The choice is easy. I step up to him and place a firm and lingering kiss on his lips, allowing my hands to trail over his muscles. His skin prickles from my touch and the inner goddess in me is doing a freaking cheer because of this reaction. He responds by gripping my hips, keeping me in place.
“Let’s go win us the master,” I murmur against his lips. He smiles and slides his right hand into mine. I leave my clothes on the bathroom floor, knowing it’s tacky, but in my mind I’m getting some time with Josh that I really need right now.
We step out into the game ready backyard and I groan. Before us looms a monstrosity of hell. I survey the course and am thankful I chose not to shower yet. We have to slide down what looks like oil, fall into a pit of flour, and army crawl through honey. Oh this ought to be so much fun. Millie is going to kick all of our butts. Her police training has prepared her for this course. As I look at Josh to convey my worry, his response is to flex and kiss each bicep.
Freaking men!
Amanda and Millie step out, followed by Gary and Cole. The guys instantly start talking about oil and honey. The three of us roll our eyes and I pray this won’t be what I think it is or what the guys want it to be. They seem to be forgetting that there is flour involved and it’ll be in places they don’t want to think about.
“You men are so transparent,” Amanda says, with her arms crossed. For the first time in the show, I agree with her.
“Newlyweds, today you’ll be vying not only for master suite, but also for a new hot tub!” Patrick Jonas is too excited for this competition. I know it’s his job, but even he should feel a little remorse for us.
Everyone claps, but me. I don’t need or want a hot tub. Where would I put it? In that imaginary house that Joshua and I are going to share in Barbieland?
“This is how the game works. You’ll each climb to the top of the slide, with one spouse going first. You’ll slide down and enter the pit, each of you looking for a letter. Once you have a letter, you’ll crawl through the honey and take your letter to your board. Once the letter is placed on your board, your spouse may start their turn. The object of the game is to spell the longest word possible.”
“Do you want to go first?” I ask as we make our way to the top of the slide.
“Yeah, sure,” he replies. “Do you know what word we want to spell?”
I shake my head, not having the foggiest idea. “Let’s just gather a few and see what we can come up with. We’ll have to be smart about letter picking after that.”
“I agree.”
The countdown begins and Josh, Gary, and Millie are lined up on the line to start. All I can think as Joshua slides down is, Wow, my man in oil, who knew?
Who is the sick bastard behind this competition? Give me oil and a hot babe, preferably the one I’m married to, any day. But when you throw in flour and honey, it’s just a flat out mess. Don’t get me wrong, watching Joey roll around in anything is a sight to see, but the fact that she looks like a stay puft marshmallow is a slight turn off. I know that’s not saying much considering I look the same, but all men fantasize about watching their girl get all oiled up. It’s just a total buzzkill when she face-plants in a pool of flour.
Joey and I are working well as a team. After three letters we agreed to go all out and spell ‘happiness’. It was her idea, and I quickly agreed. She’s clearly the brains of our operation since she was able to come up with our word with the letters a-p-n.
We look like crap. Our hair is matted and our bodies have this caked on composite that is meant to slow us down. My shoes are ruined, as I wasn’t smart enough to take mine off like she was. This has been the worst competition to date by far. I trudge out of the vat of honey and slowly make my way to the board. Joey is already in the flour looking for our next letter. The longer it takes, the harder it is to move. The shower beckons me and I don’t care if I drag this crap through the house, I’m not waiting for the outside one to become free. I feel gross and things are sticking to places they shouldn’t be.
I make my way toward the stairs; each step seems to be slower than the last. As soon as Joey is at the board I look quickly to see what letters we need before climbing up the steps. We only need two more.
“This sucks,” Cole mumbles as he tries to knock the goop off his hand.
“I know.”
“Can’t we just forfeit?”
I shake my head. “It’s for the master suite. Someone has to win the room.”
“I don’t even care. We can just screw in the shower,” he mutters as he leans against the makeshift wall. I don’t want to think about him and Millie in the shower because one, it makes me jealous that I’m not doing that with Joey and two, I’m absolutely desperate for a shower.
“Here goes nothing.” Sitting down on the slide I push off. Flour flies up into my mouth, making me gag. You’d think by now we’d have all the flour on our bodies, but it’s procreating like magic. It seems like each time I get down here there’s more and more white crap to make my life miserable.
The first letter I find is one we don’t need, but it sticks to my hand. I shake it loose, only to have it fly and hit Cole in the back of his head.
“Sorry, man,” I say as I move the flour around more, getting on my knees to search the bottom. I find another letter, an “F”, and quickly look at the board. I’ve forgotten what I need. Joey is standing off to the side watching and if I could see clearly, I’d probably be able to see if she’s angry and telling me to hurry up. I can’t even hear well right now; my ears are clogged up full of crap. I reach down again and find another letter quickly. I pray that this is something I need because I have to get out of here.
My arm moves slowly, the flour fighting with the oil and many layers of honey. When it breaks free, an “S” stares back at me. The little boy inside of me rejoices and quickly cries when I get to the honey. I drop to my knees and then my elbows and army crawl my way through the thick amber goop. I used to like the smell of honey, but not anymore.
All bees must die after this.
As soon as I slap the “S” on the board Joey is already down the slide. She’s moving so much faster than I am. I’m in shape, but this comp is kicking my ass. I walk to the edge and cheer on Joey while she searches for the last letter needed.
“Come on, Joey,” I yell, hoping to encourage her. I let out a yelp when she jumps up and makes her way to the honey. I’d love to go in and just pull her through, but something tells me that I’d get in trouble and we’d be disqualified and there ain’t no way I’m losing now.