How To Tame Beasts And Other Wild Things

by A. Wilding Wells

  “Are you sure?” I clear my throat. How is this going to go down? She’s mortified, and I’m terrified I’ll shift the fabric aside and want to fuck her right here. Put my own stinger inside her and go to town. “I can take you to the ER?” I blurt out in reminder. Not that I’d mind a kitchen table fuck.

  “It’s fine. You’ve seen vaginas, and yes… That’s what I have. Surprise, surprise.” We both grin.

  “Okay, I’ll do my best. I’m sorry you’re mortified, you don’t need to be. Take a breath and, I promise I’ll only look where necessary.”

  “Liar. I know this isn’t exactly foreplay for you.” She laughs nervously. “Or me for that matter.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. Kidding, I’m kidding. Sorry.” Then a brilliant thought pops into my head. “I have an idea.” I snatch a lollipop from the candy jar and hand it to Matilda. “Suck this while I go hunting for that little pecker.” She laughs. “The kids’ pediatrician gave me that pointer, sugar distracts from pain,” I proudly state.

  “This is getting better by the minute. Hi, I’m Lucille Ball. Nice to meet you.” We shake hands. She opens the sucker, pops it in her mouth, and I put on my doctor hat.

  “Just suck it and breathe through your nose.”

  “Are you hearing yourself?” She giggles.

  Our eyes meet in a heated gaze. I need to get down to business, her sucking noises are not helping. I slide the fabric of her skirt aside. I remind myself to breathe, since I’m encroaching on sacred territory. I’ve imagined a scenario where I might be doing this, but it was obviously different. I wouldn’t just be pulling something out, I’d be slamming something in. And out. And in.

  Red swelling rides the crease of her inner thigh, I slide the fabric farther and expose her more. As I move my face closer, I see it. The tiny black stinger, next to her virtually, swollen closed, velvety soft, and remarkably saturated slit. Holy re-virginized. I am frozen. She’s bare, with a thin golden landing strip. Bare and beautiful and wet. And fuck if I’m not hard as steel. I adjust myself, then stand to see Matilda’s glossy lips making love to the lollipop. Her face is fever flushed. “I found it, and I need to touch you rather intimately to get it. Is that okay?”

  “This is unreal!” She throws her forearm over her eyes. “Yes, do what you have to. I have nothing to hide from you now. I can’t believe this.” She snorts.

  I squeeze her thigh and she jumps. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll be done in a sec. I just don’t want to hurt you with the tweezers, so hold really still once you feel me touch you. And just so you know, it’s at your…”

  “Excellent. The horniest bee found me! Well, just enjoy yourself while you’re down there.” She groans. “Sorry, I need to find humor in this.”

  Digging my fingers into my thigh, my heart drums against my ribs. “Whatever you need to do.”

  I kneel and touch her wet labia. The second I do, she takes in a sharp breath. My spine stiffens even more, along with my cock, which wants to burst. I’m touching her soaked vagina. “Fuck me,” I mouth in silence. Seconds later I capture the tip of the stinger, and pull it out.

  “Got it!” I jump up as though I caught a prize bass from the lake. Matilda sits up and holds out her palm with wide eyes.

  “Sonofabitch! That’s huge!” She squeals and fist bumps the air. She squirms and shifts her dress over her barely covered crotch, then wraps her arms around me. I want more than anything to kiss her. But after studying her vagina in the most absurd way, I stop myself. I stop the insane craving of my primal attraction. I ignore my nerves and my heart and the deep sexual hunger that’s been clawing at my resolve. I’m not sure what the hell else to do. I can’t take advantage of this situation, and I can’t forget why she’s here to begin with. I’m a dick for dancing on and occasionally crossing the line already. So, like a Neanderthal, I take one huge step back, then stride over to the sink and wash my hands. I want to turn around and say I want you, but I can’t risk the ruin again. Can’t risk my heart or my future on this farm because of a few days of lust and one sexy fucking chick.

  “Thanks,” I hear over my shoulder in a weak cracked voice.

  “No problem,” I answer, focusing on my hands. It’s better this way. Better if I don’t look over my shoulder to see what’s in her eyes. Better I don’t tell her how beautiful and soft and inviting she looked. Better I didn’t press my face between her legs and taste her. Yes, it’s better. Though is it really what I want? Not a fucking chance.

  9

  Balthazar

  Alive without breath,

  As cold as death,

  Clad in mail never clinking,

  Never thirsty, ever drinking

  A fish

  The boys run ahead of me and Matilda as we stroll out to gather eggs, and see the coop, which she claims to have freshened up. We’ll see what that means; my guess is we’re not talking a new roof.

  Over the last few weeks, she’s had us all eating dinner together at the kitchen table. She’s silly, sweet, clumsy, and charming. All of that and more. Too much to attach a handful of words to. She’s also beautiful inside and out. I often wonder what she’d be like to hold. What she’d be like to kiss. I never do act on my impulses. Can’t. Won’t. But including her today? That I can do.

  “I’ve invited Duke and Alfie to join me and the boys for some fishing today out on the pontoon boat. We can have a boil later tonight if we catch enough. You care to come?”

  Her face lights up. “I’m being invited?”

  Her question makes me feel like a heel. Sort of like the popular kids have at last included her at their lunch table. The only reason I haven’t asked her to join before is to avoid my growing feelings for her. But what’s a little ride around the lake going to hurt? I’m not going to lose the farm over that.

  “Isn’t that what I just said?” I stand outside the coop, looking in.”

  “I’d love to join you guys! I guess I’m just surprised,” she says, kneeling in front of the hen.

  “Not as surprised as I am right now.” Walking through the rickety door behind her and the boys, I run smack-dab into a chandelier then glance around at the walls, which are decorated with paintings and other whatnots. “Who hangs a chandelier in a chicken coop? Do chickens care?”

  “One, two, three, four.” Ignoring me, she counts eggs with Jinx and Jax.

  I exit the coop mumbling about the fact that my farm is getting “decorated” as a small, red dump truck moseys up our driveway. The boys spot it as well and scream while running toward it.

  “Dumb Fuck! Dumb Fuck!” they shriek.

  Matilda and I crack up. I need to start writing these things down. They might be good in one of my plays. A quirky farm story…an improbable couple… Yeah, improbable is right. Then again?

  Stopping in front of me, Matilda blocks my way and places one hand on my chest. “Um, so, I guess you should know I got a ram.” She cringes then laughs.

  I smirk and walk around her to watch the boys. “I don’t think we need a dump truck, muffin. The tractor’s plenty.”

  “No, a ram!”

  “Yeah, I see that. Ram. Don’t need one.”

  “Balthazar!” she yells.

  I turn back to look at her sober stare. Slowly, the edge of her lips curl up. “I’m talking about sheep, you clod! A ram—the animal. Not a Ram dump truck! God, you’re such a guy!”

  “A ram?” I scratch my head. “The hell do we need one of those for?”

  “It’s a pet,” she hollers, storming past me. Her awkward march turns into a skip. “He was dropped off at the animal shelter the other day. Tully mentioned him to me.” She spins around, landing on her knees.

  On her knees. God help me.

  Jumping up, she brushes herself off and bites her lip as a blush sweeps into her cheeks. “The boys can ride him…mutton bustin’!”

  I shake my head and laugh. There is no other response for her. “Ride it?” I jog to catch up with her. “We need a ram like we need a bu
ll with tits, woman.”

  As the story goes, we now have a ram named Dumb Fuck, as the boys call him. Quite a menagerie we’re growing. We’re?

  An hour later, Matilda is crouched on the ground, trying to catch a jumping frog as I walk out to the porch with a pitcher of lemonade and a stack of cups. The boys take the frog into the kiddie pool as we sit on the steps together while she scrubs the portly, white ram’s back and sides. He sure seems to be enjoying himself—maybe a little more than she realizes, as he grunts and groans with his erection in full view. Does she not see it? Even the fucking ram is turned on by her. Go figure.

  Seconds later, out of the corner of my eye, I see the ram let loose and ejaculate.

  “Oh my god!” She gasps. “What is happening!” Matilda jumps up then gazes down at her chest. I laugh my ass off as semen drips down her face and across her torso. I wondered, when I saw his arousal, if he would. I guess rams and men aren’t so different after all.

  “You’re quite a charmer. Who can say they got their ram off?”

  “This is semen? He ejaculated on me?” she says, laughing as she wipes her hands across her skirt, more amused than flustered.

  “Looks like you’ve officially been pearl-necklaced. Get it? Matilda Pearl…got Pea—”

  “I got it,” she deadpans, smacking me in the arm.

  A truck rounds the top of the hill, kicking up a whirl of dust.

  “Yes, you did.” I jump up as the frog gets away from the boys. After catching it, I flip it back into the pool.

  Duke and Alfie walk along the flagstone path toward us. “You guys are early.” I nod.

  “And you guys are—whoa.” Alfie covers his smile with one hand as he fans himself with the other. “Are we interrupting something?”

  “Let’s just say Matilda and Dumb Fuck are gettin’ on just fine.”

  “You named him Dumb Fuck?” Duke cracks up, rubbing the ram’s back.

  I ease away from them, wondering how explosive the big guy is. “The boys named him.”

  “Ahh.” He grins. “Dump Truck. Yeah. Fritz was dumping a load of gravel at the shelter, so Tully and I figured since he was driving past your place he could bring him over.”

  “I’m going to go clean up before I get crusty.” Matilda chuckles as she heads up the stairs. “I’m joining you boys later on the boat.” She points to each of us.

  “So, what’s up, guys? Just in the neighborhood?” I pour cups of lemonade then hand them out.

  “We hit the library book sale this morning and added another thirty titles to your bookmobile. We’re not staying. We’ll be back around two for fishing.”

  “Thanks. We’d go out earlier, but I’ve got errands to run.” I turn my head when the screen door creaks open as Boner pushes it. “Two sounds about right.”

  “I have to ask,” Alfie says. He leans close to me. His eyes are filled with questions as he nods to the upstairs windows.

  “Alfie… Cool it. Nothin’ is going on,” I say before he gets going with an interview.

  He waves his fingers at me as he purses his lips. “That didn’t look like nothing, you two sitting on the porch… Looked like—”

  “Nothing,” I scold. How long am I going to keep this charade up? And why? I dig for something only to come up with, “We’re related. It’s too complicated.” All true. But I’m getting weaker by the day.

  “I smell bullshit. Related? Please. Lavinia is gone. It’s been over two years. You have a gorgeous woman living in your home. Does she not do anything for you?”

  Anything? Fuck yes. She does everything for me. That’s the problem. I want to kiss her like we’re inventing the idea. I want the sort of kiss that would be rude to do in front of others. I want a kiss that’ll find my heaven and kill my fucking demons. More than anything, I want that kiss to answer her prayers. I’m a walking contradiction.

  “Related. Right,” Alfie says.

  I gaze up to the just-slammed bedroom window. Matilda’s.

  10

  Matilda

  Inside me, the adventurous find

  Quests and treasures of every kind.

  Trolls, goblins, orcs, and more await

  Within my closed walls for

  All those that wish to visit me.

  Your hands are the key

  To secrets untold,

  And your mind will unlock the door.

  What am I?

  A Book

  Complicated. How many times is he going to use that word in relation to me? Obviously it’s so complicated that he walked out of the shower with a hard-on weeks ago without doing a darn thing. Then as days passed, we flirted and flirted some more. Then I got stung by that horny bee. He saw all of me, spread wide and vulnerable, and there’s been nothing since the stinger removal. Maybe he didn’t like what he saw. I can’t bear to bring it up. And, I’m not going to depress myself over the fact that I got a ram off today, but can’t get Balthazar’s lips anywhere near me. Now there’s a thought that could sink a girl’s confidence.

  He’s in town for errands, I hate to bother him, but since he’s been acting so nicely today, I suppose I can shoot him a text and ask him to stop at the drug store for a few things.

  Me: Could you pick up some tampons and C batteries please? Thnx.

  Balthazar: What for?

  Me: For my vagina. Duh!

  Balthazar: You put batteries up there?

  Me: Yeah…I enclose them in a wondrous, plastic baton that vibrates and brings me copious amounts of joy!

  Balthazar: No

  Me: Seriously? No dinner and nothing sweet!

  Balthazar: I don’t buy that crap

  Me: Tampons or batteries?

  Balthazar: I’ll get the batteries

  Me: But you won’t buy tampons? Too manly to buy them? Do you need my foot shoving your ass into this century? Christ how much testosterone is in you?

  Balthazar: How many times a week do you do it?

  Me: That’s none of your business perv!

  Balthazar: It’s a math question. I’m trying to figure out how fast you burn through those suckers. You want 4 or 24?

  Me: 8 and tampons. Pretty please, with something sweet on top!

  Balthazar: Bloody hell

  Me: Exactly and soon. That’s why I’m asking. Thank you, tough, burly man.

  It has to be rounding ninety degrees as I take the twins out to the lake for a little adventure before our fishing trip. We each have a bucket for collecting nature finds. As we stroll along the edge of the lake, we come across oodles of tiny turtle hatchlings. I scream at the sight, this is a nature jackpot! Needing some vet advice, I text Duke. He tells me that, while we should leave them alone, a day would be fine to keep some turtles in my bathtub.

  The three of us and our dozen turtles head back to the farmhouse, chattering as we toddle along. After scrounging through the kitchen for makeshift turtle islands our little creatures can rest on, we head upstairs. I dump my bucket of lake water into the bathtub once I’ve plugged the drain, the boys immediately unload their turtles. Each tiny creature gets named and gently touched by the twins’ tiny wandering fingers. I’m in love with the turtles, but the boys own my heart.

  After laying Jinx and Jax down for a nap, I decide to take a bath. Tiptoeing across the hall, I head toward Balthazar’s bathroom. As the tub fills, I notice a copy of Keats sitting on his marble countertop. Keats? My goodness. Does he read romantic poetry? I can’t help but smile, picturing him naked in the tub, a beer in one hand and Keats in the other. This is too good.

  I scurry downstairs and open a bottle of champagne. “Why ever not,” I mutter as I warily take the steps back up, one at a time.

  Eye patch, tattoos, muscles, handsome daddy, and poetry lover? I pray that he doesn’t forget my batteries.

  With opera blasting in my earbuds, I enjoy a hot tub full of bubbles, while I sip champagne, grin, and read Balthazar’s copy of Keats.

  I have so much of you in my heart.

  “M
e too,” I mutter.

  An M is scribbled next to the quote. I read it again and again. In my heart? I search for more markings. M? For me? I wish.

  You cannot conceive how I ache to be with you: how I would die for one hour...

  Again, an M. I pray that he reads this and thinks of me.

  I never was in love—yet the voice and the shape of a woman has haunted me these two days.

  “Oh, god.” I exhale as my pulse races. One long sip of champagne and my heart skips into a sprint. Another M along with yesterday’s date. Holy shit! I flip forward a few pages and find nothing. Then I turn to a page that’s dog-eared.

  I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.

  Today’s date, M, and the word…please.

  Once I’ve finished reading the quote for the third time—aloud—I look up. Shit! So maybe I’ve just died a little. Balthazar.

  Sinking under the water, I pray that the remaining bubbles cover my body. My nipples, though, can’t hide for anything. My breasts act like buoys that push them out of the water—little, screaming, pink ninjas. I don’t shriek—the boys are sleeping in the room next door.

  I yank my earbuds out, eager to hear him speak. Maybe he’ll say a quote from Keats. Wishful thinking? He says nothing for longer than I can stand. But he does look at me. All of me. I wish I knew what he was thinking. Maybe he’ll get undressed and climb into the tub with me? Please, I will him.

  Nothing. Fuck. Maybe he’s thinking something else, like My god, she is lovely naked. I want so many things right now. And I’m pretty sure I’m about to get none of them as his fingers tap the countertop, where I found the book. His eye remains on me, all over me, constantly roving, probing. Why is he saying nothing? I’m wordless—for once. I don’t know what to say. Maybe I’ll faint and slip under the water. He’ll feel helpless and need to give me mouth-to-mouth. Or I could cry wolf with chest pains to see if he’ll place his hands on mychest to feel…where it hurts.