I was having lunch with Dorian, Gus and Michelle in a high ceilinged kitchenette, at a table in front of a peaked window, a slight breeze gusting the thin, gauzy curtains. We'd already finished our sandwiches, and were just shooting the shit; and a strange, almost metallic sound kept whooshing intermittently. I was talking animatedly while Dorian hazed off with this kind of dopey, bemused look. Out the window, it was cerulean blue in the sky, and in front of us, an iridescent blue soda that we were drinking out of glass bottles; it almost glowed in the sunlight. I picked up my high-ball and looked at the carbonation. It floated not just upwards towards the surface, but all over, like waylaid, lazy molecules. The bubbles flickered in rainbow hues. Strange.
That's when I realised that Gus was missing, and that the sound had started again. When it stopped, I felt a hand at the band of my shorts, and then a very friendly, warm wetness around my unsuspecting penis... which I more-or-less let go on for a bit before slowly bending down to see my missing lunch-mate, busy at work, and an empty bottle lying down on the floor behind him, under the table.
I sat up again and looked at the other two.
"How long's he been doing that?"
"What? Playing spin the bottle by himself? Ages."
I narrowed my eyes at Michelle. "He's been getting you too?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Apparently you haven't been very lucky today."
I sat back and spread my legs a little.
...
Yep, mid-afternoon naps. Love them.
