this is dedicated to the BainsBane primitive, so as to illuminate her that women are not the only subjects of dirty minds. One hopes she enjoys it. franksolich gets objectified. The
femme was here Tuesday afternoon, and when putting something away in the second drawer of the dresser in the bedroom, suddenly let out a cry of surprise.
I looked at her as if Bozo from Outer Space; she knows this place like the back of her hand, and there’s no surprises around here, nothing she’s never seen before.
She pulled some things out.
Ooooooops, I thought.
“Oh, those,†I hastily explained; “they were Christmas presents from [a mutual friend of ours, who’d stayed here last summer]--â€
“
These?†she scornfully laughed, dangling five jock-straps in front of me.
“It’s okay,†I assured her; “as you can see, they’ve never been worn, and they all still have their tags on them, with the prices snipped off. I meant to give them away to Goodwill, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet.â€
“
These?†she laughed again, making me nervous.
“Really, I was going to give them to Goodwill,†I repeated, “whenever I got a boxful of stuff making a trip worthwhile. As you can see, they’ve never been worn--â€
The
femme examined them, convulsed with laughter.
I blushed. These were not ordinary jock-straps, the usual white athletic ones.
One of them had a miniature bull on front, for covering up what is usually a rather sensitive area of a male. Another, instead of a patch of webbed cloth, had a “see-through†net there. The third had a “fig-leaf†covering about the size of a dime, purposely
not made to cover up. The fourth was, well, just really skimpy.
The fifth had a shallow blue plastic “bowl†in front.
“I think this one would hurt, no ‘give‘ in it,†she commented.
“Hardly the sorts of things one puts on in a locker-room,†she said.
She was curious as to the “why†of the gift.
- - - - - - - - - -
Last summer, this friend and I were up in Vermillion, South Dakota, where she was giving some sort of talk on prairie soils, and as neither of us felt like driving way back here, we rented a room in a motel, with two double beds.
She’s a married woman, and I’m spoken for, and I wished to maintain decorum.
However, when she got into her bed and I into mine, she commented I was still dressed.
I pointed out that while she’d brought her luggage, since my coming along was a spur-of-the-moment decision after we were already barreling down the highway, I hadn’t brought any myself.
“Well, that’s okay,†she said, “but you don’t have to sleep in your clothes.â€
I took off my shirt and laid down.
“You can take off your pants too; you don’t have to sleep in your pants,†she said.
I hesitated.
“I’ve seen you in your underwear,†she said. “You don’t need to be bashful.â€
I hesitated again, and then blurted out, “But I’m not wearing any underwear.
“This morning, when the cats alerted me that [the neighbor] was coming up the driveway, I just grabbed this pair of pants and put them on. And so much was going on I never got around to putting anything else on.
“I’ve got nothing on underneath these pants.â€
She groaned. “Oh, take them off; I wouldn’t be seeing anything I haven’t seen before.
“You’re such a contradiction, uptight and untight always, at the same time.â€
So I undressed, and we went to sleep, she in her nightdress and I in my nothing.
Sometime during the middle of the night, I’d wandered over into her bed, but nothing happened, as I later assured the
femme. “She was sleeping closer to the air-conditioning, and it was hot.â€
- - - - - - - - - -
“I believe you, sort of,†the
femme said, “but really, is there
anybody who hasn’t seen
all of you? Sometimes I wonder. You’re forever wanting to both hide and show off.â€
“Well,†I dryly said, “do you want me to model them for you?â€
Putting them back into the drawer, the
femme said some other time, which both relieved and discomfited me.