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"Have you ever thought of going on a diet?"
I've been asked some strange things on a third date, but that one took me by surprise. Not as much as my answer shocked him, though.
"Yeah, several times. But it'd mean I'd have to stop swallowing your come."
Oddly, he never asked me again. There again, I dumped his sorry ass just a few days later, so while I don't have a clue whether man-juice really is fattening, he's probably still convinced it is. The idiot.
What I do know is, given the choice between having a wasp-sized waist and not having one... I'm going to stay as I am. Which brings me to Michael, a guy I'd known since college, when he was dating my friend Sue, and who always knew the right thing to say.
I liked Sue a lot. She was definitely one of the prettiest women on campus, a petite blonde with eyes you could swim in, and an almost boyish figure that was made for the catwalk. Tall with dirty blonde hair and an eye for trousers that were just this side of too tight, Michael was quite a catch as well, which is why they were so perfect together - nobody else was good enough for either of them.
Except, when college ended and Sue went back to Maine, I think it was, Michael stayed in town. We used to see one another around quite a lot, him with another pocket-sized blonde on his arm; me perpetually lost in whatever was playing on my headphones, and rarely catching anyone's eye. Except somehow, I always caught his.
Sill it was a surprise when he texted me out of the blue one evening, to ask if I was hungry. Seriously, that was it. "Hi, are you hungry?"
"Well, it is almost dinner time," I hit back and a moment later, "want to meet up at the Blue Cat?" Which wasn't exactly the fanciest eaterie in town, but they did killer burgers. And they had a liquor license. A booth in the corner, a low-hung electric chandelier, and a menu you could frame and hang on the wall. But we were halfway through our entrees and I was still wondering why I was there. Or did there have to be a reason? Maybe he just wanted an evening out.
Or maybe....
We talked easily, laughed a lot, and when he offered to walk me home I said yes, even though I only lived a few minutes away. And as I said goodnight and started searching for my keys, he suddenly kissed me, and that was it. By the time we reached my living room, just a handful of paces from the door, we both knew exactly what was going to happen next.
And then, "Do you still hear from Sue?"
I removed my mouth from his (very delicious) neck. "Not in a couple of years." I told him what I remembered from her last, somewhat anodyne email, and he frowned. "That sounds like Sue, always keeping things close to her chest."
"What little of it there was," I smirked, and he burst out laughing, clasping one of my own breasts in his hand. "Well, you could probably say that about most of the women in town." Which, I must admit, is true. He undid a few buttons and slipped his hand under my top. I undid the rest and shrugged it off, then reached back to unclasp my bra.
"Can I tell you a secret?"
I nodded.
"I used to fantasize about doing this."
I stared at him. "While you were with Sue?"
"Sometimes." His mouth closed around a nipple and, for a moment, we were silent; him sucking, me trying to process what he'd just admitted.
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