Two straight colleagues

Carlos and Miguel had been working together at the real estate agency for three years. Two normal guys, the kind who grab a few beers after work and talk about soccer and women. Carlos, dark-haired, athletic build, always bragged about his conquests. Miguel, blonder, a bit thinner but with a good physique, was the more discreet of the two but just as much of a womanizer.

That morning they had closed the sale of the century: a luxury chalet on the outskirts that had been on the market for months. The commission was brutal, almost six months' worth of salary for each of them.

"Damn, Miguel! We're the freaking bosses!" Carlos shouted as soon as they left the notary's office, giving him a hug that almost knocked him to the ground.

"Damn, what a high! Tonight we're going out to celebrate and screw everyone else," Miguel replied with a grin from ear to ear.

They started at their usual bar, where they were known. Whiskey, beers, more whiskey. The euphoria of the money made them feel invincible.

"With this cash, I'm going to buy a bike that you won't believe," Carlos said, already with his tongue loosened.

"And I'm taking off for a week to Ibiza, dude. To see if I can screw some Swedish chick," Miguel replied, laughing.

At eleven, they decided to change venues. They went to a more modern pub, where there was a younger crowd. Both tried to pick up different girls, but the drunkenness was already evident, and they didn't have much luck.

"The chicks are really weird today," Carlos grumbled after a dark-haired girl told him no with a disdainful smile.

"Or we're just really drunk," Miguel laughed, stumbling slightly.

They kept drinking until the bar closed. It was two in the morning, and both were quite drunk.

"Should we go home? I've got my car there," Miguel suggested.

"No way you're driving like that. Let's walk to my place, it's closer," Carlos replied, grabbing his friend's arm.

Carlos's apartment was small but cozy. As soon as they entered, Miguel collapsed on the couch.

"Damn, I'm so drunk," he muttered, closing his eyes.

Carlos went to the kitchen and came back with two more beers. "To celebrate like God intended," he said, sitting down beside him.

They drank in silence for a few minutes, processing the impending hangover.

"You know, Carlos? You're a good guy. Without you, I wouldn't have made this sale," Miguel said, with the sincerity that comes with alcohol.

"And you too, buddy. We make a good team," Carlos replied, clinking his beer against Miguel's.

The silence grew thicker. Both were drunk, frustrated at not having scored, and the adrenaline from the sale still coursed through their veins.

"Damn, I was really looking forward to screwing tonight," Miguel murmured, more to himself than to Carlos.

"Me too, dude. I've been dry for weeks," Carlos replied, adjusting...