The Locker Room(64)
“Oh shit.” I laugh. “I didn’t think about that. I wasn’t naked.”
“Well, the glove covering your junk isn’t necessarily clothing either.”
“You would be surprised how long it took me to take that picture.”
“Dottie took a picture of it and uses it as her lock screen on her phone.”
Of course. I drop my head back and laugh. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from her. But you like it?”
“I stare at it way too much, but you could have done something about your pasty white legs.”
“I thought about self-tanner but nixed that idea. I wanted you to see me au naturel.”
“Slightly blinding but still sexy.”
“Damn right it’s sexy. I told my mom about the photo and she chastised me for a second before she started laughing. When I showed it to her, she shielded her eyes but then took a look. She appreciated the glove . . . cupping my balls.”
She shakes her head in humor. “There is something seriously wrong with you, but thank you, it’s my favorite present I got today. Did you get the little package from me? It’s nothing like what you gave me, but it’s something.”
“I did. I love the cookies, fucking good. I was kind of hoping you were going to slip a pair of panties in there for me, something I could hold on to when I fall asleep at night.”
“I would never do that.”
“Not even a little thong?”
“No.”
“Come on.” I smile at her. “Loosen up, babe.”
“There is no way in hell I will ever send you panties in the mail. What if the package gets lost, then some creep is going to have my underwear hanging on his wall where he stares at it every night while gripping his crooked penis. No, thank you.”
“There are so many things wrong with that sentence, too many to ask about, but I do need to know one thing.”
“What’s that?” Her smile is so damn contagious.
“The panties, how are they hung up on the wall? Duct tape? Push pins? Nail?”
She doesn’t answer right away, just blinks a few times. Finally she asks, “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m going to take that as duct tape.”
Knox: BAAAAAAAAABE!!!!!!
Emory: Let me guess, you got my package?
Knox: Panties!! I’m wearing them right now.
Emory: Stop it. No, you’re not.
Knox: Nah, I couldn’t get them past my quad-zillas.
Emory: You’re obnoxious. Your thighs aren’t that big.
Knox: You haven’t seen me in two weeks. They’re massive, babe.
Emory: They’re probably still the pasty chicken thighs I know very well.
Knox: Hey, watch yourself. They’re not chicken thighs. They’re beefy man legs.
Emory: Sure . . .
Knox: Keep doubting me, when I see you next, I’m going to choke hold you with them.
Emory: How romantic.
Knox: Want to know what romantic is?
Knox: [Picture]
Emory: What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you hang my panties up with duct tape?
Knox: Seemed like the thing to do. At least the guy gripping his dick while looking at them doesn’t have a crooked member.
Emory: Or so you think.
Emory: What is this?
Emory: [Picture]
Knox: What do you think it is?
Emory: It looks like a jockstrap, but I couldn’t fathom why you’d send them to me with some of Grandma Sue’s toffee.
Knox: It is in FACT my jockstrap.
Emory: Why on earth would you think I want this? (P.S. thank you for putting it in a Ziplock bag so it didn’t taint the toffee)
Knox: You send me panties, I send you my jockstrap. Don’t worry, babe, I washed it but did press it against my naked penis right before I sent it, in case you wanted to feel close to me.
Emory: You realize this is worse than texting me a dick pic, right?
Knox: No way, it’s so much better. Consider it your new pillow.
Emory: Wow, we really aren’t going to make it a month. I never knew we were going to breakup over a jockstrap.
Knox: Babe, don’t hate on the crotch protector. That right there is romance.
Emory: Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but this is not romance.
Knox: A little.
Emory: The opposite of romance.
Knox: A tiny bit of romance.
Emory: I almost puked in my mouth when I opened it.
Knox: Now you’re just being dramatic.
Emory: Excuse me, I need the toilet again.
Knox: WHAT??? IS?? THIS???
Knox: [picture]
Emory: Take a wild guess.
Knox: Why did you send me an insert to your bra?
Emory: Since we’re sending each other things . . .
Knox: Babe, this is . . . please tell me this touched your tit.
Emory: Multiple times.
Knox: I could cry right now. I’m going to wear it as a face mask.
Emory: If you do, I’m going to need a picture of that.
Knox: Orrrrr, I can duct tape it next to the panties. Have a little shrine of you on my wall that I can stare at before I go to bed. Damn, I’m so undecided.
Emory: The possibilities are endless.
Knox: Or, I can have my crafty mom sew me a pillow using both panties and tit insert. Now there’s an idea I can get on board with.