[pseudoclever]

Chapter Two


The room was dimly lit, and a faint, pleasant odor was wafting through the air. I couldn't quite put my finger on its source, but it smelled delicious. The tension from a hard day of work began to melt away as I removed my shoes and went into the dining room.

Two places were set for dinner, and a single candle was flickering brightly from the center of the table, filling the room with a cheery glow. My girlfriend sat waiting for me. Kristen had combed her hair straight tonight, her auburn locks spilling over her shoulders like a breaking wave. She wore a red tank top that clung to her like a second skin, perfectly showcasing her thin, athletic body. The sleeveless outfit also gave me a good look at her beautifully toned arms. Kristen was fairly muscular for a woman, her active job keeping her fit. Were she not a relatively short five foot three, she might have even managed to look intimidating.

She looked up at me as I entered the room, a pair of glasses adorning her cute face, and smiled affectionately. “?Hola mi amor! What do you think?” She gestured toward the table.

“I think you look amazing as always,” I said, gazing into her eyes.

“That's not what I meant,” she said, but her smile widened. Kristen rose from the table and sauntered over to me, her knee-length skirt making a pleasant swishing noise with each step she took. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I leaned down to kiss her tenderly. Her lips were soft and supple, tasting ever so faintly of peach lip gloss. Just as things were really starting to heat up, she abruptly stepped away from me. “Dinner's getting cold. We'll have plenty of time for that later.”

I sighed dramatically. “The best things in lift are worth waiting for, I suppose.” We sat together, and she served me a helping of roast chicken with spaghetti in Alfredo sauce. From the first bite I was reminded that Kristen is quite a talented cook when she puts her mind to it. Most evenings she prefers microwave dinners or, more often, large enough quantities of junk food to fill her up.

We ate together, chatting idly. She told me about her day, which featured a ten hour shift, angry customers and incompetent co-workers. I waxed poetically about my evening delivering food to stoners and fat people. In this way it was no different from any other night. As we bantered, however, I could sense that Kristen had something else on her mind. It would be easy to say that she was just looking forward to the after-dinner festivities. But I knew her well enough to tell that there was something else. The way she kept chewing on her lower lip, the way she kept glancing into the kitchen....

We took our time, just enjoying each other's company, and so it was quite awhile before we finished eating. “That was great, hun. Would you like some help clearing the table?”

She smiled mysteriously, and shook her head. “Thanks, but I'll take care of it.” Kristen collected our plates, and started to walk into the kitchen. Just before I lost sight of her, she looked over her shoulder and gave me a wink. A few seconds later I heard the dishes clatter in the sink, followed, cryptically, by the sound of a plastic bag crinkling. When Kristen returned she was holding her hands behind her back and wearing a Cheshire cat grin.

“Okay, I'll bite. What have you got there?” I asked.

“Oh, I can't decide whether I should just tell you, or let you figure it out for yourself...decisions, decisions.” She hoped back and forth from one foot to the other, her face aglow with eagerness.

“Can I at least have a hint?” I knew that in these sorts of situations I would have to bait her out a little bit. If I seemed too interested she would pull back and not tell me anything.

“A hint...hmm.... Well, it has something to do with what you told me the other day.”

“Can you be a little more specific? I tell you a lot of things.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “This was something important. Remember, we were having that conversation about our ideal mates....” Ah, of course I remembered THAT conversation.

From the moment she'd broached the subject I had been wary. It doesn't take a master strategist to deduce that this is a no-win scenario for most men. But she'd goaded me, and eventually I had agreed to play along. Kristen's answers had been just what you'd expect – someone caring, with a good sense of humor, and a rock hard butt. When it was my turn, my first couple features were easy – someone I enjoy spending time with, a person I can talk to about the things I care about, someone to listen to my various witty remarks. As for physical features, I like girls with good muscle tone, and, like most men, big breasts.

“That's all?” she had said. “Isn't there something else?” God, Kristen was far too good at reading me. There WAS something else...but the last time I had told a girlfriend about THAT, it had ended...badly. On the other hand, Kristen and I had been together for quite awhile now, and I was coming to find that I could trust her with any secret I wanted to confide in her.

I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I've...always been intrigued by the idea of being with a woman who is really tall. Er...I mean, taller than I am. I'm not sure why, but it just seems so...erotic. That I could kiss her without having to bend down. Or that she could just press me against the wall, pin my arms over my head, and really take control of a sexual encounter. I know it's weird, but I've always felt that way, and....” I trailed off, not knowing what else to say. My heart was pounding in my throat as I studied her for a reaction.

She had sat down next to me and looked me in the eye, a bemused smile on her lovely face. I had been about to open my mouth to apologize, when suddenly she had taken me in her arms and hugged me tight. “Thank you,” was all she had said. I had been so overjoyed that it hadn't resulted in a shouting match or all sorts of awkward questions that all I could do was smile and hug her back.

“Yes, I remember that conversation,” I told her, coming out of my reverie. “But do you remember what I told you afterward? That I love you, no matter how tall or short you are. You don't need to change anything for me.”

“And what if I wanted to change?” she asked slyly.

I blinked. “Huh?”

“It makes me happy to make you happy, that's all. And if I could find a way to be taller for you, well...maybe that's something both of us can enjoy.”

“I'm not sure I follow you. What do you mean by 'find a way?’” Whatever it was she was holding behind her back, I knew it was small. Too small, at any rate, to hold a pair of platform shoes, and beyond that I couldn't think of anything else that could possibly make her taller.

“Okay, I'll tell you. But you have to promise to suspend your disbelief. Promise?”

Uh-oh, I thought. “Sure, I promise.”