Page 13 of Stroked by (Stroked)
“Watch it,” he says, rubbing his chest. “I forgot to wear an undershirt today, the nips are a little chafed.”
“Not my problem. Don’t give me hell over something you would do too.”
“If I were a lady,” he drawled out.
I look up at him and laugh. “You would be one hell of an ugly lady.”
He pauses. “I would love to defend you on that point, but unfortunately I have to agree. I tried on one of your dresses once, and I just don’t think I have the hips or the bone structure to pull off a womanly sway.”
“You did not put on one of my dresses.”
He nods his head. “In college, for a stupid commercial my buddies and I had to do for a project. It was late, we had procrastinated and needed a shot of a guy talking to a woman. So, I took one for the team, put on your red dress and a wig and stood in. Let’s just say, we barely passed the project. The teacher wasn’t impressed with the broad-back hairy Mary in the commercial. He could tell we didn’t follow through on casting.”
“Obviously.” I laugh. “Do you have evidence of this?”
He shakes his head. “No, we deleted that shit as quickly as possible. It would be damaging to all of our careers today if it ever got out. It was total piss.”
“If it had you starring as Lady in Red, I can believe it was total piss.”
“Maybe one day I will reenact it all for you.”
“Don’t play with my heartstrings,” I reply, holding my hands to my chest in a silent plea.
“Get me good and drunk, flash me your boobs, and then maybe I’ll consider it.”
I make a disgusted sound and push him away.
“What?” He holds up his hands and smirks at me. “You may be my best friend, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see your boobs. It’s a natural wonderment. I bet if I didn’t walk around naked you would be curious too. I’ve seen your ass plenty of times, what’s a little T to go with that A?”
“First, you’re not doing anyone any favors by being bare for the world to see. Second, you’re not seeing my boobs. Ass is different. All butts look the same.”
“False,” he points out. “Your ass does not look like everyone’s.”
A slight blush creeps up my face. “Are you saying I have a nice butt?”
“Hell yeah,” he says. “Those squats have done you well. Now let me see if your chest presses have worked out for you just the same.”
“No!” I laugh.
“Come on, just let me see them. It’s more for observation than anything.”
“How do you say that? As if you’ve never seen a pair of boobs before.”
His smile turns into a devious one. “I’ve never seen pierced nipples before.”
Rolling my eyes, I get up off the couch and grab the empty wrapper to my burrito. “Better put out a want ad then, because there is no way you’re seeing my boobs. Not for any kind of observation.”
He hangs over the back of the couch as he talks to me. “What about if I need to inspect them for infection? Or lumps? I really think we are doing each other a disservice by not doing random lump checks. Want to hold my balls while I cough?”
“Not even a little bit,” I call out from the kitchen.
“Fine, but you’re truly missing out on a fantastic opportunity. Can you at least grab me a beer while you’re in there?”
“Only if you promise not to walk around naked anymore.”
He grumbles to himself, and to my surprise, gets off the couch and rummages through the fridge to grab his own beer. Using the fridge magnet we have that doubles as a bottle opener, he pops off the top and takes a long swig of his beer.
With my hand on my hip, resentment evident in my voice, I say, “You’re that adamant about being naked?”
