Falling Roses

He smiled at her. “You’re drunk right now, aren’t you? I should be shot for letting you drive home.”

“I’m not drunk.” Giggling, she squeezed the oil onto the top of her hand, and then placed her fist in front of his mouth.

He licked her hand. “I assume Lily gave you the suckers.” He tugged the top of the strip with two fingers. Each sucker encased in plastic, between perforations, slid up and out from her ankle, panties, and then from her cami. He handed the strip to her. “Who gave you the bottle of hot oil?”

“Lily did,” Gabrielle said. Still giggling, she fell to the floor.

“You’re nuts,” he said, laughing with her. John turned to the counter.

Gabrielle sat on the floor near his feet, and then kneeled. “Can I show you a new trick I learned? Something funny.”

He turned around, holding a piece of bread in his left hand and a knife in his right. Gabrielle smiled, looking up at him, as he looked down grinning. “What’s funnier than you drunk in your underwear, sitting on the kitchen floor, with a bottle of flavored hot oil lickin’ yourself?”

He turned to place a homemade, mayonnaise spread onto the bread, as she placed oil in the palm of her hand. Wrapping her arms around his pelvis, she then lowered his boxers a tad. “Thanks,” he murmured, as she rubbed the lotion on him. He turned around and looked down upon her. His voice serious, he asked, “Who told you to do this to me young lady?”