Daily Archives: January 19, 2018

My Honey by Brandon Scott

“You’re not doing honey, are you?”

Gee’s gaze snapped up from the jar of honey she had on the counter, her finger still deep into the sticky substance. She briefly checked to see if her wife was within visible range, and when it turned out she wasn’t, Gee cast off the words, “No, not at all,” down the hallway.

“Good, because I was going to use that for something else. I know you wanted to try that new skin thing, but you’ll like the special diet cookies I’m going to make much more.”

Gee rolled her eyes as she much doubted that. Diet meant disgusting as far as she was concerned.

“Yeah, no worries.”

With a slurping noise, she dragged out a glob from the jar and held it pooled in her hand. The sticky gunk leaked down the side of her hand in little rivets, getting all over the counter as well.

“So, what do you want to do for dinner?” came her wife’s voice again, and this time closer, moving down the hallway. Gee’s eyes darted toward the bathroom, and she sprinted into it, closing the door and locking it with her un-honeyed hand—though still leaving some sticky residue on the floor both inside and outside the door.

“No idea,” Gee said and waited for the sound she dreaded.

It took a minute, with a nice preamble of silence, but came all the same.

“What’s up? Are you okay—” A quick suck in of breath, and a pin could drop and make a sound, and then: “Gee! Goddamn it! You little liar!”

Gee backed up as hands slammed on the door a few times.

“Come on, you promised!”

Gee’s breath came out slow for a moment, before she calmed down—the mundanity of this fight making it seem almost silly to find it a concern. With another pound on the door acting as a starting pistol to her, she moved the honey over her face, especially in the bags under her eyes.

“Are you hearing me?” came the slightly annoyed voice. Her wife too was sensible and would not make too much of a fuss about this, not really—beyond some glimmer of annoyance.

“Yes, yes, I am—and don’t get so mad. I’m doing this for you. You’re the one who gets to enjoy all the soft skin on my face.”

“Is that so?” came a voice with a slight flirtatious edge, but lost it within a syllable of the next sentence. “Still, you promised me. And how am I going to make those cookies now if you keep using up all my random food stuff as beauty products?”

“White sugar?” Gee said. “It’s not like I can spread that over my face.”

“I’m trying to lose weight,” she said, the sound now making it clear she was sitting against the other side of the door.

“Then you should not have cookies anyway,” Gee said and spread the honey over her neck, dabbing it into the small indents between shoulder bone and neck, around the collar. It felt cold there.

“I guess.” A slight scratching of nails against the door. “So… what should we do for dinner?”

Gee opened the door, and her wife stood up with a little glimmer of annoyance still in her eyes, but it melted when a chuckle escaped her throat.

“What?” Gee said, smiling at her.

“You look all glossy. What was that supposed to help with?”

“Pores…or something—they said it was a miracle cure.”

Her wife giggled into her hand and then continued to do so for another minute with a much stronger force to it. A few tears came to her eyes from her laughter.

“Okay, okay—so it’s a little silly, but mark my words: it will pay off.”

“Sure…sure it will.” Her wife composed herself and smirked at her. “So, what do you want to do for dinner now? If you’re not full up on honey.”

Funny,” Gee said, and touched the edge of her face, leaving a faint trail of sticky gold going to her finger. “I think we are going to have to get someone to bring us something—takeout I guess.”

“Don’t feel like going out with honey, honey?” her wife quipped and shook her head, still smiling.

“No, it would be unbecoming for two girls to go out on the town covered in honey.”

Her wife took a second to get that one, and only pulled back once a sticky hand touched her face, and left a little layer of sugar on it.

“Dammit…that will take forever to get out. I’ll have to scrub.”

“Well, I think you’re glowing—but if you must scrub it all off, then I think it will take about the time it would take to get a pizza,” Gee said, maneuvering passed her, going back to the kitchen, and checking a takeout menu.

“I’m on a diet, remember?” her wife said, walking in after her.

“Well, consider the lost cookies: now you have one cheat open,” Gee said, and dialed the number.

“You’re evil,” her wife said.

The dial tone still rang, so Gee shot in: “Yeah, but you love me so much.”

Her wife wrapped her arms around her, giving a hug from behind, and gave a squeeze, before just leaning somewhat on her, and listening to the dial tone go along.

“Yeah, I really do, crazy girl.”

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