3. Max
Ihadn’t meant to jerk off to the memory of Dominic’s sister’s hard nipples, but nevertheless, it had happened. I’d gotten one look at Isabella standing like a literal wet dream, chest heaving in her sheer dress, and knew I’d be filing the material for later. Isabella was one of those girls whom other people liked to watch. Not just because she was beautiful, but because she was interesting. I’d only met her once before, well, in person, and now seeing her in my domain did something to my insides.
God, I needed to get laid. And as much as it hurt my heart, and my dick, to say, it shouldn’t be my friend’s sister who breaks my dry spell.
Ithad officially been 117 days since I’d gotten laid. It had been 117 days since my ex, Ana, had decided dating a bartender wouldn’t work for her long-term. We’d been lying in bed at my apartment after having some pretty solid shower sex when she’d broken up with me. Who breaks up with someone less than twenty minutes after they come inside you?
“I guess I didn’t really think the sommelier thing was going to last this long,” she had said. “I thought you’d have gotten a real job by now.” She was lying in between my sheets, her long hair wet on the pillows.
Myhand had stopped making small circles on her shoulder, and my breath caught in my throat. Every word felt like a punch. “It’s a real job, Ana,” I had responded, trying to keep the defensiveness out of my voice.
Irecalled the pride I felt when I had landed the position at the PrismSociety. Dominic hadn’t even hesitated before bringing me on board when I offhandedly mentioned it one night when we were grabbing dinner. His offer had saved me from having to do another shift at Corkbuzz. The experience I was getting in that upscale wine bar was good, but if I had to watch one more person do a line of coke off the stainless steel kitchen table, I would have lost my mind.
Anasat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. “You promised nights together. Instead, I lie for you to my family. Hide where you really work. It’s like I’m the only one making sacrifices.”
Thatwas a thing that Ana did. It’d been a point of contention in our relationship on more than one occasion. She cared a lot about how she presented herself to the world and, therefore, what others took away from that presentation. And if I wasn’t adding to the well-curated version of her life, then I was out.
“You told me you didn’t have a problem with me working at the PrismSociety. You were even at the charity event with me last summer.” I slid out of bed and pulled on some sweats. My skin was still hot from the shower, and I felt heated to my core.
“AndI fully support sex positivity! You just give your money to those causes, Max. You don’t actually work there.” Ana looked at me like I was stupid for not getting it. This is what people like Ana did. When you’re the daughter of an investment banker and successful PR agent, you know how important your image can be to people. It wasn’t solely her fault. She’d grown up with parents who were masters at the art of spin.
Iglanced down at my old worn-out sneakers, peeking from under the bed, the blue plaid sheets my mom had picked up for me at a big box store, the Ikea lamp standing in the corner—all were a silent testament to the two worlds I straddled. In one, I was the “FancyBoy” as my sisters liked to call me, the one who had outgrown my modest upbringing. In the other, I was blue-collar Max, the enigma these people had let into their world, but who clearly didn’t fit in. A luxurious world where even my dreams felt second-rate.
Myvoice was thick with emotion. “I’ve been working there for a year, Ana. Pushing myself for this certification, and you thought I’d just . . . quit?”
Shesighed, the bedsheet still wrapped around her. “I thought you’d see it wasn’t for you. Maybe join my dad in finance or something stable.” Her voice was getting shrill in the way it does when she’s trying to plead her case.
Butthere it was. The expectation. The same one that made my sisters call me FancyBoy and had my mom raise eyebrows at my choice of workplace. ButAna and her circle? To them, I was always playing catch up. No trust fund, no ritzy holiday homes, just ambition and dreams, and a lot of crossing my fingers, hoping it would all work out.
Icaught sight of the cheap, store-bought wine rack, a gift from my mom, standing proudly amidst my collection of expensive wines. A symbol of the balancing act I performed daily between two worlds. WhatAna didn’t fully realize is that training to be an AdvancedSommelier felt stable to me. I was raised by a schoolteacher and transit manager and lived in a small house with five other people. Living in my own apartment, by myself, in Queens felt like I’d won the lottery.
Thiswas the line I walked on a daily basis. My sisters called me FancyBoy because of whom I hung out with, and my mom definitely didn’t understand the club environment I worked in. But with Ana, my friends, and even Dominic, I always felt like I fell short. I didn’t have a trust fund or a vacation home. I didn’t use a car service or get my suits custom-tailored.
ButI wasn’t embarrassed by my dream. I worked my ass off to get as far as I’d gotten. The pass rate of the next phase of my sommelier certification was only 25 percent, so I was already half expecting to fail anyway. But isn’t that the beauty of relationships? You choose to have someone around who supports you even when the odds are stacked against you, even when it feels ridiculous to have the dream and even more ridiculous to think you’ll achieve it.
Iwhispered, more to himself than to Ana, “I thought love was about supporting each other’s dreams, not waiting for them to give it up.” I ran my hands down my face as I let my eyes take in Ana in a whole new light. Her face relaxed and her eyes squinted, revealing she thought I was about to give in. Disagree and commit. Isn’t that what all the relationship coaches tell you to do?
Witha deep sigh, I said what needed to be said. “I’m not ready to give up on this dream. And, honestly, if I did, I don’t think I would give it up for you.” I started picking up her scattered clothes around the room and tossing them all in a bag.
Hermouth fell open as she watched me buzz around the room. She shook her head as if pushing out what I’d said from her memory. She sat up and walked on her knees over to the edge of the bed, letting the sheet fall to the bed. Ana cleared her throat and when she spoke, gone was the shrill tone, and in its place was what I knew to be Ana trying to use sex to get her way.
“Baby, I don’t need to leave now. I can pack my things up over the next few days.” Her skin was still pink from the hot shower, and her nipples hardened from the exposed air. Water droplets from her hair trickled down between her breasts.
Sheplaced her hands on my bare chest and looked up at me with what I called her “BlowJobEyes.” She’d make this face whenever she knew she’d made a mistake. Instead of saying sorry, she’d get on her knees. Now that I think of it, I’venever heard her own up to a mistake. Ana gave a lot of blow jobs.
Andmy treacherous dick knew it. AsAna ran her hands down my sides, it sprang to attention in my pants. She slipped her hand under the waistband of my sweats and gripped me, slowly pumping me back to life.
Evenif Ana and I hadn’t had the perfect or most supportive relationship, we had always been good at this. We could always come back together after a fight or misunderstanding and work out the details as our bodies entangled. It was our love language. And it seemed like it was our way of saying goodbye also.
Andso, even though I’d be sleeping on the couch tonight and making Ana leave in the morning, I let her drag my pants down to the floor. I let her put her warm mouth on the head of my cock. And she let me grip her hair a little tighter than usual as I reached for her head and fucked her face. We both knew this would be the last time.
Andthat moment, when I had come down Ana’s throat, was the last time I’d had sex. So it shouldn’t have surprised me that tonight, standing in the shower after seeing Isabella in person for the first time in five years made me grip my own cock and come at the thought of putting those nipples in my mouth.
ButI will get it out of my system tonight. Isabella and I had training together tomorrow, followed by her first shift, and then shifts together every Tuesday–Saturday night. I would need to get myself together if I expected to work in such a sexually charged environment with her. I didn’t know Isabella’s type, but it certainly wasn’t a bartender or wannabe sommelier who couldn’t figure out how to get laid in the last three months.
Notthat I should be worried at all about what kind of men Isabella loved.
Notthat someone like Isabella would even spare me a second glance. As if aware of the energy she brought to a room, she had a quiet confidence that didn’t require her to be loud or critique other people’s dreams. And even though I had spotted a little bit of a lost look in her eyes, I didn’t expect it to last long. Isabella had always been someone who was able to get exactly what she wanted.
Sowhen I needed to, I would take it out on my cock, but at work, I would remain focused. There was no way I was going to let another little rich girl back into my world.
AsI strode into the PrismSociety the next day, earlier than usual, I deliberately pushed all thoughts of Isabella to the recesses of my mind. There were more pressing matters to attend to, like the special wine shipment I was expecting that morning for a high-end client.
Ichecked my watch, the minute hand ticking away anxiously. The shipment was late, which was odd given the punctuality of the supplier. I waited another twenty minutes before making a call, only to be informed that due to unforeseen circumstances, the delivery wouldn’t be coming in at all.
Ifelt a mix of frustration and panic. I had a special tasting this evening for one of our most discerning clients, and the wines selected were specific to their palate. I quickly texted Dom an update on the situation.
Ithen spent the next couple of hours on the phone, calling up different retailers to replenish the stock, scribbling notes, and trying to find a brand-new partner for wine and liquor.
Myfingers drummed nervously on the bar’s polished surface. I ran through a mental list of available suppliers, but the odds of finding the exact high-end wine I needed in such a short amount of time seemed slim. This wasn’t just any client—these were influential figures in the art community, connoisseurs who had the kind of pull that could either elevate the PrismSociety’s reputation or dent it significantly.
Ifelt the weight of the evening’s responsibility on my shoulders. One misstep could set the club back in terms of reputation and future collaborations. I took a deep breath and tried another number.
“Hey, Gerald. It’sMax from the PrismSociety. I know it’s short notice, but I need . . .”
Eachcall resulted in the same response: apologies, explanations, but ultimately, no wine. As the clock ticked, my anxiety multiplied. I felt cornered. For all my connections and knowledge, I was drawing a blank on how to pull this off.
Iclosed my eyes momentarily, trying to collect my thoughts. I remembered an old contact who’d once mentioned a private collection of rare wines. It was a long shot, but at this point, any shot was worth taking.
Afteranother round of calls leading to more dead ends, beads of perspiration formed on my brow. The atmospheric lighting of the bar seemed suddenly oppressive, the weight of the evening’s expectations bearing down on me. With a frustrated sigh, I removed my tie, then unbuttoned my shirt, shedding it along with my tight undershirt so I didn’t get them dusty. Maybe, just maybe, there might be something in our own collection I had overlooked.
Iglanced upward. ThePrismSociety had a few high-end bottles tucked away on the higher shelves, reserved for special occasions or specific clientele. Climbing the ladder might be symbolic, I mused, of the uphill battle I was currently facing.
Witha deep breath, I began to ascend, hoping against hope I’d find a bottle, or even a combination of bottles, that would save the evening.