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On the other side of the block lived Chucky G—. I'd known him soon after moving to the suburban neighborhood years ago. The inside of the G— house always had a peculiar odor, not so much unpleasant as noticeable. Every room had its mess, from the kitchen's Everfull Sink to the living room's clutter to Chucky's bedroom littered with clothes and sports crap. Chucky seemed the embodiment of his house too, his skin a shade darker than everyone else I knew, like unwashable grime, gangly, and a wide grin that promised playfulness.

Why Chucky wanted to play with little lead figures, faceted bits of rolling plastic, and books of endless charts and listings of monsters and magic never made sense. Chucky played football. Chucky sweated, had soiled armbands and socks and somewhere a jockstrap in the piles of his room.

During summer, we played all the time. Some nights Chucky’s father, a man with a bristly mustache and a new job every month, would join them exploring dungeons or floating castles. Now and then we'd abandon swords and steeds for ray guns and jetpacks. But mostly it was just Chucky and me lounging around the bedroom or living room.

One afternoon, as sunlight played across the tired pale paint above the sofa, I decided there’d be no battles that day. Chucky's warrior, a hero to them both, had come to a new kingdom and found himself greeted by the young and beautiful princess.

We both sat there, nursing Cokes in sweating cans. Chucky and me, not the warrior and the princess; they sipped wine from heavy golden goblets.

I am so happy that you graced my castle, Sir T—. I have long heard of your exploits.

Chucky wiped his mouth missing some wetness that clung to the few fine hairs he had grown on his upper lip. Thanks for the invite, Princess S—. I am tired from defeating the Forest of Spiders and could use a bath and a soft bed for the night.

I stifled a laugh. I always thought Chucky joked about bathing but his hero seemed to crave soapy water after every dungeon crawl. So I smiled and mock tipped the soda can towards his friend. Of course. My servants will prepare for all your needs.

All of them? Chuckey had a strange smile on his face.

I remembered seeing that expression before. Had it been last week? We'd been upstairs, playing a spy game and Chucky's femme fatale had offered my agent a handjob. That had given me pause, abandoning the storyline. What was a handjob, I'd wondered, trying to remember if it was some martial arts technique covered in the handbook. Finally, a bit embarrassed that Chucky knew something I didn't, I asked him.

Chucky had laughed a while. It's when a girl grabs your boner and yanks it until you’re done.

Oh. The percentile dice in my hand had tumbled down onto the floor. I never looked at the result. His face had felt hot. The sex between his spy and the femme fatale had lasted less than a minute or two, as Chucky described it, before I was off to kill the Soviet mole. Later, during the five-minute walk home, I'd used the rulebook to hide the stiffness in my crotch.

I found himself saying back to Chucky, Of course, good knight. Whatever you wish that is within my power to grant.

You're alone here?

I nodded solemnly. A dragon came and slaughtered many. My father, the king… his last proclamation promised my hand to whoever killed the beast.

A dragon? I'm glad I came here. Tomorrow I will slay the monster.

You would save us all?

Chucky put down his Coke on the dun-colored carpet. He stood up and drew an imaginary +3 bastard sword. Only if you agree to marry me. Chucky’s brown eyes met mine.

I swallowed hard, feeling a bit unsteady. Where and why was their acting headed? I normally could predict every one of Chucky's moves during a game, but not now.

More than the princess spoke. You want me?

The hero of Iris Lane nodded, surprising the princess by moving forward, straddling where she sat on the old velour sofa.

I could smell the sweetness of the cola on Chucky’s breath. My asthmatic lungs seized for a moment and I wondered if I'd have an attack right before… before something happened. I realized how hard my dick was. I worried that Mrs. G— would come home hours early from her nursing job to find us... I didn't dare imagine how she’d find us.

Aren't you lonely?

The princess nodded several times. I'd been lonely so long, even when among friends I'd felt outside their camaraderie.