Page 30 of Flirting with the Stranger

“You hugged that toilet as if it were your best friend.”

“You’re so mean.” I playfully shove at his hard chest, but he doesn’t budge an inch. Instead, he grabs my wrist and tugs me to him. The blanket folds over, creating a barrier between us as he pulls me on top of him. I’m unable to control my giggling.

“You know you like me.”

“Maybe. Sometimes. You’re kind of growing on me.” I shrug one shoulder.

His eyes widen in disbelief. Then his fingers tickle my sides. I squeal out an uncontrollable giggle as I squirm on top of him.

“You’re not playing fair!” I screech in between breaths.

Van gives in and stops. I place my cheek on his chest while I collect my breath. Once my heart rate evens out, I prop my chin on his chest.

“What’s on the agenda today?”

“Oh! I have to show you my penis. At the bakery.”

I blink once. Twice. Wait, what? “You have to show me your penis at the bakery? This isn’t something we could do here?”

“No. That came out wrong. I can explain.”

My eyebrows raise. “Please do.”

“Yesterday, before I came over, I was attempting to do some baking on my own. Which went terribly wrong, except for the penis cupcake.”

I motion my hand for him to continue because that can’t be the entire story.

“Apparently, if you over fill a cupcake tin, the batter spreads into all the holes when it bakes and makes a penis. I made you a penis.”

I giggle. “Aww. I don’t know if I should be more flattered that you attempted to bake, or that you made me a phallus shaped cake.”

He runs his hands up and down my back. “I’m a man of many talents. I’m thinking I should make an entire line of penis cupcakes. Big ones. Little ones. Maybe not little ones. No one wants those. Maybe I can use some sprinkles to simulate—”

I slap my hand over his mouth and all I hear is a few muffled words. “Please don’t finish that sentence. But I am impressed that you tried to bake without me.” I remove my hand. “What do you say we go see what you’ve been working on? Meet up at the bakery in an hour?”

“Okay. I can’t wait to show you my penis.” He tosses me a wink and I roll off him.

“Go home and take a shower, Casanova. I’ll see you soon.”

Van hops off the bed, flashes me a boyish grin before he’s out my bedroom door and running down the stairs. A few moments later, I hear the door open and close with a soft click. I twirl around and flop down, my back flat on the mattress like a schoolgirl with a crush. What am I doing? I don’t remember the last time I felt like this. Is this what fun feels like? Whatever it is, I can’t keep the smile from forming on my lips.

* * *

Sure enough, he baked me a cock and balls. I’m actually impressed. It’s perfectly formed and proportionate. I glance up to Van. A proud, beaming smile covers his face.

“How about we make some more cupcake batter and then we can move on to the frosting?”

“You’re the boss.”

I pull up the recipe for a basic cupcake batter and direct Van to take the reins, and I’ll be his assistant. He reads through the recipe and then pulls out all his ingredients while telling me what bowls and which measuring utensils he’ll need. I happily collect everything he needs and place them on the worktable. With his lips pursed together in concentration, he mixes all the dry ingredients together, then moves on to the wet. He pours the dry into the wet and mixes them together. In the meantime, I prep the cupcake tins for the finished batter. I show him how much to fill each cup to avoid any more penis cupcakes. After we fill all the cups, he grabs the tin and places it inside the pre-heated oven.

Van closes the door and turns toward me, his chest puffed out and a knowing grin on his face. “This batch is money.”

“The batter looked perfect.”

Van’s shoulder bumps with mine and he peers down at me, his eyes bright and glossy. “I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

My belly does cartwheels from his words along with the way he stares at me. Heat creeps up my neck. Needing to steer this conversation elsewhere before I mount him like a bull at the rodeo, I add, “You did all the work. I was only here for moral support. What do you say we attempt frosting?”

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