Personal Demons

by Jay Lygon

  He laughed. “This would be purely platonic, I assure you. Just for the red carpet. And if he’s the jealous type--”

  “He is. Very.”

  “Let me sweeten the pot a little. He can even come along as a chaperone if he wants to. And in exchange--”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  Harris’ mouth twisted up in that easy going, dimpled grin I’d seen a thousand times on the screen. It was devastating in person. “What if I agree to an interview with Park Avenue Magazine? They’ve been after me for years.”

  ***

  Way too early the next morning, my phone rang. Figuring it was Hector, I didn’t bother to see who it was. “Hello?”

  “Sam! My boy!”

  It definitely wasn’t Hector.

  “George?” I rubbed my face.

  “I don’t know what you did to talk him into it, but whatever it was, thank you!”

  “Huh?” I was so eloquent when I was hung over.

  “Harris Smith’s people just called us. He wants to do the December cover! His management said you talked him into it. Do you know how long we’ve been begging them for a cover?”

  “No.”

  “Ages! Wait a second. Someone here wants to talk to you.”

  “Sam Dewey?” a man asked. “This is Lyle, editor-in-chief for Park Avenue Magazine. We’re all very pleased that you talked Harris into doing our cover. Keep up the good work.”

  “Sam, say whatever you want in your review. You’re golden, boy. Golden!” George said. Lyle must have passed the phone back to him.

  “Uh, thanks.”

  “Well, I’ll let you go. Just wanted to give you a pat on the back.”

  After he hung up, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. What had I just gotten myself into? Sure, George was happy, but I had this horrible feeling that Hector was going to be very angry.

  ***

  Symbolically and physically, thresholds were important in many religions, but no more so than in Wiccan practice. Ever since I moved in to Hector’s house, the front door was the main focus of my warding spells. Sure, I cast spells around the property line, on the back door, and on the detached garage, but warding focused on the threshold always had more power than any other spell.

  As I crossed the threshold into our home, spells crackled over my skin. They recognized me and let me through, but it was like walking through thick water. Sensing that I meant the inhabitants no harm, they finally withdrew.

  My sport bag slid off my shoulder and thumped on the floor. I drew in a deep breath. Nothing smelled as good as home.

  “Sam? Is that you?” Hector stepped under the archway from the kitchen.

  The first sight of him after we’d been apart a few days always stunned me. He was so damn hot. Even though he grinned at me, his legs were spread in that domineering stance that made it clear he was the Master. I dropped everything, went to my knees, and crawled across the room to him. My lips pressed reverently to the toe of his shoe. Then I turned my head and rested my cheek there.

  “Boy.” He spoke softly, but the bass rumble of his voice filled the room.

  I gazed up at him. Those cute crinkles around his eyes deepened as his smile grew warmer. He spread his arms. I rose from the floor and threw myself at his chest. My nose pressed against his neck. I inhaled the scent of him.

  “It’s been a long week,” Hector said. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  I nodded.

  He gave me a quick kiss before releasing me. “So, tell me all about it.”

  “Lots of movies. Not many I liked. I’d already seen most of the good ones in Venice. There were some dull parties and mindless Q&A sessions.”

  “Your blog entries made it sound a lot better than that.”

  “You read my blog?”

  Hector sat on the couch. I knelt at his feet and rested my head on his thigh.

  “Of course. I read all your work, Sam. I get to see a whole other side of you through your writing. The way you talk about movies, it’s like listening to Sister Wendy talk about art. I see things I never noticed before. Plus you’re really quite funny, you know. Witty, but not mean spirited.”

  People left comments like that every day on the blog, but somehow it meant so much more hearing it from Hector. Every time he praised me, I blushed like crazy while my heart flew. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He tried to look stern, but I could see the smile lurking. “So, do you have anything to confess?”

  Going an entire week without sex or jerking off had been a real struggle for me, but it was worth it to face him with a clear conscience. I shook my head.

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.” Hector patted the couch cushion next to him. Grateful, I crawled up next to him and cuddled close. “Poor Baby. A whole week without release. Are your balls sore?” He gripped my package and gave it a hard squeeze.

  I nodded and tried to look as contrite and mournful as I felt. “Are yours, Sir?”

  Hector lightly grazed his lips over mine. “When you aren’t dosing my food with your lust spells, I can go for a couple days without sex.”

  “I guess I can, too, but I don’t like it.”

  “A little suffering is good for you.” He kissed me. “But I missed this.” Soon he tugged at the top button of my jeans. My hands were all over him. He shoved me back on the couch and yanked my pants down just far enough to free my cock. .

  “Poor little Boy. No sex for a week. That’s what happens when you’re bad.”

  My hands fumbled with his belt. He was as hard as I was. “Sir, please, just let me--”

  His tongue plunged into my mouth. Oh, man. My mind reeled. For a moment, I forgot about everything but our mouths meshed together like we were breathing the same oxygen, and then it felt like I’d go crazy if I couldn’t suck his cock, so I tore at his clothes. We were panting and grinding. Muscles strained against muscles.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “Damn it!” Hector glared at the front door.

  I felt exactly the same way. “We can ignore it, Sir.”

  Hector seemed tempted for a moment, but he rose off me. I propped up on my elbows. My lips felt swollen. How could he leave me like that?

  “Boy.”

  Scowling, I rose off the couch and buttoned my jeans. I yanked open the front door.

  Alberto stood on our front porch looking way too happy. I scowled at him.

  “Sam! Hi! Long time no see, huh?”

  “All of two hours. That must be a record.”

  Hector hugged me from behind and ground his hard-on against my ass.

  When Alberto smiled, angels probably sang. He was gorgeous. I envied his youth and boyish energy. Not so long ago, I had been like that. I wasn’t so sure I liked the way Hector and Alberto grinned at each other. Jealous? Maybe I was, a little. Hector swore he preferred me older, but I had lingering doubts. He sure looked interested in the hottie standing on our porch.

  Alberto eyed my rumpled clothing and hard-on with a knowing look. “Ah -- I seem to have interrupted something.”

  “You have. Is this important or just a social call?” Hector asked.

  “Just visiting.”

  “In that case--” Hector closed the door in Alberto’s face. I would have never dared be that rude, but he was the Master. His finger hooked into the back belt loop of my jeans, and he pulled me toward our bedroom. In the hallway, he shoved me against the wall and rubbed his body against mine while we made out.

  Dazed, I said, “I thought you could go days without sex.”

  “It’s been days, Baby.” His big fingers couldn’t seem to get my shirt buttons through the holes, so he gave up and yanked the shirt over my head and flung it on the ground. He kissed my bare shoulders. “Seven long, quiet, lonely days.” His kisses worked up my neck to the spot under my ear.

  “Papi, I think I should tell you something.”

  “Hush. You’re talking too much, Boy.” He slid down to his knees and unbuttoned my fly. I groaned as he took m
y hard on into his mouth. Watching him suck my cock always put me over the edge too fast, so I turned my head. That little brat Alberto was peering into our front window from the porch. I glared at him. He winked and then turned away.

  Hector backed off my cock and gently turned me around to face the wall. He pulled my pants down to my knees, parted my ass cheeks, and drove his tongue into my hole. I slid my hands down to grip my butt for him. His nose mashed against my tailbone as he lapped at the sensitive skin. My legs trembled. Hector wrapped his arms around my thighs and made me squat down on his face. My hands braced against the wall. He tugged off my pants and threw them aside. Then he slid down until he was on his back, bringing me down to the ground with him.

  I unzipped Hector’s pants. His scent rushed up to me. The foreskin on his fat cock was pulled back. I leaned forward to take it into my mouth.

  “No,” Hector mumbled before he pushed his tongue back inside me.

  “Please.” His cock was so tempting, so close. All I wanted to do was gently run the tip of my tongue between the head and foreskin. “Please.”

  He bit my ass cheek hard. He lapped at my hole, bit my ass hard enough to bruise, and sucked on my taint. My thigh muscles burned.

  Hector gently brought me down to the wooden floor. His knee pressed between my legs as he kissed my neck above my slave collar. His cock pressed against my hole and he slid just the head into me. For a moment, he didn’t move. He propped up on his elbow and looked down at me. His hand grasped mine. While he gazed into my eyes, he began a long, slow thrust into me.

  Chapter 7

  Stupid me, I thought Hector was cool with the whole thing about me accompanying Harris to his premiere I knew he wasn’t exactly happy, but I reminded him that it was no different from when he took clients out for dinner or drinks. It was just business. That’s how I saw it. Of course, the way I told the story, the magazine told me I had to. There was no way in hell I’d admit that I volunteered. I figured that Harris would come out, be seen with me a few times, and then find a real partner to drag to those things. After that, I was off the hook. How many times could he possibly need a token boyfriend anyway?

  I should have known something was up when Hector stayed home from work the day of Harris’ premier. An even bigger flag was when he poured his first whiskey around four instead of waiting until after dinner. He sat in his poppa chair in the living room. The TV wasn’t on, and he didn’t have a book. He just sat there, brooding, but I was too busy fretting over which shirt to wear with my new tux to pay much attention to that.

  “White, or white?” I held up both shirts for Hector’s approval. One had a classic pleated front. The other was plain. Even though I had colored shirts, I didn’t feel confident enough to pull off that look.

  Hector shrugged. He tipped his highball glass back and forth. The ice cubes clinked.

  “White it is. Do you want me to refresh that, Sir?”

  He held it out for me. I went into the kitchen and got him more ice. Then I poured a scant two fingers of whiskey into the glass. He made a face when I handed it to him, but he took a sip anyway.

  “Dinner is in the fridge. All you have to do it nuke it for a couple minutes.”

  Hector grunted.

  “I’ll be home as soon as I can. It shouldn’t be too late. The cast has a press junket tomorrow.”

  He stopped responding, so I went into the bedroom and got dressed.

  ***

  I’d been to movie premiers before, but I’d never arrived in a limo and walked down a red carpet. I had no clue what I was supposed to do, so I hung back while Harris waved to his fans. No one was interested in me, thank the Gods, so I searched the photographers for Alberto and did a little hello wave when our eyes met. He snapped a picture of me, the little brat, before turning his lens back to Harris.

  Further down the carpet, almost at the entrance of the theater, one of the TV shows stopped Harris for a quick interview. Since I’d have to do that for the Golden Globes, I watched her technique. It was hard to hear what she asked over the desperate screams of "We love you, Harris!" from the fans behind the security barrier, so I didn’t pay too much attention until suddenly everyone was looking at me.

  My face went red. Harris motioned for me to come over. Slowly, like a man on his way to the electric chair, I walked over to the interviewer. Harris rubbed my arm and smiled at me like I was someone very special. Acting, I supposed. I mean, we'd gotten along on our limo ride to the event, but we mostly talked about basketball. He hadn’t touched me or even flirted.

  “Show us a kiss,” Alberto shouted over the crowd. When I glowered at him, he smiled and gave me the thumb’s up.

  The rest of the crowd took up the chant. “Kiss! Kiss!”

  Why was kissing suddenly de rigueur for gay couples? No one shouted at straight couples to kiss for the camera, but I’d noticed that they always did when the couple was gay or lesbian.

  I shook my head. Harris squeezed my arm tighter.

  The fans demanded. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

  “Come on,” the interviewer purred.

  Harris and I both chuckled sheepishly. I shrugged. He placed world’s most chaste kiss halfway on my lips, halfway on my cheek, like he was greeting his grandmother. The crowd went wild, hooting and clapping. I guess if it was absolutely devoid of passion, a gay kiss was acceptable in public.

  Thankfully, Harris headed into the theater at a crisp pace. I hurried to keep up with him.

  “Sorry, man,” he said, once we got inside. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  “It’s okay.”

  He cocked his head. “As long as they get your name right?”

  “As long as they get your name right. It’s your premier. I don’t care if they call me John Doe.”

  He seemed pleasantly surprised. “Sorry, man. You’ve burst onto the scene so quickly that, for a moment there, I wondered if you had some kind of agenda. That wasn’t fair of me. You’re the one doing me a favor.” He gave me the bad boy looking for forgiveness look, complete with a bowed head and a cheeky grin. “Sorry. I’m not always such an asshole. Or at least I try not to be. You’re really kind of cool, you know?”

  I did the airhead expression. “Well, my pretend boyfriend is Harris Smith. That’s, like, totally worth double bonus cool points.”

  “I’m, like, totally going to steal that character from you. My next job is a voiceover for an animated film.” He mimicked my vacant stare.

  “Totally cool. What’s the project?”

  “Like, Romeo and Juliet, man, except that the Capulets are cats and the Montagues are dogs. I can’t wait to read the reviewer’s reaction to Romeo as a surfer dude dog.” I made a face. He cracked up. “Okay. Maybe not.”

  ***

  “So, I hate to ask, but did you like the film?” Harris asked when we were at the after party.

  We were standing around a swimming pool at a house in the Hollywood Hills with the director and one of the producers. The pool was designed to look as if the far edge of the water met the sky. Pretty, but nerve-wracking. I stuck to the patio near the house in case the hillside below it decided to give way, even though it wasn’t mudslide season.

  I tore my gaze from the pool. “I liked the twists. A few of them kept me fooled up until the end. The pace was good. No slow spots. It’ll do well in the holiday releases. Is it coming out Thanksgiving weekend?”

  The producer nodded. “Over eight hundred screens. We can get that kind of wide release because the distributor trusts Harris’ name.”

  “So you don’t think this whole coming out thing will hurt the box office?” I asked.

  The director cleared his throat. “It’s a whole new world. People are taking it more in stride than they used to. Look at what happened when that soap opera didn’t let their gay couple have a Christmas kiss like all the straight couples. The fans protested!” He shook his head in wonder. “The world’s changing.”

  “It’s about time,” the producer ad
ded.

  That answer sounded rehearsed. Harris and I exchanged bemused smiles.

  “The next thing you know, cats and dogs will be playing Romeo and Juliet.” I winked at Harris.

  There was a commotion in the house. Everyone looked. I shrank back. The front door hung open at a weird angle, as if the hinges were broken. Hector stumbled through the guests, who jumped out of his way. No one needed to see his aura to know he was furious. Even though I tried to hide behind Harris, he saw me, and staggered out to the pool.