Accident.
Sunday January 25, 2009
Her hair stood on end and crackled and everything smelled like a thunderstorm had just rolled through, fresh and clean and sharp. She quickly stuffed the remote control in the pocket of her battered dungarees. There were two of him on the bed, just like she’d thought there’d be.
Two of them, naked, entangled. Two sets of eyes blinking sleepily up at her. Two hands entwined as two hands push against the floor boards. Two groans. A belly against the bare white cushions and a belly rolling over in the air as two knees hit the floor by two knees bending and pushing up. Two of those cocks flopping not quite loosely as his mouth and his mouth both quirked up in that reckless little smile that sent her heart looping.
“Christ,” he said, and “Fuck,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I must have pressed the wrong button or something. During the gating. I mean, I didn’t mean to.”
“Uh huh,” he said, and “An accident,” he said. “Uh huh.”
“Honest,” she said.
He was sitting there on the cushions, beside himself. One of him put his hand on the other’s knee. They were both looking at her. Neither smile had quite gone away, so she stepped closer to them, and couldn’t not smile herself.
“What am I going to do with myself?” he said at the same time, and she laughed as he grabbed her by the pants, as he grabbed her T-shirt, she laughed as he kissed her throat and he kissed her belly, she laughed as he lifted the shirt free and unbuttoned her pants, yanking them rudely down her legs.
“We’ll think of something,” she said.