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purple, and rich red pillows. Some are square, some circular, some cylindrical. She finds one that’s emerald green and long.
    â€œLook!” Her face lights up as if she’s discovered a pirate’s booty.
    â€œWhat’s the pillow love all about, Josie?”
    Hugging it tighter, she answers, “Pillows are wonderful. We can nap with them, cuddle with them, put our feet on them. Also,” she says, wagging a finger to draw me closer and dropping her voice to a whisper, “they’re boob friends.”
    And I’m a cartoon character knocked senseless. It’s as if I’ve been hit with a frying pan of naughty, and the dirty lobe of my brain has rattled free. “Boob friends?”
    Josie wiggles her eyebrows and backs up into the aisle next to the pillows.
    I follow.
    I’d follow her anywhere right now because she just uttered my favorite word. Boobs . For the record, my second favorite word is tits. Third is breasts.
    She bites her lip, glances from side to side, then draws the pillow right between the valley of the goddesses on her chest.
    I groan.
    Audibly.
    And my dick springs to attention in my jeans, the shameless fucker.
    Then, it’s story time for Josie Hammer, as she launches into a tale. “Once upon a time, I had a stuffed crocodile. He was a small, green creature who lived on my bed, a present from when I was younger and in the middle of a big love fest for the Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile books. I made him talk, and I named him Lyle Lyle, too.”
    â€œClever.”
    Her eyes twinkle. “But what was truly clever was how in middle school I discovered Lyle Lyle’s real purpose. You see, he came in quite handy for this early bloomer. When I was twelve and started getting these,” she says, gesturing to those absolutely fucking magnificent globes, “I started sleeping with Lyle Lyle.”
    â€œYou slept with the stuffed crocodile?” I ask, my throat as dry as my dick is hard.
    She nods and hugs the green pillow tighter between her breasts.
    â€œWhy did you sleep with him?” I ask because the answer eludes me.
    She shifts her weight so she’s leaning a bit to the right. “Because when you sleep on your side, the girls kind of fall on top of each other and smash each other. It can be a little uncomfortable.”
    Yeah, like the tightness in my pants right now .
    â€œI bet,” I choke out.
    â€œSo Lyle Lyle got a job. I enlisted him as a boob friend. I slept with him every night, and he delivered complete and utter boob comfort.”
    That lucky fucking inanimate animal. “I want to grow up to be a stuffed crocodile.”
    Josie’s green eyes widen, then she laughs. “I like you just fine as you, though.”
    I hold up my forearm. “Then consider this. Would this work as a boob friend? Hypothetically, of course. I’m pretty sure my hand would fit nicely between a pair of boobs.”
    She swats me. “If the pillow fails, I’ll rap twice on the wall.”
    â€œHonestly, you don’t even have to knock. Just come into my room, grab my hand, and slide it between the girls.” My eyes drift to her 36Cs. What? I can tell from looking. It’s a scientific gift of mine.
    â€œWhat color are my eyes?”
    Her question doesn’t compute. I snap my gaze back up to her face. “Green.”
    She points to the bridge of her nose. “And they’re here.”
    â€œSeriously? You were talking about boobs. Pragmatically speaking, I had no choice but to look at the topic of conversation.”
    She gives me an I-caught-youstare.
    I hold up my hands. “This is not a Swedish Fish moment. You brought it up.”
    She lifts the green pillow and bonks me on the head with it. “And your hand offer is noted.”
    â€œJust trying to be helpful. That’s all.”
    â€œAnd I appreciate it. I’m also buying this pillow.”
    When we reach the counter, I pay for the pillow