Domestic drama
It’s going to be tit-to-toe crowded at my place, pretty soon. As usual, my blokefriend and I are playing host to a motley crew of Mardi Gras tourists: a bevy of blow-ins, all of whom will be out there having fun and, if past years are any indication, treating our home like a goddamn hotel.
Not that I mind. Actually, I quite like the bustle of guests in that crazy week. I enjoy stocking the house beforehand with items like champagne, chewie, quality hair product, Berocca -“ you know, the essentials. And I like hearing the snatches of gossip from our guests when they do see fit to drag their sorry arses back home, replete with tales of what they did, and with whom, and where, and for how long, and whether they’re going back for more.
And this year, my bloke and I are kind of counting on our guests getting lucky. At the moment, we only have extra bedding for two people but, at last count, we were expecting four guests around Mardi Gras time, so if some of them don’t pick up, it’s going to get mighty cosy. (I only hope that none of our guests get it into their heads to sleep -“ or worse, root -“ in the marital bed while the BF and I are out. This actually happened to a friend of mine a few years ago: he came home one day to find his interstate guest -“ someone of some renown in the gay community -“ was, um, occupying the master bedroom, with his trade. Talk about gross!)
That shouldn’t happen with our guests -“ although we are accommodating one guy who’s as yet a total stranger. He comes very well recommended, though -“ he’s a friend of a friend; a gay guy from Germany on his first trip to Australia.
According to my friend, he’s lovely and, of course, totally hot. My friend wants me to ensure that I get the German laid while he’s here. It shouldn’t be too hard a task: I’ve already had two friends put in dibs, sight unseen.
So why are we taking this guy in? Partly, it’s because we’re good people. And partly, it’s in case this guy is as totally hot as my friend claims.
But mostly, it’s because the German has the most fuck-off gorgeous apartment in downtown Berlin, which the BF and I plan to treat like a goddamn hotel, when we visit him some time next year. Sweet, huh?
