This story, as is all stories, isn't written for everyone. If you enjoyed it, thank you very much and you're welcome. If not, thank you for visiting.
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It was cold. Witching cold. The wind went up my nostrils and froze my innards hurting like shattered mini ice cycles blowing around. I was way across the parking lot. It was mostly empty now but full when I got here so I had to park way off like this. I slipped a little getting to the car and a little going home. I got in the garage and got the door closed and sat there a minute or two. It wasn't a long enough drive to get the heater going very much.
I went in the house and mom had hot chocolate ready. I always drank hot chocolate on days like this. It was too hot but I sat there with all my stuff on holding it with my gloved hands breathing in the chocolate steam to warm up my nostrils. Mom left me alone. She knew it took a little while with me. Dad was home somewhere. Usually warm in the den reading the paper. He had sense.
After a little while dad came in the kitchen. Mom probably told him to come say hello and stuff. She meddles. I didn't mind that much. She cared a lot about us.
"You look like a frozen popsicle Charlie," he said. "I know its cold out there. We had three trucks this morning that wouldn't even turn over. It's gotta end sometimes. Anything I can get you?"
"I got it," I said. "Hot chocolate. Warms the something of my heart."
I almost bit my tongue. Saying 'something' instead of 'cockles' was even worse than saying it right. Dad smiled and winked at me in my momentary misery. He knew what my cold mind did. He patted me on the back and kissed my forehead and went back to the den, smiling.
Dad had an embarrassing operation on his manly aberration at long last and is not yet up to snuff or at full tilt. I've got a million of them. Mostly said to me by close friends that know about it. The last time I picked him up at work his boss said, 'is your dad saluting yet'. His hunting friend said, 'he lost his shotgun and has to use his pistol for a while, that's all. It's probably a derringer anyway'. His barber said, 'snip, snip'. When he and mom went out to eat one night at his favorite restaurant, which is owned by a close friend of his, the waiter put a lit candle on the table about a half inch high. A couple of minutes later it went out. There was a rumor the howitzer misfired on the marine base and that was blamed on dad.
Mom and I think he's fine. He's not up and running but we think he's running. Mom says we have to find a way to get him going. I don't know what she means by 'we'. She said she was going to get some new sexy duds. She said she was going to get one of those little vibrators and sneak it up on him while he's asleep. She says she's going to rent one of those movies and get some wild women magazines like the bikers buy. I said to just give him time. I used to say, give 'it' time, but changed it to 'him'. I think for mom it was like sitting around waiting for the popcorn to pop. The more time went by the more odd she got.
Life is really strange when you go day to day thinking about dad's thing and your mom needing some sex and you're trying to figure out a way to help both. I try to help. Dad soaks sitting in the bath tub in hot water with the soaking stuff the doctor gave him. It was kind of awkward him having to soak so long by himself but I got a piece of Formica covered kitchen counter material and drilled four holes and screwed some big dowels hanging down. It fits across the tub and the dowels keep it from racking and hides dad. He uses the top to read the paper and put something to drink on and mom and I can sit on the side and dribble our fingers in the water and rub his lower legs with our fingertips and splash a little water up underneath.
One time he got the devil in him and said, "You look like you could use a long soak yourself. Want to climb in and soak with me? You can use the other end of the table you made. I could close my eyes when you got in and out and you could wear a bra."
I said, "What do we do with our legs? The tub isn't all that long."
"You could put yours beside my hips sometimes and I could put mine beside yours sometimes," he said. "It's long enough for that."
"True, true," I said. "It might be a little cramped. I'm not sure there's enough room for that. Let me think about it. In the meantime enjoy your soak."
I rubbed his ankle again and dried my hand and slipped out of the bathroom. Mom was standing beside the door in the hall with her finger on her mouth to be quiet. We quiet walked back to the living room.
Mom said, "You know, that's not that bad of an idea. When he's soaking you could go in and take everything off and get in the tub. Put your legs under his thighs and his will be over yours. He'll be looking at your breasts and knowing you're necked right in front of him with your legs open. He won't be able to see that. Tell him to close his eyes when you start. That should do something. I think it's worth a try. What do you think?"
"Mom, I'll be glad to do whatever I can do," I said, "but I don't want to lead dad on like that. I'm sure he was just kidding me and I was kidding him back. Wouldn't he be upset if you walked in on us necked in the tub together?"
"I can easily fix that," she said. "He won't be bothered by me knowing in the least. Leave that to me. What do you think? Maybe tomorrow's soaking. Could you do it then?"