I'm sleeping with a Llama

I hadn't done a gig in ages, not since before the whole Wyatt thing, so when Connor Frio bet me I couldn't make §500 in tips, I decided it was time to stop being so lazy and get those fingers strummin' again. Hey, at least I didn't laugh in his face. I can make §500 in tips in the first hour. I tell you, false modesty is not even in my vocabulary.

I asked Wyatt if he wanted to come with me. He spends a lot of time just looking out his bedroom window towards the Egon's house and his former gravesite, although you can't see it because the Alvi's house is in the way. I don't know if he's lonely or he just likes the view, but I thought it might do him good to get out of the house.

He had confided in me that his fondest dream when alive had been to write books. In his new in-between state of existence, he found himself wanting to take up his old life and his old desires again. So while I jammed, he strolled over to the library to use their computer and terrorize the library patrons by his very presence. He could have borrowed my computer, but I'm sure that wouldn't have been as much fun.

After I'd amassed the immodest sum of a couple of thousand simoleans (just to prove my point), I went looking for Connor, to collect my winnings. He paid off quite handsomely, matching my tip money simolean for simolean, so all in all it was a very productive day.

Yikes! This place is the bachelor pad from hell. Why is it that men's taste is all in their mouths? I never noticed it before because the only parts of the house I paid attention to were the sofa and the bed. Oh, and the shower, which may have been designed for one but accomodates two beautifully. Zayne, old girl, this house is in dire need of a little redecorating, and you are just the girl to do it. I promised Travis I wouldn't do it all in pink. I didn't make it too girly, either.

Now that's what I'm talkin' about!

Travis and Wyatt both like it. They say it improves their mood just by being in the room.

Every once in a while, Wyatt forgets that he now has human needs to attend to. I made him clean it up himself.

What Travis has mostly been wanting to do lately (besides flirt with me every time he lays eyes on me and make love to me until I beg for mercy) is work out. It's incredibly important to his career to be in top physical condition. I said nobody who doesn't live on Mount Olympus could possibly be in better physical condition, but he only smirked and gave my behind a playful swat.

Being a natural athlete, he'd been after me to get more exercise. I know I'm a couch potato. To be honest, I'd secretly been wishing I was in better athletic condition. So on one of his days off we went to the gym and stayed the whole freakin' day. I'm living with a maniac. 

 

 

 

To tell the truth, as hard as we worked, we actually had fun together.

"Do  you have ANY idea how sore I'm going to be tomorrow?! 

Buster, your massage skills had better be top notch."

"Oh, baby, you have NO idea."

"Hey, babe, how about that massage right now?"

I was just wishing they'd thought to install a peephole.

 

Didn't I predict my man would be the Llama's first round draft pick?

I thought his minor league uniform was cuter, but I wouldn't say that to him. The main thing I don't like about this one is that they make him stuff his sexy pony tail up under his cap.

I took him out for a fancy meal to celebrate his promotion. I kissed him soundly and told him how proud I was of him. When the waiters started giving us dirty looks we un-superglued our lips and straightened our clothing and hurried home to bed so I could continue showing him how proud I was of him. All night.