Page 12 of Patio Lanterns

She giggled. “Chop wood? That’s a funny way to say you rub one out.”

He exhaled a burst of laughter, stealing a quick glance at her chest. She’d caught him ogling a few times but pretended not to notice so she wouldn’t embarrass the poor guy. She was used to both men and women checking her out, and who could blame them for staring, really? Her boobs were simply superb.

“I have an academic theory about men and porn,” she said. “You want to hear it?”

He leaned over and topped up her wine again. “Enlighten me, professor.”

“Guys my age are obsessed with butts because of what they’ve seen online. Tons of ass play. Plus, of course, you can’t discount the Kardashian influence that caused the booty to pull focus away from boobs,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Meanwhile, older men, let’s say guys around your age who grew up with skin rags, still love nothing better than a pretty pair of titties.”

Looking rather flustered, Rick bypassed his empty glass and instead hoisted the wine bottle by the neck to take a swig. “Interesting theory,” he gulped.

This was going to be fun. She smiled at him. “I’d love to hear your opinion. Would you say you’re more of a boobs man or ass man?”

He cleared his throat. “Oh, I… er, well I can’t speak for all, but I’d think most men would agree there’s a certain appreciation for a… naturally curvy woman, no matter the proportions.”

And then he did it again. Fluffed her fun pillows with his eyes.

Boobs man. Oh yeah, he’s definitely a boobs man.

He tipped back the bottle and chugged the last of the wine, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow glistening in the firelight. It was adorable to see him getting hot and bothered.

“Getting back to your original question, I do get out once in a while. And if I’m in need of human interaction, I just head down to the store for groceries or to pick up my mail.”

“Yeah, that’s nice, Rick, but… you know,” she said, “what about companionship?”

“Like, a dog?” He nudged his head toward Mutt sleeping off his meat coma.

“Don’t be coy,” she said, not letting up on poking the bear. She liked stirring things up, and getting a reaction definitely made it all the more fun. “A good-looking, vital man like you. I don’t doubt for a second that below that denim and flannel beats the heart of a sexual beast. You must get cravings.”

A smile crept up on his face and his eyebrow arched. “Cravings?”

“You know, urges. Stirrings.”

“Now who’s being coy?” he said, teasing her back.

Ooh, now you wanna play, Rick? Let’s see how far you’re willing to go.

“All right, then,” she said, amping up her bravado. “Don’t you miss getting good and fucked?”

The air between them grew thick and engorged with sexual tension. He tried to laugh it off, grabbing the bottle before realizing he’d emptied it only seconds before. “Who says I don’t?”

“Out here?” she balked. “Who with? Old Mrs. Crawley at the general store? She had bones like matchsticks and hair like dust when I was a kid. God, that hot piece of ass must be at least a hundred by now.”

Rick laughed. “All right, so maybe opportunities don’t come around here all that often.”

Her eyes locked on his. “You mean, unless one shows up at your door and stays for dinner?”

Rick’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his thirsty gaze caressing her big, bodacious band logo. This time, it tweaked her nipples, licked up her inner thighs, and lit up her sex.

“Robin,” he uttered, his voice dropping an octave.

“Rick,” she replied. God, he was so irresistible she could eat him up.

“You know we can’t go there,” he cautioned. “I mean, we really shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“W—why not? There are plenty of reasons. Starting with I’m too old for you.”

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