yeah, I want cheesy poofs!” popped into my head, and I found myself giggling as I proclaimed, “Yeah, I want a milkshake!”

He gave me a sweet smile and a wink. “Coming right up.”

Chapter Seven

Kristy

“Let’s get something straight,” Justin said as he scooped vanilla ice cream into a blender on the other side of where I sat at the kitchen island. “I am attracted to you. I’ve never been more attracted to a woman in my life. You’re gorgeous and feisty, and my dick gets hard every time I look at you.”

My ego appreciated that. Still…

“And yet you didn’t want to come inside tonight. Or get a birthday blowjob.”

He set the ice cream scoop on the counter and stared at me for a beat. “You don’t know how badly I wanted both.”

I leaned forward with raised eyebrows. “So why are you making milkshakes instead of getting naked?”

He sighed when he added milk, then chocolate syrup to the ice cream.

“Because in addition to you still not agreeing to go to dinner with me, I’ve got something to tell you, and it’s kind of a big deal. But I don’t want to tell you if you’re not interested in dating me.”

He didn’t give me a chance to respond before putting the top on the blender and pushing the “mix” button, then thirty seconds later he increased the speed, so it only got louder.

Which was just as well because I didn’t know what to say.

Finally, the machine shut off and quiet filled the kitchen; the only sound was when he opened a cupboard and pulled out two glasses and set them on the counter next to the blender.

Next, he opened the fridge, then peeked around the door at me. “Whipped cream?”

“Why not.”

He came back to the island with an aerosol can. “Sorry I don’t have any cherries.”

“I don’t like them with my ice cream, anyway.”

“Me, neither.”

We were both quiet as he poured the concoction into the glasses, then topped them with a generous spray from the can before handing one to me.

I didn’t hesitate to bring it to my lips, knowing full well I was getting whipped cream on my nose in the process.

“Mmm, this is really good,” I told him as I reached for a paper towel.

Justin, too, had the cream all over his nose and laughed out loud when he went for the paper roll on the holder at the same time.

His laughter made me feel warm inside. Here it was, after midnight, and we were sitting in his kitchen, drinking milkshakes and laughing.

“Saturday night,” I murmured as I studied the contents in my glass.

“What about it?”

I finally looked over at him. “I’m free for dinner, if you’re available.”

“Fuck yes, I’m available.”

****