Chapter 7
7
D C summers weren’t my favorite. They were hot, humid, and overrun with tourists. I’d been lucky to escape nearly every year I’d lived in the city before the worst of the sweltering heat set in. My work had taken me to Australia, New Zealand, Japan, and… one fateful summer a couple of years ago, to Indonesia. I loved discovery in travel and enjoyed getting away from the crowds of tourists at home. But now… I had a reason to stay.
I reassigned a trip to Alaska to one of the assistant directors. The purpose was to scout location shoots with a couple of high profile periodicals. I’d been looking forward to going since it had first been mentioned in late spring when I’d returned from South America. I figured I’d be in DC through June and off again for at least six weeks. Except I didn’t want to go now. Truthfully, I was a bit of a hero for passing the trip off by claiming I was needed in the office. But the real reason would have been obvious to anyone paying attention.
The raven-haired beauty with the rebellious soul of a beatnik poet captivated me. Utterly. I wanted to hold him at arm’s length and save myself from certain heartache, but… I couldn’t. He was under my skin in every conceivable way.
Since the fateful night he’d come home with me from the Pelican Club, we spent a great deal of time together. I would wake up with his head on my heart, threading my fingers through his hair thinking as much as I loved this, tonight I’d tell him I had to work or, hell, alphabetize my collection of ancient jazz records. Anything to avoid this careening sensation. A free-fall to my undoing. And yet, who in their right mind would walk away from this?
A random weekday before Seth weaseled his way into my life went as follows: work out, work, business dinner or quiet night at home, bed, repeat. Granted, my job was colorful. I met interesting people and I loved being involved in high-level decision-making for fashion powerhouse advertisement. But I didn’t love being alone.
Now, I could barely keep up with my life. I juggled stressful phone calls with anxious fashion editors with ridiculous text messages from Seth asking anything from my favorite type of Chinese food to what I thought about Machiavelli. The out-of-context wacky non sequiturs caught me unaware. A series of rapid-fire silly questions might be followed by hours of silence, which was equally disconcerting. My sanity was slipping, and I couldn’t decide how I felt about it.
I was on my third stressful conference call of the morning when my phone vibrated on my desk.
It’s Wednesday
Huh?
“Yes, I understand, Margaret. The copy can be altered, but I honestly think this one is spot-on. It’s edgy and is a perfect reflection of the ad photo.” I glanced back at my cell once I felt I’d made my point.
It’s a great outdoor painting day. Meet me at the river at 5
I listened to the cacophony of voices chiming in on the call before responding to Seth’s text.
Where specifically? I’m not sure I can.
By the bridge. Try
I stared at my phone, waiting for more information. He left no punctuation on his message, though that wasn’t unusual. In fact, he’d made fun of me a few times for being a grammar fanatic even in text form. I read his message a few times, thinking he was awfully presumptuous. To leave my office at five was unheard of. I’d have to leave at four-thirty to traverse downtown traffic to get to the far end of Georgetown.
Not acceptable.
I typed a quick reply, but didn’t press Send. I set my cell aside and decided to let it go for now. My attention was required on the call and I was soon distracted by the usual flux of emergencies ranging from soothing egos to finding a creative way to breathe life into photos of sullen-faced anemic models.
I glanced at his message and at my unsent reply a few times throughout the day, wondering why he couldn’t go about “dating” in a more conventional manner. Seth wasn’t the type you asked for dinner to a five-star restaurant, arranging a time and place to meet a few days in advance.
He appreciated simple fare over extravagance. He’d certainly been exposed to an opulent lifestyle while modeling in Europe, so it wasn’t a matter of ignorance. He simply didn’t care for it. He had a funny way of straddling the line between the finer things in life with an appreciation for basic pleasures. He liked music, art, and literature, but could happily get lost in video games and watching mindless television too.
The time we spent together was amazing, but erratic and difficult for me to quantify. Seth was flighty and given to whims of fancy. I would suggest dinner and he’d bring over ingredients to make a vegetable orzo. Or he’d tell me about a movie he loved that I hadn’t seen and would go on about how it was an absolute must that I drop everything and see it immediately. Then he’d show up at my office, flirt shamelessly with my poor besotted secretary until I agreed I was ready to leave for the day, only to be whisked off to see the movie he’d mentioned mere hours ago. I couldn’t keep up.
So I went along, vowing to keep my head above water and enjoy what was certainly the best sex I’d experienced in eons.
Seth was carefree, spontaneous, and insatiable. I may have been cautious, but I wasn’t a complete idiot. I wasn’t about to put the brakes on a younger lover with a voracious appetite because it was wiser to move slowly. There was no point. My cock gave me away every time.
My best intention to be a gentleman was thrown aside the second he pressed his lithe body against mine. We could be debating some minor piece of current news one moment, and the next I’d somehow end up on my knees, driving into him relentlessly, trying to keep up with his constant pleas to fuck him harder. I thought he’d want to top occasionally since he’d done so the first time we were together at the hotel, but he didn’t seem interested. My only wish was that the niggling fear of uncertainty would subside so I could truly enjoy being with him.
Because I was led by some inexplicable inner force encouraging me to dive headfirst into heartache, I left my office at four-thirty that Wednesday, telling my astonished secretary I’d check in later. Maybe.
“O-kay. Are you feeling sick?” Kerri’s pretty face was scrunched in a funny look of concern and mild astonishment.
“No, I’m well. I… I’ll see you tomorrow.” I smiled briefly and ducked out the door before she could ask any further questions, like “are you sane?” That one I would have had a harder time answering truthfully.
The July heat was brutal. Even in the late afternoon. I tossed my lightweight suit coat into the backseat, pulled off my tie, and unbuttoned my shirt before starting my journey. I didn’t bother texting or even calling Seth to let him know I was on my way. If I were foolish enough to go along with his spur-of-the-moment “ideas,” I deserved whatever met me on the other side.
“You’re late.”
“Excuse me?” I bent to kiss his temple in greeting and willed my racing heart to beat normally.
Seth was sitting on a beach chair in the grass with a large sketchbook balanced on his knee and colored pencils strewn at his bare feet on a red and white checkered blanket. He was dressed in dark shorts and a paint-stained white T-shirt with his longish hair tied neatly at his nape. He looked, if possible, more striking than ever with his chiseled features and bright blue eyes. I swallowed hard and turned my gaze to his drawing.
“What do you have there?”
“I have here the Key Bridge in July. What do you think?”
The drawing was really more a riot of color than a true sketch. Brilliant blues and reds on a horizontal plane. “Uh.”
Seth threw his head back and laughed. The sound was joyous and infectious. I chuckled along, though I had no idea what the joke was.
“It’s a rough sketch. I’m trying to capture the movement.” He smiled sweetly, then shifted to sit on the blanket and directed me to take his chair.
“Don’t worry. I’ll sit on the bl?—”
“Sacrilege! Zegna on a nasty old picnic blanket? Never! I’ve spent too much time being paid to wear haute couture to allow you to ruin yours sitting on the ground. Besides, you’ve been working all day while I’ve been… well, working too, but not in an office.”
“Have you been here all afternoon?”
“I had a modeling job this morning, then I went to my studio, but it was too hot and I needed to be outside, ya know? Are you hungry? I brought a picnic. And what do you think of my drawing? You never said.”
“I don’t think I’m understanding more than half of what you’re saying, but I don’t think it’s a language barrier. You’re speaking too quickly.” I unbuttoned my shirtsleeves and folded them around my elbow before glancing down at him from my low perch on the beach chair.
“Want to take your shoes and socks off? You’ll be more comfortable.”
“And you’re ignoring me. It makes me nutty.”
He launched into another round of laughter before sobering. He set his sketchpad and pencils beside himself and crawled into the space between my open thighs like a cat burrowing for attention. I gave into temptation and cradled his head before bending to kiss his luscious mouth. He tasted like sunshine. I brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear, thinking how damn lovely he was. Confusing perhaps, but refreshing too.
“Nutty, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You would.”
“Don’t get cranky. I brought wine, cheese, and crackers and some gourmet sandwiches to share when you’re ready for real food. Red or white?”
“White, please.”
“It’s a Chardonnay. A good one. I chilled it before I came down here, but I don’t know if?—”
“What are you about this time? Explain.”
“I’m….” He ducked his head to work the corkscrew, but I could have sworn he blushed. I was more curious than ever.
“Go on.”
“It’s no big deal. I wanted to come down here and when you didn’t say no, I figured I’d make it into a… you know….”
“Into a what?”
His forehead was wrinkled in frustration, but he didn’t look up at me again until he’d poured my wine into a red plastic cup and handed it over with a smug grin.
“A sort of date.”
I bit my bottom lip hard in an effort not to overwhelm him with the full magnitude of my smile. I was touched. I took the wine and waited until he’d poured himself one before raising the cup in a toast.
“Thank you. Cheers.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So you’ve been here for a while, then?”
“Nah, only thirty minutes. I had my buddy drop me off. I told you five and then set my watch forward so I wouldn’t be late. It’s nice down here, huh?”
“It is,” I agreed, taking a sip. I wanted to study him for clues, but I didn’t know what to look for, so I turned my attention to the rows of colorful kayaks lined up along the river’s edge. “Tell me about your drawing. I don’t know why, but I visualized you standing at an easel with a smock and palette, creating a new masterpiece.”
“Not my style. I don’t do any plein air painting. I usually sketch, then work it out in my studio.”
“How do you use the colored pencils?”
“I map out where I want color, how strong it should be, and where to add texture. I didn’t get much done. I was hoping you’d show up and inspire me. Now I can title the piece ‘The Key Bridge in July with Paul.’”
He flashed a wide, brilliant grin over his shoulder, then leaned back against my knee before setting his red cup aside and picking up his sketch. I purposefully ignored the bit about me offering inspiration, but I was curious about the rest.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t come?”
“You didn’t answer my text, so I wasn’t sure.”
“I wasn’t either,” I admitted, glancing at the glittering effect of the sun’s reflection on the Potomac. “I’m sorry. I should have called. I… I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t change your mind or?—”
“Hey. It’s cool. I’m a flake. Why bother? I’m just glad you’re here.” He picked up his pencil and got to work with his head cocked in sudden concentration. I let the silence stretch, deciding it was best to let it be. But as I turned his words over in my head, I couldn’t let it go.
“You are a flake.”
“Thank you or fuck you. Take your pick.” Seth sat up, but didn’t glance at me. He kept his gaze on his paper.
“You do it on purpose, I think. It’s a defense mechanism, isn’t it?”
“Definitely fuck you.”
I snickered at his deadpan delivery as I smoothed my hand over his head, reveling in the feel of his heat and smell. I loved having him near me like this, leaning on me as he worked.
The river was pretty in the summertime with the countless brightly colored boats dotting the water and the shoreline. The skies were blue. The sunlight was at a perfect position, casting a golden glow over the trees behind us and over the impressive bridge to our left. Sipping good Chardonnay with Seth so close was heaven. I was suddenly very glad I’d come, though a bit chagrined I may have hurt his feelings.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings.”
Seth chuckled. “It takes a little more than an honest observation to hurt my feelings. I get… caught up sometimes and forget where I’m supposed to be. Like a flaky artist, I s’pose. I don’t really know if it’s a defense mechanism, but who knows? Everybody has something. What’s yours?”
“Hmm. I can be a little….” I shrugged and looked out at the horizon.
“Snobby?”
“Perhaps. I don’t mean to be, but yes. Every once in a while I catch myself putting up an invisible wall and?—”
“The ‘don’t fuck with me wall,’ huh? I’ve seen it. I think I’ve actually drawn it a couple times. Let me see.” He picked up another notebook lying nearby and turned a few pages before handing it to me. “I use this other sketchpad when I want to draw a real likeness.”
I set my cup on the blanket before taking the sketchpad. Instinctively I knew this was important. My stomach was strangely alight with butterflies when I glanced at the first page. It was a drawing of me on the train with the reflection of the window giving a hint at my companion. I turned the page.
The next was me sitting in a chair, cradling a cocktail as I leaned forward in earnest conversation. It was clearly from the night he came to my hotel room in Baltimore. Bloody hell. I swallowed hard, afraid to look at him. And more afraid to turn the page. I licked my upper lip.
“You don’t like them.” He didn’t sound offended. Only curious.
“No. That’s not it. You’re brilliant. Honestly. I didn’t realize you were so detailed. Your painting is much more expressionistic and?—”
“But you don’t like that I drew you. How come?”
Fuck. A boisterous group of kayakers made a loud whooping noise as they set out on the placid water. I shamelessly used the diversion to consider how to answer Seth without sounding paranoid. Or ridiculous. He stared at me expectantly, no doubt thinking my reaction was melodramatic. I should be flattered, not reduced to theatric silence. I traced his jaw and removed my sunglasses so there would be no barrier between us.
“I’m afraid to be an artist’s muse. I’m sorry. It’s a by-product of my years with a madman.”
“Simon. Hmm.” He sighed deeply, then cocked his head as though he were trying to see an invisible object under a microscope. Something he knew was there but couldn’t quite focus on. “I think I get it… but I don’t like it.”
I set my aviator sunglasses back on my nose. I was going to sound ridiculous, so I may as well use whatever armor was available while I tried to explain myself.
“Muses don’t last. The ones that do usually lead tortured existences where they slowly lose themselves to feed someone else’s ego. I’ve seen it countless times. I saw it with my parents and hell, I lived it with Simon.” I paused in an attempt to gather my thoughts. “I—I’m not suggesting you’re using me and I really don’t want him to invade this… us. I’m simply saying….”
I shook my head in defeat. I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. Ridiculous was too light a word. I’d managed to sound pathetic as well.
“I’m not using you.”
“I know. Seth, I—I’m not sure what we’re doing, but I like it. I like you. True, you’re flaky and unconventional, but you’re oddly charming too. I’m drawn to you. I tell myself over and over, this isn’t a good idea, but… here I am.” I huffed humorlessly and glanced away for a moment to gather my thoughts. “I’m thirty-five. I can’t help thinking about boring things like settling down and building a life with someone. Things I doubt even cross your mind at twenty-four. I’m afraid to get in too deep, but then I realize I’m desperately out of touch, because I’m already treading water. Does that… does that make any sense?”
“Sure. You’re old and want to settle down with a boring doctor or maybe a lawyer, but you’ll fuck around with me until he shows up as long as I stay away from using words like ‘muse.’ Did I get that right?”
“You are a bloody nuisance.” I chuckled, leaning forward to kiss him roughly. He responded by shifting to sit up on his knees. He raked his fingers through my hair and angled his mouth to deepen the connection. My heart did a funny flip, a perfect counterbalance to the plummeting sensation I’d felt earlier. With it came a strong surge of affection. I pulled away gently to stare into Seth’s expressive eyes.
“Hey, I spend a lot of time daydreaming. I draw to capture moments or memories that inspire me so I don’t leave out important details when I get to my studio. I drew a picture of that kid….” He sifted through the sketchbook and handed it over with a funny grin. “Remember the one with the orange fingers from the coffee shop? He made me laugh. And so did you. You were so freaked-out. I drew the one of you on the train ’cause you were so pissy and part of me couldn’t blame you, but another part of me was fascinated by your poise. You made me curious. I could go on, but what I’m trying to say is I saw orange and I laughed. Somehow it will go into my work. I saw a hot, cranky dude on a train who wanted nothing to do with me and I saw blue and gray and inspiration and anger and challenge and….”
Seth stared into the distance for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. He quirked his generous mouth into a provocative grin and turned to kiss me softly. He didn’t pull away immediately. I savored the feel of his breath on my lips. The sweet taste of Chardonnay, warm sunlight, and something uniquely Seth.
“I like being around you. I get… buzzy sometimes, where I can’t concentrate and I get easily frustrated. But then I call you or text you and you respond with some oh-so-proper comment and I feel… grounded. In touch. I get that I’m not who you want to spend the rest of your life with. I’m cool with living in the moment. I’m actually kind of a genius at it.” He scoffed with a self-deprecating shrug. “What if we try to do it together for a while?”
I was rendered speechless. I opened and closed my mouth like a codfish. Once again, he’d shocked the hell out of me. There was a raw quality to his ineloquent speech that was… touching and sweet.
“Live in the moment?”
Seth smiled wickedly. He slid his hand over my crotch and squeezed as he leaned in to bite my stubbled chin, then soothed the skin by licking a path along my jaw.
“Let’s go someplace where we can live in the moment without clothes. What do ya say?”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed his arm when he sat back to reach for the picnic basket. “Wait. I—I’m not looking for a doctor or a lawyer. I’m simply a realist who doesn’t want his heart chopped to bits. You’re daft. Absolutely mad sometimes, but I don’t want to be anywhere else either. So yes, let’s….”
“It’s a bad sign when the ad guy can’t finish a sentence,” he commented smugly. “Don’t make it harder than it is, Paul. We’re cool until one of us says we’re over it.”
“I’m not sure I’d put it quite like that, but?—”
“Concentrate on now. I think now would be a great time to go back to your place… or mine….” He bit my bottom lip, then licked the swollen flesh before continuing, “And fuck.
“You are going to be the death of me,” I whispered.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Our riverside conversation was the beginning of a new chapter. Airing my fears enabled me to let go and stop worrying about things beyond my control. I could simply enjoy the perks of having a gorgeous younger man in my bed who made me laugh as often as he aggravated me. We both knew where we stood, and for now it was perfect.
Or mostly perfect.
“I brought my Xbox,” he announced with a mischievous grin. “What do you want to play first? Madden or NBA?”
I gave him a blank stare as I tried to make sense of his words and coolly took in his ensemble. He wore a black hoodie and carried a satchel across his body and a helmet in his left hand. The combination was odd, but very Seth. Modern sophisticate meets rebel punk.
“You can’t come in,” I replied haughtily, closing the front door in his face.
He knocked again on cue. I opened it halfway and narrowed my eyes suspiciously.
“I’ll buy Chinese,” he sang playfully.
I huffed to indicate I wasn’t impressed. “I can buy my own Chinese, thank you very much.”
He set his hand on the door before I closed it a second time. “Yeah, but it’s way more fun to eat it naked in bed after a blow job. Unless you’re more limber than I know, I don’t think you can pull all that off by yourself. You need me.”
“For the blow job?”
“Yep.”
“Hmph. All right. You can come in. Chinese food and a blow job or three. But no video games.”
I stepped aside to let him pass, curling an arm around his slim waist and kissing his mouth briefly before closing the door.
“Come on, Daddy. Please!” He stomped his foot and scrunched his face into a childish pout.
“You’re an idiot. Don’t call me that. I know what you’re up to, but I’m immune to your taunting. The answer is still no, but feel free to place a double order of the chicken fried rice and don’t forget egg rolls. Wine?”
Seth heaved a dramatic sigh as he set his bag and helmet aside. “Yes. Red, please.”
I kissed him again before heading toward the kitchen to take care of the wine. When I returned a few minutes later, Seth was pulling a game console and cables from his bag. He set a black box on the designer distressed coffee table and was about to attach a cable to the flat screen television when I coughed loudly to alert him he’d been caught red-handed.
He grinned widely. “Hey.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m changing your mind.”
“My mind cannot be changed. Did you order the food?”
“Yep. Take a seat and be prepared to get your ass kic—I mean, to have fun.”
“Seth. That’s a very expensive tel?—”
“Relax. I’m not gonna break it.” He brushed his hair behind his ear as he attached a cable to the flat screen. He went back to his bag, pulled out two wireless controllers, and held one out to me.
I rolled my eyes as I moved past him to set the wineglasses on the coffee table before taking a seat in the corner of the sofa. I propped a pillow under my right arm and made a show of picking up a magazine from the end table before reaching for my wine. It was Friday night and I was exhausted. I’d been glad Seth had suggested a quiet night in with takeout food.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
He wasn’t easy to ignore and he was relentless. And tenacious. I took a healthy sip of wine and did my best to tear my gaze from the exposed skin of his lower back. He’d taken his sweatshirt off and was wearing a snug-fitted dark tee that rode enticingly up his back when he bent over to pick up the video game box.
“Okay, we’re in business. I’m going to set up our teams. Who do you want to be?”
I lifted my eyes to give him a scornful look before glancing down to focus on the impossibly pristine home featured in an architectural magazine. No one lived like that and still had a heartbeat, I mused, turning the page.
“’Cause I’m a nice guy, I’ll give you the Patriots. Try not to kill their record in a single blow. I’ll be the Seahawks. Here’s how this goes. Just the basics. Your QB is Tom Brady. He’s accurate and has a powerful throw. His favorite target is?—”
“I think our food is here.” I tilted my head toward the door, indicating he should answer it when the bell chimed.
Seth gave me a perturbed stare before gamely setting his controller down and heading for the door. I heard soft voices nearby, but pointedly ignored him until he returned with the takeout.
“I’ll grab a couple plates and forks, your highness. Need anything else?”
“Napkins,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face when he turned with an exaggerated huff toward the kitchen.
He returned with the dishes and sat on the edge of the sofa, carefully divvying out a portion of the incredible smelling takeout. He handed me a plate piled high with chicken fried rice, two egg rolls, and something I didn’t recognize.
“What’s this?”
“You’re welcome. Geesh, what happened to those posh manners?” He shook his head in mock disbelief then glanced at my plate. “That is Ma Po tofu. Try it, you’ll like it.”
“I don’t—here… take some. You gave me too much and it’s touching my rice.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Not at all.” I eyed him expectantly when he stared at me blankly.
“Try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll eat it. Back to the game. I’ll explain the rules so?—”
“This is not the evening I had in mind. I thought we’d eat, perhaps watch a movie, and then…. I didn’t plan on slouching in front of the telly with takeout, playing video games.”
“Hmm.” Seth took a bite of chow mein and neatly dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin before turning toward me. “I want to point out that you sound like a brat, but I’m gonna be diplomatic here. Hangin’ out eating Chinese and playing games might not be your first choice, but that’s because you’ve never done it. So let’s make a deal… we’ll give it a try and if you hate it, we’ll watch a movie or whatever you want to do. I think that’s called compromise and I’ve heard it’s a good thing. Sound okay?”
I set my plate on the coffee table and studied Seth’s profile. He may have been the one who walked in wearing a hoodie and carrying video games, but the amused glance he cast my way was fused with a sensual heat that was far from immature. I swallowed hard and nodded, not because I agreed with his plan, but because I wanted to be with him. I wanted to hear his attempt at explaining something I had absolutely no interest in simply to know what was going through his head.
Did he think he’d change my mind? How soon would it take before he realized this was an exercise in futility? Would he be patient or would this be one of those “aha” moments when we finally caught on that our age difference made a bigger difference than we hoped?
“All right. One hour.”
Seth’s wide, radiant grin made my acquiescence worthwhile. I hid my answering smile behind my wineglass and listened with half an ear as he explained things like how to recognize man coverage and to watch out for the safeties.
“You know I don’t understand a word you’re saying, right?”
“It’s okay. You’ll see when we play. Ready?”
“I suppose, but I’ll warn you… I hate losing. And since I’m at a terrible disadvantage, the results are a given, which in turn means I will be extremely out of sorts when this experiment is over in forty-five minutes. Proceed at your own risk,” I advised, leaning forward to set my empty plate on the table.
Seth chuckled as he stood to gather our plates and empty containers. He dug in one of the bags and set two fortune cookies aside before turning to the kitchen. “I’m brave. I’ll risk your wrath, and if out of sorts is code for crankier than you already are… I’m mentally prepared to deal.”
I could have sworn he grumbled something about old guys, but I tuned him out and reached for one of the plastic wrapped fortunes.
“Uh uh. Put it down.”
“Excuse me?”
“No fortune till after we play. Alrighty….” He sat next to me so our shoulders brushed, and gave me a wicked grin as he pushed the extra controller into my hands. “Now you’re the quarterback. You are leading the play, but once the ball is out of your hands, you have to trust the receiver to do his job so….”
As he babbled on in an excited tone, I experienced another one of those odd out-of-body moments when you’re surprised to find yourself where you are. Yes, this was my home and everything seemed to be in place, but I didn’t recognize myself or my situation.
I looked from the buttons on the handheld controller to the lifelike figures dressed in full American football gear on the large screen across the room. It was a mystery. I could decipher the basic concept—the two teams were battling to score by getting to the other end of the field—but I didn’t understand the “strategy” he was explaining.
Maybe there was no real mystery. After all, Seth was a gorgeous man with a quick mind, and the mere thought of being naked with him made me hard. It was the unscripted bits that didn’t mesh with my lifestyle I had a difficult time understanding.
Like video games on a Friday evening.
My prick wasn’t involved in the equation, so this wasn’t about sex. It was puzzling. Perhaps I was more curious about his motivation. Why was he wasting time with someone eleven years his senior who wasn’t interested in sports or gaming? He could have been at a bar with people his own age. Hanging out with me had to be… boring.
“…it’s better to hit ’em with a regular tackle than?—”
“Why are you here?”
Seth blinked and furrowed his brow. “Geez, I thought it was a hunger thing. You’re grumpier than I thought. I guess I should make an exception and let you eat the fortune cookie now.”
He tossed the wrapped cookie at me and gave me an “I hope that works” look that made me chuckle in spite of myself.
“Answer me. Why aren’t you out with friends at a bar or a club? It’s Friday. I—I wouldn’t be offended if you chose to be with people your own age.”
Silence. He glared at me long enough to make me flinch before reaching for the other fortune cookie and methodically unwrapping it.
“You’re an asshole. Open your fuckin’ fortune.”
“I’m not try?—”
“Really? Believe it or not, Paul, telling me you come by it naturally doesn’t make it better. I’m here because I want to be. I don’t do anything I don’t want to. I’m not programmed to please. I don’t give a shit what people think. I don’t care where they think I should be or who I oughta be with. I thought you kinda got that. If you didn’t want me to come over, you shouldn’t have invited me.”
I watched him crack open the cookie. He set the unread fortune aside and nibbled on one half before glancing at me with an expectant look, no doubt inviting me to stick my other foot in my mouth.
“I didn’t mean it that way and I think you know that.”
“Hmph. Your English sucks, then.”
I huffed a short laugh as I unwrapped the cookie to give my hands something to do while I tried to explain myself.
“I hate it when anyone begins a sentence this way, but… when I was your age, thirty-five sounded old. I suppose I’m… curious. It seems logical you’d want to go to clubs or?—”
“I don’t. And you’re right. That sounded lame. Look….” He shifted, bringing his right knee to rest on the sofa as he turned to face me. “I’m only twenty-four, but I’ve done my share of partying. I was sneaking into clubs when I was sixteen, doing drugs and other shit I had no business doing. I was in a band with my best friend and his folks were total hippies. I got caught kissing him, had the shit beat out of me, and got kicked to the curb while Rand’s parents bought him condoms and told him to practice safe sex. They never cared where he went as long as he came home in one piece. By the time I went to Milan to model, I could party like a rock star. And I did. I told you when you came to the show in Baltimore the after-parties weren’t my scene. I’ve been there, done that. I’m not interested in hangin’ around idiots snorting drugs in grungy bathrooms and drinking their weight in vodka. That isn’t my life anymore. I may not be as boring as you….” He paused to give me a teasing sneer before continuing, “But I keep it simple for a reason. I don’t want to dilute my reality and fuck up my work.
“It’s why I got out of runway modeling. I don’t want to jet from New York to Paris to Milan anymore. It was a rush and I loved it for a while, but I like where I am now. I don’t want to go backward. I love music and playing guitar, but I don’t want to be in a band. I like my day job, but I don’t want to model forever. Going from runways to print ads only is my way of weaning myself from the business. I went from being a sheltered kid to being a reckless young adult with a whack sense of mortality. One extreme to the other. I found my happy medium and yeah, it’s a little unconventional, but I’m not going to apologize or worry about what anyone else thinks anymore.”
Seth chomped into the other half of his fortune cookie with a sardonic expression in place. It was a funny way to say “fuck you” with flare. “If you don’t want me here, that’s another thing. But I don’t think that’s it. I think you’re grouchy and you don’t like not knowing how to do something.” He rolled his eyes derisively and added, “Like play a fucking video game.”
“I apologize. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“Apology accepted,” he said in a patient, paternal tone. “Now what does your fortune say?”
I snorted and shook my head, but decided I probably deserved his censure. I opened the tiny white folded scrap of paper and cleared my throat before reading it aloud.
“The greatest risk is not taking one.”
“Hmm.”
“What does yours say?”
He cleared his throat dramatically and unfolded the fortune like he was handling the much-anticipated final results at an award show.
“It says, ‘Your shoes will make you happy today.’ What the hell? You got Confucius and I got ‘Be happy with your crappy Converse.’ Life is unfair.”
I laughed loudly, throwing my head against the cushions, and impulsively pulled him into my side to give him a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He scowled and tried halfheartedly to shove me away, but I held him close and tilted his chin so he’d look at me.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
He turned to mold his chest to mine and licked at my lips. “Even if I’m a risk?”
I pulled back to study him. His dark lashes, blue eyes, and inscrutable expression. He was a risk. It wasn’t a joke. I could feel the ground slip under my feet every time he was near. I loved that he not only put me in my place for what was probably reverse ageism, but had the grace to do so with humor. I was beginning to realize he wasn’t dangerous because he was a young, quirky nonconformist or the artistic type I’d sworn off years ago.
No, he was dangerous because he was a resilient force with a brilliant mind and a kind soul he did his best to downplay.
“Yes, even though you brought toys I didn’t want to play with, I’m still glad you’re here.”
Seth’s eyes widened. He slid his left leg over my thigh and shifted to straddle my lap. I let out a grunt of surprise, but circled my arms around his waist to keep him where he was.
“I brought the wrong kind, didn’t I? I wasn’t thinking. I should have brought my other toys.”
His husky voice and naughty smirk told me exactly what kind of toys he meant, but I looked up at him with a blank expression as I ran my hands down his sides. “What other toys?”
“Checkers, chess, Monopoly….”
“Hmm mmm.” I slipped my hand under his T-shirt, desperate to feel his skin. He leaned back and tugged his shirt over his head in a swift maneuver, then turned his attention to the row of buttons on mine.
“But I don’t like the regular rules. They get boring fast. It’s fun to make up your own and add incentives.”
“Such as?” I gasped when he pinched my nipples and gyrated his hips, rocking into me suggestively.
“Instead of checker pieces, you can use colored condoms. Every time you lose a piece, you have to grant a sexual favor of your opponent’s choice. Blow job, hand job, or… you can incorporate other things like a butt plug?—”
“Enough,” I said sharply as I dragged his head down to silence him. I plunged my tongue inside his mouth, delighting as he groaned loudly and yanked my hair. I pushed him back to lick his neck and bite one ear. “Let’s go upstairs. I want you.”
“No. Stay here.”
“But—”
“Let’s do it some place we haven’t yet. Over the sofa or the coffee table, I don’t care. Let’s fuck someplace we haven’t yet. We’ll make a list and check it off every time we do it somewhere new. Your office, your car…. Uh. Fuck that’s hot.” He unbuckled and unzipped my khakis so fast my head spun when his warm hand covered my rigid flesh. “I thought about it that night I blew you in your car. Did you?”
He chuckled when I made a guttural noise, and he stroked me with his left hand and worked on unbuttoning his jeans with his right.
“Did you think about pulling over and parking in some dark lot where we could fuck like bunnies in the backseat? I could ride you like I am now.”
“You aren’t riding me. You’re teasing me.”
“I can change that.”
And he did.
Our clothes were strewn across the sofa and the floor and his dirty talk was soon replaced by the sound of our labored breathing. I let him lead. He wanted to sit on my cock and ride me mercilessly while he made up a story about being in my car, fucking at the side of a busy street with people slowing to see what was going on. His smutty tale and his ability to paint a pornographic visual while relentlessly sliding up and down my shaft made it difficult to see straight. I knew I wouldn’t last long.
I flipped him to his back and plowed into him wildly until I was blindsided by an orgasm so powerful I could have sworn my heart stopped. When it resumed beating, I was left trembling and panting for breath. I held him through the aftermath of his release a moment later, tenderly cradling his head and kissing his forehead until the shaking subsided. I figured he’d push me away when my weight overwhelmed him, but he didn’t. He wrapped his arms around my neck and held me closer when I tried to back away.
“Stay. This feels good. Safe.”
Something inside me stilled. I couldn’t decipher his meaning. Safe. He was safe with me or I was safe with him? Why that word? How was this safe? It was reckless and foolhardy. Certainly not safe.
However, it was sublime. And for now, that was enough.