by Z. Allora
God, he hated feeling like shit when he’d done nothing wrong. He liked sex. Who didn’t? Tristan wasn’t judging him, but somehow viewing his open sex life through Tristan’s eyes made him judge himself. Fuck society!
He added a cookie for Monique and told Tristan, “Monique loves frosted sugar cookies, and these pink ones are her favorite.”
They hit the street. Tristan carried four cups of coffee in a carrier but managed with his free hand and shoulder to save Phillip from face-planting over a tree root that had tried to take over the sidewalk.
“Thanks,” Phillip muttered.
A half a block later, Tristan asked, “Do you meet with a lot of men?”
Well, that shattered Phillip’s hope of getting back to some reasonable conversation. “What do you consider a lot?” Tired of games, Phillip nodded. “Probably. I’m not ashamed of it.”
“You shouldn’t be. I wish….”
“What?” Did he want to be added to the roll call of Phillip’s dick-draining service? Phillip would be happy to add him into the rotation.
“I….” Tristan’s face became an adorable red. “I wish, I don’t know, that I could be more free and open… like you.”
Phillip stopped dead to stare at the man. Few people surprised him, and no one ever shocked him. Tristan’s honest share accomplished the impossible.
“It’s stupid, I know. I could probably never—”
“You totally could.” Fuck, wasn’t that hard. “You simply follow where your dick leads, and you don’t think too hard about it.”
Tristan laughed him off. They stopped in front of the library. “Well, thank you again for the haircut.”
A woman wearing a purple cardigan, skirt, and tight bun opened the door. “Tristan, I don’t mean to bother you, but the County Clerk’s Office is calling, and they need to speak to you.”
“You have to go. I’ll see you soon.” Phillip made his escape, but he couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of loss that clung to him tighter than his best pair of jeans.
FRIDAY AFTER work, Chris met Phillip and Monique at their favorite Mexican restaurant. The festive streamers and music still appealed to the trio as much as it had when they’d first found the place six years ago.
The three of them became friends during an odd time in their lives. Phillip was being bullied for being the only out gay kid in Schenectady High School. Chris had torn his knee during the first home game and couldn’t play football, so the sports hero’s friends stopped hanging out with him, making him feel alone. Monique was top of the class and she’d let no one stand in her way, but as a result, she lacked close friends.
The day they’d met had been a regular Thursday. The fifth-period bell rang. Monique came out of her class and knocked right into Chris, tripping on his crutches. She was going down, but Phillip caught her, spraining his wrist in the process. He helped them both gather their books from the floor. They’d ambled at the same speed into the cafeteria.
He happened to be right there, so he helped carry Chris’s tray. One of the fuckers who picked on him came over and started taunting him, as usual. Chris, even on crutches, nailed him in the arm and told him not to bother his new friend. Monique clapped, kissed them both on the cheek, and guided them over to a table. That day started their beautiful relationship. They had lunch every day and found common bonds: TV shows, bands, and a deep-seated hatred of high school.
Though Phillip glared, Monique continued telling Chris in painstaking detail all about Tristan Cooper’s hair appointment from two days ago. Finally she ended the saga with “And Phillip even brought me back a guilt cookie!”
“Maybe it’s time to rethink our friendship,” Phillip griped and then polished off his second mojito.
Monique giggled and blew him a kiss.
Chris ordered their usual appetizers and then turned his grin on Phillip. “Interesting. Is Monique right? Do you really like him?”
“Oh my God! This is not high school.”
“You’re right about that, because if it were, I wouldn’t need to ask. I’d know you were in like with whatever boy caught your eye.”
Phillip rolled his eyes. “Fuck you.”
“You’re too late,” Monique snarked, then slapped a hand over her mouth.
Chris grinned.
“Well, Ms. Possessive Much. I think—”
“So, who will do what? Is he a top or a bottom?” Chris leaned in.
What? “Excuse you?”
Chris stared off into space as if he were working on a puzzle. “I’ve never asked, because none of them seemed to matter to you, but how do you figure out who does what?”
Was this a fair question? Given the shit he’d asked about, maybe. “It works out….”
Chris squinted and stared. “But—”
Growling, Phillip asked, “Why are straight people so focused on that?”
Monique folded her arms. “Oh, please. Stand down. Everyone’s focused on sex. Unless they’re asexual, and even then, those folks live in a world obsessed with sex… so everyone deals with it.”
Chris added, “Nah, look, man. If I liked to be pegged—you know, up the butt with a strap-on—”
“Do you?” Monique’s eyes sparkled. “’Cause I could totally do that.”
With red cheeks and a big grin, Chris said, “Table that discussion.”
“Okay, later,” Monique purred and gave heart eyes to the man she’d deny she cared about.
Chris cleared his throat. “Point is, if I wanted that, I’d want to make sure I found someone who would fuck me, and if I liked to—”
“Got it.” Phillip shrugged. So much of his life he simply shrugged off; his shoulders were starting to hurt.
But business-school boy had just been getting started. “See, there’s a sex filter most people have, and almost everything can go through it. You instantly access bangability and the probability. You do a quick rewards-versus-risk assessment—”
“Honey, your business degree is showing.” Phillip sipped his drink.
“I think he’s trying to say it’s not all about you and your rainbowness. He’d ask the same question of any of his friends,” Monique added, as if Phillip needed a Chris-lation.
“It’s okay. I know there’s a sensitivity.” Chris raised his hands in front of him.
Phillip rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I wonder why.” Misplaced anger slashed through him. Yes, there was progress, but still.
Chris threw an arm around Phillip’s shoulder, and Monique pushed into his other side. “We want to make sure you’re taken care of by this guy. I’m not trying to step on your gay pride.”
Well, that was true enough. These were the friends who’d dragged him to his first Pride festival and march… wearing their Straight But Not Narrow T-shirts in proud support of Phillip, and they deserved the benefit of the doubt. “It doesn’t matter if he’s a top, bottom, or versatile. He’s a nice guy.”
“Nice guy. The kiss of death.” Monique sighed. “He seemed sweet and hot as fuck.”
Chris straightened and narrowed his gaze on her.
She continued to play the unrepentant noncommittal part she’d chosen, even though she only had eyes for Chris.
Ring. Ring.
Glaring at his phone, he said, “I’m sure it’s another call about a huge virus the Dell computer I don’t have has gotten and my nonexistent computer is likely to catch fire. So irritating!”
His cell stopped ringing before he answered it. Good.
“As I was—”
Again the shrill ring of an unknown caller pierced his ears.
Time to teach a lesson. He cupped his hand around his cell and whispered, “It’s done, but there’s blood everywhere.”
“Do you need help cleaning up? Or should I just dig the hole?”
What the fuck? “Who is this?”
“It’s Tristan….”
Chapter 4
WHAT HAD Tristan been thinking? He shouldn’t have used the personal number on Phillip’s
card. He never made mistakes of such massive proportions. This impulsiveness was not him. The guy must believe him a loon.
Muffled noise accompanied a quiet “Tristan?”
“I’m sorry. You’re busy. I shouldn’t bother you.” Of course Phillip would be out at a party or a bar or a club. It was a Friday night, and he had a life. He probably had men vying for his attention and a date later on… if that was what you called scheduled sexual relations.
“No, I’m having dinner with my friends at a Mexican restaurant.” Phillip’s words sounded tired or maybe a little slurred.
“Oh….” Tristan could hear the faint strings and horns of lively music.
Phillip purred or yawned, Tristan couldn’t tell. “So what can I do for you, Tris?”
Tris. Oh, how he enjoyed the way the nickname echoed through him like they were friends with the hope of something more. To hear his name being morphed when—
“Well, I was wondering….” Spit it out! “If you really thought I could… you know, be more like you?”
“Like me?”
He searched for the right words but settled for “You know, more… exciting… open.”
Phillip snorted. “You think I’m exciting?”
“Yes.” How was that even a question? He’d been there when the guy got scolded for not being on time to provide oral sex during his lunch break. Tristan longed to be that liberated. Though he’d settle for not being prudish. “And I’m not. It’s not like I think I can be wild and completely carefree, but I’d like to not be… unexciting.”
“What are you doing right now?”
Tristan didn’t want to admit being ready for bed at 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night. “Not much.”
“Get dressed. We’re going out.”
Worry slashed through him. “Out? Out where?”
“Text me your address, and I’ll be there in an hour.”
“An hour?” What had Tristan done?
“See you soon.”
The click sounded like the start of a ticking clock… or bomb!
TRISTAN’S HEART triple-timed when the doorbell chimed. He rushed to the hallway, tripped over his throw rug, and landed against the door with a thud.
“You okay?” Phillip asked through the door.
Damn. “Yeah.” He unlocked the thin wooden barrier.
Phillip stood on the porch in a black mesh top that allowed Tristan to see the tips of his rosy nipples poking against the netting. His tight black pants clung in all the right places.
“By the look on your face, this is not what you meant by get dressed?” Tristan swept his hands down his suit and tie.
Phillip opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He turned to the car idling at the curb and waved the driver on. The car left with a soft toot of the horn.
“Come in. Can I get you something to drink?” Tristan undid his tie and the two buttons on his dress shirt.
“If you have it, I’d love a beer.” Phillip toed out of his black suede shoes and set them next to Tristan’s in the shoe tray. He tossed his leather backpack next to the door.
Tristan led Phillip to the kitchen down the hallway of pictures.
Phillip stopped and pointed to one taken in the 1970s. “Hey, that’s your grandfather.”
Tristan smiled. “Yup. And this one’s my sister and my mother.”
“Oh, you’ve got a sister?”
“Yeah, younger. She and Mom are in California. She’s going to Stanford. Mom travels a lot for her job. We try to skype about once a week, but right now their schedules are intense. They’ll both be back for the holidays.”
“Nice.” Phillip studied the pictures.
“This one is of my best friend from high school,” Tristan pointed out. “And—”
“Great graduation pictures.” Phillip gestured to Tristan receiving his undergraduate and then his master’s in Library Science.
Continuing down the hallway, Tristan said, “Thanks.” When he got to the kitchen, he pulled two craft beers from the fridge and opened the tops.
“Thanks. Fancy beer.” Grinning, Phillip accepted the brew and ran a finger over the highly detailed label of an ancient Japanese village scene.
Tristan snorted. “I ordered a year’s subscription to Beers Around the World, trying to expand my taste buds. Only to figure out I don’t like the taste of beer.”
Sitting across from him at his kitchen table set for one, Phillip put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. His eyes were a little glazed over, and his movements were more relaxed than usual. “Tell me, Tris, why’d you ignore me when you first saw me?”
“What do you mean?”
“In the car. I tried to pay your granddaddy’s sexmobile a compliment, and you rolled up your window.” Phillip’s frown emphasized the hurt that bled through his tone.
“I guess I thought you were teasing me.”
Phillip sat straight. “Teasing you?”
“Yeah, I mean… why would a man like you talk to me?” How he hated when his low self-esteem became highlighted, but he wasn’t going to lie.
“Like me? Oh, right.” Phillip stared at his beer bottle, appearing as if he were contemplating world domination or—“Tris, what do you really want?”
Phillip raised the bottle to his perfectly shaped pink lips and adjusted them around the opening. He sucked a pull from the bottle. His throat muscles worked as he swallowed, and his eyes never left Tristan’s.
“Want—” At the top of the mile-long list of bad ideas was Phillip Valentine, but Tristan couldn’t say that. Nor could he say hanging out watching Phillip drink beer would be fine by him, even though that had great appeal, because that screamed creepy. “Um….”
Phillip leaned forward over the table. “You said you wanted to be more like me? What does that mean?”
“You do what you want, with who you want, and you’re happy… free.”
“It hasn’t always been a place mat for one, has it?” Phillip toyed with the place mat fabric that matched the gold in the striped curtains hanging in the windows.
“No. I’ve had two relationships. My last one lasted about two years, and it ended a few months ago.”
“How come?” Phillip picked at the label.
Why lie? “He said I was boring because I wouldn’t try new things.”
Phillip sat back and slapped the table. “Some men are assholes.”
“Maybe it’s true.” In for a penny, in for a pound. “He wanted to do things, you know, to spice things up.”
Phillip leaned forward, directing all his attention to Tristan. “Like what?”
“Things in public.” Tristan swallowed down the nervous bit of panic and wiped his hands on his pants. God, Phillip was going to think he was a prude.
Phillip gave him an understanding nod. “So, blowjobs in alleys and sex on dance floors?”
Wow, apparently those were typical items on the male to-do list. “Yeah.”
“Lap dances from cage dancers. Hooking up with randoms. Threesomes?”
His failure to satisfy another man made him nod, ’cause his voice escaped him.
“And you didn’t want to do these things,” Phillip concluded.
Tristan folded his arms across his chest. Not that he’d want to do those things exactly…. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve got some wild oats to sow.” Phillip’s grin could have melted a glacier.
“What if I don’t? What if I like sex in a bed with one man who I’m dating? Is that wrong?” Asking the question once again completely invalidated everything he’d said about wanting to be free, but—
“No, it’s not wrong. And you should never do anything you don’t want to do. Ever!”
Tristan glanced down at his beer and took another long sip.
“But you called me for a reason.”
Shrugging, Tristan restated, “I don’t want to be uninteresting and boring anymore.”
“So you want some ‘I’m a gay guy in America’ experiences?”<
br />
“Right.” He wasn’t asking to swing on a trapeze while having sex with triplets.
Phillip gave a seated bow. “Allow me to be your guide into the wilds of Hookup Land. I can help you sift through playmates and find experiences that would be very satisfying for you.”
Tristan’s hope that Phillip would volunteer to be a more hands-on type of sensei withered and died.
“Look, I can make you a profile and have a guy sucking your cock in a half an hour if that’s what you want.”
“No” escaped with an unintelligible sound. The idea was as arousing as it was horrifying. Tristan wouldn’t think less of someone who did that, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around the ease.
“Yes! I can guarantee it.” Phillip opened his phone, and with a few taps, penises filled the screen.
Folding his arms over his chest, Tristan shook his head. “I don’t understand why someone would do that?”
Phillip rolled the bottom of his bottle around on the table. “Well, it’s hot, fun, and easy. It’s sex with no strings.”
He hated that Phillip spoke from experience, and added, “I don’t think I could… with a stranger.”
Judging from Phillip’s openmouthed stare, Tristan had shocked him.
“Tris, come on. You don’t think you could blow someone?”
Tristan stared at Phillip.
Phillip waved him off. “You wouldn’t have to. Most guys are looking to give not receive. Though some allow reciprocation.”
Some? “Isn’t it selfish not to get the other guy off?” Of course he’d heard of such arrangements, but hard to imagine how it would work in reality.
“Think of it as the economy of orgasm.” Phillip’s voice deepened, and he sounded a bit detached.
“What?”
“Some people see giving an orgasm as having power over the other person, and not to accept one means you owe that person nothing while they owe you their pleasure. It’s a bit of fun.”
Tristan had to clench his teeth together to stop his mouth from dropping open. “How could someone be okay with a steady diet of—”
“Cum?”
He shook his head as if he could remove the image of someone using Phillip so poorly out of his head. “Of one-sided sex. Though I guess both people are kind of selfish—”
