Pandora’s bra

I must’ve stood in front of Nixie’s doorstep with my tongue lolling like a dog’s for fifteen minutes. Fifteen fucking minutes; can you believe that?

“Hey Mike!� Nixie says flashing a smile that could melt the polar icecaps.

“Seriously Nixie, how do you expect me not to rip your clothes off like a boy opening a Christmas present when you…� I decided not to finish the sentence and opted to smile like an idiot instead.

“…look so damn hot?� She offered.

She was wearing a pink miniskirt and some sort of silky baby blue blouse with one of those stylish fabric belts. Even her raven black hair is styled differently, parted and pulled back neatly with a ponytail allowing her pretty face to stand out. She’s wearing wedges. The truth was, I was about to ask her ‘How do you expect me not to fall for you when you look like a different gorgeous girl every time I meet up with you?’ but I decided at the last second that she might interpret that to mean that I’m fantasizing about different girls instead of what I really meant – That she abso-fucking-lutely looks lovely every time I see her.

“You read minds now too huh? Tell me something you can’t do.� I said feeling lousy with my rolled up long sleeved button down, black slacks and grimy shoes.

“Well come on in!� She said taking in what I was wearing. Shit.

“Nixie, I was meaning to ask you; I mean, I’m not the type of guy who normally goes nuts over perfume, but I can’t resist the one you’re wearing now. What’s it called?� I ask stepping in and closing the door behind me.

She turns to face me after turning on the stereo. Alicia Keys’ sang ‘If I aint got you’ on cue “I’m not wearing any.� She smiles teasingly. “Maybe you should just come to terms with the fact that what you can’t resist is me.� My heart skipped a beat.

“Shut up, what is it?�

“I don’t fucking know, Jesus! Do you speak French? Whatever this thing’s called it has a lot of French words in it. My mom gave this to me as a gift from her tour in Paris couple of months ago. Too bad you like it Mikey; I’m sure as hell am going to have a hard time finding another bottle when this runs out.�

“I’ll have to find one for you if that’s the case. It turns me on, rawwwrrr!� I said looking down at the plastic bag brimming with cholesterol laden food items I got from Wendy’s on the way here. “Hey Nixie, I’m sorry, I didn’t have the decency to pick up real food on the way here. Everything else was closed for the day.�

“No! I’m actually craving Wendy’s, did you get me the instant heart attack meal?� She said taking the plastic bags from me. “You know what’s weird is that you resigned from your Call center job yet your work schedule’s still iffy.�

“Yeah tell me about it. So do you want to eat now? Are you hungry?�

“I’m not that hungry.� She says.

“Are you sure?�

“Yeah, I’ve been practically snacking all day reviewing for a blasted exam plus I ate a couple of cookies I bought downstairs. Yes, I know, don’t tell me. Death by Starbucks.�

“Are you really sure?�

I’d like to point out that one of the most annoying things with regards to a relationship like ours is all the contriving you do to second guess each other, just to make sure that neither of you is making unnecessary adjustments for each other. ‘Are you sure you want to watch that movie? We can watch something else if you want…’ that kind of shit. I sometimes wish there’d be time limits kind of like the ones they have in quiz shows for things like these. BUZZZZZ! Time’s up Contestant #1. You and your partner are going to watch Anna Luna reruns on TV whether you like it or not.

“Let’s eat later Mikey, okay?� She says, arranging her blouse, which in addition to being silky is also very thin.

“Okay.� I gawk at her making it a point to let her catch me. She smiles.

“You know what I really want to do?� She asks putting her hands on my shoulders.

“No I don’t.� I said trying my best to act unfazed.

“I want to dance. Do you want to?� No fucking way. I don’t dance! “Maybe we could give this entire night the JS Prom anticipation and after the ball, we’ll go in there.� She said motioning to her bedroom. On second thought, maybe tonight’s a good night to learn how to dance.

“Okay.� I said, feeling my breath grow heavier by the second.

“Slow or fast?� She asks running a finger behind my right ear.

“Fast! No! Slow!� Chill Mike! You’re on this!

She taps on the remote control and her stereo magically comes to life. Alicia Keys was on cue again.

Some people want it all, but I don’t want nothing at all, if it aint you baby…If I aint got you baby…

“Don’t you just love Alicia Keys?� She asks.

“I do, but this song sounds sappy as opposed to the duet she did with Usher.� I said tensing away from her a bit.

“Sappy is better.� She says, pulling me closer by the waist. And then were off dancing, or rather, moving awkwardly from one leg to the other. Is this really dancing? Who give a flying fuck? The thing is I’m standing intimately close to her, savoring her French perfume, appreciating the scent of her hair, noticing details like a cluster of freckles on her back or the tiny mole on her nose.

I’m a good five inch taller than Nixie so she sort of has her head nestled on my chest. One of her hands was on my shoulder and the other one around my waist. Perfect fit if you ask me. I hunch down to give her a kiss.

Five to ten seconds into the kiss, slow dancing to Alicia Keys gave way to bigger, more interesting things. One of her hands was undoing my belt while I, again, am struggling with this perplexing thing of a lock that is sadistically denying me access under her bra. Don’t you ever wonder who designs these things? Jesus. I mean, I understand that it’s important for bras to be tightly clasped so boobs won’t make public appearances at ill-timed moments; But do they have to be this fucking complicated too?

I was feeling blindly for the Swiss army knife in my pocket when my phone rang.

–Villar, Delia—

It was my mom.

“Jesus Mike, please tell me you’re not answering that.� She kind of whispers while working on unbuttoning my shirt.

No I won’t; especially when I finally solved the puzzle of the bra.

Without using the knife.