2. Graham
2
GRAHAM
A n over-planner by nature, I tried to factor in every eventuality for tonight. Up to and including a sudden inability to speak. I wrote my wishes down on index cards just in case. The first of which says, Please undress . The second says, Lie back on the chaise.
I’ve built tonight up in my head as make or break. There’s a part of me that wonders—even hopes—that being with a man will make me braver. That I’ll be able to end the sham with Avery, come out to my parents, run the senate campaign I really want to run, or tell my father I’m not interested at all in politics and want to go back to practicing law.
But my history of standing up to my parents consists primarily of refusing to eat lamb or veal. I saw how they treated my sister before they kicked her out. When she left, they also cut her off. After that, her life didn’t turn out so great. She’s now an alcoholic with two kids from different fathers, working as a bartender in some fisherman’s village in Maine. She lives in a crappy apartment, drives a piece of shit car, and derives all her joy from hooking up with dudes in the bands who play at her bar on weekends. At least her tubes are tied. Also a sin, apparently .
She’s got balls though, so there are a few things to admire about Theresa. Plus, she doesn’t judge me. She’s the only person in my life who knows I’m not straight. It was even her idea for me to marry Avery, which should end up working out—if I can get this whole gay thing out of my system once and for all.
I need to know what it feels like. What I’m missing. What I’ll be missing in order to be the Lawther’s good Catholic son for the foreseeable future.
Silas is one of the most attractive men I’ve ever laid eyes on. His pictures did him justice, but his presence only adds to the effect. With thick, dark hair and dark eyes, sculpted cheekbones and lips that look like they were created with AI to be perfect, I can only imagine what lurks beneath his suit to be discovered. If he’s a personal trainer, I bet it shows.
Saliva gathers in my cheeks, and I swallow it down, eager— too eager —to see what I’ve been missing. What I’ll never have again after tonight. Already I wonder whether my index cards aren’t enough—whether I didn’t think broadly enough about what I might want— require —to take me through the rest of my lie of a life.
“Would you like me to undress?” Silas asks, deferential and polite.
I already hinted I want him naked, so I nod.
Setting his wine aside, he stands slowly, taking a few steps away from the table toward the chaise at the foot of the bed.
It’s extremely quiet in here, ten floors up from Manhattan with only my breathing and pounding pulse filling the void. I should have put music on, figured out how to bluetooth my phone to the television and set a mood, but it’s too late. I’m stuck with silence.
Silas begins by loosening his tie before expertly removing his cufflinks. My cock is already a thick, hard presence in my pants. I drink more wine and do my best to keep my eyes on his face, but they roam obsessively. Down his legs, over his hands, averting to the carpet and then back to his loosened tie. He sheds his black jacket leaving a pale, gray button down exposing broad shoulders and arms muscular enough to fill out the sleeves.
Our gazes meet again, his hooded and cautious—like he expects I might put a stop to this any second. I give him a slight nod to signal I intend to see at least this part through.
“How am I doing?” he asks.
“Perfect,” I whisper.
A sexy smirk bends his lips, and he slides off his tie. He places it, along with his jacket, on the chaise. His gaze then drops to my lap. “Remember, this is your time. You can do whatever you want with it.”
Like what? Jerk off to the sight of him undressing?
Although, now that he mentions it…
No. I have to maintain some control. He won’t be the last man I’ll ever be attracted to, and I can’t go around jerking off to every hot guy I pass on the street from now until forever. This is no time to let my base impulses get the best of me. “I understand.”
He begins unbuttoning his shirt deliberately, but not dramatically. The buttons open at a reasonable pace exposing darkly tan, smooth skin and prompting the question from me, “What nationality are you?”
He arches one dark brow as his treasure trail comes into view. “My mother’s half Colombian. Don’t know about my dad, though.”
“Well…nice tan.”
“You say that now. I run shirtless. You’ll see.” With that, he unbuckles his belt.
My visceral reaction to every sensual movement proves I’ve been right about myself all along. I swallow more drool. My cock throbs uselessly against my fly.
Silas removes his shirt, exposing his upper body. Each muscle on his lean torso is perfectly defined—etched. His nipples are dark brown and erect. His arms— fuck —his arms —are big, one muscle group curving into the next. No tattoos or piercings, just plain, tan, olive skin dusted in nearly black hair. Gorgeous .
There’s something intrinsically virile about him. Masculine in that way society expects of men.
“I should hit the gym more often,” I blurt out.
“You look fine to me,” he says.
I take the compliment, whether it can be believed or not. He and I both know he’s being paid for this, but part of what I’m paying for is the fantasy. That this is a real thing I could do. A real person I could be. Though I doubt in any parallel universe I’d ever attract a man like this .
His shoes come off next, which means his pants are about to go. My cock pulses with an aching demand to be touched. I widen my legs instead and lean back in my chair, keeping my arms folded tightly over my chest.
“What kind of guy do you like?” he asks.
“Hm?” His words almost distract me from the fact that he’s unhooking his waistband.
“What draws your eye? Pretty? Rugged? Big? Little? What do you like?”
“This.”
“Hm. That doesn’t answer the question. This is a lot of things. And it can be whatever you need.”
“I like that you’re strong. Not pretty but beautiful…”
“Standard gym bro, then?” he asks.
I laugh. It’s unexpected and comes out sounding nervous and rough. “Is that what you are?”
He shrugs and slides his pants down his thighs along with his belt. Bent over, he takes off his socks, too. When he rises, he’s bare but for black boxer briefs. I have yet to see a tan line, which means he must run in very short shorts.
I only notice he’s not hard because I’m so painfully erect. It doesn’t bother me—I wasn’t expecting him to be turned on by undressing for a stranger .
“Keep going?” he asks.
“Please.” My voice is hoarse.
Hooking his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his shorts, he peels them off his hips and bends again, his hair falling forward as he slides them off his strong legs. When he stands upright, he’s fully naked.
My breath catches in my chest. You’d think I’d never seen a naked guy before, but I’ve been in plenty of locker rooms. There’s a rare occasion where I watch porn. But I’ve never been alone with a naked man—a gay naked man.
“Would you um…” I gesture at the chaise. Nod in its direction. “Lie back?”
Silently, he complies with my request, moving his discarded clothing to the foot of the bed. He considers the chaise, tilting his head side to side before sitting down, propping his back on the arm, and placing one foot on the cushion, the other on the floor. Casual repose? It would look perfectly normal if he were dressed—lewd only because he’s not. His tan line is stark, and it would be funny if he weren’t so damn hot.
Fuck. I give my cock one rub. Just one. Squeezing it hard to try and tame it into something less needful. Silas rests a hand on his thigh and stares at me, no doubt wondering what’s next.
“I just wanna look at you,” I try to explain.
A tiny frown forms a crease between his brows, but he nods.
“For a while anyway.”
“That’s fine. Let me know if you want me to do anything different.”
If I were bolder, I might get up, walk over, get closer and take a better look. And I might still do that at some point. But right now, I’m testing myself.
Am I really gay? Or was that one hot kiss a fluke—one that confused me and made me think something about myself that doesn’t have to be true?
Sure, I’ve never been attracted to a woman—not in a sexual way. And when I get myself off, which is rare, I never think about women either, but I also don’t think about dicks and holes. I think about that one kiss mainly—about how I nearly came in my pants from grinding my cock against Rhett Buckner’s thigh.
I’ve wondered whether I’m sexual at all. It’s not like I’ve struggled with celibacy. I probably could have been a priest if my parents hadn’t pressured me to study law. Although I’m not particularly religious, either.
Tonight, my cock says gay. Definitely gay . I’ve never gotten hard like this for a woman. It’s possible I’m just stunted somehow. Like my sexual awakening was stalled or cowed by fear of what my family, priest, and peers would think.
Am I willing to act on it though? Touch him? Or ask him to touch me?
I don’t know.
“Are you cold?” I ask after a few minutes.
“No.”
His pebbled nipples tell a different story, but I’m sweating, so I’m not sure I want to make it any warmer in here.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Graham?”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you want to touch me?”
“That’s what I’m wondering.”
“I see.”
“Has anybody ever wanted to just stare at you before?” I ask.
He grins. “Not quite like this.”
“Oh, good. Maybe you’ll remember me.”
He laughs quietly. “How’d you picture tonight going?”
I pick up my stack of index cards, flipping through them until I find the one after lie back on chaise. Touch his cock. I glance at the organ between his thighs. It’s not massive, but thicker than average and bigger at rest than mine.
Am I ready to touch it?
“What are those?” Silas asks .
Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me? I went to Harvard for Christ’s sake, and I have to write my sexual wishlist on index cards I can’t even manage to keep to myself.
I’m so embarrassed, I can’t think. Instead of denying or obfuscating, I stand, walk over to him and hand him the short stack. He reads the same words I just did and pats the space on the cushion between his thighs. “Have a seat,” he says. “I’d like to discuss this.”
I exhale with relief. He’s taking control. I have a feeling a man like Silas knows exactly what I need.