Lana #2
I’m jostled around a little longer before I’m finally released, and then I hug her in a calmer, more comfortable manner. Then I show her I can also speak her language by squeezing her as hard as I can… which makes her burst out laughing.
“Little sister, we have got to get you into the site gym to build some muscle. The guys won’t take you seriously around here if they don’t think you can help with any of the heavy lifting.”
“Bulking up is out of the question,” I say, keeping my face dead-serious.
“I need to maintain a certain weak, diminutive look because it makes stronger people feel good about themselves when they can offer to help. Their choice between helping or not helping also gives them a sense of power and control, which most people enjoy, and raising morale aids productivity, so ego boosts are always a priority in my line of work. You see? I don’t need to work out. ”
Martha laughs and throws an arm around my shoulders as she guides me toward her trailer. “I love your jokes.”
“I love that you know I was joking.”
She chuckles again and welcomes me inside.
“That one was obvious. The truth would be that you don’t need to work out because if you had to move something heavy, you’d use physics to do it single-handedly and in half the time, while you show a whole team of beefy fuckers that they’re the one’s who should ask for your help. You hungry?”
I shake my head.
“Beer, then. And don’t tell me your lack of appetite stems from the two-hour drive with Dad. Did he put you off your food? He doesn’t actually mean to rub you the wrong way. He really tries, Lana. I swear.”
I take the beer she’s offering and watch her drink as she pulls out sandwich fixings for herself.
“Dad can have that effect on me,” I admit, taking a drink. “Mostly I still feel full from three flights worth of mile-high delicacies.”
Martha covers her mouth as she rushes to swallow her mouthful of beer before cracking up. “Lana. You made that sound like you fucked big-dicked guys on every plane here.”
I laugh-snuffle a little myself as I scrunch my nose. “Yeah, upon review, I can hear that now. I didn’t do that.”
“Well, duh,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Three flights would likely mean three different guys, and you’re the monogamous type.”
“I am,” I agree with a smile as I sit at her little table and sip my beer.
“I did fuck a big-dicked guy last night, though. And I do still kind of feel full inside. Is that normal, or is it a big-dick thing? It’s a big-dick thing, isn’t it?
That’s why you made special mention when I said about feeling full of mile-high stuff. ”
Martha stares at me. She abandons her sandwich and comes to sit opposite me at the table.
“You fucked a big dick last night?”
“Yes. Twice.”
Martha sips her beer as she processes that.
“Twice, huh? You must have liked it, then.”
“Very much,” I reply with a grin.
Martha tries to suppress her matching smile, then nods. “Good. I’m pleased you found someone decent to help you with that.”
“Me too.” The residual high that had come back at recalling my time with Bates fades when I consider the reality of the situation. “I gave him my email address, but I don’t think he’ll use it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s… complicated. At first I thought he might not want it — he’s older, and I’m…
me. We had an amazing time together, but today…
today I learned he’s on the rebound from some hard things, and he’s also got a work situation that’ll make it really hard for him to… email me.” I shrug and study my beer.
“But you liked each other?”
I nod. “I really liked him.”
“And his big dick,” Martha says with a giggle.
“Yup.”
“Then, regardless of his unlikeliness to email you, I think it was a success.”
“You’re right. We should drink to it.” I finish my beer and gesture for another. “We should drink a lot, and then you should tell me where I’m sleeping so I can pass out there. I didn’t get any sleep last night, and it was totally worth it, but tomorrow will kill me if I don’t get some shuteye.”
Martha parks another beer in front of me and then reaches for her tequila and shot glasses. “Tomorrow might kill us both if we get too drunk,” she warns me.
“Maybe. But tonight we are sisters reunited, and we’re celebrating me losing my V-card to a big, beautiful man. How can we regret it? Hit me.”
We slam back our shots, and Martha holds up a hand like a stop sign. “Wait a sec. Do we need to do anything responsible first? One: where are your bags? And two: do you need to call your mom and tell her you made it here safely?”
“One: I don’t care. And two: she doesn’t care. More shots.”
Martha pours again with a sigh. “She cares.”
“Yeah, but she’s got four other much more perfect daughters and a perfectly perfect husband to keep her busy, so she won’t notice if I don’t call her till tomorrow or next week or whatever. Drink.”
“I’m cutting you off after five shots. Five is always enough to cure what ails you.”
“But it was a very nice and very big dick that tenderized both my vajingo and my heart, Martha. I’m feeling very ailed. I feel like a dozen shots would be a better prescription today. Maybe more.”
She stares at me and doesn’t pour another.
“Fine. Just… cut me off at ten.”
“Ten?”
I nod. “I’ll need a minimum of ten tequila shots to achieve the desired results.”
Martha eyeballs the high tide inside her tequila bottle, then shrugs and pours me another. “You’re the efficiency expert.”