Exclusive Excerpt from Shelter in Place
by Simon Strange
“Dude, do I need to kick the door in? Are you okay in there or what?”
Not my imagination! I yelped as I startled, and my iPad tipped off my knee. I grabbed for it with my right hand on instinct, but the lotion made my fingers slick, and it only slowed before it took the plunge. In a sudden panic I lurched forward off the toilet lid to grab it with my left. My jeans, which were around my ankles, trapped my legs—and while I did manage to get a hand on the other side of the iPad, I had already lost my balance.
I toppled sideways, crashed into the bathtub as I tried to catch myself on my shoulder, and barked “Fuck!” as I banged my knee against the tile floor.
“The fuck is going on, Cal?”
“Fine!” I shouted. “I’m fucking… I’m fine I just… I slipped, it’s good, you’re good, don’t… don’t kick the door down or something I—I’m fine, I’ll be out in a second.”
I heard his footsteps leaving the door, at least, so he wasn’t about to come charging in. But he had to think I was… I don’t know, having a stroke or something.
Or, hell—maybe he thought I was jerking off. It’s not like he didn’t have a cock of his own to deal with from time to time, at least.
I grumbled more curses at myself as I carefully heaved off the floor and set my iPad aside and safely away from the mess that I’d clearly become. I washed my hands, wiped down my dick which was just going to have to wait, and made sure to clean up any place I’d accidentally grabbed with my slick hand as I crashed.
When I finally emerged, I had my iPad under my arm and tried to casually slip it back onto the couch.
No such luck.
“Right,” Ross said from the kitchen as I turned around and tried to act like nothing at all had just happened. His eyes were on the couch. “Okay, so… look, I totally get it but like… just do that in the shower or something? And clean the drain after.”
Heat flushed through my neck and face. “I was just… job searching. While I was on the pot.”
He raised critical eyebrow. “Sure. Okay. Well, anyway— there weren’t a lot of options. I got a bunch of canned chili, a bag of flour—whole wheat, it’s all they had. Sugar. Canned pasta stuff—ravioli, speghettio’s, shit like that. No eggs at the store, no milk—and no toilet paper so just like, only use two sheets at a time or just hop in the shower afterward or some- thing. Definitely don’t waste tissue jerking off.”
“Okay,” I muttered. “You’re fixated at this point. I wasn’t jerking off.”
He blinked, and the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile that he managed to resist. “Whatever you say man. It’s natural. Everybody does it, or they lie about doing it. You’re cool, just don’t waste toilet paper, deal?”
“Yeah, alright,” I breathed. “Deal.”
I looked over the collected of cans spread out over the counters and the narrow ‘dining room’ table that was typi- cally unused. It was a lot. But it was hard to say if it looked like an extra two months of food. I reached for a can.
“Whoa,” Ross snapped, and swatted my fingers away. He put a bottle of sanitizer and a handful of rags on the counter in front of me. “Step one. Every time. Understood?”
I picked up the sanitizer and swallowed a groan. “Step one, every time. Understood, sir.”
Ross shook his head and picked up a can with one rag and sprayed it down. I started as well.
I don’t know. Maybe Lawrence was right to think it was all ridiculous. This certainly was.
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