You Stole What?

This is a rather salacious response to the Writer's Digest prompt "Note on Your Car" (Jan 7, 2015). I posted it here because it's implied NSFW.

“Mary Lou?”

“Hi John. Did you get my note?”

“Yeah. ‘You have my most prized possession, meet at the baseball diamond if I want to see it again in tact? But I never dreamed you’d have THAT!”

“Oh, but I do. And it is yours.”

“That isn’t possible! It’s part of my body!”

She ran her finger up the length of it and my breath caught in my throat. I reached down to where it was supposed to be and it wasn’t there.

“Mary Lou, how is this even possible?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was magic? You know, that ‘hocus pocus nonsense’ I’m always on about?”

She flicked it with a finger and smiled as I winced. This was just impossible! How did she steal it? How was I not bleeding to death? How could I still feel what she was doing?

“M-Mary Lou? Could you please give that back? Please?”

“Not tonight. I know you were planning on showing it to Lindy Martin tonight.” She waved her finger at me. “Ah-ah-ahhhh, naughty boy. You don’t get it back until I’m done with it.”

I dropped to my knees. “Please! I beg you!”

“Say magic is real.”

“Magic is real.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“Magic is real! Magic is real! Magic is real!”

“All right, I believe you.” She looked over into the darkness. “Do you believe him?”

Lindy Martin stepped out. Just seeing those tight jeans and that halter top made the part of me Mary Lou was holding react.

“I believe him. You were right about him being a sucker for tight pants, too.”

Mary Lou held out her hand. “Now, which part of him do you want tonight?”

Lindy pointed at me. “That one. It’s the part that pays for dinner.”

“Okay. And tomorrow night we trade.”