Spice
Just when you think you've
seen it all, you haven't. And in
our line of work, that's saying quite a lot.
Case in point: one Dr. Egon
Spengler; physicist, Ghostbuster, lover. Well,
more like life partner, really, but you get the idea.
Just when I think I've got
Egon all figured out, he throws me a curve.
Not an earthshaking one, more of a speed bump in my road of life.
A small jolt, nothing more.
This jolt came in the middle
of one of our slow periods, where spectral activity is at a low, and there
aren't many goopers out there to bust. Down
time is great, don't get me wrong, but sometimes the inactivity will drive you
nuts.
So there I was, desperately
trying to find something to watch on the tube, when Egon came downstairs.
"If you have a moment,
Peter, I have something to show you," he purred into my ear.
Well, hell, if Egon used that
tone of voice more often, I would stay awake at staff meetings.
I clicked off the TV, and shifted on the couch.
"What's up, Spengs?"
I then noticed that he was
dressed in his jumpsuit. "Did
a call come in? I didn't hear the
telephone ring."
"No, no.
No calls," he hastily assured me, while heading for the stereo.
"I wanted to get into something more comfortable for the
moment."
He loaded a CD into the
player, and soon the haunting guitar riffs of Robert Plant's "In The
Mood" started playing over the stereo speakers.
Then, wonder of wonders, Egon started -dancing-!
Not just any dance, mind you, but a slow bump and grind guaranteed to
rival any stripper in the clubs today; well, in my mind, anyway.
I pasted a huge cheesy grin
on my face. "Egon, where did
you ever learn to dance like that?"
"I have a natural
rhythm," he said, sashaying his hips from side to side.
"I'm surprised that you've never noticed before."
"Oh, I've noticed, all
right. But usually your natural rhythm is spent saving my ass from
danger, not inflaming my overactive libido."
He reached for the zipper of
his jumpsuit, and began to tug it down, slowly.
"Oh, yeah, baby, take it off! Take
it aalllll off!" I leered at him.
He turned his back to me and
peeled himself to the waist. The
more skin he showed, the huger and cheesier my grin got.
He wiggled that amazing ass of his at me for a few seconds, and turned
back around -- and I almost fell off the couch in shock!
"Egon, is that
a...a--" I squinted to look at it.
I'll be damned if it wasn't... "a
nipple ring?"
He lightly brushed at the
small gold hoop affixed to his right nipple.
"Yes, Peter, it is," he said, matter of factly, and went right
on dancing as if I hadn't said a word.
Okay, all this boredom
probably made Egon snap, and he was experiencing a second childhood, not that he
ever experienced a first one, in any case.
It's not that bad, I could get used to it.
Egon, the rebel, who would've thought?
It's always the quiet ones. His
Mom's gonna bust him one, if she ever found out.
A bit more calmer now, I
watched as he climbed up on the coffee table to continue his gyrations.
Hot damn, a table dance. I
reached into my pocket for my roll of bills.
That's when the second jolt hit me.
He had pushed his jumpsuit
down to his hips, and there, around his navel, was a moat of darkly colored
barbed wire! This time I did fall
off the couch.
"Peter, are you all
right?"
Oh, I'm fine, Egon, it's you
that I'm worried about. "A
tattoo, Egon?" The grin I was
wearing faded a bit. "A
tattoo? Where on earth did that come from?"
I picked myself up off of the floor, and sat on the arm of the couch.
Egon stopped dancing at the
sound of disbelief in my voice. A
flush of red crept over his features. "You
don't like it?" he asked, chagrined.
I held up my hands for him to
take. "Egon, c'mere," I
said, softly.
He reached out and took my
hands in his, stepping down off of the coffee table.
I pulled him into a loose embrace. "What's
with all this, Egon? This isn't
you; me, maybe, but definitely not you."
He snorted.
"You coming back from a drunken binge in the Netherworld, you
mean." He looked down at the
floor and sighed. "I saw an
article on the cover of one of Janine's magazines that had something to do with
putting some spice into a relationship. It
suggested to do something unusual or...exotic to keep the fire burning, so to
speak."
Oh, so that was it.
After all this time, Egon was worried that I would develop a wandering
eye, and look for something fresh and new.
Jeez, how wrong you are, buddy.
"And what makes you
think that the fire is going out?" I asked.
"Egon, no matter what, all I want is to have you right here with me,
in all things. You, yourself, are
the jalapeno in my salsa of life, the curry in my food, my paprika of love,
my-"
"I get the idea, Peter,
thank you."
Warm, blue eyes studied me
for a second, then he bent down and kissed me for a good, long minute.
Just as I was seeing stars, he straightened up, and I nuzzled the soft
skin of his stomach instead.
"Egon, you don't have
any more 'surprises,' do you?"
"Wellll..." he
started, "just one more. But
you might enjoy this one."
I rolled my eyes at him and
grinned. Only Egon.
I let him go, and he shucked his boots and socks.
With a twinkle of mischief in his eye, he grasped his jumpsuit again, and
shoved them down and off.
This time my jaw hit the
floor. And I had to be careful in picking it up, because my eyeballs
were rolling around down there somewhere, too.
He was wearing the skimpiest
thong bikini I had ever seen in my life! Speedos
would be tents compared to this thing! If
I didn't know any better, I would have sworn he raided Janine's underwear drawer
for it!
Of course, it did show a
great view of that magnificent Spengler butt, not to mention the delectable
front half, too. The cheesy grin
was back, with a vengeance.
"Opening a fruit stand,
are we?" I leered. "C'mere,
and let me squeeze the melons to see if they're ripe."
He rolled a hip at me.
"I'd thank you to keep your hands off of my cantaloupes, Dr.
Venkman," he said, haughtily.
With a wicked gleam in my
eye, I rose up from the arm of the couch, and began to stalk him.
"Don't worry," I assured him, "I won't bruise 'em...much."
He broke and ran for the
stairs leading to the garage. I
would have headed him off via the firepole, but then I would lose out on a
spectacular view, so I chased him directly.
I caught up to him when he reached Ecto, where he hopped up on the hood
and lounged there in smug satisfaction.
"Bad move, Egon, Winston
is gonna be mad if he sees your butt prints all over his nice, new wax
job."
Egon just grinned, and
beckoned me with his arms. I
couldn't resist. I climbed up on the hood, and stretched out full length on
top of my lover. Egon's body was
amazing; he could be hard and unyielding, or soft as a cloud, depending on the
situation. And right now, it was
his softness that I wanted to touch.
My lips left his, and I
pressed my ear to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.
He stroked my head and we lay there in bliss for a few moments.
"Um, Egon?"
"Yes, Peter?"
"The tattoo?
Is it...permanent?"
A familiar bass chuckle.
"No, Peter, it will wash off."
"And the nipple
ring?"
"It clamps on."
"Oh, really?"
I grasped the small, gold hoop with my lips and pulled gently.
Sure enough, it popped right off. Turning
my head, I spat it out onto the garage floor.
I then turned my attention to licking and sucking that pinched, hardened
nipple, much to Egon's pleasure.
"You can keep the thong,
though, just don't tell me where or how you got it, deal?"
"Deal," he rumbled.
"What the -hell- is
going on here?!" came an angry voice out of nowhere.
Shit, Zed was back from the
auto parts store, with the new spark plugs for Ecto.
And he caught us having some nookie on the car, too, and that scared me
more than Tolay ever could.
"When I get a hold of
both of you, I'm gonna kick your asses so hard, you'll be tasting my boots for a
week!"
Boy, Zed sounded really mad. Then I saw him reach for the broom--
Egon squirted out from under
me like a greased pig and bolted for the stairs, leaving me to face the wrath of
the righteous alone. "Now,
Winston," I placated, "Egon may have promised not to do anything in
Ecto, but he didn't say anything about -on- Ecto..."
The broom caught me between
the shoulder blades as I turned and tried to flee.
Forgot that Zed used to play baseball, that stung.
I was gonna make damned sure he didn't get another shot at me, so I
poured on the legendary Venkman speed, and raced up the stairs, two at a time.
"Oh, man, my wax job is
ruined!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.
"When I catch his half-naked ass--"
I reached our bedroom in
record time, slamming the door shut on Zed's tirade.
Egon was already sitting on the bed, a small smile quirking up his lips.
"Don't laugh, Egon,
Zed's really pissed at you," I said, pulling some broomstraw out of my
hair. "I told you he'd notice
the smeared wax job."
He sighed.
"I suppose I will have to go down and take my punishment, but I
think it would be prudent to wait until he has calmed down some."
I sat down on the bed next to
him, throwing a grin his way. "I
know of a great time waster. Guaranteed
to keep us occupied for hours."
"How fortuitous,"
he purred, laying down onto the quilt. "Extremely
fortuitous, indeed."
He reached up, and pulled me
down to him. I spent the next
couple of hours rediscovering Egon all over again, and it was just as good the
second time around, if not better.