Free Putting the Madge in Danna by Mia Natasha

said when he saw me. He
was standing by the door holding a gold key dangling from a red
lanyard, which I assumed meant he had been waiting for me, given
up, and was about to lock the door. There was no one else
there.
    I stared at him for a second, took in his
sad smile, his leathery skin and his super lean muscley arms
hanging from a ripped sleeveless black and white striped shirt that
reminded me of a jailbird or the Wicked Witch of the East’s
stockings (both really, more so the witch due to the gym’s
Munchkinland vibe - would he munch on my pussy-kin?) I suppressed
my robotic dance and the laugh that came with it. I really needed
to get serious.
    I said, “Why would I do
that? I’m grateful that you’re taking time out of your busy
schedule to spend time with me. To get me in shape for my wedding.
To shape me up, in general.” He seemed to look even more forlorn
when I said that, so I added, “And to pump me with your sufficient
and all-powerful Indian lore. I want to catch your dreams.”
    “ Yeah?” he
asked.
    “ Mmm-hmm,” I uttered as I
nodded yes. I stood closer and let him sniff my perfume.
    Zeke hesitated at first
then he placed his hands on my triceps. “Nice,” he said feeling how
firm they had gotten in just a week. “Are you going to use your
dreamcatcher to catch my dreams, bride-girl?”
    “ I guess,” I said. I
didn’t want to act too forward, since it seemed sluttish. I waited
for his instructions.
    “ You guess?” He looked
into my eyes and I nodded yes again.
    I said, “Maybe we are having the same
dream. One that involves a colorful journey of the orifice
kind.”
    “ I was thinking,” he said,
“that I want you to use your mouth as the vessel.”
    Then Zeke began to kiss me. It was kind of
exciting to feel the way I did. But weird. I had real emotions of
getting what I wanted but at the same time, that actress vibe hit
me hard. Real, but not real, you know? It was as though I only
wanted to please Madonna, my director, and I wanted that very much
– that imagined praise.
    How do actors kiss other partners on
screen if they are married or seeing someone? It seems like a weird
thing to do and get paid for it. Like whores. Was I being a whore?
While my mouth locked onto Zeke’s, I wondered how I would feel if
Zeus kissed someone else. Are there still geishas in Japan, I
thought, or did they die out with the H-bomb?
    I tried to put that out of my mind. Zeus
wouldn’t need to find other lovers, because men only do that when
their women don’t put out in a satisfactory manner. This was
completely different. The next time my man and I do the nasty, I
thought, I would be primed for a life of hard pounding, but only if
I complete my mission. I tried to enjoy the present for that
reason.
    This kiss though - Zeke seemed to be sucking
the life’s blood out of me. I find it so fascinating how something
as simple as a kiss can be so extremely...well different. I don’t
know how else to say it. When Zeus kisses me, I smell spearmint
mostly, because he always chews gum. But sometimes his breath
smells like roasted red peppers or baklava, you know, yummy things.
Zeke’s breath smelled like a hot cinnamon and tobacco combo. I
didn’t realize he smoked, unless the smell was from chewing
tobacco, which seems a little bit more gross as it pertains to the
possibility of unhealthy gums lurking about those white teeth of
his. Luckily, I didn’t have to delve inside to find out. His kisses
were dry but powerful, kind of like a soap opera kiss where the
actors don’t venture into French territory. It was a bit PG, which
reminded me of my cougar status. Here I was trying to be more
worldly with a guy who, I suspected, had less experience than me.
Strange.
    He led me over to the leg press in a kind of
waltz. I could hear the jangle of the jingle bells he always wore
around his ankle attached to a brown leather strap. I slipped down
into the reclined seat of the machine. I started thinking he