Work Out Walk About

We pull into the diner and I think I'm going to be okay. For some reason, it's Louise and her driving that does it to me. When I do it, I can power through. When Saoirse does it, I'm more or less fine. Don't know about Troy, but we'll find out eventually. Kind of surprised that particular arrangement hasn't lined up yet. It will. Probably. Maybe. We're at a diner now, with the early morning sun greeting us and Saoirse's leading the way.

Her idea, the diner, the car ride, the long hike afterwards. Too many days inside, too many days looking at a screen, not enough sunlight and fresh air. You can never have too many of those, even if the sun would turn poor Saoirse crispy red. As it stands, it mostly just brings out a wonderfully abstract smattering of freckles across her chest. And her neck, and her cheeks. But mostly her chest, from what I've seen.

Like a gentleman, she gets the first door for me, but then I get to play that part on the next one. I'm just glad there's not a third, because I have no idea what we would do. I assume that we would just stand and paw at the door like lost puppies until some kind soul took us in. Saoirse puts our name in and we have about a 10-minute wait. I don't know why. Half the tables are empty. But then I see a single waiter and it all makes sense. I have time. She has time. We both have a whole day to ourselves. She sits next to me and yawns. It was also her idea to get up this early and go to breakfast. I like the fact that she puts her head on my shoulder and wants to be asleep. I could go either way really. I put my arm around her and she leans in a bit more.

"Do you ever get tired of sharing a bed with all of us?" she asks through another small yawn.

I consider the question for all of an instant.

"Nope," I say, "never. It's amazing. I turn over and there's you. I turn over again and there's Troy. Louise is using my boobs as a pillow and it's great."

She laughs softly.

"I don't know why I even asked. Of course, you'd be into it."

"Do you not like it?"

The concern is real now. Saoirse is unhappy and it is my duty to take the world and crack it open for making her as such. And if I'm making her unhappy, then I have to do whatever it takes to change myself. Our name is called and she uses me as scaffolding to rise. She's still sleepy. She doesn't even wait to sit down before asking for a cup of coffee.

"Sort of. Maybe," she says, "Not really. Most of the time, it is pretty damn good. Troy and Louise just got me up when they left today, and then I scooch and there you're poking me in the best way. So, I just got up like half an hour earlier than I wanted and got kind of riled up."

I make a good plan. We forget the hike, stay for breakfast, but run home and I tuck her into bed. I stand vigil at the door and plant Mr. Fangy inside for interior security. No one gets in and no one gets out. Saoirse will like my plan when I tell her about it.

"Stop," she says, "it's fine. It's more than fine. It's the terrible price I have to pay for sharing a bed with three other people who I both like and love. And who both like and love me back. I'm just thinking we get a twin or something in a spare room for escape plans. Think of it like a backup bed in case the first one decides to not be good."

I nod. It's a good idea. Backups are always a good idea. Saoirse already has a backup coffee in case the first one decides to not be good. From the way it's gone, I think it was alright. By the time I actually get to mine, I find that it's pretty good. Diner coffee is good. Not up to the standards of her steampunk contraptions, but certainly more accessible. I want bacon and pancakes. I will tell the nice waiter that I would like bacon and pancakes. Saoirse would also like that, but with some hashbrowns as well. We settle on a stack of pancakes, for the table. And we each get our own second breakfast along with the shared. It's a good plan and I'm happy to be a part of it.

"I just like being close to people," I say, somewhat to my drink. Mostly to Saoirse.

"I had no idea," says Saoirse with a quirk of her eyebrows, "The fact that you won't leave the house without a five-minute hug with all of us always confused me."

"It's also kind of why I like the whole fighting thing."

She gives me an odd look and I don't know what to do with it. It doesn't want to stay in my pocket.

"I can see that," she says, "like, I've never been a fight, but it's gotta be intense, right?"

I shrug.

"I mean, I've never been in a ring ring. Never had entrance music or a ringside coach. I just spar and hit a bag. But I like sparring. And no one ever does it with me."

"I wonder why. I remember when Troy told me about that club thing with Louise. Smart of that guy to back down. Probably not fun, but smart."

She takes another long sip of her coffee and I watch it run down her veins. The lethargy slowly burns away with the jittery nerves and it's fading fast. She's looking back to the kitchen. She wants her food and I want my food and everyone wants their food. The elderly couple is also waiting for theirs. The cooks are working as fast as they can, and we'll be as patient as we need to be. Troy says there's an art to pancakes and I trust him. I've gotten better at eggs, but those are still beyond me.

"Did you ever think about getting into actually fights?" she asks, "Maybe not full pro, but weekend warrior, amateur circuit, welterweight thing. I don't know how those things work. Is it the welterweights that are the amateurs?"

"No," I say, "it's a weight class. Not sure exactly where I'm at, but probably beneath heavyweight. And a scout from the WVBA did go through RTL's at some point and tried to talk to Rob. Never panned out, from what I caught."

She sighs.

"You'd look really good in those shorts," she says.

I don't disagree. I would. I've been told I look good in almost everything.

"What does this Rob even do?" she asks, "You talk about him a lot. Troy's mentioned him and Louise thinks he doesn't even exist."

"He does a lot. He owns the gym. He owns a club. I think he owns a couple restaurants too. Guy's stretched thinner than aluminum foil. And he gave me the job at Taskmaster's when I first moved here. And now I think he's trying to franchise that because for some reason he needs even more businesses to run."

She tilts her head and considers all the new information from what she might think is a ghost. It's neat. That's all it is. She is down another cup of coffee. That's terrible.

Our food finally comes around and we are both very excited. Saoirse takes more than her fair share of the pancakes, but I'm not keeping the best tally. I think I took some of her hashbrowns. It's all a big blur. All I know is that we both have clean plates and full bellies and that's a good enough reason to stop eating. I could go for another set of eggs, with sausage this time. So many options. I've never had biscuits and gravy, now that I think about. But the check comes and that means we can't get anymore food. I lose the coin flip and that means Saoirse is in charge of the bill. I get the tip at least. And the door. I'm something like a gentleman by some definitions, so I should probably do that.

The logistics don't work out. A mom and a son walk through. The son is well on his way to being a true gentleman, letting us all through with a polite smile. Then it turns to a double take and I am remined that he is a teenage boy and I both am and am with a woman with large boobs. I understand. We all understand.

"Cinnamon?" he asks. Saoirse goes stone cold white and I get to watch the mask go up like brick wall.

It's honestly kind of interesting to watch the new back and forth emerge. She's polite and smiling and says I'm a friend. To his credit, the boy doesn't really go to her chest. He gets a nice handshake and another smile and an incredulous look on his face. The mom is also smiling but I'm not sure she understands what's happening. To be fair, I'm don't either. The mask comes down when we're in the car and I let the silence ask the question for me.

"So, we can never go there again," she says, "cause that kid recognized me from my streams."

"What's 'cinnamon,' though?" I ask. That was the more pertinent question in my mind.

"The handle. Troy knows about it, cause he watches sometimes when he's bored at work. And it's spelled with an 's.' Like, 'Sinamon.' Don't judge me, I thought it up when I was a teenager and now it's my life."

She sighs and pulls back out onto the highway. The mask is down and she is tired and we are all hurtling over asphalt and concrete. We have trees lining the road now.

"The internet's so fucking weird," she says, "It's just so fucking weird. Like, people have drawn pictures of me. And not even porn. Just me hanging out with coffee. I told them about the lake. Not the whole thing, just that I went to a lake house. And now I have a lake house splash screen someone just made for me. And I don't understand any of it."

She sighs again and nothing's broken. Tired, sure, but thrilled. Bewildered that something she put out in the world had spiraled into something bigger. She doesn't have full control of it. No one does. I certainly don't. It's a machine now, like the car. She can let off the gas, but it would roll and roll and roll along for a good long while. And we still have a good long while until we can stop thinking about that.

---

Saoirse's getting huffy and puffy. I'm just getting huffy. A lot of hill work and now my legs are hurting. I slow down, just a little bit. Saoirse now passes me and I get to watch her walk in front of me. She's decided that our little hike needs tight pants to keep her warm and anything I can see from that is just a bonus. Her chest is hidden behind a puffy vest, so I'll take my stimulation where I can get it.

Her summer freckles are starting to fade. Fall has taken them from me, and by the time winter rolls around, her snowfield camouflage will have come in. But for now, she still blends in with the falling leaves. I almost bump into her when she stops. I do collide with her, but affectionately. She leans back into me and we take in the view.

This was a good idea. I like this idea. We're staring down a ravine of sunset orange leaves in a late morning sun. I hear a river flow and move somewhere off to my left and I think that's the next step we take. Get some pictures, post them into the clouds so the internet strangers put little hearts next to them, text them back so everyone is jealous they're stuck with offices and cubicles. Then they get to come up with some excuse about how they should leave work early and come meet up somewhere not quite as nice as here, but still pretty nice. Maybe a duck pond or something.

I am wrong. The stream is not our next stop. We take a fallen tree for a bench and just watch the world stay still.

"I need to do more cardio," Saoirse sighs, "Does RTL's do HIIT or something? Maybe a spin class? Yoga?"

"Yoga's not cardio though," I say, "Is it? Wait. I don't actually know. I don't think I've ever done yoga."

"It's not sitting in a chair looking at a screen. That's all I really need. Although, I could do with more of it."

"And that's why we came out here?"

"Kind of. Sort of. Yeah, pretty much."

She sighs and stretches and something in her back gives from the way she sighs and groans. She settles for a moment and then falls on me, head to shoulder again and simply resting.

"I forgot how quiet it can be out here," she murmurs. I hum in agreement.

I missed the trees. It was nice to see them on the lake. It was nice to see them at my parents' house. It is nice to see them growing through their little concrete cages on the sidewalk back home. Saoirse takes out her phone and takes another picture, of us this time, before settling back into the moment. I smell the fresh earth and the clean air, listen to the bird calls and running water. I am at peace as Saoirse presses into me, hand on my leg as I put an arm around her. I can still smell her shampoo clinging to her red hair as it mixes in with the earth and the trees.

"I'm thinking of moving," she says, eyes half closed.

I hold her tighter until my knuckles turn white. She can't run away if I hold her tight. She laughs tiredly and gently taps the back of my hand. I slowly let go, but I make sure that every escape is cut off.

"That's adorable," she says, "You're adorable. Kiss me."

She turns and darts up before I can quite put all the pieces together. Her lips are a little chapped but they're still soft and wonderful and warm and they are gone way too soon. They can stay forever, but they're gone and she's smiling and teasing and now I have to shift in my seat a little. Just a touch and something in me wants to go and play and take her down.

"Not right now," she says, "Let me finish the whole moving thought."

"Am I really that easy to read?" I ask. I'm still holding onto her tight. The kiss could have been a distraction to run away.

"Oh, absolutely. If it's not sex, its food. If it's not food, then you're asleep. And if you're not asleep, you're hugging one of us and trying to get us to play with you."

She kisses my cheek again.

"It's so simple with you," she says, "and I mean that in a really, really good way. The internet never got over high school gossip and that's just exhausting to deal with. Apparently, some jackass keeps trying to debate me, but I have him blocked so it never gets through."

"Do I need to hit him?"

"No. Well, yes, but that involves us actually engaging with him and that's its whole other level of bullshit. Back to house. Back to moving."

That simple suggestion makes me pull her closer and I need her on my lap, caged away from all the meanness of the world. She just laughs at me again before getting serious.

"So," says Saoirse, "I've talked a bit with Troy about this, and it was always kind of my plan. Move out, get a mortgage on a place I could flip once the market was a little crazier, and find somewhere else. You all just kind of shuffled the timetables."

I cock my head. I think I understand, but I need it laid out for me.

"I want us to actually get a house together. Like all of us. From day one. Technically, I think it breaks the mortgage to have three other people living there who aren't on the paperwork, even if you do contribute, so we just duck out of that before anyone notices. And we all coborrow. With four incomes, we could probably do really well for ourselves. Kind of sad that it takes four of us to actually put together a new down payment, but the world is kind of sad like that."

"I'd like that," I say, "I'd like that a lot."

"Now, granted, I've done zero looking and I need Troy to double check my math, but I think we could honestly get someplace real nice."

"I want a big yard."

"So, you can get your exercise? Sure. But you have to mow it and rake it."

"Can we get a dog too once we get the new place?"

"Sure. But you'll have to feed it and walk it and pick up after it."

"Can we get a sex room?"

"I think all the rooms we have are going to be a sex room to some extent. But we'll make sure everywhere has a thing to be bent over, just for you."

I kiss her cheek because she has promised me everything I've ever wanted. Maybe a pool, but I think the liability kind of outweighs the good. Only really good for like 5 months a year if that, and we have to get a pool boy on payroll to care for it. Although, pool boys could fit rather nicely into our little fold as a fun treat to play with. And bored housewives next door with inattentive husbands. HOAs and PTAs with uptight fuddy-duddies that have forgotten how to let go. Sad widowers and widows in need of some youthful exuberance to remind them of the sweetness of life. I like the fanciful narratives I spin for us. They're dumb and stupid and now one of us gets to pretend to be a plumber. I like this. I like all of this.

"You're thinking about some dumb shit, aren't you?" Saoirse says.

"Probably. I like this idea. And, I don't know, I really like that you're telling me all this and that you want to keep me around."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again. You've ruined me. In a lot of ways. In a lot of really, really good ways."

She sighs contently and interlocks my hands in hers and squeezes tightly.

"The sex?" I ask.

"No. Of course not. The sex has been terrible."

She can't keep it together. She's laughing at herself and her stupidity and the words from her mouth.

"Yes, the sex. But also, the weight you bring. When you and Louise were off visiting your parents, neither Troy or me slept that well. And not because of what you think. I've gotten used to you. I like it when you're around, even if I can't see you. And in the grand scheme of making my life as comfortable as possible, you're a big, big factor in that. So, I can't sleep in a bed without you. I get a lot more relaxed when you're in the same room. And yes, you can rail me into the dirt like a goddamn machine."

I don't like being a machine, but I do appreciate the thought.

"I like you too," I say.

"Gee thanks. Now put a bit more effort."

"Thank you for being so different than me. Thank you for being so willing to try and experience things. I remember how you looked the first time we went to the Bullet Club and Papa Jams, you looked so nervous. Even the lake house was something that I never thought about. Even this hike. I had no idea we were so close to anything like this. Thank you for being curious and sarcastic and getting me out from work and the gym."

Her head his back on my shoulder and she takes my hand up until I land on her chest. Through the vest and the sweater, her breasts are heavy and soft and engulfing.

"And these?" she asks, a low rumble creeping into her voice.

"Yes. Yes those very much. Please take them out and let me play with them. Or at least let me see them. You've been teasing me all day with that.'

"I have not. You just know what you like. And that you like me and my body. And I like you and your body."

"Is there anything else that we need to like?"

"Troy and Louise, but between us, not really."

I squeeze her breast a bit harder and she sighs at the sensation. I also know that she likes the part where I take my lips and bite a bit. She likes a bit of pain and resistance to everything we do. She still hasn't managed to muster that wonderful burst of power from our first time, but I can't wait for the day I see it again. Maybe I'll get deadlifted over her head and tossed onto a pile of roses. Or maybe I'll just be shoved up against a wall. Or a tree. There's a good selection of those around and a complete lack of other people who would obviously get jealous and want to join in. She squeezes my thigh. It's the wrong one, but I appreciate it. She knows what she's doing to me and now she is pulling away. I let her go because I am not a complete monster. She has promised to stay around and do things with me, so I can let her go on a short leash. Not until we're back on the road and she's trapped completely.

I get up and shuffle and shy away from all the shape my body makes. I have to move and clothes get in the way. The wind shakes the trees and the trees keep dropping the leaves like bullets. Saoirse's recovered now, light on her feet, quick, some might even call her nimble. I would call her graceful and fae-like, but she is also bouncing along the trail. We're still the only ones here, lost in the world of slowly falling leaves.

We come to the source of that wonderful babbling. It's a stream, rushing by and carrying so many of those spent casings down river and into the valley. Some of them get caught on logs and rocks, only for the stream to shift and change and keep going down. All in file. All in line. Saoirse takes another picture and it's off to who knows where. I hope whoever gets it, enjoys the scenery. She turns her phone to us again and sends it off to the same place. I hope the internet likes it. Troy and Louise like seeing pictures of me in various states of undress. Saoirse likes them too. And I like receiving them in turn. We'll probably get nothing back for a good long while. The trees do not like Wi-Fi or 5G. I doubt they appreciate any number of G's.