Mosche Comes Home

The three of you were a mess. Not in a sexual way, you just knew that you looked a little ridiculous.

Gemma and Sabrina, once you invited them, dropped off their bags with fresh outfits to store at your place in your room and discovered the cleaning you’d been doing. That got you kisses, which developed into full-on make-out kisses when Gemma discovered the freshly cleaned washroom as you finished the kitchen. The girls ended up helping you clean the last main area of the apartment; the living room.

On the face of it, the living room wasn’t that dirty. You also were able to assure yourself that most of the garbage was Mosches doing. Once that was taken care of though, the girls wanted to move the couch and the chair to vacuum properly. Your insistence that such an idea might not turn out the way they thought it would went unheeded, and soon you were shifting the couch.

There wasn’t a dead animal back there, but somehow there was enough hair that there was no way it could have come from a person. Your best guess was that Mosche or his roommate had maybe had a long-haired cat for a pet. Or, quite possibly, the cat or dog had belonged to some other tenant who had lived in the apartment before them.

Once the entire living area was cleaned, including dusting the window shades and wiping down all the surfaces - something you insisted on using gloves for considering how you had caught Mosche doing things when he thought he was going to be alone for a while - the three of you collapsed onto the freshly cleaned a Febreezed couch. Soon you had a rerun of The Other Guys playing from the movie channel, the pizza was half-eaten, and you each had a beer in hand. All three of you were sprawled across each other on the couch. You were leaning sideways, your face resting on Gemma’s butt as she was on her stomach. Your hand that wasn’t holding a slice of pizza was massaging Sabrina’s foot as she was laying in the opposite direction. Occasionally Gemma would kick her foot up softly while she was laughing at the banter between Will Ferrel and Mark Wahlburg, and you would lean over and plant a kiss on her ankle or the top of her foot.

That was how Mosche found the three of you when he came back to the apartment. All three of you looked over to the door as he was unlocking it, and Sabrina muted the movie.

“Oh, hey guys,” Mosche said, realizing you were there.

“Hey, buddy,” you said. “You OK?”

Mosche was dressed as he usually did, which was to say somewhere in the shabby-chic department with a zip-up hoodie that didn’t quite fit him, cargo shorts and flip-flops that probably needed to be replaced. The reason you asked was more based on the fact that he looked about as down as you’d ever seen him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he sighed.

“Mosche, you don’t need to play tough with us,” Sabrina said, sitting up and standing. She took a slice of pizza out of the box and a beer from the six-pack and brought it over to him, pushing them into his hands. “Come on, tell us what happened.”

“But it’s embarrassing,” he muttered sulkily.

“Well, maybe we can help make it less embarrassing,” Gemma said, also sitting up. That caused you to lose your butt-pillow so you sat up as well. You were less thrilled about helping Mosche work through whatever thing was going on with him. Not because you didn’t want to help him, but because the girls were there to experience whatever hole that Mosche had gotten himself into.

“OK,” Mosche sighed and walked over to the living area, taking a bite of his pizza. Then he sat next to you on the couch instead of taking the chair, which Sabrina went and sat in cross-legged.

“Give it to us straight,” Sabrina said, leaning forward. “That’s the only way to handle something that puts a frown on a guy's face like you have.”

“It’s weird, though,” Mosche said.

“Did it happen today, or sometime this weekend?” Gemma asked.

“Both, sort of,” Mosche said.

“Well, what happened this weekend?” Sabrina asked. “Start at the beginning.”

“Well, I guess it started on Friday,” Mosche said. “Tasha and I did the holiday weekend open mic, and she got talked to about doing the opening spot for a Comedian that was coming through on Sunday, so yesterday. She got the earliest time slot so it wasn’t a huge deal, but it was still a gig. After the open mic we got drinks, and she said she wanted to celebrate. She ended up… well, she picked up a girl at the Comedy Club, and brought her and me back to her place, and we sort of…”

“You had a threesome with Tasha and another woman?” Gemma asked.

“That’s awesome, isn’t it?” Sabrina asked.

“It was good,” Mosche nodded.

You could almost see where this was going like you were reading a map. Which wasn’t fair, considering you already knew what Tasha had been asking Mosche for.

“So what happened to make it a problem?” Gemma asked.

“Well, after the, um, threesome with the girl from the bar, we spent all Saturday together and I met some more of her friends. Then we went out to a bar that night, and we met up with more of her friends, and, um, she was still celebrating that she got the opening spot I guess and she ended up wanting to celebrate. With, like, more than me.”

Here it comes, you thought.

“What, like, with a party?” Sabrina asked.

“You could call it that,” Mosche said.

“Mosche, honey, you’ll need to be a little more descriptive,” Gemma prompted him.

Mosche looked over at you pleadingly, not wanting to say it out loud.

“You had another threesome?”

“Sort of,” he said.

“More than that?”

He nodded.

“And she invited other guys,” you guessed.

He nodded again.

“How many other guys?” Gemma asked, a little surprised.

“Four,” Mosche said. “So five, including me.”

“Jesus,” Sabrina said, sitting back. You knew her well enough that she was imagining what that would feel like. “That’s way too much.”

“Are you OK?” Gemma asked. “Did you all-?”

“It was kind of one after another,” Mosche said. “She really liked it.”

“But what about you?” Gemma asked, and then guessed. “You didn’t.”

Mosche shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I liked part of it.”

“Oh, Moschey,” Sabrina sighed, reaching over and taking his hand sympathetically. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

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