I Shaved My Legs For This?

by HJ Bellus

  “Going to close up the shop.” I hear his footsteps back away. “Then I’ll be back.”

  “No!” My anus decides to let a deadly combination of gas, liquid, and solid out at this moment. In the back of mind, I think what a perfect way it would be to teach fifth graders about the importance of the state of solids, and then I realize I’m shitting my brains out in the front of my love.

  “I am going to close up the shop since you ran everyone else off. I’ll be right back.”

  He doesn’t shut the door when he leaves. There’s a sliver of light beaming in the bathroom. I’ve only experienced the flu like this once before, and it hit just as hard and fast with no forgiveness. It was New Year’s Eve many years ago, and I was eating tons of gummy bears.

  The next morning was an amazing array of all the colors merging expelling from my body. I guess growing up does suck since there are no fun colors this time. Just pain. My throat is raw and well my butthole is on fire. Like level three inferno, high-level, the forest is about to combust seriousness. I’m sure my flesh is being eaten away by acid.

  Once the inside of my body finally calms down, I decide to stand up. I mean what else does one do after shitting and puking their entire soul out? I stand up on wobbly legs and immediately lose all willpower and energy to move another step. I fall gracefully to my knees and then fold over on the cold, tile floor of the bathroom. When my burning cheek connects with the tile, I begin to close my eyes.

  It was like a paid advertisement on “As Seen On TV…” I committed to the whole act. I should be embarrassed as an adult who yelled, poop. Poop. Poop. Then nearly vomited and shit herself to death, but the chilled tile is so sweet. Like Martha Stewart excellent. I wonder if she waxes her cooch? If she did, Martha would be the complete package. I’d train my tongue to lick tang the rest of my life. I’d whack my hair off and be committed entirely to pussy the rest of my life. Martha would cook, clean, wax my vagina. Vagina? Why am I dreaming about vaginas with a dry throat and picturing Martha Stewart?

  “Babe.” My shoulder shakes. “Let’s go.”

  I crack my eyes open to see Diesel lifting me up into his arms. My throat is scratchy, and it reeks.

  “You smell like poop and puke.” I point at him when he sets me in the car. “But you’re so sexy. Like Martha as in Stewart sexy.”

  I hear the door slam and then the engine roar to life.

  “Baby, if you need to puke please say something. Driving us home. Will get you in a hot bath soon.”

  “What’s the code word?” I manage to croak through my throat that feels like a sticker patch.

  “You tell me.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

  “What about cacacacacacacaca-caaaaa?” My voice shatters, but I manage to get the bird sound out.

  “Sounds good,” he replies.

  I roll around in his back seat. I’m roasting hot, but also clammy. I feel weak beyond belief, but thank God, the puking-pooping combo sensation has dimmed out for a bit. I feel thirsty. Like, I need a whole river of water to calm down the Savannah dessert threatening to take over my skeleton.

  “Here, baby.” The door opens, and I hold up my arms much like a toddler would.

  “Water. Thirsty. Dying.”

  Diesel grimaces at me, and I wonder if it’s my lovely aroma or the memory of me puking and shitting at the same moment.

  “Here.” He hands me a bottle of water before picking me up.

  I chug it like I’m the World Champion Hot Dog Eater. Diesel doesn’t miss a beat packing me up the stairs to his loft apartment. Once the water hits my belly, it’s back on like Donkey Kong.

  My cacacacaca-caaaa comes out garbled, but he catches on in the nick of time letting me throw up over the stairs. Water was a nice thought, guess my stomach didn’t agree.

  “I’m going to kill whoever got me this sick,” I whisper.

  “I’ll help you,” Diesel adds.

  “I haven’t licked the monkey bars in years or ate out of the bins at the grocery store. How in the hell did I get this?”

  “Old Man had it last week. It’s just circulating,” he pauses to unlock the door to his apartment. “Did you use to lick the monkey bars?”

  I nod feeling dizzy and lightheaded all over again. “It was my specialty in fourth grade. Made my nemesis Emily eat shit every time.”

  “Jesus Christ, woman. Only you could make me laugh in a situation like this.” He lays me down on the couch and then rushes off to the bathroom.

  My eyelids are extremely heavy, but the pain in my gut is too overpowering. I curl up in a ball wishing for a swift death. My stomach rolls a few more times, and I know it’s back. I sit up slowly knowing I need to move fast, but unable to convince my body of that fact. I will not shit my pants; I will not shit my pants…I chant to myself over and over while making my way to the bathroom.

  “Out. Now.” I order Diesel who’s bent over the tub pouring bubbles in the water.

  “Oh, Scout.” He turns to me.

  “Please for the love of diarrhea, and the last shred of my dignity, get out.”

  He drops his head and leaves the room just in time to miss the puking-shitting 2.0 session. It’s not as violent this time but still throttles my entire body. It ends, and it seems the monster in the belly is done throwing a fit. I strip off my clothes, find my toothbrush in Diesel’s vanity and brush my teeth. I don’t use his mouthwash because I don’t want him sick.

  Thank fuck the woodsy masculine scent of his soap fills the bathroom. I sink into the tub, wet the rag, and then place it on my forehead. The light pressure is perfect. I let my eyes close and drop into the hot water. The flu gives in letting me find slumber. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep when running water wakes me up.

  “Shhhh, it’s okay. Your water is getting cold.” Diesel’s perched on the side of tub up by the faucets.

  “Am I dead?” I croak out.

  “No,” he shakes his head and grins.

  “It’s not funny. It hurts.”

  “Bath helping?” He asks.

  I nod slow enough not to make me dizzy. I reach up a foot to run under the hot water flowing from the faucet. Diesel catches my foot and begins massaging it.

  “You are perfect.”

  He doesn’t respond but just keeps massaging my foot.

  “Not many men would do this, you know?” I offer him my other foot. “Where did you come from? I’m starting to think you’re an alien sent here to make other men look like dicks.”

  He chuckles lightly then grows somber. “Raised by a single mom and was by her side while she fought cancer.”

  I remove the towel from my forehead and let it sink into the tub of water. My heart hurts now instead of my stomach. Pity is the last thing Diesel is asking for, but he’s breaking me. I finally find the right words.

  “She was very blessed to have you.”

  He shrugs. “I miss her all the fucking time.”

  I sit up and feel my world spin and stomach lurch. My lips are dying to kiss him at this moment.

  “I really, really want to kiss and hold you right now.”

  He grins shyly. “Just can’t resist me, eh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “It was the worst days of my life watching her die. At one point, I had to do everything for her. Ripped my soul out and that’s when I went on my adventure and found you.”

  I smile up at him. “Thank God you took the journey.”

  I pause briefly before I speak again. “I’m about to shit myself again. Out partner.”

  He doesn’t laugh or smile, but a gentle concern covers his features. “If you’re still this sick in a few hours I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “Poop,” I shout this time.

  Diesel bolts for the door. I slip and slide my way across the tile and make it to the toilet in time. I rinse off in the tub one more time before pulling on one of Diesel’s t-shirts. It hangs low on my thighs. I slip into a pair of clean panties he also placed
in the bathroom. It’s insane how our two separate lives have merged so naturally and quickly.

  “Bed.” His arms are crossed over his chest. “I have some Gatorade on the nightstand you should sip on.”

  “I need to clean up the bathroom.”

  He whirls me around, so I face the entrance of the room, then guides me there with his palms on top of my shoulders. He has a trashcan on the side of the bed along with several towels piled high.

  “I should go home or at least sleep on the couch. You’re going to get the crud.”

  He answers me by picking me up and cradling me to his chest like a newborn. He leans in and kisses my forehead. The touch is enough to curb my hunger for his lips. I’m laid gently in the bed with the crisp sheets, and down-filled duvet pulled up to my chin.

  “Not a chance. Try to sleep,” Diesel turns leaving the room.

  His bed is heavenly, hugging my body perfectly. I can’t find sleep, but my entire body relaxes. The pain is gone for now leaving me lethargic and drained. Soon the scent of bleach fills the room, and I hear Diesel clattering around in the bathroom. It makes my heart ache at how naturally he took care of me without giving it a second thought. Any other man would have run, and then texted in a few days to see if the coast was clear.

  After the shower turns off so do all the lights in the house. I feel the bed dip and then his body heat up against my back. He’s the big spoon cuddling with the little spoon.

  “You’re freezing, baby.”

  “I can’t warm up,” I mumble. “I have the chills, too.”

  “Come here.” He pulls me further into him clutching me tightly.

  “Tell me more about your mom, Diesel.”

  And that’s how I finally find slumber after an active day that could be summed up in two words…the shits.

  Chapter 13

  Three days of hell and I personally think I need a fucking gold medal. Once the shits and puking ceased, I was exhausted and unable to move, just sleeping in bed one whole day. Diesel’s bed that is. He refused to let me go home. Checked on me at lunch and then never worked late. He was by my side making me fall more and more in love with him.

  My appetite is minimal at best. Drinking is no problem, but thought of a full meal makes me sick. However, Diesel’s appetite hasn’t diminished. The man has been bingeing on frozen pizza and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. So, I dragged my ass to the grocery store to show my thanks for the man in the form of grilled steaks, sautéed mushrooms, scalloped potatoes, and a green salad.

  After I bought all the groceries, I promptly went over to my mother’s house so she could fix it all. Hey, it’s the thought that counts not how you get there. Nothing surprises the woman anymore when it comes to me. She chopped, diced, and marinated ingredients then sent me home with the steaks to grill. There’s a slim chance I won’t fuck anything up. Even though it’s slim there’s still a damn chance.

  The music is blaring, and I’m floating around the kitchen like a goddamn every day Betty Crocker. The potatoes and mushrooms are in the oven. I pop open a bottle of wine I stole from my mom’s collection and take the steaks to the grill. Diesel texted me about ten minutes ago, telling me he was on his way.

  His grill is well-loved where his oven and stovetop look brand new. I make sure to start the grill before stripping down to my naked plan. A girl can only handle so much pain. I don’t need to fry my lady locker in the process. Once the steaks are grilling on low, I bounce back into the kitchen and strip down. I only have the salad left, but when I glance back out to his patio, I realize I haven’t thought this plan through very well.

  Anyone in the city would see me naked up here. I shrug, determined this special treat for Diesel won’t be ruined. I pull the bowl of salad from the fridge and give it a little shake mixing all the cut veggies together and then laugh when my boobs jiggle in unison. I had to buy a bottle of Ranch since Diesel is a Thousand Island kinda guy.

  I give it a little shake before peeling back the label on the cap. When I twist the cap the bottle sharts everywhere.

  “Mother fucker.” I lick a blob of Ranch off my forearm then grab a rag to clean up the mess.

  The front door slams as I’m bent over, ass in the air wiping up the last of the mess.

  “Please tell me that’s you, Diesel.” I peer between my legs and see an upside down sexy man.

  He clears his throat. “Do you have a fever?”

  I can hear the amusement in his voice. I slowly stand up showcasing my sexy body then turn to him. “Now, why would you ever think that?”

  “High fevers lead to people losing their mind and just all this…” He points to me and the mess in the kitchen I’ve managed to stir up.

  “No.” I blow my bangs out of my face. “I was trying to do something special for you. Keyword trying.”

  “Oh yeah, and what would that be?” He asks pulling me to him by my hip.

  He stops before my naked body collides with the front of his. Diesel leans down and begins sucking dabs of Ranch off my tits.

  “Hey, you said you hated Ranch!” I pull back a bit, but it doesn’t stop him.

  “I do, but when it’s on your fucking gorgeous tits. I’m just a man who loves Ranch on tits.”

  “Mmmm. Okay.” I run my fingers through his hair, tugging on it gently.

  And moan when he sinks his mouth around my nipple. My hips buck into him asking for more. Our three-day dry spell has left me wanting, needy, and downright horny in a whore-ish way. His fingers sink into me and I buck until my release has me screaming and arching into him.

  When I come down from my high, that’s when I smell it.

  “Is your hair on fire?” I ask then immediately remember the steaks. “Fuck!”

  I push off his chest. “The meat is on fire.”

  Diesel assumes it’s one of my corny-ass jokes, but the meat actually is on fire. I race for the small sliding glass door that leads to his terrace.

  “Whoa, you’re not going out there naked.” He grabs me by the arm.

  “The steaks…”

  He’s put out the dinner, fetching them from the grill before I can finish my thought. The man is clearly not a fan of a well-done steak. I can’t help but smile at his disheveled state when he makes it back inside. He’s covered in grease and in desperate need of a shower. There’s something seriously sexy about a hardworking man, though.

  My appetite is barely there, but Diesel in this state right now is making me hungry. Very, very hungry.

  “Please tell me you didn’t go out there naked.”

  I just shrug my shoulders and take the plate from him. I sit it down quickly and grab him a beer. He’s running his hand through his hair staring at my naked body.

  “Sit, dirty boy.” I push him back until he plops down in a chair.

  I pop the top of his beer and hand it to him. Diesel’s long sexy legs are spread wide while he’s slouched back in the chair.

  “Wait.” I grab the beer and set it on the table and then pull his shirt up and off. Then I give him his beer back and scurry for my phone.

  “Put the beer closer to your dick.”

  He gives me a curious stare. “Now.”

  He finally relents and props the beer near the glory land.

  “Now give me smolder.”

  “Scout,” he warns, but eventually gives in while I snap a picture.

  “Perfect, now sit there, and I’ll get you dinner.”

  “Why the picture?” He asks while I prepare his plate.

  “My spank bank or flick bank whatever you call it.” I nearly lose the plate when I turn to see him tipping back his beer.

  “And what’s this all about?” He gestures to the plate of food.

  “Me thanking you for taking care of me.”

  He palms my bare ass with one hand. “And this?”

  “Another thank you and hopefully dessert.”

  His lips curl up in a dazzling smile making him irresistible.

  “You feeling be
tter, baby?” He asks, forking his food with his other hand.

  “Yes.” I curl up in his lap. “Still not much of an appetite for food, though.”

  “But you cooked all this for me?”

  He doesn’t make eye contact since he’s too pre-occupied with shoveling in the potato dish. Technically, I did cook all of it. And when you have a severe disability when it comes to cooking then little white lies seem acceptable.

  “Yes.” I gently massage the back of his neck.

  “Goddamn baby, you were holding out on me. Thought you only did cheese sticks and Hot Pockets.”

  “I have some secrets and tricks up my sleeve.” I kiss his cheek and then get up so he can cut his steak.

  The smell of the potatoes has all of a sudden made me a bit hungry, so I grab a small plate of them and join Diesel at the table.

  “I’d planned on stripping you naked, and we’d dine together in our birthday suits creating our little tradition.” I nibble on a slice of potato. “But you distracted me and almost made me burn the meat.”

  “You’re adorable.”

  “I do plan on riding you like there’s no tomorrow, so eat up, dirty boy,” I wink at him.

  He reaches over and grabs my hand. “I was worried about you.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Ah, it was just the flu.”

  “Sucks seeing a person you…”

  “Say it,” I taunt him.

  “Love in pain.”

  “You love me,” I sing over and over.

  And I swear to Christ the man cub inhales his steak in three bites and has me over his shoulder leaving his handprint on my bare ass cheek.

  “Time for dessert. I missed my girl.” He tosses me back on the bed.

  The blankets swallow me up, and then my dirty grease boy pounces on me. Our mouths connect and don’t let go for a long time while our tongues tangle together. It seems like it’s been years and it’s really only been three days. I’m so deep into this man that I’m screwed. If I thought Taylor destroyed me and broke my heart, then this man will kill me.

  Diesel was correct in the fact he’d missed his girl. He showed me over and over until we both collapsed into a sweaty mess. He drew a bath for us, and here we lay, soaking.