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then came the sex.
    Moans, groans, bedsprings squeaking. Terms of endearment, along with words not quite so sweet, bayed in guttural abandon at the moment of orgasm.
    Sometimes the sex sounds came before the guests left, while the gathering still raged, as though someone had sneaked off for a quickie behind the bedroom’s locked door, their lust-filled grunts camouflaged by the music and drunken voices—camouflaged by everyone but Doug, lying in his bed one floor below.   
     He suddenly heard the door open at the top of the exit stairs and a muffle of goodnights and salutations, then the familiar trample of feet as they descended down to the foyer. The heavy front door opened and slammed shut as they left. Doug breathed a sigh of relief. He could still get a few hours in before his morning run. Turning onto his side, he pulled the sheet up and hugged his pillow, scowling as he willed unconsciousness to come.
    He tried to ignore the voices he still heard, drifting through the radiator into his room. There were fewer of them now, though he couldn’t tell how many. 
    Oh please, please be too tired for sex , he thought, trying to mentally beam the idea up through the ceiling and into his neighbors’ minds.
    He hadn’t even met his upstairs neighbors yet, but was already far too intimate with the bedroom habits of at least one of them, whoever occupied the room above his. Last night he’d been privy to one man asking another to suck his cock, which might have been easier to stomach had Doug not then heard the sounds of the act being performed.
    Doug loved sex as much as the next guy, but being subjected to an audio track of someone else’s nightly intimacy was grating, especially in his sleep deprived state.
     The voices above gained volume, and when he heard what sounded like the beginnings of an argument, he gave up, and with his pillow and blanket, retreated to the spare room.
    His weight bench and punching bag took up most of the space, but he was now thankful he’d put the old sofa against the wall. It was coming in handy. There was no radiator in this room, and it was distanced far enough from the other side of the house to be virtually silent. Curling up on the couch, cocooned in his blanket, he drifted quickly off to sleep.
      When he was awakened by the doorbell, sunshine was streaming through the windows. Doug sat up, groaning as he stretched his back, splinters of pain shooting through one arm. He climbed off the sofa and stumbled out of the spare room, bare feet padding the hardwood floor as he approached the door. He started to reach for the knob then stopped, looking down at himself. He wore boxer shorts and nothing else. He turned the knob and stepped hesitantly into the foyer, peering at the closed front door.
    “Who is it?”
    “Dougy, it’s me,” his brother’s familiar voice said.
    Doug unlocked the door and opened it. His brother Wyatt held a large cardboard box in both arms. “Morning! I brought the last of your stuff.”
    “Thanks,” Doug said, waving him in. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes, yawning as he led his brother into his apartment.
    Wyatt stepped inside and set the box down, then looked around at the living room. “Wow! You’re all unpacked. It looks awesome.” He glanced at Doug, noting his attire. “Did I wake you up? I figured you’d already be back from your run.”
    “What time is it?”
    “Just after nine.”
    “Shit,” Doug said, weaving over to sit on his puffy sofa.
    His brother sat down on the other end. “You all right?”
    “Haven’t been sleeping well.”
    Wyatt raised his eyebrows. They both had the same light brown hair, though Doug noted that his big brother’s hairline was receding somewhat. While they had similar looks, Wyatt’s face was narrower, his body leaner. He was a runner like Doug, but had no interest in lifting weights or bulking up. He said picking up his baby daughter was enough of a workout for him. They also shared the same