Page 52 of Man Hands
Tom—
Pick me! I’m 5-4, 138 pounds. Thirty-four years old. My boobs aren’t as perky as Chandra’s but they are real. That woman is crazypants, okay? I’m single and I’d never kick you out of bed. If you’d have gotten down on one knee in front of me I would have peed myself from excitement. You’re the best, and I would love to beyourwife.
Love,Candi
P.S. When I said I would have peed myself, that was just an exaggeration. I don’t really have any issues with incontinence. Not often, anyway.Callme!
Ilookup at Publicist Becky, whose hands are still brimming with letters. “See? These started showing up last March, and never stopped. And now the women are all hot and bothered by your pumping backside. That engagement ring picture only confirms you’re honorable…and…well… All those boxes are filled with marriage proposals! For realz! We’re sending everyone who offers to marry you aMr. Fixit Quickkeychain, and a coupon for twenty percent off at HomeDepot.”
Looking over Becky’s shoulder, I count the file boxes. There are at least a dozen. And I don’t even know how I feel about that. It’s really flattering. Then again, it just proves that our nation is full of women willing to propose to a man they’venevermet.
Becky grabs the letters out of my hand, hurls it back into the open box, kicks the closet door shut, and frog-marches me back to her office. My head aches as she outlines all the photos she wants of me and Brynn, and her sunny outlook for my rehabilitatedreputation.
“I did have one big new idea!” she chatters. “Nobody can resist a hard-luck story! I think it’s time we did an interview about your childhood! Heck! We could take a camera crew to the trailer park where your ailing grandmotherraisedyou!”
“Manufactured housing site,” I mutter. Then I catch myself. “Just stop right there. We aren’t doing that. If you try to play the Crappy Childhood card, I willfireyou.”
Becky sits back in her chair and puts the phone down for the first time. “No need to go nuclear, Tom. If you don’t like my plans, you can justsayso.”
As if. “I’m engaged because of you. Fake-engaged.”
Her smile returns. “But you’re doing itbeautifully!”
Eventually I’m allowed to leave and return to the hotel. I’m in dire need of a cocktail and asandwich.
And Brynn. A smile from my new favorite girl will go a long way. Let the healingbegin.
As I approach the door to our room, I hear the TV on inside the room. At least I hope it’s the TV, because otherwise someone is operating a table saw inside our hotel suite. I’d know that high-pitched whineanywhere.
I wave the key card in front of the scanner, and when the light turns green, I push the door open. “Hi, honey, I’m home!” I call out. Because I’ve always wanted tosaythat.
Brynn is on that weird couch. She jumps like I’ve startled her, and then grabs the TV remote and kills the screen immediately. In the silence, I notice a few details. Her cheeks are rosy, she has crumbs in her hair, and her bosom is heaving. She looks up at me, and the sex haze she’s fallen under is like a beacon. My body responds immediately to her flushed face and her “dome”eyes.
“Whatcha watchin?” I ask slowly. I kick the door shut and toss the key card onto a table. When I take a step toward the sofa, her breath hitchesaudibly.
“P-porn,” she whispers, her eyesguilty.
“I knew Ilikedyou.”
30A BondingExperience
Brynn
When Tom enters the room,I’m ready for him. I’ve just spent the last two hours fantasizing about his various body parts holding various tools and banging around constructionsites.
He’s a hot guy and I’m a big girl and this is just a sexcation we’re having together. Torvald and Svenka. Let the bangingcommence.
Tom kicks the door shut and crosses quickly to the sofa. “Did you make a choice?” he asks, and his voice is puregravel.
For a second I have no idea what he’s talking about. But then my inner Svenka kicks into action. “Bed,” Iwhisper.
No sooner is the word out of my mouth when Tom leans over and scoops me off the sofa, his hands under my ass. I wrap my arms around him to make the job easier. I’m not just some tiny waif you can tossaround.
Although now I get it. Having just watched Tom carry everything from a water heater to a hearty stack of two-by-fours, it’s less shocking that he can pick me up and fling mearound.
And fling me he does. My ass hits the puce bedspread seconds later. Then I’m sitting there staring up at his powerful Paul Bunyan body. Confession: the fact that he can make me feel small is a bigturn-on.
He leans down, plants those big hands on the bed and kisses me with generous lips. I’m already turned on, and he’s ready to roll. So we attack each other’s mouths like starving people. Tom gives a deep groan as he tastes me for the first time. “Can’t wait to fuck you,” he says against mymouth.
