Sequel to Hard and Soft
He could hear the sound track to The Sound of Music echoing through the stairwell as Julie Andrews extolled the virtues of her favorite things. At top volume.
God he hoped Jim wasn't home. This would be driving him nuts. It had to be old Mrs. Martin from 303. From the chats he had shared with her, he knew that she loved Broadway Musicals.
When he opened the door to the third floor landing his eardrums were assaulted even more as he realized that the music was even louder then he had first imagined. Well if she didn't turn it down in the next fifteen minutes he was going to have to say something to her.
He was confronted with just how wrong he was when he swung the loft door open.
The sight that greeted him, was, was, was... something out of Alice in Wonderland.
Jim was home.
Jim was not mad.
Jim was dressed in a hot pink bra and leopard print thong.
Jim was dancing to the music.
Jim was dancing in a hot pink bra and leopard print thong.
Blair shut the door.
With himself on the outside.
Took a deep breath to center himself.
And opened the door again.
To be assaulted with the same sight.
But this time there was no retreat.
Jim pirouetted and caught the sight of him standing there, in the doorway, mouth agape.
And Jim let out a high-pitched squeal.
Then as he sprinted towards his frozen roommate on tiptoes, he whispered passionately, "Blairsie, oh Blairsie your home."
He caught his smaller friend to his hot pink clad chest where he proceeded to...
Hug the stuffing out of him and kiss him till he almost passed out from lack of oxygen.
Then slinging the student over his shoulder he turned and ran up the stairs to his bedroom.
Blair never heard the music end.
Blair decided he liked men in hot pink and leopard print.
Blair decided he was born to be a bottom slut.
As he stumbled down the stairs the next day. Having left a naked, sprawled Sentinel upstairs still asleep, Blair wondered what the hell had happened yesterday.
A mystery that was solved as he saw the carcasses left in the kitchen.
Six empty Peeps packages.
Lots of multi-colored sugar tracks.
"Ahhhhhhhh man, he ate my hard, stale Peeps."
And realized that Sentinels and too much sugar are not a good thing.
Unless you end up well fucked in the morning.
Next Easter he was buying a case.
Who needs Spanish Fly.
Not this Guide!