MANSPLAINING
by StageShowMM
“Actually, if I can just interrupt you a second…”
Emma glared at Hugh, her scowl thankfully obscured by the darkness of the room. This was classic: the “actually” followed by some irrelevant or wrong-headed observation. It was the third time he’d interrupted her this meeting—not that that was any real surprise, given his track record.
“…it looks like you might be using some outdated reports as the source data. I don’t think Q4—”
“I actually reached out to IT and had them pull a back-end query, so most of this is more up to date than what’s even in the SofTech—”
“Oh good, then you talked to Mike P.? I always run anything metrics-related by him before I do an analysis, just to make sure I’m not overlooking anything. You’re only as good as your projections, ya know? Garbage In, Garbage Out, am I right?”
A series of chuckles rippled through the darkened room as Emma fumed. Ever since a senior slot had opened in Analytics, Hugh—already borderline insufferable—had become abjectly intolerable. It didn’t escape Emma he was constantly trying to one-up her in the guise of friendly advice, particularly since word had it that, as Senior lead, she was the odds-on favorite to be selected for the job. In the couple of weeks since the position had been announced, she’d been subjected to a near non-stop barrage of “friendly suggestions” from Hugh, seemingly always in public settings. It was all she could do not to blow a gasket.
“Thank you, Hugh, I’ve taken all of that into account and am quite confident in my metrics. Why don’t you shoot me an email or swing by my desk if you want to dig deeper into my methodology?” Though she was doing her best, Emma couldn’t help but worry too much acid was creeping into her voice. Not that the prick didn’t deserve it, but upper management—Mr. Jensen in particular—were old-fashioned types, and while they would readily brook that type of snark from someone with a dick between their legs, Emma was all too aware she was walking a thinner tightrope.
That seemed to shut Hugh up, but Emma could feel his self-satisfied smirk oozing through the air. It was a shame, ’cause it belonged to a handsome guy. At 6′2″, with silky, well-coiffed auburn hair, a stout figure and natural good looks, Hugh was someone who could’ve had the entire world—not least any woman he wanted—wrapped around his finger if he’d only bothered to cultivate a personality to match. Unfortunately, his handsome visage and solid genetics had instead afforded him the opposite—a total sense of entitlement and unearned over-confidence in his mediocre business acumen. He’d proven a thorn in Emma’s side ever since getting hired, but had nevertheless risen steadily up the ranks to the point he was now in serious contention for a position that—in her eyes—he had absolutely no business vying for.
Emma sighed. Despite Hugh’s attempts to derail her, she had no intention of letting him sabotage her presentation. She just hoped she could get through the rest of it with the guy keeping his goddamn trap shut. There had to be a solution for keeping him out of her hair…
“Jesus, I’ve really had it with that asshole. He thinks just ’cause he’s got looks he can walk all over everybody. Did I forward you that email he sent our team last week? It looked like it was written by a third grader!”
Steve cast another glance over his shoulder, just to make sure Hugh didn’t happen to be around. A bunch of the sales reps were out today, and half of Analytics had just been let go (part of what precipitated the new vacancy), so the office was a ghost town. Nevertheless, there was always the risk of putting a foot in one’s mouth.
“Jesus, yeah,” Emma rolled her eyes. “‘For all-intensive purposes, quarterly metrics are a goal to which everyone should aspire to.’ How the fuck do you ‘aspire to to’ anything, much less a metric?”
In contrast to Hugh, Steve—hired just a year later—had proven to be exactly the kind of coworker Emma liked. The two had bonded quickly over catty banter, and when Emma had received her promotion to manager, she’d had an eye to move Steve over to her team, despite him still—up to this point—being stuck under Hugh. Like her, he was a hard worker and straight-shooter, attributes that had gotten him precisely nowhere in the world of dog-eat-dog office politics. The real problem was that he was also soft-spoken and shy, not quite used to advocating strongly enough for what he deserved.
Despite that, Emma found Steve gradually revealing a biting and sarcastic wit as he opened up to her, attributes that provided a perfect respite from the usual crushing nonsense that came with corporate life. Emma had even developed a bit of a crush on him their first months together, though as usual, an offhand comment eventually confirmed the initial pings on her gaydar—why was it the only worthwhile guys liked dudes?
“Hey listen…” Emma said, leaning in closer than usual. “What would you say if I said I had a crazy plan to get that guy to keep his trap shut for good?”
Steve smiled. At 5′6″ with a scrawny build, he was far from the type who turned heads like Hugh, but he had a smile that could light up a room, particularly when he was feeling mischievous…
“I’d say I’m in. How crazy?”
Emma leaned in and whispered…
Meeting for lunch later than usual—better timed to suit Hugh’s schedule—Emma and Steve took up residence in the nearby break room, laying their trap. Since so much of the office was out, Emma had determined that today presented the optimum opportunity—there were few better chances of getting Hugh alone somewhere where they might not be disturbed.
Eating slowly to maximize their time, the two kept up their usual string of chit-chat. It wasn’t far off from a typical lunch break the two often shared, but for the butterflies in Emma’s stomach. Everything seemed normal now, but she had a hat trick to pull shortly…
At a little past 1:00—as usual—Hugh wandered in to grab his things. “What’s up, Steve-o?” he asked, once again employing a nickname Steve had explicitly asked him not to use on several occasions. “Hey Em, hope you didn’t feel I was trying to make you look bad earlier—just tryin’ to make sure all our T’s are dotted and I’s are crossed, you know?” Emma breathed in, trying to refrain from her natural instinct to correct him—what an absolute and colossal doofus.
“Well, now that you mention it, it did almost seem like that…” she said, joking-not-joking. She had no idea why she was giving him this sudden, last opening to own up to what he’d done. Perhaps it was a niggling sense of guilt on her part for the trap she was about to spring. Somehow, the words had just slipped out, offering the guy one last shot at redemption.
“Well, you shouldn’t see it like that. I’m just looking out for the best interests of the company, you know?”
“Right,” Emma smiled again. The brass ring had sailed by without Hugh even attempting to grab it. Fuck this guy.
“Anyway, like I was saying…” Emma turned back to Steve. The trick here was to try to make it sound like they were in the middle a conversation, despite it actually being a pivot: “I’ve been finding a lot of really good YouTube videos on things like presenting more confidently. There’s ASMR, hypnosis, NLP—”
Rummaging in the fridge, Hugh abruptly rose, staring at the two with a smirk. “Woahhh, there. What kinda nonsense are you filling my team’s heads with?”
“I’m sorry, we weren’t really talking to you—” Emma started.
“Hypnosis? NLP? You know all that TV psychology crap is bull, right? Steve-o, if you’re looking to get more confident, I’ll be happy to give you some pointers. All you gotta do is believe in yourself, man. Determine what you want, speak up, and just go in for the kill.”
“Thanks, but it’s not BS,” Steve said, softly though a bit firmer than usual. “Emma even knows how to hypnotize. Don’t you, Em?” As a matter of fact, this had been news to Steve as of about 30 minutes ago, but it apparently was the truth. Emma had dabbled in hypnotism a fair amount in college: mostly just goofing with friends at parties, but she’d gotten pretty good at it.
“I mean, it’s not really something I bring up much, but I do have a certificate.” That part was a lie, but Hugh didn’t need to know. Knowing how to hypnotize wasn’t something most people put on their resume.
Hugh snorted. “Oh, now this I’d love to see. Why don’t you show us? Steve, I’ll let you clock an hour of OT if you guys can convince me.”
“If you’re so smart why don’t you try?” Emma said. “It’s much easier to go under when you’re open, but I’ve always found there’s no way to convince a skeptic like personal experience.”
Hugh snorted again. “Right. Like I need you making me quack like a duck in front of Jensen.”
“I thought this BS didn’t work?” Emma said.
“It doesn’t,” replied Hugh, his braggadocio slipping a bit. “I just don’t have time to end up with you pranking me, that’s all. For all I know you two are up to something. Who else is in here, anyway?” Hugh made a point of looking around and calling out performatively, “Hey, yoo-hoo! Come out with your camera! I’m not ending up on Tiktok.”
“No jokes. No tricks. I won’t even make you quack like a duck,” Emma said. Once more, she could see his confidence waver. “Swear to god—if it works, I’ll make it so you’re extra confident.”
Indecision furrowed Hugh’s brow. “This is such bull…” he muttered. “You got my back, Steve-o?” he asked, finally capitulating. Steve grinned eagerly and nodded.
“All right, Lewis, you got five minutes,” he stated, yanking out a chair and plopping down backwards, legs splayed and elbows resting on the back. Emma rolled her eyes. Not only was he sitting like a dick, but she hated when he called her by her last name.
“Not like that,” she sighed. “Turn it around. Sit in a normal fashion and make yourself comfortable.”
Sighing theatrically, Hugh stood, turned the chair, plopped down, and leaned back, still manspreading.
“Feet flat on the floor, legs in front of you, hands on your thighs. Just close your eyes and relax.”
Hugh sighed like a petulant child, once again repositioned himself, and sat back, eyes closed.
“Good. Now draw in a deep breath,” Emma said. Hugh did, his stout chest rising powerfully, straining at the buttons of his dress shirt. Both Emma and Steve couldn’t help but stare. Hugh may have been an asshole, but his V-frame did fill out a shirt perfectly.
“Very good, Hugh. Now just listen to the sound of my voice. I want you to let everything fade away but the sound of my voice. It may help you to focus on your breathing while you do. That’s okay. You can let everything fade away but those two things: breathing, and the sound of my voice. In and out, in and out, a perfect pair: breathing, and the sound of my voice. With every breath you take, feel my words flow inside you. Every time you exhale, feel the tension leave your body. That’s it… In and out, in and out… deep… relaxing… nothing but your beathing… and the sound of my voice…”
Emma paused briefly, surveying her prey. This was a critical moment: if it seemed like Hugh was really slipping into trance, now was the time to take him deeper; however, if it didn’t seem to be working, she risked losing him if she proceeded too quickly.
Thankfully, Hugh seemed to be falling into the rhythm Emma expected: his deep breaths continued even without her instruction, his chest rising and falling evenly, up and down. She could move to the next phase.
“Very good, Hugh. Now, I want you to imagine yourself at the top of a flight of stairs—in fact, you’re three stories up now. We’re going to start taking you down these stairs, and the further you go, the more comfortable and relaxed you’re going to feel. Just continue concentrating and moving with me, and we’ll get you all the way to the bottom in no time. That’s good. Deep breath in for me…”
Emma slowly started walking Hugh down the flights, all while Steve stood off to the side, gaping in awe. It was astonishing to watch his cocky boss melt into Emma’s words: the way his soft, wet lips—Dick Sucker’s Lips, he joked with his friends—parted ever so slightly; the way his stout, muscular frame began to lean to one side. Almost before Steve realized it, his handsome boss had melted nearly halfway over, and Emma was snapping straight into his ear, tugging gently on his broad shoulder, and pulling him down, whispering softly, “Take that last step down… That’s right, straight into that soft, warm bed…”
And suddenly, Hugh had completely keeled over, collapsed into his own lap, out like a light. Emma breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a number of years since college, and her hypnotism days were mostly behind her. But it turned out it was like riding a bike—once a Svengali, always a Svengali.
Now, she had to test and make sure he wasn’t faking. Looking around, she tried to spy anything she could use to help prove Hugh was under.
“Hey Steve, grab me one of those bananas,” she said, pointing to the basket of fruit the company left out and breaking the spell she’d cast on her friend.
“Jesus, shit—is he really under?” Steve asked, grabbing a banana from the basket.
“Hold on to it a sec,” Emma said, waving the object away. “We’re about to find out…
“Hugh…,” Emma said, leaning in and whispering in his ear, “in just a moment, you’re going to awaken and see Steve holding a banana…”
It took only 30 seconds for Emma to give her commands, before, with a snap of her fingers, Hugh was rising back up in his seat, blinking his eyes and seeming none the worse for wear. Looking around, he spotted the banana in Steve’s hand. “Hey, lookin’ to get a little potassium there, Steve-o?” he asked. Steve nodded, still at a loss for words at what he was watching.
“You ever eaten one of these bad boys? I can show you—they’re kinda complex,” Hugh offered, seeming totally serious. Steve extended his hand, curious to see what Emma had done to him.
“Now, the thing about bananas, is you really gotta get them softened up before you can peel them,” said Hugh, holding out the everyday piece of fruit like he was lecturing a five-year-old. “So, I find, it’s generally best to moisten them up a bit…” he continued, bringing the banana to his lips and wrapping them around the end. Closing his eyes, Emma’s nemesis and Steve’s hunky boss began expertly fellating the thing, taking nearly half the long yellow object straight down his throat. Emma laughed while Steve blushed crimson—obviously he knew she’d done this as a trick for him, but he didn’t think Emma knew how often he’d dreamed of something like this—albeit not with a banana. Steve shifted uncomfortably, unable to take his eyes off Hugh’s show, but desperate to hide the rapidly growing bulge in his trousers.
“All right, Hugh, I think he gets it. Why don’t you take your seat and sleep?” Emma asked. Hugh, already sitting, collapsing instantly. The banana tumbled to the floor.
“I don’t know if you wanna eat it,” Emma laughed, picking up the banana and handing it back to Steve. Steve just set it on a nearby table, slack-jawed.
“All right, I guess we know he’s susceptible. Now, let’s mete out a little justice…” Emma said, leaning in again.
Steve watched as she whispered softly in Hugh’s ear. Steve had never imagined something like this before, but suddenly, it was turning him on like nothing else: the idea of having his hunky, asshole boss suddenly rendered completely docile and submissive was almost too much for him to handle. He thought of asking Emma to throw in a few bonus commands—maybe something to get Hugh to kiss him or feel him up or even just stop calling him “Steve-o”—but somehow, it seemed wrong. Of course, the whole thing seemed wrong, but right now, Emma was in the driver’s seat. Steve knew he was still aiding and abetting, but somehow, that didn’t seem quite so complicit as suggesting Stupid Human Tricks of his own. Part of him was still afraid Hugh might pop up any minute laughing and tell them it was all a joke—that he had been recording the whole thing and was on his way to tell Jensen or HR.
Finally finished with her next spate of programming, Emma snapped her fingers and Hugh once more rose up, again seeming totally unaware he’d just been passed out like a ragdoll. He looked around expectantly: “So, Lewis, we gonna get this clown show on the road or what?”
“Actually, Hugh, I was thinking… maybe I wasn’t giving your suggestion enough credit during that meeting. Maybe I just don’t get some of the higher-level stuff SofTech is capable of. Do you mind ex—”
“Oh yeah, well, SofTech is a data analytics aggregator, so I’ve been using the API to…” Hugh took off, overconfident as usual. But unlike usual, he also rose out of his chair, turned around, unzipped his slacks and pulled his pants down, shaking his firm, bare ass back and forth as he continued:
“…so I’ve just been using a simple export function to dump all that data into .csvs, then having some of my peons do the visualization…” he continued, obnoxiously alluding to the pointless manual labor he’d foisted on Steve and his team over the past several weeks.
Finally coming to the end of his tear, Hugh seemed to snap back to reality and leapt out of his squat, yanking his pants over his ass and whirling around.
“What the fuck?! I- I’m sorry!” he yelped, frantically zipping and tucking his shirt in. “Oh my god. I don’t know why I did that. I was just fucking around. I’m really sorry.”
“God, Hugh, that’s really inappropriate. I could get you called into HR for that,” Emma smirked, as Steve gaped in awe. As much as he hated his super, he wasn’t too proud to admit he’d whacked off in the shower more than once imagining Hugh’s hot naked bod. The fact he’d just gotten to see his boss’ toned, tight ass in the middle of the office breakroom had him flushing redder than before, and crossing his legs desperately.
“I promise that won’t ever happen again. I don’t know what came over me. Gotta be low blood sugar or something,” Hugh babbled, desperately trying to talk his way out of the nightmare scenario in which he found himself.
“I don’t see why blood sugar would have anything to do with it,” Emma said, baiting him.
“Actually, blood sugar levels have a huge impact on mental performance,” Hugh countered. Or at least, that was what he meant to say. Instead, what came out was, “Actually, I have to take a shit.”
Steve snorted, taken completely by surprise and trying to hold back his laughter so his boss wouldn’t know anything was up. Emma just continued smirking.
“If you need to use the bathroom, you can go ahead,” she said sweetly.
“No… I… Fuck. I must need a candy bar or something,” Hugh said, suddenly sweating profusely. What the hell was going on today? Why did he keep doing these embarrassing things?
“How about a banana?” asked Steve, holding out the wet fruit, still dirty from the floor.
“Oh, sweet, thanks. Do you know how to soften these up?” asked Hugh, grabbing it. It was all the two could do to contain themselves as he began blowing it again, all the while turning around, dropping his pants and shaking his bare ass.
“I told him any time he saw you with a banana he’d want to show you the ‘right’ way to eat it,” Emma laughed.
“And I guess any time he mansplains he drops trou?” Steve added, still unable to look away from his boss’ toned rear.
“Yeah, even if it’s to another man,” Emma said. “Hey Hugh, banana’s soft now.” She snapped.
“Holy fuck!” Hugh yelped, dropping the fruit and wrenching his pants up again, buckling his belt at warp speed. He whirled, not even bothering to tuck in his shirt.
“I need to go home…” he groaned, face no longer red but now ashen pale. “I’ll call out sick…”
“Are you sure? Jensen’s cracking down on sick days,” Emma said.
“Actually, I have to take a shit,” Hugh corrected, before clamping his hand over his mouth. How the fuck had “that email only applies to contractors” come out like that?
“Well, do what you gotta do,” Emma said. “But first, why don’t you take a seat and sleep?”
Eyes growing just the tiniest bit glassy, Hugh returned to his chair, sat down, and instantly slumped over. Emma broke into a broad grin. Steve stood flabbergasted. “Jesus. He’s really hypnotized,” he murmured.
“You’re goddamn right he is. Told you I was the master. How’d you like my adjustments?”
“Damn. They’ll definitely learn him a thing or two. You’re not really gonna go through with it, though, are you?” he asked. Honestly, he was still breathless just from the view of his boss’ ass, but a part of him felt bad taking advantage like this, even if the guy was an asshole.
“Goddamn right I will. But nothing that happens won’t be of his own doing,” Emma said, rising from her chair. She strode over to her sleeping coworker and laid a hand on his broad, slumped shoulder:
“Now Hugh, I want you to listen to me: in just a moment, I’m going to count to three and snap my fingers, and you’re going to awaken. The moment you do, any conscious memory of what happened here today will vanish from your mind. You will be absolutely convinced it didn’t work and you were never hypnotized. You’ll forget all the commands I’ve given you, and go about your day like normal. When you notice your shirt is untucked, you’ll just tuck it in again and think that’s perfectly natural and nobody noticed. Nod if you understand.” The sleeping Hugh nodded serenely.
“A few more things: first, in addition to your other commands, continue to remember that any time I and only I tell you to ‘take a seat and sleep,’ you will continue to obey that command, finding the nearest empty chair, sitting down, and returning to this relaxed and obedient state, listening only to my words. Nod if you understand.” Again, Hugh nodded.
“Finally, if anyone you know in this office should ever correct you by beginning a sentence with the phrase, ‘Oh, honey,’ you will become totally attentive, and whatever they say will immediately fix your perception of reality and become unimpeachable truth. Nod if you understand.” Hugh nodded a third time. “That should cover our ass if he gets out of line,” Emma winked.
“All right, Hugh. At the count of three, I’m going to snap my fingers, and you’re going to awaken from trance, refreshed, alert, and totally convinced you were not hypnotized, but remembering and obeying perfectly all your subconscious commands. Nod if you understand.” Hugh nodded one last time.
“Very good, Hugh. Drawing in a nice, deep breath for me now. One… That’s good. Let it out. Feel a rush of energy flood your body… Two. Very good. Feeling more refreshed and aware. And at the count of three, no recollection of any of this… Three. Wide awake.” Emma snapped, instantly rousing Hugh from his stupor.
“Well Lewis? You ready to get started or what?” he asked.
“That was it,” Emma replied. “Guess it didn’t work.”
“Shit, really? Well, it was relaxing, anyhow. I told you though—it’s just meditation. Buncha New Age nonsense,” Hugh said, standing up and tucking his shirt in, then smoothing it out.
“I’ve seen news articles that say it’s scientifically proven,” said Steve, wanting to take one more crack at Emma’s triggers.
“Pfft, those are bogus,” Hugh laughed.
“Actually, they’re not,” said Steve, a bit more forcefully, frustrated Hugh hadn’t taken his bait.
“Actually, I have to take a shit,” Hugh said firmly, before his eyes suddenly bugged out and he clamped his hand over his mouth. “Stupid joke,” he covered, shaking his head and laughing it off. “I’ll catch you two later. Wrap things up in here, Steve-o, there’s only five minutes left for lunch,” he added, clearly trying to pull rank as he started out the door.
“Oh, honey,” Steve said, more forcefully this time. Hugh seemed to freeze in position, turning slowly and staring at him.
“I’ve actually got a half-hour left on break. And don’t you know I’m Mr. Reyes to you?” Steve asked, staring his handsome boss down.
Hugh blinked, scrutinizing him. For just a second, Steve’s heart—and Emma’s too, for that matter—was in his throat. He couldn’t help but wonder if Emma’s trick had really worked. He had never spoken so authoritatively to his boss.
Hugh blinked again, and nodded. “Of course. Sorry, Mr. Reyes. I’ll see you at 2:30.” Hugh turned to head back toward the door.
“Oh, honey,” Steve added, taking a step forward. Hugh turned around again. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to crab-walk out of here?” Steve asked.
Nodding serenely, mouth slightly ajar, Hugh popped a squat, fell back gently, caught himself on his palms and slowly scuttled back toward the door. Reaching up, he awkwardly managed to maneuver the handle and squeeze through, letting it close behind him. The second he left, the tension in the room burst, and both Emma and Steve collapsed into laughter. Her plan had worked! It seemed like things were about to get a lot more interesting for the office know-it-all…
It didn’t take long for the two to notice the effects of Emma’s scheme. As Hugh’s subordinate, Steve was in a much better position to witness them first-hand, and barely an hour or two had elapsed before he noticed Hugh, trying, as usual, to flirt with a few of the women the department over, quickly start making a fool of himself, popping his buns out of his slacks and loudly proclaiming his need to defecate several times before dashing off in embarrassment. A meeting with HR followed, and, as far as Steve and Emma could ascertain, hadn’t gone well: any attempt by Hugh to protest had quickly devolved into another orgy of mooning and proclamations about his excretory functions, and he was placed on sabbatical—paid, typically, Emma noted—for a week to sort himself out. When he returned, Hugh seemed like a different person: he largely spoke only when spoken to, and refrained from ever offering an unsolicited opinion. Who knew what the past week’s adventures outside of work had held, but they’d clearly left him chastened.
Needless to say, Emma had gotten the promotion, and made a strong and persuasive argument for Steve to take her old position. That meant, of course, that he was now parallel to and frequently had to take meetings with his former boss. By this point, Hugh was developing a new reputation as one of the firm’s most professional supervisors: quiet and contemplative, he was always open to receiving feedback without a word of challenge or criticism.
So marked was Hugh’s change, in fact, that Emma almost never found a need to employ her “Oh, honey” command to make further adjustments, and she’d never needed to put Hugh under hypnosis again. As far as she knew, with a few simple tweaks, the formerly obnoxious manager had been effectively trained to police himself, and she’d never had to pass the trick on to any of her coworkers.
As a matter of fact, aside from one or two stray instances when Emma determined Hugh needed one last attitude adjustment, there was only one other time—unbeknownst to her—when Hugh’s final trigger had been invoked. This was after a pre-lunch strategy conference between Hugh, Mr. Jensen and “Mr. Reyes,” where the company scion had left the two managers to hash out the remaining details while he left to take a call. With just a few things to go over, Steve, feeling peckish, had decided to crack into his lunch early, opening the brown sack he’d brought without a thought to the fact he’d added a banana from the breakroom. As he laid the fruit on the table, Steve suddenly realized he’d forgotten all about that part of his and Emma’s lunchtime escapade as he noticed Hugh eyeing it intently, his newfound self-discipline conflicting with his programmed desire to mansplain.
It was little question what won out in the end. “Hey, Mr. Reyes, let me show you how to eat one of those,” Hugh said, grabbing the banana without asking and plopping the end in his mouth.
Cocking his head skyward, Hugh left the fruit bobbing up and down as he reached down to unbuckle his belt, lower his pants, turn around and give “Mr. Reyes” one more view of his backside. Smirking to himself as his former boss stood there, blowing a piece of fruit while mooning him obliviously, Steve couldn’t help but think that, as wonderful as things had been around here since Emma played her trick on Hugh, there might still be room for improvement. Like Hugh said, now that Steve had determined what he wanted, it was time to speak up and go in for the kill. It was time to do a little mansplaining of his own.
“Oh, honey…” Steve smiled, reaching down and unzipping his pants as Hugh turned expectantly.
“Don’t you know that’s not a banana?”