“The Knocking Over of the Trophy”

V

The furniture was to the attic apartment what hinges, legs, and the mattress are to a sofa bed—things ready to be stored away at the first sign of need. So well-contained was the loft.

Straight ahead from the entrance, Bert knocked on a wooden door. He pushed it further in and leaned out his head past the arched doorway. “He’s here.”

Lily murmured something from behind the panel door.

Why, Scott pondered, was Bert sticking around? Was this Lily’s plan? If so, why? The answers were too unsettling to imagine. Still, Bert had extended Scott a major favor, something that 70% of males would never have done due to being straight. Furthermore, Lily had allowed Scott to empty his balls inside her. At the very least, Scott concluded, he should not complain.

Bert strolled into the bedroom and motioned for Scott to follow him.

Scott’s heart raced as if an eggbeater whipping milk to butter. Every sensation magnified tenfold—the sound of the bamboo boards creaking under Scott’s black cowboy boots, the scent of the daisies, lilacs, and orchids in the corner vase, the feel of the lukewarm breeze blowing in through the dormer window, and the sight of Lily wearing nothing but lingerie.

“Isn’t she something?” Bert said excitedly.

Scott pretended to assess Lily as objectively as possible.

Never had a babe worn panties of liquid silk. Never had a lace brassiere glittered with such seductiveness. Never had lingerie looked so pearly-white.

Scott halted with a mild jolt. He skimmed over the queen-size bed.

Its cinnamon bed sheets of charmeuse melted something in the young man.

Scott rotated the rest of his body left so that it aligned with his turned head.

The square of sunlight faced Scott headlong, as well as the beauty sitting before it on the bed.

“What are you studs doing by the door?” Lily tinkled. “Take off your clothes and keep me company.”

Scott hesitated.

Bert, however, unbuttoned his tangerine shirt of seersucker. He flapped it back.

The tangerine shirt sounded like a blanket.

Bert smiled at the knolls of muscle he had revealed. Bert’s abs even put the iris diaphragm of a starship hatch in relief.

No wonder Bert was