Origin of an Ethical Bull

The sound of the garage door opening startled me. I knew she was home. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. It was deafening. I heard two car doors close. She wasn't alone.

She yelled for me from the main house at the top of her lungs. "Connor! We're home, come help us unload the car. Get your cutie booty over here. My mom got you treats but you have to help us out first."

Mal's mom was from an upper-class family in Andalusia (Spain) and had been widowed a few years prior. Her mom took every chance she could to dote on me. She always wanted a son, and she loved that I made her daughter happy. It helped that I was fluent in Spanish, and that I understood the cultural protocols. I ran into the main house and went straight into the boiling hot garage. Mal and her mom had filled the car with tons of things from their shopping spree. It took several minutes to quickly unload in 95°F heat at near 100% humidity. It was the deep South. You could cut the hot air with a knife and eat it with a fork. When I was finished, I was drenched in sweat.

"!Pobrecito está sudado!" her mom exclaimed. (Translation: Poor baby is all sweaty)

"You're right mama, he is all grimy, smelly, and sweaty."

Her mom scolded her for saying I was "smelly and grimy". And something along the lines of you need to be nice, he's sensitive. Her mom came over and smiled. "Thank you for your help. We'll wash your clothes while you shower. I brought you "Mil Hojas" (a thousand leaves or layers) pastries, I know they are your favorite. You can have them once you finish getting cleaned up."

Her mom hugged me so that only our shoulders touched and gave me the faux air kiss on the cheek like every Spaniard does. "I'm heading back to my house. Before I go, I found a new brunch place I think you will love. Are you free Sunday?"

"Seguro que sí, Doña Isabella, sería un placer acompañarlos," I replied as I bowed my head slightly. (Translation: Assuredly, Lady Isabella, it would be a pleasure to accompany you all. In Spain, Doña is an honorific used instead of Señora to convey a deeper level of respect in Spanish.)

"Good, Mal will give you the brunch details, they have a 'make your own' Bloody Mary station!"

She grabbed her purse and headed out to her car calling back for her daughter to wash my clothes and to "play nice".

Mal just looked at me and said, "You know where the laundry room is. Go toss your stuff in the washing machine."

"Ah, but your mom said you were supposed to do it! And you know I won't lie to her if she asks me."

Mal sighed and then smirked, "Fine, get undressed and hand me your clothes. Right now. Chippy chop! We have 'stuff and things' to do."

I wasn't moving fast enough for her, the wet cotton clothes stuck to my body like Velcro. Mal came over and said to me "Arms up!" and pulled my shirt right off me. Then she undid my pants and pushed me onto the couch so she could pull them off. As she pulled me up to my feet, she stood about an inch from me, placed her hands on my waist, running her thumbs under the band of my underwear and slid them down with her face gliding an inch from my chest and genitals. She sat there squatting on the floor looking at my penis, her hot breath exhaling on my cock, and told me to step out of my undergarments. Mal then grabbed my buttocks and pulled herself up to a full standing position. Her breasts brushing my cock and chest on her way up through her thin linen blouse.

Full disclosure, Mal and Calvin have seen me naked before. Nudity wasn't a big deal for either of them. Mal had walked in on me changing more than once. Usually, she couldn't resist saying something snarky like "Oh my Gawd, I'm gonna go blind! You are so pale!" or "Great, now my retinas are scarred from the glare Casper!". This time, she just smiled. No jabs or teasing. "In the shower stinky! I will wash these for you, but I'm throwing out these boxers."

As I went off to the shower, Mal gave me a wolf whistle.

The shower was so needed at that point. I was already self-conscious about smelling or looking right. As the water ran over me, my anxiety was fully flowing. I told myself aloud over and over "It's going to be alright; you aren't going to mess this up."

As I shut off the shower, I turned around and saw Mal standing against the wall. She handed me a bath sheet that had been recently taken out of the dryer. She pointed to the sitting bench by the make-up mirror. "Mom and I got those for you. Try them on. We have your size down; my mom can size up a man in a glance."

I looked down at the metallic blue silk boxers. I slipped them on. They were the most luxurious underwear I had ever worn. "Your mom picked out underwear for me? Like... how did THAT come up?", I asked, as I walked into the living room.

"She saw your ratty boxers in the laundry room last weekend and thought they were my husband's. She told me she was going to throw them out and I mentioned that they were yours. She wanted to do something nice for you. She knows you are finding it hard to feel attractive and desirable. I tell my mom everything, we don't have secrets between us. Be sure to write her a thank you card. You know she'll be expecting one."

They fit perfectly and we walked into the living room. Mal took my hand and pulled me down onto the couch.

"Connor you aren't going to mess things up, unless you aren't honest with me. I need to know how you really feel about me. Are you in love with me? Do you want to be more than just friends with me?"

This is where I learned a concept that has served me well throughout my life. "Never punish for the truth".

Mal continued, "Connor, I won't punish you for the truth. If you lie to me, there is no forgiveness. You need to be honest with yourself and with me. Be transparent. Tell me how you really feel."

She stared at me quietly waiting for my reply. Secretly enjoying watching me squirm.

"Well, I do have a question? How would this work? I mean are we just friends with benefits? What are the boundaries and limits? Are there conditions?"

"Mal, I need to know if you are serious. Like I want this to be true and if this is one of your pranks, it would be horrible. I'm..." and Mal cut me off.

"Nope! Start again!" she commanded.

"Tell me how you feel about me", she said sternly.

My heart raced. My face felt like I had a sunburn from the flushing. She was going to have this interaction on her own terms, and if it humbled me all the better. I had passed on many life-changing opportunities out of fear or worry. It was time to confess, either way I would lose everything if I left anything unsaid.

I took her hands in mine and spoke softly, "I've loved you forever. I knew you were married, and it didn't stop me from wanting to be with you. I assumed that we'd be only platonic, and it didn't matter to me. I'm here. I don't care how I get to be with you Mal, just that we get to be together. Mal, I want you in any way you'll have me. I do want to be more than just friends; I want you to be my girlfriend."

"I already am, we just need to make it official. Calvin has given his unconditional blessing for our pairing. Now that we know that we both want this, let's talk about expectations, boundaries, and how it will all work at the dining room table. I want some of that ceviche I had made for which you failed to thank me properly."

Next Chapter: Courting Mallory