Disclaimer: Standard verse, doesn't change much. JE gets the glory and I get the fun.
A/N: Remember, not only is it Friday somewhere, it's five o'clock somewhere, too.
Let's and Say We Didn't 04
Friday Belongs to Frederick Rodriguez
by Alfonsina
Cassandra double checked her list for the third time that hour. She knew she had everything for her boss's vacation to be a success: skis, warm clothing, extra memory for his camera, and reservations at the best B&B in Aspen. When she packed his bag for him, she made sure he had a sleep mask so the room would be dark enough for him to get plenty of shut eye.
She even called Grant's current lady love, Alicia Hayworth, to ensure she'd be at the airport on time for the all expenses paid, four day, romantic rendezvous.
When Grant initially asked her to set up a ski weekend for two, somehow Cassandra thought she was the other one in the equation. She skied, loved snow, and had lived in Aspen when she was younger. She thought he finally figured out that she was desperately in love with her him.
For two years, she'd been sending out what she thought were the right signals. She made sure he never had to think about coffee or meals when he was at work. His schedule was meticulously organized and updated. Thoughtful gifts for families and friends were procured on his behalf long in advance, wrapped, and shipped with personalized notes signed by him but written by her. She'd smoothed out all of the rough patches in his life.
Last night in a tearful conversation with her best friend, Chloe, she came to a conclusion. There was no way Grant Tucker would ever pay attention to her in a romantic or sexual way because she'd turned into his MOTHER.
~x~x~
"So you had women falling at your feet last night. That's new for you. Nice. Very nice," Caesar said. "Pass the syrup. You make really dry waffles. "
Some Sunday morning traditions never changed, for some families that meant church or sleeping late. In the Rodriguez household Sunday always meant waffles and church. From the time he was a kid, Frederick's mother worked two waffle irons and made enough batter to feed a dozen kids. There was one catch: no church, no waffles. Today's Egg-O Waffles direct from the freezer weren't the same, but tradition was tradition, sort of, and it was Sunday morning.
"If they're dry, it's because you left them in the toaster too long, doofus" Frederick said as he passed a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's across the table. "And it was one woman, not multiple. Besides, Connie didn't fall at my feet. She tripped because see didn't see me."
"Oh, this has got to be good. How could she miss you? You're six foot three and your shoulders are broader than mine. It sucks that your waist and hips are narrower than mine. I miss wrestling, I was buff back in the day." Caesar went to the refrigerator to retrieve a stick of butter. "You need to get some blueberry syrup for next time. I'm getting tired of Mrs. Butterworth's." He uncapped the bottle and held it over his plate to the count of ten to ensure proper rehydration of the stack of waffles.
"Next time you complain about Sunday morning breakfast or my preference in syrup, you're in charge of making it or paying for it at a restaurant." Not that Frederick liked IHOP, but if they couldn't get the waffles right, no one could. "Keep using syrup like that and you'll go into a diabetic coma and I'll make sure no one visits you in the hospital." Right. Frederick would probably live in the hospital room if it ever happened.
"Fine. So anyway, you tripped her. Go on."
"I was in the bathroom because my eyes were dry. I took out my contacts so I could put some water on them." He'd excused himself after Denise lifted a tablecloth to display what she called 'the best part of a man without the man'. It was too much information and they were devices he never considered using when he was with a woman. The unveiling was a good time to excuse himself from the group who had been avidly commenting on the pros and cons of the various offerings. "I lost one of the lenses when I was in the bathroom. I was on my hands and knees looking for it. Most of me was in the room, by my ankles and feet were in the hallway. She didn't see my foot and stumbled over it."
"So I was right, she did fall at your feet. Did you find the contact?"
"Yeah."
"No harm, no foul."
"Actually, she sprained her wrist when she used the doorframe to stop her fall. I took her to the ER to have it x-rayed."
"I like my story better. She wanted to get to know you and threw herself at you so you'd finally break your dry spell. God, but you're boring."
"Yeah, yeah. Next time you get up check to see if I've got any whipped cream. I've got a craving for it."
"Any in your fridge or the freezer?"
"None in the fridge. Maybe the freezer." There was an unopened tub of frozen whipped topping until last night when he made three banana splits for himself. His recipe was mostly vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and just enough banana to justify the dessert as being fruit. Last night, he had to endure ten women extolling the virtues of various sweet concoctions as aids in their sex lives. After he got home, he ate an entire jar of maraschino cherries after he poured the juice into a bottle of Seven Up and had a Shirley Temple. What he'd really wanted when he got home was a Tom Collins, but he didn't have either the gin or any Collins mix. It was time to make a grocery list: hot chocolate sauce, gin, Collins mix, whipped cream (frozen and the aerosol kind), maraschino cherries, graham crackers, butterscotch hard candies, jelly beans, chocolate frosting, Captain Crunch, and Hamburger Helper. He should probably only buy the Hamburger Helper, but he dreamt of high sugar and fat content food.
He couldn't stop the disturbing conversation from replaying over and over in his head.
"Come on Bardo," Denise had said. "Surely you can give us the male perspective on whipped cream."
"It's great on hot fudge sundaes with cherries on top or on pie. My favorite is rhubarb." It wasn't until all of the women in the group laughed that he realized he was the only one talking about dessert. They were all thinking dessert. There was only one woman in the group he might have considered as a potential for dessert, but she was not only off limits, she didn't know he even existed.
Initially, there were some candles, lotions and potions presented for sale. He figured they'd all buy enough things they'd need a brown paper bag. He was wrong and naïve all because he hadn't asked for any details before agreeing to attend. Everyone had the opportunity to sample several of the massage oils. That wasn't too bad until Denise offered to lick it off him to see if the flavor was different on a man's skin. He might have agreed but there was something about her feral smile that made him squeamish. Then again, maybe not. Long ago he'd learned to fake it when he was out of his depth. Not to mention he was acquainted with most of the women, they all did multi-level marketing and attending this was just professional courtesy. Wasn't it? But the whole licking thing was above and beyond the call of duty. Just thinking about the possibility made him shudder.
The display of lingerie was even harder to deal with. Sure some of it was pretty. All of the women's stuff was lacy and filmy. Most of it left little if anything to the imagination. He'd been glad that there was no fashion show. Unfortunately they started asking for his opinion and he was in the deep end without any water wings. Normally he wouldn't have minded giving his opinion about favorite colors and length, but when they asked which would be better to get the attention of specific males did he become really uncomfortable. He didn't want to know that Roy looked especially happy the morning after Theresa wore a bright red merry widow. No way did he want to think about the good mood Lester would be in when he discovered his girlfriend's new 'lady courtesan' black lace nightie. He needed to investigate some of these parties more closely before he agreed to attend any more.
"That reminds me. I bought you something last night," Frederick said. "It should be here next week."
"Ooh. Did you get me the new ultra-thin condoms with extra ribbing? You didn't forget that I like the extra-large. I'm almost out. I only have three dozen left."
"No. You know better than to ask me to buy you condoms." When they'd been roommates at University of Arizona, Caesar tried to take him to an adult bookstore to buy them since they were supposedly superior. When the clerk offered to show them great toys for couples Frederick balked and bolted. It was the one and only time they'd been in a store like that together. "I got you a pair of raspberry colored drawstring pajama pants. Silky fabric. You'll like them."
"Why? I sleep in the buff."
"Because you never know when company is coming." There was nothing he felt comfortable buying for himself but he felt obligated to buy something as a show of good manners. The only noncontroversial thing he could find to buy were pajama pants that he didn't need.
"Sure I do. It is usually preceded by the words 'don't stop' and some heavy breathing. Usually there's some writhing and a look of tortured ecstasy." Caesar wagged his eyebrows and winked. "Seriously, you know I don't ever have overnight company because I don't believe in awkward morning afters."
"I'd forgotten about your rule. The only one who ever stayed over was Victor."
"Victor never stayed over. I stayed with him. Damn, I still miss him. You know I always did have things for tall blonds with blue eyes and long hair." Victor was all about monogamy and commitment. He also wanted a family. The worst sin he committed was that he wanted those things with Caesar. Caesar ran as fast as he could into the arms of the next six waiting men.
"You're all about the outer package. I think there's more to women than their looks and sex. Women are complex. After breakfast, want to go to the grocery with me? I've already got a list and I'm out of your soda and cookies."
"You're changing the subject. Sex isn't that complicated. You make it that way which explains why you never get laid. So, go on about last night's offerings. It can't have been that embarrassing or humiliating."
Oh yes it could. Frederick had been embarrassed, but was able to live with it until the table cloth was lifted from a display of multi-colored vibrators and dildos. Not a single one of them looked like something that might have occurred in nature. There were ridges where none naturally existed, girth that was enviable, and gyrations that weren't possible to replicate, ever.
"Ladies and Bardo, I present to you the best of a man without the actual man. These handy, dandy devices are all about you. They don't get tired, don't make demands, and don't have unrealistic expectations. Plus, if you're in the mood and have enough batteries, they can go all night without complaint."
That was when he decided he needed a break and the only safe place was the bathroom or in with the baby. He'd changed the baby twenty minutes before when a display of flavored potions was displayed to numb the gag reflex. He left before he could hear anyone extolling the virtues of that line of products. He found safety in numbers, even if the numbers were small. Earlier that night, he got wetter than the baby did at bath time. He had to walk down the house in a soaking wet, white shirt that clung to him. He needed to check the car and see if he had clean clothes in his workout bag.
As he headed out the door he heard things that weren't really meant for his ears.
"Ladies, we now have proof that God is alive and She loves us," Denise said. "I think we need a moment silence to say a prayer of thanksgiving. Can I get an amen?"
All of the women intoned the word at the same time. Three of them crossed themselves and the others fanned their faces with their order forms.
"Yes, God definitely broke the mold when that chest was made," Theresa said. "Don't any of you let Roy know I said that. He's proud of the fact he has six pack abs, he'd resent knowing I've been up close to and admiring an eight pack. Oh my, I think I need a personal moment. Anyone else need some ice?"
"Well, my Tommy has a pony keg," Rachel, the blond, snickered. "I only get close to a six pack when I'm buying his beer. And it only stays a six pack until he finds it in the refrigerator."
"I get to see them all of the time," Connie said. "I look at my ICON men calendar daily." What she didn't say was that almost daily she encountered men who were hot and built, but they were always completely dressed so she had to use her imagination.
There were two identical duffle bags in the back of the van. He chose the one closer to him, pulled out the black t-shirt and changed it before he went back into the house. It was only after Denise laughed did he look down at the shirt. It said, "I like boys who sparkle." Caesar had a crush on both Edward from the Twilight Series and had this same shirt in three colors. At least it wasn't the Team Jacob shirt that was in baby pink. One day soon Caesar would die a slow and humiliating death. Until then, he was going to quit carrying around Caesar's spare clothes.
"So get to where she fell at your feet." Caesar said. "Don't keep me in suspense."
"Evidently she was desperate to use the john and was in a big real hurry." Maybe she was trying to get away from the discussion, but he couldn't tell.
"Did her skirt at least bunch up so you could get a good look at the goodies?"
"Are you sure you're the one who's gay?" Frederick wiped his hands over his face and let out a sigh. "She had on slacks." The pants were a soft grey that fit her like a glove and made the most of her ass. He'd known Connie for a couple of years, but seldom seen her stand up or smile. Usually when he was at the bond's office she was on the phone trying to put out one fire or another. She didn't make much small talk. When he was around, she'd been pretty much all business.
"You have no luck. You know that, right?"
"Actually, last night she was the one who didn't have any luck. At least it was her left wrist so she won't be too debilitated."
"Was the ER at least fun? Any cute male nurses or attendants? I have a thing for men in uniforms. That's not true. I have a thing for men out of their uniforms."
"I think you're the one who needs to get a life. I don't ask for details of your evenings' activities. Ever." Frederick learned that lesson the hard way a long time ago.
"All you have to do is ask. So tell me about last night."
"We were in the Emergency Room for three hours."
"Who all is we? Come on."
"It was Connie and me. But Denise and Theresa called every fifteen minutes to see how she was and if they needed to come to keep her company."
"Fess up. You really wanted, what was her name, Ruth or is it Roberta, to spend time alone with you. I know you have a thing for willowy blondes."
"You mean Robin and she's too skinny for me." He'd gone out with her once and she wouldn't eat more than half a radish and part of a stick of celery. "I like women who look and feel like women. Think pinups from World War II. Think curves. Think Vargas girls. You know, Jane Russell or Marilyn Monroe. Real." Connie definitely fit the description of a real woman. She had curves in all the right places and the few times he'd seen her walk, he'd been mesmerized by the way her hips swayed. If she hadn't been a client, well best not to even think about that.
"More cushion for the pushin'?"
"You might say that."
"I just did. So what kind of cushion is Connie? Overstuffed? Hard? Soft? Flat? Details."
"Can't really say." He knew better than to elaborate; Caesar had no sense of discretion. "It was more important to keep her distracted while she waited to have wrist checked and wrapped." All the time he was trying to help her get her paperwork filled out, she'd been trying to get rid of him.
"Do you want me to call someone for you? I'm sure you'd want your boyfriend to keep you company." He'd asked hoping she'd say there was no one, at least no boyfriend.
"You can go home. I'm sure you've got better things to do than babysit me."
"I feel responsible. It's my fault you're here in the first place." Good thing she was a client and therefore, by his own code of ethics and standards, was off limits. He was beginning to feel like one of the heroines in one of his tawdry romance novels, pining for someone who had no idea he was alive all the while wondering if her lips were really as soft as they looked.
"Fine. After it's over I'll call someone."
"So, did you at least get a kiss goodnight?"
"No. It wasn't a date gone bad. It wasn't a date of any kind." She hadn't blamed him, but she hadn't talked much while they were in the ER. It might have had to do with the prescription bottle he saw her pull from her purse. She'd closed her eyes and started to hum about half an hour after she took a pill.
"Nope, Friday definitely wasn't a date. It was better. It was a sex toy party. How cool is that? Did you become a distributor so I can get discounts and have my own parties?"
"Not yet." Maybe never. Then again, if he charged Caesar full retail, it might just be worth it. Would Denise be willing to MC a party for a bunch of gay men or do a production for the next bachelor party? Probably if there was enough commission potential.
"Are you doing to do the knight in shining armor thing for this Connie person?"
"What do you mean?" He hadn't considered it, but the idea of being a woman's knight in shining armor had definite appeal.
"Take her to work and do chores around her place? It would be an easy in if you want to check out the cushion factor." Caesar waggled his eyebrows for emphasis.
Thanks in advance for reading and reviewing. I promise, we'll be turning up the heat soon. Really.
And thanks as always for stopping by to check on Frederick on Friday!
