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GRAPEFRUIT PERFUME BICYCLE BIRTHMARK - boymeetsgirlstory - fiction story by Hugh Cook

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Grapefruit Perfume Bicycle Birthmark

        They met at the gym, Maxie Bratatango and the Princess Jestalbara Lantanariva.
        "Nice tattoo," said Maxie, on the second date.
        The princess blushed.
        "It's not a tattoo," she said. "It's a birthmark."
        "A birthmark?" said Maxie. "From what I can see, it looks like a really great tattoo. I'd like to see the rest of it."
        "Well, that would be, um ...."
        She was blushing again, lost for words, unable to acknowledge the area of privacy they were now discussing.
        "What if I married you?" he said.
        "Why would you want to do that?" she said.
        "I've always had this fantasy," he said. "Grapefruit perfume, bicycle tattoo."
        "But it's not a tattoo, I keep telling you," she said, angry, as if the tattoo-birthmark mixup was the cause of her anger.
        "Just joking," he said hastily, trying to repair the damage. "The thing is, I really love you."
        "Not on a first date," she said, getting to her feet, so angry that she had forgotten that this was not a first date but a second.
        However, six months later, they were married.
        And, once they were married, he was careful to take things by easy stages. The exercise bicycles did not show up until six weeks into their rapture.
        "Exercise bikes?" she said, eyeing them suspiciously. "Are you telling me I'm fat?"
        "Cardiovascular efficiency," he said, briskly, skating past the weight issue.
        The fact was that she was, yes, just a tad plumper than his optimum. But everything else was perfect. After twenty minutes on the exercise bike, she was just as he had imagined: lush, tropical with sweat, pungent with the aroma of grapefruit.
        A pity that the bicycle was just a birthmark, not the tattoo of his imagination. But that could be remedied, surely. After all, people with time on their hands disfigured themselves with jailhouse tattoos.
        But could you tattoo over a birthmark? He didn't know. He hadn't done the research. Part of the excitement was going to be in finding out. The needles and inks were already on order. He'd have them within a week.
        And Maxie Bratatango smiled, happy that, in a world of treacheries and dissatisfied passions, his personal story of newlywed bliss was heading for a happy ending.

The End

This war veteran fiction story, "Grapefruit Perfume Bicycle Birthmark," was first published when posted online by Hugh Cook 2004 June 27 Sunday. Copyright © 2004 Hugh Cook. All rights reserved.

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honeymoon horror story

        "The honeymoon suite," said the clerk brightly, handing over the keys.
        "Thank you," said Benven.
        On the way to the room, Lasella followed him. This didn't feel right. In her imagination, they had walked hand in hand, smiling. But, for some reason, after barely six hours of married life, she had gotten into the habit of following him.


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