under the hood. Milton's under-the-hood equipment was high octane, super-charged, and definitely not compact. Thanks to a strategically-placed bunny tail, not to mention copious amounts of chocolate-flavored lube put to good use by my bunny ear wearing boyfriend, I was still feeling well-fucked and more than a bit mellow when we arrived for Easter brunch the next day at Milton's family home.
Or, as I like to call it, The Palace of White.
The Nobody Go In There! living room wasn't the only ode to all things white in Milton's mother's house. While everyone else I knew had gone brushed steel, cherry red, or shiny black in the appliance department, Milton's mother maintained a pristine white refrigerator, stove, dishwasher, and even microwave oven. The kitchen table had a butcher block top and white legs, with matching white ladder back chairs. Her dining room table was some sort of antique that had been painted white and decorated with gold trim. The sideboard was white. The walls in the entire house were off white, the dining room carpet cream, the drapes marshmallow, the entry way tiles chalk-colored slate, the fireplace whitewashed brick. Even the little throw rug inside the front door, where we were all obliged to leave our shoes, was white shag. The first time I walked into Milton's mother's house, I felt like putting on my sunglasses.
I've gotten used to the glare over the years. It helps that I purposefully leave my sunglasses in the car. Milton's mother probably thinks my squint is normal.
Thanks to Milton's impeccable sense of timing and his overwhelming need to never be late, we arrived at Easter brunch precisely ten minutes ahead of schedule. Milton's mother met us at the door. She gave her son a quick peck on the cheek and me a courteous nod. I nodded courteously back.
"Mrs. Grosbeck," I said. "I wish you the most joyous of Easters."
"That sentiment is for Christmas, Charles," she said. Never mind that I preferred to be called Chuck. Even Milton calls me Chuck now. "In this family, we wish each other 'Happy Easter.'"
I nodded. "Then the most happiest of Easters," I said.
She sighed. She seemed to do that a lot around me.
I heard the excited shouts of the horde of nieces and nephews coming from the back of the house. The portion of the family that came equipped with small children was scheduled to arrive a half hour before we were.
"Has the Easter Bunny arrived yet?" I asked.
"Did you bring the eggs?" she responded.
"Yes, Mother." Milton handed over the two cartons of colored eggs.
Mrs. Grosbeck lifted the lid on one carton, saw the uni-color eggs, and sighed again. "The Easter Bunny will arrive shortly after we hide these in the back yard," she told me. "I'll give them to Theodore."
Ted Starling was Milton's brother-in-law, married to his youngest sister, Clarice. It was all I could do not to ask Clarice every time I saw her if she'd run off with any lambs lately. She never seemed to appreciate my sense of humor. The first time I tried the joke, she'd looked at me with a blank expression on her less than attractive face, but I could have sworn I saw the tiniest of grins play at the corners of her husband's mouth. That made Ted an okay guy in my book.
Ted was the one who played with the kids at all family gatherings and occasionally drank a beer around his in-laws, but whatever humor he found in his wife's family, he kept to himself. On the way over, Milton told me Ted's assignment this Easter was to hide the eggs, then crawl inside a pristine white (of course) Easter Bunny costume and hand out candy to kids who'd already made themselves hyper tearing apart their grandmother's backyard looking for hidden eggs.
"It's all in Mother's email," Milton said.
Of course, it was. She'd assigned tasks to all the family, right down to scheduling the start and finish times. My chore for the day--Easter egg dying being a chore for the day before --was to collect the inevitable trash in the backyard, place it neatly
Or, as I like to call it, The Palace of White.
The Nobody Go In There! living room wasn't the only ode to all things white in Milton's mother's house. While everyone else I knew had gone brushed steel, cherry red, or shiny black in the appliance department, Milton's mother maintained a pristine white refrigerator, stove, dishwasher, and even microwave oven. The kitchen table had a butcher block top and white legs, with matching white ladder back chairs. Her dining room table was some sort of antique that had been painted white and decorated with gold trim. The sideboard was white. The walls in the entire house were off white, the dining room carpet cream, the drapes marshmallow, the entry way tiles chalk-colored slate, the fireplace whitewashed brick. Even the little throw rug inside the front door, where we were all obliged to leave our shoes, was white shag. The first time I walked into Milton's mother's house, I felt like putting on my sunglasses.
I've gotten used to the glare over the years. It helps that I purposefully leave my sunglasses in the car. Milton's mother probably thinks my squint is normal.
Thanks to Milton's impeccable sense of timing and his overwhelming need to never be late, we arrived at Easter brunch precisely ten minutes ahead of schedule. Milton's mother met us at the door. She gave her son a quick peck on the cheek and me a courteous nod. I nodded courteously back.
"Mrs. Grosbeck," I said. "I wish you the most joyous of Easters."
"That sentiment is for Christmas, Charles," she said. Never mind that I preferred to be called Chuck. Even Milton calls me Chuck now. "In this family, we wish each other 'Happy Easter.'"
I nodded. "Then the most happiest of Easters," I said.
She sighed. She seemed to do that a lot around me.
I heard the excited shouts of the horde of nieces and nephews coming from the back of the house. The portion of the family that came equipped with small children was scheduled to arrive a half hour before we were.
"Has the Easter Bunny arrived yet?" I asked.
"Did you bring the eggs?" she responded.
"Yes, Mother." Milton handed over the two cartons of colored eggs.
Mrs. Grosbeck lifted the lid on one carton, saw the uni-color eggs, and sighed again. "The Easter Bunny will arrive shortly after we hide these in the back yard," she told me. "I'll give them to Theodore."
Ted Starling was Milton's brother-in-law, married to his youngest sister, Clarice. It was all I could do not to ask Clarice every time I saw her if she'd run off with any lambs lately. She never seemed to appreciate my sense of humor. The first time I tried the joke, she'd looked at me with a blank expression on her less than attractive face, but I could have sworn I saw the tiniest of grins play at the corners of her husband's mouth. That made Ted an okay guy in my book.
Ted was the one who played with the kids at all family gatherings and occasionally drank a beer around his in-laws, but whatever humor he found in his wife's family, he kept to himself. On the way over, Milton told me Ted's assignment this Easter was to hide the eggs, then crawl inside a pristine white (of course) Easter Bunny costume and hand out candy to kids who'd already made themselves hyper tearing apart their grandmother's backyard looking for hidden eggs.
"It's all in Mother's email," Milton said.
Of course, it was. She'd assigned tasks to all the family, right down to scheduling the start and finish times. My chore for the day--Easter egg dying being a chore for the day before --was to collect the inevitable trash in the backyard, place it neatly
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