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“Yep.” Physically anyway. Well, my salivary glands are in overdrive, but that’s my new normal around him.
He disappears into the bathroom, and the shower starts up again.
Now what?
Despite the fall, what I most want to do is dial my rotary phone once more—and knowing Art is in the shower just makes it worse.
The problem is, I have no idea how long his showers take. The last thing I want is to get caught again.
Maybe I can just fall asleep?
I close my eyes. The air purifier hums soothingly next to the bed, and under normal circumstances, I’d be out already. But these circumstances are anything but normal.
I open my eyes in frustration.
What makes this extra annoying is this weird conviction I have that Art is stroking Mr. Big in the shower. I have no idea how or why I’ve decided this. Maybe it’s one of those dreams that slide through your mind as you fall asleep. Or maybe all these hormones have awakened my latent ESP powers. Either way, I’m so certain he’s jerking off I can practically see it through the walls. In vivid IMAX detail.
Inconsiderate bastard. Whatever happened to “what’s good for the goose is good for the gander?”
Maybe I should knock on the door and tell him to quit it?
The shower stops.
Lucky. He probably just came. How nice that must be.
The door opens, and Art tiptoes into the room.
He thinks I’ve fallen asleep? Maybe it’s best to pretend that I have.
He quietly slides under the blanket on the other side of the bed.
I swallow, hard. Despite the shower and the air purifier’s best efforts, I can still detect that telltale Art scent, and it doesn’t help my sexual frustration in the slightest.
He turns onto his side, facing away from me.
An avalanche of fantasies assaults my poor brain. In most, I scoot over and reach for Mr. Big as a starting point.
He turns toward me.
The fantasies now start with a kiss.
He flops onto his back.
Wow. Is that the blanket tenting? Maybe I was wrong about what he did in the shower? Or maybe I wasn’t wrong, but he recovers quickly? What am I saying? I know he recovers fast. I saw it on video.
He turns away from me again.
How high is his metabolism? I feel heat radiating off of him in waves.
He turns toward me.
I sigh. I’ll never fall asleep like this.
He goes still.
Oops.
“You up?” he whispers.
