by Tara Spears
I walked into the squat blue glass building that held Dr. Greene’s office leaning heavily on my cane. I could walk without it but I wasn’t ready to let it go yet. As long as I needed it, I was unable to work. Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.
I couldn’t say the reception area was cheerful. Dour was more like it. Everything in rich maroon, deep green and dark wood. The plants were fake and plentiful, while the lighting was jaundice. The bookish looking receptionist was so detached, she came off cold. It was as if she might catch whatever the patients had if she unclenched her jaw.
Probably just needed a good fuck— ten minutes with me would loosen the bitch up. The thought had me immediately moaning down deep. I felt the raunchy monster inside me stir and rake its claws across my ribcage. That took all of five minutes in a public place.
I had no sooner slumped into a chair than I was frigidly instructed to head through the paneled dark wood door by the uptight twat. Fuckin’ A, and the monster had come out to play. Where better than here, right?
I could already tell I wouldn’t like Dr. Greene. He hadn’t even had the courtesy to retrieve a new patient in person. I waltzed through the door into a starchy office of blue and gold. Not exactly calming colors when joined together, I noted wryly.
I almost laughed out loud when I caught sight of, presumably, Dr. Greene standing behind a large mahogany desk. He was the spitting image of Larry Fine, if Larry wore tortoise shell glasses that is.
“Mr. Grey. May I call you Trey?”
“Whatever you desire, Doc.”
“What is the cane for, Trey? Were you recently injured?” He indicated the mustard-gold couch, and I sat down while he settled in to the powder-blue Queen Anne chair across from me.
“No. Actually, I suffered a breakdown and ended up in a psychological coma for several days,” I explained. “That should be in your notes.” I gestured to the file perched on his knee.
“Five days actually, and it is. I wanted to hear it from you.” He wrote something down then set his leather binder on an oval imprinted table before tenting his fingers. I couldn’t decide if that had been an asshole move, or brilliant on the Doc’s part.
“Trey, did Dr. Tolstay explain to you why you were referred to me?”
“No, I received the schedule and directions to your office, so here I am.”
He took a long whistling breath through his nose and nodded once. “I’m a sexual therapist. More specifically, I specialize in the treatment of sexually abused teens.”
“Ah, Fuck.” Touché, Dr. Tolstay. I started laughing. The man didn’t look like he had much experience when it came to sex, in or out of the bedroom, and I found that hilarious for some reason. He ignored my outburst. It probably wasn’t the first time someone had cackled at him in his office. I doubted it would be my last.
The first session was short and not so sweet. Dr. Greene informed me we would be talking solely about my sexual abuse as a child. That was it. Nothing else. Well, and everything that twined into that abuse at the time it was going on. Or so he thought. He hoped to find the root of my current dislike of myself. I could tell him that in ten minutes and we could sit and play Parcheesi the rest of the appointments. But no, this was just a get to know you meeting.
Yet, when I walked out of his office I didn’t feel like he knew one damn thing about me other than what I had already told Dr. Tolstay. Typical therapist. By the end of the session you’re right back where you started, and didn’t work out a damn thing.
By the time I pulled kitten into the terraced back lot at the restaurant, I had forgotten all about Dr. Greene and was focused on the fajitas I was about to put away. I winced as I glided kitten between two SUVs. The only consolation was the fact both were newer, expensive, and pristine. I hoped they weren’t so new the drivers just hadn’t had a chance to hit anything yet.
I left my cane, and climbed out of kitten, knowing I could no longer lean on it. Upon entering the adobe archway of the restaurant, I was more annoyed than surprised to see a small herd waiting to be seated. It wasn’t even Friday night and the place was crowded.
I debated, un-enthusiastically, about trying somewhere else. In the end I wound up with my ass on a green pleather bench, waiting like everyone else.
I was leaning my elbows on my knees looking at the terra cotta brick floor for no reason other than it was there, when two flouncy girls sat on either side of me and shoved their hips into mine.
“You are c.u.t.e,” said the blond.
“Ahh, Candy, cute doesn’t work on him. He’s luscious,” explained the gum popping brunette as she blithely ran a hand up my arm.
“And you two look like jail bait to me,” I commented with much less enthusiasm than they were showing. They laughed.
“Candy’s eighteen and I’m nineteen.” She leaned in, feathering my hair back with her lavender nails until her matching lips were almost pressed to my ear. “Can’t buy beer but legal enough to screw.”
“And you are?” I asked giving her a sidelong glance while still leaning casually onto my knees.
“Tammy, and what’s your name?” she asked popping her gum over her tongue.
I might have actually found her attractive if not for the chawing issue. She had nice tits, and her eyes had that soft smoky look to them. Not that I would ever fuck her. I leaned back, glancing from one to the other, then smiled at them apologetically.
“Sorry ladies, you are not my type.” It was the easiest thing to say to get them off my scent.
They both flopped back next to me, and then called in unison, “Justin, you were wrong, he’s gay.” And now the whole restaurant knows it too. The blond added, “You owe us dinner.”
I was a bet? Funny! Grinning, I ran a hand through my hair as patrons turned to look, and some to snicker. They didn’t bother me. The guy wandering over carrying the cocky smile had a smidge of my attention however. Perfectly-spiked gold hair, arresting blue eyes, and rather nicely put together. He was a tall, athletic type that no doubt had been an “A” lister in high school, driving both boys and girls wild.
“He’s not gay.” He had a cocky attitude to go with the smile. How quaint.
I tipped my head and gathered him up. “Neither are you,” I replied slyly. We were teasing each other of course. His smile went from cocky to genuine as he extended his hand.
“Justin.”
I clasped his hand. “Trey.” There wasn’t a tingle of any kind, no electric current, but his hand was warm, strong, and soft, and heat traveled in a slow burn across my skin.
The girls were chatting over the top of me about whether Justin was right, my appearance, and other equally important things, sounding like shallow daddy’s girls. I, however, was pondering something else. Whether the bulge almost level with my eye line was real or falsely enhanced.
If it was real, that meant he was bigger than me, and I was pretty damn big. When more than a few tricks have exclaimed over the size of your tool, you’ve earned the right to be arrogant about your cock. But then I didn’t know a successful male in the trade who wasn’t well hung.
He carried himself with the confidence of someone incredibly well endowed so I gave him the benefit.
“Sorry about them.” His fingers flipped to the girls. “When you walked in they went all flitterpated.”
“Flitterpated. Is that a real word?” I asked seriously, folding my hands in my lap.
“It is when referring to them.”
He pulled his arms into his chest in mock defense as sounds of indignation erupted from the two girls. Candy smacked his hip with her hot pink purse, and he ducked away, laughing. He had a really nice laugh. Not too deep, with an edge of roughness that made it genuine.
“So, Trey, you waiting on anyone?” Justin asked when Candy’s attack ended and she plopped back next to me.
I shook my head. “Nope. Alone. Sad, I know.”
Candy squealed in my ear, leaving it ringing and me cringing.
“Girls, I
think he should join us, don’t you?”
Another ear piercing screech, and head bobbing from both. I considered this for about a second. I decided as long as I wasn’t seated next to Candy, it might be nice to hang. It wasn’t as if I would ever see them again. Justin was looking at me expectantly, a crooked smile on his tan face, and an eyebrow raised ridiculously high.
“On one condition.” I turned toward Tammy. “Get rid of the gum.”
She opened her mouth, looking incensed, as Justin laughed.
“How many times have I told you how un-attractive that is?” he said, pointing a chiding finger at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Gad, now there are two of them.” She did, however, get up and throw her gum away in a fake plant.
A few short minutes later found us seated with our orders taken. I loved that about this restaurant. If you didn’t need the menu, and knew what you wanted, you could have your food ten minutes after being seated. Besides, who doesn’t know the basics served in every Mexican restaurant? Rice, beans and something else. Easy. Except I omit the rice.
I mean, come on. If you take your girl to Mexican you already know you will wake up the next morning with the room smelling like someone crapped the bed. Reserve the rice for Oriental food and eat more beans. They’re a helluva good source of protein, which a person might need for a fart ridden fuck following their meal.
We chattered about the mundane things everyone chats about as we waited for our food. They all went to BCC, the local community college. As community colleges go, BCC was, admittedly, one of the best. They gave me a bad time for attending U.W. Calling me too smart for my own good, and I didn’t deny it.
Our food arrived, and we spent a few minutes stuffing our faces appreciatively. The food here was fantastic and the reason why the place was packed, obviously. Tammy picked a few green peppers and chicken off my skillet. I didn’t mind. It was something a friend would do, and the fact she was comfortable enough to go there didn’t escape me. I found myself laughing easily and relaxed into the easy banter.
“We’re headed to a party. Want to come?” Justin asked as he rolled an empty glass around on the table.
“Please come. Please, please, please...” Tammy stopped, and stared at me with big expectant eyes.
“What kind of party? Drugs, drinking, sex?” I asked casually, except I actually wanted to know what I was getting into before answering.
“Definitely,” Justin said.
I chuckled and shook my head.
“It’s just a house party. Lot’s of booze and some sex. No big deal,” he added, but averted his eyes to the glass and shifted in his seat, causing me to wonder what he wasn’t saying.
I’d attended a few house and dorm parties when I first arrived at the U.W., and decided they were not my thing. Alcohol induced orgies basically, whether the sex happened in the open or behind closed doors.
“Sure. Why not,” I found myself saying as I tugged out my wallet. I tossed thirty bucks on the table as I stood up. “I’ve gotta use the john. I’m parked out back. Where are you?”
Justin grinned. “Cool. Out back, so we’ll meet you there.”
After a refreshing piss and thorough wash, I slipped a smoke between my lips as I headed out the ornately carved door. I walked smack into a spectacular orange and sapphire twilight like only Seattle could render. Lighting my smoke, I snapped the Zippo closed and headed towards Justin and the girls. They were leaning on a decent seventy-seven red and gold Firebird. I slid the Zippo into my pocket and whistled appreciatively.
“Nice ride.” I liked mine better, but I respected nice car flesh.
“Thanks. I’m pretty proud of Fawkes.” He rubbed a hand down the front fender affectionately.
“Fawkes? Where do I know that from?” I tried to recall the familiar name.
The girls laughed while Justin smiled sheepishly.
“Harry Potter. It was Dumbledore’s phoenix. The movies began appearing the same time I got him. The name stuck.” He shrugged.
I grinned and nodded. Geek. However, I had seen all seven of the movies. What could I say... they’re entertaining.
“Where are you parked?” Candy asked.
I swiveled around and pointed to kitten. The SUVs had departed, leaving her unscathed from what I could see. She now sat between an MG and a Mercedes, dominating the area aggressively. Justin made a little squeak and I thought he was going to come right there. Tammy ran over, and laid on kitten’s rear end despite the spoiler.
“Get off her. She’s a virgin and you’re scaring her,” I yelled, trying to keep it a light rebuke. She didn’t really listen, instead rolling onto her back. She looked dreamily at me as I walked over.
“These cars always turn me on. Can I ride with you?” she asked hopefully.
“No. Not after you just said that!” I chuckled, even though I wasn’t amused.
Tammy scoffed at me, looking hurt.
“I told you kitten’s a virgin. She has a reprobation towards sex.”
She mulled that over for a moment, and I could actually see the dust her mind kicked up as it tried to gain another gear.
“You’ve never had sex in your car?” Tammy asked.
I shook my head. Her brow creased, and Candy blurted, “Oh my God, he’s a virgin.”
Justin jumped in, “Shut up, Candy, he is not a virgin. I find that rather noble actually.”
Candy again, “I don’t get it.”
Tammy stepped in front of me and gazed into my eyes with her hands planted on her hips. “Do you have an aversion to sex?” she asked soberly.
“No,” I lied. Well, not an all out lie. I only had an aversion to certain components of sex. On the rare— okay— very rare occasion, I liked the act itself, I just didn’t do well with the after-party.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. Tammy, you drive Fawkes, and if it’s okay with Trey, I’ll ride with him.”
My insides screwed up over this. It’s just a baby step and you need to take them, I told myself.
“If that isn’t as empty as a glass,” Candy said, and we all glanced at her, lost. She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. “He just wants to fuck you, Trey.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. “Doesn’t everybody,” I said on a sigh. “All right, Justin with me.” Then I added, “Keep your hands to yourself in my car.”
I fished out my keys as Justin tossed his behind his back to Tammy, and I heard Candy huffing all the way back to the Firebird. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. This is what normal college kids do, Trey. Yeah, fuck it. I knew the worst that could happen and I’d deal with that later.
Once we were confined in my car, Justin’s attitude shifted. He became nervous. His leg bouncing while his eyes stayed glued to the city outside the passenger window.
“You’re about to pile drive your foot through my floor pan. What’s up?” I asked.
He began picking at a loose thread along his thigh while he kept the back of his head to me.
“You’re not really a virgin are you?” he asked slowly, and I couldn’t stop the laughter from spitting out. “I mean, I know your not, but how much experience do you have?”
I wasn’t sure where he was headed with this, so I answered pretty damn honestly.
“More than you.”
He snorted indignantly. “I doubt that.”
“I don’t.”
He was quiet as we tailed his Firebird. Kitten rolled to a stop at a red light, and he spoke again.
“If you want to drop me off and leave, it’s okay. You don’t have to come in.”
I grinned under my fist. He must think I’m a good boy.
“I’ve been to a few college parties. I’ll be fine.”
He moved then, whipping his head to look at me.
“This isn’t your average frat party. This group can get a little rough and you are ju-st pretty enough to cause a ruckus. You’re a nice guy and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He was serious, and
seriously worried about me. How cute was that?
“As long as no one gets sacrificed, and thirteen year olds aren’t being fucked in dark corners, I’m good,” I said. He shook his head but his brow remained scrunched. “Honestly, Justin, I’ve seen things that would shrivel your balls and send you running.”
“I doubt that,” he said quietly.
“I don’t,” I replied, almost as quietly.
We pulled down a long pine-needled drive to a modest grey and white rambler surrounded by a copse of firs. The scene before me didn’t appear ominous at all. People from eighteen to later-twenties wandered around outside, carrying Solo cups, bottles of beer, and other spirits. A redhead in a redder bra was thrown over a burly boy’s shoulder and both were laughing as he spun her around.
I parked next to Fawkes on the grass. Kitten was far enough away from the house I figured no one would mess with her, yet close enough I would hear her very loud alarm if anyone did. Justin and I climbed from the car, and he looked over her striped roof at me.
“Last chance, Trey.”
Jesus, the guy was finally starting to weird me out.
“Am I going to be killed? Wind up dead somewhere?” I asked him.
His eyes widened just a hair. “No, nothing like that.”
“Then I’m not worried, so you can stop being creepy now.”
I shut kitten’s door, and set her alarm. The girls were already across the deck and slipping into the house. Justin grabbed his keys off Fawkes’s roof, while I waited for him on the other side of his car watching people drinking, and being very merry in the yard. I didn’t realize Justin had come over until he shoved me against Fawkes, pinning me there. His head came down, and his tongue hit my tonsils.
I kept my hands braced behind me on the fender, letting him try to scare me, because that was exactly what he was trying to do. When he began to pull away, I took hold of his lower lip between my teeth, and forced his eyes open before letting him go.
“You did say to keep my hands off you in your car.” His eyes were challenging me. We stood two inches from each other, neither moving. We were so close I could smell vanilla, coconut, and some sort of antisepticy soap on him. It was a rather odd combo. Like a medicinal Mai Tai.
