Hot Friday Night

It was a real boy's house, last night. David and I had guys around. Shane had mates around he was going to an exhibition with.

Kane asked who the people were, as we looked up from the couch.

I have no idea, I said.

He laughed, said he'd never been in a house like it.

It was a hot night, we had all the doors open.

Randy Crawford sang the blues.

David cooked for the four of us.

I had sex all night with Kane. My lips hurt.

He looked so handsome, looking up at me from the mattress.

We smoked pot on the balcony, even Kane. He doesn't smoke.

"Just have some, you baby," I said. I held it to his lips.

He inhaled. He exhaled. "Now what?" he asked.

"Have more," I said.

He inhaled again.

So now I'm pushing my vices.

We came inside for round 2. He's certainly eager and good at it.

He even went home, late, without wanting to stay the night. He's just about perfect.

The fan whirred. Revellers yelled in the street. I slept with a sheet.