Today’s assignment was contrasting and comparing the practice of shudo among the warrior class in Japan to the ancient Greek practice of pederasty. Both societies viewed the tradition of an older, more experienced man taking on a younger male apprentice as highly beneficial for both parties. Training was not limited to, but did include, sexual favors between the seasoned warrior and the rookie samurai.
Cole conceded the time-honored practice would raise eyebrows in this day and age, and be against the law in some parts of the world. In ancient times, same-sex love among men was commonplace and more about sexual pleasure than identity. He paused for a minute and pondered the subject of homosexuality, history, and inevitably, his slipup with Sloan the other night.
Granted, he had been high on weed, which could account for his actions. On the other hand, would it explain all the other times he’d thought about sex with another man? His experiences at boarding school had frightened him because he worried that all his father’s fears about him turning out gay would come true. Ken had often ranted to his mother about the perils of living in San Francisco. His main concern was for Cole who might be unduly influenced by the females in the family, or the media, or the openness of homosexuality in general. Cole found it amusing whenever Ken would fly into a rage upon finding one of his sisters’ Barbie dolls in his room or anything pink lying around. It was ironic the boarding school he’d chosen to keep Cole safe, became his introduction into man-on-man sex.
John Butterman had urged Cole to pay attention to his other senses, to rely on instincts as his sight slowly disappeared. With the encroaching darkness had come an amplified sense of hearing, taste, touch, and smell. It had also stimulated a sixth sense, one he’d seldom used in the past—ferreting out the truth, which simmered beneath the surface. Sloan was hiding something and it pulled at Cole. He didn’t understand it and, by its very nature, rebelled against it, but he acknowledged its presence.
He pushed his cursor toward the word shudo and clicked. It took him to a page with graphic drawings from ancient Japanese archives of a warrior having sex with his apprentice. He cursed under his breath and turned toward Sloan who was reading on the sofa. Had he noticed? Sloan didn’t take his eyes off his book, oblivious to Cole’s agitation. Like a moth to flames, Cole focused on the image in front of him and felt himself getting aroused. He squirmed in his seat while his cock took on a life of its own. One frame showed a younger man performing fellatio on a warrior in full military attire. His lower garment was pushed aside, his legs spread, and his enormous cock jutted out from an unruly patch of black hair. There was a look of sheer ecstasy on the Samurai’s face while the student’s serpentine tongue licked the exaggerated phallus. Another drawing was of the same male leaning over a bench, pulling his ass cheeks apart as the warrior prepared to mount.
Cole’s heartbeat pulsed in his groin and his breathing grew shallow as he reacted to the stimuli. He reached over to pick up the glass of water he had nearby, and his hand shook a little, causing the glass to slip and fall on his keyboard with a crash.
“Motherfucker!”
“What happened?” Sloan asked from his side of the room. Seeing the problem, he jumped to attention and moved over to Cole’s desk to help.
“I dropped my fucking glass and now everything’s wet,” Cole whined in despair. “I think I ruined my keyboard.”
“Scoot over,” Sloan ordered. “Let me take a look.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I know what the fuck to do.”
“Oh.”
Sloan unplugged the keyboard and turned it over, allowing the liquid and glass to fall on the floor. He reached for the can of compressed air on the desk and blew out any remaining moisture. “Do you have a handheld vacuum?”
“Of course.”
“Go and get it,” Sloan ordered.
Cole headed to the utility closet in the kitchen and reached for the Dustbuster. He grabbed a roll of paper towels next and returned to the living room. He handed everything over and watched Sloan clean up the mess, picking out tiny shards of glass embedded in the keyboard.
When the worst of it was over, Sloan glanced at the screen, frozen with pictures of men in sexual positions. He turned to Cole and grinned. “What is this? Japanese porn?”
“If you must know, it’s part of my assignment.”
“Sexology 101?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter and back on task,” Cole spat out.
“For one thing, your screen is frozen. I have to make sure the keyboard is dry before I use it to restart your system. Meanwhile, I might as well enjoy his cock.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Says the staunch hypocrite, but that’s neither here nor there. Why the fuck is everything about your system supersized? Are you too vain to wear glasses?”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“I’d end up with a migraine if I had to stare at this font size all day. You should reconsider and wear the damn glasses, then again, you probably don’t want to look like a geek.”
“Fuck you, Sloan.”
“You wish.”
Cole would have given anything to punch Sloan in the mouth, but took a huge breath instead. “Did I ruin it?”
“No. I’ve cleared out most of the glass and water,” Sloan replied. After wiping off the desk, he attached the keyboard and, fingers flying across the keys, tapped in commands so the system rebooted and all was well.
“There you go.” Sloan turned to Cole. “You’re all set.”
“Thank you,” Cole said, grateful for the help.
“You’re welcome.” Sloan stood to make room for Cole and brushed against him inadvertently.
Cole could smell Sloan, he was so close. He could feel the sexual tension as they reacted to each other’s proximity. Blood rushed to his cheeks and the room became unbearably warm.
Cole’s cheeks were bright red, turning his fawn complexion into a study in crimson. His eyes were dilated and his lips were plump and inviting. I’d vowed to keep my distance and not let him affect me, but it was easier said than done. I would have given my left nut for another taste; instead, I backed away from him.
I went back to the sofa, picked up the book I was reading, and headed toward my bedroom. I didn’t want to be around him in case I did something really dumb like jump his bones. Why the fuck did I have this thing for him? I was drawn to him like flies to shit. It was pathetic.
I felt my boner pressing hard against my thigh, making the simple act of walking ungraceful and difficult. Fortunately, Cole had turned back to his computer screen and didn’t see me leave the room. I shut and locked my bedroom door and threw myself on the bed, turning on my playlist. The music came through loud and clear, thanks to the amazing earpods—made in Japan, no doubt. My world had shifted to everything Japanese suddenly, and I squeezed my groin, willing my cock to behave. This was an impossible task with Cole on my mind front and center.
Physically, he was everything I was looking for in a guy. His body wasn’t some nebulous thing I had imagined. I knew what was under his tight pants and T-shirt. I remembered his smell and the silky smoothness of his cock, the sounds he made when I twirled my tongue around the rosy head, lapping up the drops of moisture. I reached for my zipper and released my trapped boner. I was pulsing with need, and I came after a few strokes. Spunk flowed over my hands as I lay there imagining myself coming all over Cole’s face. The image was so vivid I had to stifle my moan. I could hear him sighing in my ear, urging me on while making those tiny grunting sounds that signaled his pleasure. I turned over and pressed my face into the pillow while I humped the mattress, finishing off the fantasy as I pretended I was rubbing against Cole’s fine ass.
I must have dozed and awoke to the sound of my phone ringing incessantly. I didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Sloan. It’s Etienne.”
“Hey, Tin. What’s up?”
“I’m going off to a phot
o shoot. Do you want to come?”
“Where?”
“I’m not sure. Someplace downtown. I’m meeting the photographer at the agency and going from there.”
“Okay, but meet me at the Starbucks near my apartment. I need a double shot to get going.”
“No problem.”
I got up and noted the state of my undress. My cock was hanging outside my pants, the dried spunk a reminder of my earlier indulgence. I vowed to get laid in the next day or so. Hopefully, Tin or one of his friends could help take my mind off the untouchable man in the other room.
Chapter 11
The photo session was in Grand Central Station of all places. They were modeling Gucci luggage, using the trains as backdrop. Etienne wore a three-piece suit, complete with topcoat, fedora, and was surrounded by the designer’s suitcases in every shape imaginable. He looked damn good in my opinion. The photographer was a bitchy slave driver who knew exactly what he wanted, demanding complete dedication from everyone on his staff. It was hard work, and my respect for models rose significantly. It took a lot of effort to achieve the oh-so-casually-beautiful look gracing the front pages of Vogue and Elle.
After two hours of mind-numbing boredom, I was firmly convinced I couldn’t model. For one thing, I wasn’t vain enough, and for another, I couldn’t stand the people on the sidelines, gawking. Etienne, on the other hand, soaked up the adulation. Why he was going to Pratt was a mystery until he told me his father had insisted. I sympathized completely.
It was almost six in the evening by the time they wrapped up. I was ready for some food and possibly a private party. After this morning, I was desperate to take on anyone so long as they didn’t look like Cole. I had to get his taste out of my mouth, and the easiest way was to partake at someone else’s table. I was hoping to meet some of the models, because I liked having Etienne as a friend and didn’t want to muddy our relationship with a round of meaningless sex.
“Okay, Mr. Beautiful. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” I grabbed his hand and headed for the exit.
“Wait a minute, Sloan.” Etienne held back. “What did you think? Is this something you might possibly do?”
“Hell no.”
“Max thinks you have the perfect face for photos.”
“Thanks a fucking lot, but I’m not interested. Who’s Max?”
“The photographer, silly.”
“Oh.” I turned and caught Max observing our exchange. He gave me the raised eyebrow, probably expecting me to jump at the offer. I shrugged my shoulders and mouthed, sorry.
His mouth dropped open, apparently shocked by my response. I guess no one in their right mind would refuse a chance like this, but I really wasn’t interested. I started walking away and he caught up to me, tapping me on the shoulder. “Are you for real?”
“Of course I’m for real,” I replied sassily, surprised he cared to ask.
“How could you possibly say no to me?”
“Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I have to strike a pose,” I said, doing my best imitation of Madonna.
He laughed. “What’s your name?”
“Sloan Driscoll. Why?”
“I like you.”
Confident much? I was disarmed by his grin, and of course, hearing him say he liked me was always a good icebreaker. He had a nice body, which he showed off in the wife beater and tight jeans, and a full beard cut close to his skin. He reminded me of Freddie Mercury, minus the teeth.
“You like Queen?” I asked suddenly.
“Do I remind you of Freddie?” he asked playfully.
“I guess I’m not the first one who’s noticed the resemblance.”
He nodded. “I adore Queen.”
“Cool.” Anyone who liked my favorite band had to be one of the good guys.
“Listen,” Max said, stepping forward and reaching for my arm, “do you want to grab a beer or something?”
“Or something sounds good.”
Cole had spent the better part of his afternoon with Dr. Butterman. John had done his research on guide dogs as Cole had requested. He had several brochures on his desk in large print and in Braille.
“How does this work, John? Do they bring the dog to me all trained?”
“No. In the case of Seeing Eye dogs, you have to go to Morristown, New Jersey, and spend time training on their campus. They won’t release a dog unless they are confident you are just as comfortable as your pet. You have to learn how to care for the animal, give him the right signals, and become a solid working unit. It’s a marriage of sorts and very rewarding when it works.”
“That’s a big commitment, John. I’d have to wait until I graduate.”
“How much longer?”
“About four more months.”
“In the meantime, you should start making plans. It’s like bringing a new baby into the house, Cole. Everything has to be just right.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Things are a little different now that I have a roommate.”
“I didn’t know you had a roommate; when did this happen?”
Cole told him about Sloan, leaving out the one part he really should have talked about. He just couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
“I’m sure he will be willing to help with the dog. They’re pretty hard to resist.”
“We’ll see,” Cole replied. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost five o’clock. Were you going to take the subway back?”
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Why don’t you? We did fine the other day,” John said encouragingly.
“You were with me, John. I don’t think I’m ready to do this on my own yet.”
“Shall I go with you one more time? I don’t mind.”
“Your call.”
“Let’s do it.” John grabbed his cane and pulled Cole along by the hand. They headed to the elevator and made their way out of the building.
“Remember when I mentioned you have to use your other senses?” John asked as they headed toward the subway entrance.
“Yes.”
“Your hearing will tell you which side of the street the cars are coming from, where the other fast footsteps are in relation to your own. Move forward when the crowd moves. Count steps in the beginning, but soon you won’t need to. Your body will tell you when you get to the end of a stairwell, especially after you’ve ridden the subway for a while. You’ll feel the energy of people moving in and out of the doors, and you’ll literally go with the flow.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not easy, but eventually, you stop thinking and just do it. Your guide dog will be a tremendous help when you’re out in public. He’ll become your eyes.”
“What about something unexpected?”
“Your hearing should alert you to unexpected noises such as construction or emergency vehicles. The dog will stop and not allow you to move forward. He’ll be much better for you than this cane is for me.”
“Why don’t you have a dog, John?”
“I have macular degeneration, Cole. It’s age related, and although I’m legally blind, my vision is still better than yours. I can get by with the cane.”
“I still have some vision.”
“I know, son, but you have to prepare for the worst.”
“Is it really going to happen?”
“You will go blind, Cole. It’s not a question of if; it’s a question of when.”
“I’ve heard cases where people have coasted for years with tunnel vision like mine.”
“It’s true, but you can’t count on it.”
Cole sighed deeply, leaning into Dr. Butterman. “I feel so alone sometimes.”
“I’m sorry, son. Isn’t your family any consolation? Your girlfriend?”
“John, I’m so confused.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
By then the train was pulling into their stop and they both stood. Cole shook his head and said
, “Another time, perhaps?”
“Whenever you’re ready, Cole.”
“Why don’t you go back uptown, John? I think I can manage to get home from here.”
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble at all.”
“I’m positive. I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”
“All right.” John embraced him. “Be mindful of your surroundings.”
“I will.”
They stepped off the train and John turned left while Cole turned right, following the crowd. Without his mentor’s reassuring presence, images of what could happen flashed through his mind. Beads of sweat broke out on his upper lip and he flinched when an incoming train hooted while a voice on a loudspeaker announced the next stop and reminded the crowd to stand back. Noise from every direction assaulted him—the whoosh of air brakes, a door scraping open, music drifting from headphones, people chatting, laughter, swearing, running footsteps—and his anxiety skyrocketed. He made it to the escalator without a problem, and he clutched the handrail in a death grip as it moved up to the first level. When people started squeezing past him, he knew he had to step off or get crushed in the stampede. When he felt solid ground, he made a hard right, remembering there was another long flight of stairs he had to navigate before reaching the exit. He managed them easily, and was a little giddy with success, forgetting to maintain his focus. Someone shoved him out of the way, and he landed on his knees with a sickening crunch while a cop shouted orders at the asshole who’d knocked him down. Pandemonium ensued as onlookers joined in the chase. On his knees, Cole was practically invisible, and people bulldozed over him, driving him down until he fell forward and scraped his face on the dirty pavement.
He was winded, but the worst part of it all was the humiliation. Lying there while people moved around him like he was inconsequential roadkill. No one bothered to stop and see if he was hurt. Not one gesture of kindness or concern, and he remained immobile, terror-stricken by the realization that he’d never make it on his own.
Cutting Cords (Cutting Cords Series Book 1) Page 7
