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The Great Equalizer
The Great Equalizer
In a weekend of record heat that somehow transformed my lovely, caring, thoughtful life-partner into a woman I’ve named, Bitchy McAngrytits, the highlights were few, but notable. This story is one of those highlights (Because no one wants to hear about how hot Wifey thought it was, or what an evil bastard I am for turning on the Sun, or how my nefarious plot to plan my football game in Memorial Stadium at the same time as the Bite of Seattle cruelly forced her to search for parking far longer than should be humanly expected, and that I’m an asshole because it’s fucking hot. Let’s just pretend that part didn’t happen and focus on the good-shit, shall we?)
So, there I was, preparing to pay for my book at Borders, right? Anyway, as I handed the cashier my credit card and ID, she looked at the pictures on both before quipping, “Wow. You have a lot more hair now.”
I said, “Yeah, it’s pretty long now.”
“I like it long.” She smiled.
“Thanks,” I replied, cheerfully, feeling the blush rise from my neck to my cheeks. Fortunately, with darker skin, it’s not readily noticeable, unless eye-contact is made, and then avoided ,like in my case.
As she rang up my items, she continued our dialogue, ignoring the growing line behind me. “That tattoo on your arm, it’s really nice.”
“Thanks,” I replied again, sounding like a grateful child receiving a chocolate bar.
“Has it always been that faded?”
“No, I got it eight years ago. It use to be more visible.”
“I like it faded. Looks good.”
“Thanks.” Feeling the moment slip away, I added, “I… uhm… I’m getting another… soon. Several more, actually.”
“I really like the one you have now. It looks really nice.”
We exchange warm smiles and I will myself into not stumbling into anyone on the way to the exit. Wifey, who observed the whole thing, queried, “What was that all about?”
“I’ll tell you later, when we leave the store and she’s not still looking at me,” I muttered subtlety.
Outside the store, I nearly burst, gushing with the details, beginning and ending with the statement, “Oh, she was so totally macking on me! Did you see that?”
“Yes, baby, I saw it! Did you get her number?”
My smile disappeared. “Eh, well… no.”
I examined wife’s face for any tell-tell signs of jealousy or resentment. I found none, which was puzzling, given our past conversations on polyamory, and how we recently redefined our boundaries with more stringent rules to keep us happy in our comfort zones (More on that some other time.) “But you said that you’d feel better if-”
“I’d give you that one. That would be your freebie, should you work it out with her.”
“Are you serious?” My body tensed with excitement as I gauged Wifey’s sincerity again.
“Do you have one of your business cards?”
“Well yes, but-”
“Give me one!”
I fished a business card from my wallet and handed it to Wifey, who then scribbled my cell number on it. Handing it back to me, she said, “Now, go back in there, hand her this card, and tell her you like her and to call you.”
Naturally, I floundered with the decision to return to the store and make a spectacle of myself. She was attractive, but I was torn. I didn’t want to risk rejection, but she clearly would have been receptive. I didn’t want to risk that whole “stinkface glare” when I suggested that she meet my wife, but she clearly wasn’t hindered by the unmistakable piece of “bling” on my left ring-finger. I didn’t want to breed resentment and jealousy between Wifey and I, but there she was, all but strapping-on the jimmy and inserting my penis for me. The conflict was multi-faceted, and deeper than time would allow for reflection. There was only one way to resolve this.
“We’ll let fate decide,” I said. And with that, I flipped a coin.
As yes, The Great Equalizer. If the coin fell head’s-side up, I would take action. If tails, I shove the card in my pocket and squash all notion of gaming on the Hottie Borders chick.
As the coin cut through the humid air, I secretly willed that it came up heads, absolving me of any guilt for talking to the yummy lady. It would most certainly set this building knot of sensual curiosity in motion. I also secretly willed for it to come up tails, freeing me of any preemptive action, which has never been one of my strengths. It would also keep Pandora’s Box closed for one more day.
It was tails.
The grand experiment would have to wait another day. I’m not disappointed. I’m nothing, if not patient. If, and when it’s right, we’ll both know it, and it won’t feel forced, at all.
Damn, it’s HOT!
7/25/2006 5:52 am
This will be interesting as you continue your journey into this realm with wifey..........|
7/25/2006 12:54 pm
LMAO @ Ms. Bitchy Angryitis. It's been WAY too hot. In order to not be Ms. Bitchy myself, I have sworn off doing stuff I don't want to do until they piled up too much. |
So, how long do we have to wait to hear your redefinition? What about the insecurities that led to it?
You might want to know who to watch out for around here: Are YOU a Dirty Bad Man or Woman? !
Please tell me the secrets of your sex appeal Primping!
And a MUST READ: [post 2294897]
Just shamelessly pimping my own damned blog!
7/25/2006 1:45 pm
ARGH....making a note to tell wifey not allow you to carry change |
By the way AC here and.....oh nothing, LOL
7/26/2006 8:41 am
This story certainly makes me rethink a lot of fickle conversations with cashiers at various retail outlets of late. Many of them about age and such. Regardless, tossing coins has never been a favorite sport of mine either!|
7/31/2006 1:12 am
Dam I would not have left it to acoin. I would have took wifey|
advice hands down.
Ps Now your border hottie got me think about the author
of Black Erotica um hot-chocolate.