Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms - Charles Austen [69]
“Wow,” I said, not sure what else to say. “Holy, wow.”
“You should go down and help her,” the pastor offered sympathetically.
“Yes,” I said. “I really should.” I took another sip of Coke, and stayed right where I was.
Ms. Waboombas retrieved a half shirt—one of mine, from the looks of it—out of the trunk of the Duesy and began drying herself off. As with everything she did, she made a show of it, and Morgan— who had popped another soda, and was drinking deep on all counts—watched her attentively. When she’d finished, she took a pair of filmy shorts and a half-shirt from her suitcase and—much to Morgan’s disappointment—put them on. The bottoms of her breasts still peeked out from under the insufficient fabric, and Morgan moaned a bit with approval.
Text across the shirt read—falsely (though I’ll bet no one complained)—100% NATURAL.
Returning to her seat in the car, she laid her head back and relaxed, smiling in the afterglow.
Mindie stepped up beside me, breathing deeply, her demeanor calm, as if she had just returned from a mildly exerting stroll to pick wildflowers. Very heavy wildflowers that fought back.
“Give me your shirt,” she said.
“What?” I asked, and then noticed her facial temperature rise violently. “Oh. Of course. Absolutely.”
I got out of the car, stripped off the shirt, and handed it to her. Ms. Waboombas cat-whistled. Mindie glared at her. I smiled, a bit, and blushed.
“I work out,” I said.
“No, you don’t,” Mindie snapped, and sneered at my lack of muscular definition. I covered myself, shyly, as Mindie turned away from me then wrapped my inadequate shirt around her massive breast area, stretching it across the muddy bra, grass, and effluent that still stuck to her skin.
“I…uh…I guess you’ll be wanting to turn around and head back now?” I asked.
Mindie sniffed. “Don’t be silly. I don’t believe for a moment you had sex with that slut.”
I was stunned. “You don’t?”
“Honestly, Corky. You couldn’t handle it. That woman would kill you.”
Waboombas nodded once in agreement. “She has a point.”
She does not!
“And after giving it some thought,” Mindie continued, “I don’t even believe you had sex with that model in the closet last night.”
I gasped. Ms. Waboombas opened one eye, apparently somewhat surprised by this. Morgan had kept a secret? What was this world coming to?
“Why not?” I asked, offended. Didn’t anyone believe I was capable of bedding an attractive woman?
“Oooh, Corky,” she said, as if the answer should be obvious— which it was not.
Mindie chuckled as she began buttoning her new Ralph Lauren shirt/dress, and moved to the passenger side where she smiled brightly at Pastor Winterly.
“Minister,” she said sweetly. “Might I impose upon you to switch seats with me? I’d like to ride in front, beside my fiancée.”
“Oh,” the pastor said reluctantly—clearly as close as he ever wanted to be to Ms. Waboombas. “It would be…em…my pleasure,” he said with an insincere smile and stepped out.
He moved, tentatively, to the back seat, where he climbed in with Ms. Waboombas, who pinched his bottom as he sat down. He shrieked, much as Mindie had done behind the bushes.
Mindie, meanwhile, took her seat next to mine. I stared at her a moment, rattled, waiting for some other shoe to drop (about size twenty-four, capable of bashing my brains out), but none did. She simply smiled at me sideways and chirped, “Shall we go?”
I studied her for a moment more, certain this couldn’t be all there was.
“Will you go!” she snarled.
Still nervous, and very afraid, I did.
We traveled a good long while in silence until we reached a fork in the road. To the left was the way to the comics convention, to the right the county of ‘Green Valley’, and the direction