The Unlikely Heroine

Mmm, baby. I love it when you mix Old Spice with Brut, you know that? There’s just something about that exact combination of fragrances that gets my blood a-pumpin’. It also excites me to no end when you wear those briefs with the leopard print, ‘cause that’s just manly. Swollen from five straight days of binge drinking, your belly kind of hangs over the band, there, but it’s okay, sugar. I like my men soft. In fact, seeing your perspiration glisten in the flickering glow of the cherry-scented candles as it runs down your paunch and pools in your navel, well… let’s just say it’s time to break out the Usher CDs.

You like that, baby? I knew you would. What’s that? You want to see what’s under my thick terrycloth robe? Oh, you’re a naughty one, aren’t you? Patience, baby… patience. Before we commence to lovemaking, there are a few things we need nearby… things that are not only conducive to sweet, sweet lovin’, but are downright vital. In fact, even if Tom Cruise himself showed up at my door… even if he was armed with a chilled bottle of Boone’s Farm Fuzzy Navel and a book of poetry by Bell, Biv, or DeVoe… if he didn’t have the necessary accoutrements, he could hang it up. You see, what I’m talking about are two items that will cause even the most frigid female to cry out in orgasmic bliss the moment you present them to her. Diamonds and pearls? Chocolates and champagne? Lingerie and a vial of Spanish Fly? No, baby… this:

I know what you’re thinking. The way to any reasonable woman’s heart is through her stomach, but that’s not exactly what I had in mind. Word on the street has it that, when coated in the right amount of hot sauce, souse is a powerful arousal tool. That is why I stand before you in my seersucker housedress begging you to cut off a slice of it to place directly on my lady bits. It’s time to take it to the next level, baby. Will you do this for me, to prove how much you love me? Oh, you’re the best. Yes… just like that. Mmmm, yeah.

Hmmm. That’s interesting. I wasn’t told it would burn like this. Let’s just work past it, baby. Mmmm, you know I like it when you… hey, wait! What the…?! Ow! No, don’t take it off… maybe you’re supposed to work it in. In fact, put a bit more hot sauce on it. That’s better. Actually, it’s kind of numb now. Did you get it in me? I don’t think that’s supposed to happen, actually. Yeah, just see if you can fish it out. What? My labia are swollen shut? Well, this is a fine how-do-you-do! I guess we should go straight the ER and let the doctor find out where we went wrong, because I can’t for the life of me figure it out. In fact, call 9-1-1. I don’t want to take any chances, here. Thanks, baby. Maybe when I get back, we can pick up where we left off. Feel free to make yourself a sandwich with the leftover souse. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste, now would we?

:fin:

(The best part of this entire visit was the discharge note sent home with the patient. At the bottom, in all caps, it said, “DO NOT PLACE ANYTHING IN OR ON VAGINA UNLESS INDICATED ON PACKAGING.”)