His wife of almost one year had gone to the store yesterday to buy fresh mangos. Once Vince had told her he had never had one, she rushed for him to try one.
They went to a smoothie shop and she got him a mango-strawberry mix. He didn't really like it, but ate it anyway to satisfy her. Then she saw dried mango chips and tried to make him eat them all. He couldn't handle the taste or texture of it, so she ate the rest.
Then, last night, she went to the store especially for mangos. Now it was the morning, and she peeled it and presented it to him for breakfast. She held it out to him, to take a bite like an apple. He noticed how sticky it was, juices running down her arm as she held it in the air.
"It's good, you'll love it, everyone does," she looked up at him, eyes pleading. He didn't know why she wanted him to eat it so much, it was just food. "Just try it, please…?"
How could he resist her, or that face? Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth towards the once green fruit. He took a small bite, and something like pain shot all the way around his mouth. It was too sweet, too tangy.
Still, he swallowed it, without chewing, and stated, "It's just a little too tangy…"
"Fine, I'll eat it," so she walked off to their bedroom in his giant mansion, still not changed or ready for the day.
He followed her into the room, where she was getting under the covers, mango still in hand.
"Please don't eat that in our bed…"
She looked at him, the picture of innocence, "Why?"
"Because our covers will get sticky and stained,"
"C'mon," she pouted, "it'll wash, Vin…" she had a point, plus, it was going to be on her side.
So she sat there, happily munching away at the now orange fruit, while Vince read a very intelligent looking book. They sat for a while in silence, until she made a small noise that caused Vincent to look over at her.
She bit into a juicy part of the mango, causing pale orange liquid to dribble down her chin. A single blob of juice dripped off and landed on her chest. Because of the size of the drop, and her pajama top (a really low cut v-neck), it was able to run freely down her chest, leaving an orange trail behind it.
Eventually, it lost momentum, slowing to a stop just before being absorbed by the fabric of her shirt. To Vince, it was torture to watch this display of event unfold.
He leaned over, pulled the neck of her shirt over, and pulled his face towards her breasts. He let his tongue trace the drop's track, across her breast, up past her collar bone, and, stopping where the blob first fell.
He then, ignoring her stares, calmly picked up his book and began to read where he stopped. On second thought, maybe mangos weren't so bad.
