After The Party©2007 James Buchanan
Strains of Big Bad Voodoo Daddy blared from the radio in the kitchen. Chase threaded his way, carefully, though the obstacle course of discarded bottles and overturned furniture. The aftermath of last night’s party spread through the living room, dining room and out back toward the pool. Wild and wooly, echoes of last night thumped in his temples.
“BJ!” He shouted, surveying the damage, Chase shook his head and showered himself with bits of confetti still sprinkled in his hair. Holy shit the place was a mess. Their landlord would bust their heads in if he saw the place.
After a pause, where the swing music dropped a decibel in volume, a muffled “What?” answered from the kitchen.
Chase rolled his eyes at the world and stepped over what had once been a plaster statue of a greyhound. Making his way into the kitchen Chase stopped. BJ leaned against the counter, tight butt propped against the tiled edge. In his left hand he held a large mug of steaming coffee. His right was occupied by shoving the remnants of a slice of chocolate pecan pie in his mouth. Bolting it down, BJ’s tongue licked the last few crumbs off his full bottom lip. Boxer shorts decorated with martini glasses slid half off BJ’s hips. His broad chest, with golden hair feathered between dark nipples was bare.
Smiling over the brim as he raised his coffee mug, BJ asked again. “What?”
“Oh, nothing all that important.” Chase licked his lips. Coffee, pie and his guy; that might just cure a hang over.
Written by James Buchanan
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