I love waking up in bed on Saturday morning. I'm sorry, let me correct myself. Saturday afternoon! There's no urgent fear of needing to get to work on time and when you really allow yourself to relax, you end up sleeping the day away. With the digital clock telling me that it was fifteen after two, I knew I had to finally pull the covers away and force myself to get out of bed. I was ready to stand after I sat up but what I saw made me pause.
The giant cigar that Fat Jim had given to me last night was resting on the night stand. I couldn't help but wonder as I scratched my chin... I don't recall taking it with me. Not at all. I picked it up and held it in my right hand. Fat Jim's voice rang in my head as I felt the familiar weight of the cigar in my hand, "Go on, Mark, Try it." I chuckled as I pulled the drawer open and searched for my lighter. In less than a minute, I had my giant cigar lit and puffing up a great storm. God, it was so delicious and so relaxing.
I stood, pulled on my bathrobe, and made a sleepy walk into the kitchen where I started up a very late breakfast for myself. Couple of eggs, strips of bacon, some ham - A knock at the front door brought me out of my reverie. I started to head for the door but remembered to slide the pan off the burner and turned the stove off. Another knock came. "Shit! Coming!" I shoved the cigar into the ashtray and rushed to the front door. Another impatient knock had me throwing my door open... but who I saw made me smile.
"Hey, Daddy!" Grant said with a smile and spread arms. He rushed in and gave me a big hug. Grant is a mystery himself. He's quite muscular and got himself a shiny bald head. His mustache is another story as it's rather huge. It was as if his hair moved down south. Grant is the leader of a biker gang in the next county over but when he tires of being the top dog, he turns into a hungry bottom and makes secret visits to me.
I chuckled as held him tight against myself. "Oh yeah, I can't tell you how much I missed you," I said as I pulled back from him. Instantly, I noticed I was looking him straight in the eyes. With a raised brow I asked, "Did you get new boots?" We simultaneously looked down to his ratty ass boots.
"No. Why?"
I wriggled my toes against the cold hardwood floor. "No reason." I wasn't wearing any shoes so it just seems like we're the same height.
"Mmm, It smells good." Grant said as he pushed by me, "What you eating?"
I closed the front door and followed behind him. "The question is, what am I eating and that's breakfast."
"Not gonna offer me anything? Come on now..."
When we entered the kitchen, I grabbed my pan and gave the food a few appreciative pokes with a fork before I was satisfied that they had been thoroughly cooked and didn't require more cooking time. I dumped them onto my plate and grabbed a fork to start eating. I had no idea how hungry I really was until I had swallowed the first bite. My stomach was impatient!
"Daaaaamn," Grant commented as he noticed the cigar, "What the hell??" As he reached for it, I snapped with a mouthful, "Don't touch!"
"All right, geez. Relax."
We both went into the living room to watch tv. Grant made himself comfortable by kicking off his boots and removed his shirt. By then, I had cleared my plate and set it aside on the stand. He slowly snuggled up to me and started rubbing his hand around my small gut. "You're looking more sexy every time I see you..."
I grunted softly with my gaze on the tv set.
"You know what would be more sexy? If I could see you smoking that cigar... Never seen you with a big one before."
I looked over to him with a growing smile and nodded. "Too bad I don't have anyone to get it for me..."
"Har." He said before he quickly fetched me the cigar in record time and was back in his spot next to me. "Let me!" came the eager request as he held out a lighter for me. In no time, I was puffing away. Somehow, in some way, this felt right. The cigar's size required my full hand in order to hold it with comfort. Somewhere in my daydreaming, I heard Grant comment that the smell of the cigar was good but I didn't really take note of it.
"Mmm," I finally said out loud to myself.
"So you gonna give that thing a break?"
I looked over to him with slight surprise. "Didn't you just want to see me smoke this baby?"
"Yeah... fifteen minutes ago. Now you're sucking all the oxygen outta here."
It wasn't fifteen minutes ago. I just started this cigar a couple seconds ago. I looked around for a clock in the room but failed to find one. In order to find some sort of retort, I looked back at him and said, "I don't get how you're the leader of a group of bikers and be this whiny."
Grant stood to his full 5'8 height and stared down at me. "Oh yeah, Daddy?" His tone changed to a more sarcastic route as he said, "Them's are fightin' words. Put `em up!"
"You're challenging your Daddy? Now that's not right..."
Grant turned towards the window and with a big grin, I decided to stand so that it'd catch Grant off guard when he looks back to me - but I was the one who got the surprise! I had to look up a bit to see Grant's eye from his turned face! I snapped my head down to the floor and Grant was only wearing dirty socks. ... What the hell? Before Grant could finally look back to me, I bent over and groaned.
"Daddy? What's the matter?" He placed a hand on my back and leaned down a bit to try to see my face. "Are you okay?? You're not mad, are you?"
"No... no." My voice was too strong and healthy! I groaned again and chuckled sarcastically, "Must've been something I ate for breakfast. I... I think I need to go lay down. That's all."
"I'll take care of y-"
"No. Go ahead. Get going. Don't waste the rest of the day with me."
"B-"
"No, go on, Grant. I'm sure you have asses to kick and names to take."
"Well, fuck, all right..."
He stood there for a few seconds longer before he shrugged and grabbed his shirt. "Call me if it gets worse, all right?" As he shoved each foot into a boot, he added, "Fuck that. I'll be here tonight because I know how you are!" He marched his way to the front door and let himself out.
As soon as I was absolutely sure that he had left, I straightened up and hurried into the kitchen. "Tape measure, tape measure, tape meas- oh!" I had found it in the third drawer to the right of the stove. I rushed to the bathroom, closed the door and almost threw myself against the door to measure my height with a pencil. The tape measure screeched as I violently yanked on the ribbon. I held the end with my toe and pulled the tape measure straight up to my marked line.
"This can't be right... What the...?"
But sure enough, it was staring me in the face. Five foot six.