He raised his eyebrows at her protest and shot her a look as if to say oh, really, you don't? He was just kidding, of course, and it came naturally to kid about such things. The little warning bell that this wasn't exactly the sort of thing friends usually talked about (or the sort of thing Zelda would be happy to hear about, if he were to tell her) didn't come until a few half-seconds later, and by then it was too late for inhibitions. Maybe he was a little less than sober, too, and that didn't help matters.

"I wouldn't say no reaction," he said. He was vaguely aware that this was a weird thing to be insecure about, how much of an erection he had or hadn't gotten when a woman he had no desire to sleep with undressed in front of him, but her dismissal felt vaguely like an assault on his manhood, which he felt obliged to correct. "And anyway, I was dying, so I had other things on my mind. But anyway — moot point," he concluded, as his brain finally caught up with his mouth and he realized he ought to shut up.

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"Can I let you in on a little secret?" Jo asked reminiscent of the way he asked her earlier in their evening. Then, without waiting for his reaction, she continued in a loud whisper, "Even dying men want sex. Especially dying men." But Alfred had been sad and mopey and Zelda had cured him, so really it didn't matter what he thought of her.

Not one bit.

Taking a sip of her drink, Jo sat back in her chair. "It's okay, though. I'm not offended because, like I said, I don't want to sleep with you."

  

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beautiful set by mj

Alfred quirked an eyebrow at her mention of a secret. When she told him, however, he stuck his tongue out at her in response. As if she knew what dying men wanted, from her wealth of experience on the subject. Alfred actually did know, both from his own personal experience and from being by the side of dozens of men facing certain death in the wilderness. The sort of existential dread that settled in required a bit more than a mindless orgasm to remedy.

Saying anything to that effect would either depress them both or lead her to make fun of him again, and neither sounded desirable at the moment, so instead he leaned back in his chair and sipped his drink again.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Smith," he teased. His glass was empty again (that had happened quickly), and he tipped the empty glass at her. "Another? Or do you have anywhere else to be?"

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Another touched nerve. Oh well, he'd forgive her eventually. "Another time. I should probably go home while I'm still able speak clearly." She shrugged and drained the last of her glass (a near full shot's worth). "Or not home. Zach's, maybe."

She stood on wobbly legs and false saluted Alfred. "Thanks for the rum."

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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beautiful set by mj