Behind closed doors...

Yeah, so last night I posted a short story and I actually wrote three last night. Daniel and myself are going to set up a separate blog for this but in the mean time I'm going to keep this bastard fresh and post my stories up on here. So here we go, enjoy.

BEDFELLOWS
Eight months in and Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt had discussed many things in their relationship. They spoke about the economy, adoption, religion, global warming, whether or not they were pro-choice and what could be suggested to be inappropriate dinner party conversation. One warm night in August they had even gone so far to share their stories of drug and alcohol abuse. However, it had been eight months and neither had begun or wanted to begin a study of their previous sexual encounters.
The main reason for this was obvious. They were both extremely good looking people and even before they had met that one blustery evening in February they were familiar which each other’s reputation. He had read that she took Antonio Banderas and Lucy Liu into a meat cellar and came out about 15 minutes later looking a bit untidy and she had, with some curiosity, watched the sex tape that he had made with Jennifer Love Hewitt.
When the subject arose, it was a little past half past eleven. They both had some work to do in the morning; nothing glamorous, just tax receipts and then a dinner party in the evening. Neither of them even really liked Kirsten Dunst but they liked the free booze and managed to get a baby sitter for the evening. Anyway, it was about 23: 09 when Angelina said something like “you better not stare at Kirsten’s bum or I’ll kick you”. It was quickly laughed aside because they had a small joke that Kirsten Dunst’s bottom was horrid and looked like two mouldy plums. One thing led to another and somehow they started talking about Stanley Tucci. I don’t know why, but they did.
“Yeah, I’ve always found his head to be a bit creepy”, Angelina said to Brad.
“Who, Tucci?”
“Yeah. The baldness seems unnecessary.”
There was a small pause as Brad attempted to reach for words as he would attempt to reach for air.
“But. I thought you fucked him.”
“No!” Yelled Angelina. “Where did you hear that?”
“It was a while ago!” Brad rushed for something to come to his assistance.
“Who told you?” She asked as her face filled with venomous anxiety.
“It was just. Y’know. Well known.”
Defeated she turned onto her side and blew out a small gust of wind before turning around to her him giggle slightly.
“What?” She hissed.”
“Nothing.” There was another pause. This time it was entirely his own. “It’s just. Tucci?”
“Well I heard you fucked Charlize Theron.”
“So?”
“When she was making Monster.”
“Yeah.”
“Not your best moment Brad.”
There was a small cloud in the air now. They had to talk about it. For hours they spoke about who they fornicated with, what it was like and where they did it. Needless to say, there were lots to talk about it. Finally, it got to a point where Brad finally asked.
“So how many?”
It didn’t take them long and they announced to each other, as if in private caves in the Alps, their quite large and intimidating numbers. Turns out Brad was a bit of a slut in the early nineties, y’know when he became known for his role in “Thelma and Louise”. Anyway, Angelina didn’t like that much so she left and spent three days with her sister in San Francisco but she came back and they made up and it was OK. Good, that, such a lovely couple.