by Urban, Ami
“Do you want to learn?”
I felt my eyes widen. “Oh, no. I’m not musically inclined. But I’d love to hear you play something.”
His eyes sparkled as that same easy smile lit up his face. “I’d be glad to.”
He thought for a moment, staring at the keys. I could see his smile widen as he positioned himself on the bench.
What came forth was a hauntingly sad melody. When he began singing along, it sounded reminiscent of Martin or Sinatra, but I’d never heard the song before. I soon found myself frozen, listening to the song’s nuances. He emulated a crooner in such a succinct way that I felt reincarnation might have been possible for a split second.
I remembered my father. I recalled how he’d sing for hours on Sunday mornings as my mother and I made breakfast. It was a warm memory. A different time. A time when I didn’t have to worry about life-threatening diseases, researching cures for epidemics that spread across the world. A simpler, neater and less stressful time. It was horribly boring. But perhaps a little bit of boring was what I needed.
In fact, the whole room reminded me of a former life. A life when I was the only child in a nuclear family. My father doing his magic on the upright piano in the living room and my mother busy in the kitchen with breakfast. I had realized from an early age that I wouldn’t follow in either of their footsteps, evidenced by the sheer volume of medical textbooks on the shelves in my childhood home.
And that’s all Brendon’s library contained. Shelves upon shelves of surgical and anatomy textbooks stared at me from three corners of the large room.
“How did you find the time to go to medical school and learn the piano so well?” It was difficult to fight the incredulity creeping into my tone.
“Aw, Bunny!” He continued to play. “I love ya, but no shop talk on my birthday!”
I nodded, noting a hint of hesitation behind his words. I’d bring it up to him later. “I just can’t tell the difference in mastery between your music and how you perform surgery.”
At those words, he stopped playing and jerked his head up to look at me. “Well, aren’t you just full of compliments tonight.” An easy smile spread across his youthful face. “I think I’ll keep you.” He stood up, snatching his glass of champagne from the corner of the piano. “Have I another muse?”
I cocked my head to one side, still taking in the multiple medical texts. “Only if you want to write and sing songs about ingrown toenail surgeries.”
A bellowing laugh erupted from Brendon’s chest. “Is that all they had you doing at Tee-Pee Central?”
“Tehachapi,” I corrected.
He shrugged, downing his glass in one gulp. “How many ingrown toenail surgeries does it take to get the good doctor to quit?” His hand made its way to the small of my back.
“I could have done those the rest of my life and been more than happy. It was the apocalypse that—” I stopped short at the look of pure curiosity on his face. “That was a joke.”
“Ding, ding, ding!” He waggled his index finger in the air while still holding the empty flute. A tuft of his dark hair brushed his forehead as he moved. “You win a prize.”
“What’s that?” A sudden flutter bloomed in my core.
“More alcohol!”
May 25 – Jack Reynolds
Guilt flooded through my veins as I made my way through the crowd of people to the restroom across the hall. Lying was the last thing I wanted to do, but the pain was distracting me from having any semblance of a good time.
You ain’t lyin’. You’re just taking your dose a little early. Just like every other day this month.
Right. Plus, every time the pain built back up, it started from the affected knee and shot outward. The fingers of each dull ache would reach both my thigh and ankle within moments. I needed relief.
As I approached the door to the restroom, my hand reached into my pocket, fingers curling around the preloaded needle. A rush of anticipation hit me so strongly I could’ve sworn I had an erection. I nodded back at Mina as she waved from a corner. But I didn’t stop to chat. I noticed a few odd looks from some of the guests as I grasped the door handle.
Because it was a fucking closet. Fuck me.
Either close the door like an awkward retard and slink away or own up to your mistake and walk the fuck in.
My pain was hitting a six. Fuck what anyone else thought. I was shooting up in that fucking closet. A laugh almost made its way out of my chest as I shut the door behind me. But that laugh choked on the pure amount of dust in the little room. I swiped an index finger across the wall, leaving a cleanish trail in its wake. About an inch of dust had collected on everything in the closet.
I shrugged. Whatever. It didn’t matter because I wouldn’t be in there more than a few minutes. I fished the syringe out of my pocket, then popped the top off with my thumb. I gave it a little tap to disperse bubbles before putting it between my teeth to unbuckle my belt.
The needle slid easily into my thigh. It didn’t even hurt anymore. My brain even released a few thousand endorphins as soon as I injected the Oxy. Like a Pavlovian response – as Lisa would say. I leaned against the dusty wall, letting my head fall back. A deep breath escaped me in a whoosh as if I’d been holding it in for ages.
While I waited for the meds to kick in, my curiosity got the best of me. I started rooting through the clothes in Brendon’s closet. Either he had the girliest taste in clothes or he had amassed a collection of them from his many trysts. Either way, each garment I touched had an undeniable feminine pattern. That’s when I realized the entire closet smelled differently too. It smelled fruitier and sweeter than the outside air. It smelled like a woman.
I pushed aside a dress that’d make a twenties flapper jealous to find what looked like a homemade t-shirt. It was like the ones you used to be able to get at a fair. A swirly, airbrushed generic shape. It was kind of cute. A little turtle smiled up at me with Hawaiian flowers all around it. The Oxy began to kick in when I noticed the writing on the shirt.
Amy & Brendon 4ever!
“The plot thickens,” I said aloud before exiting the small closet. I wondered if he had a stalker. That’d be funny. And probably not unlikely. The kid was the epitome of handsome. Short. But handsome.
I was thinking about how odd it was that all the clothes in that closet were the same size when I bumped into someone.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, reaching out a hand to steady myself and whoever I’d run into.
“Fucking watch it, man!”
I remembered that voice. On instinct, I ruffled Scott’s mass of red hair. “Which part of you am I watching exactly, Red?”
He pushed my hand away and rolled his blue eyes to the back of his head. A scowl stretched across his face. “Are you ever gonna grow out of that bullshit nickname thing?”
I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Well, of course not, my majestic cock-blossom.”
Scott shook his head, still frowning. He mumbled something with Lisa’s name in it before trying to get by me. But I was having none of that.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Keeping my tone playful but stern, I spun on my heel to grab his shoulder. “Not so fast. What did you say, my grumpy little friend?”
He turned to face me. His eyes looked odd. As if they were smiling, but his mouth was not. He shrugged my hand off his shoulder. “I said no wonder Lisa’s fucking that Brendon guy already.”
While I held my resolve outwardly, my blood boiled right in my veins. The twinkling in Scott’s eyes seemed to double.
“Well, cuck-a-doodle-doo!” I bent my knees just a bit to get down to his eye level. “You know, CNN says cuckolding is a positive experience for couples.”
The smug glitter in Scott’s eyes disappeared, replaced by a scowl for the ages. “You’re a fucking asshole.” He clenched his fists, spun around and waded through the party guests.
I smiled. “Takes one to know one! Love ya!”
Once I’d gotten my bearings, I real
ized I didn’t want to admit he might be right. So, I spun in a circle, trying to find my wife. But it was no use. To get a better view, I went about halfway up the staircase. Still no sign of her.
I looked up toward the second floor. My gut involuntarily dropped. The little niggling voice in the back of my head wondered if Scott was right. Brendon was kind of a playboy. Could I really trust him?
“Jack?”
I snapped out of my own thoughts to see Lisa and Brendon at the top of the stairs. They each had an empty champagne flute. I studied each of their expressions. For what? Guilt? Probably. I felt instantly bad at the thought.
I plastered on a smile. “There you are.”
Lisa returned my smile, but Brendon seemed to be giving me a quizzical look. “Dood…” He paused, something akin to confusion behind his eyes. “Why do you smell like a… Uh, strawberries?”
“Oh!” I laughed, allowing the anxiety to flush out of my system. “I accidentally walked into your closet instead of the bathroom. You really should label your doors.” I gestured toward the area I’d come from. He glanced over, an almost nervous energy about him.
Then, he nodded, the hand that had been hovering near my wife’s lower back dropped to his side. “Yeah, I should. Excuse me.”
Both Lisa and I watched him go. Then we glanced back at each other. I shrugged. She returned the gesture before coming to me. “Let’s get a drink.”
The rest of the night was a blur of good feelings, good people and good food. The Oxy smoothed the edges of my pain until there were none. Amazing doesn’t do the night justice. A smile stood permanent on my lips, laughter flowed freely, along with my gratuitous puns, and even my wife took part in the humor.
At one point, Lisa was sitting on my leg at the kitchen island, chatting with Brendon, Raychel and Gregg around one in the morning. Most guests had filtered out by that point, but I wasn’t feeling tired at all. My arm was around my wife, her hand clasped in mine. Feeling the familiar butterflies in my stomach was a welcome part of the evening.
Oh, yeah. And my dick was totally fucking working. My jeans were squeezing the shit out of it all night. Uncomfortable. But really fucking welcome.
“My God, Jack, get a room already,” Raychel said, her nose wrinkled.
I looked up from nuzzling Lisa’s neck. “Actually, all of you should leave this room because it’s about to get public bathroom levels of PDA in here.” Unlacing my fingers from Lisa’s, I allowed my arm to wrap around her waist. Instead of scolding me, she actually leaned into me and smiled. Must’ve been the copious amount of champagne in her system.
Brendon laughed but my sister was having none of it. “Ya nasty.”
“You know it, sis.” I kissed my wife. “You know it.”
“You are so impossible!” Her tone was one of disgust, but there was a familiar twinkle in her eyes. “How do you deal with this Neanderthal, Lisa?”
Everyone went silent as though the answer to Raychel’s question was the question to the answer of life, the universe and everything.
Fuckin’ nerd.
“You can palpate this tension,” I said without thinking. Brendon let out a guffaw. Some random blonde woman with a dress too short stumbled into the kitchen, crashing into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. While he rolled his eyes, he still allowed her to hang on him, teasing her with winks and purrs.
Lisa looked at me. “It’s my medical opinion that Jack resembles Cro-Magnon far more.”
“Those have bigger dicks,” I said, pretending to know exactly what I was talking about. Everyone around us busted out in hearty laughter except the drunk lady. Lisa was even giggling a bit.
“Oh, my God, I don’t want to know about my brother like that!” Raychel’s hands flew to her ears as she scrunched up her face.
“You know what they say…” We all turned toward Brendon who was stealing kisses from the blonde’s hand. “Bigger the shoe, bigger the dick.” He stared at her for a moment. She giggled. “So, what’s your shoe size, Jack?”
Everyone laughed again. Even a trained eye could barely see the quick glance down everyone made a moment later.
“I’m gifted.” I grinned, feeling a bubble of pride rise up in my chest. “Thirteen.”
“Beat me.” Brendon put up a hand, feigning a hurt puppy face. It was quickly replaced by a wide smile as he laughed again.
The blonde finally spoke. Her voice was a stereotype of itself. “I hope not by much.” I wondered if anyone else noticed the subtle roll of his eyes.
“Also, I’d love to beat you, but you’re not my type,” I said.
“The shoe thing is a myth.” Gregg shifted in his seat. “Because my feet are small, but I’m hung like a moose.”
Fucking hell. “I’m so proud of my baby sister in this moment.”
Raychel pointed at me. “Serves you right!”
“I’m with Gregg,” Brendon said. “I’m a ten.” He paused for effect, glancing at his new friend. “And I only wear a size seven shoe.”
“I have no idea what your IQ has to do with this conversation.”
No one spoke for just about fifteen seconds after Lisa. Pretty sure it was because none of us could believe she’d put that zinger out there. Don’t get me wrong. When she dished it out, she did it with style, intelligence and grace. But this was a rare one.
“Wow. You actually managed to shut him up!” My arms tightened around my wife, pulling her closer into my body. There was no doubt she could feel the half erection just beneath the crotch of my jeans. Her hips moved into mine. It seemed purposeful.
Brendon, who’d been stiff and silent the last few seconds finally busted a gut laughing. Doubling over, he clutched his stomach in a comical gesture. At one point, he even stomped a foot.
“Now that…” He stood, clearing tears from his eyes with the back of a hand. “That was solid, Bunny.”
“Ooh! Ooh!” I raised a hand in the air like a kid at school. “Like my dick!”
“Aannd that’s my cue to leave.” Raychel stood, placing a hand on the arm of her husband who was still spitting with laughter. They said their goodbyes and left after I received a well-deserved high-five from Gregg.
Brendon downed the remaining gin in his clear glass before twirling the woman on his arm and bringing her close to him. “It’s about that time, I think.” A clink sounded as his glass met the marble countertop. “Y’all are welcome to stay over.” He squinted his eyes while bringing one hand up to his cheek. “Uh… Bottom floor first door on either side are spares. Second floor…” He drew out the words. “Second floor first room on the left and second on the right are spares.” Then he looked at the two of us. “If any of those are wrong, I cannot be held responsible. I’m pretty out of it.”
Without even waiting for a reply, he flicked off the kitchen light and, followed by the blonde, walked out. “Y’all, I’m takin’ liberties with this next one! Went to a party. I danced all night. I’m too drunk to fuck. You’re too drunk to fuck.”
“I hope you’re kidding!” The shrill voice almost made me wince.
“Yeah. Says him.” My wife and I looked at each other in the dim light. Just looking into her beautiful face was all it took to bring me to full attention at once.
“Oh,” was all she said. That was my favorite. When she couldn’t think of anything else to say because the passion of the situation was taking over. She kissed me. It was urgent. Her arm dropped from my shoulders as she turned to straddle me on the barstool.
My hands had a mind of their own. Wandering up her back and under her shirt, the softness of her skin enticed me to keep going. A small hum of approval escaped her. I swept her shirt over her head in a swift movement, only breaking our kiss for a split second.
My hands her were in her hair, pulling her in tighter to me, to us. My body wanted more of her – an almost impossible amount. Breaking away for a moment, she leaned back to unbutton my shirt. Slices of warm, yellow light from the hallway fell over her chest. Her skin seem
ed to glow. When my shirt was off, I brought her back to me.
If anyone were to come in at that moment, they would’ve needed a firehose to break us up.
Lisa’s fingers traced a line from my cheek all the way down my chest. She stopped momentarily to press her nails into my skin. A fiery shock jerked through me. Her hand continued its path down to the button on my jeans.
“Which rooms did he say were the—”
“I don’t remember.” Lisa interrupted my question in the middle of nibbling her neck.
Breaking away from her, I swiveled around to look behind me. A sectional sofa sat in front of a large television. That wouldn’t work. We needed a large area of cubic space because I didn’t know how wild is was gonna get.
“Okay.” I turned back to Lisa, expecting to be able to stand, but realizing that wasn’t going to work right away. “Okay, um…”
“Here.” She slid off my lap to the floor. While my legs were wobbly, I was able to stand after a few seconds.
What do you want? All the blood was in my groin.
That, and, thanks to the Oxy, you can actually fuckin’ stand.
“Okay, come on.” I grabbed her wrist and we jogged into the hallway beneath the stairs. On the way there, I fumbled with my jeans, almost tripping over them when they wouldn’t pass my ankles. I wasn’t sure how long my dick was gonna work. Fast was the key word.
Brendon had said something about doors on either side being guest rooms, so I just tried the one right in front of me.
Locked.
But Lisa must not have gotten the message. Because when I turned to tell her, she crashed into me, sending the doorknob into my left ass cheek. A whimper of pain died on my lips as she kissed me again. My hands went to her hips, which were pants-less. The smooth flesh of her ass under silk panties was something I didn’t want to give up. So, we just stood there and made out against a locked door for a few minutes before I pulled her to the next room.
That time we got lucky. But not by much. That room was a tiny rectangle. More of a storage room than anything else. But there was a mattress against one wall.
