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“You’re getting too old for that.”
“Please?”
“Okay, but just for tonight.”
While she deposits him in her bed, I stand like my ass is on fire. She returns a minute later, catching me as I began to rip at my suit. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Clarissa asks, padding back into the living room.
“I don’t know…s-something’s wrong.” It feels like my skin has caught fire. I begin to rip at the latex and struggle with the zipper as she giggles while watching me.
“Shit, don’t just stand there laughing, Clarissa, help me!”
“Calm down,” she says, circling me to grip the zipper, “let me at it,” she instructs through residual laughter. “Stop struggling.”
“It burns!” I whisper-yell. “Hurry.”
“Oh no, are you allergic to latex?”
“I don’t think so, I don’t know. Please,” I plead. “Stop laughing. It’s not funny, it feels like my nuts are cooking.”
She’s full-on laughing while I rip at the collar, not giving a shit about the integrity of the suit. “I’m serious. Please, please,” I beg as she finally gets my cape off and fumbles with the zipper. Once it’s down, I rip at the costume until it’s at my feet.
Clarissa steps back. “Oh, my God.” The look on her face paralyzes me with fear.
“Is it bad?”
“Go, g-get in a cold shower right now. You’re having an allergic reaction of some sort.
“I wore this the other night for a few hours,” I shriek as I haul ass down the hall. She’s hot on my heels. “It’s probably the heat.” I shut the bathroom door behind me for a quick nut check and am relieved when I see they’re angry red but still intact along with the grand commander. Upon further inspection, I notice I’m covered in tiny bumps, the boiling rash going from my neck to my groin and starting to erupt on my thighs. The upside is, I may never have to shave my balls again. “What in the hell!?”
A sharp knock on the door has me cracking it open.
“Here, in case it’s not a heat rash,” she thrusts a tiny cup at me. “Children’s Benadryl, it may help some.”
“It burns,” I whimper, taking the cup and tossing the contents back like a shot.
She b
ites back a smile, retrieving the cup as she barks orders. “Get in a cold shower, use the kid soap because it’s got no perfumes or dyes. Gently rub, don’t scrape. I’ll run next door and get you some clothes, don’t put your underwear back on.”
I lift a brow. “Because?”
“Because if—” She rolls her eyes. “Yep, my boy definitely has too much of your DNA. Just do what I say.”
I grunt, the urge to rake my sack unbearable. “Fine.”
“P-poor Batman’s got a rash,” she snorts before belly laughter erupts from her. Narrowing my eyes, I shut the door on her as her amusement echoes down the hall. “Guess, G-g-Gotham isn’t safe tonight.”
Jenny’s Cream Cheese and Picante Dip
Intoxicologist/Bartender, Dallas
Makes 2 Cups
5 minutes
2 8 Oz. Packages Cream Cheese – softened
