Lovers Leaping

“Good morning, sir. I’m here to have sex with your daughter.”

I probably didn’t need to say that. Ferala and me are dating and today is Valentine’s Day. One of the most nerve-wracking days.

“Oh! Welcome! Please, come in! HONEY! Ola’s here and he brought a gift!”

“For Ferala.”

“Of course, of course. Why so nervous? Of course it’s for my darling fertile daughter.”

Please don’t check the box, please don’t check the box, pleasedon’tcheckthebox.

“Ola! Hello, hello! Ferala’s in her room upstairs. I’m sure you two are eager to make the Nordmanns and Prestons bigger families, so don’t let us keep you!”

Missus Preston, why don’t you just kick me upstairs? This is what I want to say. But I don’t. She definitely could though with those muscly wererabbit legs of hers. The fluffiness is the best part though.

Why am I thinking about my girlfriend’s mother’s legs? Away, away with you thoughts of how similar the two pairs are, and away with YOU, Mister Preston. Stop pushing me forward and up the stairs with a manic fervour for grandchildren only rivaled by your wife’s. I barely managed to take my muddy shoes off. Do you want devil bugs? Because that’s how you get devil bugs.

He scuttles off quickly enough at Ferala’s door though, giving a wide smile and a very sincere, “Good luck.” I don’t need to look back to know that he’s off to meet the Missus and hole up for the entire day in their room. I just listen to Mister Preston rapidly thump back to the top of the stairs and Missus Preston make three HEAVY leaps up. One to get in position on the bottom floor, another to leap up to the wide platform thing in the middle, and (after a quick right turn) the last to leap high enough to land right into her husband’s arms, bridal style. It’s their best party trick, so to speak, and encouragement to try and get us kids go at it.

Their lusty laughter gets cut off immediately as I close the door to Ferala’s room behind me.

“Hola. You made it. Happy Valentine’s Day.” She greets me from the shag carpet floor, leaning against the side of her bed with a book on trap making lying on her thighs. Always thought that little pun was cute. First word I heard from her when we met and became our joke since. She was taking two different language classes. I don’t remember which one she failed since I barely hear either language from her.

Successful bilingualism aside, my curvy little bunny is a sweet treat who doesn’t mind me nibbling anywhere on her any time I want. There’s the not quite white chocolate ears, tinged with light brown and long and floppy. Below are large, round eyes like green candies and dark chocolate hair that could cover her entire back if it weren’t enchanted to be repelled from there. Instead it hangs like two narrow capes in front of her milk chocolate skin (LARGE. BREASTS.) or whatever clothes happen to be on at the time. Today is a simple white t-shirt, puffy orange vest, and a denim waistcloth skirt thing that reaches the middle of her thighs. Down low, there’s her legs, same colour as her ears. Those muscled, deceptively thick, smothered in fluff legs. Best of both worlds for a lap pillow. May cause sneezing from tickles.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Ferala.” I almost sigh it out. It’s a relief that her parents didn’t check the box I brought in. Plain old cardboard wrapped up in bright yellow and tied off with a silk red ribbon, it’s as wide as my chest plus shoulders and just as tall. Despite the bright appearance, its contents would most assuredly be considered heinous by Mister and Missus Preston.

Let’s just set this thing down on the floor- there we go- and start our Valentine’s Day. Ferala got up and stole a kiss as I bent down so she’s on top of things it seems.

“So, you ready?” Licking her lips, wiggling her hips. She’s really excited.

“All set.” I say as I unwrap the box and reach right to the bottom for two small squares with circle imprints. Ferala’s face absolutely lights up at the sight of them.

+++

I don’t believe it, he got them, he actually got them!

“Reservations at Anton’s?!”

Those two little papers with a shark-fin shaped A in the middle represent the best pasta place in the neighbouring city. They do this prepaid meal ticket thing to prevent line-ups around the block for those huge plates of baked linguini with creamy rosé sauce that’s mixed with three cheeses and primo vegetables that are lightly fried before getting tossed in the oven and ooooOOOH-

“You know it. Got lucky last mon-”

I press SUPER hard against my hero like I know he likes and jump up and down, trying not to squeal in his ear. Mommy and Daddy earthquake and soundproofed the entire house for everyone’s privacy but now it’s covering up my glee at how good Ola is to me. Mom taught me that the best man is one who can sleep in all day every day but my resourceful boyfriend here knocked that lesson right out of me on our first date.

None of my friends believe that a skinny, blue-eyed, wide-nosed journalism student with curly brown hair could convince me to leave my room. It did take a while though. Five rounds of alternating wins and losses at Crokinole (gotta flick little pucks as close to the centre as possible) worth. At some point, I just wanted to play more than win a night in bed. Ola promised to show me more games and I agreed. Daddy did not like it when we went out suddenly and liked it even less when we came back home with board games to play in the kitchen. After the lecture and me begging for Ola to be given another chance though, I got a bunch of hobbies to make sure Mommy and Daddy can never confirm that we always sneak out of the house. My room is a total mishmash of what anyone else would call junk.

“Okay, hehheh, I’ll stop, I’ll stop.” Still don’t let go though as we both slip into a little joke we call ‘conspiracy mode’ and start whispering.

“Candles?” He asks.

“Buttered Rum and Coffee. Very strong scents. Made them three days ago and they should seep through the door nicely to cover up any absence of sweat.”

“Is this why you asked me to buy those two buckets at the ice cream shop last month?”

“And why I’ve been eating a bowl of one of those every two days since. Both kind of grow on you after a while. Doesn’t actually turn me on though, thought you’d like to know.” My turn. “Rope?”

“Yep, about five metres nylon in the box.” Fantastic. I let go and hop over to open the sole window in my room. It faces Miss Karmer’s exercise room next door and I’m relieved to see that the blinds are closed. She must be out and about somewhere. “Are we tying this to one of your bedposts or did that community centre metalworking thing pay off?”

“I just bought a collapsible one online. Mines’ fall apart too easily.” Right next to the door to my room is the closet. It’s where I hide my secrets in dirty laundry, like an outdoor grappling hook.

“And did your parents just think it was part of your rock climbing lessons?” Ola asks as he starts uncoiling and lowering the rope out the window.

“I messed that one up a little actually.” I was not looking forward to admitting this. It’s going to make going out a lot harder in the future but we’re covered for today. “I stopped going to them a few days before the package arrived. Mommy and Daddy didn’t really believe me when I said that I just forgot to cancel the order.” Ola’s grimace is hard to look at as I pass the grappling hook to him but I can’t help but add, “Didn’t help that the rock climbing guys supplied everything for the lessons too. Haha… Heh.”

“Aaaaand…?” I know that he’s asking how this complicates things but I’m glad to say that the one issue that arose out of that has been covered. Despite my nervous giggle, a smug smile very quickly replaces it.

“Aaaaand that’s why I memorized where Daddy dug all the trap holes in the lawn last night.” Ola smiles at that while I make sure the candles are lit. I’m sure having them sit in the middle of this metal washtub on the floor near the window will be okay. No fire hazard for sure.

“If we met twenty years earlier, do you think we’d have thought to plant a tree outside so we could climb down it?” Hook’s secure against the windowsill.

“That’d have been cute. Like a promise tree or something. We’d both be one year old then, right?” Candle smells are coming on strong.

“Right. And our parents would have to had not been two countries apart.” Ola’s putting on a pair of shoes that he hid in the box. We’re all set.

I could just jump down from my room. It’s only a story high. However, climbing down the slow way helps me check if Daddy dug a last minute trap hole below my room. After I poke the ground with my foot and confirm that it’s solid, I drop down and start pestering Ola, who’s watching from the window, to, “Jump! Jump! Jump!” We’ve perfected me catching him after a month, don’t even need to pack a cushion in Ola’s boxes anymore. All he needs is to “Jump! Jump! Jump!” Just like I am right now, stretching my arms up towards him like a kid.

The encouragement is just for fun. Ola pulls up the rope and removes the hook before disappearing from view for a moment. He’ll have them looped around a shoulder and we’ll hide it in one of Miss Karmer’s bushes to use when we get back.

One minute and a, “Geronimo!” later, Ola looks like a bride in my arms, blushing from the excitement or from me, I don’t know. I’d like to think both. When he tells me that this move reminds him too much about Mommy and Daddy, I just clutch him harder and carry him all the way to the sidewalk, making him gasp and laugh with every long leap across our lawn. All that soundproofing is such a benefit to us. We’re having more fun than right now then they will all day I bet.

What Mommy and Daddy do in isolation isn’t boring. But I don’t want to lose track of time in bed with Ola. I want Ola to keep planning our time together. I want more memorable acts in memorable places. I want to know my boyfriend in more ways than getting pregnant. I want to let the world make our love for each other bigger.

It’s nine in the morning and we’re going to have fun in the park. Then at ten, we hit the mall to see the holiday deals and have lunch. At one, we have a couples tournament at the games shop to win. Four o’ clock, a movie, we’ll pick when we get there. Seven, ANTON’S. And then we head back to my house to grapple back up before cuddling and maybe we’ll finally do what Mommy and Daddy want.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Ola.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Ferala.”

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