Page 61 of Stroked Long
“Remember how I said I wanted to get a picture of him for you?”
“Yes,” he sighs. “You know I see him all the time, right? I’m well aware of what he looks like.”
I switch my blinker and turn right out of the grocery store’s parking lot. “Yes, but do you know what he looks like in his street clothes? Have you seen him in anything other than a crotch-hugging piece of Spandex?”
“Nylon and Lycra.”
“What?” I ask, slightly confused by his response.
“Most suits are made of nylon and Lycra, not so much Spandex.”
“Ugh,” I breathe into the phone, exasperated. “Technicality. Who is going to say nylon and Lycra when Spandex sounds so much better?”
“Swimmers.”
“You can be a real smart-ass when you want to be, you know that?”
“I do. Want me to continue?”
“No.” I chuckle. “Back to my story. Have you seen him an anything other than,” impersonating Bodi, I say, “nylon and Lycra?”
“I have.”
Blowing up my reasoning, I start to get slightly annoyed. “Of course you have. I’m going to assume you’ve seen each other’s penises as well. Tell me, have you kneeled in front of a bench with him, pant-less, cocks out, and laid them on top of the wood to compare girth and size?”
There is silence on the other end and I wonder if maybe he hung up. I mean, asking someone if they’ve laid their dick on a bench with another naked man might be going a little far, but if I was to be honest, I think it might feel nice. A little dick shelf while you examine your skin flute. Who doesn’t want that? Add that to my list of things I would do if I ever grew a penis. Lay dick on wooden bench. What a delight.
Bodi finally clears his throat and answers. “Can’t say we’ve ever benched our dicks together.”
“Have you done it alone?”
“Not so much.”
“Are you thinking about doing it now?”
A pause and then, “Kind of.”
A deep laugh bursts out of me from Bodi’s confession. Never in my wildest dreams could I ever envision Bodi letting his dick loose and resting it on a locker room bench just for the hell of it.First off, it would never be clean enough for Bodi.I mean, would any normal person do that? I can hear him chuckling.
“I would say take a picture for me but that crosses the line of friendship and goes into porno pals, and even though being porno pals sounds exciting, I don’t think we are there yet.”
“Yeah, not much of a sexter.” Clearing his throat, he says, “So, we’ve covered porno pals, penises on benches, and seeing Reese in his normal clothes, but how did you get soaking wet?”
“Oh right.” I stop at a red light and check my mascara-smeared eyes in the rearview mirror as I recollect my travesty in the market. “So I was trying to get a picture for you, you’re welcome by the way, when I leaned forward just a little too far and knocked over a display of two-liter bottles. Then they exploded all over me. The worst part, while they were whizzing carbonated liquid all over me, Reese had a front-row seat to my misery. He offered to call for a clean-up but I blew by him and ended up buying a box of Matchbox cars. You don’t happen to play with them anymore, do you?”
“Matchbox cars?”
“Yeah, you know, the little cars that are practically indestructible, the ones that are second to Legos in the old feet-crushing department.”
“I know what they are. I’m just wondering why you bought them.”
“Why else? Pure panic. I didn’t want it to look like I was staring at him. I had to keep my creeper status on the down-low.”
“You destroyed that status the minute you tumbled over the soda display. He no doubt knows you were creeping.”
“Why do you think that?” I ask. There is no way he knew I was creeping. I bought Matchbox cars, for crying out loud. If that isn’t a good cover-up for being in that aisle, I don’t know what is.
“Because he sent me a text about some girl who was creeping him in the grocery store.”
