Chapter 1 #2
"Definitely.” I ran a search on my phone.
It took a bit of sifting through information but finally I looked up at him.
"Different sites say different things but Planned Parenthood says we have to test again in 4 to 6 weeks, then after three months.
So at least three separate tests, possibly four if we want to be overzealous and do a six-month check as well. "
He shook his head and whistled low. "Ok, what else goes on the post-'oh, shit' list to do? We covered PEP and PrEP and testing but I know there's gotta be more."
I thought about that for a moment, scratching my beard idly. What else? Well, we needed to be able to exchange test results, which meant it was time to get awkward. More awkward? Awkwarder? My fingers tightened on my beard until I was tugging at it. "Um, we need to be able to contact each other."
"Oh, right, yeah, that'd be good," he agreed with a self-deprecating laugh.
"Let me find my phone." He rolled out of the bed, displaying a luscious, pale ass as he bent over and started hunting through the pile of clothes we'd left on the floor last night.
“Where the hell…” he muttered to himself as he dug.
“I swear I was wearing pants last night.” He held up a tiny pair of blue underwear, then tossed them to the side.
“How do I have these but not my pants?!”
Trying not to laugh at his mumblings, I looked around the room hoping to spot a pair of pants. “Is that them?” I asked, pointing toward the corner of the room opposite where he was looking, where a heap of what looked like denim was laying.
He looked up and followed my pointing. “Yes!” Crossing the room to his pants, he rolled his eyes at me.
“Fucking skinny jeans go wherever they want to go after I manage to finally peel them off.” A phone was produced from somewhere in the pile and he waved it at me.
“Thirteen percent battery. Better trade contact info fast before it turns into a pumpkin.”
I grinned at that. My battery was only doing slightly better. Ah, life with bright-screened smartphones. “Ok so my number is -”
“Wait,” he broke in, then bit his lip and looked up at me through his lashes. “I, um…oh lord, this is embarrassing, but I can’t remember your name.”
Oh thank god, it wasn’t just me who had to do the awkward questioning. I offered him a reassuring smile. “If it makes you feel any better, I can’t remember yours either. I’m not actually positive we even introduced ourselves last night. Not,” I confessed, “one of my shining moments.”
His shoulders relaxed and he grinned. “At least we’re both in the same boat! Ok so my name is Jamison Duschene.”
I typed in his first name, then paused, “D-u-k-e…-a-n-e?” I ventured.
He laughed. “Not even close, sorry. It’s French, so you know it’s fucked up. D-u-s-c-h-e-n-e,” he spelled.
I typed that in. “And your number?”
“201-555-1267.”
I entered that and nodded. “I’m Henry Rodriguez. Most people call me Hen, so you might want to write that, though. 212-555-6823.”
He tapped away at his phone and then looked up and smiled at me. “Nice to meet you, Henry Rodriguez. Though I wish we were exchanging numbers under better circumstances.”
No kidding. “No fucking shit,” I blurted before I could catch myself. “Uh, I mean…”
He laughed. “No, that sounds about right. ‘Fucking shit’ describes most of the past, what, twelve hours or so? pretty well, I’d say. Well, other than the sex. That was pretty damn good,” he added with a smirk. “I even passed out in the wet spot without caring, so you know it was mindblowing.”
I couldn’t hold back a wince. “Damn, I’m sorry, I should’ve cleaned you up before we went to sleep.” I had been a failure all around as a top last night.
“That wasn’t a complaint.” He lifted one hand from the pants he was holding to shove back a hunk of his blond hair that was hanging in his face.
The pants drooped to the side, revealing just a hint of the base of his cock.
Mine perked up with misplaced interest. Not the time, dick!
“Just an observation. So, uh…” Belatedly noticing his exposure, he re-centered the fabric of his pants on his crotch.
“I should, uh.” He tipped his head toward the dresser that sat on one wall.
“I mean, I am not pouring myself back into these things this morning,” he finished awkwardly, giving his jeans a shake in front of him.
Was that a get dressed and get out hint? I wished I was better-versed in hookup culture. I shuffled to the side where I sat in his bed, wishing too that I weren’t still naked. “Um, just let me…” I gestured at my pants where they lay on the floor.
“Did you want to take a shower?” he said so quickly that I almost didn’t catch the words. “I mean,” he went on, making an effort to slow his words down so they were more intelligible, “you’re probably, uh, kinda crusty -” he gestured at my belly “- and I just figured…”
I reflexively gave myself a scratch and winced as my happy trail pulled. “Oh. Yeah. That would be nice, actually, thank you.”
He smiled again, but it looked more polite than pleased this time.
“Sure. Bathroom’s that way.” The pants drooped again as he gestured with one hand toward a door on the opposite wall.
“There should be a clean towel in the closet thingie, and feel free to use my soap and shampoo and stuff. I’m just gonna…
” He bobbed his head and clutched his jeans, then turned away toward the dresser, treating me to another glimpse of that ass as he started digging through a drawer.
I took advantage of his turned back to ogle for only a second, and then skittered my way into the bathroom hoping he didn’t turn back around and catch my hairy ass flying by.
Mine looked nothing like his elegant one.
“I’ll be quick!” I exclaimed as I shut the bathroom door and turned to see a surprisingly opulent bathroom considering how basic the rest of the apartment looked.
The walls were covered in what appeared to be marble, which also made up the countertop in which sat dual sinks.
The shower was wide enough for three people and I spotted a bench seat along one wall of the enclosure.
Nice, very nice. I entertained a momentary fantasy about Jamison joining me in the shower before forcibly pulling myself back to reality and turning on the water.
There was little less sexy than the conversation we’d just had to have; I was lucky the guy was willing to speak to me again, let alone want to sleep with me again, good sex or not.
With a sigh at myself, I climbed into the shower.
***
By the time I came out of the bathroom, I felt calmer about the crisis but more embarrassed about the circumstances that had led to it. It would be a fair while before I stopped calling myself You idiot every time I thought about that condom I’d taken out and then forgotten to put on.
I found Jamison dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and curled up on his bed with his phone attached to the wall by a charging cord. “Hi,” I managed weakly. “Thanks again for the shower.”
He looked up at me with his real, not just polite, smile back on his face.
“No problem. Hey, look, I don’t know if you maybe just want to get the hell out of here and decompress, but I was doing some searching and it looks like the Planned Parenthood on Third takes walk-ins for HIV testing, so I thought maybe you’d want to head over there together and get this first one out of the way? ”
I considered that as I gathered my unfortunately-wrinkled clothes and began to pull them on.
On the one hand, it would be nice to get this first test in the bag that fast, and to have a companion while I did it.
On the other hand, Jamison and I didn’t know each other, and spending post-fuck time together, especially given the circumstances, could get awkward fast if conversation didn’t flow.
“I’ll throw in breakfast?” he offered tentatively, and I realized I’d been standing there in silence for a few seconds too long. He probably thought I was trying to think of a polite way to say fuck, no.
“Oh, I, uh,” I garbled out into the awkward silence. “Breakfast, you say?” There, that was a sentence.
He nodded. “There’s a diner also on Third, or a McDonalds right down this block if you’d rather go for some quick Egg McMuffin joy.”
My mouth watered at the idea of fast food breakfast. It was my guilty pleasure. “Offer me a McGriddle and I’m all yours,” I said before I could overthink things any more than I already was.
“Sold!” He slapped the bed like an auctioneer with a gavel. “McDonalds and some delicious clogged arteries, it is.” He hopped off the bed and sauntered up to me, adjusting his glasses. Was he giving me elevator eyes? I think he was giving me elevator eyes.
I felt myself blush. “Uh, I just need my shoes, but I’m not sure where I left them.” I gestured around the room at the empty floor.
“Probably by the front door with mine,” he suggested absently, already turning and heading out of the bedroom.
Figuring he knew better than me, I followed and was relieved to see my boots indeed sitting cockeyed next to a pair of loafers near the apartment door.
I bent over to pull them on and would have sworn I heard a needy whine, but when I looked up at Jamison he was pulling on his own shoes and not looking at me.
“You ok to walk?” he asked, pulling open the door. “Like I said, the McDonalds is right here but the clinic is a few blocks.” I must have looked confused at the question, because he explained, “My sister has medical stuff that means walking hurts her a lot of the time, so I’m conditioned to ask.”
I nodded, wondering what kind of medical stuff but knowing it wasn’t my business. “I’m good. Walking is no problem.”
“Cool.” And with that, we headed out the door.
***