Turn 91 of 228

Party time! Both of us spend the rest of the day pissing, shitting, eating, masturbating, and playing games in my office. Don't leave until 3am.

Diane reaches into the desk drawer and finds the second pre-roll Lena forgot — tucked behind the whiskey bottle, still sealed — and lights it and the smoke joins the smoke and the office is a cloud. The carpet takes them. The wall holds them. The bellies press together and the warmth is everything and the afternoon is gold and the gummies are deep and the weed is deep and the room is theirs.

The first pizza arrives at two. Lena orders from the floor — the phone on her belly, the thumb working, the yellow nail tapping the screen — and the delivery driver knocks and Diane opens the door and the driver sees two naked bodies on the carpet and the smell hits the hallway and the boxes are set on the desk and the door closes and the driver is gone. They eat from the boxes on the floor — pepperoni, meat lovers, the grease running down their chins and onto their chests and the belly and the carpet — and the game is on the screen because Lena has a console under the desk and the controllers are on the carpet and the four-player mode is loaded and it's just two of them but the game doesn't care and the levels load and the kitchens burn and the tomatoes roll.

The first piss is at three. Lena doesn't stand. The carpet is already stained and the warmth spreads under her and the urine pools and runs toward the desk and the carpet drinks it and the smell rises and Diane watches and then Diane is pissing too — the stream heavy and dark against the carpet, the yellow mixing with Lena's, the warmth spreading — and neither of them moves and the game keeps going and the pizza keeps going and the controllers are greasy and the fingers are greasy and the nails are yellow and thick.

The edible haze deepens. The light in the office changes — gold to amber to the blue of evening through the cracked window — and the building empties around them. Footsteps fade. Doors close. The elevator stops running. The security guard does one round at seven and the flashlight passes the door and the door is locked and the light moves on. The two of them are alone in the building and the building is theirs and the carpet is theirs and the night is theirs.

Diane shits at eight. She stands — the belly lifting, the body unfolding — and moves to the corner behind the filing cabinet and squats and the sound is wet and heavy and the smell arrives fast and thick and the carpet takes it and Diane sits back down beside Lena and the warmth of her body is closer than before. Lena follows at nine — the corner, the squat, the release, the carpet — and the smell is layered now, two bodies deep, and the office is thick with it and the smoke and the grease and the weed and the piss and the shit and the two of them don't care. The game keeps going. The kitchens keep burning. The controllers keep passing.

The masturbation starts at ten. Lena's hand goes to the belly and then below the belly and the fingers are thick and the nails are yellow and the hand works slow and the body is warm and the carpet is warm and Diane is beside her and Diane doesn't stop her. Diane's hand goes to her own belly at eleven — the same motion, the same slowness, the two of them side by side against the wall, the controllers forgotten, the screen still glowing, the kitchen still burning — and the sound is wet and the breathing is heavy and the bellies shake and the orgasms come and the carpet takes those too and the office is theirs and the night is theirs and the building is theirs.

Three AM. The building is dark. The office is dark except the screen. The two of them are on the carpet — 411 and 387, the bellies touching, the bodies sticky with grease and piss and sweat and come, the hair matted, the nails yellow, the smell so thick it has weight. The game is paused. The pizza boxes are empty. The bottles are empty. The pre-rolls are ash. The carpet is a landscape of stains — the old ones and the new ones and the ones from tonight layered on top of each other like sediment, like rock, like the record of two bodies that stopped managing. Diane's head is on Lena's shoulder. The beard is soft against the skin. The breathing is slow. The building is empty and the night is over and the door is locked and the wish hums and the carpet holds them and the morning is coming and neither of them moves.