Page 69 of Pelvic Flaws

His eyes were bright and full of mirth and I loved how much fun we had together. Carl would have stormed off by now, telling me I was wasting his time by pissing about. Feeling thankful once again for the dodgy handle on my bag, I gave a little grunt and shifted my legs either side of the pads. Once I was comfy, Dex moved the lever again.

“Oh shit,” I squawked, as my legs were suddenly split apart.

“A bit of a shock?” Dex asked with a chuckle.

“Hmm, slightly.”

I actually felt a little exposed and was glad I was wearing my long ‘Frankie’ t-shirt and not a crop top – not that I ever would, not with my saggy, stretch-marked stomach. I tugged at my t-shirt, pulling it further down and adjusted my bum.

“Right, I’m ready.”

Dex explained the best technique and suggested that I did two reps of twenty, seeing as my legs hadn’t been that wide for a while. He then ducked out of the way as I tried to slap him.

“Okay, darlin’, off you go.”

I started off well, with Dex giving me encouragement and then at number fifteen of the second rep, the most embarrassing thing in the world happened.

“Thirteen,” Dex counted. “Fourteen, fif-.”

The loudest fart ever erupted from my backside and because I was sitting down, I felt all the wind push its way to freedom, through my fanny. It sounded like a drum solo followed by a trumpeting finale.

As soon as it sounded out, I slapped a hand over my mouth and looked up at Dex, my eyes wide with horror.

Any distant hope I had that he hadn’t heard was dashed when I saw his face. His mouth was open and his eyes were even wider than my own.

“You didn’t?” he gasped.

With my hand still over my mouth, I nodded silently.

“Why’ve you got your hand over your mouth?” he asked, laughing. “That rumble came from your ass, not your voice box.”

“I’m so sorry,” I cried, feeling the heat spring to my cheeks. “I’ve never…I don’t…”

“You don’t what, normally fart?” Dex asked. “Darlin’ how the hell do you not have a damn belly ache all the time?”

“No I do, but not…Oh my God, I’m mortified.”

I dropped my head and closed my eyes, feeling sure Dex would disappear, never to return while I wasn’t looking. However, after a few seconds I was dragged into his arms and pulled against his shaking chest. The bastard was laughing his head off.

“Oh shit, darlin’,” he breathed in between peals of laughter. “You make my life so much more fun, every fucking day. I have no idea what I’d do without you.

And suddenly one trumpeting vart didn’t seem so bad.

Dex

I woke with a start, my heart beating irrationally fast, feeling fearful and anxious. I’d had another dream about Cherry and I had no damn clue why.

Each dream had been different, all involving her. She was either dying in some way or I was searching for her, without success. Tonight, she’d been killed by falling off a tilting building and as she’d fallen, I’d startled awake.

I didn’t know the reason behind the dreams – she’d been dead for almost three years, and it wasn’t as though we’d been together when it happened. Yeah, I’d been full of grief for her passing, but I’d felt a little distant from it all. That was another reason why I hadn’t gone to the funeral; I didn’t really feel as though I knew her any longer. Well, that was what I’d told myself initially, but with time I’d realized it was the guilt I felt about our last conversation, it hadn’t been my finest hour and I had probably been a little hard on her.

We’d had a few drinks and kicked back, but when she started talking about us getting back together I made it pretty clear it wasn’t happening.

“But why, Dex? We were so good together.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry Cherry, but it ain’t happenin’ and truth be told we weren’t that great.”

“We were. We had something real special,” she pleaded, grabbing hold of my forearm that was resting on the scratched high table in the bar. “If you just come back with me for a little while, you’ll see.”

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