by A. J. Blake
The black-haired, chestnut skinned woman had a wide, joyful smile on her face, hair bundled up in a sloppy bun atop her head, and she was dressed in jean shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top with an open buttoned shirt on top of it. Seeing her for the first time in so long, London hated what he saw as she approached. His mother used to be such a gorgeous Israeli/Caucasian woman with strict morals and Jewish belief, but the moment she’d been lured into a love life with the likes of London’s Old Man, all of that went away when she got married to…him. Now she was much skinnier than she once was, thin with sunken cheeks and flat hair. Elaine Ramm was no longer the woman she used to be before TJ Dawncraft entered her life, and in no way did she look ready to change her life.
From the driver side then, following his mother, came a brunette woman about the same age, early forties, clothed as well in shorts and a crop top showing off her pierced bellybutton.
“London!” his mother squealed in joy, “My beautiful, boy, I haven’t seen you in ages!”
“Oh, wow, Elaine,” the woman accompanying London’s mother said, “You really know how to make a baby.”
Elaine rounded the vehicle, closing the distance between her and London with every step she took. When she was too close for comfort, coming in for an embrace, London stepped back, wielding a look of confusion melded with disgust. “What are you...?” he started, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Elaine didn’t come off as discouraged by her eldest son’s question, “I live here,” she said, “What do you mean?”
London couldn’t believe this, “I mean, you’ve been gone for nearly three years and you’re no longer welcome in this house. This is my house.”
“He’s attractive and all,” Elaine’s friend said, “But he’s a bit rude.”
London glared at the woman in the back, “And who the hell are you?”
“I’m Julia, sweetie, nice to meet you.”
Knowing this was someone Elaine has been traveling with for so long searching for high pissed London off to no end. This woman didn’t belong on the road with another junkie, injecting herself with toxins, she belonged in rehab getting help.
A second later, another car pulled up along the curb in front of the house. It was a gloss black Fisker Karma, the windows were down, and Marbell was sat behind the steering wheel. “Fuck,” London said under his breath.
Hearing the car pull up as well, Elaine switched her attention to it, “Oh, my god. Is this a friend of yours?” she asked, making her way towards it, and then over her shoulder, she added, “You must have a lot of friends in the right places.”
“Elaine, wait!” London called after his mother, but she didn’t seem to hear him.
Marbell looked from London to the woman approaching his car, giving her a small smile as not to come off rude. “Hello,” Elaine stuck her hand out for Marbell to take. He did. “You’re a friend of London’s? You’re so cute, too. What are you, a millionaire?”
“Uh, London and I are friends,” Marbell said, “I was just coming to pick him up.”
Elaine looked back at her son, “You didn’t tell me you were getting ready to leave.”
London had had enough of the woman, “You’re the one who needs to leave, Elaine. You are not welcome here anymore.” He locked the front door of the house and tucked the key in his pocket. Moving passed her, he stopped at the passenger door of the Fisker Karma and opened it. “If I find you still here by the time I get back, I will make you leave. Both of you.”
Elaine clearly wasn’t taking London’s anger seriously, “Fine, where is your dad? I’m sure he’d be happy to see me.”
“Fucking shit, are you serious?” London shook his head, “He’s in prison, and you know that. Why don’t you go visit him?” Plopping down in the seat now, London looked at Marbell, and said, “Please, drive.”
Down the street, London turned to look out the back window, watching as the women got back into the station wagon.
“I’m just going to guess and say that was your mother?” Marbell said, shattering the silence.
“Yeah...”
“She was, uh, nice.”
London just let his head rest back, the disbelief still fresh as ever. “I hope wherever you plan on taking me really gets this off my mind.”
Marbell took London’s hand, kissing his hard knuckles, “I hope so, too.”
VII – Scar
Marbell had taken London to a French restaurant for their date, and while they were seated in their booth, it wasn’t hard to tell London had other things on his mind. Glad to have the twenty-one-year-old with him, of course, Marbell wanted this time they had together to be enjoyable, but with the saddened expression going on about London’s face, he was no longer sure of it.
They were seated in a booth centered in a section of others in the middle of the restaurant. Upon coming inside, they received a couple glances from other guests, ones of both curiosity and judgement, but Marbell tried not to let it bother him. London had not noticed any of the people around him, and Marbell was even beginning to think he was forgetting they were there together.
To bring life to the silence, Marbell reached across the table top, letting his fingers sweep across London’s, “Do you like this place?” he asked.
Coming out of his noted haze, London looked up at the teacher, and then around the restaurant next as if it was his first time seeing the place. “Yeah,” he said, “It’s nice. I’m more of a basic fast food kind of guy, but gourmet service is never bad.”
Marbell smiled, “This is my favorite place in the city. I usually come here alone after school.”
“You better be careful,” London joked, “Someone might know you’re skipping and call you in.”
“If this table wasn’t between us,” Marbell laughed, cheeks blushing, “I’d kiss you right now.”
London, definitely not seeing the table as an adversary, stood a bit and leaned across the surface, kissing Marbell’s smirking lips before sitting back down.
The teacher couldn’t help feeling so wanted and appreciated by this other man, especially when London took one of his hands just to hold it. His gaze swept over the few people around them then, a young couple not caring about the public display, but there was a table with an elderly couple that didn’t seem to like it very much. Not that Marbell or London gave a fuck.
A minute later, their waiter came to the table to take their orders. It wouldn’t have taken as long as it did if London knew anything about French food. Needless to say, he ended up playing it safe and ordering the only typical American food they had: a burger and fries, while Marbell got something with a name that London couldn’t pronounce for the life of him. But, if there was one thing he knew, it was that he was mighty turned on by the way the sexy French accent rolled off Marbell’s tongue.
Folding his hands professor-like on top of the table, Marbell finally said, “So, tell me about yourself. I want to know more about you.”
London sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, only the tattooed sleeves of his forearms shown. “What do you want to know?”
Marbell hummed, thinking a moment, “Have you ever been in love?”
Scoffing at the question, London answered quickly, “Hell no,” then he thought about it. “Actually, I correct myself, in second grade, I think, there was this boy who would always share his goldfish and cookies with me under the slide. Man, if that’s not the closest thing to love, I don’t know what is.”
The answer was enough to make the teacher laugh, and then, he said, “Okay, what about...your tattoos.” He pointed one out on London’s wrist. It was a small black and grey humming bird with a flower sash.
London looked over the permanent ink drawn into his skin, “It’s for my sister Joyce. She started learning how to talk real late. The most she ever did was grunt or whine when she was trying to communicate. When I’d try to get her to use her words more, I bought this book of animals so she could learn too, and the first one she got right was t
he humming bird. And the flowers are just because she likes flowers. She still doesn’t talk much like you would think a four-year-old should, but she’s getting there.”
Marbell touched the bird again, “Do all of your tattoos have stories?”
“No, honestly” London said, “Clearly you’ve seen the grim reaper skull covering my whole back?”
“Yeah, I think it’s pretty sexy.”
“Well, I got that just because I like skulls and I think they’re cool. One of my old friends designed it for me, and I got it tattooed by his boyfriend. It took so fucking long, and hurt like hell in the beginning, but you learn to block it out. I just enjoy art on the body in general, to be honest. The sword on the back of my bicep is just there because I liked it, same with the pirate ship at the top of my right thigh.”
“With your arms and back covered, and your legs nearly there, you must be addicted to getting tattoos.”
“I’m not going to lie about that. Once I left home when I did, I had this guy I lived with for a while who did most of the ones on my arms and legs for me as long as I brought him the ink needed, and as you can tell, he’s really good at it. Just don’t ask me how I got the money to afford the ink since that stuff is pretty expensive as it is. Being an escort, okay, I’m not too ashamed of that, but past me was a pretty big disappointment.”
Deciding not to go down that path of questions, Marbell asked another one. “You only stayed with that guy for a while? Where’d you stay before or after that?”
“Uh,” London shrugged, “I did live with my uncle on my mom’s side for a month or so, but when he proved to be a complete homophobic asswipe like every other motherfucker, I started staying with friends, that guy being one. Even holed up in a dorm over at the northwest university for a couple semesters after getting on the good side of a senior supervisor. Well, I guess I can tell you how I made my money. I wish I hadn’t, but I used to help an old friend of mine sling ecstasy and dope. I know, it’s shitty, but I had to do what I had to do, y’know.”
Marbell wanted to be astonished by London’s confession about his history, but wasn’t going to sit there and judge someone for the life they felt they had to live during a desperate time. After all, he was still a teenager at the time. So, he just said, “I wish you never had to resort to that kind of lifestyle, but I totally understand why you would. Food, clothes, a place to stay, those things are important. At least you know how to take care of yourself.”
“That’s something you’ve got to be good at when your parents are irresponsible, dumbass idiots who wouldn’t think twice if they forgot you on an active train track.”
Their food arrived after a couple minutes, and quickly London wished he hadn’t ordered something that clearly wasn’t meant to be made in a French restaurant. Picking at the fries, he said, “Can I ask you some questions?”
Marbell didn’t seem sure about it at first, but nodded anyway, “Go for it.”
“What do you do besides teaching?” London started. “That money has got to be coming from some place, and it damn sure isn’t coming from my brother’s school.”
It was a safe question so Marbell didn’t waste much time answering. “Have you ever heard of Monroe Flair?”
London thought on it. The name was familiar. It was a brand, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was. “Yes and no,” he said.
“It’s a modeling and P.R. agency. It’s in collaboration with a lot of the top names all around the world. In simplest terms we help book models, provide agencies with new faces, and help businesses make an impact. My father established it when he was around my age, and named me the CEO about a year after I was accepted into Oxford. I didn’t really want to do it, but it wasn’t too challenging, and it was easy to manage around my six year studies.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” London pushed his plate away, leaning forward onto the table. “You’re telling me you’re a bonafide Corporate Executive Officer? And I’m just going to assume with all the cash you blow, you make millions a year, but you’re also a high school teacher with a PhD in mathematics.”
Marbell just gave a light chuckle, “That’s pretty much hitting the nail on the head.”
“You do know you just got a hundred times hotter, right?” London said. “What do you for the company as a bigshot CEO?”
“I just develop and implement marketing strategies, I make major corporate decisions, and manage overall operations and tactics, including hiring and pushing new face models into the fashion industry. Nothing gets to my father without going through me and the board of directors first. Since I’m here in Texas majority of the time, I spend most of my free time keeping tabs on how everything is running from afar.”
“Why keep teaching if this has got some major longevity in it?”
“Because,” Marbell shrugged, “I wanted to be a teacher before my father dumped managing a business into my lap. Math is my forte, I just also happen to be good at making vital business decisions. When I can’t see you for days at a time, it’s usually for my being stuck in New York dealing with people who never seem to know what they’re doing. My father hates that I landed a teaching job here of all places, especially since its so far from New York, but he lets me do as I please so long as it doesn’t get in the way of Monroe Flair.”
“Jesus and I thought my life was busy. I almost feel like I should kiss you again just for being a hard worker.”
“Or you could kiss me because I want you to.”
Meeting Marbell’s lips with his, London could almost physically feel himself falling for the teacher. The pound of his heart struck his chest harder, and the admiration he had for Marbell deepened. London couldn’t believe it, but he was unquestionably sure that Marbell would be the first person he ever fell in love with. The man held him spellbound with his undeniable charms, and London wasn’t looking forward to these bounds breaking anytime soon.
After lunch at the restaurant, Marbell drove London back to his home. Having just struck three o’clock in the afternoon, Henry wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half, so London took it upon himself to invite the teacher inside. “It’s no mansion,” he said, closing the door behind him, “Meaning, it’s kind of shitty, but, please, make yourself at home.”
Placing his car keys on the low table in the living room, Marbell said, “We’ve got, what, a little while until your brother comes home off the bus? What do you want to do to waste time?”
London didn’t bother with the ‘playing hard to get’ games and began unbuttoning his shirt. “We could always have sex, y’know.”
“There is always that,” Marbell smiled. He went for his belt, yanking it through the loops of his slacks. Before he could halfway undress like he usually did, London had the man in his arms, carrying him to the back bedroom. It never failed to surprise London about how easy it was to carry Marbell, as well. They were practically the same size, London just having a bit more muscle mass about his figure.
With Marbell’s legs coiled around his waist, London supporting the weight with his hands gripped under the man’s ass, he set Marbell down when they reached his room, and stripped down to his boxers. He helped Marbell out of his pants, letting them slid off the foot of the bed.
London’s eyes did a once over of the person in his bed, aroused by the anticipation in Marbell’s eyes. The man’s glasses glinted for a second in the light of the sun coming through the bedroom window, giving a dull shine to his short, auburn hair, and also brought out the delicate angles in his soft face. Marbell wasn’t feminine in the least, he simply had young features, resembling to London what a college student in their first or second year would look like. Still in their late teens.
London showered the teacher in kisses from his head to his toes, always coming back to his mouth when the need to taste his lips crept up on him. He hooked his arms around Marbell’s waist then, and pulled the man onto his lap. London couldn’t help his fingers from inching into the underneath of Marbell’
s shirt, riddling his neck with attention before Marbell noticed where London’s hands were going.
“Wait,” Marbell protested, “Please, not there.”
London leaned back on his palms as Marbell sat atop him, “Why are you so afraid of me seeing what’s under your shirt? Do you think I’m going to judge if your body isn’t the tightest? Marbell, I don’t care what it is. Just...” he ran his thumb gently along the teacher’s chin, kissing his lips and then jawline, “...let me see you for you.”
A minute of debate went by before Marbell gave in to the puppy dog plea in London’s stare. With how cautious he was in doing so, Marbell reached for the first button on his navy shirt and undid it, slowly following down the row of black buttons until they were all undone. He continued to hold the shirt closed, and said, “I won’t make you promise not to throw up.”
When Marbell negated to remove the shirt on his own, London reached for his hands and pulled them away gently, sliding the navy shirt from over Marbell’s shoulders until he was completely unclothed. What rest across one half of Marbell’s chest was something London hadn’t expected. It was a long healed burn scar that started at the top of his left breast, and stretched all the way down to his belly button. The scar was about five or eight or nine inches wide, covering a large canvas of his torso.
London gradually reached out and touched the textured skin, glancing up to meet Marbell’s wary eyes. And then London did something Marbell had not anticipated.
Not speaking a single word, London laid Marbell back onto the bed and kissed every inch of the blemish, not once hesitating to assure the teacher that any bodily flaw he thought he had wouldn’t make him any less desirable. Then London guided himself to what he’d sought after before, and took Marbell entirely into his mouth, sucking until the peak was reached. But he didn’t want Marbell to come just yet. He wanted to be able to show the teacher that, even with the reveal of his past wound, it changed nothing about how bad London wanted him.
