Try to buy a few minutes

Xabar can’t believe his luck. More to the point, he can’t believe his lack of it. Blake’s timing couldn’t be worse. He has a full belly and a place to stay for the night, and Glynda is finally done with work and ready to properly give him the loving he craves, and it all comes together right when Blake tells him he has to come with him right now or miss out on this opportunity to join ‘the family.’

Glynda, sensing that Xabar is considering leaving, steps to him from behind and wraps her arms around him. “You’re not leaving right now, are you, Xabar?” Her body feels very inviting, pressed against his back. Xabar can smell her hair; it has the scent of citrus, mixed with cooking oil, as if she had been deepfrying lemon wedges. It wasn’t the most sensuous aroma in the world, but feeling her hardened nipples rubbing against his back was getting him so aroused that she could have smelled like Hager’s socks at that point, and he’s still get a boner.

“Look, Blake,” he said, “can you give me a few minutes, anyway? I haven’t even had time to properly thank Glynda for letting me stay with her and her mom.” He gave Blake a knowing wink, but it didn’t take a master of body language to figure out what he was really saying. “I’m sure Mrs. Peterson would give you a drink downstairs while you wait; just tell her to put it on my tab.”

Blake sighed, looked at the clock again, and gave a half smile. “Alright. I suppose I can wait a few minutes, but please keep your expression of thanks relatively brief, ok? It’s been a long day, and tomorrow is going to be a lot of work, too. I’d like to get some sleep. Oh, and when you come down, you might want to bring a change of clothes and stuff in case you decide to head out with us.”

Xabar nods in agreement, but hardly hears what Blake has to say. His impatience, coupled with the fact that the blood that would normally feed his brain has now been redirected to between his legs, greatly diminishes his reasoning faculties.

No sooner does Blake close the door behind him than Xabar turns and faces Glynda. “Now then, where were we?”

He leans in to kiss her, but Glynda pulls back and takes her arms off of him. “What’s that he was saying? Are you leaving? You just got here!”

“Leaving? Whatever gave you that idea? Now come here and let me show you how thankful I am for your hospitality.”

Xabar takes a step toward Glynda, but she puts her hand on his chest and holds him at arm length. “He said to bring a change of clothes, in case you decide to head out with them. I heard it.”

“No, you misunderstood. His father’s prize bull got his head stuck in a hole in a wall, and I offered to help free it. The beast is powerful, and Blake thought I might want a change of clothes, in case something happens to these clothes while I’m working to get the animal’s head out.” Brushing her hand off his chest, he steps forward again and pulls her close, squeezing her ass as he kisses her neck.

“Oh... that makes sense,” says Glynda, relaxing into his touch. “I was afraid you were just here for a quick roll in the hay and were going to be gone in the morning.”

“Ridiculous,” murmurs Xabar, unbuttoning the back of Glynda’s dress. “I’m not that kind of guy. Besides, I have hay fever.”

Glynda took his face in her hands and looked at him sharply. “Hay fever? But why is it you always take me to the old Miller barn when we meet up? You’ve never complained about all the hay in there.”

“Only because you make me almost mad with passion, and if I didn’t bring myself to the verge of anaphalactic shock, I’d be too distracted by your love to concentrate in my classes, but now that I have no need to focus on school, I can give myself fully to you!”

He finishes unbuttoning Glynda’s dress and pulls it off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor around her feet as she processes his words.

“I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me!” she declares through tear-filled eyes.

She kisses him passionately as she helps him pull off his shirt. As she works on unfastening his pants, she begins to kiss her way down his neck and chest. Xabar moans with pleasure and anticipation, but suddenly she stops and examines his chest.

“Xabar! What are these marks on your chest? They look like hickies! Where did they come from?”

“I have no idea!” said Xabar, looking down at his chest. For once, he was actually telling the truth. Sort of. He knew of three possible sources of the hickies, assuming that they fade and go away within a week, but those three nights were all a bit of a fuzzy blur in his memory, so he couldn’t swear to who had the lips to match the marks.

If he had to guess, it would Nadine Woodbeier; she has an oral fetish like few other and could probably bring a guy to orgasm by the way she could suck on toes. She was further evidence to support Xabar’s theory that fat girls give the best head — mainly because they know they have to do something extra in order to get horizontal with a guy. Not that Nadine was necessarily obese, mind you. Surely that park bench was just old, in need of repair, and would have broken anyway.

“I really think those are hickies,” said Glynda, interrupting Xabar’s reminescence of that evening in the park.

“You are imaging things, Nadine—“

“Nadine?!”

“I mean, Glynda... I remember now that I got those marks from the other night when I stopped a highway robbery in action. Those are bruises from being struck repeatedly by a ruffian.”

“A robbery! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It was a trivial matter! Nothing to worry about. All I did was save the life of a countess and her infant child. I had totally forgotten about it until just now.”

“Oh, Xabar! You are so brave! I want to hear all about it!”

“And I will tell you about it. Tomorrow. Right now, I need to hurry. If I don’t rescue that prize bull soon, it could die.”

“You are so selfless! I just don’t even know how to tell you what that means to me!”

Xabar puts a finger over her lips and says, “Why don’t you show me, instead?”

Guiding her into her room and removing her undergarments, Xabar lowers Glynda onto her bed and spreads her legs. He pulls off his pants and underwear, and just as the last of his clothing hits the floor, the door to the apartment flings open. He turns and sees Mrs. Peterson, scowling, leading Blake painfully behind her, with her fingers clasped firmly on his earlobe.

“What, in the name of my father’s hairy kneecap, is the meaning of THIS?” she demands.

“What now?” thinks Xabar.