A Grilling for Mosche

Mosche was not a fan of getting pinned down into a conversation that was obviously about something that would be uncomfortable for him, but he also didn’t have the spine necessary to extricate himself from the situation. You had to wonder how well he would fare if he got put into the classic ‘Prisoners Dilemma’ where cops separated a group and interviewed them in different rooms.

You had a feeling that Mosche would fold like a wet paper bag.

Sabrina got him sitting at the kitchen table. It was, in fact, the first time you’d actually seen the kitchen table get used for anything other than putting stuff down on. Usually, if it was just him, or the two of you, you guys ate over on the couches in the little living area in front of the TV. If you had the girls over you generally went back to your room when you were eating a meal. But it had part of the cleaning and tidying up you and Sabrina had done, and she’d even set the table in preparation for the lasagna.

“Am I in trouble?” Mosche asked nervously as he sat with his hands in his lap, looking like a kid waiting for the principal to call him into the office.

“No,” you said at the same time Sabrina said, “Yes.” You looked at Sabrina, who raised an eyebrow and looked back at Mosche. “Yes.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” he said, a little whiny.

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Did you talk to Tasha today?”

Mosche looked to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “We texted a bit. Why?”

Sabrina grunted. “Because she told us her side of the story, Mosche.”

“Her side of what story?” Mosche asked.

You thought for a moment that Sabrina might actually just kill him. If she had mind powers she probably would have popped his head like a pimple in that split instant. Then she let out a long breath and sat down across from him, folding her hands together in front of her. “Mosche. Whose idea was it for her to have sex with multiple people?”

“Um, hers?” Mosche said. “I didn’t want her to, but I’m a feminist, right? So I can’t tell her what to do with her body, 'cause it’s like… her body.”

“Are you sure?” Sabrina asked.

“I think so?” Mosche said. “Unless being a feminist is bad now?”

You groaned, covering your face with your palm, as Sabrina just closed her eyes for a moment and breathed. “Mosche,” she said. “I meant are you sure it was her idea? Did she say those words and make the suggestion?”

“I… um, yes?” he hedged.

“What exactly did she say?”

“I don’t remember,” he said.

“Do you think maybe that’s a problem?” Sabrina asked.

“Do you think I’m smoking too much weed?” Mosche asked. “Is it affecting my memory?”

“Maybe,” you said.

“No- well, maybe,” Sabrina said. “I mean do you think it’s a problem that you can’t remember how she even suggested it to you?”

“I dunno,” Mosche said.

“God,” Sabrina scoffed, burying her face in her hands in exasperation. “Baby, can you try and talk to him?”

“Mosche, did Tasha say she wanted to have sex with other people, or did you just have that feeling?” you asked.

“I dunno,” he said. “I thought she said it?”

“This is why eyewitness testimony sucks,” you said to Sabrina.

“I know,” she groaned. Then she lowered her hands and looked across the table at Mosche. “Do you want to keep dating Tasha or not?”

“I dunno,” he said. “It’s complicated.”

“If the sex thing hadn’t happened, would you?”

“Maybe,” he said. “But I did meet Bethany.”

“Who is Bethany?” Sabrina asked.

Mosche smiled and looked at you. “She’s that cute Asian girl, remember? The delivery girl?” He looked back at Sabrina. “John helped me get her number, and we’ve been texting. She’s really nice, and I think she wants me to ask her on a date. And I don’t think she’s into the stuff that Tasha is.”

Sabrina had started to turn a little red and you had a flash of a horror movie as her head slowly turned in your direction, her glare levelling on you. “You helped him… get a number?”

You held your hands up defensively. “She was just a delivery driver at our door, and this was in between Mosche’s story and Tasha’s story,” you said quickly.

Sabrina pursed her lips as she eyed you. “We’ll talk about that later,” she said. Then she turned back to Mosche. “You do realise that you’re emotionally cheating on Tasha, right?”

“What? No,” Mosche said. “I’m not a cheater. Tasha and I aren’t exclusive, obviously.”

“She was under the impression that you were heading that way,” Sabrina said. “Fuck, Mosche! You’re being a complete asshole to both of them. Does Bethany know about Tasha?”

“Um, no,” he mumbled, looking down.

“Were you planning on telling her?” Sabrina scolded him.

“No,” he grumbled. Then he looked back up. “But I wouldn’t have gone out with her until after I figured things out with Tasha.”

“Really? Because you’re dodging her calls,” Sabrina said. “That’s right, Mosche. Girls talk too. And I know you haven’t talked to her at all today. So unless you’re going to call her right now and have a grown-up conversation, or at least invite her over here, then no lasagna for you. Got it?”

“That’s not fair!” Mosche whined. “She always goes to the Monday Night open mic at the Chuckle Hut. That’s why I’m not there. She probably won’t pick up the phone.”

“You are such a fucking pussy,” Sabrina grunted. “Figure it out, Mosche. Or no food for you. Or you can call Bethany and tell her you’re seeing someone right now and ask if she’s OK with that.”

Mosche made a face.

“That feeling right there, Mosche?” Sabrina said, pointing at him imperiously. “That’s fucking guilt because you’re being an asshole. So figure it out.”

Mosche stood up and shuffled through the apartment towards his bedroom, his head hung low.

“Shit, baby,” you said softly. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Too late,” she said, and when you looked back at her you were facing her glare all over again. “You fucked up, baby. Not nearly as bad as him, but now you have some explaining to do.”

Breakthebar erotica is powered by Patreon, where OFG chapters are now releasing 5+ chapters ahead. PM if interested in making a Commission.