***Warning: Mature (but humorous) Theme***
The Little Woman
Brandon was a nice guy, but there were some strange things about him. He had a penchant for wearing unusually baggy pants. They didn’t fit the rest of his conservative style. Sometimes James found Brandon at his desk with his left leg sticking out straight. It was a curious pose that didn’t look comfortable. So why do it? Additionally, he never once saw Brandon use the urinal at work; always the stall. James imagined that Brandon had an artificial leg, but he was too shy to ask about it.
Curious about the man, James invited Brandon for a couple beers after work. Once they got talking about strategy in NFL football, James forgot to ask about the alleged artificial leg. They went for beers a few more times. Brandon often talked about his wife and her hobbies. She seemed like the classic “little woman.” When Brandon showed a portrait picture of her, James couldn’t help whistling. Stella was gorgeous. If she had a body to go with that face, she belonged on the cover of Cosmopolitan, not baking her amazing cookies at home.
That was another odd thing about Brandon. He stood perhaps 5’9″, on the short side of average, and was only average-looking. How did he get such a gorgeous woman? When Brandon invited James over to watch the football game, James accepted immediately. Perhaps he would get some answers.
When James entered Brandon’s house, he noticed something strange right off. The doorways were very high. Another curious style. James caught him looking around with a quizzical expression. “Yeah, I know,” said James. “The little woman LOVES to clean. It’s always spotless like this. A little too clean for me, but it makes her happy.”
The place was immaculate, and tastefully furnished. James couldn’t help imagining a little 4’10” Hispanic woman, albeit more gorgeous than Eva Longoria, feverishly vacuuming every ten minutes. “Hey, clean is better than the alternative.” James meandered while Brandon grabbed beers from the kitchen. He found some lovely napkin holders made from a purplish stone.
When Brandon returned he noted James examining the napkin holders. Brandon handed him a beer and smirked. “Stella’s rings,” he said. “She takes them off when she’s knitting.”
Rings? James could put two fingers through one. “Yeah, sure.” He took a swig of beer.
That’s when Stella walked in.
James choked on his beer.
“Oh!” squeaked Stella in a thin, little voice. “Sorry about that. Brandon likes strong beer.” She offered a hand the size of a catchers mitt. “I’m Stella.”
Brandon nearly wrenched his neck looking up to see her face. The picture didn’t lie. She was beautiful, and with a nice body, but she was easily eight feet tall. “Uh, hi there,” he stammered.
She grinned. The woman could easily swallow an orange, whole. James let go of her three fingers. It was all he could get his hand around. Stella turned to Brandon. “Don’t play the game too loud, okay sweetie? I’m knitting in the next room.” She bent over nearly double to kiss Brandon with lips that nearly covered his face.
James’ was still staring when Stella walked down the hallway. Brandon poked him. “Dude. I know my wife’s good-looking, but take it easy, okay?”
James said, “Well yeah, but…that’s not…”
“She doesn’t go out much because people always stare. It’s tough for really hot women, actually.”
“She’s kinda tall too.”
James choked on his beer. He nonchalantly said, “Yeah, you could say that.” He wondered what oral was like with them. Did he stick his whole head in? “So how did you two meet?”
“Hmm. You don’t seem the type.”
“Yeah, well. I had troubles finding the right woman.”
“Why? You’re an okay-looking guy. Dates shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thanks,” Brandon took a swig of beer. “Dates were no trouble. But when it came to that ‘crucial moment,'” He adjusted his pant leg. “It was keeping a girl that was the problem.”
“Ah. The, ah…the arti…the thing…”
“What? No!” Brandon lifted up his pant cuff. “See? Perfectly normal leg.”
James was confused. He did what men do when confused. He drank some more beer. “So what was the problem?”
“Well, you see. I…” He held his hands a far distance apart. “I’m really, you know…big. You get my meaning?”
James smirked. “How big?”
Brandon tapped his left leg below his knee.
“Jesus!” James choked on his beer again. His throat was getting raw. “So that’s why.”
“Yeah. Even when Stella found a guy interested in such a tall woman, he was never quite the right, ‘fit,’ you know?”
James grinned and clacked beers with Brandon. “Maybe you’re no basketball player, but you’re just the right size.”
“Yep,” Brandon smiled. “You could say, we were made for each other.”