"The floor’s made of tile,” Armisen said. “Why don’t we try to avoid any more slip-ups today, huh?”Deflated, Carson waited out on the balcon..., sipping on his wine while the bathwater crashed behind him. He felt the summer wind whipping through his hair as the surf thundered below, the air briny and warm.Things were suddenly so awkward. He didn’t know what was supposed to happen next--was Armisen ever going to get around to fucking him?What was he supposed to do?Carson turned around and walked. The couple were certainly scruffy and shifty, checking all sorts of low value produce, the squat, swarthy bloke doing all the checking and the tall, willowy, raven haired, younger female tagging close behind. They both wore black bomber jackets. His was over dirty jeans and Timberland boots, I mean they’re not cheap. She had good, bare legs buried into black biker boots with laces half down, not a pretty sight. Her skirt was blue denim knee length. They both wore neckerchiefs, his the. More

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