Confessions of a Call Center Gal - By Lisa Lim Page 0,115

my hair. “Want to watch a DVD?”

“Sure,” he says. “Whatcha got?”

I slide the DVD into the player. “Planet Earth.”

The documentary unfolds. In one scene, a polar bear leaves his newly born cub in search of food, but it has no luck, thanks to global warming. By the time the polar bear finds his prey, it is too weak to hunt and too weak to go on.

And the next thing I know is, the film crew leaves papa polar bear to die. DIEEEEEEE!

“WHAT? Couldn’t the film crew have done something?” I cry in indignation. “They could’ve saved that polar bear’s life. C’mon already! They could’ve air dropped papa bear some food!”

“Calm down.” Mika strokes my hair. “They’re letting nature play its course. That polar bear is in the wild.”

I flip. “That’s complete bullshit and you know it! If a film crew is there, they’re no longer technically in the wild,” I hiss, making air quotes with my fingers. “And you do not have helicopters zooming about and high-tech cameras filming in the wild. Plus, if I see some animal starving to death in the wild, you know what? I’ll still help it! It makes no difference where it is. If an animal is dying and you are there to witness it, you’re supposed to do something.”

In another scene, a baby elephant gets separated from her mommy. Oh no! I feel a rising panic in my chest when the baby elephant follows the tracks—the wrong way.

And now the baby elephant is lost and guess what?

It is left to DIEEEEEEEEEE!

“NOOOOOooooooo!” I wail. “This is too friggin’ messed up!”

Mika laughs and ruffles my hair.

I rise to my feet. “Sorry, but I can’t watch this.”

He tugs me back to the sofa and gathers me firmly onto his lap. “I can watch this some other time.” He pinches my nose. “I can think of better ways to be entertained.”

“Yeah?” I murmur.

Standing up, he scoops me into his arms. “Urrrrggh,” he grunts, showing off his brute strength.

I slide my arms around his neck. “Am I too heavy for you?”

“Uh-huh, must be from eating all those cinnamon rolls,” he says in a teasing voice.

“Will you still love me if I turn into a chubby Cinnabon?”

“I’ll love you more!” He drops a kiss on my lips. “You could use some more meat on your bones.” Heading for the bedroom, he carries me over the threshold like it’s our honeymoon night and kicks the door shut. Then he plops me on the bed and jogs to the bathroom.

“Be right back, babes,” he hollers over his shoulder.

I drape myself seductively across the damask duvet. Taking a deep breath, I fluff my hair and wait, jittery with anticipation.

Moments later, Mika emerges from the bathroom.

Holding out my arms, I bedazzle and bewitch him with my Jezebel charms, wearing a come-hither, sex-kittenish expression.

To my surprise, instead of sliding under the sheets with me, Mika hops onto his Stud Bar.

Heaving a big sigh, I resign myself and wait. It’ll be another thirty minutes before he comes to bed.

Months ago, when Mika had mentioned in passing that he loved his Stud Bar, I’d assumed he frequented some seedy bar, and that thought didn’t really sit well with me since the Mika I’d come to know and love just did not seem like the barfly type. Just to be certain, I’d googled ‘Stud Bar’ and a website popped up for a gay bar in Montreal. It was described as being one of the most virile establishments in town.

For obvious reasons, I was flummoxed beyond words.

Not only was it a bar, but um, it was also a gay bar?

In Montreal?

Now, after living together, I’d finally discovered that his much beloved Stud Bar is a steel, pull-up bar that mounts to the studs in the ceiling.

And every night before retiring, he is up on that Stud Bar, doing thirty pull-ups followed by thirty chin-ups.

Just like tonight.

By the time my Stud Muffin is ready for bed, I am nodding off to sleep. “Mika…” I mutter drowsily into my pillow. “If you buff yourself up too much, your head will shrink way out of proportion to the rest of your body.”

Slipping into bed beside me, he wraps the duvet around us and nuzzles me lovingly. Smothered in darkness, I can feel the strength of his wanting, and he proves that his other head is not in the least bit affected.

Ahhhhhh. Bliss. And double bliss. After some mind-blasting love making, Mika spoons me from behind and whispers a Scottish folk song in