"Porn is funny," Lindsay said as she looked through a box that she had found in Danny's closet.
"Huh?" Danny continued to rearrange his linen closet, a project that he had been putting off for ages, but finally decided to do that night that he went searching for an extra blanket and woke up on the floor the next morning after being knocked unconscious by a tire pump.
He finally got the extra blankets to stay and turned to see what she was doing. "Oh, crap!"
Danny lunged toward her and snatched away the box. "So, you, uh… saw that?"
Lindsay stared at him for a moment and then burst into laughter. "You mean did I see your big box of porn? Yeah, I really did. It's quite an impressive collection."
Danny could feel the blush rising to his cheeks. He wasn't generally a blusher, but his fairly new girlfriend seeing his rather substantial porno collection was something that brought color to his face. "Would you believe me if I told you that I'm just holding it for someone?"
Lindsay laughed again. "You're not sixteen, and I'm not your mom catching you with a joint. But you are cute when you blush."
Danny ducked his head down and rubbed the back of his neck. "So, this is awkward."
"Ohhh." Lindsay nodded. "I bet this is the part when you expect me to demand that you throw that box away." She stood up and smoothed out her shirt. "I tell you that it's damaging our relationship or something?"
Danny unconsciously hugged the box to his chest. "Well, there is a reason that the box is labeled Old Jock Straps ."
She looked at him quizzically. "Yeah, I thought that was pretty weird. I mean, I know that guys have weird habits and attachments… but an old box of jockstraps? That's way more bizarre than a big box of porn." She walked over to him and tapped the box with her index finger. "I think that maybe girls don't understand porn the way that guys do."
"Hey, now," he said as he finally put the box down on the table. "Are you forgetting that I've been to your apartment. You think you're sly, Montana. Trying to bury you Nora Roberts collection under forensics magazines."
It was Lindsay's turn to blush. "Hey! She's a respectable author!"
"Sure." Danny nodded. "OK, then what about the other stash? The ones you keep in the wicker basket in your closet. With all the paperbacks with the shirtless men and then women in half torn corsets?"
"I, uh…" She pointed her finger at him. Her mouth was open, but nothing came out.
"See, Montana…"
"Wait!" she exclaimed, cutting him off. "That is literature."
"Sure, with all those heaving bosoms."
She smacked his arm. "At least I'm reading!"
"Oh, my Lord Cock-Swallow!" Danny teased, putting his hand to his forehead and pretending to swoon.
"Oh," Lindsay moaned, figuring that two could play that game, "you're so hot, random man I met just twelve seconds ago in a poorly lit elevator. Do me!"
Danny stopped his swooning and looked at her. "You're kinda hot when you do that."
"Messer!"
"What?"
"You would seriously have sex with a random woman you met in an elevator?"
"Would you actually live in 19th century England, betrothed to some evil prince?" he countered.
She glared at him. "How about we make a deal?"
"You never talk about the box, and I never mention the wicker basket?"
"Deal."