Page 14 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“I texted you a few weeks ago,” he said, remaining on the floor with his eyes closed.
“You texted that change was in the air. I figured you were high. You didn’t say anything about moving out today,” she replied, her heart hammering in her chest.
“This is what I meant when I said change. You were a caterpillar, Libby, but now you’re a butterfly. It’s time to spread your wings and leave the cocoon.”
As much as she loved a good butterfly analogy, this didn’t make any sense.
“Why do you need me out so soon?” she pressed.
“My great aunt Ida is alive,” the man replied.
Note to self: in your next apartment, make sure the landlord isn’t stoned out of his mind twenty-four seven.
“That’s great, Hash Pants. I’m happy she’s okay,” Libby replied, not sure there was an eloquent way to respond to the man’s declaration. “But why does your aunt’s life force have anything to do with me?”
“This is her place. I was supposed to check in on it while she was away, but I’ve been subletting it to finance my herbal endeavors. Great Aunt Ida’s been at a yoga retreat in Tibet for the last ten years. My family wasn’t even sure if she was still alive,” the still prostrate man explained.
“Wow,” Libby uttered. “That must be quite a relief.”
“Yeah, I’m sure Great Aunt Ida feels the same way, too. That’s the reason for the movers. I have to put her stuff back and remove yours. You know, restore the balance,” the man mused.
What she wouldn’t give to know the peace of a restored sense of balance!
She watched as the men set a rainbow-colored rocking chair next to the sofa, then looked around the space as karma dealt her another blow. She ran her hands down her face. “Can I have a few days to get my stuff together?”
The guy cracked open a bloodshot eye and checked his watch. “Sorry, Libby, Aunt Ida landed at the airport. She should be here any minute.”
“Any minute!” she shrieked.
“Yep, that construct of time is a tricky dude,” Hash Pants replied. “And there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?” she asked, hardly able to believe that this was it.
No new fitness venture, no money for her brothers, and now, she was minutes away from being homeless.
“The moving guys got most of your stuff, but they didn’t want to touch your…devices.”
She glanced in the tiny kitchen. They must have already gotten her toaster and blender. “Which devices?”
Hash Pants propped himself up onto his elbow. “The devices on your bed. And by the way, that’s one hell of a collection. You must go through batteries like a maniac.”
Her stomach dropped as heat rose to her cheeks.
Just when she thought this day couldn’t get any worse, she remembered what she’d left on her bed.
She swished past a mover lumbering by with a coatrack, then skidded to a stop at the entrance to her bedroom.
If a human being could melt into a pool of complete and utter humiliation, she would have done it.
There, in their vibrating glory, were sixteen, that’s right, sixteen vibrators spread across her bed.
Before she’d left for the meeting with the Tri-Derricks, in a fit of frantic energy, she’d tried them out, only to confirm that yes, her O was still on hiatus. Then, for reasons she could only blame on having an acute case of lady blue balls, she organized the vibrators from largest to smallest.
Laid out in every color of the rainbow, the presentation reminded her of the glass cases in the Museum of Nature and Science, with species of beetles and butterflies pinned side by side to compare the insect’s traits and varying characteristics.
What traits did these sex toys share?
In the last seventy-five days, not one had gotten close to getting her off.
