Then he considered how the night would transpire. Jimmy McSwain, who lived inside his mind more than inside his heart, imagined it wouldn’t go well. Instinct won over hope. The closer he got, the farther did he want to run.
§ § § §
The words reverberated in his brain: “Plan to stay the night…”
He hadn’t, no overnight bag, just his regular self, jeans, a V-neck sweater because it was cold out, his leather jacket. Turning the corner on 74th Street, he paused, knowing it was his last moment to turn back. He rubbed his jaw and felt the rough, three-day scruff. Maybe he should have shaved for the night’s date. All decisions though were for earlier. Now it was just forward motion. His feet resumed walking down the pretty, tree-lined street. No one paid any attention to him. Being neighbors in Manhattan didn’t mean being neighborly.
He approached the door buzzer with even more trepidation than he did the one earlier that afternoon. At the loft it had been pure business, an easy enough navigation. But approaching the brownstone of Dr. Steven Wang had bigger implications, and so when he found himself standing before the front door, he noticed his fingers shaking as they went for the doorbell. The time was five minutes past seven. Was he fashionably late or just anxious, somewhere in between? He felt like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, unsure of which direction to send himself in. His arms might not be tangled with indecision, but his mind certainly was. Turned out, though, he never had to press the bell. The door opened, and the decision was made for him.
“Hi,” Steven Wang said. “Sorry, saw you out the window.”
“Oh, hi,” Jimmy said. He’d been on plenty of stakeouts where he was watching someone. Now the shoe was on the other foot. It caught him off guard to know that Steven might have been gazing through the curtains all this time, watching for his arrival. It showed he was eager, but it also showed he might have invested more of his emotions into the night than had Jimmy. He could have been fine with all of this if he hadn’t run into Frisano earlier, which had rendered his thoughts into a jumbled mess. Was the universe testing him, or was it telling him the past was okay where it was, open your eyes and see what was before you?
Which right then was a handsome man, smiling widely and genuinely excited to see Jimmy. Dressed in casual slacks, a pullover burgundy sweater, Steven reached out a hand, taking Jimmy’s in his and escorting him inside. Before he even closed the door, he pressed his lips against Jimmy’s. It was a kiss of hello, of promise tinged with memories of their last time, their first time. He closed the door behind him anyway. Steven turned the lock. He touched Jimmy’s cheek.
“Growing a beard?”
“Just lazy,” he said. “You sound like my mother.”
“Except I bet she’s always after you to shave. I’m not.” He paused, his hand lingering. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Did you think I would cancel?”
“Thought maybe you had a case or second thoughts.”
“Both, but I’m here,” Jimmy said. “Private eyes set their own hours.”
Steven led him into the living room, their hands linked. “Sounds liberating. Not so, doctors. I had a couple grueling days at the hospital.”
“Everything okay?”
“When an oncologist can deliver good news, that’s a good day.” Steven pulled him in tight suddenly, another soft kiss lingering across his lips. “Now, it’s an even better day. In the last five days since we met, I swear I’ve delivered nothing but good news to patients. One man in remission, a biopsy that came back negative, an elderly patient who I thought would never see the outside world again was discharged. Such rare events fill me with such joy, knowing I might have made a difference or that someone else might have had a positive influence on me, on my mood.”
“Oh, I think you deserve the credit. I’m an ancillary distraction at best.”
“That’s hardly the description I would use for you, Jimmy McSwain.”
“Well, you are sweet.” He paused, looked around, but didn’t sit yet. They were being stiff, formal with one another, despite the passion they had shared last week. It was one thing to go home with someone on a first night, to indulge in a heated moment. It was another to plan such an event, a date that brought with it a host of expectations. Jimmy almost felt like he was on call. Steven was in control of whatever he had planned, and he would dictate when they would dine, when they would kiss, when they would walk upstairs hand in hand. Though it was Jimmy’s decision whether they would share a sunrise.
Silence feel between them. Steven turned suddenly and said, “Follow me.”
“Where are we going?”
“We need to pick out the wine we’ll have with dinner.”
“Oh, whatever you choose. Not my specialty.”
“Jimmy, just come with me.”
They ventured downstairs, beyond the kitchen, and into a small room that contained several wine racks, bottles stacked from floor to ceiling. A denizen of pubs generally, Jimmy wasn’t sure he’d seen so much wine and confessed that he’d have no idea where to start.
“Usually I just pop the cap of a beer bottle,” he said, a smile gracing his lips.
Steven moved in closer to him, kissed him again, his hand suddenly snaking down. It ended at Jimmy’s crotch, where he began to rub at it. Jimmy felt his body respond and not just to the taste of Steven’s tongue inside him. He had a feeling it too was staged, a seduction Steven had been planning all day. He certainly wasn’t wasting any time. He dropped to his knees. Jimmy watched his every move from staring at his growing bulge back up to him, eyes locking, remaining locked while Steven unsnapped the jeans, unzipped them.
“Steven…you know…”
“I know what I want,” he said.
Jimmy’s pants were pulled down to his ankles, his briefs following. His cock popped up, nearly fully hard. He felt Steven take hold of it, first in his fist, pumping it, stroking it, expanding its shaft. Then his mouth fell over the large tip, tongue encircling it. Jimmy felt his knees buckle, thinking he might topple over. He felt exposed, vulnerable, standing in the middle of the dimly lit cellar, but he remained, watching as Steven engulfed his cock, sliding in, out, his mouth’s actions growing with each passing moment. Jimmy ran his hands through Steven’s black hair, guiding himself deeper into the man’s willing mouth. A moan escaped from Steven, and the sound made Jimmy pump harder. His earlier hesitation gave way to sudden desire, with Steven the driving force behind his actions. Jimmy gave himself to the heated moment, knowing it was just the appetizer before their sexual main course.
Steven pulled back, and Jimmy looked down. All he saw was a smile.
“You are so hot, Jimmy, so damn hot…”
Jimmy pushed him down on the throw rug before the wine racks, positioned himself over him. Steven nodded, and Jimmy slid himself back in the man’s mouth, and he used his hips for a powerful thrust. He felt Steven’s fingers cup his ass, pushing him more. Jimmy continued to thrust at him, feeling the pressure build. He knew he was close, and he knew it would only be the first of the night. He steeled himself for his climax, thrust again, again, and at last he felt the rush of heat envelop him. He cried out, an indication Steven could pull out, but the man kept his lips locked around the shaft, and when Jimmy unleashed, they remained that way, Steven drinking him down.
“Oh, oh…” Jimmy cried out again, catching his breath as the passion drained out of him.
At last Steven released him. Jimmy stood up, zipped up. Steven rose too, kissed him, and Jimmy thought he could taste himself.
“We’re having filet mignon. I think a nice Cabernet would go with that.”
Steven smiled again and then led Jimmy out of the wine cellar and back into the roomier kitchen. It was almost like the moment had happened in suspended time. Steven just removed the cork, grabbed two stemless glasses, and poured the rich burgundy wine. The color matched his sweater. It was like darkening blood. He then handed a glass to Jimmy and raised his own.
“To all tha
t we find passion in,” Steven said.
Jimmy clinked, said nothing, and drank. It was dry, fruity, with dark notes.
Small talk suddenly ensued, the weather and whether there was snow in the forecast, while Steven busied himself in the kitchen. The steaks were in the oven, the appealing smell taking over. Potatoes were on the stove, asparagus in a pan doused with herbs and butter. Jimmy sipped at his wine and tried to remember the last time a man had cooked for him.
Dates weren’t his usual thing, even when he and his ex-boyfriend, Remy, were together. They went out a lot: restaurants, walks, shopping, theatre, and then nights of exploring each other, knowing each other intimately.
Frisano crept into his thoughts as he realized it was he who had last cooked for him, an Italian dinner made with his mother’s sauce, simple but good. What Steven was preparing was gourmet, and when it was served, he did so using his fine china, a table set upstairs in an alcove near the living room. A bay window with open drapes looked out over the front of the building. Candles were lit.
“I think you’re spoiling me,” Jimmy said as they took their first bite. The filet mignon was practically melting in his mouth.
“Good. I like to do this, and I don’t get much chance. Like I said, the hospital keeps me so busy, and then there is the charity work I do. Doesn’t leave much time for…so, um, if I was a bit too forward, just now…you never know when you’re going to get a call to take you away…like the other night. Opportunity is something to be taken advantage of.”
Jimmy nodded. “Steven, no need to apologize. It was actually…hot, surprising. I liked it.”
“You seemed to.”
Jimmy speared an asparagus, bit the head off it. “Is that what you want me to do to you?”
“What I want is what you did to me Saturday night. Jimmy, the way you felt inside me, on top…”
“I hope you didn’t plan dessert,” Jimmy said, his smile more of a leer.
“Just you,” he said.
The sexual tension hung between them, lingered as they ate, as they stole quick glances at each other, when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Jimmy felt his shoulders relax, a feeling as rare for him as the steak was. Being there in the lovely brownstone, hidden from the ills of the world, Jimmy didn’t think of Serena Carson, of Henderson Carlyle, or of Mickey Dean. Instead he thought of how nice it was when two people shared a connection, how uncertain it could be, how unpredictable. He thought of his parents, how young they had been when they met, what that first bloom of love felt like. Was that what this was, or just an upscale hook-up?
As Jimmy finished his wine and watched as Steven refilled the glass, he reminded himself he had a second agenda here and to focus on it, before his mind became muddled. He set the glass down, cleared his throat.
“So, Steven, how long have you been working with Help Is Here?”
“Probably about three years, happened by accident. They came to Columbia Presbyterian looking for a doctor who might want to volunteer his time. Since we’ve already established I don’t have much a personal life, I was a good choice, and I’m glad I did it. Gradually I became so much more involved. The reward was too great for the people I helped and who helped me.” He took a sip of his wine. “And not to bring up an unpleasant topic, but, you know, we haven’t discussed the reason you had to leave on Saturday…”
“Henderson Carlyle. You knew him?”
“From events, yes. He came to the hospital a couple times, photo ops.”
Jimmy recalled the photo he’d seen online. He also recalled what he’d learned from Billy Potter, Henderson’s neighbor, the truth about Henderson liking men. For a moment he wondered if Henderson and Steven had ever shared a night together. Jimmy decided it was not the time to ask. Instead he let Steven continue. He’d brought up the subject: keep it going, see what he could learn, discern.
“What was your impression of him?”
“Self-absorbed, all about himself. He always had some beautiful woman on his arm.”
“You ever hear any rumors about him?”
“Rumors? Like what? Truthfully, I try to stay out of people’s business.”
“You brought up Henderson Carlyle. Was just curious why.”
“Because his unfortunate demise benefits me,” Steven said.
Jimmy was intrigued. He leaned in closer, the flicker of the candlelight dancing in Steven’s dark eyes. “How so?”
“I’ve been asked to fill his spot on the board. Melissa Harris-J’Arnoud called me yesterday and said I was the unanimous choice of the other seven members, herself and Serena leading the charge. I was honored of course, and of course I accepted with alacrity.”
“‘Alacrity’?” Jimmy smiled. “Big word.”
“Hey, I’m on the board of directors for a major New York-based charity.”
Jimmy laughed. “So congratulations are in order. How shall we celebrate?”
“You could take me upstairs, Jimmy.”
It was a quick response, almost like it had been on the tip of his tongue, waiting for an easy transition to his lips. Their plates were clear and their glasses empty, only their desires were full. They clasped hands as they made their way up the stairs, quietly, the acrid smoke of the doused candle wafting after them, like the trail of smoke created by their bodies. Reaching the top of the stairs, they paused just like the other night, and they kissed, Jimmy on the top step, Steven standing on the floor, their faces even, the height differential gone. Their eyes were locked, and lips came together in a sudden feast that rivaled the meal they had just shared. Jimmy kissed his neck, the scrape of his scruff eliciting pleasing sounds from Steven.
Jimmy grabbed at him, pulled him tight. He could feel the man’s heart beating through the soft cashmere sweater, felt its heat after he lifted the sweater off his body and tossed it onto the hardwood floor. He sought a nipple, his tongue tasting it, his mouth devouring it. Jimmy felt the man grab at his back, nails biting through his own sweater, not cashmere, not fancy, off the rack. It didn’t matter. It was soon on the floor too, both discarded like cheap hindrances. Steven took a step back, Jimmy watching as he smiled at the sight before him.
“Jimmy, you are so sexy…I can’t wait…”
Jimmy pulled him in again, Steven shuddering with desire as Jimmy’s chest brushed up against him. The hair was thick and springy, dark and plentiful, a natural sweater beneath the fake one. Steven kissed it, licked a nipple then another. He brushed at the hair, grabbed a fistful. Jimmy kissed him deeply, a hunger taking hold of him.
Soon they had fallen to the bed, and the last of their clothes came off. Their limbs entwined, kisses enveloping them, heat sizzling off of them. It’s what Steven had craved and what Jimmy couldn’t deny. Steven lay on his back, his legs open, and he begged Jimmy to slide inside him. Preparations dispensed with, Jimmy’s cock throbbing, ready for entry, a hand brushing at his hairy chest, he smiled down at the waiting, willing man beneath him. He was sexy in the soft light, his gentle soul giving way to an animal instinct.
“Jimmy,” he heard, the voice a whisper in the night.
“Yeah? Tell me what you want.”
“I want to know, downstairs…at dinner…were you interrogating me?”
It was a strange question, the timing for it even more odd. Jimmy hesitated, trying to read his new lover’s mind, trying to know the truth behind the question.
“Would you be offended if I had been?”
“No, I think I’d be turned on even more.”
“Yeah, I was digging for information.”
“Oh my God, the hottest private eye on the planet, and he was drilling me, like I’m some perp, a suspect.”
“I’m about to drill you again,” Jimmy said.
“Oh, yes, oh, please, take me now.”
And Jimmy did. He entered him, felt the man’s grip on his back as he reached a full, deep penetration. Jimmy attacked him, devoured him with each thrust of his hips, all while Steven asked for more and even more. I
t was a sweaty coupling, kisses exchanged while Jimmy continued at him, switching his position slightly. He spread Steven’s legs as he speared him, his chest heaving as he went at him. Steven stroked himself, pumping his cock, until he let out a sharp cry of desire. Jimmy watched as the man exploded all over himself, felt as Steven’s hands grabbed at the hair on his chest. He pumped harder, more and more, knowing he wasn’t far from climax himself. At last the rush happened for the second time tonight feeding Steven, filling him up, quenching a thirst no wine ever could. He pulled out, and he fell over onto the bed, the ceiling staring back at him, almost acknowledging his return.
Steven slid in beside him.
“Jimmy, I’m sorry if I said you should plan to stay the night, to spring that on you.”
“It’s okay, I know it was just a spur of the moment comment…”
“No, you don’t understand, not just tonight,” Steven said. Suddenly he propped himself upon his elbow, his free hand brushing at the sweaty mat on Jimmy’s chest. He twirled a dark tuft around a finger, smiled. “I mean every night. Jimmy McSwain, move in with me.”
Chapter Eight
Manhattan’s dark streets seemed to be mocking him with their mix of bright lights and black angles. People paid no attention to him. Only his shadow did, emerging under streetlamps like a tease only to disappear when he reached a crowded corner as if the greater the number of people around, the more his own shadow hid in shame.
His first thought was: why were so many people walking the sidewalks at this late hour?
Except it was New York, and it wasn’t as late as it might have been.
In fact he should have still been in bed, perhaps making love a second time or third time to Steven, him lying in Jimmy’s strong arms while they rested their bodies, let their hearts settle and talked about the future. Instead he was dressed and walking by Lincoln Center, where only days ago he’d attended a fancy benefit and met a man whom he’d shared his body with, only to walk out when he revealed too much of his heart.
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