Good lord.
Her reddish brown hair that was sleek and straight and halfway down her back appears to be gone. It’s a different shade and cut high, or maybe it’s just the lack of light. Or is that a wig that goes with her costume?
And she went from a rail thin beanpole to a woman with hips. When did she get those curves?
And the curve in her hips isn’t the only one I’m doing my best not to ogle at. That tight red spandex suit is hugging her form like my motorcycle hugs a sharp turn. And she doesn’t have to turn around for me to see she’s got a curve to her backside too…one I want to slap my hand down on hard feeling it jiggle as I knead it in my hand like a baker and his dough.
And how about that yellow superhero logo that draws my eye right to her very developed chest?
Did she knock on my door just to show me she’s turned into an absolute knockout?
And if I keep staring at her I’m going to need some time alone in the shower the second she’s gone to knockout something else, as in the pain quickly shooting through my balls.
“Let me get you some candy,” I say, taking a step back and trying to keep my mind from thinking about how sweet Penelope must taste. “Please, come in,” I say.
Penelope goes to take a step, but little Edna Mode just stands there.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Penelope said we shouldn’t enter a stranger’s house.”
“I’m not a stranger,” I say, but Edna Mode doesn’t budge.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, realizing a quick second to myself is better anyways. I make it to the kitchen where my forearm finds the bar and my head finds my forearm.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before grabbing a shot glass and quickly filling it with bourbon and tipping the whole thing back.
I’ve never been unable to catch my breath like this in my life. I’m never out of breath like this even after a hard workout…one where I push truck tires up hills or do sprints for an hour straight with only fifteen second breaks in-between.
I just had a physical last week. I’m thirty-eight now and as a man approaches forty apparently things start to break down.
But right now I’m very apparently up.
I open my eyes and see the very clear erection you can’t miss trying to pierce my shorts. Damn, I can’t go back out there like this.
I run into my bedroom and grab a pair of compression shorts. I take off my shorts and slide on the compression shorts, trying to press my erection up against my stomach. It’s so damn hard it’s already pointing straight up.
Perfect.
I slide the shorts back on and then hike them up high.
I run back into the kitchen and find some junk food.
“I shouldn’t be eating this stuff anyways,” I say to myself.
“Everything okay in there?” Penelope calls out from the front door.
“Yeah. Be right there,” I say.
I grab a couple candy bars from the fridge and head back to the door, and the woman who’s completely showed up out of nowhere and turned my world upside down.
“Here ya go,” I say to the little girl, dropping a Snickers into her bucket.
“And this is for you,” I say handing the other candy bar to Penelope before I realize what it is.
“Thanks I’ve never had a…whoa,” she says as she reads the label. “A ten-inch white chocolate bar,” she says.
“Amazing these concepts that Toblerone is coming up with all the time,” I say trying not to think of the ten-inch bar that’s a lot more like steel and a lot less like chocolate that twitches underneath my underwear and two pairs of shorts at her words.
“Thank you, Mr. Boudreaux,” little Edna Mode says.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” I say. I don’t think I’ve ever called a kid, or anyone, that in my life. But there’s just something about seeing this little girl standing there with one hand in Penelope’s that makes me think about what it would be like for us to have our own kid one day.
I chase the thought from my mind quickly, but it comes right back.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Boudreaux,” Penelope says.
“Nice to see you too,” I say, the most obvious understatement of my lifetime. But oh do I want to see a lot more of her…with that costume off. “Are you going to be in town for awhile?” No way is this conversation going to end without me getting her number.
She smiles and then the cutest little giggle escapes her lips.
Sweetheart. Cutest little giggle. What in the hell’s wrong with me? These feminine words have suddenly entered my mind completely out of nowhere.
And sweetheart and cute are the last things on my mind when it comes to my thoughts of Penelope right now.