Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms by Chuck Austen Page B

long as we’re trapped here, Ms. Nuckeby, I’ll take the moment to apologize for my…you know…my earlier…eh…” I let it hang there. At least the words, if not the actual item in question.
    She waited, apparently a bit lost or confused.
    “Erection?” she said, maybe not so lost or confused. “Oh, that’s all right. I didn’t mind. Honestly, I’d have been disappointed it if hadn’t happened.”
    She laughed a bit, and I melted at the sound of her delicate tones. I could see a bit of her smile in the small amount of light coming in under the door and wished I could see more. More smile , that is.
    Okay, other things too.
    “As it is, I was kind of flattered actually,” she said.
    That surprised me. Who would have thought? I looked down into the darkness and wondered if seeing it now would flatter her even more. It never felt so… big . Like it was filling the entire closet and at any moment might take on a life of its own, knock her down, and start rubbing itself all over her like a neglected pet.
    “More importantly, Mister Wopplesdown, I hope you didn’t think I was being unprofessional, or provocative in some way. Walking out as I did. You know. Topless and all.”
    “No, no. No, of course not. Many of our designs are topless—you know…by…em…design. And you were marvelously professional. Visibly professional.”
    “And, of course, I don’t mind being seen that way, you know.”
    Bloop.
    I said nothing. I was expending all my energy fighting to keep my panting erection down, boy, down.
    “Topless,” she added, taking my silence to mean—I don’t know, lack of understanding? Ignorance? Having become a eunuch since last we saw one another?
    Gloop.
    “Otherwise I couldn’t do it,” she continued. “Model lingerie, I mean. You have to have confidence in yourself, right? Know you’ve got something worth looking at.”
    Glorp.
    “Indeed,” I said.
    “I just thought you should know,” she said, her voice and stance relaxing a bit. “I appreciate my job. I need my job, and I didn’t intend to jeopardize it in any way. When your grandfather came in so angry, insisting that I stay away from you…”
    “Yes. Well, he has other concerns. Some of them valid.”
    “Oh, I know. We’ve all heard the stories. Quite a libido your family has.”
    “We pay extra for that.”
    “So I hear. Anyway, it’s drummed into the models before we leave the agency that we aren’t supposed to date any Wopplesdown— male, or female,” she paused, and her voice lowered a bit. “No matter how desperately we may want to.”
    There was a rather pointed edge to her last sentence fragment that made me seriously wish that I was either a) not a Wopplesdown, or b) at a comic book convention. Unfortunately for me I was neither, and, c) didn’t have the brains to leave well enough alone.
    “I suppose,” I said, “that’s not a problem though. The ‘desperately wanting to’ part, I mean. I can’t imagine any…eh…Wopplesdown appeals to you well enough that you might feel…em…in any way…you know… desperate about them.”
    “Oh? You imagine that , do you?” she asked, rather too seductively I thought. Or perhaps it just felt that way, my being naked and all.
    “Are you saying there may be some…” I swallowed with some difficulty. “…A little…a tiny bit of…em… desperation, you know, to date a…uh…a Wopplesdown?”
    “There is one I find somewhat attractive,” she said, breathing deeply herself.
    “My sister, Mimsi?”
    She laughed again. A mesmerizing sound.
    “She leans that way, you know,” I said.
    “Everyone knows. No. It’s definitely one of the male Wopplesdowns.”
    “Ah,” I said.
    “Your grandfather.”
    “ What?”
    More laughter. It melted me.
    “Oh, he’s so hot,” she said sarcastically. “When he came charging at me, threatening me—it was hard to contain myself. Especially when he began verbally berating me. I love it when an older man treats me like a