lady
and one of my regulars, came through the door holding her purse in
both hands and gave me a puzzled smile. Clary continued to glare at
me. “Why the HELL won't you go DOWN on your own WIFE? What, are you
afraid the BIG BAD PUSSY will GET you?” she yelled.
Never losing her smile, Mrs. Bentworth
performed a smart about-face and quickly made her way back
outside.
I backed away from the finger and sat down
on a stack of Tom Clancy books. “Can we talk about this some other
time?”
“NO! Give it up, Vince. The taste? The
SMELL? Some psychological BULLSHIT about performing a submissive
act and undermining your essential MASCULINITY? Because if that's
it then it's not working, cuz I've never noticed much masculinity
coming from your direction…”
Other customers were starting to come in,
either for books or the free entertainment. “Look, meet me for
lunch and we can talk then, all right? Nothing's going to change in
four hours.” She didn't respond right away, and then she nodded
once and left without another word. I breathed a sigh of relief and
regret before standing back up, straightening the stack and heading
behind the counter. An elderly gentleman stepped up.
Deep breath. “Can I help you, sir?” I
asked.
“So why won't you go down on her? You some
kinda fag?”
Unfortunately, when you work in a mall,
lunch usually means the Food Court. Privacy was not an essential
feature in its design, although apparently uncomfortable seats and
colors not found in nature were. Clary got away from her shop in
time to meet me in front of Chick-Fil-A. Clarisse is Nicole's
sister. Darker blonde hair, pixie nose, evil mind. I met her first,
as luck would have it, but as she was paired off with a friend of
mine at the time we settled into buddihood. We went through some
harrowing times together, watching each other's lovers come and go
with accompanying sarcastic comments until the day her sister came
home from school overseas and was introduced to me by her giggling,
whipped-cream-covered sibling (we had been battling). Clary worked
in the terribly trendy lotions shop across the way, a horrible
waste of her talents but I'm hardly one to talk and at least the
constant aromatherapy seemed to help calm her down. By the time she
joined me she was able to converse in a rational manner.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I sipped my tea slowly. “I don't know.”
“Oh, no, I need a better answer than
that.”
“I said I don't know. Doesn't mean I've
never thought about it, I've thought about it a lot, I just don't
know.” I sat back and looked at the fountain in the middle of the
court. “For some reason, whenever I start to do that I get all
nervous.”
“Nervous.”
“Yeah. My stomach gets all fluttery and I'm
afraid I'll vomit.”
“Vomit.”
“Look, it's not that I think it's wrong or
unnatural or anything, or even that I don't want to do it, and I
know it's not really fair since she'll go down on me without a
qualm, or not much of one anyway, unless she's been…”
Clary grabbed my chin and swiveled my head
around to face her. “You're babbling.”
“Sorry.”
She sat back and looked at me, either in
sympathy or scorn. “Have you ever gone down on a woman?”
“No.”
“Never even tried?”
“No.”
“Were you, like, frightened by a taco or
something when you were young?”
I stood up, faster than I meant to. “Dammit,
this isn't easy for me.”
She stood up herself and touched me on the
arm. “I'm sorry, it's just so hard for me to accept. I mean,” she
said as we both sat back down. “You're one of the nicest guys I
ever knew. Real considerate, easy to talk to, y'know. If Nicci
hadn't grabbed you I might've eventually, although I'd have gotten
you some better clothes. And I know you're not shy, and you’re a
major horndog, so I always assumed that you, you know, munched the
muffin. What's holding you back?”
I sat still for a few long minutes before I
answered. “I think… I think I'm afraid I
and one of my regulars, came through the door holding her purse in
both hands and gave me a puzzled smile. Clary continued to glare at
me. “Why the HELL won't you go DOWN on your own WIFE? What, are you
afraid the BIG BAD PUSSY will GET you?” she yelled.
Never losing her smile, Mrs. Bentworth
performed a smart about-face and quickly made her way back
outside.
I backed away from the finger and sat down
on a stack of Tom Clancy books. “Can we talk about this some other
time?”
“NO! Give it up, Vince. The taste? The
SMELL? Some psychological BULLSHIT about performing a submissive
act and undermining your essential MASCULINITY? Because if that's
it then it's not working, cuz I've never noticed much masculinity
coming from your direction…”
Other customers were starting to come in,
either for books or the free entertainment. “Look, meet me for
lunch and we can talk then, all right? Nothing's going to change in
four hours.” She didn't respond right away, and then she nodded
once and left without another word. I breathed a sigh of relief and
regret before standing back up, straightening the stack and heading
behind the counter. An elderly gentleman stepped up.
Deep breath. “Can I help you, sir?” I
asked.
“So why won't you go down on her? You some
kinda fag?”
Unfortunately, when you work in a mall,
lunch usually means the Food Court. Privacy was not an essential
feature in its design, although apparently uncomfortable seats and
colors not found in nature were. Clary got away from her shop in
time to meet me in front of Chick-Fil-A. Clarisse is Nicole's
sister. Darker blonde hair, pixie nose, evil mind. I met her first,
as luck would have it, but as she was paired off with a friend of
mine at the time we settled into buddihood. We went through some
harrowing times together, watching each other's lovers come and go
with accompanying sarcastic comments until the day her sister came
home from school overseas and was introduced to me by her giggling,
whipped-cream-covered sibling (we had been battling). Clary worked
in the terribly trendy lotions shop across the way, a horrible
waste of her talents but I'm hardly one to talk and at least the
constant aromatherapy seemed to help calm her down. By the time she
joined me she was able to converse in a rational manner.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I sipped my tea slowly. “I don't know.”
“Oh, no, I need a better answer than
that.”
“I said I don't know. Doesn't mean I've
never thought about it, I've thought about it a lot, I just don't
know.” I sat back and looked at the fountain in the middle of the
court. “For some reason, whenever I start to do that I get all
nervous.”
“Nervous.”
“Yeah. My stomach gets all fluttery and I'm
afraid I'll vomit.”
“Vomit.”
“Look, it's not that I think it's wrong or
unnatural or anything, or even that I don't want to do it, and I
know it's not really fair since she'll go down on me without a
qualm, or not much of one anyway, unless she's been…”
Clary grabbed my chin and swiveled my head
around to face her. “You're babbling.”
“Sorry.”
She sat back and looked at me, either in
sympathy or scorn. “Have you ever gone down on a woman?”
“No.”
“Never even tried?”
“No.”
“Were you, like, frightened by a taco or
something when you were young?”
I stood up, faster than I meant to. “Dammit,
this isn't easy for me.”
She stood up herself and touched me on the
arm. “I'm sorry, it's just so hard for me to accept. I mean,” she
said as we both sat back down. “You're one of the nicest guys I
ever knew. Real considerate, easy to talk to, y'know. If Nicci
hadn't grabbed you I might've eventually, although I'd have gotten
you some better clothes. And I know you're not shy, and you’re a
major horndog, so I always assumed that you, you know, munched the
muffin. What's holding you back?”
I sat still for a few long minutes before I
answered. “I think… I think I'm afraid I
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