#play 3

Iole was a minotaur. She was taller than most humanoids, and she’d had her horns professionally sawed off and the stumps smoothed. She dug into the spice bag with a fork that was too small for her hands. The whole meal was too small for her, but she’d be fucked before she let the goblin chip shop owner charge her double for a size appropriate portion. She was in the town of Madcliff, looking for answers and finding none. She checked her bag and flashed a couple of coins the owner’s way. She wondered if she could write it off as a work expense, but thought better of it. It was the king’s coin, either way she sliced it, and he probably couldn’t wrap his silly brain around the divine nature of a spice bag. 

“Hey, champion,” said Iole to the owner. “Know any good shows in town?” 

“Maybe I do,” said the goblin. “Whatcha asking for?”

“I represent his majesty, King Polykrates of the Mazelands,” said Iole. “I’m sure you can be persuaded with some coin.” 

“I’m not some sort of fixer,” said the goblin. “I run a chippy. Buy some stuff, and I can point you in the direction of the hottest show in town. But they’re only here for the next two days.” 

Iole’s stomach growled, and she reluctantly purchased a second spice bag. It came soaking and smelling like delicious corn oil, garlic, and chilies. She couldn’t be too mad about this trade-off, even if it meant travelling back to the Mazelands would leave her funds a bit light. 

“There’s a new kind of play in town. It’s put on by Western Bane Co,” said the chip shop owner. “They call it ‘Pornographie’.” 

“Pornographos?” asked Iole. “I’m familiar with the concept…but as a work of theater?”

“That’s right,” said the goblin. “My dad went to a show and couldn’t stop talking about it…I don’t enjoy speaking to my dad, if you can imagine that.”

“I’m not on speaking terms with my family either,” said Iole. “Though your father sounds like he might have a fixation. When is their next performance?” 

“Tonight sometime. I wouldn’t know, I refuse to attend,” said the shop owner.

---

The Madcliff theater smelled not too dissimilar to the spice bag that she ate. The second bag she purchased rested on her lap as she watched the performance. There was a brief bit of foreplay at the start where a dwarven woman pretended to be a disgruntled librarian and some greyskinned elf pretended to be a patron. After the preamble was done, stagehands in black bodysuits peeled away the facade desks and shelves so the audience could see the elf bouncing the dwarf on an admittedly impressive cock. Not bigger than hers, but big enough to be noticeable. 

She was half hard while watching the scene, but not hard enough for the uniformed ushers to take notice and call her out. She wasn't about to whip it out and start masturbating in a theater; she was a professional, and these idiots might just be her ticket. 

After the show concluded, she and a few others made for the backstage area, and she asked an elf man in a janitor’s uniform who the owner was. 

“Did you catch the show?” he asked. “It’s the lad with the freakish tallywhacker.” 

He gestured, and he could see that the elf from the stage show was wrapped in the arms of an orc woman. 

Most people find orcs intimidating. Mostly, it’s a racism thing. But often, it comes down to height. Most people get freaked out by folks who are bigger than they are. Not Iole, though. She immediately locked eyes with Glasha and cut across the room towards them. 

“Excuse me,” she said, clearing her throat. “I represent a very powerful man, and I was hoping I could have a moment of your time.” 

Ailuin, the elf, was dressed, his body swaddled in a silken robe that mostly hid his frame.

“Sorry, we’re a bit busy at the moment,” replied Glasha, who stroked her husband's long black hair. 

“I was speaking to him…he has a voice, I heard him use it,” said Iole.

Glasha’s eyes widened a bit, and she and her husband took a step back. This woman was unaccustomed to having someone backtalk her quite like that. 

“What is it you want?” asked Ailuin. 

“I represent King Polykrates of the Mazelands, and I wish to extend to your company the honor of performing before him and his court,” said Iole. 

“Absolutely not!” shouted Ailuin as he began to run, only for him to quickly be pulled back in by his wife. 

“Knive ears, baby, c’mon, let’s hear her out,” said Glasha who briefly looked down along Iole’s body. 

“I will not go there, do you know what happens to people there, Glasha? They eat virgins and boil their bones to make soup!” shouted Ailuin. 

“Nobody in the company is remotely virginal, so we should be fine,” said Glasha. 

She gave Iole a placating smile, and Iole responded with a nose-flaring puff. 

“Those are hideous rumors about our kingdom, spread by the propagandists of the south,” said Iole. 

There were other horrible things about the Mazelands, but why did everyone always go with rumors of cannibalism?  She would have left then and there, but she needed something to entertain Polykrates; the man was an insatiable consumer and needed to see something new practically every week like an idiotic child. 

“Look…I understand you’re probably very busy. But we can offer you vast riches…but there is something else. Something I personally want,” said Iole. 

“Let me guess, you want to get fucked by my husband?” asked Glasha. 

“Husband? You’re married and you’re fine with… never mind all that…not really, no…I want to participate in your show…But I want a cut of what Polykrates will offer…Is there a private room we can go to so I can show what I have on hand?”

The three piled into a dressing room that had been cleared out. 

“Alright, gorgeous,” said Glasha. “What makes you special enough that you think we’d choose you over one of our trained actors?” 

Iole hiked up her skirt revealing her long, half hard cock for the married couple to see. She lifted her head away from them as they gawked, and the pair began whispering to themselves after a moment’s viewing. 

“This is why I want to be in your show. The audience can see me as a brief novelty, I can get paid, I can get a sex change spell done on me…and I can flee the Mazelands forever.” 

“...We could just give you the money, you don’t have to be in the show,” said Ailuin.

“That’s not happening,” said Glasha to her husband.

“She’s in distress, I feel like we’re exploiting her otherwise,” said Ailuin. 

“It wouldn’t be the most exploitative thing to happen to me for money,” said Iole. 

“See, she’s on board,” said Glasha. “Plus it would be good for the audience to see you handle a dick.”

“Let’s not talk about that,” said Iole, pulling her skirts back down over her body. “I want out of the Mazelands permanently, and I don’t care what needs to be done.”

---

The Mazelands are a vast labyrinth built centuries ago. They were originally built by an ancient civilization to house the monsters created from their hubristic acts of magic. That civilization died out, replaced and absorbed by others, but what remains of them is their creations. 

Without anyone lording over them, the Minotaurs built a civilization all their own within the Mazelands. Initially, they carved rudimentary homes in the walls of the maze, and then gradually they began to build entirely new structures. The maze ceased being their prison and became a home for generations of minotaurs. The capital city is New Corinth, the vibrant nucleus of the maze. Once, it was a fortress for the ancients who built the maze. Now, it’s a full, thriving city with a palace. 

It was a three-day journey from the southern cave entrance of the Mazelands to the central city. The king’s palace still had the trappings of the fortress that it was built out of. It was the kind of building built to absorb heavy aerial fire from a dragon, but nobody had seen a dragon actually attack the Mazelands. That would require the mazelands to have a horde worth stealing from. 

King Polykrates sat upon his throne with his crown all askew. He wore an oversized green military tunic adorned with tin medals and stars. Beside him, on a slightly more ornate throne, was his wife, Queen Eudoxia. 

He drank wine from a crystal goblet and ate a handful of dates grown on the hydroponics level near the mountain’s peak. He was in a state of being perpetually sloshed, even when ‘sober.’

“Well done, Iole. Well done. I was hoping you would bring home a prize, and you have. I’ve heard tell of this company. Perverts and deviants, every one of them. If I weren’t curious about your work, you’d be in stocks,” said the king of the minotaurs, laughing between every other word. 

“Thank you, I think?” said Ailuin. “You’re a generous host. Since you’re gracious enough to allow us to perform for you. Would you do us the honor of telling us what you’re into?” 

“I don’t think I understand your meaning, elfboy,” said King Polykrates. 

Ailuin winced; it had been years since he had been in a royal court. Not since childhood. He was trying to work out how to speak delicately to the man who was, at the very least, five glasses of wine deep. 

“What kind of…I…sexual acts would you like to watch me and my actors perform?” asked Ailuin. 

“I’m a simple man, I like to hump, I like to drink, and I like to give fealty to the gods,” said King Polykrates. “Do whatever feels natural.” 

Glasha stood beside her husband and Iole. Her eyes kept flickering to Queen Eudoxia and her more ornate throne. It was uncharacteristic of this mad bastard to want to give anyone something that denoted more power, and she made a bold jab. 

“Are you afflicted with the Watcher’s Lust?” asked Glasha. 

Ailuin’s eyes widened, as did Iole’s. They both stared at Glasha and waited for the king to call in his guards and demand that they be executed on the spot. King Polykrates rose, and everyone watched as Queen Eudoxia rested her hand on the king’s. If either were capable of blushing, they would both be as red as a tomato. 

“How could you tell?” asked King Polykrates. 

Ailuin looked at the floor. Iole stared off into the middle distance, sort of falling out of her own body as she waited for more secrets to spill out in this private chamber. 

“Lucky guess, I to feel the Watcher’s Lust, that’s why I allow my husband to fuck all manner of strange and beautiful women,” said Glasha. 

The orc woman reached down and grabbed the length of her husband’s cock through the fabric of his robes. Ailuin winced, and the king could see what the elf was working with. 

King Polykrates bit his lip before turning to his wife. She, too, was admiring the elf’s generous phallus. 

“Every thought about acting, my sweet wife?” asked King Polykrates.

“Never once, but I’m curious,” said Eudoxia, breaking her silence. 

“See knife ears,” whispered Glasha to her husband. “I’m an excellent negotiator. Now you can fuck two women for the price of one.” 

Ailuin just looked down at his wife’s hand, which had an iron grip on his manhood. 

---

“What do you mean masks aren’t used in your theatrical work?” asked Eudoxia as they practiced the preamble for the scene. 

“It’s just not common in plays outside of the Mazelands,” said Iole. 

“Well, we’re going to have to have some made then,” said Eudoxia. 

Ailuin very nearly tore his script in half. He couldn’t have a big, dramatic freak-out now. Otherwise, he was certain that King Polykrates would have him killed.

“Do you have masks that we could perhaps just use for the scene?” asked Ailuin, trying to keep his tone level. 

“My husband will simply pay for it, elf, don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” said Eudoxia. 

“Masks will get in the way of emoting, isn’t it important for the audience to see how you’re feeling?” asked Glasha. 

“That’s what the masks are for. They’re for emoting,” said Iole. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” muttered Ailuin as he read what he wrote for himself and the ladies. 

“Can we do something else about your character?” asked Queen Eudoxia. 

Ailuin could feel a headache develop behind his eyes.

“What’s wrong with my character?” he asked, trying not to scream at Eudoxia. 

“It’s a bit beneath me to have sex with a beggar, can’t we call you something different, something more dignified?” asked Eudoxia. 

“I’m all ears…” said Ailuin before realizing how literal that statement was. “What do you have to offer, your grace?” 

“How about ‘lost traveller’,” suggested Eudoxia. “It’s more rugged, more heroic seeming. Like a member of one of those adventuring guilds.” 

“Fine!” snapped Ailuin. “Fine! Whatever!” 

---

The first night of the play came faster than Iole had anticipated. The stage in the palace was sparsely populated. The only audience was King Polykrates and his evil advisor, Iakovos. Both were stark naked and seated in their chairs. The play originally called for both Iole and Eudoxia to be dressed as Priestesses of Athena, but both of them found that would be in poor taste.  So, their roles were quickly altered to be that of nuns. The black cloth clung to the curves of their bodies, giving them distinct silhouettes. But their faces were hidden behind clay masks. 

Then there was Glasha. She had decided to have a role in the production. She wore more elaborate white robes to signify her position as the Mother Superior. 

They were all sitting in silence, reading in a mock coenobium, when someone behind the set clashed some metal together to create a mock thunder, and that’s when the door burst open and Ailuin fell inside. His clothes were damp, and he was covered in fake blood. 

“Steel yourselves, sisters!” declared Glasha, who was the first on her feet. 

Ailuin did not move as Glasha walked over to him and effortlessly scooped him up. 

“We have to get him out of those damp clothes!” said Iole, sounding things out in a manner akin to mahogany. “Or he’ll catch a cold!” 

They laid him down on the couch and peeled off his damp travelling clothes, and gasped when his freakish cock was revealed. 

“My word,” said Eudoxia, covering her mask’s mouth as she feigned benign aghast. 

“Indeed,” said Glasha. “Why, he’s almost bigger than you, Sister Anita.” 

It was Iole’s turn to cover her mask’s mouth in embarrassment.”Not quite that big, though.” 

“It’s a grievous sin for us to look upon this man with lust,” said Glasha, suddenly becoming a figure of authority for the moment. 

“Although,” said Iole. “I think if we were better directed, our lustful thoughts could be seen as something to be taken care of, then purged later. 

Iole seized the length of Ailuin’s elven cock and began to gently pump it until it became plump, erect, and throbbing. “I’m surprised he hasn’t woken up.” 

Eudoxia hiked up the skirt of her habit and reclined back in her chair to rub her sex aggressively as she watched as Iole gave the ‘unconscious’ traveller a handjob. 

“I think you’d need me to guide you,” said Glasha. “Both of you, disrobe at once.” 

They did as she said, casting all but their habits and masks aside. It was then that Ailuin began to stir. He looked around and found himself surrounded by two mostly naked women. 

“Good, he’s risen,” said Glasha. “Do you like what you see before you, traveller?” 

“I do,” admitted Ailuin sheepishly. 

“Don’t be bashful now,” said Glasha. “It’s unbecoming. You’d do well to do as I command.” 

“I will,” said Ailuin.

“Good,” said Glasha. “Have you ever taken a cock in your mouth before?” 

Ailuin shook his head. 

“Good, this will be a learning experience for you,” said Glasha. She then turned her head to Iole. “Sister Anita. Sit down and let this traveller earn his stay in our convent.” 

Iole gladly reclined back and rested her own erect cock in her hand, eagerly waiting for the elf’s lips to wrap around it. She wondered how much of it he could take. Sure, he was probably fairly experienced, but ‘would he choke on it?’ was the question on her mind. 

“Go slow,” said Glasha. “I wouldn’t want Sister Anita to expend herself so immediately.” 

Ailuin locked eyes with Iole and extended a long tongue from his mouth before it circled the head of her cock. His breath was hot on the tip, and it admittedly made her throb with need. He then wrapped his lips around her and began bobbing up and down like the greedy dickpig she guessed him to be. Iole threw her head back and began to moan. Ailuin’s tongue continued to swirl around her cockhead while he sucked and bobbed. 

Glasha laughed as she watched this. As Iole moved her head, she accidentally looked at the audience, and she could see that King Polykrates was using his evil advisor, Iakovos, as a sex toy. The taller minotaur was bouncing on the king’s cock and moaning like it was the only thing on his mind. This was a good sign. It meant he was enjoying the show. It would be a bad sign if the king wasn’t at least jerking his sweet dick. 

She stopped paying attention though, getting lost in the suckjob the elf was giving her, that’s when she completely lost it and pulled out suddenly, spraying a fat load of cum all over his face. The white semen stuck out on his pale, grey skin, and his tongue snaked out to lick it off. 

“It’s my turn,” said Eudoxia. She grabbed the elf and repositioned the both of them so she was sitting and he was standing. 

Ailuin set out to work immediately, working his cock inside her needy royal pussy. Iole stroked her cock as she watched this scrawny little man plow her kingdom’s queen. 

“That’s it,” said Glasha. “Thrust harder, she’s a big girl, she’s strong. You know she can take it!” 

Ailuin did as she commanded and started thrusting harder. 

Glasha got behind him and repositioned his hands, one fell between her legs and immediately began to circle and tease her clit in time with the thrusts. Glasha then grabbed Iole and positioned her behind him. 

“Your cock’s sufficiently lubed with his spit…use that to your advantage,” said Glasha.

Iole got behind the elf and gradually worked the length of her cock inside his tight assshole. He squeezed her length perfectly and began thrusting out of synch with him, pounding him with twice the force he was using on the queen. 

“Holy shit,” he muttered. “You’re tearing me apart.~” 

“Good,” said both Iole and Glasha. 

Ailuin pressed his face against Eudoxia’s chest, and he quickly found himself sandwiched between the two minotaur women, and his body became slick with sweat and sticky with their hair. It was all too much, he didn’t even bother to pull out as he shot hard into her. 

He then felt a warm sensation as Iole shot her load deep within him. 

*feels his heart jump at the mention of “Luigi” and briefly turns nervously and quietly to take a look at those waiting* *recognizes Matteo’s three friends and quickly turns away* *does not want them to recognize him, but now listens intently to their conversation*

Jonas: Nah… since he threw us out on Monday, nothing… Carlos: Hey, Digga, that was not cool! I’ve never seen him like that before! Jonas: Me neither. Abdi: There must be something going on… maybe because of Sara… Carlos: No, I don’t think so… the vibes didn’t fit! It’s good that they have separated! Abdi: But still he is acting like he was left by the love of his life… Man, I’m really sorry for him… even if he was so extreme to us. Jonas: I don’t think it’s because of Sara… there is something else… and if there was something with his mother, he would have just told us. Carlos: Yeah, and to blame us, we would only think about tits… Abdi *laughs*: Yeah, no, of course… we don't… Carlos: No, we really don’t

*listen to some adolescent goofing around for a while before it gets interesting again*

Abdi: But let’s get back to Luigi… what are we going to do now? He is totally locked up in his room… I think he feels like shit! Carlos: He should also have a wellness day like me and Kiki the other day… really, it was so relaxing… Abdi: Hey Digga, stop it with your wellness… as if you could get Matteo to have a wellness day… Jonas: I don’t know guys… I don’t want to be thrown out again… Abdi: But what if he doesn’t contact us anymore… what if he will hurt himself or something… Carlos: Digga, he won’t hurt himself… he is too lazy for that… no, he will be fine. Bad weeds grow tall. One day he comes up to us, apologizes and buys a crate of beer… Jonas: I tried to text him again. The messages do not arrive. And when you call, only the mailbox answers… maybe his cell phone is fucked up… or he turned it off or something

*remembers how Matteo clunked the cell phone on the floor on Friday* *wouldn’t be surprised if the cell phone didn’t survive that*

Carlos: Chill out, guys and listen to me: He’ll get back to you! Let’s wait until Easter and if we don’t hear anything afterwards, we’ll just stand on his doormat with a crate of beer! Abdi: Okay… but hey Jonas, you let me know if you hear anything from him, right? Jonas: Sure, I will. But at the moment I don’t expect it…

*discovers that the boys change the subject and switches off, because his head starts to rush somehow* *wouldn’t have thought that Matteo is so affected by the fact that, that he broke off the contact to him* *wonders if maybe there was something else going on that was upsetting Matteo, and somehow can’t get over the fact that he might be the reason he’s feeling so bad* *is very worried and would like to go over to Matteo right now and tell him, that it’s not because of him - that he is the problem after all, and that in other circumstances he would be with him immediately and not leave him alone* *remembers their conversation in which Matteo admitted how bad he feels about being alone and only feels worse that he just dumped him without explanation* *has the feeling, that he can hardly think clearly anymore and feels his thoughts circling* *just before it’s his turn he has an idea and wants to go home as soon as possible to put it into action* *luckily he doesn’t have to wait much longer to buy the tickets for himself and Laura* *makes his way home as soon as possible*

2 hours later: *stands with the envelope with the drawing in his hand and palpitations in his chest a few meters away from Matteo’s house and realizes that he only thought up to this point, but no further* *hasn’t the slightest idea how to get into the house* *can’t just ring the bell and then throw the envelope in, after everything* *attempts to stay hidden behind a tree while he thinks and feels like a criminal, who doesn’t want to be caught* *looks around in a slight panic every few seconds, fearing that Matteo will show up somewhere or look out of the window* *finally has the hope that the front door is perhaps only leaning against the wall and approaches the house* *presses against the door and mumbles “Fuck!” when he notices that it is locked* *looking for help at the doorbells and finally, without thinking, presses the bell on the bottom* *hears the buzzer after a few seconds and presses the door open* *stands opposite an elderly lady at the lower apartment and stammers* Um… hello, sorry to bother you, but I have a letter for the flatshare upstairs and nobody’s answering… may I please? *points to the mailboxes* *the lady looks and waves: “Go ahead, my boy! But close the door properly, okay? Sometimes it doesn’t close properly and you don’t want strangers to stay in the hallway… ”* *nods* I will! Thank you very much! *sees her nod once more and then close her door* *searches for the flatshare’s mailbox and breathes deeply once more before he throws the envelope into the right box* *looks longingly in the direction of the stairs and painfully realizes that he is somehow quite close to Matteo* *hopes that his drawing can cheer him up at least a little* *flinches violently when a door is opened upstairs and falls back into the lock with a loud bang* *flees quickly*

Jonas: Nee… seit er uns Montag rausgeworfen hat, nix mehr… Carlos: Ey, Digga, das ging gar nicht! So hab ich den noch nie erlebt! Jonas: Ich auch nicht Abdi: Der hat doch irgendwas… vielleicht ja doch wegen Sara… Carlos: Nee, glaub ich nicht… die Vibes haben echt nicht gepasst! Ist gut, dass die sich getrennt haben! Abdi: Aber trotzdem tut der so, als wäre er von der Liebe seines Lebens verlassen worden… Mann, der tut mir voll leid… auch wenn er so krass zu uns war. Jonas: Ich glaub auch nicht, dass es wegen Sara ist… da ist irgendwas anderes… und wenn was mit seiner Mutter wäre, hätte er es ja wohl auch einfach gesagt. Carlos: Ja, und uns vorzuwerfen, wir würden nur an Titten denken… Abdi *lachend*: Ja, nö, is klar… machen wir nicht… Carlos: Nee, echt nicht…. *hört eine zeitlang pubertäres Rumgeblödel, bevor es wieder interessant wird* Abdi: Aber mal zurück zu Luigi… was machen wir da jetzt? Der verbarrikadiert sich ja total in seinem Zimmer… Ich glaub, dem geht’s echt kacke! Carlos: Der sollte auch mal so’n Wellnesstag einlegen wie ich und Kiki letztens… echt, das war so entspannend… Abdi: Ey Digga, hör mal auf mit deinem Wellness… als ob du Matteo dazu kriegen könntest, n Wellnesstag zu machen… Jonas: Ich weiß nicht, Jungs… also ich will mich echt nicht nochmal rauswerfen lassen… Abdi: Aber was ist, wenn er sich nicht mehr meldet… nicht, dass der sich was antut oder so… Carlos: Digga, der tut sich nichts an… dazu ist der viel zu faul… nee, der wird schon wieder. Unkraut vergeht nicht. Irgendwann kommt er angeschissen, entschuldigt sich und gibt n Kasten Bier aus… Jonas: Ich hab nochmal versucht, ihm zu schreiben. Die Nachrichten kommen nicht an. Und wenn man anruft, geht nur die Mailbox dran… vielleicht ist ja auch sein Handy im Arsch… oder er hat’s aus oder so *muss daran denken, wie Matteo das Handy am Freitag auf den Boden gepfeffert hat* *Würde es nicht wundern, wenn das Handy das nicht überlebt hätte* Carlos: Chillt mal, Jungs und hört auf mich: Der meldet sich wieder! Lasst mal noch Ostern abwarten und wenn wir danach nix hören, dann stehen wir einfach mit nem Kasten Bier bei ihm auf der Matte! Abdi: Okay… aber ey Jonas, du sagst Bescheid, wenn du was von ihm hörst, ne? Jonas: Klar, mach ich. Aber momentan rechne ich echt nicht damit… *stellt dann fest, dass die Jungs das Thema wechseln und schaltet ab, weil sein Kopf irgendwie zu rauschen beginnt* *hätte nicht gedacht, dass es Matteo so sehr mitzunehmen scheint, dass er den Kontakt zu ihm abgebrochen hat* *fragt sich, ob vielleicht noch irgendetwas anderes vorgefallen ist, was Matteo so fertig macht und kommt irgendwie gar nicht damit klar, dass er die Ursache dafür sein könnte, dass es ihm so schlecht geht* *macht sich große Sorgen und würde am liebsten sofort bei Matteo vorbei fahren und ihm sagen, dass es nicht an ihm liegt – dass er selbst doch das Problem ist und dass er unter anderen Umständen sofort mit ihm zusammen wäre und ihn nicht alleine lassen würde* *fällt dabei wieder ihr Gespräch ein, in dem Matteo zugegeben hat, wie schlimm er allein sein findet und fühlt sich nur noch schlechter, dass er ihn ohne Erklärung einfach so abserviert hat* *hat das Gefühl, kaum noch klar denken zu können und spürt seine Gedanken kreisen* *hat kurz bevor er an der Reihe ist aber eine Idee und möchte so schnell wie möglich nach Hause, um diese in die Tat umzusetzen* *glücklicherweise muss er nicht mehr lange warten, bis er die Tickets für sich und Laura kaufen kann* *macht sich schnellstmöglich auf den Weg nach Hause*

--------------------------------------------------------- 2 Stunden später: *steht mit dem Umschlag mit der Zeichnung in der Hand und Herzrasen in der Brust einige Meter von Matteos Haus entfernt und stellt fest, dass er bis zu diesem Punkt gedacht hat, aber nicht weiter* *hat nämlich nicht die geringste Ahnung, wie er ins Haus kommen soll* *kann schließlich nicht einfach klingeln und dann den Umschlag einwerfen* *versucht, hinter einem Baum verborgen zu bleiben, während er überlegt und kommt sich vor, wie ein Schwerverbrecher, der nicht ertappt werden will* *sieht sich leicht panisch alle paar Sekunden um, da er befürchtet, dass Matteo irgendwo auftaucht oder aus dem Fenster schaut* *hat schließlich die Hoffnung, dass die Haustüre vielleicht nur angelehnt ist und nähert sich mit schnellen Schritten dem Haus* *drückt gegen die Tür und murmel „Fuck!“, als er feststellt, dass sie verschlossen ist* *schaut hilfesuchend auf die Klingeln und drückt schließlich ohne nachzudenken, auf den unteren Namen* *hört nach wenigen Sekunden den Buzzer und drückt die Tür auf* *steht einer älteren Dame in der unteren Wohnung gegenüber und stammelt* Ähm… hallo, entschuldigen Sie die Störung, aber ich habe einen Brief für die WG oben und es macht keiner auf… darf ich vielleicht kurz? *deutet auf die Briefkästen* *sieht die Dame abwinken: „Mach nur, mein Junge! Aber mach die Tür gleich wieder richtig zu, ja? Die schließt manchmal nicht richtig und man will ja nicht, dass sich hier Fremde im Hausflur aufhalten…“* *nickt* Mach ich! Vielen Dank! *sieht sie noch einmal nicken und dann ihre Türe schließen* *sucht bei den Briefkästen den der WG und atmet noch einmal tief durch, ehe er den Umschlag in den richtigen Kasten wirft* *wirft dann sehnsüchtig einen Blick Richtung Treppe und stellt schmerzlich fest, dass er Matteo gerade irgendwie ziemlich nah ist* *hofft, dass ihn seine Zeichnung zumindest ein bisschen aufbauen kann* *zuckt dann heftig zusammen, als oben eine Tür geöffnet wird und mit lautem Knall wieder ins Schloss fällt* *ergreift schnell die Flucht*