Author’s Assortment #8 – Spidermania Pt. 4

Posted: December 29, 2018 in Uncategorized

By G.N. Jacobs

The boat horns of Lake Michigan gave way to the similar horns just offshore of Brighton Beach mixed with the last gasp of Coney Island trolling the tourists before going into half schedule for the winter. The clackity-clack of the Cyclone had always created a Pavlovian response for Peter even before he’d cornered MJ in the line for the kiss and clarity that defined their current relationship five years later. It was inevitable that their pooled wrestling and modeling money would go towards moving southward into the good neighborhoods near Long Island Sound.

Peter and MJ flopped on the green couch cuddled up in last year’s Ugly Christmas Sweaters that had almost the contest. Too many seconds had passed for the lovers to get immediately frisky as sometimes happened upon arriving home. Instead she slipped off her pumps that never went well with flying, but the traces of her ego forbade she should switch out for flats. Her feet landed in Peter’s lap.

He rubbed them down with the care and attention of a lecherous podiatrist listening to the noises coming from his de facto wife. She squeaked approvingly and then moaned but not in a way that would combat the exhaustion of the trip to Chicago. No sex tonight.

Peter didn’t care, using his silence while rubbing to review the memories of the Chicago trip. The pay-per-view, the third since joining up with Global Wrestling Entertainment, had gone well. The fans divided online between many camps – “Wow! I didn’t think GWE would have the Green Spider do the job like that!” – with sub-threads for – “Peter Parker certainly played up getting his ass kicked by Tarantula Hawk, why isn’t Hollywood offering action parts?” – but with a small few people commenting – “Really? The girl gets her arms yanked like a sexist wishbone and we’re supposed to give a crap?”

Peter closed the computer before having to read the replies to the feminist thread likely to include accusations that the feminists weren’t fans. And counter accusations of “misogynist trolls who wouldn’t know a real woman if we sat on your face.” MJ saw the weirdness in Peter’s face and waved for her to see the computer.

“Tiger, we chose to be this public,” MJ said. “We need to see what our fans are saying.”

“I’d rather just rub your feet and listen to the ambient noise over the water, Tootsie Pop,” Peter admitted. “I have to remind myself to mentally suggest to these fu…folks to frak themselves and the self-righteous horse they rode in on. It’s easier that way.”

MJ took the computer and read the threads. “Do both, Tiger.”

Peter resumed the foot rub. MJ giggled at both her boyfriend’s perfect touch and some of the goofiness transpiring online. Peter listened to the noises coming from her mouth. She was mostly amused.

“Well?” Peter asked when the foot rub naturally ended.

“I think I need chocolate, Tiger,” MJ declared. “It’s that kind of night for why we’re not…”

“I hear and obey, Tootsie Pop,” Peter said.

He found a box of assorted holiday gift chocolate, the kind where memorizing which pieces go in which traditional slot in the box determines whether nougat versus the dread cherry coconut. She nibbled and felt better immediately.

“I did sort of mean a little more by my ‘well’ than offering to get you chocolate on demand, MJ,” Peter said.

“I know,” MJ said. “It’s a normal day on social media. No one is creepier than they need to be. Nothing to report to Bruno and I’ve got real money on the whole feminist thread being a troll operation. The OP said ‘girl’ when a woke sister would always say ‘woman.’ Little things like that.”

“And?”

“In the real world, Tiger, even the woke have slips of the tongue,” MJ said giving a laugh that tilted her head in such a way that a photograph just escaped her lover. “I see why you get so annoyed by all this, but it is the job to let them have their fantasies…until they get too dark.”

Peter nodded and brought her closer to him on the couch putting her head in its comfortable spot over his sternum. They pantomimed a few what next scenarios, including him teasing her with the TV remote as if phase two of getting her past not feeling exactly right included letting her pick the Rom-Com. She waved him off preferring to listen to his 80bpm resting heart rate through the ugly sweater.

“The social media stuff and foot rub interrupted what you’re really thinking,” MJ said. “What was your trip to Chicago like?”

“You were there for most of it,” Peter said rolling his eyes where she couldn’t see.

“You watched me dance with some guy that wasn’t acting his attraction to me,” MJ said.

Peter remembered…

Take Forty. The ballplayer character had his forbidden love in a tango while the cameras rolled. Peter tried to busy himself with emails and texts concerning the simmering labor dispute between management and writers at Global Wrestling Entertainment. Silencing every button click on the phone and sitting at least twenty feet away at the craft service table had been the minimum acceptable solution vis a vie the determined young lady with the radio, a Second Assistant Director her orange vest said.

By Take Fifty, Peter took in MJ’s hip sway while held firmly at the waist during the dance that didn’t end. He wondered about how the tango sequence, a planned forty seconds out of six minutes of music video had seemingly expanded. Or at least exposed the possibly fake perfectionism of Calvin.

“Let’s go again,” Calvin said.

Take Sixty. MJ found her own ways to subtly tweak the dance to her own ends, like finding a camera setup where blowing a kiss to her onscreen forbidden love really meant blowing a kiss to Peter exiled to the table with the donuts, chips and carrot sticks drowned in hummus. She noted that her Tiger used the phone to display far more willpower sitting next to the snacks than most people would.

“Let’s go again,” MJ said.

Take Seventy. The underlying contest of will between an actress that already had her domestic brass ring and a smooth operator fishing new waters came to head. Calvin’s leg muscles broke before hers and…

“Cut! Print! That’s our martini and a wrap!”

“You were jealous, weren’t you, Tigger?” MJ asked.

“No, why?” Peter asked not covering the lie. “Isn’t he, like, gay or something?”

MJ playfully swatted Peter’s chest. “I spoke with the girl from his previous video. She thinks he’s Bi. And I think you guessed that.”

Peter stroked her arm and back. “Maybe. I don’t know. I did spend more time trying to imagine me holding you like that.”

“You already do, Tigger,” MJ said. “But, it’s a nice thing to say.”

“He also hit me up for inside tidbits about wrestling,” Peter said. “Probably wants to do wrestling themed video sometime down the road. Have me back as consultant and you as the love interest again, see if we’ve blown up our thing…”

“I knew you noticed!” MJ said amused. “Thank you for telling me a little bit about how you saw our trip to Chicago. Though you’ve adroitly dodged the other part of the question…”

Peter sighed reaching for his cell phone to tap a button on the smart home management app.

Across the street towards the City, two steel beetles alighted on fenceposts at opposite ends of the neighbor’s property. Mechanical irises opened adjusting to the light balance of the street lit by orange streetlights. Lasers aimed at the front windows of the Parker-Watson house caught every gooey, mushy word of a couple debriefing after a trip to the Windy City. Until the white noise generator kicked in creating static in place of the mildly entertaining soap opera.

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