Covering Her Assets by N.L. Wilson

Author:N.L. Wilson [Doherty, Norah Wilson and Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Norah Wilson
Published: 2014-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

The one thing that my little condo lacks is a nice en suite bathroom. The one in that Drammen guest room was small, equipped only with a shower, not a full bath, but it was finished very nicely. Very expensively. The countertop was an ivory-colored marble, the fixtures burnished nickel. The sink was one of those affairs that sat on top of the countertop like a beautiful white porcelain bowl. Big, plush, white towels were stacked on a shelf beneath the sink. The walls were a lovely pale yellow. Several mirrors, framed in black, made the room look larger than it actually was. Even the toilet looked elegant.

I shut the bathroom door behind me—a couple times, thanks to the stupid latch that didn’t catch quite right—and walked across the cold tile floor to the toilet.

I’m not really one to notice those things normally, but the room was poorly laid out. As I stood there facing the toilet, I came face to face with myself in that early morning hour. No, it wasn’t one of those Zen reality things. Not even an Oprah aha moment. I was literally seeing my reflection. What genius thought it was a good idea to hang a mirror up over the toilet? Did guys check out their receding hairlines as they peed?

I shook my head. Sometimes I just didn’t get men. And on that cheery note, I looked again at the FUD. I drew down the front of my grey sweats and placed the so-not-fudge contraption...um...strategically. Then I waited.

And waited a few seconds more. I had to admit, it was awkward. Seriously, my natural instincts were telling me to clench right up.

What could I do to coax it along?

Should I whistle? Isn’t there some sort of urban myth about whistling?

But as I waited, I checked myself out in the mirror again. This time, I gazed deep into my eyes. Well, after admiring my hairline. It is pretty nice, if I do say so myself.

Dylan.

Yes, I was thinking of him. More specifically, I was thinking how much I really wanted to move that bathroom mirror over the toilet at his place now. And yes, I was also thinking about how he wanted us to take things further. He wanted me to—dear God—take a leap of faith.

And then something happened.

In that mirror, I saw something I’d never seen before. And kind of never-fucking-ever wanted to see again! No, not just the stream of urine now flowing like a mighty waterfall. When I glanced up in the mirror again, it was to see the door slowly creaking open. Damn that latch! And there stood a shocked Mrs. Presley watching me tinkle into the toilet.

I couldn’t just stop mid-stream! God, maybe men weren’t lying when they said their dick had a mind of its own.

Damn!

Mrs. Presley paled. Her eyes grew wider than I’d ever seen them. “Dix! You’re...you’re…”

She looked up; she looked down. Up at my face, then down to my—

“This isn’t what you think!” I hurried to say. “I

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