The Thrill of It All

David was always rather keen on pushing limits, whether it be musically or how long he could go without washing his hair until someone finally complained. Some were more amusing to push than others and his new lover was no exception. He considered it a little personal victory whenever he’d talked immovable Roger into expanding his sexual palate just a bit. And Christ, you’d think that he’d been raised in a monastery before David got to him; for all he packed in his trousers, he was practically oblivious to or uninterested in all but the most basic of positions and acts. Progress was being made, however. Just the other day, Roger consented to a bit of riding (despite the fact that he insisted it was “for girls”.) And on their way out in the car a week before, Roger had been kind enough to lean over and pleasure the driver. Finally there had been a repeat performance of their Tokyo subway activities on the Tube. Both seemed to get a bit of a thrill out of their frottagey activities, particularly unobserved as they were among the car’s chattering passengers.

The best part about all of this was that it appeared that Roger had gotten rather a swollen head over it. The bassist had begun to think of himself as rather worldly now that he had these new practices to add to his ever-expanding “repertoire of deviance” as he called it. David thought he wouldn’t know deviance if it came up and bit him in the ass. And this was the subject of their drunken argument late one Sunday night. Roger was insisting that he was just as knowledgeable about certain activities as was David. And just as willing to participate, mind you.

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever tried slavery.” David knew he’d hit upon something here and smirked. Roger’s manner hadn’t chance and to the contrary, he simply smirked back at David.

“What? Do you mean like that ‘slave for a day’ nonsense that children do when they lose a game?”

“Something like that.”

“Do I wash your dirty clothes for you then?”

“That’s part of it.”

“Sounds fascinating…and why would you even bother bringing this up?”

“Because, Rog, I don’t think you could handle it.” Roger went stony-faced for the first time since their conversation had begun. Couldn’t handle it?

“What do you mean I couldn’t handle it? What absolute shit! Of course I could!”

“Well, it’s just that…most people couldn’t handle it. And with the sort of person you are, I just really can’t see you lasting very long…”

“Rubbish. I’ll do it. I’ll do it for a fucking week.”

“Would you swear to that?”

“Of course. I mean, how difficult could it be to do your laundry?” He cracked a smile and was about to make an easy joke before David shushed him.

“Right then; a week starting tomorrow. Shall we shake on it?”

“Lets.”

And thus the deal was sealed with a firm handshake. Roger was already gloating internally over his impending victory while David could only smile quietly over what his lover had unknowingly gotten himself into. He’d have felt a little sorry for him if he himself weren’t so pleased with the arrangement. Roger was in rare form in bed later on that night, performing exactly the way you’d expect a man who felt himself superior would. David quite enjoyed himself anyway. Of course he’d have to say farewell to that pride-fueled performance come tomorrow morning…ah well. It would be well worth it anyway. Nothing like a humbled egomaniac.