Efrain and Cory Ch. 18

"A taste of my own medicine."

I put down his keyring and patted his head. Preston was being whiney. Preston never whined. He was the mature almost-21 junior. His little brother and sister looked up to him and practically worshipped him (by Preston's accounts, at least). I was starting to get really worried. As much as I wanted to tell him about Efrain coming to Al's gig, my good news had to wait.

"Come on, man," I said. "Tell me what this is about."

"Promise you won't hate me?"

"What could you do to make me hate you?"

Before he could answer, three women - two brunettes and a blonde - slid into the booth with us. They looked a little familiar. One of the brunettes, with straight hair that hung down to her shoulders, spoke first.

"Hi, Cory."

"Hi?"

The blonde, who spoke with a vocal fry creaky enough to make a Kardashian step back and question her value as an individual, greeted me next.

"He was probably too drunk to remember us."

The other brunette, long curly hair pulled into a pretty ponytail, giggled and laid her head on the table next to Preston. I think I recognized her as one of the cheerleaders, but I got a sneaking suspicion that I should have known her, as well as the other two women, from somewhere else.

"Hello, Preston."

"Hey, Meggie," he said, lifting his head. "Cory, this is Meggie. Meggie, Cory."

"Oh, we've met before," she said.

"I don't..."

"Like I said," the blonde cut me off. "He was too drunk. He wouldn't remember."

"What wouldn't I remember?"

"'Y'all might wanna turn up the TV'" said the first brunette.

"'I get pretty loud,'" giggled Meggie.

Oh fuck.

A room full of people at Indie's and me drunk off my ass. I covered my face with both hands and stammered out an apology. Fortunately, my shame seemed to snap Preston out of his mood.

"Okay, I need to hear this," he said.

"Oh yeah. Preston, these are my friends, Laurel and Lacey," Meggie said, indicating the other brunette, and then the blonde. Then it clicked. Laurel was one of Indie's best friends. She was also Indie and Efrain's roommate-in-absentia.

"Charmed," he said, shaking each woman's hand. "Now, what embarrassing thing did Cory do?"

They took turns filling him in on the details. And then some. I understood that straight dudes got off on watching women together, but no amount of yaoi reading could help me wrap my head around straight women getting off on gay men.

"You're making half that up," I said.

"Nope," Laurel said. "Our boyfriends and Indie can verify."

"Fuck," I sighed. "So whose boyfriend did I traumatize?"

"That would be mine," Lacey drawled.

"Oh!" Preston said. "You traumatized a straight dude. How many does this make?"

"Don't worry," I said. "It'll be awhile before I warp enough to catch up to your kill count."

"You've been working pretty hard on your own roommates."

"You have been working hard on my roommates."

"I wasn't the one that got them hooked on gay cartoon porn."

The women giggled over their respective drinks. We chatted a little longer. Despite my embarrassing start, I liked them. We exchanged social media connections, and Laurel and I traded cell numbers.

"Well, I think we've heard enough," Laurel said eventually. She stood up and the other two followed. "I think my boys will do just fine in their hands."

They wished us farewell and sailed out.

"Boys? Plural?" I thought out loud. "Why plural? What am I supposed to do with Indie?"

"Cory," Preston whined. He put his head back on the table. "Please don't be mad."

"Why would I..."

Their hands. Not his hands, their hands.

"Preston," I said in a sing-song voice. "You have some explaining to do."

He sat up. The look was as despondent and plaintive as I'd ever seen him.

"Remember how you said I had to leave Indie alone?"

"Yes."

"I didn't," he said guiltily.

He filled me in on the harassment campaign.

"How were you getting into his office?"

"Mrs. Gail."

"The cleaning lady?" I said. "Preston, that could get her fired!"

I met Mrs. Gail over the summer when she was cleaning the student union. Indie's building was her usual gig, but the reduced hours and staffing during the summer forced her into working nights cleaning the student council offices, where I sometimes hung out with Preston while he handled GSA business. She was really nice to us. When her car broke down, Preston and I helped her get groceries and run errands. We even repaired some things in her apartment that her landlord kept dragging his ass about. I missed chatting with her, but was glad she got her normal schedule back. The nightshift was pretty hard on her.

"When I told her what Indie said about you, she was all about helping me out," he said. "She even put in some of her own stuff and gave me ideas for others."

"Fucking hell, Preston."

"No really," he laughed. "She had these bags of fake snow left over from a church thing last year. We dumped it all over his desk."

I tried not to laugh; Indie must have had a bitchfit of epic proportions.

"It was weird though. You'd think an asshole like him would make the cleaning lady clean up the mess, but she said he just asked to borrow a broom and refused to let her help."

"That is interesting," I conceded. "So, is this why you'd thought I'd be mad?"

Preston's smile faded, and he looked down at his hands.

"I..." he faltered.

"You what?"

"Oh God." He whined and put his head back on the table. He banged his head a couple times. I ruffled his hair again. "Why didn't you warn me that he could kiss like that?"

My hand stilled on his head.

"I thought you were just doing anonymous shit." Immature as fuck anonymous shit. And Mrs. Gail? What the fuck?

"Indie figured out it was me. He left me this," he said, pointing to the Yorkie. "And a note saying 'I get it, Preston. You can stop now.' I was kinda shocked, so I didn't leave in time and he came in."

I knew there was more to this, so I waited for him to continue. He whined again, but pressed on.

I forced myself to not laugh as he led me through the and-one-thing-led-to-another that ended with the two of them rolling around on Indie's desk making out like horny teenagers.

"Poor Preston," I said, patting his head.

"I went back again this morning, and..." I lost the rest of his statement in his mumbling.

"Come again?"

"He...we..."

"What did you do?" I prodded. Preston sat up abruptly.

"He gave me a hand job, okay?" he wailed just a little too loudly. The patrons at the nearest tables turn around, but he'd already covered his face with both hands. "I'm so ashamed."

"Wow, I'm surprised you know what that word means."

"I looked it up once," he said, his normal wit making a brief appearance. He took a calming breath and put his hands down.

"So," I said, grinning. "You played gay chicken with Indie Norman and lost."

"Gay chicken?"

"Yeah, two guys put the moves on each other, and the one who chickens out loses," I said. "Aka - 'seduce the straight boy.' It's technically cheating if you're into dudes, but they didn't need to know that."

"Really?" he asked sarcastically.

"Don't judge, man," I said. "Gay chicken got me some serious play."

"Fucking closet case."

"Hey, at least I didn't let Indie beat me at gay chicken."

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