Ανδρέας - Andrey

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“Are you sure?” The kid's voice shakes, big wet eyes staring up at him from the black leather couch.

If Jack wasn't already hard, he sure as hell would be now.

He steadies the camera in his hand, flicking his eyes to the screen to make sure he's not tilting the shot too much.

This is his favourite part, the one he’s going to watch on repeat back in his apartment. Where the kid slowly comes to terms with what he's willing to do, the amount he's willing to let himself get used, to get some cash in his pockets.

“I'm just tryin to look out for you, kid. These numbers aren't half of what they should be. Sweet little thing like you should be raking in the views.”

He reaches out, stroking along Dennis's chin, tilting his face up before he rests his thumb over the seam of the kids lips.

Watches through the screen as the kid opens up, wet hot tongue wrapping around him like he belongs there. Doesn't even need to ask, the kid already knows his place so well. A natural born slut.

“Don't worry, I know just the thing. You're ok with getting hit right?” He murmurs, voice soft and sweet like that'll hide the violence in his words.

Zooming in on the way Dennis's mouth purses, nodding as he sucks. Even though the fear on his face tells Jack otherwise. He throbs at the struggle behind those beautiful blue eyes, almost painfully hard against the cool air of the room.

He draws back, shivering at the cooling spit covering his finger, and he holds his palm out. Getting a nice wad of spit from the kid before he strokes himself. Tip to root and back in one hard pump, spreading precum and spit.

“Okay sweetheart, you know the drill, in position, just like before.”

He lazily strokes himself as he films Dennis shifting onto his knees on the cushions of the couch. Draping his chest over the back of it, pert milky little ass angled towards him.

Jack grunts, as another fat bead of precum oozes out of him as the kid reaches back and holds himself open. Hole winking dusty pink and shiny for the camera. Already nice and prepped; such a good boy.

He moves forward, letting his tip rest against the hot little hole, watching as it flutters against him.

Gets a nice close up as he breaches his way into the wet heat of the kid in one agonizing thrust. Smirking at the keen Dennis lets out, still raw and sore from earlier.

Doesn't even give him a second to get used to it, fucking into him hard, setting a brutal pace.

Punching the air out of the kid’s lungs in little uh’s, with each slam of his hips. Balls slapping lewdly against his taint.

“C'mon, we're not gonna get any views if you don't work a little harder for it, kid.” He goads, watching the way Dennis's muscles tense up each time Jack bottoms out. He can just imagine the way the kid must be biting his lip to stifle his pained groans.

But Dennis works his hips back against Jack's hammering thrusts, forcing out breathy little fake moans.

He bucks into the kid hard as he clenches down on Jack's cock. Fuck he wishes the camera could capture how good Dennis's tight hole is working him.

Getting sloppy with his rhythm, and on one particularly hard thrust, Jack nearly sends the kid right over the back of the couch. Poor kids' hands scrambling from his cheeks to grip the leather and keep himself upright.

“Ready for the main event?” He coos.

And he doesn't even wait for an answer from the drooling cock stupid slut before he reels back his free hand and cracks it down with a deafening, bruising slap.

Startling a hoarse, pained shout from the kid's lips. Cheek flushing bright red in the shape of his hand within seconds.

Jiggling the cheek while he keeps up his punishing pace, watching it bounce before he slaps Dennis's ass again.

Slowly gets lost to the feel of the kid squeezing tight around him with every hit. Deaf to the wet blubbering sobs that pour out of Dennis till he’s wrung out, reduced to hitching constant whimpers.

His cheek is neon livid red, dotted with spots of burst vessels over his swollen cheek, and Jack grabs it hard. Fingers digging meanly into the fat of him, hips stuttering as Dennis buries his face into the leather, biting down as he spasms wildly around Jack's pistoning cock.

With a harsh grunt Jack pulls out, stripping his cock until he’s painting the kid’s red ass with ropes of pearly white. Jerking hard to get the last few drops of cum out of him, digging his slit into the hot plush of Dennis’s ass to wipe away the mess on his cock.

He pants, chest heaving as he comes back to himself. Zooming in on Dennis’s soft small dick where it hangs useless between his thighs, reaching down to flick the tip, watching the kids balls draw up in pain. Mouth still stuffed by leather as he cries out.

He shuts the camera off, quickly palming and pocketing the sd card for later use. Before he turns it back on, swearing softly to himself as lets Den in on his ‘discovery’.

Barely hiding his smile as he groans, “Shit, I forgot to put in an sd card…”

“Wh-” Dennis blinks, letting himself crumple to his side on the couch. Uncaring of the cum he’s smearing all over it. Thank god leather is easy to wipe up.

Thinking about trans Dennis who hasn’t shaved since starting his transition.

His mother had always insisted that women were supposed to be hairless, that men preferred their wives to not have body hair. She swore that women having body hair was simply unhygienic— which now, as a medical professional, he knows isn’t true— so the second Dennis started going through puberty, his mother handed him a razor and a bar of soap and told him to keep himself proper. Dennis had scowled but endured it even though he’d get terrible razor bumps and ingrown hairs.

He hated it then and he still hates it now.

Truthfully, he hadn’t really thought about it since leaving Nebraska, a few months before he actually started his transition. The few partners he had prior to med school (all one night stands) hadn’t been that put off by body hair, so Dennis figured that shaving was purely for cosmetic purposes, and that his mother’s bullshit agenda was just that; an agenda, propaganda to scare him as a child.

It never really clicked to him that, like his mother insisted, some people might actually prefer their partners to be groomed.

When he started Dating Michael Robinavitch, who tells Dennis that he’s a MUNCH (Dennis had never heard that term before and had turned an embarrassing shade of fire truck red when it had been explained to him), and gets his first taste of heaven in the form of Robby’s tongue parting through his folds, lapping at his cunt and wrapping his lips around Dennis’s dick, the idea of shaving goes straight out of the window as he cums so hard the first time, that he pulls on poor Robby’s hair so violently that the older man yelps.

Robby has never complained about his pubic hair. He’s a hairy guy himself, which Dennis adores, so obviously Dennis doesn’t consider the possibility that his boyfriend may not like how bushy he is.

Until, during one very odd shift, he meets a drunken patient who comes in with his (equally as drunk) pals. Talking shit about women’s bodies like they are objects and not people.

“I’m telling you, man!” Dennis overhears one of them say, “some bush is okay, but, like, at least trim the hedges, you know? Went down on her and found a pube in my mouth, total fucking turn off.”

Dennis stills instantly, listening into the conversation as a round of agreement and laughter spills behind the cracked door.

“I prefer ‘em bald.” The patient says, “especially if I’m eating her out.”

Dennis’s brow furrows as the third one adds a comment. “God forbid she has ass hair! I mean, Jesus! You remember Allison? From Chem?”

There’s another round of laughter and shame forms a pit in Dennis’s stomach as the revelation hits. Would Robby prefer him to be hairless? Dennis is on testosterone, his whole lower body is covered in blonde hairs. Does he find it disgusting?

There’s a flare of panic, and suddenly thoughts are running through his mind as he compares his hairy body to the likes of these hairless women that the drunk guys are discussing.

He is quieter for the rest of shift. Quiet enough that Trinity notices almost immediately.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” She asks when they’re chatting. “You’ve got that sad mouse look.”

“I do not have a ‘sad mouse’ look!”

“Do too.” He bites the inside of his lip, head tucking slightly. She instantly goes from slightly joking to straight up concerned. “Dennis? Seriously? What’s wrong?”

“I—“ how does he even go about explaining this, “do you shave?”

She blinks at him. “What?”

“You know— like… down there?”

“I hardly believe that’s your business.” She folds her arms across her chest.

“It’s not— argh— I’ve just been thinking about shaving again, it’s getting to be… too much?”

Trinity raises a skeptical brow. “Uh-huh. Any specific reason why? Are you doing this for yourself? Or for someone else?”

“Myself.” He lies meekly. “I just- it’s been a while, and I get really bad razor bumps, so—“

“Have you ever thought about waxing?” She interrupts.

“Waxing?”

Trinity shrugs. “Yeah? I go to this place called the Wax Bar, the one that’s a few blocks from our apartment, and they’re pretty good.”

“Doesn’t it hurt though?”

“Only for like thirty minutes, then it’s smooth sailing. Figurative and literally.” She grins at him, “I’m going there tomorrow if you want to come?”

He contemplates it for a moment. Then he recalls the men’s conversation from earlier, immediately followed by the made up image of Robby’s face curled in disgust, and agrees. “yeah, alright. Let’s do it.”

Let it be known that Trinity Santos is a complete liar.

Dennis figures that out pretty quickly when the first strip of wax has him yelling expletives that would have his mama washing his mouth out with soap if she’d heard him.

By the end of the session with the very lovely older Russian woman named Lana —who Dennis almost decked at several points, but that’s not relevant— his crotch is red hot and sticking uncomfortably to his boxers.

“You’re walking like you’ve just gotten off of a horse.” She snorts when he glares at her.

“What happened to ‘it doesn’t hurt that bad’?” He hisses.

“Oh quit it. You’re such a baby!”

“This can’t be normal.” He groans, “it feels like fire.”

“It’ll calm down,” she laughs as they get into the car to go home. (Well, Trinity gets into the car, Dennis moves so gingerly that trinity rolls her eyes.)

She’s right. It does calm down. But it took baby oil, and some frozen peas for it to finally stop pulsing.

“How’s it feeling, Huck?” Trinity enters the bathroom without warning while he’s inspecting himself in the mirror. He wraps his towel back around himself, barely managing to conceal himself before she barges in.

“Jesus!” He shouts.

She whistles, clearly catching sight of his naked form just as he covers himself. “Looking smoother than a baby seal!”

“Is the concept of privacy nonexistent for you?”

“Basically.” She shrugs, continuing into the bathroom. “Hope you aren’t planning on seducing our boss tonight, you’re supposed to wait at least 24 hours before having sex after getting a fresh wax.”

He sputters, cheeks going red. “I am not—! We aren’t—! Ugh, you’re impossible!”

He storms out while she cackles.

Dennis does, in fact, not go over Robby’s that night. He wants to, desperately, he wants to, but he refrains. Even when Robby shoots him a text, asking if he’s coming around tonight, he declines. (It’s a hardship on both their parts, but Dennis promises that he’ll come over tomorrow with a surprise, which Robby seems very enthusiastic about.)

He spends the whole night tossing and turning with slight anxiety, then following morning he is hyping himself up in his full length mirror while trying to figure out what to wear.

He settles for the crotchless panties he’d bought himself years ago that he’d never worn, but thought they were too pretty to throw away. It had been hiding in the back of his closet, and Dennis is surprised that they still fit.

The fabric is light blue, satin, with lace on the trim, and a cute bow that sits on the top of his ass. He didn’t dress like this. Ever. But, even he has to admit that it is quite a sight.

“Robby’s going to love it!” He whispers reassurances to himself the whole bus ride to his boyfriend’s townhouse as he fiddles with the hem of his (Robby’s) worn out t-shirt.

He’s feeling very brave when he gets to Robby’s doorstep. Unfortunately, the bravery starts to wane when Robby opens the door and smiles at him.

Dennis doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of seeing the way Robby’s eyes light up when Dennis is in his presence. The way his crows feet become more pronounced, the summertime warmth of his brown irises… he’s so beautiful it’s physically painful to look at him sometimes.

“Hi, Sweetheart.” Dennis blushes at the moniker. Robby’s hand shoots out to grab the younger man by the shirt and pulls him into his arms as he shuts the door behind them.

Dennis grins, standing on his tiptoes to kiss Robby on the lips. “Missed you.”

“Yeah?” Robby chuckles, rubbing the tip of his nose with Dennis’s. “You should’ve come over last night then.”

“I couldn’t.” Robby pulls away, giving Dennis a questioning glance.

“Is this about my surprise?” He asks cheekily.

Dennis’s heart speeds up a bit. He tries to smother the anxiety with false confidence. Fake it til you make it, or however the saying goes.

He nods shyly. Then without warning he toes off his sneakers, and undoes his belt. Robby grabs his hands, joking, “Christ, give a man some warning before you go stripping in my foyer!”

“It’s necessary for your… surprise.”

Robby cocks his head to the side, then his eyes widen comically. “Den, please tell me you got my name tattooed on your ass.”

“What?” He asked bewildered. “No! Why the fuck would I get your name tattooed on my ass? And why the hell are you so damn excited about that?”

He shrugs. “I’m possessive.”

No shit.

“Alright, if it isn’t my name tattooed on your body —which I encourage, by the way—“

“Freak.” Dennis mutters midway through his sentence earning a smack on his butt.

“Then what is it?”

Dennis rolls his eyes and pulls his pants down, stepping out of them entirely to show off his panties and hairless pussy to his boyfriend. Dennis tries to look more enticing than he feels, especially under Robby’s watchful eyes.

He could see in real time the immediate reaction Robby has the second he spots Dennis’s bare cunt because the man, honest-to-god, drops to his knees and glares at Dennis’s body like it has personally offended him.

The silence is deafening, Robby’s hands are on Dennis’s hips, unmoving. Dennis begins to squirm under his critique.

Fingers drift from his left hip to the bands of the underwear that sits on either side of his pussy. “What- what did you do?”

Shame and insecurity pull at Dennis’s navel. Like a skittish animal, he goes to retreat. To put his pants back on, to tell Robby to forget this ever happened, but Robby locks an arm around the back of his knees, keeping him in place.

“I—“ Dennis gulped nervously. “I got waxed.”

Robby pets the smooth skin, “no, I see that. But… why?”

“I thought you’d like it.” He bites his lower lip, “do you not like it?”

He’s silent once again and Dennis really wants to bolt now, the embarrassment too much for him to handle.

“My poor baby,” Robby whines from below, voice breaking as though it was genuinely an emotional moment. “He’s so cold.”

“He? Wha—? Oh!” Dennis lets out a noise of surprise when Robby starts placing kisses against his inner thighs, one hand slipping the pretty panties off of his body.

“These are really nice, Sweetheart. I don’t want you to ruin them.” Robby mutters into his skin. Then he presses his nose and mouth onto the younger man’s cunt, inhaling deeply and frowning.

“Not going to lie, you’re giving me really mixed signals right now.” Dennis admits. Robby doesn’t spare him a glance, too focused on mapping out the bare pussy in front of him.

“He’s so naked. Doesn’t smell like you.” The attending pouts. “You butchered my boy, my sweet baby.”

Dennis rolls his eyes at Robby’s ridiculous performance. “Why the hell did you do this?”

“I…” Dennis’s nerves flare again, uncertain how to answer. “I heard some guys talking about hair down there and that men don’t really like that.”

Robby looks at him like he’s lost his mind as he keeps rambling. “And I just thought, we haven’t really discussed body hair, and you going down on me must be kinda gross because I am- was- so hairy. I figured maybe I ought to do a little… maintenance.”

“Have I ever given you any indication that I dislike your bush?” Robby asks genuinely.

“Well, no, but—“

“I’m a grown man.” Robby states. “I can handle a jungle.”

“Yeah, but those guys—“ he tries to argue.

“Are fucking babies if they don’t eat cunt just cause they’re scared of a little pubic hair.” Robby licks at Dennis’s cock, still somewhat sensitive from the waxing despite how long it’s been since he got it done. “This is nice, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the sentiment, but I want you au natural. Don’t ever do this to my poor baby again.”

Robby smothers himself in Dennis’s pussy, eating him out right there against the doorframe. Making him whine, purr, beg, shout, cum all over his beard and lips til he’s dripping on the floor tiles below.

When Robby stands with a groan, knees cracking, he takes a flushed and dazed Dennis by the hands and smiles down at him lovingly.

“If you ever shave or wax my poor pussy again, I swear to god I will shave my beard. Then we’ll both be sad.” He punctuated the threat with a kiss and a pat to Dennis’s head. “Move it, Whitaker, I gotta keep him warm.”

Dennis stumbles stupidly down the hall, following his boyfriend to the bedroom with only one thought. He cannot go hairless again. As much as he loves Robby, Dennis is entirely sure that he will actually cry if he shaves his beard.

When he catches up with Robby, both void of all clothing, Robby looks down at Dennis’s pussy and sighs. “Next time, just get the fucking tattoo.”

He wishes they could stay this way forever; curled around each other in the safety of their home. It’s not often their days off align, between Robby’s residency and Jack starting active duty, sometimes it’s like living with a ghost rather than his college sweetheart.

Robby stretches with a low groan and looks up at Jack with sleepy eyes. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” Jack says. He kisses between Robby’s eyebrows. “What plans do you have for today?”

Robby hums and kisses the underside of Jack’s jaw. “Nothing yet, but I bet I can think of something.”

They make love slowly, under the covers in missionary, the exact way Jack was told sex was supposed to be. Though, he doubts his high school gym teacher thought he’d be using those half baked, celibacy-forward, lessons as an excuse to kiss his boyfriend all the way to orgasm.

After all these years, Jack still can’t get enough of Robby’s pretty blush. He kisses down his chest, appreciating every inch of glowing pink skin as Robby tries to catch his breath. “We should shower,” Jack mutters against his chest.

Robby groans. “Too tired.”

“You’re gonna regret it.”

“I’ll go after you,” Robby says. He rolls onto his stomach and tugs Jack’s pillow into his arms. Thankfully, he’s cute enough that Jack doesn’t mind the extra laundry.

“You don’t want to join me?”

Robby waves a lazy hand. “We’ll go again later.”

Jack smiles and kisses his cheek. “Looking forward to it.”

When Jack gets out the shower, Robby has fallen peacefully back into sleep. He’s so beautiful with the light shining off his naked back, that Jack can't resist kissing him again before heading to the kitchen. He’s halfway through his first cup of coffee when a familiar truck swings into the driveway.

Jack’s heart sinks. Through the window he watches his mother’s fried blonde hair and his father’s beer gut approach despite his desperate wishes that he was hallucinating.

Before they can knock, Jack rips open the door and forces a smile. “Mom. Dad. Hi.”

“Oh, my boy,” his mother coos. She kisses his cheek, leaving behind a sticky mark, and pushes past him into the house.

His father shakes his hand, and before Jack can get another word out, says, “When you got stationed in Beaufort, we expected you to make more of an effort to see your family.”

Jack’s moth goes dry. “Sorry, sir. It’s been busy on base. I was hoping to get out there soon.”

His father grunts unhappily, but his mother pats his arm. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We know there’s a lot going on.”

“Whose car is that?”

“Wha— uh, excuse me? Sir?”

“There’s two cars in the driveway,” his father huffs. “Don’t tell me you need two.”

“Uh, no, sir.” Jack’s heart thuds under his ribs. “It’s… Robby’s.”

His father frowns. “Robby? Your old roommate?”

“Yes, sir. He’s working in a hospital not far from here, so he came to visit.”

“That’s nice,” his mother says from the kitchen. She’s already digging through his cabinets, taking stock. “I was worried about you being lonely.”

“No, ma’am. I’m alright.”

“Where is he?” His father asks. Jack gapes stupidly, unsure what to say. His father’s frown deepens. “Your buddy came to visit at nine in the morning and you don’t know where he is?”

“No, I do. He—“ the old pipes begin to sing through the walls, “he’s showering.”

“Here?”

“The water at his apartment is out,” Jack lies. “He came here to shower and do some laundry.”

His father nods slowly and shuffles to the living room to do his own investigating. Neither of his parents have taken their shoes off, Jack clenches his jaw thinking of what Robby will say.

“I— uh, I’ll be right back.”

Jack bolts to the bedroom and heaves behind the door. His vision has spots from the stress. On shakey legs, he forces his way into the bathroom.

“Robby,” he rasps.

“Yeah?” Jack shushes him instinctually. Robby pokes his head from behind the curtain. “What’s up?” He whispers.

“My parents are here.” Jack’s hands tremble. “They think your apartment’s water crapped out and that’s why you’re here.”

Robby’s jaw drops. The few times he’s met Jack’s family have been short and unpleasant. “I’ll leave.”

Guilt gnaws at Jack’s stomach. “No, this is your home too.”

“Jack, it’s not worth it. I’ll go to the store or something.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just get back out there before one of them says something.”

Jack obeys and hopes he hasn’t been gone for too long. When he renters the main room, his father is holding a book.

“This yours?”

The blood escapes Jack’s face. His father knows damn well he doesn’t read things like Jane Eyre in his free time. He’s barely forced his lips apart when his father continues.

“I expect this is also Robby’s.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack says.

“He brought a book to shower?” He picks a frame up from the mantel. “And a photo of him and his… grandmother?”

Jack’s throat is filled with cotton. “Robby is living here when I get deployed. Save on rent, and I won’t have to worry about this place.”

“Deployed?” His mother whizzes around the corner. “You never said.”

“When did you get your orders?” His father demands. “Where are you going? When do you leave?”

“I, well, I haven’t gotten them yet,” Jack stutters. “But it’s only a matter of time. They’re feeding us good on base so…” He laughs lightly. “Everyone knows what that means.”

“Oh, my brave boy,” his mother coos. “You call the second you get those orders. I don’t want to miss a minute with you.”

“Yes, ma’am. Of course.”

She wanders off back to the office, and Jack prays she doesn’t rifle through the filing cabinet with his and Robby’s tax forms inside.

His father sets Robby’s photo back on the mantle with a bang. Jack stands at attention and tries to quell the queasiness in his stomach.

“Does this country allow gay service members?” His father’s eyes bore into him. “Did I miss that in the paper?”

“No, sir,” Jack chokes. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second to gather himself. “Technically, gay people can serve, but nobody can know that they’re… um…”

His father isn’t any taller, but he manages to loom over Jack. He looks Jack up and down, mouth twisted. “Are you a faggot, Jack?”

Through a sandpaper throat, Jack croaks, “No, sir.”

“Did I raise a faggot?”

“No, sir.”

“Did I raise a liar?”

“No, sir.” Jack’s jaw quivers.

His father backs away, but only slightly. His heavy squint remains firmly on Jack, seeping to his bones. “Do you have a girlfriend?” Jack’s teeth won’t unclench for him to answer. His father shakes his head. “Of course not.”

“I— we’re busy,” Jack says. “The base— I haven’t had time.”

“You didn’t have time in college either,” his father scoffs. “Jacob always had time. I don’t think he’s been more than a week without a woman since high school.”

“I just—“

Right then, the door creeks behind them. Robby steps out meekly. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says. “I was just heading out.”

“Don’t bother,” Jack’s father says. He looks Robby up and down. He’s never liked him, said he was too ‘soft.’

“Oh, no,” Robby insists. “I have to get something back at my apartment—“

“Where is your apartment?”

Robby gapes for no more than a second, but it’s a second too long. “A few miles from here.”

“Right.” Jack’s father rolls his eyes. He takes a few steps to the hall and throws the guest bathroom door open. “Why didn’t you use this shower?”

Neither of them have an excuse. Robby looks at Jack for help, but he’s shaking like a leaf. He hates it. He hates feeling weak, especially in front of Robby. Jack has spent many nights kissing promises of love, devotion, and protection into Robby’s skin, and now when the time comes he can’t defend him against his own father.

Cruel, pale eyes glare at Jack. “If you’re not shipped out by Christmas,” he seethes. “Make other plans. I don’t want you in my house like this.”

Jack’s voice cracks pathetically. “Yes, sir.”

His father forces his mother out, making some flimsy excuses about some promise to help one of their friends load his truck for something or other that he forgot about and leaves without sparing either of them another look. The door slams and shakes the walls of the house.

“Jack,” Robby whispers. He reaches for him, but the truck hasn’t pulled out of the driveway yet. They aren’t safe yet, this house may never be safe again. Jack yanks himself out of reach and rushes to the kitchen. He downs the cold last half of his coffee and hunches over the sink. After what feels like an eternity, a gentle hand weaves its way over his spine and lands between his shoulder blades beneath his shirt.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Robby says. “I think you handled that well, all things considered.”

Jack laughs, but it isn’t funny. “I shouldn’t have tried to hide you.”

“Jack, come on. I wouldn’t expect you to come out on a whim.”

“I should’ve stood up to him.”

Robby hooks his chin over Jack’s shoulder and massages along his ribs. “What if he called someone? What if he did something to try and get you discharged?”

“He still might.”

“Do you really think that?”

Jack taps the edge of the sink. “No. He’d be too embarrassed to tell everyone why I’m not in anymore.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Robby kisses the back of his neck.

Jack blinks back tears. He can’t let Robby down anymore than he already has. “S’fine.”

Another kiss. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“It is.” Jack swallows. “Sorry for ruining our day.” The tears return.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Robby says. “It’s not even noon. We can take a nap and start all over.”