Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms (29 page)

I
was too busy trying to catch a last, fleeting glimpse of the nude woman on the side of the road to hear or see Mindie, or anyone else for that matter. My first and likely
only
chance to view Mindie’s massive, untethered breasts with her full consent and witting approval, and I didn’t even notice—or care.

All I saw was
her—
the naked woman in the sunhat.

As we drove past, she was just stepping down, below the rise of the slope, her perfect face turned ever so slightly my way, and I knew before I saw…

Ms. Nuckeby.

Gloop.

My eyes went wide with shocked delight. I slowed the car and unbuckled my own belt, beginning to stand in the seat and trying to see over the edge of the stairs as Ms. Nuckeby descended beyond my view.

Apparently Mindie thought I was going for her exposed womanhoods and screamed, horrified.

“Oh, my God, you really
CAN
see their penises!”

With a wicked roundhouse, she punched me backward, and I fell over, landing on the steering wheel and accidentally jerking it hard to one side. The car lurched, skidded, and flew off the road, slamming into a tree at the bottom of a ditch. The impact sent Mindie flying with a shriek—ass over teakettle—shirt flapping, bra flipping, breasts flopping—into a small clump of bushes. Ms. Waboombas rammed into the backside of Wendy’s now vacant seat with a scream. Morgan and the pastor slumped forward, held securely by their safety restraints. Seatbelts really do save lives.

As the rest of us slowly gathered ourselves, ahead in the foliage Mindie lay moaning. All we could see of her were two feet sticking into the air, one shoe dangling from her toes.

“Everyone all right?” I asked, lifting my head from the steering wheel and checking for damage, either to me or the other passengers. There didn’t seem to be any. But after what I’d done to Mindie, there was sure to be.

All around there were general nods and groans as everyone pulled himself or herself together. I leaped from the car and went to see about my betrothed. I rounded the bush she’d disappeared behind and gently lifted her, as she was attempting to close my now buttonless shirt over her reattached bra. Once on her feet, she slapped my hands away.

“Get away from me, you disgusting pervert,” she said, then really laid into me, slapping my arms, face, chest, clothing, and aura. “Where did you learn how to drive, in a Cracker Jack box?”

“I think you mean, where did I get my
license
…”

Mindie goggled at me furiously.

“Are you correcting me?” she asked in a tone that would freeze fire.

“Not intentionally.”

She swatted my sternum, then winced and grabbed her fingers, massaging away still more pain I’d caused her.

“Are you hurt?” I asked, reaching out to support her.

“I’m
fine
. Leave me
alone
.” More swats. “Catch a glimpse of a few boobs and you lose
all
control.”

“What boobs?”

“
Mine!
The one’s you were
grabbing
at, you retard.”

“I wasn’t…” I stared, lost. I hadn’t seen her breasts, even in my peripheral vision
.
I was too busy looking at…

I tried hard not to show any sense of guilt. But she caught something in my eye and studied me like a lioness stalking a tasty gazelle with a limp. “It was
mine
you were reaching for, wasn’t it? Or were you going for that
slut’s?
”

Which slut’s? Had she seen Ms. Nuckeby? Not that Ms. Nuckeby was a slut—though she could be, I do hardly know her—but to Mindie’s mind, any woman who didn’t button her collar all the way to the top should be marked with the scarlet letter ‘S’.

“I…uh…” I stopped short, coming to the obvious realization that staying in port was likely the best course of action given the coming storm.

“As disgusting as it was,” Mindie continued when I didn’t, “you’d better have been going for
mine
, because the last thing I want is a husband who loses control like that over another woman’s…” she paused, “…you know.”

“I…uh…”

“Maybe that kind of thing happened
before
we got engaged, but I won’t allow it, now that we’re to be married. It would be highly disrespectful of
me
, you know, for you to be interested in other women’s…stuff. Especially some slutty, African prostitute.”

Aaah, I finally realized. NOT Ms. Nuckeby.

“Particularly if you were to become—
_aroused
—like that again,” Mindie continued. “I don’t want a husband who can become—
aroused
—by other women’s boobs. Or any other body parts for that matter.”

She wanted a husband who was gay? Given her level of sexual interest, maybe she did.

Wait. What did that say about me?

“I wasn’t looking at
either
of you,” I said. “I was looking at the
road
actually.”

“Really? And how was it ‘the road’ made your…thingie…swell up like that? Hmmm?”

I paused, thinking fast, or rather, fast for me, which meant we might be here all day. What could I say had caused it? Trees? Nature’s beauty? Two gophers humping by the side of the road?

“I, uh…that is…uh…” I glanced down at The One-Eyed Thing With A Mind Of Its Own, and realized Odysseus’ escape from the harbor had been blocked by the Cyclops. Soon, Poseidon would be involved. I saw no other course of action except to change tack, quickly, before my boat was swamped by Mindie’s boulders.

“I’m sorry, Mindie. I just…I couldn’t help myself. Your…em…your…
tits
…are so
magnificent
. They overwhelmed me. Took me completely by surprise. Unlike that woman…” I nodded toward Ms. Waboombas, who was digging a finger in her ear with one hand, while the other hand was shoved down the back of her shorts and scratching her ass like it had five-pound fleas.

Wow. Who would have thought
that
could be sexually attractive?

I hitched, a bit; as little Corky visibly reared his ugly head yet again, damn him.

Mindie gasped. “Stop that!”

“It…uh…can’t be helped…my…eh…my darling.” I glanced at her chest area, now covered in mud, leaves, and rumpled Corky-shirt, and she tightened her grip on it as if she feared I were a closet candy connoisseur who might suddenly feel the need to sample her white chocolates. “They’re just…
your
boobs, that is, as opposed to
her
boobs—they’re just soooooo nice, and…”

“Eeeww,” she scrunched up her face in disgust. “I mean, yes, they are. But, oh, my
God,
you say it like you’re thinking about licking them or something.”

And that’s revolting, why?

Before last night, Ms. Nuckeby wouldn’t mind my thinking about licking
hers
. Or
actually
licking them for that matter, I’d bet.

Bloop.

Mindie gasped again at my expanding crotch, then looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. They were all too busy recovering from the impact with the ditch to care what my penis was doing.

“Can’t you control that?” she asked.

“I keep telling you…”

“What do I have to do, Corky? Stab you with a letter opener?”

“Um. No,” I said, surprised, and wondering how often she’d considered
that.
“It’s just a natural reaction, Mindie. An unconscious one. All I have to do is think of…
nakedbreasts
…
your
…
nakedbreasts
—that is, as opposed to…”

She winced and turned her head as if I were trying to feed her cough medicine.

I sighed. “You just don’t understand.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“I’m a man, Mindie, and men can’t help but react to a…em…a loved one’s…you know—especially when they’re caught off-guard like that.”

“Caught off-guard? What difference does that make?”

“It doesn’t give us time to prepare. To think of baseball stats or ugly people with blemishes.”

“They’re just…
breasts
, Corky.”

“Oh, but they’re not. Your…
breasts
, they’re just so amazingly…” I glanced at them again, and she flinched again. “…Amazing. Really. Magnificent. So much better than anyone else’s.” I lied, struggling not to think of Ms. Nuckeby, then nodded toward Waboombas. “Especially
hers
. Yours are just so…”

My hands involuntarily cupped outward in the universal gesture for ‘massively endowed’, and searched through my mental thesaurus, which apparently contained only three adjectives.

“…magnificent—is the word I’m looking for, here—again. I think. And not pale. Not pale in the slightest. They’re like two very large mountains—with no snow on them. And when you revealed them that way, in the car—so abruptly—it was like when one drives into Yosemite, you know, through that tunnel? At first, all is darkness and obstructed, narrowness of vision, and then—boom! You explode out the end and see Half-Dome rising up, there, right before you. You’re just overcome with the immenseness of it. The glory. The not-pale magnificence of the thing. It was like that. Seeing Half-Dome. Only— in your case—Full-Dome. Or Full
Domes
. Because there’s two of them.”

“Driving into Yosemite gives you an…
erection
?”

“No!” I said, stunned at her thickness in things sexual. “Your
tits
do!”

I glanced down at them again, then quickly away, to reassure her of my inability to control myself.

“Stop looking at them,” she said, studying me and calming. “And don’t call them ‘
tits’
. It’s rude.” Rude perhaps, but clearly moderately acceptable if they were
her
tits I was enthusing about and not Ms. Waboombas.

“I guess I can’t blame you,” she said. “I did sort of lose control and expose them rather suddenly there. And people are always telling me that ones such as mine can have that effect on men. I just never
cared
before.” She glanced down at my crotch with disgust. I’d bet money she still didn’t.

“It’s just…“ I said, “seeing them
loose
like that. Wild, and free— and not pale, I just wanted to…”

“Enough,” she said, and held up a hand to silence me. “You really are becoming quite vulgar.”

She looked down at my crotch again, her face screwed up with loathing.

“You’re going to have to learn to control that, you know. I don’t want people seeing it every time you happen to think of my…
boobies
. You’ll be a laughing stock. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be if
father
saw you do that? For him it would be like it was for me the time I caught him having sex with the maid on the snack platter during my thirteenth birthday party. It traumatized me for life.”

She paused, looked off into the distant past and shuddered a bit at the memory.

“And even then,” she said, a sad, faraway look in her eyes, “they still served the cheese.” After a brief moment of melancholy she sighed, her annoyance with me returned, and she glared at me once more. “So learn to control it. Especially around father. You know he has a heart condition, and he doesn’t much like you as it is.”

“He doesn’t?”

“You know he doesn’t.”

“No, I really had no idea.”

“I figured you must have known by now.”

“First I’m hearing of it.”

“Why do you think he has your picture on his dartboard?”

“He has my
picture
…?”

“He invites all his friends to throw at it.”

“
All
his friends?”

“Your grandfather enjoys it especially.”

“My grandfather.”

“It’s improved his game immensely.”

“My grandfather’s game?”

“No, my father’s. Although your grandfather really does rise to the occasion.”

“I imagine he would.”

“No one’s ever told you?”

“That your father despises me and likes to throw sharp objects at my face? No. Somehow that’s never been mentioned.”

“It’s kind of an obsession with him actually. He mutters to himself about you while doing it.”

“Charming. So, how does he feel about our engagement?”

“He’s fine with it.

“You haven’t told him.”

“Of course, not.”

“Do you plan to?”

“Eventually.”

“While he’s walking you down the aisle? After we’re married? When the grandchildren are born?”

“Eeeewww!”

“Eeewww? Grandchildren are Eeeew?”

“Of course! Aren’t they to you?”

“Not really.”

“Well, you’re just not thinking it through. And father hates the thought of them as well. Though he expects an heir.”

“Which will be difficult to provide without procreating.”

“Don’t be gross!”

“So, for ‘dear old Dad’, then, what would be the upside of us getting married?”

She paused, thinking hard.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “But I’m sure there is one. He’ll understand. You’re the least irritating person who’s proposed to me so far.”