Awake

The alarm beeped its high-pitched squeak softly at first, as if to apologize, and then louder until Jake finally acknowledged its ferocity and slammed his wrist onto the machine. Twenty past four. Oh, well, must get up to make the plane. So Jake pulled his achy-breaky body out of the bed, naked and soft against the sheets with his perky nipples and flopping –

“Cut it out right now,” Jane wrote. “I’ve had enough porno-writing out of you this week, Jim.” So the writer apologized and got back to his daily rite.

So Jake, knowing he had to criss-cross the country from Florida to Oregon, all for the sake of arriving in Portland before noon, lumbered into the shower and then into the kitchen and then downstairs and then into the taxi and then to the airport and then into the airplane (first leg Houston) and then out and then back into another airplane (second leg Portland) and then out and then to baggage claim and then to the rental counter and then onto the highway and then into the hotel and then into the hotel room and then into the shower and then plop! Time to unpack.

“Damn,” Jake said to the strange walls. “I forgot to pack underwear.”

But hey, it’s Portland, right? The Left Coast, where anything goes? He’d go commando at this conference. It wasn’t like he was presenting or anything, was it? He’d just be attending. And if some cute young thing grabbed his attention, maybe he’d spread his legs just a little, enough to broadcast his interest ... and availability ...

“All right, I’ve had enough. Anymore sex talk, Jim, and I’ll relegate you to the sub list.”

Back to Jake the Virgin, the writer guessed, deciding Jake had better pack underwear after all. Might have a zipper incident like he did in Albuquerque.