Free Baby Come Back by Andrea Smith Page B

wouldn’t turn over and see what I was doing.
                  “Much better,” he sighed, relaxing once again.  I continued to rub and knead his cheeks, lowering my face to get the light directed to the right places.  His right cheek looked to be free of birth marks as well.  I massaged down under the cheek, raising it up with my hands and there it was.  Fuck!  On the underside of his right cheek was a small, brownish flat birthmark which was indeed shaped like a three-pronged devils’ fork.  Shit!
                  I hadn’t realized that I had stopped rubbing him to focus on the birthmark until I heard his voice.
                  “What the hell are you looking for, Gina?  I promise I thoroughly washed my ass in the shower.”
                  (Oh shit!)
                  I dropped the pen light from my mouth and looked up to where I saw his head turned around watching me.  How in the hell was I going to explain this?  Anything other than the truth was going to sound like I had obvious issues.  If I told him the truth, then it would appear as if I thought he had lied to me.
                  “I know that, Tristan,” I laughed, killing time.  “I guess I was just curious about whether men ever got cellulite or not.”
                  He cocked an eyebrow, eyeing me suspiciously.  He debated as to whether or not I was being honest with him.  I was certain he couldn’t find any plausible reason that I would be lying about something so ridiculous.
                  “Well?”
                  “Well what?”
                  “Do I have cellulite on my ass?” 
                  “Nope, you’re good,” I said, giving him a slap on his butt cheek.  “You do have an interesting birthmark under your right cheek though.  It’s shaped like a devil’s fork. Did you know that?”
                  “That’s news to me,” he replied, shaking his head.  “Of course I will have to take your word for it since I’m unable to swivel my head 180 degrees and maneuver it down through my legs in order to verify.  I’m sure you and my mother are the only ones privy to that juicy little tidbit.”
                  (Well no, not exactly.)
                  “If you’re done with my backside, I’m ready to turn over, babe.  I kind of like the thought of you being on my front side.”
                  I switched off the pen light, tossing it over onto the night stand.  I climbed up onto Tristan and we spent the next hour rubbing oil onto each other and riding the slippery slide into our own special fuckfest.

CHAPTER 10
     
                  Another week passed without talking to Tylar.  It was obvious to me that I was going to have to be the one to make the first move.  I had no problem extending the olive branch; it just seemed to me that it would be nice if just once if it wasn’t me having to be the one to do it.  I didn’t mean just with Tylar; we had never had the occasion before to need one.  It seemed like a life-long thing with me.  My mother had always said that my quick tempered remarks would cause the need for it.  She had been right.  Still, I didn’t say anything to her that I hadn’t meant.  Tylar was just overly sensitive; or perhaps it had been the way I had delivered the message.
                  I dialed up her landline since the cell signals out in the boonies, where they lived, were sometimes problematic.  Jean answered the phone.  She told me that Tylar was napping.  She said she would give her the message that I had called when she woke up.  I wondered if Tylar had given Jean instructions to say that if and when I phoned.  Now who was being overly sensitive?
                  I busied myself around the apartment getting things ready to start dinner.  I was making another one