Porter and I were days away from being together one month. I’d convinced myself if we could last that long, we could last forever.

Lying on my back with my head resting against the arm of the couch, I faced Porter, who was on the opposite end, positioned in the same fashion, facing me. My legs were draped over his thighs and my feet rested on his hips. A cluster of grapes was resting on my chest, and a cluster rested on his.

I plucked a grape from the stem, took aim, and paused.

“It doesn’t look like you’re ready,” I said. “Are you ready?”

“Uh Uh,” he muttered.

“Is that a yes?”

“Damn it. I can’t respond with my mouth stretched wide open. I was ready. Just toss the damned thing.”

I flipped the grape into the air. After reaching its apex, it began to fall toward Porter’s face. With wide eyes he studied it, and then snatched it from mid-air.

“Are you part frog?” I asked. “You snatched that thing with precision.”

He swallowed. “I told you.”

He picked a grape from his cluster and raised it. “Damn. What kind of grapes are these? They’re good.”

“Cotton Candy.”

His brows knitted together. “Cotton Candy grapes?”

“Yep.”

He looked at me in disbelief. “Really?”

“What do they taste like?” I asked, my tone sarcastic.

“Cotton Candy.”

“That’s because they’re Cotton Candy grapes.” I tilted my head back. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.”

He tossed the grape with expert precision. I watched intently as it rose, and then fell. With a wide-open mouth, I positioned myself beneath the falling piece of fruit, only to be hit in the chin by it.

“Damn it,” I said as it rolled into my arm pit.

I reached for the grape and hoisted it into the air.

“One to zero,” he said. “And, you can’t re-throw a grape. Get a new one.”

“Who says I can’t re-throw a grape? There aren’t rules.”

“I’m not eating a grape that smacked you in the chin. Get a clean one,” he insisted.

I laughed out loud.

“What?” he asked.

“You stick your tongue in a hole that I piss out of.” I chuckled so hard I had to catch my breath. “And you’re worried about a grape that hit me in the face?”

“Fine,” he said. “Throw the damned thing.”

I tossed the grape at him not to him. Nonetheless, he somehow managed to catch it in his mouth. After chewing it, he gave me a cross look.

“What the hell, Abby? You threw that fucker.”

“I didn’t know we had rules about speed.”

He scowled at me.

“Okay, let me make a few mental notes. No dirty grapes. Nothing over five miles an hour. Alright, I think I’m good for the next one.”

He picked a grape from his bunch and raised it. “Ready?”

I nodded.

“Two to zero,” he said.

He lobbed the grape into the air.

I leaned left, and then right. Despite being certain I was well within the grape’s path, it fell against my upper lip and then ricocheted off the arm of the couch. As it rolled across the floor, Porter laughed.

“Your fat lips get in the way.”

“You like them when they’re wrapped around your dick, Dick.”

“No need to call names.” He checked his watch. “This is just a friendly game.”

“How much time do we have?” I asked.

“Three or four minutes.”

“Is it three or is it four?”

He glanced at his watch. “Three and twenty seconds.”

I pulled a grape from the bunch and flipped it into the air carelessly, and without warning. Using his eight-pack of stomach muscles, Porter did a sit up, catching the grape in mid-flight.

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” I asked.

“I’m sure there’s something,” he said. “It looks like this isn’t it, though.”

“You suck,” I said.

He inspected the grapes, chose a small one, and then raised it. “I picked a little one. Smaller should be easier, right?”

“Throw it, I’ll tell you in a minute.”

“Just open your mouth wide, and don’t move. I’ll throw it right in there.”

I opened my mouth wide enough to throw a cat into it. He tossed the grape with a flick of his wrist. It shot right into my mouth without so much as grazing a tooth, flew right past my tongue, and then got lodged in my windpipe.

My eyes bulged. I tried to cough but couldn’t. I wanted to give the universal signal for I’m choking, help me, but had no idea what it was. After pounding my fist into my chest twice, frantically, Porter must have realized the threat was real.

He leaped from his end of the couch, yanked me to my feet, and spun me halfway around. I felt a surge of pressure against my chest. I coughed and watched the grape shoot from my mouth and then bounce across the living room floor.

“Holy crap,” I gasped. “I almost died.”

“You didn’t even come close,” he said, releasing me from his grasp. “Three to zero. Time’s up. You lost.”

“I can’t go pick that crap up,” I said. “I almost died.”

“You choked on a grape, and it’s over. We had a bet. The loser of this grape toss has to dive to the Chinese place and pick up the food.”

“The loser is recovering from almost choking to death,” I said. “You go get it.”

“What good did it do to play the game?” he asked. “If you’re going to cheat and stay home while I go get the food?”

There were a million and a half people in the city of San Diego. Of those, roughly half were men. Of that population of seven hundred and fifty thousand men, I doubted there were more than one who would agree to a grape toss contest with the loser picking up the Chinese take-out.

Porter was quickly finding his way into my heart. Deep into my heart. He was so much more than what he appeared to be on the surface.

“How about we both go?” I asked.

He twisted his mouth to the side. “If I go, I’ll feel like a loser, but I didn’t lose.”

“Come on,” I whined. “I don’t want to go alone.”

“Suck my cock after dinner?” he asked.

His cock was huge, and my mouth was small. Sucking it was nothing short of jaw-breaking torture. But, if that’s what it took to get him to go with me, so be it.

“Sure” I said.

“Promise?”

I extended my hand.

He shook it, grinning the entire time.

I scrunched my nose. “What?”

“Who’s manipulating who, now?” he asked with a laugh.

I tried to act stupid. “What are you talking about?”

“That bullshit in the kitchen last week, after I bent your little ass over the island to prove a point.”

“I wasn’t manipulating you,” I lied.

“And, I’m not manipulating you now.”

“You are, too,” I argued.

“Manipulation is tricking someone into doing something. I won the grape tossing contest fair and square. You tried to claim you damned near choked to death, hoping I’d get the food out of sheer pity. I agreed, but only if you’d suck my cock later. You agreed to the blowjob offer, because you wanted my company on the ride to China-Go. This deal is as legit as the day is long. Zero manipulation.” He snatched his keys from the end table. “You ready to go?”

It sounded pretty legit.

I nodded. “I guess so.”

On the way to the door, I had a brainstorm.

“How about when we get home, we have a contest to see how many peas we can pluck out of the fried rice using chopsticks? If you lose, you lick my pussy.”

He opened the door. “Sounds good. What do I get if I win?”

There was no way he could win. “Two blowjobs,” I said.

“One tonight, one tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

I stepped through the door and onto the stairwell, all but tripping over a box that had been placed in front of the door.

He nodded toward the Zappos box. “What the fuck is that?”

I pushed the box inside the door with my foot. “New pair of Chucks. My old ones are getting raggedy.”

“What’s it doing up here?” he asked.

“The UPS guy always comes up the back steps. He knows I sit back here, and he likes to chat. I think he feels like he’s kicking it with a celebrity.”

He nodded, and then pulled the door closed. “So, do we have a deal?” he asked. “Chopsticks tricks for blowjobs?”

“You haven’t been practicing, have you?”

“Nope,” he said.

I laughed. “You’re going to lose. You can’t use chopsticks for shit.”

“What’s the punishment, again?”

I locked the door. “Licking my pussy.”

“Damn it,” he said. “Looks like you’ve manipulated me again.”

I paused and looked at him, confused as to who was manipulating who. Truth be known, I think Porter was manipulating me into manipulating him into having hot sex. But, he was doing so willingly, and knowingly.

Which, in my mind, meant that I was the one being manipulated.

I shrugged it off and followed him down the stairs, wondering if I could ever win at anything with him.

Anything at all.