that’s when you find one outstanding man. Kind. Loyal. Funny and smart, great in bed but not kinky. A lover in his head and in his body. A man who doesn’t think as a dick-obsessed monkey with a brain the size of a testicle, but one who is thoughtful and can hold his emotions in one hand and hug you close with the other. A man who is a hunky, manly man but who can talk to you like your best girlfriend, because that’s what he wants to be for you. Your best friend.”
Zena could get so poetic sometimes, so melodic, it cut right through the sarcasm. It was always a shocker.
She pointed at me with both hands. “That’s what I want for you because I love you, Sister Stevie. Now, let’s get shakin’ here.”
I sniffled. I blinked hard. I’ve known Zena for years. Everytime she tells me she loves me, I cry. I patted my touched heart.
“You’re such a baby, Stevie,” Zena whispered, then she winked, her frog swinging at me. She typed in two more passwords. “This will take a second. Damn, these computers are so slow. They’ve got condoms stuck in their hard drives. Maybe you’ll need a condom soon, too, Stevie. We can only hope. I hear they have condoms with stars on them now. Glittery, too. They have glow in the dark, that’s frickin’ hilarious. A glowing penis prancing about.”
I rolled my eyes. I could almost—almost—give sex up completely. I didn’t even like it that well. Nothing makes a woman more vulnerable than sex, and the criticism that comes with it when you’re not “good enough” is devastating. I should know. I am bad in bed, that’s what I’ve been told.
But I couldn’t help think of Jake Stockton. He could bring up some passion in me for sex again. Maybe I wouldn’t be bad with him in bed.
Maybe. But maybe not.
The computer screen flicked alive, and there we had it.
Double Chin’s mug shot.
He was a doozer.
Long history of arrests for drugs, DUI, identity theft, burglary. A court case for delivering drugs in and out of Central America was pending. Bankruptcy. Owed child support for four kids and alimony for three wives.
“Well,” I said. “Now we know why he wants adventure, likes Central America, camping outside, piloting small airplanes, fast cars, and needs a woman with money. At least he was honest about his interests.”
“Too bad neither of us does drugs. We could probably get a discount. Maybe he has coupons or something,” Zena said.
“Take me off the Web site. I beg you. I do not want to date and I do not want to do erotica or slippery toys. I do not want chocolate handcuffs in my bed. I only want a pillow.” I heard the clacking of high heels.
“That would be Crystal,” Zena singsonged. “Hey, Crystal. How are you today?”
“Shut up, Zena.”
“Aww. Now that hurts my feelings.”
“You don’t have feelings. Why aren’t you wearing one of your skull necklaces?”
“Oh, gee!” Zena pointed a finger up in the air. It was her middle finger. “I lost them when I was picking up sticks for you to shove up your butt.”
“Zena, you should spend more time working. Without a college degree, let alone a law degree, you don’t want to lose your job. You could end up driving a bus or something.”
Something flashed across Zena’s face. Fleeting, but I saw it: Raw pain. Crystal had smashed a nerve.
I stood up. “Good-bye, Crystal.”
“Don’t dismiss me, Steve. Sit down and work. I need the Compton file in ten seconds. On my deck. Clip clop.”
I have no idea why Crystal used the “clip clop” expression. None.
“Clip clop,” Zena said. “I hope you get the clap.”
Crystal glowered, then left on her towering heels.
A few days later at work I heard Crystal yell on full throttle. “Arrrgggh! Dammit, Zena!”
I peeked in Crystal’s office. Her desk was covered with sticks with a copy machine picture of Zena’s butt on top of them.
Zena is so darn funny.
We had more excitement at Poitras and Associates.
Seems that a local
Zena could get so poetic sometimes, so melodic, it cut right through the sarcasm. It was always a shocker.
She pointed at me with both hands. “That’s what I want for you because I love you, Sister Stevie. Now, let’s get shakin’ here.”
I sniffled. I blinked hard. I’ve known Zena for years. Everytime she tells me she loves me, I cry. I patted my touched heart.
“You’re such a baby, Stevie,” Zena whispered, then she winked, her frog swinging at me. She typed in two more passwords. “This will take a second. Damn, these computers are so slow. They’ve got condoms stuck in their hard drives. Maybe you’ll need a condom soon, too, Stevie. We can only hope. I hear they have condoms with stars on them now. Glittery, too. They have glow in the dark, that’s frickin’ hilarious. A glowing penis prancing about.”
I rolled my eyes. I could almost—almost—give sex up completely. I didn’t even like it that well. Nothing makes a woman more vulnerable than sex, and the criticism that comes with it when you’re not “good enough” is devastating. I should know. I am bad in bed, that’s what I’ve been told.
But I couldn’t help think of Jake Stockton. He could bring up some passion in me for sex again. Maybe I wouldn’t be bad with him in bed.
Maybe. But maybe not.
The computer screen flicked alive, and there we had it.
Double Chin’s mug shot.
He was a doozer.
Long history of arrests for drugs, DUI, identity theft, burglary. A court case for delivering drugs in and out of Central America was pending. Bankruptcy. Owed child support for four kids and alimony for three wives.
“Well,” I said. “Now we know why he wants adventure, likes Central America, camping outside, piloting small airplanes, fast cars, and needs a woman with money. At least he was honest about his interests.”
“Too bad neither of us does drugs. We could probably get a discount. Maybe he has coupons or something,” Zena said.
“Take me off the Web site. I beg you. I do not want to date and I do not want to do erotica or slippery toys. I do not want chocolate handcuffs in my bed. I only want a pillow.” I heard the clacking of high heels.
“That would be Crystal,” Zena singsonged. “Hey, Crystal. How are you today?”
“Shut up, Zena.”
“Aww. Now that hurts my feelings.”
“You don’t have feelings. Why aren’t you wearing one of your skull necklaces?”
“Oh, gee!” Zena pointed a finger up in the air. It was her middle finger. “I lost them when I was picking up sticks for you to shove up your butt.”
“Zena, you should spend more time working. Without a college degree, let alone a law degree, you don’t want to lose your job. You could end up driving a bus or something.”
Something flashed across Zena’s face. Fleeting, but I saw it: Raw pain. Crystal had smashed a nerve.
I stood up. “Good-bye, Crystal.”
“Don’t dismiss me, Steve. Sit down and work. I need the Compton file in ten seconds. On my deck. Clip clop.”
I have no idea why Crystal used the “clip clop” expression. None.
“Clip clop,” Zena said. “I hope you get the clap.”
Crystal glowered, then left on her towering heels.
A few days later at work I heard Crystal yell on full throttle. “Arrrgggh! Dammit, Zena!”
I peeked in Crystal’s office. Her desk was covered with sticks with a copy machine picture of Zena’s butt on top of them.
Zena is so darn funny.
We had more excitement at Poitras and Associates.
Seems that a local
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