I have no reason for this other than complete and total boredom as I am on bed rest for a few more weeks.

If you are looking for a serious plot look somewhere else… this is just plain crack. Self beta and I’m rusty. Leave me alone, I’m hormonal.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>..

I park on the street outside his gated neighborhood and sit uncomfortably in the car for what feels like hours. The walk up his stairs is longer and even more awkward then I imagined. It’s not too late for me to appear on his stoop, but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t even know where or how to begin this conversation.

A deep breath in and a loud knock out from my fist sets the night into play.

“Hey. What’s up my man?” he playfully asks while opening his front door up all the way.

“My wife asked me why your paintbrush was in our dryer,” I hurriedly say, holding out the remains of his once favorite brush.

“You washed and dried my baby? Chester, how could you?” his voice was leaking with relaxed grief.

“Apparently I’m an idiot and I forgot to give it back to you the other night.”

He looks up at me then back to his prized brush, “I knew you had it, asshole. I really needed it to finish that detail on the raven. What am I going to do now? It looks like you owe me a new one,” he takes the brush from my hand and into his own to further examine the damage, “you’ll have to take me shopping. Shopping and out to dinner. And quite possibly a movie with butter popcorn and Lemonheads.”

“Yeah well that’s the least of my problems.”

He doesn’t catch my serious tone. He pokes his bottom lip out.

“I’m officially hurt. You stole, broke and now won’t replace my sacred brush. Here I thought we were friends.”

“Yeah well…” I release a deep breath, “apparently we’re also fucking.”

He chokes and raises his eyes from the damaged bristles up to meet my swollen eyes, “say what?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You’ve loss me and quite possibly gave me a mild heart attack,“ he dramatically clutches his hand over his chest with an uncanny incredible bright smile donning his face.

He finds this funny. Great. This is just excellent.

“My crazy ass wife has came to the conclusion that since your

paintbrush mysteriously ended up in our dryer that it means that we are having an affair.”

“You’re serious?”

I hold up my overnight bag as emphasis.

“She kicked you out because you’re a klepto?”

“She started launching breakable shit at my head.”

“No way.”

“She’s gone mental. She said that we have been fucking behind her back for years.”

“Well that is news to me,” he laughs.

“I laughed too and told her she was insane. I tried to explain that I just took the brush from your kit. I told her I just meant to hide the brush from you when I was here on Tuesday. You wouldn’t stop painting and listen to me about those new lyrics I was working on, so I took it from you to get your attention and-”

“Why would she think any different over a paintbrush?” he laughs harder now.

“Go ask her. I’m done trying to make any sense out of the bitch. I stopped when she took at opportunity to throw that heavy ass vase from our kitchen table at my face.”

He stops laughing, “the one from Thailand?”

“Yeah that one.”

“Damn. You alright?”

“I was until the shot glasses started flying. A couple clipped me on the side of my face.”

I turn my head to the side to show him the gashes. He raises his hand up to cup my jaw, taking in a better inspection of the area.

“You’ll live. She’ll cool down. Everything will clear out in the morning.”

“Yeah well…I don’t think so,” I honestly tell him.

“Chester,” he draws my name out, slightly reprimanding me and dropping his hand from my face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I warn.

“What did you do? I don’t have to hide you from the police do I? After last time-”

“No, it’s just that I may or may not of said something.”

“Out with it.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Chester.”

“Okay. So I told her you were a better fuck than she was.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yeah, I kind of did.”

“Holy shit Chester!” He looks at me, lost.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wanted to piss her off. I’m done with her psychotic mood swings,” I try to explain my actions to him.

“She’s going to call Anna you realize.”

“Shit man. It didn’t even cross my mind. I was just so pissed at her. I’ll explain it to Anna. Honestly, you don’t really think she wouldn’t believe the bitch anyways. They never got along.”

“The divorce papers finalized last week so it doesn‘t really matter if she thinks it’s true or not.”

“I’m so sorry man. I didn’t mean to throw you under the bus. I just… She wouldn’t listen to reason and I finally just went along with it cause I just don‘t fucking care anymore. I‘ve never cheated on her. Fucking never - in the entire four years. You realize that I‘ve never been that fucking faithful? Oh man. Fuck me.”

“Not right now lover boy, maybe later if you’re good.”

“Oh shut the fuck up. I’m glad you still find this funny as hell. My life has turned to shit and you‘re laughing at me.”

“I’m just amazed you went along with it,” he continues to tease.

“I didn’t!” I argue.

“But you did. You could of just told me how you felt,” he squeezes my shoulder in the most annoying childish, painful mocking way possible.

“I’m not amused,” I deadpan, “man, Mike I tried to explain to her and she wouldn’t fucking listen. A fucking paintbrush, Mike. How in the hell does she think a paintbrush in a sign of an affair?”

“Maybe she thinks I fuck you with my paintbrushes,” he holds the handle up and makes a few crude jabbing movements.

“That is a disturbing image. One I will never shed. I wish you hadn’t gone there.”

“Could be fun.”

“I’m going to slap you.”

“Oh, so you like it rough?”

“I’m never going to live this down am I?” I all but cry.

His artist hand finds my wrist and he tugs me gently in to his living room, closing the front door with his foot.

“Hey don’t get upset. I was just trying to make you smile. I’ve got no fucking clue was she was thinking, but if she doesn’t trust you than she’s the one that’s at a loss.”

“It’s not the first time she has accused me of cheating,” I admit, looking down at my shoes.

“Maybe she is just insecure,” he leads us to his couch.

“Of a thirty five year old man that is my best friend?”

“Do you need to tell me something, Chester?” he teases, “because I’ve always wanted you to be my sex slave and if you feel the same….”

“Fuck you. I’m not having this conversation with you. I’m leaving,” I say, standing up off the shared couch.

“What am I not allowed to tease a little? Come on. Don’t go. I didn’t mean to piss you off. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to process this all. Maybe we’ve been too touchy for her liking? Hell, I don’t know.”

I sit back down, “Last July.”

“I’m listening…”

“She saw us kiss last July at Joe’s pool party.”

“I didn’t think you remembered,” he smiles out.

“She hasn’t let me forget.”

“So what about it? You were drunk off your ass.”

“I crammed my tongue down your throat.”

“Yeah…well…”

“I’m pretty positive that your hand was…”

“I don’t need a play by play. I was there.”

“She’s hounded me since.”

“I had no idea.”

“I just…”

“Tell her it was a dare. I mean it was just a kiss or two or ten,” he smiles and shrugs at his indifference.

“It’s been too long ago for her to believe that now. I told her that it was a drunken mistake.”

“It’s always a pleasure to be a drunken mistake.”

“Mike -”

“It’s fine. So what, we kiss every now and then. Fucking is a big leap from kissing, but seeing how I’ve moved up to ‘a better fuck than her’ now maybe there is some promise there.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Oh love, I don’t need to hear anything. I’m well aware of what you said before you kissed me,” he teases me again, only this time it really burns my soul.

“Fuck you. I’m tried of all this shit tonight. I‘m just going to go sleep on a park bench like a hobo.”

“Dramatic much?”

“I’m accused of a paintbrush affair and I’m the dramatic one?”

“You’re always dramatic,” he lightly punches me in the side, “park bench or not, you will still dream of me fucking you with my paintbrush.”

“I hate you. I really do.”

“Chester love, have a beer or two and you’ll say something totally different. You might even kiss me again,” he makes a ridiculous looking fish face at me.

“Highly doubtful dude.”

“I have to disagree. I’m totally irresistible.”

“Face it, Mike. It’s true because I’m never going to drink again around you.” I proclaim.

“You know that you are welcome to the guest room. I wouldn’t want the park pigeons shitting on your pretty little kissable head.”

“Thanks from saving me from the inevitable bird shit. I feel so loved.”

“What’s a best friend for if they can‘t save you from flying bird shit and delusional wives?”

He smiles at me, testing my patience.

“I’m pathetic.”

“I’m not interested in your self-pity and you know it.”

“How about my hunger?” I ask, wanting desperately to change the subject.

“There’s left over spaghetti in the fridge. You can grab a bowl and a beer. A couple of paintbrushes,” his voice looses it’s typical playfulness and gains a hint of husky deception.

“You are sadistic and I am slightly scared about your true intentions.”

The mood changes considerably.

“Who are you kidding? Think about it, it could be fun,” his lips ghost over my shoulder blade, wetting them.

His lips part and he bites down gently on my neck, sucking hard intervals up my defenseless throat.

He tentatively settles on my earlobe, pulling it in his intense mouth to nibble on before tonguing my gauge.

I gasp and turn to meet his lips in a open kiss.

“Oh, I think you could be persuaded without that beer,” he kisses me again, fully dominating me against the back of the couch.

I melt into the kiss, grabbing frantically at the back of his head.

He doesn’t relent. He continues to press me down in to the seat cushion.

His hand slides under the hem of my shirt and his fingers grip at my

ticklish sides.

I smile and he takes it as a sign of encouragement.

He slips the shirt over my head and attacks my nipples, teeth marks

surely mark deep in a circular pattern around each.

I gasp and arch up as he continues to flick his tongue down my stomach, spending time to kiss my belly button and tease his fingers up the side of my thighs through my tight jeans.

His hand runs dangerously close, but not directly on my fully hardened length.

“I… wait.”

He halts his movements and sighs into my crouch, forehead resting on my belt buckle, “Yes?”

“What are we doing?”

“I would of thought we were on the same page by now?”

“I don’t know about this.”

“You are the most frustrating person I know. What is there to think about Chester honestly?”

“You don’t understand!”

“I clearly don’t. I would of never thought you would be such a conservationist while someone is trying to get you off.”

“I can’t do a causal fuck with you.”

“You might of wanted to mention that earlier because at this point you’re just being a tease and I’m tempted to continue anyway.”

“You would do that?”

“No, of course not,” he gets up from between my legs and straightens his shirt out, “but a damn chick isn’t this chatty. What is bothering you? We’ve been dancing around this for years.”

“My wife.”

“Oh.”

“No, I mean she said something else tonight too.”

“Something else that prompted World War III at your house?”

“She said...she said that I am in love with you.”

“This is news to you? You should really catch up with yourself sometime.”

“Mike!” I say as he leans back on me, kissing me full on the lips again.

“Get over it. I love you too. Now drop your pants and give me that paintbrush over there.”