More Than Kisses by Renee Ericson Page A

wait for him to answer.
    We wait.
    We wait some more.
    “Maybe ring the doorbell?” Foster says, pressing the small button.
    “He said it wasn’t working,” I tell him when no sound rings out. “Shorted during the last big rain storm, I guess. Hence, the knocking.”
    I rise on tiptoes and peek through the glass on the upper portion of the door. “The lights are on and the table is set. I wonder why he’s not answering?”
    “We are early.”
    “True.” I turn the brass knob. “He’s likely just out back getting firewood or something.”
    “So, we’re just letting ourselves in?” Foster asks as I open the door, allowing the warmth from the house to billow over us.
    “You can stay out here if you like, but I’m freezing. Besides, Wolfie won’t mind.”
    Together we enter the cozy house, take off our jackets and meander back to the kitchen where the counters are lined with a slew of amazing looking appetizers. Wolfgang really went all out for his course. I peek out the back door toward the woodpile, but there’s no Wolfgang in sight.
    “I’m going to use the bathroom,” Foster states.
    “Okay. I’m going to check upstairs. He’s not out back.”
    “Sounds good.”
    Foster leaves the kitchen area for the bathroom and I head toward the front of the house to the staircase. I call, “Wolfie,” at a normal volume from the bottom step and when I hear nothing in return, begin to make my way up to the second floor.
    When I reach the top of the steps, I peek into the dark bathroom and then Wolfie’s bedroom before heading down the small hallway toward the second bedroom that he uses for a studio. It has the best natural light.
    Comforted that there’s a soft glow streaming out from the slightly ajar door, I proceed to open it further where I find...
    HOLY FUCK!
    My eyes!
    Ass. Bare ass.
    Fast pumping hand on dick. Lightening quick.
    Thwap!
    Thwap!
    Thwap!
    White skin.
    Naked. Completely nude. Hairless.
    The sounds. Oh, the flesh-smacking sounds.
    Thwap!
    Thwap!
    Thwap!
    A movement on the other side of the room alerts me.
    Oh god! Is that Professor Turner?
    What is he doing? Brushing his hair?
    Wolfgang grunts and my eyes flick back to his masturbating naked body. He clenches his ass cheeks.
    “Keep brushing,” Wolfgang breathes, labored.
    “Take it slow,” Professor Turner commands.
    My blood turns to ice. I can’t breathe.
    What the fuck?
    I blink.
    I avert my eyes, branded with live pornographic horror.
    Slowly, unable to fully comprehend what I just walked in on, I back away from the door.
    ––––––––
    F oster
    Evelyn joins me in the kitchen and reaches for a bottle of clear liquor on the counter.
    “Did you find him?” I ask.
    She doesn’t respond, silently unscrewing the lid. Lifting the entire bottle to her lips, she audibly swallows a mouthful of liquor.
    “So, it’s going to be that kind of night? Looks like I’ll be driving.”
    Resting the bottle back on the granite ledge, she drags the back of her hand over her perfect mouth and then grabs a glass from the collection, neatly set out on the counter. Evelyn steps to the fridge and helps herself to some ice and cranberry juice before topping off her drink with vodka.
    She practically chugs more than half of it at once.
    “Is everything okay?”
    She lowers the high ball from her lips. “Masturbating.” She nods to herself. She drinks again. “Professor Turner.” She exhales. “Penis.” And, she drinks again.
    Evelyn has been known to say some crazy shit, but this is different. Even for her.
    “Okay...” I drawl. “What are you trying to say? Is Wolfie alright?”
    “He’s something,” she says and then raises the glass to her lips once again.
    Something’s not right.
    I think she’s in shock.
    I approach her carefully as her beautiful clear-as-the-ocean eyes obsessively ponder the ground. Taking the glass from her hand, I set it down and gently run my hands up and down her arms.
    “Evelyn,” I say, demanding