3rd (proper) Date with Gemma

“Hey, love,” Gemma said, grinning from ear to ear as you walked down the street to meet her.

You swept her up in your arms and spun her around right there on the sidewalk as you kissed her. Gemma had worn a pair of tight jeans that were more hole than fabric - you weren’t sure when or how that trend started, but you appreciated all the skin it showed. She was also wearing a t-shirt for a band you didn’t know, but tied in the back to make it more like a crop top, and cute converse shoes.

“Hello, gorgeous,” you said, setting her down but still hugging her to you.

“No flower this time?” she asked.

“I wasn’t sure what we were doing, so I held off,” you said. “But I memorized a half dozen places in the area, so depending on where we’re going I want to stop and get you one.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, but you knew the look in her eye was that she’d be happy if you did. It was a thing you’d started, and keeping it going was a gesture you wanted to pursue.

Instead of answering, you kissed her again on the lips and took her hand in yours. “So what are we up to?” you asked.

“Have you ever done ax throwing?” she asked.

“I haven’t, but I’ve seen pictures,” you said.

“Well, that’s what we’re doing. I want to see you go full barbarian for me while we drink. Then, since we’ve made it our thing, there’s a food truck that’s supposed to be set up a block over that we should try out.”

“Then let’s throw some axes,” you said, giving her hand a squeeze.

“But then I come out of the shower and they are right there in the kitchen, and his ass is pointed right at me,” you said, gesturing with the pint you were holding as Gemma laughed along with your story. “And Mosche is freaking out again, but Tasha is just like ‘Hey’ and then goes right back to telling him to fuck her. And then, here’s the kicker, she says if she gets her off she might stop edging him later.”

“Oh nooo,” Gemma giggled, closing her eyes as she laughed. “She’s got poor Mosche wrapped around her finger.”

“I don’t know whether to congratulate him, or be worried for him,” you said. “He finally found a woman who knows what she wants with him, but if he hasn’t gotten off this whole time I don’t know what to think.”

“Oh, boy,” Gemma sighed, wiping her tears of laughter from her eyes and then standing up. “Alright, my turn.”

She stepped up to the line and hefted one of the handaxes, feeling its weight in her hands. Then she wound up, using both hands to bring it over her head, and let it loose. The ax spun end over end and impacted with the wooden board with a satisfying thunk, sticking into the target about half a foot from centre.

“Nice!” you called, standing up and high fiving Gemma.

The bar was loud with the sounds of not only the ax throwing, but other weird bar games as well. You would never have guessed that the old, warehouse looking building held this gem of a bar inside it.

“Fear me, for I am Xena, warrior princess,” Gemma laughed, flexing and giving you a tough expression.

“Did Xena have a romantic interest in the show?” you asked.

“No idea,” she said, and pressed up against you as she tilted her chin up for a kiss, which you provided. “But this Xena is very happy to have met her Conan.”

“So I’m Conan, huh?” you asked. “Doesn’t Conan have a new woman in every story he’s in?”

“Love, it’s a joke about the axes, stop trying to take the metaphor any further,” Gemma said with a roll of her eyes.

You gave her ass a squeeze and winked, then stepped over to the line and picked up an ax to throw. Her’s was still stuck in the target. You’d quickly decided that throwing one-handed was more comfortable than two-handed for you, so you rotated the haft of the ax in your hand and then focused on the target. Then you pulled the ax back and let it fly. It spun just like Gemma’s had, but hit the target with the flat metal top of the hatchet head instead of with the blade with a clonk and then clattered to the floor.

With a sigh, you turned around and gave Gemma a shrug. “Conan is a sword guy anyways.”

“Yes he is,” Gemma said as you walked back to her, and she reached over and put a hand on your crotch for a moment, feeling up your package. “Yes, he certainly is.”

Three pints of beer each had hit you both, and after a quick trip to the restroom at the bar you were ready for some food. Your arms ached from throwing the axes so much, not used to the weird activity but knowing that you wanted to come back.

You and Gemma had laughed and talked through the whole thing without a moment of silence between the two of you. She talked about her extended family, which was pretty large, and about some of her wild animal encounters back home in Australia - you hadn’t asked for them, so she was more than happy to wow you when they came to her mind naturally. In return you talked about your smaller extended family, and the rift on your father’s side with his two toxic siblings, and you told her some stories about growing up playing house league sports and the stupid rivalries between kids in school.

Gemma had paid at the bar, so when she led you to a food cart that proclaimed itself ‘The King of Waffles’ you wouldn’t hear about her paying. The waffle cart served these thin, crunchy waffles shaped into a cone, with a variety of toppings that could go inside them. The inside of the waffles were still fluffy, and you ordered the ‘Breakfast Special’ that was filled with tater tots, bacon, scrambled eggs and maple syrup, while Gemma tried the ‘All-American’ that had hamburger, french fries, onion rings, and cheeseburger toppings.

You ended up eating the All-American.

“Is this going to happen every time, or just some of the time?” you asked, teasing her as you both sat on a city bench outside of a park, carefully trying to eat your stuffed waffles out of the cardboard cones they were served in.

“What do you mean?” Gemma asked.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” you pivoted.

“You have, but tell me again,” she grinned.

“Gemma, I love you so much that I’ll let you switch food with me every day of the week,” you said.

She smiled and rested her head on your shoulder. “Thanks, love.”

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