Nervous as an athlete in a pennant race, Ennis shifted. The seat squeaked like a rubber ducky. His foot slipped, kicked a Colt 45 Malt Liquor can hiding underneath. “Shit!”
Wylie reached over, massaged Ennis’s shoulder, stroked his neck. Ennis relaxed. Wylie snaked his fingers up through Ennis’s hair and drew him close, whispering, “C’mere.”
Before Ennis knew what was happenning Wylie kissed him full on the mouth. Warm lips, the taste of whisky, beer, tequila, stale cigarettes. Ennis didn’t resist, didn’t object, didn’t want it to end.
He sat bolt upright gasping. Ennis was naked. In Jack’s bed. Alone.
100 words