Saturdays are for Pussy Fights
“You are not going to eat all that.” I watch Will pull out two large filets from their package and place them on a plate on my kitchen counter.
“I’m not. You’re going to help me,” he replies, picking up the bowl of homemade spices he made, and begins sprinkling them over the meat.
I shake my head. Yeah. No way. “I don’t think so, that thing is huge. I can’t eat all that.”
Will looks at me with that devious smile. “Baby, I’ve seen you put bigger things in your mouth, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
His head is lucky he’s quick because the lemon goes zipping past him when he ducks. His laughter fills the kitchen. I pause to enjoy the magical sound, when he mauls me.
“Will! Gross! You have meat hands!” I squeal. He lifts me up, walking us to the nearest wall. His lips are pressing wet kisses to the crook of my neck. “Will…” I fade off, tilting my head to the side to allow him better access.
“Stop acting like you don’t like my thick meat. I bet you’re wet right now just thinking about it. The feel of it. Taste of it. The way my meat stretches you.”
Jesus, I love his meat.
“Tell me how much you love my meat.”
“I love your meat,” I moan as his teeth scrape my skin, taking a nip at my shoulder.
“How hot are you for my meat?” He grinds his hard meat into me.
“So so so hot.”
“Well, shit. We’d better cool you off then.” He pulls off the wall, confusing me, and heads toward the sliding glass door. He walks us right out of the back door toward the pool.
“Will…Will, don’t you dare…WILL!” I scream, but quickly hold my breath when he jumps, throwing us both into the pool. When he comes back up, breaking the surface, he’s already sporting a huge smile.
“You’re so gonna pay for that.”
He kisses my wet lips. “Oh, good. Tell me all the naughty things you’re going to do to punish me.”
I splash water at him. “I’m going to hurt you.”
Another kiss. “Oh yeah, keep going.”
My hands go up and I tug at his hair. “Like really hurt you! You’re not gonna like it.”
“If your hands are on me, I guarantee, I’ll love it.” He doesn’t allow me the opportunity to reply. His lips are hard on mine and he’s kissing me like it’s his job. And the employee of the century award goes to this guy.
It’s a damn shame we’ve spent the past year hating on each other and not doing this instead. It’s also probably why we’ve fucked like rabbits, making up for the three hundred and sixty-five days we missed out on. I never knew how much I’d enjoy such an uptight, anal man, who makes the bed before I’m out of it, turns lights off before we’re even out of the room, insists on spreading butter on his toast only horizontally, claiming it doesn’t soak into the bread the right way if not done properly.
But it’s like they say. Never diss it until you try it. And I tried it. And I’m obsessed.
After our night eating meatloaf and yoga, I realized I loved his grandma. I snuck her my number before we left and told her to hook me up with some chocolate cake lessons. I felt super guilty that the slices she sent us home with ended up all over me and not as much in our bellies as it should have been. But Will got to lick me clean of the chocolate ganache icing and I shamelessly snuck a few chunks of the fluffy cake into my mouth in between moans. I never got back around to asking him about that strange mood change when we were there. There was something I felt he wasn’t disclosing. It bummed me out he wouldn’t tell me, but then again, I’m no better with all the secrets I’m harboring.
The ratings at the station are through the roof, thanks to Will and his ridiculous daily phone calls. Leon is ecstatic that Wonka keeps calling in. Me, not so much since now I have all of Morristown pining over my neighbor. Keyword my. It’s a good thing that just the mention of hordes of people on his lawn for long periods of time talks him out of all his daily phone call threats. Okay, so maybe I’m the only one who sees them as threats. The entire female population sees them as temptations.
They started off super sweet. He called in on Monday to update our listeners on what an amazing weekend he had. He wooed them when he went on and on about how he took the neighbor to meet his grandma. On Tuesday, he called in, telling our listeners he wanted to surprise her with dinner and asked for suggestions on what to make her. The Facebook poll had eighty-two percent on agreeance that a fancy pasta dish was best. He made steak. On Wednesday, he went on and on about the fancy meal he cooked and how he fed each bite to her. I rolled my eyes the entire time since we didn’t even touch the filets. The minute I walked through his door, my shirt was off and we never left the bedroom. Come Thursday when he called, he needed to talk about his feelings and what this girl was doing to him. Even I was eating out of the palm of his hand. Just like every listener, I wanted to be that neighbor. At times, I had to secretly remind myself I was that neighbor. Friday’s call, though, took the cake. I also told him I was blocking his number.
“Morning, Mr. Wonka, our callers were getting impatient. It’s past your normal call time,” D says into the mic at Will, who I know is sitting at work and not at home.
“Thanks, Big D, it’s just that I’m stuck and need your listeners’ help. I’m standing in the middle of my bedroom, staring in the mirror at this pair of boxers I’m wearing. My little neighbor and I had an argument. You see, she says my boxers are blue. I think they’re green. I just don’t know how to settle our debate.”
He’s a dead man.
The lines light up instantly. I swear people have us on speed dial as of late.
I roll my eyes, speaking into the mic, “Wonka, I’m pretty sure the neighbor is right on this one. Better just go on and hurry to work. Next call—”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure they’re green. She also said they were too tight. Do you think maybe—”
“No.” Jesus, not this again.
“But if your callers could just see, maybe they would help—”
“No!”
Daryl can’t keep his laughter contained. “I don’t know, Lil, the lines are blowing up. Our Facebook page is filling with tons of requests, begging us to let Mr. Wonka post.”
And I can’t care less what those perverts want! I’m not allowing my boyfriend’s junk, which is way noticeable in his too tight underwear, to blast all over Facebook. And I plead the fifth on why I just called him my boyfriend.
Will chimes in. “I agree with Big D. Let’s take a vote. I really could use some hands on this. It’s just too hard to do it myself.”
Dead. Man.
And to make matters worse, Leon doesn’t even spaz out at that inappropriate comment. He’s so turned on by the spike in ratings, he probably wants to do Wonka too.
“Guys! Wait a minute! Why are we always so focused on Wonka? Why don’t we ask to see the neighbor? Personally, I wouldn’t mind seeing some hot legs, possibly some cleavage. Male listeners, what do you think?”
Daryl laughs. Will grumbles.
“No, I don’t think she would like that.”
“Oh, come on, Wonka! What? Don’t want the world to see what you see? Just a peek. Let all the men, maybe women too, see a glimpse of your neighbor.”
“No, sorry.”
“Well, it seems Mr. Wonka isn’t the sharing type,” Daryl says, playing the ‘wah wah’ sound effect.
“Nah, I say we do it. Let’s start a rally! We want to show the men of Morristown some of what Wonka gets. Come on, guys, let’s take a poll, cleavage or those long legs he talks about—”
“They’re green,” Will says, followed by a click.
I won that battle. I felt like a winner all day long after that call. Until I got home Friday night and he attacked me. Will made it very clear he does not share. Never has. Never will. There would be no exploiting his neighbor or her perky tits, and her fine-ass legs, his words. He also made sure of it when he marked me with love bites and hickeys, so I wouldn’t even be able to sneak a pic without anyone thinking I have leprosy.
Bastard.
We’re choosing to spend the day at my house swimming and enjoying the Saturday sun. I’ve avoided spending time at my house all week in fear of my mother calling again. Will never mentioned the voicemail he heard, which is good. I wouldn’t even know how to explain. I’d have to lie, which I really don’t want to do with Will. No doubt every time I come home to get ready for work, the voicemail button is lit, my mother going on and on about coming home, my father this, my father that, and Lance, Lance, Lance. I know I should call her back. My father means every bit of his threat and I need to start taking it seriously.
I told myself I’d just enjoy the weekend with Will and then come Monday, figure out my next moves. I wouldn’t bend for my father. But I knew it was that or he’d break me.
“I’m going to have to stop fucking you soon, so we can get the steaks on the grill before the sun goes down.”
“Never,” I pant, still trying to catch my breath and hoping he doesn’t let me go. I’m pretty sure my legs won’t work and I’ll sink to the bottom of the pool and drown. Our day of sunbathing and swimming has turned into a sex marathon in the sun, in the pool, and on the deck. I haven’t had any need for my bathing suit, since I’ve been naked most of the day. It’s turned out to be a good thing, helping with my tan lines. Win-win.
“I can’t watch another perfectly good slab of meat go to waste. I had to throw those filets out, you know.”
“First off, I feel like what we just did with your meat was not a waste.”
His hands are on my hips, tickling me.
“Ahhh! Okay! It’s meat time!” I’m laughing, trying to push his hands off me.
He finally obeys and releases me.
“You may want to schedule a pool cleaning after today.” He laughs and climbs out of the pool.
I take in his comment, then look around at the pool water. After what we just did in here, good call. I follow suit and climb out after him.
“You know, Wonka, these steaks better be good. All this I’m a steak master talk.”
He turns and gives me that sexy smile. “They’ll be good. And you’re going to be thanking me with that sweet mouth of yours later.”
“Mmmmm, double the meat, can’t wait!”
He tries to swat me with a towel, but I’m quick and jump back.
“Speaking of sweet, let’s get some margaritas going.” I throw on my bathing suit and head into my kitchen. I dig through my pantry only to realize I must have drank all the tequila. Shocked, but then again, not, I yell for Will. “Hey, Willy, any chance you have any tequila at your place?”
“Yeah, bottom cabinet below the sink,” he replies from the deck, trying to mess with the grill.
“Cool. I’ll be right back!”
“Put some damn clothes on, though. I’m getting sick of Mr. Daniels getting a peep show.”
I laugh at his comment. Throwing on a pair of shorts, I head out the front door and next door. Will has gotten a little bit more lenient on leaving his door unlocked. One, because I convinced him we live in a very safe neighborhood. Also, so I could come in anytime I wanted to when I needed a booty call.
I head into his house, through the living room practically skipping. I walk into the kitchen and head for the sink, when I’m stopped in my tracks.
Björk.
My competition.
Will’s damn cat is sitting on the ledge of the sink, giving me her usual stink eye. If there is one thing that’s been made known it is that his cat is no fan of mine. I guess I can understand why since I took her spot on the bed, the couch, his heart. Instead of petting her, he’s petting me. I’d probably hate me too.
It doesn’t change the fact she has tried on numerous occasions to claw my eyes out. Jumping up from the back of the couch and clawing at my head was not a coincidence. Nor was the time she jumped out at me when I was taking a quick shower, making me almost slip and kill myself, or the other day when she mistook my plate of Chinese food we ordered as her litter box and pissed on my fried rice.
Will is clearly blinded by his furry fluff of love. Me, on the other hand, got it. Girls’ intuition and all. His cat hates me.
“Uh, hey, kitty kitty. I just need to get into that cabinet, and I’ll be on my way.” I slowly bend down to open the cabinet when Björk takes a swing at me with her paw. I almost fall backward avoiding her claws.
“What the hell?”
She just sits there eyeing me.
“You have some serious issues,” I snap at her and sit back up. I reach for the knob again, and she takes another swipe at me. I dodge her from scratching my face, but she manages to get a chunk of my hair and pull.
“Ouch! You stupid cat!” I swipe her right back, but she lifts her paw and stabs me with her damn claws. “Oh, hell no!” I jump for her, but she scurries down the counter. “Come here, you stupid feline. What’s wrong? Mad your owner found better pussy?” Yeah, that’s right. I’m shit talking a cat. “I should probably tell him I’m allergic. Wouldn’t that be a shame? He’d have to get rid of you. No more kitty—”
That damn thing jumps at me. I’m literally wrestling a cat from clawing my eyes out in Will’s kitchen. She gets me good across the cheek and I yelp. That’s when I take her and throw her. She goes flying but lands on her feet and takes off into the living room.
“Jesus!” I hold my face. “That’s right. Run away! You fight like a pussy anyway!” Forgetting the tequila, I leave, afraid of that psycho cat. I slam the door shut, debating on leaving it open so she runs away, and walk back next door, holding my poor cheek. I swear, I think I just got my ass kicked by a—
“What in heavens are you wearing?”
I whip my head down my driveway to see my parents.
Oh shit.
“Lilith, dear, for God’s sake, you’re practically naked.”
I look down, completely forgetting I’m just in my bathing suit top and daisy dukes.
“Uh, wh-what are you guys doing here?”
“That’s all you have to say to us right now? Is this how you uphold yourself? I do say, Lilith, you’re getting out of control,” my father scolds me. “And why are you bleeding? You’re not even safe here.”
Oh, double shit. One of the many reasons I couldn’t have them come here.
“Cat fight. I’m fine. And, uh—”
“Baby, hurry, I just threw the steaks on the grill. I showered too. You need bigger towels because this barely wraps around—”
Will stops talking when he notices the two people in my driveway. “Oh, sorry,” Will says to them, disinterested. “We’re not buying anything.”
Kill me now.
“Oh my.” My mother blushes.
My father’s face turns beet red. “Excuse me, son? Where are your clothes?”
“Will, these are—”
“Lil, you don’t have to buy anything. Are you from the church up the street? Do you have a permit to be walking through and putting fliers on doors—”
“Will!” I cry out. He finally shuts the fuck up. “These are my parents.”
He stares back at them, confused. Once it officially registers what I said, shock takes over. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I thought…”
“Can you, uh, maybe go put some clothes on?” I ask, knowing this will probably be the last time I see him alive anyway. My father is looking pretty murderous right now. It doesn’t help that his wife is practically drooling. I want to turn to my mother and tell her I get it, but I don’t think now’s the best time for jokes.
“Lilith, you better explain,” Daddy growls. “Or we are leaving here right now, and you’re coming with us. Is this what you’ve been doing? Running around like a—”
“Okay, sorry about that.” Will comes back, thankfully clothed.
I want to tell him to run while he can. But I also don’t want to be left alone with them considering how mad my father looks.
Will approaches my father and sticks out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Hamilton, William Grant. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
My father makes no effort to shake his hand. My mother is still ogling.
“You have a lovely daughter, sir.”
Considering they just saw you practically naked, that’s not helping.
“Daddy, this is my neighbor, Will. He’s a bank auditor. A really great one too.”
My father still stands there eyeing him while my mother sticks her hand out.
“Well, hello there. Tonya Hamilton.”
Will goes to shake my mother’s hand, but gets a surprise when she puts the top of her hand out. Oh my God. Don’t do it. Don’t—
Ugh. He does it!
My mother’s eyes light up when Will places a kiss to the top of her hand.
“Okay, well, see you around, Will,” I say curtly.
I take back keeping him around. He needs to go. Like now. He looks hurt that I’m trying to shoo him off. I’ll explain later, hoping he understands.
“Well, what about dinner? We have plenty of steak.” What I need is for him to stop digging us all in a hole. He turns back to my father. “Would you guys like to stay and eat with us?”
Okay. Actually, I’m just gonna leave. Save myself.
Do I tell Will now that I don’t think Bart Hamilton has ever had a meal that’s come off a backyard grill in his life?
“If you think I’m going to eat—” Daddy starts.
“The steaks! I left them on the grill, dammit!” Will turns, taking off through the house. I stare at his back, hoping for a meteor to fall from the sky and blow up Earth. It would save me from having to turn to my parents and explain.
“Dinner sounds lovely!” my mother chimes in, staring at the door Will just disappeared through. “But dear heavens, Lilith, we’ll eat something a little bit more suitable.”
Hmmm. What places does one pick when knowing they are taking their boyfriend/neighbor to his last meal?