Benji and the Wireman

by Charlie Winters

  “So you thought I’d expect to fuck you? On our first date? That wouldn’t be very romantic of me to expect that, would it?”

  Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like a lot of guys try to woo me, I guess. There aren’t a lot of fancy dinners or romantic gestures. They just… I don’t know.” He pushed the food around on his plate absentmindedly without taking any bites.

  “They what, Ben?”

  “It’s usually a pretty short courtship, if you know what I mean.” He smiled shyly, but refused to make eye contact. “I’m not a forever boyfriend, I guess. I’m more of a ‘hey, he’s fun, let’s fuck and run’ kind of guy.”

  I leaned over and pulled his hand into mine. “Is that why you wanted to wait?” I asked.

  Ben laughed lightly, still looking down at his plate. “It’s so dumb, right?”

  “No. God, Ben, it’s not dumb at all.” I brushed his blonde hair back from his face and lifted his chin up. “Will you take those glasses off for a second? I need you to look at me.”

  He removed them carefully and lifted his gaze. “What?”

  “May I kiss you?”

  Ben rolled his eyes, a short feminine laugh escaping his lips. His cheeks flushed as he finally met my stare. “Are you asking if you can kiss me? How old are you? Fifteen?”

  “No, I’m thirty-nine. May I kiss you, Ben?” I repeated.

  The smile faded almost immediately, replaced with a short nod of his head. “Yeah, um, okay.”

  I pulled his chair close, the legs scraping against the porcelain tiles, until he was in-between my legs. His hands immediately rested on my thighs, his neck almost craning back in slight embarrassment.

  “Relax,” I said softly. “You weren’t nervous last night in the pool, were you?”

  He shook his head. “No, but there weren’t like ten fluorescent light bulbs overhead and containers of Kung Pao chicken five inches away and—”

  I reached behind his neck and tugged his lips against mine, effectively cutting off the nervous chatter. He moaned immediately, leaning in closer, his hands shifting up my thighs until they were dangerously close to my balls.

  “Ben,” I groaned into his mouth.

  “Yeah?” he breathed.

  I pulled back for a moment, panting hard. “You set me off like a goddamn stick of dynamite whenever you do that thing with the moaning and the tongue and I’m trying to be really good here, so what do you think about starting that movie?”

  Ben leaned in and gave me one final chaste kiss before extending his hand out for me to take. “Grab those cream cheese wontons for the bed. And bring that candy you promised me.”

  I decided right then and there. I was most definitely going to—to quote my brother so eloquently—romance the fuck out of one Benjamin Watts.

  The movie was… well… not my thing, but nearly everything about Ben drove me fucking wild. It was just over ninety minutes of pure torture with Ben wriggling around in my arms or trailing his fingers over my thigh… popping a candy into his mouth and then playing with it noisily by sucking it around on his tongue. Sometimes he just rubbed his bare stomach absentmindedly while a slow smile stretched across his face, his eyes glued to the screen.

  I’d finally figured it out. Ben was in love with love. That was it.

  Every once in a while, he would have a very “Ben” moment where he would prattle on over this or that, sitting up at one point to compare his ass to Jennifer Lopez’s, pouting that he “could do squats for ten hours a day and never come close.” He’d stuck it out toward my face and smacked it for effect, nearly sending my fragile heart into cardiac failure.

  But most of the time, his pale blue eyes were glued to that television, just chewing on that terrible popcorn quietly and sighing—lots and lots of sighing—while he cuddled into me occasionally, squeezing my fingers or resting his chin against my stomach.

  When the credits started to roll, Ben lifted up to meet my gaze. “So… love it or hate it?”

  “Um… love it?” I lied.

  He tossed a pillow at my face. “Liar. You hated it. You know how I know?”

  I smiled down at him and unwrapped one of his chocolate covered caramels, popping it into my mouth. It immediately stuck to my teeth. “How?”

  Ben straddled my lap, his dick in perfect alignment with mine, a quiet grin on his face. “Because every time I looked at you, you were looking at me. You couldn’t have even watched it.”

  “I watched it.” Another lie. “It was… good.”

  “Mmmhmm,” Ben said casually, moving his ass a little in a slow circle. “God… that little kitten of hers… it was so cute, right?”

  I tried not to get hard. Jesus fucking Christ, but the way he was moving against me—so calmly—pressing his palms against my stomach. “Yeah,” I answered, blowing out a long breath. “It was pretty cute.”

  Ben smacked my stomach… hard. “You asshole. She doesn’t even have a kitten. I knew you weren’t paying attention.”

  “Wait,” I said, faltering. “I… there was a dog though, right?”

  “Jesus, Jess. Really?” He lifted off of me and pressed his back to the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. “You’re all the same.”

  “The same as who?” I pleaded. I quickly wrapped an arm around his waist and stared down into those gorgeous eyes. “Who am I the same as?”

  “Everyone else. All the other guys. I just wanted you to do one thing. Just watch one fucking thing with me. Just… be interested in something that—”

  I cut him off with a quick kiss, melding my mouth against his. I wasn’t trying to diminish his thoughts—that wasn’t what the kiss was about—but he was so overwhelmingly beautiful in that moment and I just couldn’t wait.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I couldn’t delay that one second longer. Continue to berate me because I know I deserve it. I know I wasn’t watching the movie that closely and I do feel badly about that. If I knew how much this meant to you, Ben, I would have taken fucking notes, I promise.” I sat up and tugged at his shoulders, pulling him up until I was cradling him into my arms. “I’m not like all of the other guys, I promise. And I am interested, Ben… in you. I’m interested in everything about you.”

  “Maybe you won’t be,” Ben returned, his shoulders slumping, “once you get to know me. Sometimes I’m a mess. And sometimes… I… I can’t handle things.”

  “We’re all a little bit of a mess sometimes.” I brushed his hair behind his ear and held his chin up with my thumb, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “It’s okay.”

  “There’s a reason I don’t really have relationships, Jess,” he said softly, pushing away from me to curl back down onto the pillow. “Zach was the longest one I’ve ever had and I’m thirty-five. He lasted nine months. Nine months, Jesse.” Ben let out a short laugh. “I’m just not cut out for it.”

  “Why, Ben?”

  “It’s not like I’ve got some big, deep secret or something. I just… I leave. It’s what I do. I did it to Zach. I basically do it to them before they can do it to me. If I feel someone getting close to me, I run. Or they run,” he said, closing his eyes. “Someone always runs. It never lasts. And I like you… so maybe we just either end this now or you really can be the same as everyone else… you can fuck me and then go.”

  I leaned down into the pillow and spooned in behind him. Whispering into his ear, I returned with, “I don’t want to go.”

  “And you definitely don’t want to fuck me.” Ben’s eyes were still closed, his hands clasped tightly in front of his chest. “I’ve been throwing signs at you all night. I could be completely naked and you wouldn’t be interested.”

  Reaching up and taking one of his hands, I guided it back and down over my jean-covered dick. The bulge there was a little more than embarrassing; I was hard as a fucking hammer and all we’d done was watch a fucking chick flick for the past hour-and-a-half. Ben licking his long fingers. Ben tossing his head back with a tiny giggle (God, the sound of that mad
e my dick even harder just thinking about it). Ben arching his back in a stretch, his near-hairless chest straining like a dancer as his neck cracked. Ben making a mewling noise like he was getting sleepy… all I wanted to do was curl up next to that warm body and…

  “Ben,” I whispered. “Listen, alright? I’m gonna say this once and then I don’t want you to question it again. You can feel this, right?”

  Ben nodded his head and mumbled out a whimper. “Mmmhmm.”

  “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ve never in my life wanted to fuck anyone more than I want to fuck you. I’ve had to restrain myself more times than I care to admit. However, last night, right here, outside in that very pool, you asked me if I could promise not to let you fall into bed with me. You remember that?”

  “Uh huh,” he returned with a low groan.

  “Now, I practically feel like I’m about five seconds away from finishing in these jeans and you haven’t even touched me. You drive me fucking crazy, Ben.” I slowly kissed a path from the shell of his ear down to the front of his throat. “Do you know how fucking crazy you drive me?”

  Ben craned back and let out a loud “ohhh” while arching into my kiss.

  Jesus fuck.

  “Jesse,” he moaned softly. “Spend the night with me… I need you inside of me… please.”

  I stilled, my lips quieting against his porcelain skin. “Ben,” I said softly. “I meant what I said.”

  “Hmmm? Meant what?” he buzzed, eyes closed, lips parted in want.

  I leaned up on my elbow and turned him onto his back fully. Rubbing my thumb over the corner of his eye, I gave a simple soft command. “Eyes open.”

  When he cracked his lids, a smile formed at the same time, making him just about the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Somehow, I saw my future flash before me. I saw… Ben.

  “Hi,” he said sweetly.

  “I meant it when I said I’d wait. I want to wait for you, Ben.” I pushed his hair away from his forehead just as he gave me a supreme Ben Watts eye roll.

  “What if I changed my mind? What if I suddenly don’t want to wait anymore? I have superior sex skills and I want to show them to you… like… tonight. Right now. Starting this second.” Ben started to reach for the button of my jeans just as I swatted his hand away.

  “I have no doubt that your skills are top fucking notch. But the dinner has been consumed and the movie has been watched. I have given you your goodnight kiss, so I will leave you now before we both do something we’ll regret.”

  Ben’s hands again flew to my zipper with another giggle, but I was faster, scrambling out of the bed and pressing my hands down the front of my jeans just to… settle things.

  “Goodnight, Mr. Watts. It’s been a delightful evening. I hope that you’ll let me take you out again soon.”

  Ben rolled onto his stomach and stared up at me. “Wait. Are you serious? You’re… going home? Like now?”

  I dug for the keys in my pocket and dangled them from my fingers. “I know that you have coverage from five to ten-thirty tomorrow morning and then you don’t work again until eight tomorrow night. Do you want to maybe have an early dinner? My last call is at five. I could be here at six. Or if I showered here, I could be here at five-thirty.”

  “Wait,” Ben repeated. “You’re really not going to spend the night?”

  “And I know you have to prep at seven, so we won’t get to hang out long, but I ordered some of that gray grout so I figured while you were working, I could maybe fix those tiles in the kitchen that came up and—“

  “Jess… stop.” Ben rolled onto his back and let one hand gently glide down his bare stomach. “Come back to bed.”

  I leaned over and took Ben’s lips in a long wet kiss. He curled his fingers into my beard and gave it a firm tug. “I, uh… I have to go, Ben. I can’t stay. If I do—well—I just can’t. I’m gonna just… go home and shower now.”

  “When do I get to see your house?” Ben asked. He propped up onto his elbows and bit his bottom lip with a shy smile. “And your bed? Your pool? That… big… hot tub?”

  “I gotta…” I turned around, clearly miscalculating the distance from my face to the door. “Yeah, alright.”

  “Ouch,” Ben said with a hiss. He spread his legs at least eight more inches, teasing me further as he absentmindedly grazed a fingertip over one of his hardened pink nipples. “You okay, big guy? You need me to put a… bandage on it? Some… cream, perhaps? I can… blow on it.”

  “Jesus, Ben,” I mumbled, hitting the door again. “Goodnight.”

  Eleven.

  Ben

  I’d fucked up all morning. I knew I shouldn’t let the night before get into my headspace during a morning block, but I had and it had seriously knocked my work game into an all-time low. Thankfully, I only had one show left and it was a fairly easy one. I was actually looking forward to it a little bit, as it was on an entertainment channel and they were going to be touring celebrity homes.

  Since it was the closest I’d ever come to seeing the inside of Johnny Depp’s actual real bedroom, I geared up with a cup of coffee and pulled my machine between my legs before cracking my fingers once for luck. It was a habit I’d gotten into before every show. Now, if I didn’t do it, I was sure that the house would likely burn down, I’d break out with a case of gout, and just… generally, shit would go bad for me for the next, say, eight-to-ten years.

  “Hi,” the perky blonde announcer said. “I’m Diane Mirkovic! Today we’re—”

  And I typed: “Hi! I’m Dikembe Mutombo! Today we’re—”

  Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!

  I mean, when was the last time Dikembe Mutombo even fucking played? I tried to think back as to when I’d even entered that code. Two-thousand nine? He’d played for the Rockets in… two-thousand and goddamned nine.

  But, I shook out my hands, blew out a breath, and continued to type. The host kept smiling and so the fuck would I… if it motherfucking killed me.

  “The restoration of this particular house offers a sophisticated reflection—”

  And I typed: “The restoration of this peculiar house offers an unsophisticated reflection—”

  Oh Jesus Christ… please let it end.

  And it did. Forty-three minutes later.

  After many, many errors.

  And an email from my boss.

  I groveled in response and promised that my night block would be stellar. Oh, who was I fucking kidding? Jesse would be in the next room doing who-knows-what with the fucking grout and I was supposed to be “stellar” when everything was just… so goddamned confusing?

  Why did he have to come over the night before? I could have just watched Jonathan and Drew fix up a few houses, maybe eaten some cold leftovers, taken a night swim, tossed one off in the shower, and gone to bed. Instead, Jesse had come over with his Chinese takeout and his pressed white button down and the little bag of candy… and bought that movie that I loved… the one I’d told him about just once… and he’d remembered.

  And then he’d sat there with me and said nothing the whole time. He hadn’t complained. He hadn’t said, ‘this is stupid,’ like Zach would have. He hadn’t said, ‘can we watch something else?’ He’d smiled afterward and said he’d loved it… even though I knew he couldn’t have. No one loved that movie except me. Me and maybe seventeen year-old girls. Whatever. Fucking semantics.

  Why did he have to run his fingers through my hair so softly, just barely scratching my scalp with his thumbnail—back and forth, back and forth?

  Why did he have to say that he’d never wanted to fuck anyone more… in his life?

  Now everything was all jumbled. Now he wanted to see me again.

  Go to dinner. Come over after his shift. Even shower here. He said it so casually. “I could be here at six. Or if I showered here, I could be here by five-thirty.”

  I mean, what was that? It’s what you would say if you were like… boyfriends, right?

  Sure, we’d kissed and sure,
we’d had a date. We were definitely more than friends, I’d guess, but…

  I needed to consult with another.

  I lay back on the mattress, picked up my phone, and dialed.

  “HPK, this is David Watts.”

  “Oh, thank God you’re there. Hi, Dad.” I let out a long sigh I’d been holding.

  “What’s going on, kid? I’m at work.”

  “I know. I just got done with a shift. It was a nightmare. I totally botched like a thousand things and it was supposed to be like a super cake block. There was this home tour with these celebrity houses or whatever. Ugh. Who would have thought one could screw that up so badly? Leave it to me to get an email from my boss afterward. I mean, God.”

  “Whose houses?” he asked.

  “Johnny Depp, Jackie Collins, Frank Sinatra.”

  “Nice. So, why’d you really call? Mom says you’re having a hard time with Oma.”

  I waved my hand in front of the phone. “I’m gonna try that again after I get off the phone with you. Cheryl hasn’t called me, which isn’t a great sign, but I’m gonna go over there and just give it a shot.”

  “Attaboy.”

  “So, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay.” I heard the tapping of a keyboard in the background. “Is this gonna be the condensed version or the Ben version?”

  “Mmm,” I pondered. “Probably the Ben version?”

  “Alright. I’ve gotta get this report out, but I’m listening. Go.”

  “Okay, so I met this guy, right?”

  “Your mom told me about a guy. Jesse, right?”

  This is why I loved my dad. He always listened. And no fucking judgment. He could teach my mom a few tips.

  “Right. Anyway, so, we’ve been like hanging out, you know?”

  “That’s code for dating, right?” he asked, tapping away quickly.

  “No. I mean, I don’t know. Anyway, ugh, let me finish. So, we’ve been hanging out a little. Then it looks like he maybe wants more from me. He came over the other night and it was pretty cute. He like… brought Mai Tais or whatever, but that was maybe because he wanted to loosen up or something. I don’t know. Whatever. Moving on. Anyway, so that night, we like… flirted a little bit.”