S_N: Bathing Xander
Tonight, friends, tonight was the BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE. Ever. And it's not even over yet. Tara is performing an ancient ritual on Xander for something or other, I think some kind of perfecting spell? Something? Maybe something to make him all manly and sexy to the ladies? Anyway, she asked me to assist her...
By bathing Xander.
First, I bathed myself. Cleanliness is next to godliness and only godliness should be next to Xander Harris. I was careful to trim my little sideburns. Xander once complimented them. After I suggested that he grow them out a little, he said, "Naw. Too gay." And I stopped making facial hair suggestions to him after that.
But I digress. After the shower, I stood in my gigantic closet and surveyed my wardrobe. The greatest thing about being a dot-com gazillionaire, besides the notoriety, fame and plastic surgery, is the clothes. I have wonderful clothes now. After Warren went up the river for his blue collar assault on white collar roleplayers, I not only appropriated his shares of the company we built with Jonathan (R.I.P. Little Jon Jon), but also his shoe collection. It's a little known fact that Prisoner Mears and I wear the same shoe size. And, even lesser known, that he had fabulous taste in shoes! Seriously. Italian leather oxfords, customized trainers, darling little sanmandals ... beautiful, expensive stuff.
I lifted Warren's favorite pair of wingtips to my nose and sniffed slightly. Mmmm... Warren foot smell. So arousing. So shameful. So... Hey, wait a second! He couldn't yell at me for shoe huffing anymore! I can huff all I want! I fought the urge to laugh my rarely-used evil laugh. Oh, why not?!
MWA HA HA HA HA!
He was in the Big House, and I was the big boss man, so screw you, taxpayer! I can do what I want!
But, the task at hand. Bathing Xander. I looked at my clothes more critically. What was a good Bathing Xander outfit? I shouldn't wear evening wear. Too formal. It said "stuffy," if you ask me. Jeans and a t-shirt was too casual though. Hrm. Tennis outfit, no, the shorts were too short. I'd look slutty. Perhaps ... aha!
Blue velour tracksuit it is!
I dressed carefully in front of the wall of mirrors. I wish I had someone around to tell me how I looked from behind. I mean, someone besides Tara. It was nice having her as a roommate, because the house was too big for little old me, but she wasn't a very good dresser. And she was a HORRIBLE fashion consultant. You always hear about gay men being good at fashion -- apparently that doesn't apply to gay girls. I'll have to hire a gay man to help as a stylist. Or just help around the house. Do people have butlers anymore? Would having a gay butler be weird? Or is it redundant? Does everyone know this kind of stuff but me?
I wore my own shoes, not Warren's, for tonight. White adidas with blue 3-Stripes that matched my tracksuit. A little pomade in my hair, a little powder on the nose, and... yes.
I looked pretty good. Kinda sporty. Definitely casual. Semi-manly. Passable as... you know, a straight guy.
I tip-toed around the gay with Xander. I didn't want him to know. If he didn't know already, then I certainly wasn't going to tell him. If I told him, it would move to the next logical question, which is 'do you have a crush on me?' -- to which the answer is of course, Yes.
Yes, desperately. The crush I've had on that man. For so long. Tara knew. But lesbos know that kind of stuff. Jonathan knew, but... well, as I mentioned, he's dead and gone now. Warren thought the only person I could ever have a crush on was him, so we never talked about it. Warren was a jealous bitch, I'll tell you what. I'm glad he got arrested.
But Xander. Oh, yes. I had a crush on him. And tonight... tonight, I would bathe him. Within an inch of his life. In the nude.
By bathing Xander.
First, I bathed myself. Cleanliness is next to godliness and only godliness should be next to Xander Harris. I was careful to trim my little sideburns. Xander once complimented them. After I suggested that he grow them out a little, he said, "Naw. Too gay." And I stopped making facial hair suggestions to him after that.
But I digress. After the shower, I stood in my gigantic closet and surveyed my wardrobe. The greatest thing about being a dot-com gazillionaire, besides the notoriety, fame and plastic surgery, is the clothes. I have wonderful clothes now. After Warren went up the river for his blue collar assault on white collar roleplayers, I not only appropriated his shares of the company we built with Jonathan (R.I.P. Little Jon Jon), but also his shoe collection. It's a little known fact that Prisoner Mears and I wear the same shoe size. And, even lesser known, that he had fabulous taste in shoes! Seriously. Italian leather oxfords, customized trainers, darling little sanmandals ... beautiful, expensive stuff.
I lifted Warren's favorite pair of wingtips to my nose and sniffed slightly. Mmmm... Warren foot smell. So arousing. So shameful. So... Hey, wait a second! He couldn't yell at me for shoe huffing anymore! I can huff all I want! I fought the urge to laugh my rarely-used evil laugh. Oh, why not?!
MWA HA HA HA HA!
He was in the Big House, and I was the big boss man, so screw you, taxpayer! I can do what I want!
But, the task at hand. Bathing Xander. I looked at my clothes more critically. What was a good Bathing Xander outfit? I shouldn't wear evening wear. Too formal. It said "stuffy," if you ask me. Jeans and a t-shirt was too casual though. Hrm. Tennis outfit, no, the shorts were too short. I'd look slutty. Perhaps ... aha!
Blue velour tracksuit it is!
I dressed carefully in front of the wall of mirrors. I wish I had someone around to tell me how I looked from behind. I mean, someone besides Tara. It was nice having her as a roommate, because the house was too big for little old me, but she wasn't a very good dresser. And she was a HORRIBLE fashion consultant. You always hear about gay men being good at fashion -- apparently that doesn't apply to gay girls. I'll have to hire a gay man to help as a stylist. Or just help around the house. Do people have butlers anymore? Would having a gay butler be weird? Or is it redundant? Does everyone know this kind of stuff but me?
I wore my own shoes, not Warren's, for tonight. White adidas with blue 3-Stripes that matched my tracksuit. A little pomade in my hair, a little powder on the nose, and... yes.
I looked pretty good. Kinda sporty. Definitely casual. Semi-manly. Passable as... you know, a straight guy.
I tip-toed around the gay with Xander. I didn't want him to know. If he didn't know already, then I certainly wasn't going to tell him. If I told him, it would move to the next logical question, which is 'do you have a crush on me?' -- to which the answer is of course, Yes.
Yes, desperately. The crush I've had on that man. For so long. Tara knew. But lesbos know that kind of stuff. Jonathan knew, but... well, as I mentioned, he's dead and gone now. Warren thought the only person I could ever have a crush on was him, so we never talked about it. Warren was a jealous bitch, I'll tell you what. I'm glad he got arrested.
But Xander. Oh, yes. I had a crush on him. And tonight... tonight, I would bathe him. Within an inch of his life. In the nude.