Sweaty, naked and visibly uncomfortable, Justin rolled over on the couch, struggling to stay asleep in the thick summer heat. Sunlight had set fire to the filmy white curtains draped casually over bamboo rods above the double glass doors, irradiating the room with sickly orange light, poisoning the air with warmth that forced itself down his throat and into his lungs. His feet dangled over the raised arm of the couch, but whether this was his fault for being tall or the couches fault for being small he hadn't quite decided yet. Justin pulled a fold of blanket over his naughty bits, already much more awake than he was, and ready, so it seemed, for action, and tried his best to relax. This was difficult, as the pink old-lady couch gave him the unsettling feeling that he was about to roll off and fall onto his face. It simply was not big enough.
He gave up on trying to get anymore sleep and threw himself to his feet. Across the room his computer mouse glowed benignly on the table, hovering on a little pool of red in a triangle of shadow thrown by the edge of the door. He gave it a little shove and his monitor activated, displaying the time in a little box in the corner. 2:19 in the afternoon.
Nine to ten, ten to eleven, twelve, one, two... I only slept for five hours, he thought, counting on his fingers. He rubbed his puffy face. It was hot, dammit, and he hated the heat. He wished he was still asleep.
Already he was wide awake, and as he turned to cross the square room, barefoot on flat blue carpet, he began to settle into a kindof minor despair. Awake again. What do I do now? he wondered helplessly as his body moved over to the closed wooden door. He lifted the latch and opened it a crack to peer down the hallway. No sign of his roommate, a pretty, tiny little ex-girlfriend named Tanya. He reached around his door to grab his bathrobe off the hook on the open bathroom door, right across the hall, and then leapt from one doorway to the other while guarding his embarrassingly prominent morning wood.
Safely in the bathroom, he proceeded to bend his knees and lean into an awkward horse-riding stance, while simultaneously relaxing his insides, in order to succesfully piss through his hardon. Having practiced this for years, it was not as difficult as it sounds, and Justin's tetherless mind had actually considered a career in water play pornographic films. Briefly.
Standing in the shower he spent at least as much time staring at the tattoo on his chest as he did using the soap. He had been trying to picture it with a black outline, something his very non-visual imagination had a distinct problem with. He decided in the end to trust his tattoo artist, an ex-girlfriend turned ex-military lesbian who was disturbingly talented and he was still thinking about her when he sat down at his computer desk, back in the square room he was renting from his ex. Deciding to finally deal with his morning-in-the-afternoon boner, he opened a folder on the computer that contained some dirty pictures she had drawn.
He heard Tanya on the stairs. He had just enough time to close the window and quickly jump out of his chair and into a stretching pose that allowed his bathrobe to hang over his front when she said "Justin?" and came around the corner. "Could you help me figure out why the internet won't work on my computer?"
He stood, trying to keep himself faced away from her as he said "Yeah, sure" in what he hoped was a casual manner. He busied himself with pulling a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt from his closet. "I'll be right there"
Pulling his erection up under the wasteband of his pants so that it laid semi flat against his stomach, he followed her up the stairs and sat in front of her laptop. "Could it be that we haven't paid the bill?" he said after a few minutes tinkering. "This is what it used to do to us when we let the account get shut off."
"Oh yeah. I guess that's it." Tanya said quickly, scratching her gray weimaraner Storm distractedly as she explained nervously. She hated being late on any payments. "I only owe them like fifty bucks."
Back downstairs in the kitchen he reached for his packet of Oreos, thinking to mix a few with some vanilla yogurt and Grape Nuts for breakfast. With a dull wave of disgust he saw that his package had been invaded by tiny black ants, crawling out from the open plastic slit in random intervals. He sighed and ate the cookie in his hand, realizing absentmindedly as he did so that he had almost assuredly just eaten an ant or two, and began searching for some tupperware. Each cookie got a good shaking and a few puffs of air before being transferred to the plastic, hopefully antproof container. He was slightly apprehensive about the small crack on one corner of the cover, but it appeared to be too small for even an ant to crawl through. In the end, the chocolate-vanilla-grapenut combo wasn't very good anyway. So it goes.
In the sweltering heat, Justin thought to himself, that's one hour down. Maybe ten more until I can fall asleep again. Somewhere way down inside he felt like crying, like screaming and wailing and changing everything. He ignored the sensation and sat staring dull-eyed at his computer screen. Finally, he decided to finish jerking himself off.
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