I’d just opened my mouth to say something when the Minecraft creeper sleeping bag finally lost the battle with gravity and dropped to the floor, leaving her standing in her tank top and underwear. I want to say I was a gentleman, I also want to be able to blame it on anything other than the fact it was her panties, but I looked down and lost the war.
Any laugh that had ever come out of me out of me before had nothing on what came out of me then when I saw Mario from Mario Bros winking at me on her crotch with his thumb in the air.
And then it got better when she turned around to hide it, and on the back it said Talk Gamer To Me…
Falling to my side, I tried to get air into my lungs while Duke took the opportunity to try and lick every inch of my face and neck, and when he couldn’t do it, he started jumping either side of me like it was a game.
“Oh my god,” Katy squealed, finally able to say something. “Wait, which panties… Oh my god…” she shrieked and hurdled over me to where a pair of sweats were lying neatly folded on a chair. I’d only just started getting proper lungful’s of oxygen when she spun around and pointed a finger at me. “You didn’t see those. You walked in and they were pretty girly ones… with lace!” she added as an afterthought.
Rolling onto my knees and using my hands to push up as I gulped in air, I shook my head. “You’re not taking that away from me,” I wheezed. “Those were awesome.”
“Shut up,” she squealed again, covering her face with her hands.
“Are they all like that?” I asked as I got to my feet. “Wait, do you wear those to work, too?”
The thought of her wearing gaming nerd panties in her office was kind of a turn on if I was honest. It hadn’t occurred to me before now that something like that would be, but then, it was Katy. She made things like that hot.
Before she could answer – or her head could explode judging by the redness in her face – there was a knock on the front door. Sending me a glare, she pivoted and walked out of the room, only just remembering that her ankle was still giving her grief.
Still chuckling, I followed behind her with Duke pushing past me to get to where his mama was.
“Don’t be mad, baby,” I called. “I’ll show you mine if it makes you feel better!”
Seeing that I was now in the living room, she made a farting noise at me, and then swung the door open to show Maude standing on the other side with her hand up ready to knock again. Slowly, her eyes moved from her granddaughter to where I was standing, and I belatedly remembered that I didn’t have a t-shirt on.
Swinging back to look at Katy, a huge grin took over her face, and she pushed past her and walked toward me with her arms wide open. When she got to me, she gave me what amounted to as much of a bear hug as she could give, and put her cheek flat against my chest.
“This is the best moment of my life,” she sighed, not letting go.
Shooting Katy a look that begged for her to help me, I gave her a quick hug back and then patted her shoulder gently. When she just held on and stayed holding on, I mouthed, “Help!” at Katy, but she just stood there and shook her head.
“Uh, Maude…”
“You get extra points if you sing to me at the same time,” Maude sighed – again. “Double extra points if you sing Tears In Heaven.”
“Maude loves Clapton,” Katy informed me, and then mouthed, “Karma.”
“Katy loves Clapton, too,” Maude added. “But her favorite is My Father’s Eyes. Used to listen to it and play air guitar in the car with her dad all the time. Well, that was until he did it on a corner and took out a mailbox.”
“No, he still does it,” Katy sighed, making me wonder how into air guitaring someone could get to hit a mailbox.
“I see,” I mumbled, looking down at the top of Maude’s hair that was so voluminous this morning that it almost hit my chin.
Still holding on tight, Maude declared, “It’s taken a couple of decades, but I’ve finally found my happy place.”
Seeing how uncomfortable I was getting – I mean, a hug was a hug, but a five-minute hug? – Katy suggested, “Why don’t we have a coffee, Maude?”
“I’m good.”
“No, really. Why don’t we have a coffee,” she ground out this time. “In the kitchen.”
“He has bumps on his tummy and I’m an old woman. I’m using them like one of those massage mats. It’s therapy.”