The Friends that Bond Together
I ruffled Egon's hair.
He gasped, slime slipping past his collar.
Good.
I'd had a bad moment when Egon went down. That crunch on impact…. That demonic clown packed a mean pie.
"There's time to wash the slime and banana cream out of your hair before the Community Center Carnival. Good thing they gave us those T-shirts. Peter was on laundry duty."
Ray dodged the slime I flung his way.
Egon'd been in the shower forever.
"You know, Egon," I called, "You might want to invest in a spare for the spares. There's barely enough of these specs left to superglue. Or try ducking."
A warm, wet Egon wearing only a towel plastered himself to my back, hands skimming my chest and settling on my hips.
"I am sorry for scaring you, Peter," he rumbled into my hair. "Forgive me?"
His hand slid beneath my waistband, slipped lower.
"Probably. But not now. We promised Ray. We'll never get there if you keep…oh yeah…that…up."
"This?" He squeezed lightly.
I covered his hand with mine. "Not tonight."
"You have a headache?" He removed his hand with reluctance.
I couldn't move my hand at all.
Thanks to the modern miracle that is Krazy Glue, my fingers were well and truly stuck to my zipper. Just the thing to kill a hard-on. And me still needing to pee.
"Since you seem to have everything in hand, I'll go get dressed."
"Not funny, Egon. Wait, come back!"
"Hey, Ray!" I yelled to make myself heard over "The Mummy" movie marathon downstairs. "I could use some help here."
Echoing up the stairs I could clearly hear "From your lips to Ra's ears."
Thank you, Boris Karloff. Not that a little supernatural assistance wouldn't be appreciated.
"Ray, pass the acetone and never speak of this again."
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