That Badass Challenge by Terveen Gill

How had he gotten his hands on the damn thing?

If she remembered correctly, it had been hidden in the bottom drawer of her wardrobe beneath three rows of neatly folded socks and her crocheted bikini which she could only dream of squeezing into now. But she had kept the flimsy thing as a keepsake, a reminder of her skinnier days.

He balanced the damn thing on the palm of his hand and his outstretched arm invited her to take a closer look and identify her most recent online purchase.

His words were disarranged unlike the neat smile framed upon his plump face.

‘Is this – what were you – come on now – hahahaha…’

She wanted to grab the damn thing and throw it back at his face, but its negligible weight wouldn’t have achieved the harmful results she desired.

So she continued to stare him straight in the eye and spat out her anger and shame.

‘How dare you go snooping through my things! Are you turning into a pervert?!’

There was a flash of guilt and hurt and then his black eyes resumed their accusing glare.

‘Don’t try to change the subject. I was looking for those donuts you stole from the fridge. But this looks more interesting.’

He had her where he wanted her, sweating and running out of excuses to defend herself. But then a light came on in the dimmest place and her illuminated mind thought – what the hell!

‘Yours is prettier than mine and so much softer. That’s not fair!’

She whined like an irritated toddler who wanted nothing and everything.

His smile vanished and a surprised ‘wuh’ fell from its place. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the mirror.

‘Turn around!’

He did and she tugged his boxers down to his ankles.

‘See?!’

He turned his head to look back at his reflection. His butt did look nice and round, plain white skin with no dents, moles, spots, or discoloration. It was a butt to be proud of. Especially when all he did was sit on it most of the day.

‘Go ahead. Feel it.’

She didn’t sound happy, but his hand felt like it was in heaven as it moved against smooth skin.

‘When was the last time you used soap or cream on it?’

She answered her own question.

‘Never!’

She ripped the box from his hand and shoved it close to his face.

‘Butt cream! Yes! Two months. Thrice a day. My butt will put your butt to shame.’

He pulled up his shorts and yanked hard on the elastic. His grin and confidence were back.

‘Bring it on, sour-butt!’