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Damn. Why do I always feel surprised by his looks?
Breathlessly, I take in his shaggy black locks—including the unruly one that makes my fingers itch to touch it—and the beautifully shaped lines of his lips. His eyes are the deepest shade of blue behind his horn-rimmed glasses, and he’s wearing his Matrix-inspired getup. In one hand, he’s holding Oracle in a carrier, and in the other, a brown bag.
I swallow my drool. “Please come in.” I gesture toward my living room.
He takes his shoes off again, hangs up the trench coat by the door, and brings the carrier over to Monkey’s house.
“Here.” He hands me a muffin. “Mind if I put them into the play area?”
“Please.” I attack the muffin with fervor.
Yum. He either stopped by the best bakery in NYC, or I’m very hungry.
As I eat, I watch Oracle and Monkey rub noses together.
“I brought them snacks too.” Vlad takes out a green vegetable I’ve never seen before. “You mind?”
“Not at all. What is that?”
“Hop shoots.” He bites a piece of his. “They’re washed. You want to try?”
With a shrug, I taste the veg. It reminds me of kale, with a faintly nutty aftertaste. “This is good. Why have I never seen these in the supermarket? Or restaurants? Is it a special guinea pig crop?”
And if so, why did we just eat it?
He places a long shoot into the aquarium. “The process to harvest this stuff is elaborate, so they’re a little pricey for most people.”
Seeing the shoot, Oracle grabs it and starts nibbling.
Monkey tastes it from the other side, and must love it because she begins pulling on the green stem pretty vigorously.
Almost violently.
In return, Oracle pulls on her end.
Monkey keeps pulling on hers.
It becomes a hilarious tug of war—at least hilarious for me.
Vlad actually frowns. “I forgot how much Oracle likes those things. I might’ve inadvertently created friction.”
He’s right.
After they rip the plant in half and finish eating it, Oracle begins to chase Monkey around—with squealing throughout.
When she finally corners Monkey, she mounts her and begins to hump.
Huh, okay. When Vlad mentioned friction a second ago, I didn’t think it would be of the sexual kind. But why humping? They’re both female, so wouldn’t it make more sense if one went down on the other, or—and I’m not sure if their bodies are built for it—they could try something like scissoring.
“You said Oracle was a she,” I say, suppressing a laugh as the humping intensifies. “Doesn’t this require boy parts?”
“It’s about dominance.” He tosses two pieces of the veg in two different corners of the aquarium.
As if to confirm his words, Monkey sprints out from under Oracle, makes a loop, and begins trying to make her friend her bitch.
“Guinea pigs must be sexist,” I say, grinning. “Why is the one who gets humped the less dominant one? And shouldn’t that only apply in the bedroom anyway, not to who gets more snacks?”
He returns my grin. “And yet, how funny would it be if people tried this in boardrooms?”
