The message on my service from Mark still hot in my ears.
"Hi, it's me. Listen, my in-laws are in town-- Eric's parents-- so I'll call you when they're gone, Mark. Hope you had a good vacation and...yes, acocktail-- would be great. Talk to you soon."
"You sure about this, Andy? I mean, I haven't seen your ass in years."
Greg's getting the biggest kick out of this stupid idea of his, me posing for some stupid pictures. I'm wondering why I'm doing this but every time I look into the main house and see Eric with his parents -- and Fran! -- I remember why.
Because even though Eric will never know about these photos -- I'll know that I sat naked in front of Greg -- for hours and that would drive Eric insane. Good, he's already certifiable!!
The shirt. Comes off.
"Take it all off, baby", jokes Greg, handing me a glass of wine. But under the joking, under the friendship and the simple truth that Greg needs these-- is something else.
Something hot. Something erotic.
The sneakers fly. One at time, one here, one there. Then the socks.
"Should I keep my socks on?"
"No, I want you. Just..you."
The socks go.
The jeans-- that I've had since Mark and sophomore year-- perfectly ripped, from real wear and tear that can show what color underwear I'm wearing if you know where to look...
Off.
In a heap.
Greg gasps.
He assumed I'd be wearing underwear. I guess he didn't look to see what color they were: flesh.
It's warm in here.
I'm in the chair, it's been a half hour in the nude now. The Chardonnay feels great, went straight to my head. I'm feeling nice, free. I look down. Down between my legs. Uh-oh...
Think ugly thoughts.
Think nasty, mean things.
Think of Eric and his parents!!
Oooooooooooooop, gone. There, that did the trick.
The camera clicks and clicks and clicks.
Damn Eric.
