There I sat, on the airplane, flying home. For the first time in six years I was back. God! I’d missed this place. The flight from London was long and boring and I was too excited to sleep. Of course, I was still on London time, eight hours difference was going to be tough to get used to. I couldn’t wait to see Jessica. We met in high school, she a lowly sophomore, and me the big senior on campus.
But we were both misfits and we clicked. Despite the age difference and all the other quirks, we became best of friends. She was the first person I told that I was gay. She just looked at me, said ‘duh’ and that was the end of it.
When the plane touched down, I was almost too giddy to stay in my seat. I still had customs to go through. I made it through in no time. Twenty-four and I was on top of the world. I had gone to college in London and then got a job with a telecommunications company. When an opening became available in Seattle, I jumped at it. I was home. As I got off the train, near baggage claim, there was Jessica, jumping up and down and throwing herself into my arms. I almost fell over. She was a little dynamo, almost a foot shorter then my six-four. Standing beside her was her boyfriend of four years and another guy. I had no clue who he was, that was until she introduced me. His name was Tom. So this was the Tom I’d heard so much about.
Tom stood at five-eleven. He was perhaps thirty or forty pounds overweight, but still had a great look about him. He wore a v-neck shirt and he had a nice sprouting of hair showing. His hair was like spun honey. He had blue eyes and was just about the cutest person I’d ever seen. I fell instantly in lust with him. When he shook my hand, I actually felt the jolt to my toes. This was interesting to say the least.
We grabbed my bags and headed out. The four of us crawled into Jessica’s little car, Tom and I sitting in the back, squeezed in. My frame was hurting, even behind Jessica’s scooted up seat. Her boyfriend Mike was almost as tall as I was, so Tom was definitely squished. But we made the best of it. I was going to stay at Jessica’s until I found an apartment.
We stopped off for dinner at my favorite hang out. Basically, if the beatniks were in Seattle during the grunge period, this would have been their hangout. The place was smoke filled and served the best damn greasy food on earth. It wasn’t until I’d taken my first bite that I knew I was really home. Mike and Jessica got into a fight halfway through dinner and took it outside. I think more to make out after than to spare the other patrons from their argument. I took the opportunity to talk to Tom.
“What do you do Tom?”
He was sitting across from me and gave me his smile. It was open and honest and I got a sappy grin of my own just looking at him. “I’m taking a few classes and working part time at a video store.”
I chuckled. “It’s better than my part time job while I was going to school.” At his quizzical look, I added, “I worked in an adult bookstore.”
He started laughing. “I bet you have some tales.”
I wondered if he could handle that it was a gay bookstore. No time like the present. “Yeah, there were more guys fucking in the back then most night clubs I think.”
He raised his eyebrows at that. I felt a moment of panic, that perhaps I’d overstepped my bounds here. “You probably heard quite a bit, if not saw it outright.” He winked at me. “Pick up any pointers?”
I relaxed. Gay or not, at least he wasn’t uncomfortable about it. “Only when Larry the Moaner came in. He usually got applause.”
We both laughed heartily at that. Jessica and Mike came back, hand in hand. Mike had always been the romantic in the relationship. The man would hold Jessica’s chair. He’d show up after work with a bunch of flowers just because he could. They fought a lot, what couple doesn’t, but there was so much love in his eyes whenever he looked at her. More than once I’d been jealous of Jessica. Not that I wanted Mike for my own, but I was so damn jealous that she had someone who doted on her. He did. He worshipped the ground she walked on. The man was probably the most patient person on earth to put up with Jessica, but to look at him; you just knew he was gone for her.
They sat down, both of them with silly, stupid grins on their face. I’m sure they often picked a fight just to have an excuse to do the whole make-up make-out session. Jessica sat down beside me in the booth and leaned in and whispered in my ear. “So, what do you think of Tom?” I grinned at her and she nodded. Shortly after we finished eating then left. As we dropped Tom off, he promised to show me around, run me to a few places, as I got ready to start my new job. I really appreciated it.
Monday hit and Tom was right on time. We headed out to look for apartments. It was easy. I found the one I wanted first try: two bedrooms, large living room, with a nice fireplace and balcony. It was a bit pricey, but I didn’t care. I took Tom out to lunch and learned more about him. He was turning twenty-one in a few weeks. I told him that he had to have a party. He demurred. His parents were both alcoholics, so he didn’t even want to contemplate drinking. I admired his courage, but I told him you don’t have to drink to party.
The next day, Tom took me around to car dealers. I ended up buying a Ford pickup. The way things were coming together; I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Little did I know it would happen about two months later.
Tom and I had been spending a lot of time together. We had similar senses of humor. We got along great and it made me feel good to be around him. We’d go catch a movie on his off night. He helped me move in my stuff and even arranged my furniture. It got to the point where he even started sleeping over at my place because he hated the flophouse he lived in. I liked making dinner for him. I liked having him there. I was falling and falling fast.
Tom was a hard man to figure out though. He was probably the most hands-on person I’d ever met. He was always touching me. He’d hug me. He’d rub my shoulders. He was constantly touching me. He’d sit by me in the movies and sling his arm behind me. It wasn’t touching me, but it was familiar. Well, no one really touched me unless it was at a club or a female coworker. Jessica and Mike were both really demonstrative, but they were like family. I hardly knew Tom. It sent so many confusing signals. It was like he was flirting with me, telling me it was okay to touch him.
But the strange thing was that, except for my returning his hugs, he’d get uncomfortable if I touched him in any other way. I went to brush a stray hair off his shoulder and he’d pull back. Yet he’d do the same for me. His words said back off, his touching said to go for it, and it all confused me. Any other guy I’d have either known to make a move and kiss him or been punched in the face for being forward. His attitude was like he was telling me to back off, but not go too far away. By the tenth night he’d slept on my couch, I was a walking ball of lust, confusion, and affection. I really cared for the guy. He made me feel special and needed.
I can cook; really cook. I never got any formal training, but I could make some people weep over some of my dishes. Tom kept going back for seconds or thirds of whatever I made and actually moaned a couple of times when he’d eat my cooking. Probably the most frustrating part about being Tom’s friend was that he hardly ever talked. Oh, he’d speak and hold a conversation. But he wouldn’t talk about anything personal. Many times I’d ask him if he was okay. I’d get a nod. It was frustrating to say the least. If he’d just talked to me, I’d have known where I stood. But he wasn’t one for talking.
I got up early one morning to find Tom sleeping on my couch, his blanket down around his ankles, wearing nothing but a light blue pair of briefs. I must have stood and stared for a good ten minutes, watching him twitch in his sleep. All I saw was his cotton-covered ass and I was hard. I needed to get laid. This was ridiculous. But I didn’t want to not be with him. I needed answers.
Jessica and I sat down one day, because I needed to know if what I was feeling and if the signals I was getting were real or not. I admitted that I was in serious lust with him. It should have been obvious. I mean, my tongue practically hung out and panted every time he entered the room. Jessica looked at me and ruffled my hair, muttering under her breath about ‘silly gay men.’ She wasn’t much help. Tom had always played things close to the vest. She knew he was at least bi, if not downright gay, but she saw no evidence of either. As far as she knew, he was still a virgin. Well that was no help.
Since I didn’t know one way or the other, I decided to play it by ear. I’d let him lead me. The man flirted, but it was almost halfway. Like he wasn’t sure of what he was doing. If I’d respond too heavily, he’d pull away. He’d always start it. I was really confused. Virgin or not, this was confusing. Sometimes he’d seem interested, other times not at all. I slowly ramped up my seduction. I’d touch him, innocently at first, then more and more intimately until he’d pull away. Each time, I’d get closer and closer to having him be mine. One night, he stood and walked away after some light caressing, but the tent in his jeans was obvious. He was enjoying what was happening. But it wasn’t progressing at all. We’d both be in our fifties before I got him into bed. I was getting ready to ditch the whole thing until one night.
We’d gone to the movies. Tom didn’t want to go home. Who could blame him? Four guys living in a two-bedroom apartment. His roommate had a girlfriend who was over most of the time. So he got real familiar with my couch. But that one night…
We got home from the movie around nine. We sat on the couch and talked about it. What we liked, what we didn’t and whom we thought was cute. He got me laughing. I was laughing for a few minutes. When I wound down, he was staring at me. My body calmed and began to strum. This wasn’t a stare. This was a look of hunger. There was more in that one look then anything else he’d ever shown me. He was normally so damn closed off, but in that moment, his defenses were down and all I saw was hunger. I moved in and took his lips. I tasted him, moving over him slowly. After a few devouring moves with my mouth, my tongue darted out to taste his lips. I moaned. Then I was moving my tongue against his teeth, then deeper into his mouth.
Tom tried to meet me, but this was obviously a new experience for him. I kept kissing him, wrapping my arms around him. His hands were unsure as he held then slowly embraced me. My need rose quickly. I pulled back and began ravishing his face with kisses all over. Neck, cheeks, brow, nose, chin and everywhere else my lips could reach I kissed him. I started chewing on his earlobe when his whole body trembled and his hands started roving over my back. I stood and pulled him with me.
When we got to the bedroom, I pulled Tom’s shirt off. The light was dim, but I could see his chest, gilded with honey colored chest hair. He was muscular under that layer of softness. I lowered my neck and took his nipple in my mouth. He shuddered under my lips. I skimmed my hands down his belly and undid his belt then the snaps on his jeans until they fell to the ground, pooled at his feet. I shucked my own shirt then dropped my pants. I pushed him on the bed and followed him down, lying on top of him, kissing him. He trembled under me.
I rolled to the side, so one hip rested on the bed and my leg was over his. I could feel him hard against my thigh. My own erection pressed into his hip. After I pulled away from the kiss, I rolled him onto his belly, moving over him, giving him my weight. I pressed my lips against the back of his neck, feeling Tom shudder. I moved lower and lower, kissing along his spine as I went. My hands caught in the waistband of his briefs and I pulled them down, kissing my way across his ass and legs. I pulled his underwear off his feet, sitting on my heels. I looked at the long length of Tom, his honey colored hair dusting his legs, thickly in his crack and at the small of his back. I noticed he was shaking. This wasn’t the trembling of desire or the shivers of cold. He was shaking hard with fear.
Now I had a reputation in London. From my first encounter until the last man I slept with, I was quickly known as the Yank who went all night. I only slept with each guy once or twice, but I did get the most out of each encounter. But I never once took what wasn’t freely given. Tom was terrified. I slipped up beside him, turning his face to me. His eyes were big and round. I cupped his face in my hands and kissed his cheek. I was so damn hard. I ached with the need to free myself from my briefs and sate my desire inside him. But I stopped. He wasn’t ready.
“Hey, hey, hey. Tom.” He looked at me, actually focused on my face. “We won’t go anywhere you aren’t ready to go.”
His face sort of crumpled. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not ready.”
I nodded and curled my body around his. I spooned against his back, letting him feel how much I wanted him. But that was as far as it would go. I kept stroking his hair, running my fingers through his generous chest hair. I murmured soft words to him until the shaking stopped and he fell asleep. It wasn’t his fault I fell in love with him at that moment.
I woke up the next morning alone. I wasn’t that surprised. Tom had early classes and I was ready to go to work. I must have had a silly grin on my face the entire day. I couldn’t stop smiling. It still amazed me. I wasn’t some blushing virgin. I’d gotten around in London. But this was so different. It was so much more than I’d ever known before. After work, I decided to head over to Jessica’s. Tom usually hung out there after classes, so they could both relax and wind down from their week.
When I pulled in at Jessica’s, I saw Tom’s car in the driveway. I barely shut the engine off before I was bounding up the steps. I didn’t even knock, just walked right in. Jessica spotted me first and bounded over the chair to get to me. She was grinning ear to ear and threw herself into my arms. “Jimmy! Tom just told me the wonderful news.”
I started grinning. Wonderful news? This sounded so promising. He felt it too! He had to. “What’s the good news?”
Jessica looked over at Tom and beamed, “Tom’s getting married.”
That stopped me. Married? My throat was so thick; I couldn’t swallow, probably because my mouth had gone dry. My heart was pounding, from somewhere in the vicinity of my feet. I looked at Tom, really looked at him. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Pain sliced through me, as if a thousand knives had just carved their way through my heart. What the hell were you doing with me last night if you’re engaged? I never said it. It lodged somewhere in the vicinity with all the other things I’ve ever wanted to say but stopped before they left my mouth. I never seem to be able to forget those sayings. They stay with me and often haunt me later.
I just stared. My lips tried to form a smile, but it didn’t last more than a few seconds at a time. I know my face heated up, was probably glowing red. I’m sure Jessica felt my hand tremble from behind her back. So I did the only thing I could do. He didn’t know how I felt. He need never know. “Congratulations Tom.”
I tried to put all the sincerity I could into it. I tried to sound happy and joyous, when all my heart could do was rip further into smaller pieces. I turned to Jessica, my face as stoic as I could make it. “Where’s Mike?”
Jessica grinned, “He’ll be home soon.”
I kissed her cheek. “Great. This calls for a celebration. Why don’t I take everyone out to dinner to celebrate?” Turning to Tom, I said, “Why don’t you get your fiancée to join us?”
Tom looked even more uncomfortable. He looked at me with a look I couldn’t recognize. “I can’t.”
I shook my head in confusion. “Why can’t you?”
Tom smiled; the same smile that I had grown to love these past few weeks, the one that screamed of joy and happiness. “She lives in Texas. It would be kinda hard for her to join us.”
Texas? What the hell? “And you’re getting married to her? Are you moving to Texas?”
Tom laughed. “No. She’s moving here. She wants to go to school here.”
This seemed to be getting worse. I half expected some cheesy horror music to start playing or munchkins to walk through, just so I knew it was some bad dream. “When is the big day?”
Tom looked away. “As soon as the quarter is over.”
Two months. I took it all in: what happened last night, the giddy, wonderful feeling from today, and then this. My brain was about ready to cave in. I was saved by Mike’s coming home. Jessica grabbed him and they disappeared into the bathroom so he could shower. I took that time to talk to Tom. I was hurt and I knew it was the wrong time. Hateful things get said when someone is this emotionally distraught.
“If I hadn’t stopped things last night, would you have told your fiancée?”
Tom looked like he’d been slapped. “Last night shouldn’t have happened.”
Now I felt like I’d been sucker punched. “You did nothing to stop me. Nothing Tom!”
He nodded. “I know.”
That took the energy out of my argument. “Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have kissed you if I’d known.”
Tom looked confused. “Tell you what?”
What the hell? “That you were getting married.”
“I didn’t ask her until today.”
I actually sat down. Right where I was, on the ground. My head hurt. My heart ached. My butt was bruised. I looked right into Tom’s eyes. They were concerned, but there was nothing else there. “What the hell has been going on Tom? What has the last few months been?”
He looked away, but not before I caught a flash of something, guilt perhaps, in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Disbelief was loud in my voice. “You were there.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I tried to laugh, but it wasn’t happening. “You don’t know…” I stood up. I dug out my wallet and grabbed four twenties. “Why don’t the three of you go? I just realized I forgot something that I need to do.”
I walked out. I got in my truck and drove off. I got on the freeway and headed out. I didn’t stop except for gas. I filled up twice and the next thing I knew, I was in Reno. I spent the next 24 hours in the casinos, losing money, winning money, breaking even. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t paying any attention. I just wanted something mindless to take away the pain.
About four Sunday morning, I was thinking a bit more clearly, realizing I needed to hit the road soon if I was going to make it back in time for work. I was walking out of the casino, towards valet parking when I passed a twenty-five dollar slot machine. I had a hundred dollar bill in my pocket; so I figured what the hell, give it a try. I slid it into the bill reader and got my four credits. I hit the button for two credits and spun. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Nothing. Then I spun again. Last two credits. I looked up as I pushed the button, wondering what I was looking for: a red, a white and a blue seven. The first wheel stopped: red seven. The second wheel stopped: white seven. The third wheel stopped: red seven. I won two hundred credits. I won five thousand dollars! I was so shocked. I wanted to spin again, but I couldn’t. The casino had to pay me and have me fill out forms for taxes. While waiting, I dug in my wallet, to see if there was anything else there. Nothing. I checked my coat pocket. I found another hundred in my inner coat pocket, my emergency money. I took it out and put it in the machine next to the one I was playing. Four credits. First spin, I won two credits. Second spin, nothing. Third spin: red seven, white seven, and blue seven; one hundred thousand dollars! I wanted to pass out or faint or scream at the top of my lungs. Instead, an elderly lady behind me did all three.
Well, when you’ve just won so much money, do you think I wanted to rush right back to work? No way. So instead, I checked into the hotel. I sat in my whirlpool tub and ate room service for three days. I was still living in a haze of winner’s delight when it came crashing down Tuesday evening. I made the mistake of calling my mother. Jessica had called, many times, frantic. I was supposed to go out with her on Sunday. I hadn’t even thought about calling her. I’d completely forgotten. So, vacation was over.
On the fourteen-hour drive back to Seattle, I tried to figure out what it was that I really wanted. Tom had played with me, but at least we hadn’t actually slept together. That would have messed with my head even more than the scrambled eggs that my brain currently was. By the time I crossed over into Washington I’d come to a very basic conclusion. I couldn’t see him anymore.
It hurt. A lot. More than anything, he’d been a really good friend. Yeah, there had been a lot more running through it, but the core base was friendship. Oh well, I wasn’t exactly a wallflower. I could find friends easily. I could find sex even easier. I’m tall. I have broad shoulders. I’m not a muscle bound hunk, but I’m defined. No one has ever looked at my face and thrown up. There were plenty of men in London. From the time I lost my virginity that first month at college, I’d had men and always on my timetable. I didn’t go more than a month without companionship, but I wasn’t a slut either. Obviously, I needed to be with a man. It would make me forget what I thought I’d found with Tom.
I stopped off and saw Jessica on my way home. She was upset with me, because I’d worried her. She kept asking me why I’d left. I thought for sure I’d be able to tell her. But I couldn’t. The words lodged in my throat. She’d always been so protective of me. She was like a mama bear around one of her cubs. I knew that if I told her, she’d have Tom’s head on a platter. I couldn’t do it to him. The man was confused. He’d need her, probably more than I do, and I need her pretty damn bad.
Jessica wasn’t happy about it. She and Mike double-teamed me that evening. I tried to distract them with the check for $100,000, but they only said ‘congratulations’ and kept pressing me for information. Jessica is a bulldog when she scents something. Mike is so much more subtle and gentle. Jessica is like a hurricane, fast, brutal and over. Mike is like a gentle stream. He doesn’t have much to begin with, but eventually, he can wear down mountains. He wore me down. I told them everything. About how I’d fallen for him, our almost night together, and the shock and devastation when I found out he was getting married. Jessica came up after I wound down and smacked my arm. Hard. Well, it hurt.
“You dumb shit! He isn’t in love with this girl. He thinks he is. He’s afraid. You should fight for him.” I would have interrupted, but you don’t mess with a woman on a rampage. “Jimmy, you love him. He’s there too, if not completely, then soon. You shouldn’t give up. Go over to his place right now and fight for him!”
I waited for a count of five before I spoke. But she wasn’t done. She railroaded right over me. “You have to. He’s going to be miserable.”
After a few seconds, she raised her eyebrows. I knew it was okay to talk. “Why were you so happy for him when you told me?”
She rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling and screamed. “I hate stupid gay men!” She cupped my face then slapped it. “I was glad you were there, to talk him out of it.”
I felt small. “Oh.”
Mike took over at this point. He was so kind and wrapped his arm around my back. “Don’t push him. Unlike my darling Jessica, not all people prefer to be stampeded. But you should fight for him.”
I left even more confused. I loved the both of them, but there were no answers there, a lot of advice but no answers. Friday night I got dressed up and went club hopping in Seattle. I danced a lot. I drank a little. I went home alone. I lay in bed, thinking of Tom. I remembered the taste of him. I remembered the feel of his hairy body against my smooth one. I remembered how his height fit against my own as I curled around him. I was so fucking hard. I headed to the shower, hoping that the warm water would relax my tired body. Even after thirty solid minutes of hot water, my body still throbbed and ached. I was in a constant state of drool. I lay back in my bed and gripped my aching shaft. I squeezed the head as I began to stroke myself. I forced my mind to think about the last guy I’d been with in London. I filled my head with images of the porn star of my earliest fantasies; anyone but Tom. After twenty minutes of solid stroking, I was no closer to release than I was when I started. I almost stopped, and in that moment, Tom flashed into my head. It was all over. I came hard. I sprayed myself from belly to chin. I cried out and moaned as each pulse of release hit me. My body was drained, my mind wanting to shut down. I didn’t even pull the sheet over me and I was asleep.
The next few weeks were lonely ones. I didn’t realize how much Tom had become a part of my life. We hadn’t gone more than a day between seeing each other. I missed him. Stupid bastard. Asshole. I wasn’t sure whether I was referring to him or myself. But I was pretty damn miserable. I also wasn’t getting over it. Whenever I would go out, I always came home alone. No matter how many offers I got, and there were plenty, I was alone. I couldn’t bring myself to go home with any of them. By the time the third week was done, I knew I’d have to move on. Only I wasn’t ready.
It was a Thursday night when someone knocked at my door. It was almost midnight. Tom. He was standing at my door, knocking, even after I opened it. He looked at me with this very goofy grin and breathed an alcohol soaked ‘hi’ at me. I pulled him inside and shut the door.
“You didn’t drive over here, did you?”
He staggered into my living room, shaking his head. “Nope. I drove to the bar down the street. I walked here when I knew I was too drunk to drive.”
I closed my eyes and willed myself not to get angry. “What are you doing here Tom?”
Tom turned to me and his eyes were so hurt looking. “You stopped coming by.”
I stared at him. The accusation was true, but he must have known why. “I thought it was obvious why.”
He nodded and hiccupped. “Yeah. It was. But you still didn’t have to stop seeing me.”
I got angry. So furious I didn’t care that he was drunk and wouldn’t hear me. “You got engaged after we almost made love!”
Raw hurt flashed in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have stopped.”
That made me pause. “What are you saying?”
“I wanted you. I still do. I took one look at you at the airport and knew I wanted you.” He staggered to me. His hands came up and braced my face. “Don’t be mad.” He brushed his lips against mine and I was lost. My body reacted and I kissed him back. “Kiss me like that again James. I need to feel that way again.”
I kissed him. Man did I ever. If it weren’t for the fact that we can’t live without oxygen, I’m sure I’d still be kissing him. But the moment I broke away to breathe, some of what he said sank in. I need to feel that way again? What did that mean? I stepped back from Tom. I needed some space. That was when I noticed he looked green.
“I thought you said you don’t drink Tom?”
He looked at me, and he kept swallowing. “I don’t. I never wanted to. But I couldn’t face you unless I did.”
I closed my eyes to hide the hurt. A drunken encounter that he could blame on alcohol in the morning. That’s all I was to him. When I opened my eyes, I could tell that Tom was about ten seconds away from losing what he had drunk. I grabbed his arm and forced him into the bathroom. I gripped the back of his neck and pushed him over the bowl as he let loose. I hate it when people puke. Not that it makes me sick too, but it isn’t a pleasant experience.
When he was done, he was barely awake. I cleaned him up a bit and led him out to the couch. I had him lie down and I took off his shoes. The blanket on the back of the couch I used to cover him. I went out onto the balcony. It was a warm, late-May night. I stood out there until dawn, watching Tom sleep it off on the couch. It was getting late; I needed to go to work. I left a note on the coffee table, next to his shoes and car keys. It basically told him to go away and never talk to me again. I went to work and after, walked into the nearest bar and got so damn drunk I had to have a cab take me home.
When I got home, Jessica was waiting for me. She walked inside with me and held me as I cried it all out. When I was done weeping, she helped me into the shower and I blasted my body with enough cold water to sober me up. Jessica held me that night under the covers. She stroked my hair and kept mumbling about ‘silly gay men.’ I didn’t know whether she was referring to Tom, me, or both of us.
I greeted the next day with a headache. Except it wasn’t really a headache. It was just shy of my head falling off my neck, rolling down a large hill filled with cactus, sharp rocks, broken glass, and lava vents. Jessica took me to get my car after packing a bag. I was going to go stay with her for the rest of the weekend.
When we got back to her place, Mike was standing in the driveway, waiting for us. I’ve always liked Mike. He was a bit of a nerd, gangly and awkward. But he doted on Jessica, almost to the point of obsession. She deserved to be worshipped like that. He hugged me and patted my back, telling me how sorry he was. Then he dropped a bomb. “Tom’s inside.”
I’ve never had a panic attack, but I think this came close to one. My breathing became labored and my heart started pounding. I got back in Jessica’s car and demanded she take me home. She refused. Best friends can really be a hassle. That vicious bitch started laughing then grabbed Mike and went back inside. A few minutes later, Tom came out. What was I going to say? What was I going to do?
I don’t know how long we stayed in place, me sitting in my car, Tom standing by the window, looking down at me. Damn, but the man can wear jeans and a v-neck shirt. Lust, love and hurt warred in my chest, making my already jumpy nerves even more jumpy. Then he knocked on the window, startling me. I opened the door and got out. We stared at each other for a few more minutes before I grabbed my bag and walked into Jessica’s house. Tom stayed outside for a few minutes before I heard his car start up. He was gone.
Looking back, I guess you could say that Tom and I had a lot of missed opportunities. But at the same time, we are human beings who are fallible. It is so easy to be an outsider and look at someone else’s relationship and point a finger and say ‘this is where you should have said something’ or ‘why didn’t you just tell him how you felt.’ Our damn hearts get in the way, hold us back, trying to shield us from pain and sorrow. It’s easy to stand on the sidelines and yell for someone to lay it all on the line in a Hail Mary play. The rewards are awesome. But the fear of defeat keeps us rooted to the ground, playing it safe. That’s what that weekend was. Him standing there, looking at me in the car, me staring straight ahead, not knowing what to say. Hindsight is perfect. Now I know that that was where the music gets loud in the movies. Too bad John Williams doesn’t hire out to score individual lives. It would really help.
Tom’s wedding was two weeks away. I sat in my apartment, which was no longer warm and fun, but cold and lonely and brooded. I wanted so badly to go to Tom and shake him to make him see reason. I wanted to fold him in my arms and kiss him. I wanted to take him to bed and slowly taste every inch of his body. I didn’t want sex. I wanted to make love to him. I ached from it. All I had to do was think about him and my pulse would race and my face flush. I guess I had too much pride to actually go and throw myself at him. I lied and told myself that it would get better once he was actually married. After all, then he’d be off limits.
I believed it all until I got the wedding invitation. I stared at that thing for hours. I’d sat down at my dining room table, going through my mail when I came across it. It was a simple, beautiful thing; white and gold and lovely. God, he was actually going through with it. With all the pacing I did, I could have blazed a trail through the thickest Amazonian jungle. I didn’t know what to do.
Three days before the wedding, last day of finals for Tom, found me sitting in my car, right next to his. Jessica had told me that Tom’s fiancée Rebecca was flying in tomorrow. Whatever pride I had, I left behind. I waited for almost a half hour before Tom showed up. I indicated that he get in and he actually did. I drove in silence. Tom did nothing to break it either. I drove about ten miles away and pulled into a motel parking lot. I ran inside and got a key and had Tom follow me into the room. Standard freeway motel fare: two double beds, a bad dresser, ugly picture on the wall and a bathroom with towels the size of washcloths. But I wasn’t there for the furniture.
Like I said, I’d left my pride at home. I walked up to Tom and kissed him, fast and hard, delving my tongue into his mouth and devouring him, taking him where we both wanted to go. He followed my lead. We kissed, we tasted, and we slowly stripped off our clothes. I pushed him onto the bed and lowered my mouth to him. I flicked his leaking, drooling tip with my tongue, tasting his salty, tangy flavor. His muffled gasp as I took the head into my mouth kept me going, pushing hard, and stuffing him into my mouth. The man was thick, not that long, but very thick. He also leaked more than any other man I’d ever been with. He lasted perhaps twenty bobs of my head before he arched his back and cried out as his legs trembled under my arms. My mouth was filled with all of his release, tangy, salty and thick. I tried to swallow, but there was too much. Most of it dribbled down my chin and pooled on my chest.
I moved under his legs, lifting and parting them. I had enough of his cum on my chin and chest that I doubted I’d need all the lube I’d brought with me. So I wiped up a glob from my chest and smoothed it over his hole, licking after it, pushing my tongue into his ring, trying to breach it. I kept going, long minutes of wet, hot stabs and leisurely laps with my tongue. Eventually, he either relaxed or his resistance was gone, but he opened. I moved up his body, pressing my crotch into his, letting his knees brace my hips as I lowered to kiss him as I pressed forward. It was a long, slow, achingly beautiful joining of my body to his. I could have cum just from that moment when his ring opened and let me slip inside.
I pushed inside of Tom over and over again. I braced myself on my arms and watched as his body pulled and writhed and arched beneath me. I lowered to my elbows and rested my chest against his, forcing his attention to me. His body was strumming and trembling with each push into him. I watched his face as he reached for his release, going between wonder, confusion and near begging, as I kept moving over and over inside him. My cock felt like it was in a wet, tight channel. My heart was pounding, much harder than my physical exertion warranted. I could tell my skin was flushed, as I kept moving, driving hard, wanting both of our pleasures to come. Tom looked straight into my eyes and I couldn’t look away from them. His gaze was so intense, it was as if he’d let every shield down and let me look right into his soul. It only made it more intense as my hips kept moving. I twisted my hips at one point, driving into Tom with a corkscrew pattern and it must have been that last bit of sensation he needed because he clamped down on my shaft and his body arched as he cried out from his second orgasm of the day. Watching him cum, knowing that I had brought him to this point was too much and I followed quickly. I lowered my forehead to his as I cried out my own pleasure, flooding his gut with my heart and soul and seed.
As my breath slowed, I realized what kind of a mistake I had just made. In the heat of the moment, rationality flies out the window. I couldn’t move off of Tom. I couldn’t even withdraw myself from him. I lay there, nuzzling his forehead with my own, wanting him to say something, anything that would let me know that this wasn’t what I thought I had wanted. I had set out to have a fuck fest, something to get him out of my system. This only made it worse.
I was still wedged inside of Tom; just as hard as I was when we started. He looked in my eyes and I moaned, dropped my forehead against his, and started moving again. This time was fast and hard and nothing like the slow, gentle time before. I fucked him through two more orgasms before I came again. I was drained. Not physically, I could have gone again and again. But emotionally I was wiped out. I got up and pulled Tom with me to the shower. First time and all that, I wanted to make sure he was okay.
We stood under the shower, kissing and touching each other. We never spoke more than gentle murmurs of encouragement or quiet commands of desire. By the time we were done in the shower, we were hard and ready again for another go. I lay back on the bed and told Tom it was his turn. The man was clumsy and awkward, but it was the best damn time I ever bottomed for someone. I never understood before this that emotions do intensify the sex. All the sex I had before paled compared to this long afternoon spent in bed with Tom.
It was nearly eight that night when we got dressed and left. The room smelled like sex and the bed was torn up. But I’m sure housekeeping had seen it all before. We were almost back to his car, and we hadn’t said anything to each other. I couldn’t let it go. I just couldn’t. I loved this dumb man. The last few hours proved it to me. I couldn’t let him walk away.
“Are you hungry?”
Tom chuckled. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since last night.”
I made our way to our favorite burger place. The hostess recognized us. We sat down, ordered and still said nothing. I was about to explode. My mind wanted me to run, my heart wanted me to stay, and my pride wanted to reach across the table and start smacking some sense into Tom. I decided to settle on a bit of all three.
“What happens now, Tom?”
Tom looked me right in the eyes. “I’m getting married on Saturday.”
I actually felt myself wince from that blow. “Then what did we just spend eight hours doing?”
He looked anywhere but in my eyes. All he gave me was a shrug. “Sex.”
I think if our food hadn’t arrived then, I’d have leapt over the table and strangled him. But it did, which is probably why Tom is still breathing. We ate in silence; I didn’t even taste my food. The moment I was done, I threw two twenties on the table and left, Tom followed a few moments later. We got in my truck and drove back to where his car was parked at the school. He got out and I followed. I was too angry for pride, too angry for remorse, and much too angry to keep it inside any longer.
“I love you Tom. I have almost from the first moment I saw you.”
He looked at me like I was from some distant planet. But I kept going. “I’d have gladly given you anything and everything. I’d worship the ground you walk on. Breakfast in bed, lazy Sunday’s watching football, anything you wanted I’d give you and gladly.” I knew tears were streaming down my face, but I didn’t care. “You are making a huge mistake. Lie and say that you’re bi if you have to, but don’t deny the fact that you loved every single second of the time we just spent together.”
Tom tried to speak, but I was too far-gone to let him even form a single word. “I love you damn it! Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to us. Please?” It was desperate and pathetic and I didn’t give a damn anymore. I waited. I waited for a long time, but he said nothing, just gave me a very pitying look. I sobbed and turned from him, got in my truck and drove off. I took both Mike and Jessica’s advice. I got nothing from it.
This is where you’re expecting the happy ending. That Tom got in his car and came after me, we met at my apartment and went inside and never left that cocoon of love. Wrong! Tom got married on Saturday. I took a few weeks off and tried to get my head on straight. I came home with a moderate tan and able to go a full twenty-four hours without crying. But that was it. Jessica said I looked like something from a zombie movie. Which was probably accurate, I felt like the walking dead. My heart was dead; my body might as well have followed.
I know I sound like some melodramatic queen, but that was how it was. By the end of the summer, I could actually smile and mean it. I bet you’re wondering what I did with my winnings. Well, I paid off my truck and bought a house. Not very interesting is it? I didn’t think so either.
In November, I finally started dating again. I seemed to have become a different man to the people in the bar. I must have had a neon sign above my head that screamed ‘walking wounded.’ That first time I hooked up with someone was almost a washout. But he was patient and kind and eventually, we both got off. The second time was easier. The third was even better. But it still wasn’t anything like what I’d had with Tom.
Christmas came and went. I spent the holidays with Jessica and Mike. Both of them made sure to never mention Tom’s name. New Year’s Eve was spent with some guy from one of the clubs I started hanging out at. I really couldn’t tell you his name or even the color of his hair. I was really a callow shit.
So, we’re coming up on Valentine’s Day. Supposedly, this is a time for lovers. I seem to have this complete Bah Humbug attitude. It was about ten o’clock on Thursday evening, just before V-Day, someone knocked on my door. All I could think was that I hoped it wasn’t that guy from two weeks ago. Somehow, no didn’t mean no to him. He’d followed me home from work. I grabbed the phone and opened the door. Tom.
My God, he looked like shit. He’d lost twenty pounds. His hair was too long and he hadn’t shaved for at least four days. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept, or if he had, he’d slept in his clothes. How did he get my new address?
Tom looked in my eyes and instantly his filled with tears. Well hell, there went my last bit of resolve. I pulled him inside and he clung to me, sobbing against my shoulder. It took several hours to get him to calm down. Between sobbing and coughing and crying and wailing, it was almost one before he quieted down. The man doesn’t talk. It’s like pulling teeth to get him to say anything. But man, that night, once he calmed down, I couldn’t get him to shut up. Nothing I did would get him to stop yammering.
He told me everything. We went over his marriage, the honeymoon, and the breakdown of it after. They fought. They had nothing in common. He left her a few weeks ago, basically living on the largesse of friends. The man was looking about as close to the end of his rope as I’d ever thought to see anyone. Well, my house had three bedrooms, two had beds, and the other had an office. I showed him to one and I went into the other.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling long after I shut the door. I knew I wasn’t over him. But I didn’t expect it to be this strong still. I loved this man. And now I knew I probably always would. I tossed and turned for many hours, falling asleep just before dawn. I woke sometime later that morning with the sun streaming in my face. I rolled away, trying to get away from the light when I saw Tom sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at me.
To say I was startled wouldn’t be accurate. It was more like seeing an angel. Okay, if your angel hadn’t shaved and needed a few good meals, but an angel nonetheless. “What do you want, Tom?”
He swallowed hard. “You.”
I closed me eyes to shut the temptation out. Where was this eight months ago? Why didn’t you say this then? “For eight hours?”
He barely whispered it, but I heard him anyway. “Forever.”
It made me open my eyes and stare at him. “I don’t trust you, Tom. How can I?”
He looked like I’d punched him. “I can’t ask you to trust me. But I mean it.”
I shook my head. This was everything I ever wanted. But… could I let him back in? Would I survive? “Why?”
He looked so pitiful, sitting at the end of the bed, raw hope and fear in his eyes. If he said the right thing, I knew I’d take him back. “I need you.”
I didn’t realize how much hope I’d built up in that short moment. That is until it was dashed away. My voice broke as I spoke. “Go away Tom.”
The man actually started to cry. But he did get up and walk away. I even heard the door open then shut, so softly. I spent the rest of the day with a constant sheen of tears in my eyes, only a few of them fell, which probably explains why my throat hurt so much. I couldn’t allow myself to grieve. Not yet.
Jessica called me the next day at work. Tom was staying with her. I bought my house because it was within a short walking distance to Jessica’s. Little did I know how much I’d regret it.
It all started with a note tacked to my door. All that was on it was a large letter ‘I’. The next day there was a ‘L’ and a red rose on the door step. Then an ‘O’, the red rose and a white carnation. Each day I got another letter and a new flower added to the ones already given: purple gladiolus, pink tulips, yellow daisies, even a bird of paradise. As you can probably imagine, I was incredibly touched. When I arranged the notes in order, it spelled out ‘I love yo.” I figured the ‘U’ was coming tomorrow.
I wasn’t going to wait though. If Tom could do this, he was obviously sincere. I went over to Jessica’s. Tom was sitting on the couch, watching television. I walked right up to him and pulled him to me. I looked in his eyes and started kissing him. He moaned against my lips as I kept kissing him more, further, deeper.
I was kissing against his lips as I mumbled out, “I got your notes.”
Tom was kissing me, mumbling as I had. “What notes?”
What notes? That made me pause. What notes? But, he had to have been the one… Tom was the one… “You didn’t tack those notes to my door? With the flowers?”
Tom looked at me. Really looked at me. “No. It’s a wonderful idea, but I didn’t. I was going to come by tonight and plead again.” He leaned up to kiss me. Now I felt sick. If Tom hadn’t, who had? That guy from the club. It must be him. Oh my God!
I pulled away from Tom, looked at him and realized that this was what really mattered. Okay, so it was some sick stalker’s idea, but the result was the same. I’d take Tom however he’d come to me. The man’s not a romantic, not in the slightest. But I loved him. I smiled at Tom and took his hand. “Where’s your room?”
He started trembling; I could feel it in my hand. “Are you sure?”
I grinned. “Definitely.”
Well as you can imagine, we went to bed. It was after the second round, as we were holding each other, trying to catch our breath, that we heard Mike and Jessica outside the door, applauding, catcalling and whistling. Tom and I looked at each other and busted up laughing. We were both beet red with embarrassment, but it was incredibly funny.
We got dressed and went out to talk to Jessica and Mike. I couldn’t look at them, but we sat and talked anyway. You know how it goes, the first few weeks were filled with moving stuff, finding a comfortable routine. Tom went back to school and finished up his education. I continued working. We spent long hours in bed, longer hours holding each other.
A few months later, it was my twenty-sixth birthday. Tom was antsy that morning, sending me off to work with a powerful kiss but definitely pushing me towards the door. I was feeling playful and was trying to tease him. I kept forgetting something, like my car keys, and spent many minutes searching. Tom was near tears when I finally left for work. That night, when I got home, the dining room was almost ablaze with two hundred candles. Just walking into the room was like walking into an inferno. I smelled something burning, so I went into the kitchen. Tom was standing over the stove, flour dusted most of the counters, and smoke hung in swirling clouds near the ceiling. I took it all in, the cake that was lopsided and frosted as if by finger paint, the roast that was smoldering in the pan on top of the stove, and the very disheveled, very sweet, very endearing Tom who was practically in tears.
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. What was a valiant effort to not cry broke down and the floodgates emptied. Tom was bawling. I hugged him up tightly and stroked his back, still caught up in chuckles from time to time. He had tried so hard to do something special for me. I was very touched. I lifted his face and traced the tear tracks with my thumbs. I lowered my lips to his and kissed him so softly, so gently. His sobs quickly quieted as his passion rose. Before we knew it, we were naked, rolling around under the dining room table, sweating profusely from the candle warmth. When it was over, we blew out the candles, opened all the windows and doors to air the place out, then ordered a couple of pizzas and then made late night forays into the kitchen to smear chocolate cake over our bodies only to lick it off slowly.
It’s been three years now. Tom is still the least romantic man I know, and pretty damn clueless sometimes. But I love him, just as he loves me. Yes, he finally told me, that evening, after we left Jessica’s and went back to my place. He doesn’t say it often, but he doesn’t have to. The fact that he’s with me, looks at me adoringly, and even dotes on me tells me without any words how much he loves me. This wasn’t the easiest time for two people who love each other to come together. But it was worth it.
Oh yeah, the stalker… never heard from him again. Mike put the notes and flowers there. Being the wonderful, romantic soul that he is, he decided to help things along. Like I said, the man was a gawky nerd, but I’m damn glad Jessica had him.