He smiles. “You’re beautiful.” Her face is red and quiet. “I gotta get outta this. You got what you need?”
Her shyness starts to subside. “Yes. Thank you honey.”
Hoi bolts down the hall wondering how much he’ll be charged if he tears the suit off. Before the door to the guest bathroom even shuts he’s jammed the zipper from his aggressive tugs. He peels it as far as he can as if it’s suffocating him, but it gets caught up on his firm bulge. He tries the zipper again, but can’t get it off. Frustrated he turns the water on and then rips the suit. He can’t kick it far enough across the bathroom. He throws his soaked socks and boxers in disgust and jumps in the shower. The water’s chill stings, but calms his irritation. It washes through his black hair, the pulsing bass still pounding in his ears. He strokes to relieve an excitement he never expected.
Hoi leans against the wall for support nearing the threshold for pent up pressure. His head rests against his hand and the tile as his other hand works the tension. The release comes with a low filtered groan. Spent and feeling a little weak, he lets the wall support him completely. He caresses his balls catching a breath, and opens his eyes to a mess all over the faucet and a loofa that swings from the shower caddy. He rinses the faucet, but stops to pick up the pink loofa. Monica had it in her hand when she was unpacking yesterday.
Hoi reaches for the body wash, and goes about cleaning the sweat from his body trying to ignore the spoiled poof. After a moment he turns off the water, steps out to dry off, and leaves the bathroom as he found it except for the loofa.
October 30th - Sunday
It’s 2:30 a.m. when the phone rings. Hoi’s eyes flash to the clock. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, only lying there for an hour after Tristan passed out. He rolls out of bed to catch the phone before it rings again, and says nothing as he punches in the code. He can hear their drunken giggles as he hangs up. Hoi slips on his house shoes and drags the lead weights across the apartment to unlock the front door. Monica and Alex shuffle in embarrassed.
“So sorry Hoi,” Monica says.
“Shh,” Hoi whispers, motioning towards his bedroom.
“Shit. So sorry,” she whispers.
Alex nods and laughs as he dances off to the bathroom with urgency. Monica attempts to unhook her cape from its clips several times before slinging it across the back of a chair, not acknowledging Hoi still standing there. The room is only lit by the city’s lights filtering through the bay window and a fake battery candle that flickers on a shelf like a night-light. It catches her attention, sparking a snicker and hiccup. When her eyes are back on Hoi he’s smiling, assessing her disheveled appearance. She starts to feel uneasy.
I shouldn’t have taken that off yet. This is awkward. Think he notices my panties are torn? My hands are covering sort of. His chest is nice. No hair. That must be nice. Stop saying nice. The room’s startin’ ta spin. Oh wow. His abs flex as he breathes. Holy shit! I had no idea he was strong. That’s why she’s got that locked up. Hmm. Understand that... god those abs are amazing!
“Fuck,” she blurts at full volume.
“Shh,” Alex whispers loudly, giggling as he flings his arms around her. She covers her mouth curbing a laugh before he takes it to shut her up.
Hoi isn’t sure if her outburst was for him or maybe Alex, but he turns to listen for Tristan. She doesn’t make any sounds so he turns back to their friends. They’re back to making out against the couch completely lost and ignoring him. He steps backwards and waves as the air gets sticky and thick. They’ve long forgotten about their host and his eyes that drift into the dark hallway. The sound of beads clanking together rustles as Alex lifts her dress and tears the last shred of panties off right there on the arm of the couch. Hoi is both appalled and impressed at their nerve.
“You want it here?” Alex’s volume is loud enough to keep Hoi lingering in the darkness. He’s never seen people so oblivious to appropriate boundaries.
“I want you, but we should go in the bathroom. We can close the door,” she says.
Alex shakes his head and unlatches the belt that was holding the bundle of fabric around him. He peels off the Roman uniform revealing a very naked and aroused body underneath. Only the sandals Monica insisted on weaving around his calves remain. She hoists the mesh dress over her head before he can detonate a flurry of beads all over the living room, and leans back still in the metallic gold bra, black pageboy wig, and elaborate necklace.
Hoi wants to touch the mystical Egyptian goddess just a few feet away, but he’s pretty certain that Alex’s inebriation will only increase his power and aggression. The reputation and past Tristan has painted kinda scares the shit out of him. In fact just being caught in the hallway might leave him black and blue, but there’s about to be an irresistible show in his home, so fuck it. He looks back towards the bedroom. Tristan sleeps very still so he pulls the door nearly closed and tiptoes back to his perch.
Alex slides Cleopatra’s bra down her bare stomach, standing before his queen.
God you’re beautiful.
He runs his finger along the top of her nipple, firming in the cold air, then leans forward to take it into his mouth. His intention at first is to be gentle, but deviates on impact, taking as much breast as he could fit into his mouth. Alex’s eager fingers are welcomed between her thighs with a moan, lifting her completely off the arm of the sofa with a thrust.
The room is still spinning so she locks her hands around his shoulders. The drunken intensity and brute force brings her to the edge of reality. A growing pulse starts as she catches a glimpse of something in the darkness.
Oh Quinn... are you watching me baby? Come for me.
The pounding tingles through her pussy as she thinks of his eyes.
“Ohh... yes...” she whispers to the darkness. Hugging Alex’s head tight to her breast she comes in his rough hands. The memories flood in.
Don’t you miss me? I miss you. I miss the way you tasted. The way you would suck these. Oh Quinn... if you were here... I’m drunk.
Everything stops with a creak of a door in the hallway. Hoi is frozen in his room as Tristan rustles awake.
“Hoi? Is that you?” she says turning over to see an empty bed.
“Yeah. They just got in. Had to let them in.”
“Oh. Assholes.”
“Shh,” he laughs.
“I hope they hear me. Assholes.”
“You love her,” he says, climbing in bed.
“I know.” She rolls over on to his chest as he settles to hold him tight.
He leans down to kiss her. Still half asleep, she gives in to more heat than usual until she feels his enthusiasm. Her eyes widen as he guides her hand under the blanket to feel his erection. She starts stroking gently until he takes her lips firmly and rolls on top. He makes quick work of removing her nightgown before heading south for a taste. Tristan tries to cover herself as the cold air blisters across her body, but he pins her hands into the mattress. He’s never been so determined to take her. All the pent up frustration from the night has come to head and he needs this.
Hoi takes her mouth into his, still holding her to the bed. Tristan can taste her juices on his tongue. She’s always surprised by how much it turns her on. His little caveman actions tap into a fantasy she’s secretly been having for months. They’ve always made slow, sweet, gentle love. Since the first awkward time they had sex, they’ve never deviated from the missionary position. Tristan worried that getting pregnant while fucking like savages would taint her ridiculous fantasy of a sweet fairytale conception. But not anymore. This was not baby-making sex. Hoi was pounding into her hard, and she was loving it. She felt full and slightly violated as he used her body in a fevered fit. The strongest orgasm of her life pulses through, sparking him to come hard.
Sunlight rolls in and out of the morning fog as Alex’s eyes peel open. Monica groans as pain shoots through her pounding skull.
“What time?” Alex mutters.
Monica reaches for her phone, but can’t see anything. Her swollen eyes pry open. The pasty mouth doesn’t function so she shows it to him.
“Shit,” he says. “It’s 10:18. We gotta get up and shower and shit. Come on.”
Monica tries to get up, but her pounding head knocks her back into the pillow.
“Oh babe. I know... but we gotta get up. I’ll go get some Advil.” Alex gets up and stumbles into the bathroom. His rummaging is loud and wakes Tristan. He returns with some pills and places them in her hand.
Monica reaches for a glass of water and swallows hard.
Ow.
She gets up and holds the couch for support. She quickly realizes she’s naked and looks around for something to put on. There’s only a shredded pair of panties and the pile of tangled bead work that was a dress on the floor. She moves towards her overnight bag while Alex watches with loving amusement. He stands buck naked with no reservations about his exposure through the bay window, or regard for the living room as Tristan walks in wearing a robe over pajamas.
“Oh God!” she screams.
Alex laughs using one hand to cover his cock and the other to throw a mocking morning wave. Her eyes try not to wander, but end up following his happy trail up and down. Alex is in excellent shape these days, which his flexing traps demonstrate as he shrugs his shoulders.
“Sorry Tristan. If you give me a minute, I’ll hit the shower.”
“So sorry Tris,” Monica says, trying to use her bag to cover her own nudity. “We’ll get dressed and out of your hair.” Each word is delivered with obvious pain.
“Sorry. Take all the time you need,” Tristan says running back into her room. She peeks as she closes the door, seeing Alex walk to the bathroom fully amused. She never thought hairy men were sexy, but Alex has a rugged Jason Statham thing going on that flusters her. Hoi flips over and looks at her standing next to the door.
“I just saw them naked,” she whispers.
“Yeah, they seem to be open with that sort of thing.”
“You saw them?”
“They were clawing at each other last night when I let them in.”
“Is that why you were all worked up?”
He smiles into the pillow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay... they have to go to the airport in a couple hours. We should probably grab breakfast before heading that way.”
Within an hour everyone is dressed and bags are packed. Not much has been said but they all agree to eat at the little coffee shop across the street. The waitress brings drinks as they sit in uncomfortable silence. Someone had to break the ice.
“What happened to that artist neighbor guy?” Tristan asks.
Hoi shoots her a look, clearly not a fan of her question. Alex looks at Monica with some confusion as she tries to think of something to say.
Bitch. You had to ruin it. Why?
“Not sure. He moved.” Monica says. Her eyes swim in her tea cup as her mood drowns.
“How did his show go?” Tristan asks before sipping her coffee.
Reluctantly Hoi joins in and says to Monica, “Yeah, we went to see it the week you left. His work is beautiful.”
Alex looks at Monica’s discomfort and jumps in. “It went well right?” he says.
Monica’s surprise and relief by his willingness to play along washes over her. “Yeah. Everything sold.”
“That’s great!” Hoi adds. “I liked him. Did you like his work?” he asks Alex.
Alex looks at Monica. “Yes. And he gave us a painting before he left. I love it.”
Tristan looks irritated by Alex’s nonchalance towards the man. She sips her coffee with no further questioning.
“We should apologize for last night,” Monica says. Tristan starts choking as Hoi jumps to caress her back with his attentive hands. “I know we were drunk and a nuisance. It wasn’t the way we planned it.” Her cheeks flush thinking about Alex’s Roman role-playing.
“We really had fun yesterday with you,” Alex adds, “before the party. I’ve wanted to spend time with you guys after all these years.” His sincerity makes Tristan’s anger fizzle.
Hoi can tell she’s finally melting. “We’ve really enjoyed it too. I just wish you guys lived here. We don’t have many friends who are couples.”
Tristan’s eyes fill as she looks at Monica. “I do miss you.”
Monica leans into her ear. “I know you’re pissed about last night, but I don’t regret feeling close to him. I’m only sorry it upset you.”
It’s enough to send Tristan over the edge. She wraps her arms around Monica and holds her tight whispering, “I just worry about you.”
“I know.”
“And you do piss me off,” Tristan adds now laughing through her tears.
Monica joins in and wipes away the wetness from her friend’s cheeks. “Join the club.” They share another squeeze.
“You two okay over there?” Alex teases.
“We’re good,” Monica says.
They finish their breakfast and head to the airport where loving goodbyes reflect the forgotten spiral of events. Alex and Monica walk into the airport holding hands.
“Thanks for jumping in at breakfast. She was trying to be a bitch out of spite.”
“I know,” he says. Alex’s hand loosens its grip and Monica feels a shift in mood.