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Luna 1
It was a dark and stormy night… to quote a cliché… but I saw the shadow of the light and heard their voices as I approached the barn.
“Do you think it’s long enough?”
“Absolutely, but what about the girth?”
“It might not be wide enough.”
“Oh stop. I think by now, we know it’s more than wide enough.”
“But how does it feel?”
“Mmm, do I really have to answer that question?”
“Yeah. I want to know. Are you comfortable?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Why would I kid about something so important?”
“Yes, I’m comfortable. I’m more than comfortable, but it’s not moving. It’ll be a different story when it’s moving.”
“Fine, if it’s moving you want, then moving you’ll get.”
“Wait, that might be too much. It’s moving too fast.”
“It’ll be faster than this once the race starts.”
“She might need to be strapped in.”
“That could get dangerous.”
“That’s the problem with these things; there’s more to it than trust.”
“Like what?” Vince asked as I reached for the door.
“Like fucking running into another racer,” I reminded my best friends as I entered the well-lit barn and shut the door behind me. The wind blew in, causing my long, brown hair to twist around my face, as sawdust swirled around our feet. What we were making inside the barn was top secret, at least when it came to the residents of Cricket, our small town in northern California. “If I didn’t know you guys were talking about the coffin you just built for the race, I’d think there was something deliciously dirty going on in here.”
It was October, and that meant contests, dances, and spooky fun. The four of us had been participating in almost all the events ever since we were kids, and now that we were either already in our thirties or sliding into them, we still participated, especially the in the coffin derby.
“That’s because your mind is always on sex, while we’ve more or less given it up for the time being,” Vincent or rather Vince Stoker said. He was the first of the three guys to take a break from all things sexy about six months ago when his latest woman up and left him for another. And to make matters worse, he had dated that other woman the previous year as well. Both those women had stomped on his heart like it was a spider in their bed and never looked back.
Even though everybody knew these two women belonged together, Vince took it personally. Like he was a bad and inadequate lover. He believed, and probably still did, despite the last six months of therapy, that he was the cause. We’d all tried to make him see his view was jaded from the two massive dumps, but he refused to hear us.
“Define more or less.” I loved to tease them, Vince in particular. He never could tell the difference between my asking a serious question as opposed to trying to get a rise out of him.
“Satisfying yourself is never part of the equation,” he said, looking as if he was about to give me a lesson in masturbation,which I enjoyed just like any other healthy twenty-nine-year-old.
“It’s sex with another person that’s been banned in this barn,” Bram Crow said, and I knew he meant it. Bram’s problem with sex was that once he started down that road, he couldn’t get enough. He’d been into porn so badly, it nearly broke him financially. Then there was the whole syphilis scare that had us all running for the hills. In the end, he didn’t have it, but that was just some kind of miracle because the last woman he’d been with, did in fact have it.
That scared him. He willingly joined forces with Vince, making a blood pact like we had when we were kids, and decided to never tell anyone what we saw inside Stoker House, a house that had been in Vince’s family for well over a hundred and fifty years. The four of us made that blood pact. To this day, we’d never told anyone, even each other what we saw on that Halloween night when we were borderline teens.
So, if they made a blood pact about abstaining from sex, no way would they break that pact.
“Well, take me off the list, boys. I just met the man of my dreams.”
“You were never on the list,” Bram said.
