Aaron and Caleb, attached to the hip ever since they'd met seven years ago in Salinas at the John Steinbeck festival, couldn't agree on the proper shade of beige for their new house. They'd drained themselves of energy trying to agree how to decorate the interior, practically ripping out each other's hair in the process and even sleeping in separate bedrooms for a short time. But eventually Cable got horny and since beating off to Internet porn could go only so far, he climbed into bed with Aaron and nudged him between his legs with his you-know-what.
"I'm just a hole to you!" Aaron pretended to complain, but Caleb could tell he was gaining momentum. Not to mention the promise of great sex ... and another crest of their relationship cycle. Caleb poked and prodded, Aaron resisted, Caleb got pissed, Aaron relented, Caleb poked and prodded again.
Now they were bickering over the two shades of beige and Lilly was having none of it. Who cared if it was Milano Ecru or Platinum Silk? No one outside of these two decorators could ever tell the difference. She wondered how in the dickens two decorators (especially Aaron, into mid-century modern stuff, and Caleb, into art deco) could ever live together, let alone agree on anything. Here they were, making a federal case about two shades of beige you could barely tell were different. As if anyone walking down their San Francisco street would even notice.
Lilly was glad she never got married.
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