He Cooks, He Cleans, He Scores!!

Spent the day with Von running errands and preparing for dinner. We spent three hours making his special spaghetti sauce. It was great. After slaving away in the kitchen we spent some quality time in bed and then he suggested we take a shower together since we’ve just dirtied each other up. I’ve only done this once, almost 10 years ago, and that was more out of necessity and a lack of time than anything.

Now, I enjoy showers as much as the next gal. I occasionally spoil myself with an extra long, extra hot lathering every once in awhile. But this was mind blowing. He shampoos and massages my head. He kisses me lightly as he rubs. Then he grabs the lufa and bodywash and scrubs down my entire body, kissing each spot as it rinses clean. It is taking all my will power not to attack him. Hands down the best shower of my life.

Vagina Jane shows up and we have a wonderful meal. We go to the bar and are having a blast drinking and playing darts. I’m kissing Von by the bar. I turn and see Smoke staring at us from near the bathroom. I shoot my darts and say hi. He grabs my arm and raises his eyebrows towards Von. “Who’s that?” I take my arm out of his grasp. “My boyfriend.” He looks shocked. “Since when?” I laugh. “You didn’t get the memo? Oh that’s right, since none of your business!” I haven’t been back next to Von and Vagina Jane for 30 seconds when my cell starts ringing. It’s Gloves. I don’t answer. What are they, telepathic cousins or something? Damn.

The bar closes early so we head to another that’s just down the street. Von, Vagina Jane and I are all pretty toasted. Most of our friends from the bar come down to the second one as well, including Sam and Smoke. Smoke continues to be an ass to me, shaking his head in that disappointed parent/teacher sort of way. I ignore him. Von and I go play pool. Apparently he is not too heartbroken about me though because he spends the next hour trying desperately to convince Vagina Jane that he could be her boy toy while her husband is away. Ha! As if. Poor Vagina Jane. How many times can you tell a guy they don’t stand a shot in hell without being mean?