Pounding Holes

So yesterday I had a guy over. A lover. No names will be mentioned, for obvious reasons.

We're upstairs in my room, "playing chess". "Playing chess" is what I tell my mother I'm doing when I retire to my bedroom with a date or guy friend (unless it's Adam, then we're watching anime - and we actually ARE). Of course she knows we're not playing chess. It's just a way for my dates to save face. I don't give a shit what my mom knows about my sex life, but guys tend to have this weird embarrassment about facing someone whose daughter they've been fucking. *shrugs* Whatevs. Not that I play much these days. Until yesterday, I'd only had one opponent in the last three years or more. But I digress.

We're in bed. Or on the bed. We're moving around a lot, and so is the bed. What can I say, our chess games have always been energetic ones. He's not a big guy, so the bed should take us fine (my last chess opponent was half a foot taller and maybe seventy pounds heavier, and we never had any issues) - but he's strong. Very strong. And we're really giving that bed a workout. So I'm startled, but not entirely surprised, when I hear something crack and the bed drops down half an inch.

"Oh shit, we broke the bed!" I half scream half laugh.

He slows down.

"Don't stop!" I screech.

And I forget about the bed.

After he's gone home, I collapse and fall asleep, but I keep waking throughout the night to a squeaking sound. I tell myself I'll tighten the bed screws and check out the break when I wake up, but I forget. It's only when I go to bed tonight that the bed sinks under me at an angle, and I lean over the side to check out the slats, when I notice the hole. And it's not in the bed.

We didn't break the bed, we broke the fucking floorboard.