“Lizzie Schmizzie. She’ll always be the Giggler to me.” I smirked, sitting on the edge of my bed and applying some lotion.
“Why do you call her the Giggler?” he asked, playing innocent, and I could tell he was on the verge of absolute hysterics.
“You really need me to tell you? Come on, even you can’t be that thick—never mind, walked right into that one.” I cut him off before he could regale me with how thick he was, indeed. I’d been pressed up against that very thick in a hot tub, so I was familiar. Kegel. And, thank you, another Kegel.
“I like messing with you, Nightie Girl. It gives me a chuckle.”
“First spiffy, now a chuckle? I worry about you, Simon.” I returned to the living room to turn off lights and get the place ready for bed. This included freshening Clive’s water bowl and hiding a few Pounce treats around the apartment. He enjoyed playing Big Game Hunter while I slept sometimes, with the Pounce, of course, playing the part of the Big Game. Some nights the pillows were unfortunately involved, as well as any hair ties, loose shoelaces, and pretty much anything else that seemed appealing around two a.m. Some mornings my place looked like Wild Kingdom had been filmed overnight.
“Well, no worries. I’ll pick it up when I get back. So, did you two have a nice chat?”
“We chatted briefly, yes. But no dirty secrets were shared. Although with the thin walls, I’m already a bit familiar. How is the lonely haremette? Missing her sisters?” I flipped off the lights and padded through the kitchen to fetch the Big Game. I was dying to ask him if he’d actually broken up with the Giggler. Did he, did he not?
“She may be a bit lonely, yes,” he said, in what I thought sounded like a careful way. Hmm…
“Lonely because…” I led, pausing in my Pounce-scattering.
“Lonely because, well, let’s just say, for the first time in a very long time, I am…well…I am…you see…” he stuttered and stalled, dancing around the issue.
“Go on, out with it,” I instructed, barely breathing.
“Without…female companionship. Or as you would say, harem free.” His words came out in a quiet whoosh, and my legs began a little shimmy shake. This made the Pounce shimmy-shake in their container, alerting Clive that his hunt had begun early.
“Harem free, huh?” I breathed back, visions of Sugar Simons dancing in my head. Single Sugar Simons, Single Sugar Simons in Spain…
“Yeah,” he whispered, and we were both silent for what seemed like months, although in actuality it was only enough time for Clive to claim his first victim: the Pounce hidden in my tennis shoe by the front door. I walked over to congratulate him on his catch.
“She said something curious,” I mentioned, breaking the spell.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” he asked.
“She told me that I was, and I quote, ‘quite lovely.’”
“Did she now?” He laughed, easing back into comfortable.
“Yes, and the thing of it is, she said it like she was agreeing with something someone else had already said. Now, I’m not a girl who fishes for compliments, but it would seem, Simon, that you were talking sweet about me.” I smiled, knowing my face was breaking into a pink glow. I’d started for the bedroom when I heard a soft knocking at the door. I walked back to unlock and open the door without looking through the peephole. I had a strong feeling I knew who was on the other side.
There he stood, phone cradled to his ear, holding his duffel bag and smiling a big, toothy grin.
“I told her you were lovely, but the truth is, you’re more than lovely,” he said, bowing his head toward mine and bringing his face to within inches of my own.
“More?” I asked, barely drawing breath. I know my grin matched his.
“You’re exquisite,” he said.
And with that, I invited him in. While wearing only my button-down. From far away, the O cheered…
An hour later, we sat together at the kitchen table, a decimated loaf in front of us. In between his frantic pawing, I’d managed a bite or two. The rest now lived in Simon’s tummy, which he proudly thumped like a melon. We’d talked and eaten, gotten caught up, watched Clive as he finished his hunt, and now relaxed as the coffee brewed. Simon’s bag rested by the front door still—he hadn’t even gone to his apartment yet. I was still in my button-down, feet curled beneath the chair as I stared at him. We were so comfortable, and yet that low-level hum, that electricity always sparking and snarking between us, continued.
“Fantastic touch by the way—the raisins? Loved them.” He smirked at me, poking one more in his mouth.
“You’re terrible.” I shook my head, stretching up out of my chair and collecting the plates and the few crumbs that hadn’t been inhaled. I could sense him watching me as I moved about the kitchen. I grabbed the pot of coffee and raised my eyebrows at him. He nodded. I stood next to his chair to fill his mug, and I caught him peeking at my legs below my shirt.
“See something you like?” I leaned across him to the sugar bowl.
“Yep,” he answered, leaning toward me to take it.
“Sugar?”
“Yep.”
“Cream?”
“Yep.”
“That all you can say?”
“Nope.”
“Gimme something, then. Anything.” I giggled, walking back around to my side of the table. Once again he watched me as I arranged myself in the chair.
“How about this?” he finally said, resting on his elbows, face intense. “As I mentioned earlier, I broke it off with Lizzie.”
I stared back, barely breathing. I tried to play it cool, so cool, but I couldn’t stop the grin sneaking across my face.
“I see you are not at all broken up by this,” he scoffed, sitting back in his chair.
“Not so much, no. Want the truth?” I asked, the grin ushering in a sudden surge of confidence.
“Truth would be good.”
“I mean truth truth, back-and-forth truth. No witty comebacks, no snappy banter—although we do give great banter.”
“We do, but I could go for some truth,” he said, his voice quiet as his sapphire eyes blazed away at me.
“Okay, truth. I’m glad you broke things off with Lizzie.”
“You are, are you?”
“Yes. Why did you? Truth now,” I reminded him. He regarded me for a moment, sipped his coffee, ran his hands through his hair in a maniacal way, and took a deep breath.
“Why do you call her the Giggler?” he asked, playing innocent, and I could tell he was on the verge of absolute hysterics.
“You really need me to tell you? Come on, even you can’t be that thick—never mind, walked right into that one.” I cut him off before he could regale me with how thick he was, indeed. I’d been pressed up against that very thick in a hot tub, so I was familiar. Kegel. And, thank you, another Kegel.
“I like messing with you, Nightie Girl. It gives me a chuckle.”
“First spiffy, now a chuckle? I worry about you, Simon.” I returned to the living room to turn off lights and get the place ready for bed. This included freshening Clive’s water bowl and hiding a few Pounce treats around the apartment. He enjoyed playing Big Game Hunter while I slept sometimes, with the Pounce, of course, playing the part of the Big Game. Some nights the pillows were unfortunately involved, as well as any hair ties, loose shoelaces, and pretty much anything else that seemed appealing around two a.m. Some mornings my place looked like Wild Kingdom had been filmed overnight.
“Well, no worries. I’ll pick it up when I get back. So, did you two have a nice chat?”
“We chatted briefly, yes. But no dirty secrets were shared. Although with the thin walls, I’m already a bit familiar. How is the lonely haremette? Missing her sisters?” I flipped off the lights and padded through the kitchen to fetch the Big Game. I was dying to ask him if he’d actually broken up with the Giggler. Did he, did he not?
“She may be a bit lonely, yes,” he said, in what I thought sounded like a careful way. Hmm…
“Lonely because…” I led, pausing in my Pounce-scattering.
“Lonely because, well, let’s just say, for the first time in a very long time, I am…well…I am…you see…” he stuttered and stalled, dancing around the issue.
“Go on, out with it,” I instructed, barely breathing.
“Without…female companionship. Or as you would say, harem free.” His words came out in a quiet whoosh, and my legs began a little shimmy shake. This made the Pounce shimmy-shake in their container, alerting Clive that his hunt had begun early.
“Harem free, huh?” I breathed back, visions of Sugar Simons dancing in my head. Single Sugar Simons, Single Sugar Simons in Spain…
“Yeah,” he whispered, and we were both silent for what seemed like months, although in actuality it was only enough time for Clive to claim his first victim: the Pounce hidden in my tennis shoe by the front door. I walked over to congratulate him on his catch.
“She said something curious,” I mentioned, breaking the spell.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” he asked.
“She told me that I was, and I quote, ‘quite lovely.’”
“Did she now?” He laughed, easing back into comfortable.
“Yes, and the thing of it is, she said it like she was agreeing with something someone else had already said. Now, I’m not a girl who fishes for compliments, but it would seem, Simon, that you were talking sweet about me.” I smiled, knowing my face was breaking into a pink glow. I’d started for the bedroom when I heard a soft knocking at the door. I walked back to unlock and open the door without looking through the peephole. I had a strong feeling I knew who was on the other side.
There he stood, phone cradled to his ear, holding his duffel bag and smiling a big, toothy grin.
“I told her you were lovely, but the truth is, you’re more than lovely,” he said, bowing his head toward mine and bringing his face to within inches of my own.
“More?” I asked, barely drawing breath. I know my grin matched his.
“You’re exquisite,” he said.
And with that, I invited him in. While wearing only my button-down. From far away, the O cheered…
An hour later, we sat together at the kitchen table, a decimated loaf in front of us. In between his frantic pawing, I’d managed a bite or two. The rest now lived in Simon’s tummy, which he proudly thumped like a melon. We’d talked and eaten, gotten caught up, watched Clive as he finished his hunt, and now relaxed as the coffee brewed. Simon’s bag rested by the front door still—he hadn’t even gone to his apartment yet. I was still in my button-down, feet curled beneath the chair as I stared at him. We were so comfortable, and yet that low-level hum, that electricity always sparking and snarking between us, continued.
“Fantastic touch by the way—the raisins? Loved them.” He smirked at me, poking one more in his mouth.
“You’re terrible.” I shook my head, stretching up out of my chair and collecting the plates and the few crumbs that hadn’t been inhaled. I could sense him watching me as I moved about the kitchen. I grabbed the pot of coffee and raised my eyebrows at him. He nodded. I stood next to his chair to fill his mug, and I caught him peeking at my legs below my shirt.
“See something you like?” I leaned across him to the sugar bowl.
“Yep,” he answered, leaning toward me to take it.
“Sugar?”
“Yep.”
“Cream?”
“Yep.”
“That all you can say?”
“Nope.”
“Gimme something, then. Anything.” I giggled, walking back around to my side of the table. Once again he watched me as I arranged myself in the chair.
“How about this?” he finally said, resting on his elbows, face intense. “As I mentioned earlier, I broke it off with Lizzie.”
I stared back, barely breathing. I tried to play it cool, so cool, but I couldn’t stop the grin sneaking across my face.
“I see you are not at all broken up by this,” he scoffed, sitting back in his chair.
“Not so much, no. Want the truth?” I asked, the grin ushering in a sudden surge of confidence.
“Truth would be good.”
“I mean truth truth, back-and-forth truth. No witty comebacks, no snappy banter—although we do give great banter.”
“We do, but I could go for some truth,” he said, his voice quiet as his sapphire eyes blazed away at me.
“Okay, truth. I’m glad you broke things off with Lizzie.”
“You are, are you?”
“Yes. Why did you? Truth now,” I reminded him. He regarded me for a moment, sipped his coffee, ran his hands through his hair in a maniacal way, and took a deep breath.
