Page 12 of Mowed Over

Chapter 8: Ben

A sliver of sunlight is glinting off my alarm clock, blinding me. I was already awake when the sun came up. Awake, with a serious case of morning wood. Fantasizing about Lilah isn't cutting it lately. I'm a walking ball of sexual frustration at this point. It's been a week since she drunkenly threatened me in that little red dress, and I've been slowly dying every day since. If I could just see Lilah, I'd be happy. Bonus points if I can talk to her. I have a plan, but it's not a good one.

Desperation finally overrules my common sense and just a few minutes later I'm dressed and walking toward the shed in my backyard. An angel and a demon are having a cage match on my shoulder. The demon is winning. I unlock the shed door and pull it open. Inside, my shiny black lawnmower glints in the sunshine that filters through the shed windows.

I know I shouldn't do this, but she's been avoiding me since her drunk visit and I just know she's embarrassed. I can't get her out of my head. It plays on repeat; the red dress, the way she laughed and then turned around and threatened my lawnmower… Even in heels, she barely came up to my shoulders, but it didn't stop her from poking me in the chest ferociously. I guess I've gotten used to the way most people look at me. I hit my growth spurt in middle school and didn't stop growing until I outstripped everyone I knew. It's not just my height either. I bulked out like a linebacker the second I started lifting weights. Most people find me alarmingly large, but Lilah doesn't seem to mind at all. She just looked up at me with those stunning green eyes, trying to glare at me. Fearless.

Maybe that's why I'm completely distracted by her. In the end, the "why" of it doesn't really matter. I just know that my need to see her again is almost all-consuming. And maybe this is a dick move, but I think it's my best option at this point. Am I being a petulant child? Maybe. Is it worth it if I get to see her again? Absolutely. Especially if she comes out wearing those little bird slippers again.

As I wheel my lawnmower out of the shed, I wonder how mad she'll be.


Tags: Mae Harden Sonoma Erotic