She quirked her mouth to the side and squeezed her eyes shut. “I . . . um . . . I sort of googled you.” My eyebrows furrowed, not quite understanding where she was going with this. “All those women you dated were so beautiful and so perfect.” I nodded in understanding, knowing where this was headed. “I’m just . . . I’m just a mom, Jason,” she said. “My boobs aren’t perky. My stomach isn’t flat. I’m just . . . just . . .”
“You’re just you, Addison,” I said, lifting her chin to look into my eyes. “I have been dying to get my hands on your mom body since the day I met you.” She didn’t look convinced.
“Let me show you something,” I said, pulling away from her and taking my shoes and socks off.
“What are you doing?” she asked as I yanked off my tie and cumber bun, throwing them to the side. The jacket had been lost somewhere in the living room during our tour.
“You’re worried about your body not being perfect, right?” I asked her, unbuttoning my shirt and cufflinks. She bit her bottom lip and nodded, blushing slightly. I lost the shirt and yanked my undershirt over my head.
“Look at me,” I said. She looked right in my eyes. I smiled. “Not my eyes, babe. Look at my body.”
She smirked as her gaze ran down my chest to my stomach and everything in between.
“What do you see?” I asked her.
“Um . . . I see a really sexy man,” she said, looking back in my eyes.
“Uh huh . . . but what about me is sexy?” I asked, trying to make a point.
“Your arms really turn me on,” she admitted. “And your shoulders. And probably your back even though I haven’t seen it yet.”
I smiled at that. “But do you see any washboard abs like those male models have?”
She looked at my stomach but didn’t say anything.
“Do you see that ‘V’ that women talk about? You know . . . the one on a guy’s hips that supposedly point to the goods?”
She cracked a smile but didn’t say anything.
“I don’t have any of that. My body isn’t made that way. I work out every single day and I’m probably stronger than most of the guys in those pictures. But my body isn’t built to look like that,” I said. “I’m more like . . . a square. Like Spongebob Squarepants.”
A smile crossed her lips. “You’re sexy to me,” she said shyly.
I nodded. “Exactly.” I walked toward her and cupped her face in my hands. “You are the sexiest, most beautiful woman I have ever met in my life. Just knowing you are standing here in my bedroom is the biggest turn-on.”
She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed me. I put one hand on the back of her neck to pull her mouth closer to mine and used the other to find the zipper on the back of her dress and pull it down. When my hands pulled the dress forward so it could fall off of her onto the floor, I finally broke away from the kiss to have my first look at this beautiful woman’s body.
It was not what I expected.
“What the hell is that?” I asked, looking down and around her.
She giggled. “It’s my Spanx. It uh . . . smoothed out all my bumps since the dress was so fitted.”
I groaned into her neck. “It is taking me way too long to get you naked.”
She laughed and put her arms around me. “Trust me, it is taking way too long to get naked. You thought yellow banana tights were bad. These suckers might be a necessity for fashion, but they are torture to wear.”
I pulled back, newly invigorated by her challenge. “So let’s get them off you.”
I tried to gently move the straps to the side of her shoulders and down her arms. But I found out the hard way, there is no gentle way to get someone out of these things.
“How did you get these things on?” I grunted as I helped her lay down on the bed so I could get some good leverage to yank them off.
“It took about twenty minutes. That’s why I was running late when you got there,” she said, lifting her hips to try and help me, but it was still slow going. “Once they’re on, they’re on, so hurry up. I haven’t been able to use the bathroom all night.”
I laughed as I tried for one last big tug. The Spanx finally slid down her thighs and I held them up. I swear, once they were off, they shrunk to the size of something only a baby could fit into.
“Why in the hell would women do this to themselves?” I asked myself out loud. Addison just laughed and jumped off the bed, heading toward the bathroom.
“It’s all in the name of fashion and attracting a man,” she said through the closed door.
“Honestly, babe,” I said as I chucked my pants to the side, leaving me only in my boxer briefs, and climbed on the bed to lay on my side, “they are a total mood killer when you are trying to peel your woman out of a dress.”