Second Chances (2 page)

I moved the action down and soaped my crotch up nice and slick. Usually I preferred to jack off dry, always have. The friction was so nice and warm and quick. More and more lately I found myself getting hard in the shower, probably because Brian liked it that way. Anytime I climbed in and he was home, it would only take a few minutes ’til the curtain pulled back and his grinning ass came in, never asking, just grabbing the soap and dropping it.

“Oops,” he would say, “guess I’d better get that.” And he would, either angling against me so his hot ass was right up against my crotch, or falling to his knees right in front of my cock. And of course, I could never resist that temptation.

“Relax, baby, let me take care of you,” he’d say. I’d lean back against the cool tiles as he ran his fingers through the hair on my chest, down my abs to my pubes. His soft touch intermingled with scratches, lazy figure eights in the fur on my front that made me lean back and close my eyes and enjoy the sensation.

“Mmm, God, I love the hair here,” he’d whisper, almost lost in the noise of the water. I’d spread my legs a little wider, and his hot mouth would ghost across my balls, breathing warm air on them, not touching yet, while those light touches on my abdomen would slowly change to both hands rubbing up and down my thighs. My cock would slowly rise, and I’d feel his mouth lightly touching my balls, the barest flicker of tongue on them. This slow seduction was always my favorite.

I reached down and gave my cock a quick squeeze and grabbed my balls with the other hand. Light tugging did the job, and I got fully hard. One hand stroked up and down my shaft lazily, and I could almost feel his mouth on me even now.

“Suck it,” I’d say. He’d chuckle, and one ball would get sucked into the hot cavern of his mouth and I’d sigh. I knew he could never resist when I started telling him what to do. The game was always to see how long I could take it before I gave the order. His mouth sucking one ball, then the other, he’d rub his nose against my shaft, smelling the musk there. I could always look down and see his cock harden as he sniffed and nuzzled mine, moving his attention from my balls up to its root. Mouthing the base, then moving slowly up my shaft, then back down he would lick and nibble and mouth every bit of skin he could reach.

“I said suck it, boy.” His cock would jerk, and he’d look up at me and beg with his eyes. “No, you can’t touch yourself ’til you take care of this first.” I’d say, twisting my hips back and forth, slapping my cock against his face.

The memory made my cock harden ’til it was almost painful. I’m not sure what turned me on most, the look in his eyes or the feel of his mouth opening and taking in the head and a couple of inches. I started stroking harder, remembering how beautiful his mouth looked, those lips wrapped around my cock, his eyes begging for my approval. My hand moved faster.

I’d shove him backward against the tile wall until his head was trapped, my cock moving in and out of his mouth.

I stroked harder and faster, feeling the tension in my balls and spine start to build. My hips started that unconscious pumping that always added to the friction, and the tightness of my grip and the slickness of the water almost,
almost
felt like a mouth. Almost but not quite, and I fucked my hand harder.

I shoved more and more into Brian’s mouth until the need became too hot and heavy and the flame of my orgasm burned in my spine and then I came in his mouth.

With a gasp, I shot onto the shower curtain, the release making my knees weak, until the last shuddering spasm passed and I could breathe again and open my eyes.

And remembered his lying, cheating ass was gone and I was alone.

W
ORK
the next day was no better. I was controller for a small nonprofit, and it was right at the busy time of year for our two largest fund-raising drives. So of course the development folks couldn’t get anything done without me approving protocols and making reports and generally holding their crazy little hands. God save me from Type B personalities. My weekend would be taken up running back and forth between the hospital and supervising the setup for the AIDS Fun-Run and then home to take the dogs out and feed them.

Something had to give. I sat in my boss’s office and glared a hole through Dan Martin. Not that the bastard cared. He was one of the nicest, most fair men I knew, but work was work.

“How’s your mother, Mark?” he asked. He looked at me as though staring hard enough would make all my secrets tumble out.

“Fine.” I knew I was being an ass but couldn’t seem to help it.

“Oookay, let’s try this again. How’s your mother? Asshole,” he drawled.

Even I wasn’t able to keep up the stink eye against his starched shirt and perfect Windsor knot and calm demeanor. Fucker.

“She’s holding her own. The doctor says that we have some really hard choices to make when she wakes up. Her body can’t take much more of the back and forth. It’s really just a matter of time.” My throat tightened up and the words came out flat. I knew my eyes were wet, but damn it, I wouldn’t cry. Not today. Not here.

“I
am
sorry,” he said quietly. He was no more a fan of public displays of emotions than me. “And I’m sorry you’re having to carry some of the load on the fun-run and the ball fund-raisers. I promise I’ll make it up to you. There just isn’t anybody else right now. Since you let Jim go, I know you’re doing two people’s jobs and believe me, Mark, I won’t forget it.”

He looked me up and down. “Take care of yourself. Have you thought about a massage? I can give you the number of the girl I use.”

Yeah, like I wanted some girl’s hands on me like that. Nothing personal, but I’d yet to find a woman who knew how to deliver a good massage. Their hands just weren’t strong enough for me. I liked the deep tissue stuff, and that took a man.

“Not yet. I appreciate it, but between the seven days a week I’m putting in here, and the trips back and forth to Piedmont, I’m lucky to spend any time with the dogs and get my laundry done.” I laughed. “I wish I could train them to start the washer and push the vacuum. Or make dinner.”

“Think about it. I can tell you need to do something for yourself. And don’t argue with me. I know what you’re going through.” And he did. He’d lost his mother two years before. “Now go home. It’s lunchtime, and I think I can cover for you today. Do something for yourself before you have to go back to the hospital. And I’ll see you tomorrow. Go.” He flipped his hand and motioned me out.

For once, he didn’t have to tell me twice. I got.

I
FIRED
up the computer at home and hit the web. Dan’s words made an impact. Maybe a massage
would
be the best thing I could do for myself. Since
Creative Loafing
, the weekly lifestyle magazine, was now all ads for hookers, maybe some massage guys hung out in the “Atlanta MM4MM” room. The M4M room would be full of guys looking for hookups and prostitutes. I’d had enough of that.

And damn if I wasn’t right. There were five different massage guys in there. I put a query out in the chat room.

MarkBearAtl:
Who does deep tissue? Real massage, not just squirt lotion on and go for the happy ending. ’Cause you will NOT get paid.

I went to put in a load of laundry, and when I get back, there were three chat windows open.

MassageManAtl:
$100 per hour, nude massage happy ending.

Ah, no. Hit the X.

AtlRubsU:
How big are you hung?

Nope. X.

ItalMassageAtl:
Hello MarkBearAtl, how are you today? Having a good day?

Huh.

MarkBearAtl:
Yes. How are you today?

ItalMassageAtl:
Having a really nice day, thanks. Are you looking for a serious massage?

MarkBearAtl:
Yes. Have a lot of stress. Need some relief. Deep tissue, hot stone, whatever will work on my neck and back.

ItalMassageAtl:
Well, man, I offer deep tissue, professional massage table, shower available. And by massage, I MEAN massage. No happy ending stuff. Do you have any health issues I should be aware of?

MarkBearAtl:
No, just really tense. What are your rates?

ItalMassageAtl:
$100 for a full hour. I don’t do less than an hour, because you deserve the best and I am the best.

Well, no lack of confidence there.

MarkBearAtl:
Can you see me this evening? Around 8?

ItalMassageAtl:
I have an opening. I do require that we talk on the phone first. I have to feel comfortable knowing you are really going to show up. And you aren’t an ax murderer.

MarkBearAtl:
Damn, found me out. LOL Okay, what’s your number?

And that was how I met Antonio.

T
HE
drive to the hospital was long and traffic sucked. I dreaded what might be waiting for me there, and as I got closer, I steeled myself for the news. As I parked the car, I saw that my dad and older sister were already there, judging from the cars. Usually, we all parked on the same level in the deck. Walking into Mom’s room, I was thankful that it was just the two of them. They were obviously waiting for me to get there.

And Mom was awake.

“Hey, son,” she said, voice raw and loud. She’d been in a coma for three days, so no surprise there. The volume—well, more hearing loss, I could tell. Her hair was matted down, her color looked like hell, and her skin was sagging and dry. I don’t think I had ever seen anyone so beautiful.

“How are you feeling, darlin’?” I grabbed her in a big hug.

“Sore. Tired. I want to go home. They’re going to let me go home.” She smiled that smile that made everything all right.

No fucking way was she going to be able to come home. I looked back at Dad and Patricia and raised an eyebrow. Dad looked at me, saying nothing.

Patty’s eyes glided past me and she took a deep breath. “Come outside with me for minute, little brother.” She and my dad followed me out, glancing at each other and then at me.

“So, she’s coming home? Talk to me.” I looked at Dad.

“I promised her she could die at home. I won’t let her die in a hospital. Not gonna happen.” His jaw was set, his eyes fierce.

“The doctor said he didn’t think she would make it out of one more episode, and it was her choice,” Patty’s sweet voice told me. “She wants to go home.”

Fuck. You know that feeling when you hold your breath too long and the little squigglies start to dance right around the outside of your vision and voices start to sound a little hollow? Well, that shit started and a part of me just… went away for a minute, and I thought,
Okay Mark, you can do this. Just let her have what she wants and say it’s okay and then we can get the holy hell out of here.

I took a deep breath to steady myself and looked at them. “So how’s this gonna work? We take her home and she does what, goes into a coma? How do we take care of her? Did the doctor say we could?”

Dad’s relieved look slowed me down. The two of them relaxed, and I figured they’d expected me to fight them on this. Fuck no. I wanted Mom happy. If she wanted to die at home, then God help the asshole who tried to stop it from happening. We discussed details for another minute, and then went back in to talk to Mom.

She was so happy, and kept saying over and over, “They’re letting me go home. I’m going home.”

I looked over at Patty and asked the hardest question. “Do the rest of them know?”

Our little brother Robert was fighting the doctors tooth and nail about her care. Janet and Linda were playing the passive-aggressive bitch card, either wanting to make the rest of us miserable by objecting and finding fault with everything we did or totally ignoring the situation. And Sam, well, he tried to tell us all how it was going to be—the gospel according to Saint Sam. Screw ’em.

And no, they didn’t know yet.

“I have my cell phone.” I shrugged. “Let’s start making the calls.”

“I’m going
home
!”

I
LEFT
about half after seven. My head and back and heart ached. For a minute, as I pulled out of the parking deck, I considered blowing off the massage and going and getting shitfaced. But I had to work the next day, and no damn way was I gonna get a DUI. What if Mom came home and went back into a coma and then died and I was in jail because I was being stupid and… nope. Not gonna go there.

So I kept driving, pulled out my cell to call Antonio, and let him know I was on my way. I could feel the tension in my neck and arms and thought,
I really need this
.

I pulled into the parking lot at the apartment complex at five minutes ’til eight. Got out and went right up to the door and knocked. I stood there for a minute and let the cool Atlanta night air fill my lungs. Looked around the courtyard and admired the fountain and the landscaping.