Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms - Charles Austen [57]
“Staying where?” she asked, adjusting her tone further and turning up his stink factor to ‘sun-heated garbage dump’.
She stared at him a moment, and he withered under her glare, saying nothing. Then, slowly, she turned on me.
To me. Turned to me. This was my beloved fiancée, after all, not some vicious animal in Armani.
“Are you two idiots going somewhere?” she asked, cranking the ‘you stink’ level right past ‘cat vomit’, ‘baby diapers’, and all the way to ‘scorching summer in a New York sewer’ with a simple tilt of her head.
Morgan—finally getting wise to the fact that he was an idiot who talked too much—mumbled something about getting biscuits for the fish and quickly skittered off. Mindie folded her arms across her enormous chest, and put her weight on one leg as if to suggest— silently—‘You’re stupid, and I’m not.’
Some of you may be wondering why I would tolerate this kind of treatment from Mindie. Why I would put up with this kind of rude, controlling, angry behavior when just yesterday an attractive—and what you might call naked—woman was being so nice to me in a darkened, confined space. At this particular moment the thought was kicking me, rather hard, in the mental testicles as well.
But the simple truth is: this had always been my relationship with Mindie. It was the reason I felt comfortable with her and had asked her to marry me. Or considered asking until I was beaten up. She was, clearly, the domineering mother figure, and I the disobedient son who needed ‘shaping’. One might suppose it was because my mother had left me at a tender developmental age, and I was looking for a psychological substitute. I think it’s just because I’m a wuss, and Mindie has big tits. Never underestimate the power of big tits over a man who’s never touched them.
Actually, the real reason is—more honestly—because I’m a shy person with little social life who has not been allowed to date the women he worked with—whatever their breast size. Consequently, since I spend all my days either at work or at home, my options are severely limited. As you can imagine, very few available women just happen to wander through my living room looking for snacks. This means the only females of any kind I ever meet are coworkers or refugees from the occasional daring foray into online dating (from which I have been banned for the hairless chimpanzee incident— which I will not talk about since no video exists). This leaves me with almost no dating options, and a lot of time for masturbation.
In this kind of isolated social situation, men often rely on the kindness of female siblings to introduce them to their friends. However, being of the homosexual persuasion, my sister was usually already too interested in her own female friends to share them with me. Mindie was the one exception, because—through some strange quirk of fate—my sister isn’t attracted to large breasts—which I do not understand, and never will. The homosexuality I can ride with. But the breast thing…? Really. What’s that all about?
So anyway—for me—Mindie became a bird-in-the-hand kind of thing. Or maybe a not in-the-hand, but certainly within-reach-of-thehand kind of thing. In my entire adult life Mindie had been pretty much ‘it’ as far as available female companionship, and when it’s all you’ve experienced other than Mervin Wosserman, and the hairless chimp, you begin to feel no one else will ever be interested—ever— and you damn well better take what you can get while it’s right in front of you—especially if it’s got big tits.
I’m telling you: never underestimate big tits.
Because Mindie had accepted my sister’s homosexuality with kindness, understanding, and true friendship, I often hoped she might someday show me the same kind of tenderness—while letting me put my hands in her bra.
Said possibility was looking more and more remote.
“Mindie, I…”
“You made other plans, didn’t you?”
“I…”
“You forgot we were going to the chapel, didn’t you?”
“We…”
“You screwed up again. Didn’t you?”
“Actually, Mindie, these plans were made before last night, and everything was