Page 15 of Our Sadie
“With earmuffs?”
“Sure.” Why not?
“Is this like that joke?” Jerome begins, munching on a bite of eggs before continuing. “About what he’s packing? If the guy has big hands, then you know. Or big feet. Or in this case...”
“Big ears, big cock?” I catch on.
Dom’s the one who inserts, “Isn’t it kind of early for dick jokes?”
But I find the dude’s question hilarious. “What? Is there a prescribed time for dick jokes? Please enlighten me.”
Dom grumbles through the hand currently scrubbing down his eyes, nose, and bristly chin. “Chrissakes.”
Jerome deliberately glances from Dom to Sadie’s plate of edible smiley face before scrutinizing me. Maybe three beats pass, then like a motor revving up, he starts laughing. It’s the silent kind that has all the indications of levity without any of the noise until he inhales and bursts out with a higher-pitched roar of humor than I would’ve thought him capable of.
That gets me going, too, and even Dom’s moody-ass beard edges up on one side. Jerome and I are riddled with chuckles and guffaws as Dom shuts his eyes and shakes his head at us. Yet Sadie’s the one I’m invested in, and the only one not making a single sound.
Instead, she’s scanning the contents of her plate as if calculating the equations necessary for interstellar travel. Then, she lasers straight in on me, those dove-gray eyes unwavering. She picks up one of the cinnamon rolls, tears off a side section with plenty of icing, and tosses it in her mouth. Her lids flutter closed as she munches on the treat and releases an audible moan.
The three of us men are struck mute watching her. Transfixed by her. Sadie swallows, seizes the innermost remains of the coil, and proceeds to devour it. And it’s subtle, almost unnoticeable, but where her face had seemed almost feverish a moment ago, now it’s lit from within.
“I never understood the need for comparison myself,” she murmurs, us hanging on to every word. “Size doesn’t matter near as much as the ability to use what you have. You can’t control the size of your parts, but you can control the pleasure you deliver.” She pauses to look each of us in the eye. “If you’re talented enough..”
It’s a challenge, clear and simple.
There’s not so much as the hint of a smirk or grin, yet her cheeks—both scarred and unscarred—have risen by a degree or two. Her eyes are merry. Glittering. Dancing, even. It transforms an already beautiful woman into an absolute stunner.
A woman who can mesmerize any man she meets.
And there’s nothing I wouldn’t consider attempting, whether my dick is involved or not, to keep her looking that way.
SIX: Imaginary Hands
SADIE
When I at last dropped off into slumber last night, I had a dream. It’s a recurrent one I’ve had numerous times, and although I never gave it much credence before this morning, the events at breakfast brought it to the forefront of my mind.