The Lust Project 2.5

The next night, in the edge that Saturday turns Sunday, we mean, Evandro’s car parks at a 4-floor condo that looks like more clinic but painted in brick-red, not very far the building where he uses to park.

“And why don’t you look for a room around the residential?,” he asks while taking out the seat belt.

“I truly haven’t seen although they say there are good offers on Sunday’s classifieds,” Osmar answers.

“Yes, especially one saying: cowboy, cop, firefighter, marine, or baseball player. Section Relax.”

Osmar smiles and unlocks the seat belt.

“By the way, you should fix the marine’s that has a free thread that gives me no reliability.”

“If it goes you OK with that contract and you do what I advised, maybe you must not worry about these costumes.”

Evandro opens the door and pick down the car. Osmar does the same. The driver goes around and gets close to his friend until clapping his shoulder.

“What will you do with these costumes if it goes me OK with… Lust?,” Osmar asks with sarcasm.

“Alexis is not my option because Zaira checks him good, so I’ll come in Escalante mode – full casting.”

“Do you know, evan? I’d like to rent something like the apartment you live in, where there would be all that space to give shows without fears, much privacy, sleeping warmer, have the friends when I want, offering a coffee, a lemonade, a drink.”

Osmar feels the arm of his friend and partner around his neck.

“I’ll help you to look for and move. Now, let’s gho to…”

Evandro joins again his left index and bold, makes them beating. Osmar laughs. When coming to the rings board, the first one looks at the fourth floor while the second one searches the address on his cellphone to be sure of pressing the right button.

“Too quiet to be a party,” evandro observes.

“Maybe the condo’s rules.” Osmar supposes as he presses the 403. A little electronic bell sounds.

“You got it – we get to, appreciate, enjoy, and get back quicly to the residential,” Evandro reminds.

“Don’t tell me this pussy boy and his friends went to a disco.”

“Did he leave you any message?”

“None.”

Osmar presses the button again and the electronic ding-dong-dang sounds once again.

“Let’s go home better,” Evandro claims.

“Well, we came, appreciated, went.”

The couple of hunks don’t end to turn when a voice is heard like lulled in the intercom. Both see each other. Osmar gets close:

“Gee… bran?”

“Who’s it?,” somebody answers on the little speaker.

“Evandro and Osmar.”

“One second,” somebody replies.

Evandro tips his friend’s firm waist.

“This dork is already little drunk. Let’s go better.”

The electronic lock of the door sounds. Osmar sees his friend again.

“Let’s come in to see around,” he proposes. “If there’s nothing, let’s go.”

In two minutes or less, the two boys are already in the hallway of fourth floor, and in front of the 403. Osmar knocks the door, this opens. Gibran’s head slices up. His shoulder is bare.

“You came, guys,” the host smiles.