Chapter 4 TARAN
Jennie
How were we together for three fucking years and I’m only just now finding out you’re into guys? Honestly, Taran. Do you think it’s appropriate to be engaged to someone, to agree to spend the rest of your life with them, and to keep something that huge from them?
Hell of a text message from the ex-fiancée to wake up to on a Monday morning.
I stared at it for a few seconds, then scrolled upward only to realize she’d texted me three or four times since I’d last read them.
Or at least, since I’d last texted back.
Nothing big, just stuff like, “Found your old charger behind the bed while moving it, can you believe it?” and “Did you know Monique and Billy broke up?”
Like we were just old friends instead of two people who’d been ready to spend the rest of their lives together. Until she fucked around and found out.
I rolled out of bed and tried to shake it off but kept thinking about her text in the shower.
What if I hadn’t found out about Hockey Boy and her?
What if I’d gone to that wedding with Mom and seen Diego, and still been engaged to Jennie?
I couldn’t imagine a world where seeing Diego didn’t bring some old bruises to the surface.
Okay, I couldn’t imagine a world where I didn’t want him on sight.
But maybe I’d have been so into Jennie, so devoted, that I wouldn’t even have thought about Diego like that?
I’d never actually felt tempted like that when I was with someone.
Monogamy was just my natural setting, I guess. But would it be different with Diego?
Shit, I was glad I’d never have to find out.
I definitely would’ve apologized to him at the wedding, either way.
And that would’ve led to me explaining things to Jennie.
Maybe she was right; it was weird that I never told her I was into guys, not outright.
I’d commented on hot guys and even contributed to conversations with her and her friends ranking celebrities in order of hotness, but she’d never asked, so I’d never said.
And I didn’t know what I would’ve said anyhow.
Yeah, obviously I like guys too? Yeah, I’ve been with a guy before, but even if I hadn’t, I’d still be attracted to them, so does it make a difference?
Yeah, but I’ve never said it out loud to anyone but Diego?
I decided to let it cook in the back of my mind while I tried to focus on work for the day.
I say tried, because at lunchtime, Diego sent me a picture of himself in the full-length mirror behind his front door.
He had on a mesh top that fell off one shoulder and his chunky black boots.
But my focus was all on the yellow plaid pleated skirt that—honestly, no idea how his dick wasn’t hanging out the bottom, it was so short.
His thighs were long and well-muscled, all that pretty skin, so close to bronze it probably glittered in the sun, dusted with dark hair I wanted to run my fingers through.
God. Why didn’t more men wear skirts? We were missing the fuck out.
Diego
Fit check for tomorrow night. WDYT?
How the hell am I supposed to concentrate at work now?
?? What time?
Right now. Goddamn, you look incredible.
??
I get home by 6 usually. I’ll make sure I get there early.
Do I get a fit check from you? Something to look forward to?
I squirmed a little in my desk chair, grinning in the sure knowledge that he was doing this to me in the middle of my workday fully on purpose. He was probably just waking up for his.
Heh. And he took the time to put on an outfit I knew damn well he wasn’t gonna wear to work just to take a picture for me. Orrrrrr he had a backlog of hot pictures, which, fair enough. If I looked like him, I might too.
Wait til I get blood flow back to my brain. I’ll think of something.
***
“Hey! Happy hour?” Bettina trotted up beside me on my way to the elevator at five thirty.
I almost said no automatically, but then I remembered I was gonna spend the whole night horny and alone. That was worth putting off as long as possible.
Before I could reply, she said, “What, you got a hot date with another history podcast?”
“Hey, those history podcasts are always there for me,” I said with a snort. Fucking had my number, didn’t she? “But yeah, I’m in. Kyle coming?”
“Yeah, he’s gonna meet us. Where you wanna go?”
I wanted to go to Diego’s South Side bar, The Pike. But that would be weird of me, so I just said, “I’m up for whatever.”
We ended up at a martini bar on Penn Ave, since it was close to the building where Kyle, Bettina’s husband, worked. A couple of other people from work joined in, and I thought I was doing pretty good with the social stuff. Until Bettina elbowed me and asked, “You okay? You seem kind of out of it.”
“Oh. Uh. Just thinking about…” I wasn’t sure how to answer it.
I was flailing between wanting to stare at Diego’s thighs in that picture and trying to come up with something equally alluring to send him.
Wasn’t gonna be a dick pic—no matter how much he claimed to like mine, that was missing the point.
But I’d never been much of a tease. Not visually, anyhow.
Bettina, who’d declared herself my work-wife ages ago and had many times lured me into a TMI chat after hours, leaned forward eagerly. “About someone?”
“Yeah.”
“I knew it! I knew you’d be over her in no time!” Bettina clapped her hands. “Who is she?”
I took a deep breath. No one else at the table was paying attention to us, since they were all enraptured by one of Kyle’s stories. So I went ahead and said, “He.”
Bettina clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes scrunching up with a huge smile. “Oh my god!”
I swallowed hard. See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? “This guy I used to—kinda date in high school. We reconnected this weekend. I don’t know.”
“What? Oh my god, that’s so romantic. Also, how did I not know you’re bi?” She frowned. “Pan?”
“Yeah, either one, I think.” They both seemed to explain it fine, but also not quite, so whatever, right? “Queer, anyway.”
Yeah. That felt right. Felt good to say it, actually.
“Girl, tell me everything.”
Bettina had never called me girl before, but here we were.
I laughed and sipped my martini as I filled her in on the basics of me and Diego.
I conveniently left out the part where we had a huge fucking fight—our only fucking fight, actually—right before I left for college and never spoke to him again.
Bettina and I were close, yeah. But not close enough that I wanted to tell her all the bad shit about me, too.
“He sounds adorable,” she said. “If you need date night ideas, just let me know; I make Kyle do at least one every weekend with me.”
I wasn’t desperate for ideas there yet. I was desperate in other areas, though. “Actually—those photos you had taken for your tenth anniversary?”
“Yessssss?” She grinned.
She’d been really proud of getting some boudoir photos taken last year. She hadn’t shown them to me or anything, but she’d told me all about the shoot and how fun it was, and Kyle had assured me that he appreciated the gift.
Seemed like she’d be a good person to ask, “Did he do anything like that? No—wait, no, I don’t wanna know that,” I corrected myself with a laugh. “If he did something like that… what would he do? Like, what would you want a picture of?”
“Not a dick pic, right?”
“No, definitely not,” I said. Which was funny, seeing as last time we hooked up, Diego had insisted I get my dick out before he even touched me just so he could see it. But… well. Diego. “Something way more low-key but with that vibe.”
“For him?”
I nodded, flushing and trying to hide it behind my drink.
She considered. Looked me up and down—not in a creepy way, but just like she was sizing up a prospect. “Do you have any gray sweatpants?”
“Yeah, tons.”
“Just put those on, then a tank top or something, and that’s all you need.”
I frowned. “Sweatpants?”
“Let’s just say they hug everything just right. Not that I’m looking at your—” She raised her eyebrows. “But trust me.”
“Is this a thing?” I wondered.
“Oh, it’s a thing.”
“What’s a thing?” Kyle finally noticed we weren’t listening to his story.
If it had just been Kyle, I would’ve asked for his input too; he was a cool guy, and almost as into TMI as his wife. But with the others there, nah. No way.
“Banana chocolate martinis,” Bettina said without missing a beat.
Franny from accounting made a puking sound into her martini. “Gross.”
When the danger had passed, I leaned over and said quietly, “We’re kind of an HR nightmare, aren’t we?”
“Hey, we’re not in the office,” she pointed out with a grin. “Speaking of, we’re doing the thing at PNC Park again this year; did you see? I hope I get to meet him before then, but you should definitely invite this guy of yours. What’s his name?”
“Diego.”
“And are we keeping it quiet about Diego around the office?”
“No,” I said immediately. “Definitely not.”
That night, I stripped down to nothing before pulling on my thinnest, oldest pair of gray sweats.
Kyle had confirmed the gray sweats thing for me after everyone else left, but neither he nor Bettina had suggested I go commando; I was improvising.
I’d been teetering on the edge of a semi all damn day thanks to Diego, so even getting ready to take a pic for him had me hard.
I tucked my heavy, swollen cock into the sweats and pulled them down real low, to show my hip bones.
Jesus, I used to have a really tight Adonis belt, back when I didn’t appreciate it. Now I was thicker around the middle, to say the least. I was in okay shape and could still bench 275-ish. But that was nothing compared to how I looked in college, when I was still working out and playing regularly.
I hadn’t had time the other night to think twice about my body; I was too busy enjoying Diego’s. But now I was a little disappointed with myself. Especially considering how he’d obviously worked on his look so hard while I’d let mine go.