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When Nic comes home, I’m boneless as a jellyfish, my feet up over the back of the couch, my head hanging over the edge, watching a couple have sex in the kitchen. Upside down.
I’m upside down. Not the couple. That would be impressive, though.
Nic edges into my line of sight. “Um…Mina?”
I lift my head to look at him, and it’s more than a jellyfish can do. My head drops again. “Hey, Nic.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m a jellyfish. Yes. Did you know this house is a porno house?”
“Yeah…where’s Timothy?” Nic takes a step not closer but into my field of vision, his fingers flying across his phone screen.
“Not in this porno,” I answer. “Did you know jellyfish don’t have bones? I wouldn’t want to touch one. Timothy made me touch a stingray. It was hot. Not the stingray, that was cold.”
“O-kay,” Nic says like he’s afraid I’ll sting him with my jellyfish tentacles. He doesn’t know I can’t move them. I am washed up on this beach and I have to watch all these pornos before the tide brings me back out to sea.
Nic’s phone chimes. “Timothy will be here in five minutes.”
“Do you think it’s a bad idea for me and Timothy to date?”
There’s a brief pause and the silence between us is filled with a loud “fuck yeah, baby” from the porno.
“If you love him, you’re serious about him, and you’re willing to support him as he deals with his retirement, then no, it’s not a bad idea. But I don’t want to see my friend hurt, so if you’re not certain, please don’t.”
“Okay.” I wave my tentacle at him. It’s my foot tentacle, and it takes a lot of effort to unstick it from the sandy shore.
“I think you might have been right last week,” Nic says after a moment. “About Timothy hiding.”
“He’s out with Jax,” I say slowly. Everything is slowing way down. My tongue too.
“He’s not returning Danny’s messages. Or Curtis. Or any of the other people he worked with.”
I try to nod, but I’m a jellyfish. I don’t have a neck. Do I? I touch my neck, poking and prodding.
Nic frowns at me, then shakes his head. Because he has a neck. “I’ve invited them over for a poker game tomorrow night.”
I give up on my neck and rest my hands on my stomach. “Do they know this house is a porno house?”
Nic sighs, asks if I’m good alone, then disappears down the stairs.
I watch my porn, stuck to the couch.
It feels like I’ve been watching this for hours. I flick back to my favorite one, where a man who looks a tiny bit like Timothy is getting sucked off by a woman who has dark hair like me. Her boobs are bigger than mine and that’s not fair…I cup mine and bounce them. Nah, I love not needing to wear a bra. My tits are the tits.
On TV, the Timothy character is fingering the Me character like a champ while her head bobs on his lap. In a few minutes, he’ll be stretched out on the white leather couch I’m sitting on, licking her pussy with a competent enthusiasm that I hope earned him employee of the month.
I know Timothy will be just as good. Maybe better. He’s so attentive and intuitive. He always wants the best for the people he loves. For everyone.
Horny feelings have come back, now that I’m thinking about Timothy. I want him to do all these things to me on this couch. And I want to do things to him.
I want him to come home. I must wish for it hard enough, because he bursts through the door on a taco-scented breeze, takes one look at me, one look at the cunnilingus on TV, and cracks up laughing.
“Nic told me to get my ass home,” he says, dropping on the sofa next to me and reaching for the remote. “He sounded pretty freaked out.”
“He’s afraid of me. Don’t turn it off,” I roll toward Timothy and somehow end up sprawled across his lap.
“Like this one, do you?” He laughs, scooping me off him and depositing me next to him, his eyes twinkling. “Love you in my shirt, by the way.” He leans forward to unpack our dinner.
