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Home Again

“Bloody hell,” Vice declared as he opened the door into their house. “I don’t think I have ever been so glad to get home. I think I am drunk off the smell of house.”

“What does house smell like, exactly?” Mirage giggled.

“Hmm,” he drew in a breath. “Ghosts of your perfume, furniture polish, and Victor’s gym socks.”

“Hey,” Victor protested. “My gym socks are a refined vintage.”

“Keep telling yourself that, whilst the rest of us gag,” Vice replied.

“I smell,” Mirage stepped in. “Vice’s aftershave, and Victor’s shampoo, and staleness.”

“I smell,” Victor followed them into the hall leaving the driver to unload the boot. “Vice’s toy room,” he added optimistically.

“What does my toy room smell like?” Vice asked with a sly grin.

“Lube, vinyl, and leather.” Victor replied readily.

“Is that wishful thinking?” Vice asked conversationally as he claimed a suitcase from the front door and placed it into the front hall.

“Factual thinking,” Victor decided.

“Unpack, shower, food, wine, and
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