Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms - Charles Austen [42]
She smiled and turned to the others.
“Well,” she said, beaming. “Congratulate us!”
And they did. Even though, technically, I still hadn’t asked.
Amidst the pats on the back, the hugs, and the ‘welcome to the family’ greetings to Mindie, Grandfather pulled me aside.
“This should solve all our problems, son. Getting it regular at home will make it easier on you in the office. Especially since you seem to be so undersexed anyway. Can’t believe I thought you were gay. You’ll have to explain that damned video to me sometime.” I had. Repeatedly. “I imagine it’s far more embarrassing now, eh? Being straight and all.”
He laughed heartily and slapped my back. I wheezed.
“Grandfather…”
“Best of all, there won’t be any temptation from the Ms. Nuckeby’s of the world. Money grubbing little tarts! I’ll write her a check. Get her to sign a waiver. This will all be forgotten by next week. You’ll be engaged, Mindie’s somewhat attractive, and has huge tits, and that’s the end of it! Right? Good? No more closets?” He laughed. “Of any kind!” He laughed harder and returned to the others.
No more closets.
I watched him a moment, sadly. Then reached into the group and grabbed Morgan, dragging him out of earshot. I asked how all this had come about, and between sucks on what seemed an endless supply of drooly candy-on-a-stick, he explained.
He had called my grandfather, as I had suggested, asking to be allowed into the Garment Viewing Room. After a considerable amount of time reminding Grandfather who he was, Grandfather turned him down flat. Grandfather said the last thing he needed was two perverts running amok among the models, to which Morgan informed him I was too nice a guy to have done anything untoward— although the actual word Morgan used was ‘skeevy’.
(I prefer, however, to use ‘untoward’. ‘Skeevy’ just makes your mouth feel dirty. So, in the future, anytime you see me use ‘untoward’ feel free to substitute the word ‘skeevy’ if that explains the situation more adequately for you.)
Grandfather told Morgan he obviously didn’t know me very well, and Morgan said, no, it was Grandfather who had his head…er…in the dark—and before Morgan could be hung up on, he told Grandfather, by way of example, about my chaste and unrequited love for Mindie.
This brightened Grandfather considerably and things moved rather rapidly from there. Grandfather called my sister Mimsi, Mindie’s best friend. Mimsi told Mindie, who happened to be visiting for the night, and Mindie, though cautiously excited, wanted proof, ‘even if it comes directly from the mouth of that idiot, Morgan.’ Grandfather called Morgan back and before long, everyone was invited for a meeting at Mindie’s a few blocks over on another of Epsoms’ Roads.
Morgan carefully explained how long and how deeply I’d been in love with Mindie, up to and including my abortive attempt to propose to her on the night of our prom. She was, of course, going with someone else.
As proof of my commitment, Morgan had produced the engagement ring from his car’s glove compartment, where it had lain undisturbed for six years, ever since Morgan placed it there during our long drive to the ER after Mindie’s prom date knocked me unconscious (He apparently took issue with my desire to ruin his chance for ‘prom night sex’ by proposing marriage to his date before the evening had even begun. I knew it might be a mistake in telling him. But I felt it the honorable thing to do. I lost a tooth. Mindie never even knew what happened. He never got sex. Chivalry in action).
Upon seeing the ring, Mindie gasped with excitement, fully appraising its full-market value to within a few cents, and quickly assessing its potential for being upgraded to a more appropriate style and design. Then one thing led to another and Mindie—apparently swept up in the emotion of the moment I was not actually present for—decided to come over and surprise