Just Ask Her Out
WHEN I GET HOME, BETSY is on the couch watching some weird baking show. When I say weird, there’s like puppets in the kitchen with the pretty lady host. My pretty lady is in the same outfit that she was wearing when I left earlier.
“Hey Bestie, you having a lazy day?” I ask with zero judgment as I plop myself down next to her and steal half her blanket.
She tugs the blanket back. “Get used to this look on a Sunday. It’s my only complete day off so I am a total potato. I hope that’s okay that I’m here all day on Sundays.” She dips her hand in a large bowl of popcorn then shoves a large handful into her mouth. Ugh, why is that sexy to me?
“Please, I’ve told you more than once to make yourself at home. I have practice most Sundays but otherwise, it’s pretty free for me too. Is Jack home?”
She shakes her head while she finishes chewing. “He was but he went out again. Said he had a project to do with a friend and was crashing with him.”
I lay back on the couch pulling on the blanket again. It’s a fluffy fake fur thing and fun to pet. “I like this blankie. Why won’t you share with me?”
She relents and allows me a small corner to cover my legs. “How was practice?”
“Good, we got a contract and a mini west coast tour, and Lia, the lead singer is pregnant,” I say matter of factly.
“Oh, so no big news at all?”
“Pretty normal stuff,” I say and grab a handful of popcorn.
“Wow, I’d like to see when you have exciting news.”
“It’s pretty awesome. I’m so happy for my friend, she’s going be a great mom,” I say sincerely, bouncing on the couch a little.
“You would know, being a great dad.” She’s staring at the television as she says this and I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Thanks, that means a lot,” I say. “What is this fucking weird show?” I ask as I notice the woman making some funky ass spider out of cake, I think. She’s now talking to not one but two puppets, a creepy cat and a raccoon.
“It’s called The Curious Creations of Christine McConnell, she’s like a goth Martha Stewart. I’m completely in love with her. Plus, Dita is in it.”
“Dita?” I ask clueless.
“Only the most famous burlesque dancer of our time, Dita Von Teese. She did a few shows at Lady Marmalade last year and I learned so much. She’s fucking rad.” She points her out when she comes on screen and she’s pretty but doesn’t hold a candle to the woman sitting next to me.
We watch in silence as Christine makes a pretzel covered in peanut butter look like a human bone. I’m not sure what the fuck this is but it’s fascinating. Did I mention she has an octopus in her fridge? After watching about three episodes, I decide it’s my new favorite show. The banter between her and the puppets is hilarious and the food she makes looks delicious yet impossible to make.
“I’m in love with her too,” I say after the fifth episode.
“I hate to tell you there’s only one more episode,” she says putting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. “The raccoon kills me.”
“I love her but I’m a real fan of the mummy cat,” I say stretching and yawning.
“You tired from your self-love shenanigans? Or was practice exhausting?”
“Probably a combination of the two. I think we were all over excited about all the news. I was a little disappointed to have to turn down the full U.S. tour but someday we will do it.”
“Is that something you dream about?” she asks.
“Yes and no. It’s funny, my whole life I’ve wanted to play music, I thought it was my life’s calling, but I love my day job too. While I dream of touring and playing music, I also dream of giving you the bathroom you’ve always wanted.” It’s true, even though I’d rather have my parents back, what happened to them made me a better person.
“Something tells me that was not the dream you’re having this morning when I was trying to read in your room,” she says and she’s most definitely right.
“You say that like I was in your way, in my own room.”
She shrugs. “You told me to make myself at home. I couldn’t resist that chair a minute longer.”
“Did it live up to your expectations?”
“It did, in comfort and view,” she winks at me and I have a feeling she may have seen my sheet tent.
“Hope my bed behaved itself. Was it less aggressive with me in it?” God, I hope it still was seducing her. I’ll take any help I can get.
“Less aggressive, yes. Less inviting? No.” The final episode starts to play and we focus our attention on the screen. Was that flirting? I can’t tell. Am I losing my touch? Of course not. Should I stop asking so many questions and just go with the fucking flow? Hells yes.
Betsy falls asleep after we’ve switched to baseball and I watch her. She stretches out so her feet are in my lap and I rub them lightly. Her unbelievably long lashes dust her cheeks; her rosy lips are parted and her soft snores are adorable. I want to know more about her. It’s only been a few weeks but I feel a pull to her that I haven’t felt in a long time. Andrew thinks I should ask her out but I think it’s not my best move. Especially since she’s living in my house for the foreseeable future.
I finish watching the game then try to rouse Betsy to get her to go to her room. I do this by massaging her feet with an increasing amount of pressure. A smile widens across her face and she groans softly. “Oh man, don’t stop that.”
“I’m sure it feels good after dancing in those shoes,” I say and her pretty eyes open and then narrow at me.
“What shoes are those?” she asks, one eyebrow arched.
“The shoes you dance in, I’m assuming are pretty and uncomfortable. You told me you do three dances and three nights in a row, I’m sure your dogs are barkin’.” Yeah, I’m a good deflector.
I dig into her arch and her back arches, pushing her perfect tits up. A vision of them spilling from her corset has me massaging her feet more vigorously and her squirming in delight. “You are killing me in the best way. If you keep it up, you’ll spoil me.” I finish one foot and dig into the other as she sighs.
“I am at your service, dear lady. Foot rubs, reading spots, and aggressive beds are at your disposal for the duration of your stay,” I say and bend down to kiss her cheek. She’s so lovely in her tired state, I can’t resist. “Let’s get you to your room.”
Standing, I offer my hand and she takes it and then stretches. Her shirt rides up and I see some roots. Even those are artfully done. She grabs her blanket and heads upstairs and I follow her. We stop at her door and she turns to me.
“Good night, Joe,” she says and puts her arms around my neck and pulls me into the warmest and most delicious embrace. “Thanks for letting me stay, I appreciate it so much.”
“Of course,” I say my arms relaxing around her waist. “You’re my best friend, remember? Plus, I think Jack likes you better than me already.”
We part and I take a step back and already miss her soft body against mine. “I’m sure he just likes having a woman around the house. It’s been a while.”
“I’m sure it’s just you, but you can think that if you want,” I say with a shrug. “We are both lucky you’re here. Our lives are better for it.”
“Are you always this sweet or was it my snoring on the couch that won you over?”
I laugh. “The snoring was a bonus, but I’m always this charming. Goodnight, Bets.”
Her smile lights up the hallway and she gives me a little wave turning into her room. In a daze, I walk to mine and close and lock the door. I have some more quality time to myself and then walk to my door and leave it unlocked, just in case.