Baking pies has always been my go to task when I’m stressed or happy. Whatever’s on my mind can be forgotten, replaced with anticipation of tasting the finished product.

Lucy and I haven’t been able to get together since our last date when Jeremiah got sick, but after talking to her on the phone today, I’m feeling keyed up. Rather than sitting around wasting time, I’m going to put this energy to use.

My grandmother had me in the kitchen with her as a young boy, rolling out the crust with her mother’s rolling pin. It was made of wood and heavy for my small hands. I can remember the green handles on both ends with the paint flecked off from age and use. I don’t know what became of that rolling pin, but I can still remember the way the smooth handles felt in my grasp as I carefully moved back and forth over the dough. Gram, was relentless about the crust being just the way she wanted and my arms would be fatigued by the time she was satisfied.

Kneeling on a kitchen chair I’d watch intently as she placed the crust in the pie pan and then trimmed the excess dough off the edges. We’d add whatever filling she’d decided on and then repeat the same steps with the top crust. Whatever dough was leftover she’d let me play with. We’d add food coloring and it would be better than any Play-Doh we could buy in the store.

Gram isn’t with me anymore, but every time I make a pie I imagine her looking over my shoulder, instructing me and patting my back when I get it right.

My arms no longer get tired as I roll out the crust, but the monotonous motion is relaxing for me. The rolling pin I’m using now might be state of the art and the best money can buy, but I’d rather be using Gram’s. Adding more flour, I gently push down and keep the motion smooth as I stretch the dough out to the right size. Sybil, meows, rubbing against my leg as if to remind me she’s here. “Hey, pretty girl, what kind of mischief have you been up to today?” Her only answer is a deep purr as she presses the top of her head to my calf.

My thoughts wander to Lucy and I long for her to be here with me. Making a pie with her would be a sensual experience. Imagining her in a red thong, my flour covered handprints on her ass, has me all worked up. She’d look so mouth watering, I wouldn’t be able to wait to have her. I’d spread her out on the kitchen counter and move right on to dessert.

By the time I slip the cherry pie into the oven, my dick is hard as rock and I’m hopeful about Lucy and I finding the time to get together soon. I hope she’s missing me as much as I’m missing her.

* * *

Working full time and training for a lumberjack competition don’t really go hand in hand. Especially when my work takes up most of each day. Something has to give, and unfortunately, it’s the amount of time I can dedicate to training for this championship. I’m not really too concerned about it. If I have to drop one of the balls I’m juggling, I’d prefer that be the one.

“What’s this about you telling Cam my dick isn’t impressive?” Chase storms into my home gym.

I chuckle in response and keep running at a decent clip on the treadmill. “Why’d you say that? My dick is impressive as fuck,” he informs.

“I’ll take your word for it, buddy.” I flick a glance in his direction and laugh at the scowl on his face. “Do you really want Cam thinking about your ‘impressive dick’?’”

“No, but…”

“No, but your enormous ego can’t take it if someone doesn’t think you’re walking around with a third leg?” I question, cutting him off.

He grins. “I never said it was that big.”

“How’ve you been?” I ask, changing the subject. I don’t want to talk about Chase’s dick anymore.

“Good. Busy as fuck, though. I’ve got this new account and the CEO is a ball busting woman. She’s running me ragged.”

“Is that a hint of respect I hear in your tone?”

He presses his lips together while he thinks about my question. “Maybe. I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone like her before.”

“Different is good, bro.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience. Does this mean you gave the Timber thing a try?”

Slowing down the speed on the treadmill, I settle into an easy jog and catch my breath. “Yeah, I met someone on there.”

“I knew it,” he shouts, pointing at me. “Mr. ‘I don’t want to be in a relationship,’ are you now in one?”

Raking my teeth over my bottom lip, I think about how to label what Lucy and I are. “I’m not sure what we’re in. She’s cautious and I’m crazy about her. We’ll need to see how it all plays out.”

“Good for you, man. I’m happy that you’re putting yourself out there.”

“What about you? When are you going to ‘put yourself out there’?”

“Don’t turn my own words on me, dude.” He smirks as he steps onto the treadmill next to mine. Typing in the necessary information, he remains quiet until he’s finished. Once he’s walking at a fast pace he resumes the conversation. “How’s the sex?”

“We haven’t had any yet.”

“What are you waiting for, dude?”

“I’m interested in more than sex from this girl. She might be the perfect woman for me.”

“Well, you won’t know if she is until you bang her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. What if she sucks in bed?”

“I’m hoping she will,” I jest.

“Okay, you got me there.”

“Lucy is sexy and we have mad chemistry.”

“Lucy, huh? Cute name. Chemistry is great, but that doesn’t mean she won’t be lame in bed.”

“Chase, there’s nothing lame about this girl, trust me.” Every time I think about her I find myself smiling and longing for her company. We need to find a way to make our schedules more compatible. Talking on the phone and texting is great, but nothing is a substitute for being in her company.