Chapter 8
8
T he sidewalks were practically sizzling beneath our feet as Aaron, Katie, and I braved the sweltering heat of late July for some retail therapy. It was a Saturday so the stores were crowded, but that may have had as much to do with the fact that the air-conditioning was blasting indoors while the temperature outside was a good thirty degrees higher.
With arms laden with bags, Aaron pushed his sunglasses down his nose and declared it was time for refreshments. The three of us headed toward our favorite bistro in town, which was thankfully close by. Katie and I watched in amusement as Aaron flirted shamelessly with the hostess, somehow scoring us a table for three with no wait.
Katie and I would usually give him a hard time about teasing the poor sweet girl, but we were too grateful to be seated in the cool interior of the hip little bistro to care how we came by our table.
“Oh my God! I have under-boob sweat! So gross!” Katie sighed dramatically as she took a big gulp of ice water.
“Ewww! TMI!” Aaron and I groused, though I was sweaty in places I didn’t care to be as well.
“Drink plenty of water, my friends, because I think a mojito or two may be in order!” Aaron proclaimed, his hazel eyes alight with enthusiasm.
Katie and I both agreed and once again let Aaron work his magic, this time with a pretty college-age waitress. Katie laughed appreciatively at Aaron’s antics while she rummaged through her enormous designer bag and came up with a hair band to tie back her long auburn hair. Katie was a pretty girl with sharp features on a pixie small frame. Everything about her was delicate and bird-like. But her personality was exactly the opposite.
She was a boisterous, loud, lively girl who was always game for fun. Whether it was shopping, dining, or partying, Katie liked to be part of the action. And she loved being with Aaron and me, her favorite gays.
Once our drinks were served and our lunch orders placed, I noticed my friends quietly studying me. I shifted my gaze between the two of them and caught on that they had something to say. Oh boy. I got the impression I wouldn’t like it either.
“What is it? Do I have mint in my teeth?” I asked sarcastically, taking another sip of my mojito.
“Slow down, honey. You’ll be sloshed before your lunch comes at the rate you’re going,” Aaron sagely advised. I saw him give Katie a quick glance, urging her to say something.
“We’re worried about you, Jay.” Katie hated confrontations. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“Oh?” I saw Aaron give Katie a pointed stare, then roll his eyes. He obviously saw that he would have to take over.
“What Katie is trying to say is that… well, yes, we’re worried about you. You seem distracted, but not in a happy way. It’s time to share your burdens, darling. We’re your best friends. It’s time to talk.”
Distracted was probably an accurate word for my state of mind in recent days. The time I spent with Peter was amazing. The sex was off-the-charts fantastic, but more than that, we had become friends. Real friends. We saw each other regularly and slept over whenever we felt like it, which was at least three or four nights a week now.
The fact that we worked together really hadn’t become a factor because we weren’t actively engaged in the same project. Peter still traveled a lot, but I noticed that I was the first person he called when he came home… if he bothered to stop by home at all. We were good together, and we had fun together. And that was the problem.
Every day that passed, I wanted more. I wanted words that would acknowledge that we were more than “fuck buddies” and this was more than a temporary deal rooted only in physical attraction. I was afraid to push Peter because I didn’t want to lose him. It was gratifying to know I had great friends who worried about me, because frankly I was worried about me too.
I stared at my drink a moment longer and bit at my bottom lip wondering how much I should say. Of course, in the end I told them everything. I told them what Peter and I had intended and how I now felt. I took another drink and made another confession.
“I’m looking for another job.”
“ What ?” They both stopped middrink and stared at me with disbelieving expressions. Aaron was the first to recover.
“Jaybird, I know you work too much and too hard, but you’ve also worked hard to get where you are. Is this because of Peter? Because if it is….”
“No. I mean, yes, but it’s…. I’m conflicted here. I like my job. I don’t love it. The truth is that I would rather be at a smaller firm where I can be out in front of the clients more than I am now. I do research. A ton of research, and I know I would still do that no matter where I landed, but if I got to leave the office once in while too, it would be heaven. I think I need a change. In the long run, whatever happens between Peter and me it would be simpler if we didn’t work together.” I shrugged, indicating I had nothing more to say and certainly no answers.
We were quiet when our lunch was delivered to our table. Aaron ordered another round of drinks, declaring we needed it. He flirted shamelessly with the cute waitress. I appreciated the reprieve his silliness gave me, and I had a feeling he knew that.
“Has it occurred to you to confront him about your feelings rather than waiting for him to shut you down? I mean, it seems to me that you’re already in over your head. You like him. A lot. Why not tell him?” Katie looked at me inquisitively, as though I were making this into something more complicated than it had to be.
“Because he’s told me what he wants! He was clear, Katie. Haven’t you been listening?”
Katie put her glass down and made a production of gently dabbing her heavily glossed lips with her napkin while locking me in a meaningful stare with an intense expression on her face. Uh-oh. Whenever Katie got intense, someone was in for it. She may not care for confrontation but I had a feeling she had moved past that in favor of giving me an earful.
“Jay. You don’t listen. You are good man, a good soul with a beautiful heart, but you have a glaring flaw. You don’t listen! You hear what you want to hear and you move on. Peter tells you he wants things one way, and you take only the face value of his words without considering the fact that he’s telling you something else on a whole other level!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I looked over at Aaron to see if he was in the dark too, but he was wearing a thoughtful expression.
“People communicate in various ways, honey. Sometimes it’s too hard to say words with real meaning, so we circle around and around without spitting out what’s really on our minds. I don’t know Peter, but I do know you. You told Aaron and me that you had a crush on him; then you hated him until you reevaluated your stance after he helped you with Aaron. Now you’re in a relationship, which may have started out as a casual one, but all indications are that it’s progressed into something more.” She was still looking at me like I was more than a little obtuse, but her eyes were kind. Katie adored me. I knew that, so I encouraged her to go on. “Peter has shared his religious and family shit because those are things that have kept him from committing to other people, like Jack. Have you considered that he wants what you do but he’s got to work through his issues?”
Huh? No. I hadn’t considered that Peter was speaking to me on another level. That sounded like wishful thinking.
“Jay, remember when you said you were sure Peter had a girlfriend and I said ‘no, that man is gay and he has the hots for you’?” Aaron reminded me.
“Yeah, well I didn’t….”
“Katie’s right. You were only looking at the surface. You weren’t listening. You saw this gorgeous man you thought was unattainable, and you made assumptions at every turn, and never in your favor. You assumed he was straight and taken. You assumed he was an asshole until he did something to make you reconsider. Maybe Katie’s right. Maybe where Peter’s concerned, you are playing it too safe because you’re assuming he’s going to reject you. Maybe you need to take a chance.”
“Wait a second. You told me a month ago that you were worried about me getting too attached to someone who didn’t want the same things I do! Why are you telling me to put it all out there with him now? That makes no sense!” I was frustrated now, and the rum had gone to my head a little bit.
“I was worried! I am still. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to get hurt, but I think… Katie’s right. Sometimes you have to take a chance. If he doesn’t want the same things you do, maybe he isn’t the right guy for you.”
Katie nodded in agreement. They both looked so earnest, I wanted to reassure them somehow and strike a chord of levity to brighten up our afternoon to take their attention away from my problems. I hated that everything seemed heavy somehow. Like the suffocating summer heat had made its way indoors and was choking the life out of me. They were right, though. I knew it. Was I really okay with settling for a lifetime role of “friends with benefits” until the man who didn’t want to acknowledge me as someone special to him decided he was over us? No. But I was afraid to do anything more than take what Peter gave me for fear of losing him.
July gave way to an even hotter August. I woke up in Peter’s bed alone and stretched my arms above my head, listening for noises to indicate where he might be. I pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and headed downstairs to find my lover standing in front of his restaurant grade coffee machine.
He looked delicious wearing a lightweight pair of PJ bottoms and nothing else. His bare, muscle-toned torso was enough to make my mouth water. Impulsively, I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind in a light embrace, planting a kiss on his nape. He started as though I’d caught him unaware.
“Mmm. Morning.” I moved to stand next to him and leaned my hip on the counter.
Peter smiled sleepily and reached over to brush my hair out of my eyes. It had grown out quite a bit, and my dark-blond locks were now streaked with sun-kissed gold. I caught his hand near my mouth and kissed it. Peter’s grin widened.
“You are so damn pretty, baby.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You.” He turned away to grab two mugs and busied himself pouring coffee.
“You off to some faraway place today?” I asked while I waited for my cup. Peter had traveled a lot that week. It was Thursday morning, so I thought there was a fair chance he might be off again.
“No. I’m in the office today. I have meetings all day.” He poured himself some coffee before leaning against the counter opposite me. “I’ve been thinking about something.”
My heartbeat sped up, and it had nothing to do with the jolt of caffeine. It was small statements like that which made me aware things were more tenuous between us than I would have liked. Uncertainty wasn’t something I did well with.
“Oh?” I tried to play it cool. I was terrible at feigning nonchalance. Peter gave me a lopsided grin and reached out toward me again before pulling his arm down. He coughed and looked away, seeming embarrassed by his affectionate gesture.
“I was thinking it might be nice to get away this weekend. Maybe go to the beach? A friend of mine has a small house in Rehoboth he said was free for the weekend. Want to get away for a couple of days?”
He could barely look at me and his words were a jumble. I had to sort them through my own head to catch his meaning, and when it dawned on me what he was asking, I was almost too surprised to answer. Peter finally turned his full attention to me when I didn’t respond immediately.
“Um… yes. That sounds amazing.”
Peter gave in to his own impulses and yanked me into his arms, pressing our bare chests together. I tilted my head slightly to look into his eyes and was taken aback by the desire I saw there. For the first time since we had begun our “affair,” I knew without needing a word of confirmation that Peter was feeling all the same things for me that I felt for him. I hadn’t taken my friends’ advice to confront him yet, but a lightness in my heart at his adoring gaze made me think my confession might not be so poorly met after all.
I smiled in return and kissed him passionately, throwing every unsaid sentiment into the action.
The drive from DC to Rehoboth, Delaware, took two and a half hours. We left on Friday in the early afternoon. Peter worked in the morning, while I had opted to take the entire day off. I hadn’t done anything so decadent while I worked at Jackson and Burnell. It felt liberating, and was probably a sure sign that change on the work front might be a good thing for me.
I hadn’t said anything to Peter about it yet. The timing hadn’t been right for any of the bigger subjects I probably should have braved. Maybe this weekend, I mused.
I talked nonstop during the drive. I couldn’t stop myself. I was full of nervous excitement, which led to a litany of endless chatter. My commentary ranged from the weather (“So damn hot, I can’t wait to get to the beach!”) to the scenery (which varied from “Yuck. Hopefully this area will get cleaned up!” to “Unbelievable! It is so beautiful here!”).
Peter didn’t seem to mind. We got stuck in a little traffic on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, which made him a little tense. However, I noticed that he seemed to relax the more I talked, so I happily obliged.
We arrived in the seaside town of Rehoboth in the late afternoon. Peter parked his SUV in the carport attached to a huge Nantucket-style, gray-shingled two-storied beach house, complete with an unobstructed view of the Atlantic Ocean from the wraparound porch.
The interior was spacious and welcoming, and obviously had been remodeled recently with gleaming plank hardwood flooring and updated lighting. The kitchen was enormous with a giant island and a breakfast nook with a grand bay window boasting a lovely ocean view. Peter took me upstairs to the master suite, which featured a large king-size four-poster bed and a generous bank of windows with more views of the golden beach and Atlantic beyond. It was glorious.
“Wow!” I set my bag down on the bench at the foot of the bed and went straight for the window. It was a magnificent setting.
“You like?” Peter nuzzled my neck as he slung his arm around my waist bringing my hip in contact with his.
I turned into his arms, bringing our bodies as close together as possible while still fully clothed.
“I’m going to take that as a yes.”
I nodded, licking his neck from his Adam’s apple to the tip of his stubbled chin, gently biting him before showering him in silly kisses meant to make him laugh. He chuckled and pulled his arms straight so that I stood a couple of feet away from him. I offered him a comical smile, and he laughed again, calling me an idiot before he gathered me close in his arms again.
I sighed happily. Chances were pretty damn good that we’d spend a good deal of our time in the bed behind us, but frankly this… standing in the circle of his embrace… felt better than anything I could have imagined. I was where I belonged.
We rode bikes into town for dinner at a seafood restaurant that Peter assured me served the best clam chowder he’d ever eaten. He was noticeably more relaxed. It had been a slow progression from the moment we began our drive to the time we were seated at our oceanfront table.
By the time we had ordered our first glass of wine, Peter’s demeanor was carefree and tranquil. He had listened to my countless meanderings for hours, but now he was an equal participant in our conversation as he regaled me with stories of other visits to the area.
A good friend from college owned the property we were staying at and frequently opened it for his friends to use. Peter had been a number of times and seemed to know the area well. He was full of ideas for entertainment. We could bike everywhere, explore the town, go body surfing.
His eyes lit up as he talked on. He became more attractive to me than ever as he lost his inhibitions and began to think of fun ways to spend our time together at the beach.
“What are you smiling at?” he grinned with his glass half raised to his lips.
“You… you just seem happy. That’s all. It’s nice to see you let your hair down.”
Peter quirked his head to the side as if pondering my observation.
“I am happy.” The smile he gave me then was breathtaking.
I wondered if this was one of those moments my friends had talked about that I seemingly had a terrible time reading. Was he trying to tell me I made him happy, or was I guilty of asserting the meaning I hoped was true? I sat there with my heart in my throat wishing I were brave enough to tell him how I felt. It was on the tip of my tongue to say the words, but fear held me back.
We awoke the following morning to the sound of seagulls crying and the crash of waves on the seashore. Peter looked over at me with hooded eyes. I leaned over, kissed him chastely on his lips, and wished him a good morning.
He returned my kiss with fervor and gently pushed me back on the bed as he explored my waking body with sure, firm hands. I remembered his boast months ago that he was good with his hands and damn but it was true. I was rock hard and begging for more within minutes.
Peter slid his body against mine with an urgency that let me know he was as desperate for contact as me. Our precum created a natural lube as we ground our pelvises together. I stuck my right hand between us to grasp his thick cock while reaching around to grope his ass with my left hand. I was trying to pull him as close to me as possible but I felt him slide his body forward as though he were trying to get more of my hands where he wanted them… on his ass. Or maybe in his ass? I gulped.
We’d never gone there. Peter had topped me exclusively, and honestly, there had never been a discussion about preferences. I decided to feel him out, so to speak as I let my left hand slide a little farther between his cheeks.
He moved up my body, giving me better access to finger his hole. I swallowed hard, feeling a thin sheen of sweat cover my forehead as I gently rubbed over his opening. Peter sighed somewhere above me. His eyes were closed in blissful concentration. He seemed lost in his own pleasure.
“Honey, give me the lube.”
Peter looked down at me as if seeing me for the first time. I wondered for a second if he was going to stop me and take control. I watched as he licked his lips thoughtfully, his dark eyes clouded with desire. He leaned over toward the nightstand and handed me the lube, then set a condom beside his knees. Whose dick it was going to cover was still undetermined.
I took the lube with unsteady hands and poured a generous amount on my right hand. I used my other arm to bring him closer to me so that he straddled my chest completely with his hard, weeping cock inches from my mouth. I licked the head of his beautiful dick and heard his moan somewhere above me.
I was practically whimpering myself as I ran my tongue over his slit bathing him in my saliva, then sucking it clean. I busied my fingers at his ass, rubbing him until he pushed back on to my hand with meaning. Gently I slid one finger inside his tight channel. We both groaned aloud.
Peter ran his hands through my hair and caressed my chest before twisting my nipples almost painfully, sending a shock wave straight to my groin. I was desperate for more. I added a second finger and stretched my writhing partner with my right hand while I let my left drift over my own insistent hard-on. Peter stilled his movement above me and looked deeply into my eyes.
“I want you inside me.” His voice was hoarse. Almost a whisper. I could only nod in acquiescence.
Peter shifted off of my torso and grabbed the condom he’d left on the bed. With sure fingers, he unwrapped it and slid the latex on my turgid member, adding more lube before he climbed back over me. He held my gaze as he set my cock at his entrance and very slowly pushed down. He stopped almost immediately and winced.
“We don’t have to….”
“Shh. I’m fine, baby. It’s just been a while.”
He took a deep breath and tried again, slowly inching his way down my shaft, never breaking eye contact. When he was fully seated I heard a soft cry and realized it was me not so silently begging him to move. Peter chuckled softly as he placed his hands over my neck and on my chest as he rocked his ass in a sensual motion up and down my dick.
He was in complete control as he rode me at a leisurely pace, rolling gently as though trying to reacquaint himself with an old sensation. When he sped up his movement, my breath caught at the sheer beauty of him taking what he wanted. He was passionate, free, and unfettered. I placed my hands on his ass when I couldn’t control my own urges any longer and stilled his hips as I fucked him from below setting a faster tempo.
“Fuck! Yes, fuck me, baby. Like that.”
“Open your eyes, honey.” I could barely hear myself speak but he must have heard me. He looked down at me, his eyes heavy with desire.
I grabbed his cock smearing his precum over it to use as lube and stroked him firmly while I fucked him. I could feel my balls draw up and a wave of ecstasy wash over me at almost the exact same time he lost his rhythm as his own orgasm claimed him. We came at the same time rocking into one another until the last waves subsided and we were left limp and lifeless.
I had been a sexually active gay man for at least a decade, but that was the first time I had ever felt so connected with a lover. I recognized there was a part of me that tended to become overly emotional when things struck me as highly significant. This was one of those moments. I was practically choked with emotion, tongue-tied and more than a little afraid to ask if Peter felt the same way I did. So I kept quiet, deciding once again to follow his lead.
“You think too much,” he reprimanded gently.
He kissed my nose sweetly as he slowly pulled himself off of me and flopped to the other side of the bed. I offered him a watery grin. I couldn’t speak. Thankfully he seemed to understand or at least he didn’t push.
We showered together, quietly washing each other with tender touches and light kisses. I could have happily stayed under the warm spray with him all day, but the water turned cold, forcing us to dry off and figure out other ways to amuse ourselves. After breakfast we opted to change into our suits and head down to the beach.
We body-surfed and sat in the sand talking about everything from politics to feats of engineering. We made each other laugh doing handstands in the sand. Peter was a master, and I would have conceded that he had won our little contest but teasing him was much more fun. When we got hungry, we went back to the house and made a light lunch before falling back into bed.
This time it was Peter who moved inside me with a passion and intensity he’d never shown before. Again, I wanted to quantify our lovemaking but was reluctant to break the spell. I fell asleep in his arms satiated but still longing for something more.
“You hungry, babe?”
I was nestled in Peter’s arms, resting my head on his sun-kissed chest.
“Yes!” I flung my leg over his and hoisted my body so that I lay on top of him, covering him neatly. He chuckled but didn’t attempt to move me. Instead he let his hands wander… over my shoulders, down my back, and finally resting on my ass. He kissed the top of my head and squeezed my body closer to his in a sweet embrace. It was a strong show of affection, and I basked in the sweetness of it until my stomach rumbled loudly announcing it was indeed dinnertime.
Peter laughed and pushed me off of him.
“Come on. A friend of mine owns this great little place in town. It’s a seafood place, but there are other things on the menu if you’re tired of clams, crabs, and fish.” He hopped off the bed and dragged me playfully with him to the shower to get ready.
Rainbow flags flew proudly at the entrance of Greta’s Bistro as they did in front of many of the small businesses along the main drag of Rehoboth. We parked our bikes near the front of the small restaurant. It had a quaint neighborhood vibe known to locals or out-of-towners lucky enough to have stumbled upon the converted bungalow.
Peter’s friend, Greta, was a large woman who looked to be in her midfifties. She was tall and built like a brick, with square features and a heavy torso. Her jet-black hair was wild and liberally streaked with gray. She reminded me of a gypsy with her bangles and colorful billowy clothing. Her face lit up when Peter walked in.
“Well hello! To what do I owe the pleasure, gorgeous?” Her loud voice boomed effectively announcing our arrival to the entire restaurant.
Peter didn’t say a word. He simply wrapped her in a bear-like hug and kissed her cheek. Her huge hoop earrings swayed as she chuckled heartily and pushed him away calling him a scoundrel. I laughed at the silly pirate-like face Peter made.
“Well, who do we have here? Introduce me, darling. Your manners are deplorable!” she teased.
“Greta, my love. This is Jay.”
Peter wrapped his arm around my shoulders like a protective lover. It was uncharacteristic of him to show public displays of affection for any stretch at a time, but he didn’t drop his arm. Instead he pulled me closer and kissed my ear. I was surprised for sure, but Greta looked positively bowled over. She recovered quickly however.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jay.” She turned to Peter and said in a loud voice, “Where did you find him? He’s positively adorable! Let me get my best table ready for you boys.”
“You say that about all your tables, Greta.”
“True. True.” She winked at Peter and made a motion for us to follow her to a table for two near the front with big open windows that looked out on the busy tourist street and the boardwalk beyond. This was a gay-friendly seaside town, so the people-watching was particularly spectacular. My eyes were trained on a pair of handsome muscle-bound men holding hands when I heard Greta utter the phrase that effectively altered the course of the whole weekend.
“Tell me when you and your boyfriend are ready, darling. I’ll serve you myself.”
I turned to smile at her and was immediately aware of a subtle shift in Peter’s demeanor. I clued in quickly. “Boyfriend.” It was a word we had never used, and it had never come up in any conversation we’d had other than to talk about our pasts. Although when Peter discussed it, he simply had always stated that he was not “boyfriend material.” I could almost see the physical wall begin to fall into place, and I was powerless to do anything about it.
Peter smiled at Greta and took a long sip of water before addressing her, “We’re just friends.”
My stomach dropped. I had a sudden fear that I would be sick. I felt a flush of heat creep over my body like a spider slowly creeping its way up my arm, over my chest, and finally burning my cheeks. I was grateful for the dim lighting. I was counting on it to hide my embarrassment at being publicly put in my place, so to speak.
What was I thinking? Being friends was what we agreed to. Why couldn’t I just keep my end of the bargain and be happy with what was the best sex of my life with a stunningly handsome, successful, fun guy? Was I just greedy?
Greta left us with menus and a promise to return pronto. An eerie silence settled between us. When I couldn’t take it a moment longer, I did what I always did when the quiet threatened to strangle me… I talked. Incessantly. Peter was used to my moments of nervous chatter by now and would usually calmly place his hand over mine, wordlessly telling me not to worry.
Not this time.
I talked until I was sick of my own voice and could really think of nothing more to say that didn’t sound completely moronic. I paused to take a drink of water and silence reigned again. When neither of us attempted to fill the void, Peter looked up at me and offered an apologetic smile. I accepted it and even offered him a lopsided grin in return, but something was lost.
We headed back for DC early the next morning. Peter claimed he had work he couldn’t ignore even though it was a Sunday. I claimed to understand. I figured I was being asked indirectly to give him space. Of course I was shit at reading him, so he could have truly meant he had work to catch up on, I thought sarcastically.
I wanted to be hurt by his standoffish behavior, but he was subtle. Other than the uncomfortable dinner at Greta’s, he was normal. We made love in the morning before we left, but really it was just sex. A physical release that spoke more about resetting expectations. We were fuck buddies. Nothing more.
Peter made an effort to keep up with my rambling conversation and inane observations all the way back to the city. When he dropped me off at my house, he walked me to my door, kissed me sweetly on the lips, and promised to call me.
“I’m flying to Dallas first thing in the morning.” He stood outside my door with his hands in his pockets. His eyes were hidden by his aviator sunglasses, but I knew his gaze was fixed toward something in the distance. He seemed distracted and anxious to be gone.
“Okay. Um… well, travel safe and call me when you can.”
I tried to go for casual and undemanding. When he turned to face me, his smile was brilliant so I assumed I struck the right chord. Unfortunately, it was the wrong one for me. I was crushed, and suddenly very aware that I couldn’t fucking do this anymore. I couldn’t pretend I was fine with this casual bullshit. It wasn’t even a matter of wanting more now. It was a matter of needing it.