Torso Tackle

by R. W. Clinger

  Before returning to the dinner party and Zoe’s double-chocolate tort cake, which is drizzled with caramel and walnuts, I am kissed again, being held in Ben’s arms against the wall like a prisoner. But inside I am still feeling dead for him, motionless, only interested in his body for sex, his dick for my selfish pleasure, and nothing more.

  Chapter 26: Shoot

  Ben takes me to one of his photo shoots. A downtown photographer by the name of Beatrice Phillip asks us to show up at one o’clock at her studio apartment, which she works out of when she’s not traveling from city to city doing other shoots. The place is an open room with very little furniture. One corner is dressed in white sheets and a wooden park bench. A variety of lights and two cameras on tripods surround the area.

  Upon our arrival, Ben is given a pair of denim jeans by a designer from The Hegel Company, who politely tells him, “Put these on. No underwear. Someone from my staff will do your makeup in a minute.”

  An hour later Ben is in full model mode, looking more stunning than I have ever seen him. He is manhandled by the designer; jeans are unbuttoned and his navel is sprayed with droplets of water. The Taylor Lautner look-alike designer says, “Beatrice will tell you what to do now.”

  The advertisement is for Hegel jeans. Ben poses over a hundred times on the bench, standing next to the bench, and without the bench. Beatrice works with his beautiful body for the next two hours. Some of the shots are promiscuous, which I guess will sell the chosen product better: Ben places a palm flat against his stomach and his fingertips almost touch the V-area of his unexposed private parts. Fingers dance over nipples and along his neck. In one shot, Ben is bent over, looking between his legs at the camera, smiling from ear to ear in a playful manner like a drunk college freshman.

  I watch from afar, sitting next to his agent, Melissa Alter, who just happens to look like Sandra Bullock. At one point during the photo shoot, she leans into me and says in my right ear, “He is amazingly hot. Those jeans make him look ten years younger.”

  “He does look good. No wonder he’s a model.”

  Beatrice catches us whispering, spins around at the scene, and glares at us. She scoffs, “I need to concentrate. Talking is not permitted. Take it outside.”

  Melissa and I keep quiet, watching Beatrice, Ben, and his diligent team at work for the next hour, on our best behaviors.

  * * * *

  When the shoot ends, Ben is exhausted and needs a strong drink. I decide to take him to Meaties, a gay bar and restaurant on Reynaldo Street. We sit for the next two hours and enjoy each other’s company, recapping the afternoon’s shoot.

  Underneath the table, his hand slides between my legs. My zipper is casually discovered, pulled down, and he begins to carry out sexual antics that he shouldn’t.

  “Not here,” I scold. “This isn’t the place or time.”

  I realize that he has had too many Long Island iced teas, becoming horny as hell and drunk in such a short amount of time.

  He chuckles at my reprimand, and shares in a rather loud tone, allowing the guests around us to hear: “I want to shoot my load into your mouth when we get back to the apartment.”

  I hush! him, holding up an index finger to my lips.

  Ben simply laughs at me.

  “You’re making a scene,” I discipline him.

  “Take me into the bathroom and fuck me, Sebastian.”

  Fully irritated with his obnoxious behavior, overwhelmed this evening with him, I stand up from the table. I find an appropriate amount of money in my jeans for our bill, help Ben out of his chair, and leave the restaurant with my head held low and my dignity burned. We will not be frequenting Meaties anytime soon, I suppose.

  Ben sort of giggles on the way out, smacking me on my backside in a joking manner, and continues to act like a boy.

  * * * *

  Although he wants sex when we get back to our apartment, I don’t put out. Rather, I escort him to the couch and tell him to take a nap. If he’s good, I tell Ben, I may let him seduce me later, when he’s sober.

  “Then I can shoot in your mouth?” he inquires, looking up at me with his puppy dog green eyes.

  “Only if you behave yourself.”

  “I’ll be on my best behavior.” He snuggles into the cushions, closes his eyes, and casually drifts into a nap.

  Chapter 27: Pumpkin Love

  Jory is in town for a biweek, on a break from his football team. Thanksgiving is just around the corner and he decides to take me to Highdale Farm to purchase a pumpkin.

  Highdale is owned and operated by Jory’s cousin, Bobby Highdale. The two hundred-acre business has been around for the past fifty years. A local custom prompts lovers and families to drive the fifteen miles northeast of Vanmer to the farm and pick out freshly harvested pumpkins for the autumn season. Jory’s excited about spending the evening with me; cutting and dicing the fleshy fruits with knives, cooking their innards and creating pumpkin pies.

  The day makes for a perfect drive in Jory’s Hummer; blue skies, fifty degrees, low humidity. He talks most of the way about how the Vipers will win the divisional championship,; the upcoming holidays that he’s excited about spending with me, maybe a Bahamas vacation after his football season is over.

  “I’ve never been to the Bahamas,” I say across the space between us.

  “I think we’d have a blast going together. It’ll give us something both to look forward to.”

  I concur, looking out the Hummer’s front window, taking in the autumn day, and secretly smile, pleased to be in his company.

  * * * *

  Over two thousand pumpkins litter the ground next to Bobby Highdale’s barn. Jory and I choose a rather large one from the lot before having the cashier at the outside checkout station ring up our find.

  “Jory Sole, how the hell are you?” an abrupt and masculine voice calls out over the crowd.

  The quarterback spins around at my side and looks through the patrons. We both see a red-haired farmer with massive muscles and a nicely manicured beard. Jory closes in on the man with open arms and cheerfully announces, “Cousin Bobby! You have been missed.”

  I witness the two men share a bear hug. Bobby stands an inch taller than his cousin—the Highdale/Sole boys come in big packages—and he ruffles Jory’s hair. Jory pulls away from his cousin, shares a fake punch to the man’s jaw, and they both laugh like little boys.

  I’m introduced to the farmer, who has a lovely wife named Genny and two daughters, Kerri and Dana. Bobby looks down at his watch and says, “Dinner is served at six, if you want to stick around.”

  Jory shakes his head and responds, “I appreciate that, but Sebastian and I have to get back to Vanmer.”

  Bobby doesn’t push. Instead, he asks if we have time for a quick tour of his farm, since I’ve never seen it before.

  Jory turns to me and his eyes ask the same question, and I tell him, “Let’s do it.”

  * * * *

  After placing our chosen pumpkin into the Hummer, Bobby walks us into the massive barn with three lofts, cows, horses, two John Deere tractors, the smell of dry hay, seasonal corn, and pumpkins. Bobby is just about to pin a wagon to one of his tractors to give us a festive hayride around the farm. Unfortunately, his cell phone rings at his hip and he excuses himself. Before exiting our twosome, he calls over his right shoulder, “Make yourselves at home. Enjoy the place.”

  Left to our own devices, Jory stares up at the highest loft; fifty-plus feet high, narrow boards, stuffed with square bales of hay. To our right is a ladder leading to all three lofts, and he says, “You’re going to blow me up there,” pointing to the third level in the barn.

  “Who says you’re not going to blow me?” I challenge.

  “Last one up the ladder does the blowing,” he shares, rushing to the wooden rungs hanging off the trio of lofts, waiting to be climbed.

  * * * *

  He seeks out the third level loft first. I follow behind, collapsing over his weight at the top. Ou
r faces meet and we kiss in a mound of hay. And Jory, convinced that he’s receiving a blowjob in the top of his cousin’s barn, pushes my head down to his middle, and whispers, “Suck me off, champ.”

  I don’t have to be told twice, unzip his goods, find his semi-stiff rod inside its cozy denim, carefully slip it out, and dive over it with my mouth, shoving it into the back of my throat.

  Chapter 28: Footballers

  Sunday afternoon football rules in Vanmer. The local grocery stores close early. Church functions revolve around kick-off time. Fans start tailgating in the Vanmer Stadium parking lot at nine o’clock in the morning, which goes on all day long.

  During the fourth quarter against the Trenton Titans, Jory’s handsome face shines on the wall-size monitor beside the scoreboard. Champion horns blast a playful tune from car-size speakers around the stadium’s interior. A smile surfaces between the quarterback’s scruffy cheeks as he stands on the sideline.

  I bubble up with joy inside. My face feels like it’s on fire. I sort of melt in the stands, recalling every time my body has pressed against Jory’s. Woozy, lost, and numb, I sigh with a sense of contentment, pleased to see my man on the large monitor for the crowd to view. Someone I have been trying to catch for almost six months, and have finally landed, calling my own.

  Ben punches me in the shoulder, leans into me so surrounding fans won’t hear, and asks, “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

  “Who?…What?” I play dumb. Sometimes this card is better to play than admitting to things you don’t want to admit to.

  “Jory Sole. You fell in love with him.”

  I shake my head, and reply, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ben. How much did you have to drink?”

  Every time we go to one of Jory’s games, Ben gets smashed, unable to hold his alcohol. The poor bastard doesn’t know when to stop drinking, and I end up having to carry his ass home, making sure that he’s safe.

  He replies, “I had three so far. I’m not plastered.” He points at me with a wide and mischievous grin lifting on his face. “You’re in love, Sebastian. That quarterback has your heart, among other body parts.”

  “Do you think this is funny?”

  He becomes serious, losing his witty smile. “No…I mean…I don’t know what to make out of it. You’re fucking two guys at the same time. Is that love? If so, how in love are you, anyway? How honest are you being to yourself? And how honest are you being to the quarterback?”

  The Vipers make a six-point touchdown and the fans erupt in a wave of exciting cheers. Behind us, a Titan-supporting visitor starts a fistfight with a Vipers die-hard admirer. The fight draws my conversation with Ben to an immediate close. Bodies fly toward us and we have to get out of the way, preventing ourselves from being knocked down or into other fans.

  Security arrives about a minute later, separating the rivaling team fighters. A few witnesses are questioned regarding the details of the fight. Ben just happens to be one of the fans who is pulled aside; grilled by a two-hundred and ninety pound gorilla of a man wearing a pistol, badge, and the word SECURITY across his back.

  I’m left alone at our seats, waiting for his return. In the meantime, I get another view of the quarterback on the massive monitor next to the scoreboard. Jory smiles from ear to ear, pleased with the team’s score; one step closer to his championship. The guy looks totally irresistible. Easy on the eyes. Gorgeous. Mine.

  I realize I’m pretty lucky to have him in my life. This makes me think of Ben’s comments about my honesty regarding both men. Maybe Ben is right; I’m not being honest to myself or Jory. The last thing I want to do is wreck the comforting relationship I have with Jory. I’m not being fair to him by having sex with Ben behind Jory’s back. I love Jory, but not Ben. How can I do this to Jory? Who am I to toy with the pairs’ emotions? What exactly am I jeopardizing?

  I can’t lose either of them at the moment, ending up boyfriend-less. For the past two years I have admired Ben’s pretty world, falling in lust with the guy while he works out in our shared apartment. Day after day, I have studied his body with a longing hunger. Day after day I have wished that he would sexually connect with me. I made a promise to myself moons ago that if he ever wanted to adore my skin, escaping his straight life and Zoe’s companionship, I would be there for him. To my surprise, this has occurred. He found the courage to open up his body to me, allowing me to eat up his sexy to the fullest, even unconditionally. He loves me in his twisted way; I know this. And I enjoy the sex we have, helplessly involved with his skin; long before Jory’s interest in me, moons and moons ago, I swear.

  But what about Jory? The quarterback for the Vipers is everything I have always wanted in a man; sensitivity, kindness, caring heart, smarts, a self-sufficient lifestyle, good looks, fame, and money. The football player has the entire package regarding how a man in my life should be. He’s faithful and devoted to me. There isn’t a woman he returns to on a regular basis and slips inside her bed. He isn’t a temporary fuck like my time with Ben. Our relationship is serious, more complex, which leaves so much for me to jeopardize.

  Ben slips up to my side and says, “Fuck, you will never guess what I just went through.”

  I buy him a beer and we talk about it for the next half hour while the Vipers win the game. In the meantime, I try to keep my thoughts of deception at bay, camouflaging a problem in my life, but only temporarily.

  Chapter 29: Office Visit

  The following day, Ben leaves town to shoot a magazine advertisement for Diablo underwear in Las Vegas. He’s not going to be back for forty-eight hours, which leaves me with the apartment to myself, and a little extra “alone time” with Jory. Before he leaves, I kiss him goodbye, tell him to have a safe trip, and instruct, “Here’s one hundred bucks to use in a slot machine. I hope you get lucky and win.”

  He tells me he’ll give it his best try, vanishing from Vanmer for now, soon to return.

  * * * *

  Simone informs me upon my morning arrival that I have an unscheduled patient in my office.

  I take my mail and While You Were Out messages from her, and inquire, “Who is it?”

  “The Vipers’ quarterback. I hope you don’t mind, but I did get him to sign a football for my son. Lennon loves Jory Sole. He’ll die when I give it to him for Christmas. I hope that wasn’t crossing a line, Sebastian. And if so, I’m terribly sorry.”

  I thumb through the mail in front of her desk: bills, insurance company information, local flyers. “Did Jory mind?”

  “Of course not. That man is a superstar in our city, and now I know why. He is so kind, all smiles, and he makes me melt. No wonder you’ve fallen for him.”

  I lift my head from the mail, nod, lean across her desk, and whisper, “He makes me melt, too.”

  She giggles, gently pats the back of my right hand. “You’re so bad.”

  As I walk away, entering my office, I say over my right shoulder with glee and sarcasm, “I learned all of my tricks from you, Simone…even the naughty ones.”

  * * * *

  When I enter my office, Jory sits behind my desk with his dress shirt unbuttoned and his tie askew. I study his hairy-plated chest, one hard nipple, and his puckered navel. A devilish smile spreads across my face and I say, “Mr. Sole, something tells me you have your slacks pushed down to your ankles.”

  He rolls a palm down the center of his nicely built chest and replies in a playful tone, “I’m not sure, let me check.” The palm falls to his center and he lightly gasps with pleasure. “No slacks or briefs here, my friend. What should we do about this?”

  I walk up to the desk and ask, “What did you find down there?”

  “Why don’t you come around the desk and find out?”

  I shake my head and respond, “I can’t mix business with pleasure.”

  “Since when?” he chuckles. “I remember the day you were teaching me a stress reduction breathing method and you practically jammed your cock into my ass.”

/>   “Something tells me you liked it.”

  “Never said I didn’t. In fact, it pretty much confirmed for me that you were gay and liked me. In truth, I was flattered and couldn’t wait for another appointment with you.”

  “And a few days later you asked me to that breast cancer fundraiser.”

  "I cannot tell a lie, you had me hooked right from the beginning."

  I look over the desk and see Jory’s right palm working his ten-inch pole. Hunger for his skin starts to burn within me and I heedlessly lick my lips.

  He Jory notices my attraction and says, “You’re the one I want to come. Something tells me you want me. Why don’t you get your ass over here and have a seat on my lap, office boy?”

  After locking my office door and delaying all of my scheduled appointments by one hour, I find the quarterback in my desk chair, strip down to my bare bottom, and jump on his tool for a morning ride, pleasuring myself with his flesh again.

  Chapter 30: Caught

  Two events transpire on December 1 that rock my world. The first affects me on a secondary level. Zoe is aware of Ben’s relationship with me and confronts him about it. Obviously she has put a few puzzle pieces together in their connected lives and has determined that Ben’s likeness for my skin and company is what he sometimes wants. He comes clean of course, calling me his lover. Ben tries to explain to her that he loves both of us. After the event at her house unfolds, he tells me that Zoe became livid and slapped him across his face, crying. “She’s broken and lost without me. She says she needs to think about our relationship.”

  I try to support him the best way I know how. We stand in our shared kitchen and I feel a hug is in motion, but he pushes me away, which surprises me. I back off and reply, “What?” with open arms, unsure of what’s going on.

  He gives me a helpless and confused look that says I just need some time to myself. Thanks for the care, but I have to pass this time.

  “I get it,” I respond, walk away, hide in my bedroom, and wait for him to come around.