I'm no stranger to romance, but we aren't on a first name basis either. Which is why I'm excited about taking my new girlfriend to my family's Easter dinner. I don't think they've ever totally accepted my gayness since my sister still addresses my Christmas card to "Pervert" Gravel. Where are my manners? I'm Emma GraveI. I own a revival movie house in San Francisco. I try to play themed movies during the holidays. Christmas and Halloween are easy. As is Groundhog Day. But Easter is tough. Religious movies are not my forte. The only line I even know from an Easter movie is, "Jesus, I am your Father," delivered from on high by James Earl Jones. I was going out of town, so I delegated film selection to my two fellow movie buffs, Vanessa and Shannon. I'm sure, between them, they will find the only Easter slasher movie ever made.
My date and current lover is Katrina Waves, a super friendly, blond, leggy nurse who was very excited to meet my family. I've tried to warn her, telling her they are the inspiration for the infamous Manson family, although the Manson clan had better table manners. One problem I anticipate is the meal itself. Hogs devouring their last meal before entering the slaughterhouse are less noisy than my gluttonous fam. Also, since she's a nurse, she prizes nutrition. Hell, she even uses words like "antioxidants." Seriously, who is anti oxygen?
I was nervous about asking her home to meet them. Some timid girls are jumpy about going to the site of a chainsaw massacre and sequels, but she jumped at the opportunity (hurting my neck in the process since I was feasting between her legs at the time. Can you say "whiplash," boys and girls?) Her first question as she attached a neck brace to me: What kind of tofu will she serve? Oh yes, dear reader, there will be blood, like a Peckinpah movie. Being a trooper, she began planning her dessert, settling on lemon tart squares. I mumbled my approval into her pussy, which then echoed for five minutes. Never a good sign. I began to wonder if I could crawl inside her vagina for shelter like Luke Skywalker inside a tauntaun. Regardless, I decided to delete this topic from future pillow talk.
The night before, my love became even more anxious. Being helpful to a fault, I told her an orgasm is great for anxiety, as well as cholera, the vapors, swine flu, and restless leg syndrome. She misunderstood me, thinking I meant HER orgasm, not mine. Beautiful woman, but a little slow on orgasm distribution. We hadn't been together long when she informed me she wanted a monogamous relationship. I immediately accepted before then creeping away to look up "monogamous" in the old Webster. After learning the definition, I leafed back a few pages, looking up "loopholes." Still, happy and in love, I ignored the facts and invited her to shop for our Easter attire.
At the mall, I bought a simple, vee neck, floral, skater's dress from Macy's, very tasteful for me and for her a short, lacy, green kimono from Victoria's Secret, which she steadfastly refused to wear to dinner. If she wouldn't wear a kimono I began to worry she was racist, because there could be no other explanation. She woke me early Easter Sunday with sounds from the kitchen, preparing four dozen lemon tarts. By now, I was feeling anxious too so I opted for another sure-fire remedy. I smoked a Blue Dream fatty. Inspired, I marched naked into the kitchen, pulled her panties off in one classic motion, despite her protests, sat her on the counter and began the tongue lashing of a lifetime, the greatest cure for munchies since Double Stuff Oreos.
It was then I heard a man and woman clearing their throats in wondrous harmony behind us. My first thought was, "What are Johnny and June doing here?"
"Mom... Dad... this is Emma," she informed in a quivering voice. On shaky legs, I turned and walked to the future in-laws, shaking hands with the blushing Dad, but for some reason, Mom refused my welcoming kiss. Still trying to appear cool, I pretended to wipe the table with Katrina's panties, but only managed to leave a noticeable wet trail. But the familiar scent was better than any overpriced Yankee Candle, I can assure you.
Regaining my composure, I strolled jauntily to my lover, "Hey, baby, those smell great. But, speaking of lemon, have you seen the Lemon pledge? I need it to clean that enormous dildo you took in the ass, last night..." then recovering flawlessly, I quickly looked at her folks and said, "I am sooooo sorry... I meant in the behind!"