25Thanks to Heather (txbabefan) who posted the prompt on the JE Fan Fiction FB group page and to Rebecca (robotzombiepineapples) for encouraging me to write the story. Both books mentioned in this story are currently available on Amazon. This story has not been beta'd and I apologize in advance for any errors.
OMG
My plan was foolproof.
I would never admit this out loud, but the Great Santos, aka Lester the Latin Love Machine, was experiencing a bit of a dry spell. It seems that my almost nightly forays into the Trenton club scene, more commonly known as Hook-Up World, had caused me to not only sleep through all the available, attractive, and willing women frequenting the aforementioned clubs, but also to develop a bit of a reputation as Lester the Latin Lothario. It wasn't that my nightly companions were dissatisfied with my performance, but more so with my somewhat hasty exit after.
So now, I have determined I need a new pond in which to fish; a new buffet at which to dine; a new orchard from which to pluck some juicy fruit. No wait, that is too close to home. No juicy Plum picking for me. My cousin would ship me off to a 'Stan with only a toothpick if he knew I was having thoughts about picking Plums.
Anyway, about my plan. It started at the Rangeman Christmas party. Steph insisted we do a secret Santa gift exchange this year. There were the usual bottles of Scotch, engraved handcuffs, and gift cards to favorite restaurants (lame!), but when I ripped the red and green holiday paper off, it was obvious my secret Santa knew me well. It was a book titled "How to Live with a Huge Penis: Advice, Meditations, and Wisdom for Men Who Have Too Much."
Everyone knows men check each other out in the locker room, but most of us try to be subtle about it. Nothing worse than getting caught comparing your junk to the guy next to you. Not to brag, but I've looked and I put most guys to shame. So it doesn't surprise me that someone else noticed my impressive love muscle. The book really was a thoughtful gift.
The cover said it was a self-help book for men with Oversized Male Genitalia, or OMG, and included prayers, poems, and a daily affirmations journal. I'm not sure what sort of prayers you say for your dick, maybe "Please God, tell me that cold sore was not on her lip last night." It's not like I'd be praying for an even bigger joystick, not when I've already been blessed with a super schlong.
Poems I can understand. Women go for that brainy shit. In fact, I've been known to wax poetic on occasion.
There once was a man named Les
Whose dick was known as the best.
Women worldwide
Remain satisfied
But he ruined them for all of the rest.
Eat your heart out Carl Sandburg.
The daily affirmations journal seemed like a bit of a joke. Things like "I am good enough. I am more than just a penis." and "I am worthy of love. I can be more than just a porn star." I mean, if you're Harry Horsecock, why would you want to be anything else? Besides, how a man with a monster one-eyed trouser snake could lack self-confidence is beyond me.
But I digress….about The Plan. I've decided to take a more subtle approach to picking up women. I'll sit in public places reading the book and wait for the women to come to me. This also guarantees I probably haven't already slept with the woman if she's still willing to speak to me.
The first place I decided to try was the park. Lots of single ladies like to jog around the park or walk their dogs. Not to mention all the single moms bringing their kids to the playground so they can relax. Never underestimate a horny MILF looking for a little excitement on the ex's weekend.
I settled myself on a sunny bench near the swings. Even though spring was still a few weeks away, the late winter sun made it tolerable. Kids being kids, they didn't pay much attention to the weather as they chased each other around the slides and the jungle gym, yelling and screaming their little heads off. The noise made it hard to stay focused, but I figured I might as well get as much out of the book as I could.
It is apparent a lot of medical research went into writing this book. The book talks about something called "shaft rolling." The idea starts with the premise that someone with a huge penis would need to have more blood diverted to their johnson to produce and maintain an erection. The book recommends placing your member on a flat surface and using a marble rolling pin to roll over it ten times to break up any blood clots that might be forming. I never realized having a King Kong kielbasa could be hazardous to my health. Guess I've been lucky so far.
As I read, I opened the bag of snacks I brought with me. I have a bag of fun size chocolate bars and a bag of Tootsie Pops. Wouldn't you know it, the bag of fun sized candy bars split wide open, spilling candy all around me. I scooped it up and laid it on the bench beside me. The kids were eyeing my snacks, but I'm not about to offer to share. Instead, I unwrap a Tootsie Pop and smile, remembering the old commercial "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?" I slowly lick the hard candy shell, hearing Mr. Owl counting in my head. "A-one, a-two, a-three, crunch!" I chuckled as I made it past three and continued counting each lick.
I was almost to the chocolatey Tootsie center when I saw Steph's cop friend Eddie Gazarra leave the group of hot moms on the other side of the playground and make his way toward my bench.
"Santos," he said as he approached.
"Officer Gazarra," I replied before forgetting myself and biting through the candy coating. Dammit, now I'll have to start over.
"Whatcha doing, Les?" he asked, nodding to the candy haphazardly strewn on the bench beside me.
"Relaxing. Reading. Soaking up some vitamin D." And waiting to see which lucky lady was going to get a dose of vitamin me, but Gazarra didn't need to know that.
"Dispatch got a call about a pervert sitting by the playground reading porn and acting creepy. Said the guy had a bunch of candy and might be trying to tempt the kids to come closer. You know anything about this?" Eddie asked.
"I haven't seen any other guys in the area, but I'll keep an eye out," I told him, always happy to help. I unwrapped a new Tootsie pop and offered Eddie some candy. He helped himself to a couple chocolate bars and we chatted a few minutes longer. As we were talking, I noticed the moms gathering up the kids and leaving the area.
The sun slid behind some clouds and the wind came up, reminding us both it was still March. I decided it was time to call it a day. The park hadn't worked out as well as I had hoped, but I already had another spot in mind.
It was a couple of weeks before I had a chance to try The Plan again, but this time I was confident it would work. I chose my neighborhood Starbucks as my next target of opportunity. I've also added a pair of fake reading glasses to add an air of academia to my look. I peruse my book while sipping my venti matcha green tea Frappuccino made with soy milk, chips and peppermint. I could tell by the narrowing of the barista's eyes as I placed my order that she was intrigued. Probably wondering how such a good-looking and well-built guy could also be so amazingly complicated. No simple black coffee order for this dude.
I took a seat that was close to the pick-up area to maximize the amount of time women would have to check me out and catch a glimpse of the title of the book I was so studiously reading. Of course, my lack of interest in trying to attract their attention would only enhance my appeal. I'm the mysterious and aloof stranger. Not only handsome and intelligent, but a man with a jumbo John Thomas according to the book he was so engaged with reading. Poor ladies. Really, they wouldn't stand a chance against such a masterful trap.
It's not all about picking up women though. As the caffeine craving work world moves around me, I'm working on my daily affirmation. At first I thought this part was a joke, but I've learned to use this exercise to be at peace with my piece.
I chewed on my pen as I mulled over what I was going to add today. Finally, inspiration hit and I wrote, "I am special. In an ocean full of minnows, I am a Moby dick."
Satisfied, I glanced up and locked eyes with a familiar pair of blue orbs. Since Steph and Ranger finally got their heads out of their asses and became a couple, we have all spent more time with her Grandma Mazur than any of us are really comfortable with. One of things you notice when the two women are together is they share the exact same shade of cornflower blue eyes. Those eyes have dropped from my face to the book.
Bony fingers extended from her crepe skinned hand and plucked the book from my grasp. She turned it to read the bright red cover. A sly smile broke across her face and she gave me a once over that sent my oversized appendage into hiding.
"Lester, right? I'm curious to see if there is any truth in your advertising. How about you give me a shot at tackling your tonsil tickler? I've been told it's even better without my dentures," she said, moving them around in her mouth like she was going to take them out right then and there.
"Um, gee, look at the time. Thanks for the offer, but I've got to go. You can keep the book. I'm done with it," I said, backing away from her and beelining for the door.
Maybe my mother was right, and it's time for me to find a nice girl and settle down. Or, I could try the clubs in Philly.
Epilogue:
The Rangeman Christmas party is in full swing and it is time to hand out the secret Santa gifts. Once again, bottles of single malt Scotch, top shelf tequila and boring gift cards are the norm. Tank's gift is wrapped in festive red paper that features kittens in Santa hats. He gently pries the tape from the seams, careful not to rip the kitten's faces. Inside is a book titled "How to Talk to Your Cat About Gun Safety (and Abstinence, Drugs, Satanism and Other Dangers that Threaten Their Nine Lives.)"