As we finished up our dinner, Andy told me about his life now, spending most of his time working, going to the gym, and partying with friends, all the same old, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
“So what about you?” Andy asked. “No great loves to speak of?”
I cleared my throat and said in my lowest-of-low husky voice as I looked across the table seductively, “Not until now.”
Andy started to laugh as he sat back in his chair.
I shrugged. “Not really, I mean… Well, yeah. I at least thought I was in love once or twice. Just never seemed to work out.”
Our waiter removed all the remnants of dinner, and despite already being a little lit, I ordered a Tia Maria and coffee. Andy ordered a B&B and a cigar, which I found extremely hot.
Maybe he isn't, like, a huge Republican? Maybe he's just confused? Maybe he hasn't realized that they hate gay people? He's smoking a cigar; I've always wanted to be with someone who smokes cigars.
Unable to stop myself after the three glasses of wine, I asked, “So how do you feel about gay marriage?”
“I'm for it.” He was turning and puffing his cigar as he lit it. “Maybe someday I can ask you to marry me?” Obviously teasing me again, he was now sporting a huge, sexy smile as he took a sip from his snifter.
“Is that, in your opinion, something you see the Republican Party ever condoning?” I asked, blushing from his previous comment.
“No, I suppose not.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “But Republicans, unlike Democrats, aren't trying to give all of my tax dollars to people who'd rather sit back and have kids as opposed to getting a job and helping themselves.”
God forbid we give any money to the underprivileged
. He probably thought Reagan was a good president. I pictured him snatching money out of the hand of a little crack baby.
Meanie. I'm on a date with Scrooge!
I looked across the table, feeling my anxiety grow.
He does look awfully good with that cigar, though
. I closed my eyes and flushed all the yucky, bad thoughts out of my head, so that all I could see when I opened them was a hot man holding a cigar and a brandy snifter.
Ahhh…much better
. I smiled as I concentrated on his full lips, becoming mesmerized as they wrapped around the thick cigar.
Andy held out the cigar. “This isn't bothering you, is it?”
“No, sir,” I offered absentmindedly as a huge grin spread over Andy's face. I blinked a few times and sat up, feeling my cock begin to twitch. I cleared my throat and tried to remember what I'd just said. “I mean…of course not. I'm a smoker.” My hand fumbled over the table for my pack of smokes. I was unable to tear my gaze away from his face, and the things his eyes were saying to me… Let's just say I felt dirty…and I liked it.
* * * * *
We hadn't said too much on the drive back from the restaurant, and I'd begun to hope Andy wouldn't be too great a kisser. I'd made the decision before the date that I was not going to have sex with him, regardless of how well dinner went. It felt like I'd always jumped into bed too soon in the past, and I wasn't going to make that mistake this time. But the heat radiating between the two of us was palpable, and I desperately wanted to put out the fire.
Sitting in his car outside of my apartment, he said, “I had a really great time this evening.”
“Same here.” I smiled back at him. “You seem like a really nice guy.”
“Oh, I'm nice.” He leaned in a little closer. “I'm really nice.”
I laughed as I leaned in a little closer. “Is that so?”
He let out a low moan before leaning the rest of the way over and pressing his lips onto mine. I opened up my mouth for his tongue. Chills trickled down my spine, slowly making their way between my legs. Our kiss had just the right mix of gentle sucking and light licking, yet Andy maintained a forcefulness that let me know he was in control.
I could overlook bacne from a man who kisses like this, so I could sure overlook his fucked-up political beliefs
. When he began to lightly suck on my lower lip, I pulled away, sure that if I didn't, I'd rip his clothes off right there.
“Can I come up for a little bit?” he asked, wide-eyed with a half smile.
“I don't think so.” I was breathing a little heavier than I wanted him to see as I tried to regain my will and composure. I backed up, fumbling for the door handle. “If I let you upstairs and you kiss me like that again, I'm going to end up being a slut.”
“I
like
sluts,” he said in an earnest, almost reverent tone.
“I don't.” I found the door handle.
“I'll call you tomorrow,” he said as I opened the car door and slid out of the seat.
I attempted to conceal the bulge in my pants by pulling my suit coat around my waist and folding my arms. “You'd better.” I turned and practically ran for the door. He pulled away as I dug the keys out of my pocket. Generally, I liked a guy who stuck around long enough to be sure I made it safely into my house before speeding off. It tended to make me feel they cared for my well-being. Fortunately for Andy, that kiss had put him way back over the top.
“Men who kiss like that should come with a warning label,” I said out loud as I climbed the stairs.
I closed the door behind me as I entered the loft. I walked into the kitchen and tossed my keys on the island. I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. Slowly, almost dreamily, I made my way into the living room, taking off my jacket. I threw it haphazardly onto the back of the couch and flopped onto the sofa. Humming some song I couldn't quite remember the lyrics to, I reached back and fished my smokes out of my jacket.
I heard the bathroom door open and turned around to see Danny heading to his bedroom.
“Back already?” He looked around to make sure no one else was in the room.
“It's almost midnight.” I pulled myself up and headed for the window that overlooked the street in front of the building.
“You didn't invite him up?” he asked with an expression that I would've sworn was relief if I hadn't known better.
“Of course not,” I said, as if the thought had never crossed my mind.
“Did you have a good time?” He was standing in place, arms folded as if he were the gatekeeper to the bathroom.
“God, yes.” I closed my eyes, feeling the alcohol make my head all swimmy. I opened up the window and inhaled the crisp night air before lighting a cigarette. “He's great, I'm great… We're great. I'm almost afraid I'm going to wake up at any minute to find that it was all a dream.”
“That good, huh?” Danny raised an eyebrow as a big-brother expression appeared over his face. “Well, people seldom act like themselves on a first date.”
“Oh, Danny, honestly.” I took a drag. “I had a really good time. Please don't pee all over it.”
“I wasn't. I just…uh… I'm glad you had a good time.” Danny walked over and sat down on the arm of the sofa. “Say, um…what are you doing on Sunday night?”
“I don't know. I hadn't thought that far ahead. Why?”
“They're having a reading of
Love! Valour! Compassion!
on campus. I bought a couple of tickets, and I wanted to see if you'd be interested in going with me.”
“Who canceled on you?” I asked, smiling.
“No one!” He looked at me, shaking his head. “We haven't done anything together in a long time, and I thought this would be something we'd both enjoy.”
“Oh.” I felt a little guilty for assuming I was once again his last-chance Charlie. “Well, sure, I'd love to. That does sound fun.” I put out my smoke and closed the window. “You know, just when I think you're a complete ass, you go and do something like this. Makes me feel guilty for all the nasty things I'd been thinking about you.”
“So you do have nasty thoughts about me,” he said with a naughty grin. I walked up to him. “I knew you were hot for me.”
“Let's not get carried away.” I yawned as I raised my hands, stretching. “You have enough men in and outta here. We practically need a revolving door.”
Danny jumped up off the arm of the sofa with a disappointed look on his face. “I do not bring that many guys home.”
“I was just kidding!” I put my hands in the air to signal I surrendered. “Jeez, Sally Sensitive, calm down.”
“Well, Julie”—he seemed to settle back down and smirked—“you could make an honest man out of me and put a stop to all of that.”
“Funny.” I reached over and stuck my finger into one of his dimples. As I twisted my finger, I made a faux squeaking sound. “You're such a tease.”
He smiled and swatted my hand away from his face. “Protest all you want.” Danny took a step forward, now only inches away. “I know deep down you want me.” He winked, reached up and tweaked one of my nipples, and turned to go into his bedroom.
As I stood there, mouth hanging open, I wondered if he knew that he could devastate me with just a wink, sending me into an abyss of erotic-neurotic turmoil. It was just plain cruel to give one man so much sex appeal. If only, I thought. If only.
Walking into the apartment, I led Andy by the hand through the door. I closed the door behind us, and he pinned me up against it, kissing me roughly. He ran his hands up my stomach and chest, and they made their way up under my jacket, causing it to slide off my shoulders and crumple onto the floor. Andy placed his hands in mine and led me over to the couch. Turning me around, he shoved me back, then smiled as he climbed on top of me. Andy kissed me passionately, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I closed my eyes, and a muffled moan grumbled from his throat. I could feel his hard cock grinding into mine as he ripped his mouth away from mine. I opened my eyes to see Danny lying on top of me, smiling. He lowered his head to kiss me as the phone began to ring.
I opened my eyes and sat straight up in my bed. I felt the immediate throbbing in my head as I placed my hand onto my temple. I winced as the cell phone next to my bed rang again. I reached over to pick it up, making a promise to myself to take the time to figure out how to change the settings. I'd had the damn smartphone for three weeks and still couldn't seem to figure out how to change the volume, let alone the ringtone.
I noticed a glass of water and a bottle of Advil sitting on the nightstand. I couldn't remember putting them there. Danny must have—
Christ, was I mashing on Danny in my dream?
The phone rang again, interrupting that thought. I punched the little green button. “Whoever you are, please tell me I'm dead.” I rubbed the palm of my hand over my forehead and began to massage my skull.
“Sorry, sunshine,” Gabby said. “Did you party a little too hard?”
“Apparently…wine is evil.” After reaching for the pill bottle, I began to fumble with the childproof lid. I scowled as the pills rattled around, taunting me.
“Well at least you had the foresight to put aspirin next to the bed.”
“That's just it. I don't remember doing that. And it's Advil, wait… How the hell do you know what's next to my bed?” I looked around my room, wondering where the hidden camera was.
“I can hear you rattling the bottle around, nitwit.”
“Oh…well, I remember going to my room, taking off my clothes, and crawling into bed.”
“Were you alone?” she asked.
“Of course. Danny must have put it here before he left for the gym.” I lifted myself up, turning a couple of pillows on their sides, and leaned back into them, propping myself up against the headboard. “Look at that.”
“Hellooo. On the phone. Can't see what you can.”
“I think he even hung my clothes up. That's kinda sweet.” I looked at the slightly rumpled gray suit dangling neatly on a hanger from the door handle of the armoire.
“I hate gay men. Brad is such a slob. He'd never do that.”
“Hello, pot, meet kettle.” I smiled to myself. She was getting irritated; through the phone I could hear her tapping a pen on her notepad. “You're not exactly Martha Stewart, dear.”
“I work all day,” she said. “He's always home.”
“I'm not one to defend Bran Boy, but he works at home.” I tossed four Advil into my mouth and downed them with a mouthful of water.
“Please,” she said, still tapping away. “He's a book-jacket editor. He gets to lie around and read all day. He can't take thirty minutes and straighten the place up?”
“I suppose so.” I wasn't really interested in pursuing Brad any further. Just as I was beginning to get irritated from her tapping, it suddenly stopped.
“How was the date? I want all the dirt.”
“It was great.” I took another large gulp of water. “He was really sweet. Despite the fact that someone told him I'm a high-maintenance pain in the ass.”
“News flash…like I really pulled a skeleton out the closet with that one. Besides, I'm pretty sure he got a little gleam in his eye when I told him that. I think he likes a challenge.”
“Well, thank you, but I'm a person, not an extreme sport. You make me sound like bungee jumping.”
“Quit bitching and tell me what happened. I swear, stop acting like a little old lady and get to the good stuff. Is he a good kisser?”
I gave her the play-by-play from the cigarette fiasco to the hot man-on-man action in the front seat of his car. I laughed a little when she gasped as I mentioned the Republican thing.
I ran my fingers over my lips and grinned. “But he sure knew how to use those lips. I swear, I wanted to drag him upstairs to see what else he could do.”
“You should have,” she said. “I can't believe you didn't probe any further than that. You aren't exactly Julie Andrews, you know. Just think. If you
had
invited him up and let him wrap those full lips of his around Little Julian, you'd be singing 'My Prick Is Alive With the Sound of Grunting.'”
“Okay, Danny.” I rolled my eyes as I laughed. “Jesus, a boy has to have some principles.”
“Sure,” Gabby said, “and what are you left with the next morning with your precious principles? A case of blue balls and a hangover. If you wanted to invite him up for sex, you should have. You act like sex is something naughty and shameful. It isn't healthy to deny your desires.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ruth. Would it make you feel better to know that I masturbated before passing out?”
“I always say, 'Why do something yourself if you can get someone else to do it for you?' I'm surprised you don't think that choking the chunky monkey makes you cheap. Were you thinking about Andy when you were stroking yourself to sleep?”
“Yeah,” I said. “What's your point, Nosy Nora?”
“I don't see a whole lot of difference between sleeping with someone and imagining yourself sleeping with someone while you beat off. Either way you start out with the same desire and end up with cum all over your stomach. The only difference is that, your way, you ended up doing all the work yourself.”
I began to laugh, cursing her under my breath as my head began to throb more. “Well, thanks for the rundown of fornication dos and don'ts, or in your case, fornication dos. Besides, my way was quicker. If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to sleep.”
“Fine, prissy,” she said, sounding a little huffy. “Quicker. I pity the man who ends up with your…repression!”
I chuckled again. “Not so loud, please.”
“By the way, I'm throwing a dinner party Wednesday night. You can bring Andy and Danny. The man you're already in love with and the man you'll make yourself fall in love with. Then I'll be able to torture you all night by saying inappropriate things.”
“Ignoring you,” I said.
“If we don't make it out tonight, I'll see you at lunch on Monday.”
“Good night.”
“Good morning.” She somehow felt the need to remind before cutting me off.
I looked at the clock and whimpered when I saw it was only ten thirty.
Curse you, Gabby
. I rolled over and settled back down into the bed. “Repressed indeed. I'm not repressed; I'm just sexually challenged,” I mumbled. I wrapped my legs and arms around my body pillow, and giving it a squeeze, I looked at the pillow.
You're the only man I need
. I closed my eyes and began to drift off.
* * * * *
I finally drug my ass out of bed around one thirty with no sign of a headache but with a fierce case of I'm-so-hungry-I-want-to-eat-everything. As I perused the cabinets and refrigerator, laziness prevailed, and I settled for a bowl of Honeycombs.
I picked up the bowl with one hand, and I shoved the spoon into my mouth with the other, then grabbed my cell off the counter and made my way to the sofa. I snatched up the remote, clicked on the television, took a bite of cereal, and began checking the phone for any missed calls. Now, that's what I call multitasking. I'd turned my phone off after Gabby's call, and there were three missed calls. The first name and number that popped up was the one I was hoping would be there. I moved the remote from my lap to the coffee table and shoveled in another spoonful of cereal as I hit Redial.
It rang several times before I heard a
click
and, “Hello, gorgeous.”
“Good morning.” I smiled as I stabbed my spoon into the bowl of cereal. “Are you psychic, or do you have me programmed already?”
I listened as Andy chuckled. “Oh, you're programmed, baby. And I hate to break it to you, but it's hardly morning.”
“Did you sleep okay?” I asked. I was trying my best not to crunch too loudly, but I was too hungry to stop eating like a polite person should.
“Alas, no,” he said. “I tossed and turned all night. I went on this really great date last night, but the guy—well, he got me all worked up and then sent me on my way.”
“Sounds like a keeper to me!” I was grinning through another bite. “Who was this pillar of strength and respectability?” I asked, mumbling through a mouthful of Honeycombs.
“Oh, just some bartender I tried to pick up one night. I thought all gay bartenders were supposed to be ecstasy-popping, Crown Royal-guzzling nymphos who were always ready to par-tay.”
“Dude, I must've been absent that day during bartender orientation. My bad.” I crossed my legs and pulled them up under me. “What time did you get up?”
“Seven thirty. I had to show some clients a couple of houses this morning.”
“How'd it go?”
“Going,” he corrected, “and thus far, no sale. It's a young couple, just married—very sweet first-time home buyers. They're following me in their car. Your basic subdivision nightmare, clad in khaki. They're like my sisters' paper dolls—which I always wanted to play with when I was a little boy. They have this sort of painted-on-happy look.”
“Stepford heteros.” I nodded.
“Something like that. I've been showing them houses for weeks. The only thing I can imagine to be more difficult than selling
them
a house is getting
you
to trust me. What the hell are you eating?”
“Sorry,” I said through my crunching. “Cereal. And as with all things worth having, if you're persistent and you put your whole heart into it, you'll end up getting everything you desire.” I started to laugh over my own cheesiness, and Andy seemed to agree, laughing as well. “Of course, divulging things such as your paper-doll fetish certainly makes you seem all the more attractive.”
“Cute. I will not be ridiculed. I have to go… Pulling up to another house to show. I know you're working tonight, but I wanted to see if you'd come to my house Sunday night. I thought I could order us some dinner and rent a couple of movies?”
“Sounds good, but I already have plans on Sunday. Monday?” I asked.
“Hmm, Monday one of my business networking groups is having a meeting. How about Tuesday?”
“Tuesday I'm wide open,” I said.
“Really? That's very good to know,” he said with a flirty tone.
“That's not exactly what I meant, dirty—Oh crap. I'm also supposed to invite you to Gabby's on Wednesday. She's having a dinner party that I'll end up doing all of the cooking for.”
“Okay, I really have to go. If I don't talk to you tomorrow, I'll ring you Monday with directions and a time. Any particular movies you'd like to see?”
“I'm sure whatever you pick will be fine.”
“A little voice tells me I better get this one right. And just so you know…it's killing me to
not
ask who your plans are with on Sunday night.”
I smiled, loving that he'd not only felt it but also admitted to it. I decided to leave that comment and stick to the flirty side of things. “Hearing voices.
So
not a good sign; I'd get that checked out.”
“Well, Tuesday you can give me a thorough examination.”
I laughed, setting my bowl down onto the coffee table. “Good-bye, One-track McGee.”
“Ciao.”
“Sick.” I smiled as I set the phone next to me on the sofa. I snatched up the remote and the
TV Guide
and settled into the sofa for an afternoon of couch commando. As I scanned the TV programming possibilities, the phone began to ring. Absently reaching over, I picked it up and pressed the Talk button, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Hello,” I said.
“I wanna lick your pussy,” a voice said in an obviously fake gruff tone.
“Who is this?” I smiled.
“The man who's going to pin your legs back and fuck you like the whore you are, bitch.”
“Excuse me?” My mouth fell open a bit as I began to feel my face flush. I checked the display on my cell phone and saw UNKNOWN NAME/UNKNOWN NUMBER.
“I want to spread you open and lick your pussy,” the gruff voice spit out.
It was now apparent that this was not a friend playing a joke. “Well, that will be difficult, seeing as I don't have a pussy.”
“Huh,” he said, voice cracking.
“Of course, if you'd like to wrap your lips around my big, juicy cock…” I started laughing when I heard the
click
on the other end of the line. People always assumed I was a woman when I answered the phone.
I loved it when telemarketers called the loft looking for Danny. I'd tell them he wasn't home, and they'd inevitably ask if I were Mrs. Wallace. I, of course, said yes and then did my level best to keep them on the phone for as long as I could. Constantly interrupting, I'd ask idiotic questions while they tried to give their big sales pitch. I seriously needed a life. I set the phone down, and it immediately began ringing again.