The day began like all others, climbing out of bed at the crack of noon, devouring a Toaster Strudel and mayonnaise sandwich before braving the crisp Canadian weather by going to Vancouver's Public Market for fresh seafood now that I'm eating healthy. Along the way I passed a group of American hipsters vaping cannabis oil on a street corner, celebrating Tommy Chong's birthday. Damn Americans! Since Trump's election, they have flocked here like a silverfish infestation. Silverfish, that reminded me about the Public Market. Which is fortunate since I was standing in the middle of it, ranting about Americans, omitting the fact I'm from Ohio.
From the corner of my eye, I detected a short, attractive brunette waving a well-endowed cucumber around as if she was conducting Wagner, the Vegan years. Luckily I don't demand intelligence for a sexual tryst since she was asking the proprietor what size batteries the cucumber used. Being helpful to a flaw, I edged next to her meaning to elbow her in the ribs for clarification. Unfortunately, she was considerably shorter than I realized so instead of the ribs my elbow struck her directly in the right temple. She immediately hit the ground with a groan and a thud, to my bemusement. I mean...really? Here I am with possibly a fractured elbow and this bitch is sobbing and thrashing on the ground like Hillary on either her wedding or election night.
.
But being kind-hearted, I offered my hand to assist and possibly avoid incarceration. Her eyes were sparkling as she held my hand, possibly a concussion side effect.
"My name is Hannah. It's a pleasure meeting you."
As she rubbed her temple, she whispered, "Hi Hannah, I'm Winter...Winter Summer"
.
During this trading of aliases I let my eyes travel over her delicious ass, so curvy it needed warning signs...and I was warned. Leaning closer I whispered while handing her the fearful cucumber "I have all sorts of batteries at my place. The locals even refer to it as "Battery Manor."
"Do you have a D?" she asked?
"You tell me," I responded placing her hand on my left boob.
"I'd say a solid C," she said with a wicked grin (the best grin of all) after a firm squeeze as if checking a melon for freshness, she twirled as said "Let's go, Enchantress," and suddenly the game was afoot, Watson!
Knowing we would pass the vase clouds again, I stopped for another dozen donuts and a side order of nipple clamps before guiding this floozie home Along the way my hand gripped her toned butt cheek so tightly as if it were floating debris from the Titanic and I'm Kate Winslet. After finally getting her inside, and serenading her with a rousing rendition of Love Shack, I offered her a donut and chocolate milk. (Being the perfect hostess is so trying but was she satisfied?) You tell me as she asked, "Donuts and chocolate milk? What's for lunch; corn dogs and tater tots?" Damn, a sarcastic woman! I thought that was just an urban legend, but yet here I am with one
While her Highness dined, I moved to step two, bending to tie my Nikes and taking far too long, giving her the opportunity to gaze at my bottom. Apparently, it didn't work as well as I hoped since her lone observation was "What's wrong? Did you hurt your back?'
"Not yet" I muttered.
Then turning, spinning like a ballerina with an inner ear infection I stumbled behind her, massaging her soft shoulders and nibbling on her neck. What a messy eater she is. How did she get donut glaze on her neck? With her delicate moans inspiring me, my teeth began to tug at her taut skin like a sparkling vampire. In a hoarse whisper "Stand my pretty"