Klutzy Love by Sharon Kleve

for calling him that. “I mean, what did your friends do to Brenda’s boyfriend John?”
    Steve shook his head and firmly stated, “I can’t talk about it.”
    This called for a change in tactics. I ran back into the house and scrounged around in my purse for my red fuck-me lipstick. I pulled off my g-string panties and slid them into the front pocket of my shorts.
    I walked out and waited until he noticed me and then exaggerated the sway of my hips. I slid up behind Steve and rubbed my boobs slowly from side to side across his back, while I fondled his ass. After he was sufficiently turned on, I whispered, “Reach into the front pocket of my shorts. I have a present for you in there.” Steve dropped his meat fork and spun me around. His hand was in my pocket in a split second— he almost pulled my shorts off. I could tell the moment he figured out what he’d found. Steve slid the silky material out of my pocket and into his pocket in the blink of an eye.
    “Thanks Babe, but I know exactly what you’re doing.”
    “I need to know what’s going on with John because Brenda cares for him and if he’s a creep, she needs to know before he breaks her heart.”
    I could tell he thought hard about it and made an important relationship decision. “If you can wait until everyone leaves, I’ll tell you what I know. But keep in mind, it isn’t a lot, okay?”
    I kissed him with lots of tongue. “Okay, and that’s a preview for later.”
    Wow, it was a great party. There was a big bruiser of a guy, two hundred and fifty pounds easy, who lay down in the backyard and never got back up again. When it started to get dark and he hadn’t moved, I checked his pulse and found it strong. I got a blanket and covered him. There was no way I move him and he looked kind of comfortable. Steve said the guy did it a lot and not to worry.
    Ewww, I had a thought. What if he was covered in a trail of slug-goo in the morning? He drank large amounts of beer all night and slugs were drawn to beer. They’d lick him, dry up, die and keep him warm like a warm blanket. Cool.
    It was pretty late when the last guest passed out or left. We decided to hold off on our talk about John until morning. We seemed to have a lot of those talks and besides we still had to clean up before we got to bed.
    Barbecue sauce could be a real bugger to clean if you let it dry and it was everywhere. The bathroom was a sticky disaster and I found the strangest thing when I went to pee. There was a single hand print; made with barbecue sauce, on the wall behind the toilet. I used my detective skills and determined that a guy must have been too drunk to stand on his own to pee. He braced himself on the wall with his right hand, and held his cock in the left.
    I took a picture before I cleaned the print off the wall. Steve could put the picture in the police department’s quarterly newsletter, along with my article.
    Sergeant Steve Spears threw a fantastic barbecue last weekend and many of you attended. The Sergeant found a strange hand print on the wall behind the toilet. He believes it was made with Sweet Baby Rays barbecue sauce. This scene depicts sloppy drunken behavior. It’s okay to manhandle your cock with sticky barbecue sauce, but not the wall of your friend’s home. If you recognize your big mitt in this picture, please apologize and wash your hands next time — before and after.
    Like always, this was funny to me, but the department probably wouldn’t print my story. Steve would laugh and that was all that mattered. Snuggled up to Steve, I listened to his heart- beat and knew I had a great life. He dropped me and Pete off at my apartment late Sunday night and I missed him as soon as he was gone.

    CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

    Steve was busy with cop stuff all week, so I cooked for myself. I stood in front of my stove and ate scalding-hot Spaghetti O’s, out of the pan. I didn’t like them in a bowl; they had to be eaten out of a hot sauce pan.
    When the phone