Idle Hands
by Pilar

With him gone, I have near nothing left to take up the day. Time moves so slowly. Slower than it ever has, slower than the seconds I've watched unfold behind my eyes of the moment of Kathy Rockwell's impact across my front end.

The cat and mouse took up all my time. Made the time move more smoothly and take up less time.

He would think that he was the cat in that equation, but I've thought about it and I'm not so sure that either us really knew what parts we played in our strange scenario. Sometimes, we switched.


I can get laid. It's not that I can't get laid. Anyone can get laid.

Horny is easy to get past, but it only takes up a few minutes of an otherwise ridiculously long day.

"Beecher! McManus wants to see you. In his office, now."

I'd fuck Sean Murphy if he'd let me. Nice tight lips I'd like to see wrapped around the head of my dick. Good, hard ass. Nice Irish stock. Sweet, thick hair that begs to be pulled. Nice and tight.


"Yeah, come in, Beecher. Have a seat."

Shit. I'd let McManus bury his cock in my ass. That goatee of his scraping against the back of my neck, his small hands offering the reach around. It's only been a few days, I've got to stop thinking like this.

But the days are so much longer without "entertainment."

"What's up?"

Whatever. No drama to let myself be engulfed by, most of my lingering problems have been dealt with. And, clearly, I got the placebo. Somehow, I knew I would.

So with only myself to entertain myself and the beard angle taking its own sweet time to work itself out, I find myself trying to waste the days away. You can only take so many showers and screw with so many excel spreadsheets and play only so many parlor games in the common room of this fucking place.

But horny takes up a good amount of time. More than you might think, more than I thought.

It's too bad that Hill can't feel anything from the waist down. Not a bad looking guy, that Hill. Nice lips. Probably was a damn good fuck back in the day.

None of the Aryans are worth my time... Pancamo, think not. Running out of guys to even want. None of them are Keller. Half o' them ain't even Shemin, and that says a lot.

So fan-fucking-tastic. Left to my own fucking devices, without devices.


Silverlake: Authors / Mediums / Titles / Links / List / About / Updates / Silverlake Remix