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Prose

Christopher

Bare-assed in the living room with the curtains open. He was shameless, not only about his body, paunch and all, but also with his personal dealings. It served him well, or so he thought. His mother might disagree, seeing as he hadn’t produced a grandchild yet. She would have to wait because there were too many ladies out there.

He waited impatiently for his latest friend to show up. They were going to have drinks and then go out, at least that’s what he told her. He expected to charm her and stay home in bed, reveling in more base desires.

This was the meaning of life as far as he was concerned. Pleasure above all else (even common sense) was his mantra. He didn’t see the point in working a hundred hours a week to pay for a big house or any of that other greedy bullshit. He just wanted the heat of a woman, any woman, as often as possible-an object of passion he could focus on, however briefly, to drown out the bleak parts of life.

He put on his lucky shirt and sprayed on his musky cologne. He turned up the music, shimmied, and had his first vodka. He was ready to entertain.

© 2021 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

By jebrownwriter

Houston, TX-based Writer and Photographer. Proud pet rescuer who spends nearly all his money on them.

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