by TL Gehr
He steps back, his gaze slips away from mine. “Do you know where the restroom is?”
I need to pull myself together. “Yeah, uh, it’s down there.” Where he nearly punched Chase.
He nods. “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
19
Brian
My blood is roaring as I press my way through the crowds and I am hard, hard, hard. Did Philip see? Oh god. This is awful. This is like high school all over again. And like at high school, the only thing I can think to do is hide in the bathroom until it goes down.
I find the corridor for the bathroom near where I found Philip and Chase earlier. Part of the conversation that I overheard is still echoing in my ears.
“…Once you’ve had your fun with your bit of rough. You’ll come back to me, because no one understands you like I do.”
“I’ll never come back to you. You broke my heart.”
He’s still raw, still hurting. That’s why he’s single. That’s why, as if there weren’t a million other reasons, he shouldn’t know how turned on I am by him.
The bathroom doesn’t have any sign indicating it’s gender specific. I push open the heavy wooden door and the first thing I notice is that the bathroom is full of people, but the people aren’t doing their business. Two are draped over a sofa, one is in front of the mirror.
My boner instantly vanishes, because the next thing I notice is the white powder that the person by the mirror is chopping. Then I see the syringe in the arm of the girl draped over the sofa.
“Hey,” she says, in a lazy, drugged-up voice. “It’s Arrigo’s new beau.”
She’s got black hair and a red dress. She’s not one of Philip’s friends. I’m frozen in the doorway, I can’t make myself move. I can’t make myself look away from the syringe as her friend withdraws it from her skin.
“You want some, handsome?”
Yes. Yes, I absolutely do. How much easier would all of this be if I was high? I could make a much better impression on Philip’s friends if I was pumped up with false confidence, light-headed, at peace with myself. And it would be free, no scrounging, offered up by this beautiful siren. These rich folk are handing drugs out like candy. And if I keep hanging around them, I could get more. I’d never have to quit again.
The girl shifts forward. “Hey, you okay?”
I turn and run.
I push through the claustrophobic throng until I find Philip. He’s mid-conversation with Triston when I grab his arm. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”
I don’t give him a chance to ask why. I only catch the “o” his mouth makes before I’m already fighting my way to the door. Even now my body is yearning for the stuff. My whole being wants me to go back into that room and shoot up. I’m trembling with the effort not to.
When I eventually get outside, icy air hits me in the face and I suck it in, tasting salt. We must be near the ocean. I pull my phone out of my pocket. The battery’s almost dead. I try to find the number for the cab that I saved earlier.
I shiver as I walk around the building and not with cold. The voices in my head are demanding I go back. Stop fighting. Just go back, get high, be with Philip.
I manage to find the number and call but it beeps loudly in my ear. This number does not exist.
“Shit!” I must have saved it wrong. With shaking hands, I try to call up Uber, but the app crashes because my phone is a piece of crap.
Okay, I’ll keep walking. Hail a cab. That’s a thing people do here in the city. I stalk ahead, look up and see… New York City. The buildings glitter bright orange across what must be the East River. The top of the Empire State Building is like a little Christmas Tree and the streetlights look like tinsel far beneath it. My breath catches at the magnificence of it. What a waste that we couldn’t see any of this from inside that dark underworld of a club.
“Brian!”
I turn. Philip is jogging up behind me, his cheeks flushed pink. When he comes to a stop, he’s panting. “You okay?”
I shake my head and turn back to the view.
“What’s up? Can I do anything?”
He stays beside me as I continue to walk along the road. I need to keep moving. The craving feels all-powerful. Worse even than the other night. I shake my head again.
“Did I do something…?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “No, Philip. I just needed to get away.”
“Did Chase do something?” He’s not going to let this go.
“No.” Even though the path we’re on is lit and skyscrapers stretch up in every direction, dark trees surround us and it feels like we’re the only people in the world. My tongue feels heavy. “When I went to the bathroom… there were people using. I mean, taking drugs.”
“Oh.” Philip’s step falters. “I’m sorry I didn’t think… you didn’t strike me as the conservative type. I mean, that sounds bad. I just mean if I’d known that sort of thing would disturb you, I would have warned you there might be some of that.”
Par for the course at this type of event. I should have guessed without him having to tell me.
“Not conservative.” I pause. With a deep breath, I stretch out my arm and pull up my sleeve. I want to shrivel up with shame and disintegrate into dust. I can’t look at Philip. My eyes stay locked on the track marks. “I’m a recovering heroin addict. I can’t be around drug use.”
“Oh…” he says again.
I yank down the sleeve and stalk forward. “You don’t have to say anything.”
He keeps pace with me. “I was just going to say that explains the jacket. And the long sleeves at work even when I had the heat on. I thought you ran super cold or something.”
“I’ve been sober for a while. I’m not gonna go on a binge and wreck your business if you’re worried about that.”
“No, I didn’t think you—I didn’t think that.”
We continue on. The path takes us onto a pier—a touristy spot for admiring the view. I don’t know what time it is, but it must be late. The view is all ours.
“I’m sorry I ruined your night. You should go back. You didn’t have to leave with me.”
I still can’t look at him, even though I can feel his presence beside me. He pulls me gently around to face him. I stare at his shirt, humiliation crawling down my body. I’m trash. Chase saw it immediately, Jones probably saw it too. Philip has no business standing here with me.
He tilts my chin up, to bring my gaze to his. His blue eyes reflect the lights of the city. “I’ve heard giving up heroin is one of the hardest things there is.”
“It’s not easy,” I admit.
“I admire you for managing it.”
Then he kisses me.
The touch of his lips sends an electric jolt right through me. My cock, that had blessedly gone back to sleep, immediately stirs to attention. My skin sizzles. I open my mouth to his and before I even know what I’m doing, my hands are tangling in his hair, threading through his beautiful curls. He makes a sound of pleasure as his arms wrap around me and he squeezes so that we’re pressed together and I can feel him down the length of me. He deepens the kiss, his mouth firm, his tongue darting against mine. A current travels under my skin, setting all my nerves alight.
He backs me against the railing. I run a hand up his chest, but it’s not enough. I need skin. He pulls away just long enough to breathe, and then he holds my face in his hands as he kisses me over and over. I’m rock hard now and my hunger for him has reached a fever.
Philip is kissing me. Philip wants me.
I tug his shirt free from his belt and reach under to feel his warm skin. Is this going too far? We’re alone here, but there’s a difference between kissing and starting to undress him. My pulse is racing so hard, my mind is a mess. What if I were to sink to my knees and blow him, right here on this pier in front of the whole of New York? The thought curls around my senses, intoxicating in its vulgarity. Exciting in its wrongness.
Bit of rough.
Philip is a nice guy
. You don’t fuck nice guys in public just after they kissed you.
Our lips slide against each other and Philip moans as I caress his belly. This is enough, control yourself, Brian. Philip kisses the corner of my mouth, my chin, then he’s running his tongue down my throat. It’s taking physical effort to keep my hand from straying further down, into his jeans.
Behave. Be classy. Behave.
Philip sinks to his knees.
My heart skips, then gallops. He’s unbuckling me.
What?
I’m straining against my jeans and as Philip frees me, he looks up with that little furrow between his eyebrows.
Is he asking permission?
The night air is cold against my burning skin, I’m glistening with precum.
How is this happening?
I nod and Philip wraps my cock in his hand. I let out an audible gasp as he jerks me.
He gazes up at me. “Thank you for coming tonight.”
“I haven’t yet.”
He grins. “I really appreciate it.”
And then he slips my cock into his hot, hot mouth. My heart is pounding so hard I feel giddy. He takes the head first and I have to grab his shoulder for support because my legs completely forget to hold my weight as his tongue swishes around the tip. His hands slide round to my ass. He holds the cheeks while he sucks me deeper.
“God, you’re amazing.” My voice is little more than breath, my throat tight with pleasure.
He hums, sending another thrill up through me, then slides me against his velvety tongue and gently sucks. My hands fist in his hair, even though I’m trying my best to be gentle. I’ve never felt anything like this. The wild sweep of desire for him, meeting the physical reality in such harmony of joy and pleasure. And here, with the whole city as my witness. How many people are gazing out their windows at this pier? They won’t see us, I know they won’t see us, but the thought of their eyes on us makes me whimper. Philip caresses my balls as he moves his head up and down on my cock. His mouth is so soft… Sounds I’ve never made before, didn’t even know I could make, work their way up from my throat. They seem to encourage him. He quickens his pace, adding his own slurping, humming noises to mine. His hand joins his mouth and he pumps me, milking me while sucking, building up a furious rhythm. He’s so good at this. This is probably the best blow job I’ve ever had.
“Philip… Philip I…” I’m so close, so fucking close. He’s only been at this a few minutes and I can’t hold it in “I’m going to…”
The orgasm crashes into me, hot, bright and all-consuming. It’s like my body is a star going nova. I am everything and nothing all at once. When I come back to myself a second later, he’s swallowing.
I stare at him, breathing heavily, as he cleans me off, wipes his mouth and then tucks me away. He rises, body close. His lips hover near mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. Politeness, I think, given where his lips have just been.
I kiss him and I taste myself. I hold him to me as our tongues twist together again. When we need to breathe, he presses his forehead against mine and laughs. It’s a sweet, gentle sound.
“I’ve never done anything like that before.”
I can feel his erection against my stomach. I reach between us to touch it. Something needs to be done about that. “Do you want to come back to my place?”
Philip sighs and nuzzles against my neck. “I can’t. I have school.”
Even though I’m disappointed, there’s a spark of joy even here, because I know he’s telling me the truth. I’m the only person he tells the truth about that. I kiss him again, long and lingering, while I start at his belt. He halts my hands.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper. It can’t be embarrassment, given what he just did. And it can’t be that I’m moving too fast… given what he just did.
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s absolutely perfect.”
“Let me return the favor.”
He shuts his eyes and his eyelashes tickle my cheeks. “I want to but…”
“But?”
“But there’s nowhere to clean up.”
Little late to worry about that now. “My mouth is somewhere to clean up.”
He laughs again and ducks his head against my neck. His stubble rasps against my cheek. “I will explain. I just… can I explain next time we see each other? I want to hold on to this for now.”
“Yeah, yeah of course.” It would have been easier for him to lie. He didn’t.
I’m blissed out on him, but a tiny dark part of my mind starts whispering doubts. I came in his mouth not five minutes ago, he can’t be squeamish. The obvious answer is that there’s someone he wants to hide this from, there’s someone who can’t see him smelling like sex. Someone he’s going to go home to.
Men like Philip don’t stay single…
No, if there was another guy, I wouldn’t have needed to be here tonight. Besides, I can’t imagine Philip doing that after the way Chase treated him. I wrap my arms around him. I need to trust him. He’s an excellent liar, but he hasn’t lied to me yet.
Philip rests against me while I look out at the view. I try to commit every single detail of this to memory. Philip’s mouth and now Philip’s warm, solid body, the twinkling lights of the city, the smell of the trees, the taste of the night air, the absolute quiet, the only sound Philip’s breathing and my heartbeat in my ears.
I love you, I think, but I don’t dare say. I’ve fallen in love with you.
It’s terrifying. It’s been terrifying since I realized it days ago. Now, though, it’s also wonderful, because there’s a chance he might feel the same. A chance I never dared hope for. I stroke his hair, relishing in the ability to touch it rather than just admiring it. I breathe him in.
Eventually, I bring myself to say, “We should probably go. You should get decent sleep before class.”
He pulls away only enough to see my face. “Are you okay?” he traces the line of my jaw with a fingertip and brushes the pad of his thumb over my lower lip. I must have been frowning.
“A damn sight better than okay.” I smile.
“I meant after, you know, what you witnessed?”
He’s asking about the craving. I nod. It’s ebbed away for now. My body’s no longer trying to make me go back to the party. I have a different kind of high right here in my arms. Distraction doesn’t always work, but sometimes it does.
Philip pulls out his phone and calls the driver.
20
Philip
I get in a little after eleven, which means that the parents are still up. I thank Past Philip for making sure there were mints in the car alongside the sodas that Dad insists they keep for his low blood sugar. And by low blood sugar he really means that he forgets to eat when no one is actually making him sit down to a meal.
I can hear Mom’s voice in the sitting room, so I straighten my jacket and stick my head in.
They have guests. Larry and Janet Jones are sipping tiny coffees in front of the fireplace while Mom regales them with tales of what they missed at the social club while they were in Hawaii. She spots me and stops mid-sentence, holding out her arms.
“Philip, darling. You’re home early?”
I cross the room to give her a kiss and greet Mr. and Mrs. Jones. Mom’s in the black number with the green silk bow from Armani’s Spring collection. It’s a bit boxy for her figure, but it brings focus to her fiery hair. No doubt, the effect is intentional. She spent three hours at the salon yesterday.
Her manicured fingers fasten onto my lapels. “What are you wearing? Is this last year’s Chanel?”
“It is.” Her eye is as good as ever.
“Darling… to Chase’s do?”
I cringe inwardly. “How’d you know it was Chase’s do?”
She nods to her guests. “You were with Barbara weren’t you?”
Jones hates being called by her first name ever since kids at school started calling her Barbie. For a while she was Barbie Dreamhorse. I’d be lying if I sai
d it didn’t suit her. Mrs. Jones is in a white pantsuit, looking exactly like an older copy of her daughter. Mr. Jones is in gray—he’s always in gray—beside her, with a hand on her knee. He smiles mildly.
“Yes, Barbara, Triston, Tabatha and Gunther.”
Mom loves my friends. On paper, they’re exactly the sorts of people I should be associating with. Young, powerful, with too much money and not enough ambition.
“And Chase?” She quirks an eyebrow.
“I saw him.”
“And he saw you, no doubt, looking like this.” She shakes her head. “Darling, you should have come to me for advice.”
“You told me blue was my color.”
“It is, but that’s last year’s blue. You can’t attend a Fashion Week party hosted by your—”
“Ex.”
“Ex especially, dressed like that.”
Heat is crawling up my neck. I wish she’d wait until we were alone before tearing into me, but she considers the Joneses family, so they’re more ally than audience.
I turn to them and bow my head, “I must apologize, I’m feeling quite drained. As much as I’d love to stay and catch up, you’ll forgive me if I head up to bed?”
“Now, Darling, don’t be like that. Tell us about the party.”
“I’m really tired, Mom.”
“Come, sit.” She pats the space beside her on the upholstered settee. My father, as always, is completely silent in the armchair opposite. Seeing no easy alternative, I do as she says.
As I sink down, she asks, “Now, tell us, why are you home so early? Was there some sort of upset?”
