Hell, I like that. I like that a whole lot. I start to bring her in even closer when she pushes against my chest to sit back down.
"Hey, I was in the middle of something. Get your ass back up here."
She wiggles her finger at me. "Uh-uh, you have to get those abs ready."
"What do you want me to do? Hop up on the bar and start doing crunches?
"Might be nice." She leans her elbow on the bar and props up her chin. "Kind of dreamy actually. Let's see it. Do some sit-ups."
I pull my jacket closed and turn my body slightly away from her. "I'm not some piece of meat you get to parade around. I'm a man with feelings," I tease. "I have emotions and needs. I'm not just on this planet to give in to your every demand."
She laughs, picks up the pickle vodka, downs it one swift swallow, cringes for a second, and then pats her mouth dry with a napkin. "Yeah, we both know that because if you were giving in to my demands, I would have had at least five orgasms by now instead of the one from my vibrator."
Holy fuck, Emma. Never in my life would I have imagined such a sentence coming from her sweet little mouth, but with every day we spend together I see a different side of her that I fucking like. Sassy, smart . . . sexy.
"I told you not to be salty."
"And I told you to fuck me. I guess we both don't listen to each other." She winks and turns toward the kitchen door just as it starts to swing open. Phillip steps out first, holding a towel in his hand, leading the march like he's the front man of a boxing posse.
In the right corner, we have Tucker Jameson, construction worker, and all around sex throb. In the left corner we have . . .
My mind goes blank as Floats Like a Barge Marge steps into view. Turning to the side to fit her shoulders through the doorway, a six-foot-five woman stomps-yes, stomps-toward me wearing a white apron, hair net, and white knee-high stockings. I gulp as she smiles, revealing a lovely gold shade set of teeth. With one swipe of her paw, this woman can flatline me in a second, and I'm a big fucking dude.
"There he is, the man of my wet dreams," she says in the deepest voice I've ever heard come out of a woman. Step aside, James Earl Jones, we have a new Mufasa in the running. She holds out her foot-long hand and shakes mine. "I'm Floats Like a Barge Marge. And you, my little dumpling are . . ." She releases my hand and squeezes my cheeks together with her man-claw.
Barely able to talk over the clamp she has on my face, with my lips puffed out like a fish, I say, "Tucker. It's a pleasure."
FLAB Marge-Floats Like A Barge, see what I did there-lightly taps my cheek and says, "Oh no, the pleasure is all mine." She rubs her hands together, looks down at my abs, and licks her lips. "I'm ready when you are." She strokes her jaw and oddly winks at me. "And don't worry, dumpling, I shaved this morning for you. This is one fresh face."
Annnnnnd, my penis just shriveled up inside itself.
I glance at Emma who, with tears streaming down her face and her hand over her mouth, is silently laughing. Once again, seeing her so happy has me by the balls. With a sigh, knowing this will make Emma's day, I lift my shirt up, close my eyes, and let Floats Like a Barge Marge do her thing.
***
"This is my wallpaper for the rest of my life!" Emma hugs her phone to her chest as we walk into another little shop on Main Street, Skaneateles.
"Laugh it up, pretty girl." I shut the door behind us and take in the eclectic store full of house décor, quirky kitchen supplies, and coined tourism gifts.
She bumps my shoulder with hers and shows me her phone once again. It's a picture of me with my shirt up, abs exposed, and a cringe on my face as FLAB Marge rubs her prickly face against my skin. Hands down, the worst ten seconds of my life-not really, but fuck, it's pretty high up there. I'm scarred for life.
"I'd rather not reminisce on what happened back there." I rub my stomach. "I'm not shitting you, I think she gave me beard burn on my skin."
"She did not." Emma laughs.
"She did. Ever heard of aftershave, Marge?" I pick up a wine stopper that looks like a daisy and then set it back down. Pointless crap, that's what all this shit is.
"Maybe we can pick some up and you can give it to her, you know, as a little thank you for the experience."
"And why the hell would I do that?"
She loops her arm through mine and rests her head on my shoulder. "Because you're a nice guy?"
I kiss the top of her head. "Not that nice, babe. Hate to say it but my time with Floats Like a Barge Marge is over. It was a one-and-done deal. She got hers, I got to see you drink pickle vodka, which you took down like a champ amazingly, and now the moment is over. We're moving on."