Dance With Me

by Heidi Cullinan

  Exasperation came rushing back. “Living together! You working with me and Vicky!”

  “Oh fucking hell,” Ed grumbled and tried to sit up. But when he tried to pull back on his toe, it was stuck fast. “Shit,” he said and sat up to try and pull it out by hand.

  Laurie came forward, pressed a hand to his chest, and kept him pinned in place, staring down at him with intent. He tried not to let himself get distracted by how sexy Ed looked all sleek and soaped. “I want to move in with you.”

  Ed tried to push away, looking suddenly self-conscious. “My toe's stuck, Laur.”

  Laurie ignored him and held him against the back of the tub. His heart was pounding. “I want to dance with you,” he said, speaking carefully, clearly working to keep himself in rigid control. “I want to dance with you. I want to dance for your friends, with the students, even your mom. That's fine. I just don't want to compete anymore. No more shows either.” His fingers curled gently against Ed's wet skin, and he stared down at them. “And I especially don't want to turn dancing with you into that.”

  Ed looked at Laurie oddly. “What the hell kind of shit were you into, Laurie? Some sort of dancing mafia?”

  That made Laurie laugh, though it was a sad, chagrined sound. “I just took it too seriously. I let it wreck everything.” His smile fell away. “I don't want to wreck this.”

  Ed looked at Laurie for a long moment. Then he sighed, set down his bottle of beer, and pulled Laurie into the tub.

  Laurie squealed and tried to fight him. “Ed! Ed, put me down—”

  “No,” Ed said and hauled him onto his lap.

  His toe eventually came out of the tap as Laurie struggled against him, and they sloshed water and bubbles recklessly over the sides of the tub as they fought each other, Laurie shrieking and insisting that this was not funny! while Ed laughed and yanked Laurie's shirt over his head. When Ed undid Laurie's jeans and slid his hands under the waistband, though, Laurie began to struggle in a very different way.

  “Ed.” He gripped the sides of the tub as he lifted his ass so Ed could pry the soaked denim off his body. “Ed, you're insane.”

  “Crazy for you, baby,” Ed whispered against his ear.

  When he had the wet jeans off, he tossed them over the side, but when Laurie tried to take off his socks, Ed just hauled him against his body and trapped him in place as he reached for the soap. Laurie felt outrage morph quickly into arousal.

  “I think you're kind of dirty,” Ed said, nipping at Laurie's ear as he ran the soap down his chest toward his groin. “Let me scrub you clean.”

  Laurie arched as Ed's soapy hand snaked down to push between the cleft of his cheeks, and he cried out when Ed pressed against his opening and started to work his way inside. “Oh God,” he rasped. He tried to turn his face to Ed's, but then Ed slipped inside, and he shuddered.

  Ed's finger was slowly fucking him now. “I like watching you come apart, baby.” He pushed his finger in to his second knuckle, feeling Laurie clench around him. “Like to be inside you.” He curled his finger and smiled as Laurie moaned. “Yeah. Like that, baby. Let me hear you. Let me hear how good this feels to you.”

  Laurie writhed above his hand as the water lapped over their bodies as first one and then two fingers thrust. He looked down at his chest, seeing the hickey Ed had left the night before against Laurie's left breast.

  Ed whispered in Laurie's ear. “Come dance with me, Laurie. Dance at Vic's show with me. It's just a simple thing. We aren't going to fuck this up.” He pushed his fingers deep and hooked again. “We're just going to fuck each other.” When Laurie cried out, he bit his ear. “Say yes.” He thrust again. “Say yes. Say yes.”

  “Yes!” Laurie threw his head back and gripped the sides of the tub, undulating against Ed's hand as he began to lose control. “Damn it—yes—”

  Ed growled and started to fuck him faster, but before he could lose himself completely, Laurie pushed off of him, flipped over, and straddled Ed, wedging him sideways so one knee could have purchase on the bottom of the tub. He braced a hand on Ed's chest again and looked him dead in the eye.

  “Then I'm moving in with you, and you're coming to the studio. You're going to help me with the dancing classes, and you're teaching football at the center. Not playing. Teaching. Volunteering for now. Keeping your mind open about a job later if it works out. And you're letting me pay you or at least cover expenses for helping me out.” His hand slid down, thumb grazing Ed's nipple. “I'll do what you want if you do what I want.”

  Ed looked as if he was struggling to argue against this, but he was also, Laurie noticed, succumbing to sexual torture the same way Laurie had. Eventually he nodded and let his hands slide up Laurie's sides. “Okay.”

  Laurie took Ed's cock in hand. “Okay, then.” He began to stroke. “That's settled.”

  Ed hissed as Laurie's wet hand moved over him. “Yeah. All settled.”

  Laurie tried to push down on him, tried to line up their cocks and fuck, but they couldn't quite get purchase because there wasn't enough room. After a few minutes of driving each other crazy, Ed pulled the plug and pushed them out onto the rug. As soon as they were writhing, he tried to get his fingers back inside Laurie, but there wasn't much they could do without lube.

  “Bed.” Ed rose from the floor and pushed Laurie across the room.

  But even as they fell into the rhythm of making love, Laurie could feel the panic in Ed, and he felt the same within himself. And the feelings didn't go away even once they were both sexually spent.

  Still so wet his hair was dripping, Ed pulled a panting Laurie to his chest and arranged them against the pillow.

  “I want to dance with you,” he whispered into his neck, “because I feel so sexy when I dance with you. So strong. And I want everyone to see. I want everyone to see how amazing I feel with you.”

  Laurie just shook his head and pressed his face into Ed's chest. “I want to move in with you because I want to help take care of you. Because I love you.”

  Ed sighed and kissed the center of Laurie's forehead. Then he kissed his nose, then his mouth, and then he just kissed him, and Laurie kissed him back, still feeling unsure, but better. He kissed Ed, trying to tell him—and himself—without words that it was going to be okay.

  Dick and Annette Maurer lived in the same Cape Cod bungalow they had lived in since 1972. It was furnished in largely the same manner as well, though lately Ed's dad had made some inroads on remodeling. But the house was still a living time capsule, and to be honest, that was the way Ed liked it.

  It was especially comforting that day as he came through the narrow entrance of the back door, tossed his coat onto the top stair to the basement, and trudged up the five stairs into the tiny kitchen where he could smell dinner simmering on the stove. The table was set for two, and as he came around the corner by the refrigerator to the living room, he saw his father in his sagging recliner, reading the paper, which he put down as Ed's shadow fell over him.

  “Well!” Dick declared, folding the classified section and tossing it over the arm of the chair in a fluid motion. “Look what the cat dragged in. Smelled your mother's sausage from eight blocks away, did you?” He glanced around hopefully. “Where's Laurie?”

  “Working late. Where's Mom?” Ed sank onto the arm of the couch and took in the room. “Hey, you got a new TV!”

  “Yep. Old one had a strip of color missing down the middle. I got tired of seeing the Redskins wearing magenta whenever they passed through. Your mother was messing with something in the bedroom, last I heard.” He lifted his head and squinted in the direction of the hallway. “Annie, sweetheart, Ed's here!” he called.

  “Oh, good!” The cry came back muffled. “Ed, honey, come back and help me with this, would you?”

  Ed's mother was buried in the back of her closet, trying to reach a bag of clothing on the top shelf. She gave Ed a quick smile before motioning to it. “Could you pull that down for me? I just can't quite reach it. And you know
your father and his back.”

  “Sure,” Ed said and reached over her for the bag, leaning to the left to try for a better grip. His mother pressed into the clothes hanging from the hangers, and Ed leaned farther until his fingers had firm purchase on the bottom. He pulled on the plastic.

  And then he fell sideways into the closet with a sharp gasp as pain shot down his neck, his arm, his spine, and all the way into his right toe.

  “Ed!” He felt his mother's hands on him, trying to right him. “Ed—Ed, are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” But Ed had to shut his eyes and brace his hands against the back wall for a minute as the pain subsided. He could feel himself shaking in a sort of aftershock, and it was a tremor he couldn't stop. It was over now, but he felt like someone had shot him with a lightning bolt.

  “Oh no. Is it your neck? Oh, baby, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have asked you to reach for it!”

  That didn't stop the tremor, but it did get enough of a rise out of Ed that he pushed off the back wall and righted himself. “I'm fine. I just lost my balance is all.”

  But his mother was zeroed in at the skin above his collar. “Nothing about your neck at all? Have you been doing your exercises? Laurie?” She called down the hall toward the living room. “Laurie, honey? Has he been doing his exercises?”

  “Laurie's not here,” Ed snapped, his temper shorter than he meant it to be. He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets, which hid most of the shaking. “I'm fine, Mom,” he said more gently. “I'm fine.”

  She didn't look like she believed him, but she nodded. “Still. I shouldn't have asked you to reach for anything, and I'm sorry. The last thing I want is for you to get back into all that trouble again.”

  “Mom,” Ed said, exasperated.

  She waved a hand. “I know, I know. Stop fussing. Well, tell me something good, then. Any news on a new job?”

  Ed was fishing for a neutral answer and wishing he'd have just stayed home and ordered pizza when his father said from the door, “Annette, stop badgering the boy.” He jerked his head at the hall. “You go lay an extra plate for dinner, and we'll clean this up in here.”

  Annette gave Ed one last look of concern, then kissed both him and her husband on the cheek. “All right,” she said and disappeared into the hall.

  Dick patted Ed on the arm, then groaned as he got down on his knees and started piling up the once-folded clothes strewn all over the closet floor. “Come on then. Your bones are younger than mine. Get down here and help an old man.”

  “You're not old,” Ed said, kneeling carefully beside him. “You're only sixty-four.”

  “Well, I've got the body of an eighty-year-old, feels like.” Dick nodded to the plastic bag, now almost empty. Ed passed it over without being asked and held it open as his father halfheartedly folded a faded polo and put it inside. “Mother wants these to go to the church auction. She wants to go through the upstairs too.”

  “I'll come and help tomorrow,” Ed said, putting the bag down and reaching for some clothes to fold himself.

  Dick nodded. “That'd be welcome.” He paused. “So long as you're up to it.”

  Ed paused too. His mother's concern had made him indignant, but his father's made him feel hollow. “I am,” he said and put a pair of folded slacks in the bag.

  His father nodded again. “Good. Good. Maybe Laurie can come too.”

  Ed nodded, then stopped. Without thinking, he reached up to his neck, pushing down on the tender muscle. He caught his father watching him, met his eye for a moment, then turned away, lowering his hand.

  “So,” Dick said, with exaggerated care. “You and the boy are moving in together, are you?”

  Ed tried to hide his grimace. “I guess so.”

  “Need any help?”

  Ed shook his head. “Laurie insisted on hiring movers. Said he doesn't do heavy lifting. And said I shouldn't either.” He sighed and sank back against the wall. “I don't know, Dad.”

  His father looked up at him. “Second thoughts? But I thought you and Laurie did so well together.”

  “We do,” Ed said quickly. “It's not that. It's just—damn it, Dad. He keeps trying to take care of me.”

  Dick paused with a load of neckties in his hand and looked up at Ed. “That's what we do for people we love, son.”

  “But Dad. I mean, he wants to pay for everything! I know he has the money, but God, I'm already a mess because of my neck. And now I'm unemployed. And he wants to keep me, like I'm some big loser who can't do anything!”

  His dad put the wad of ties into the top of the bag and rose, groaning a little as he made his way up from his knees. Ed reached for the bag, but his dad's hand came out and caught his arm, staying him.

  “I got this old man's body,” his dad said quietly, still holding on to Ed's arm, “by abusing it for thirty years. They told me a long time ago to stop lifting things, but I took turns being too obstinate and too proud to listen. I wouldn't let friends help. Wouldn't let your mother help. Wouldn't listen to her when she begged me to get a different job. Ignored her when she said she didn't care about the money, that we'd make do. I had my pride, I thought. And I clung to it. You know what that bought me, son?” His eyes went hard, and he gestured across the room to the top of his dresser. “What I've got for that is a permanent backache and an industrial-sized bottle of Aleve that frankly don't do me much good.” His hand tightened briefly on Ed's arm. “If you need to slow down, you slow down. If you need to let someone help you, if someone is offering, you let them. And if you got to swallow your pride to do it, Ed—then you swallow. You swallow hard, boy. Because I want better for you than I got. It's too late for me. It isn't for you.”

  Ed stared down at the black garbage bag full of clothes. The tremors from earlier were gone, but damn if he didn't feel shaky all over again. He cleared his throat. “I don't like it, Dad.”

  His dad laughed. “Oh hell no, you won't like it. Not now, anyway. But you'll learn, son. You'll learn.”

  “Boys!” Annette called from the kitchen. “Dinner's ready!”

  For a minute, neither of them moved. But eventually Dick sighed and patted Ed on the back. “Come on, son,” he said, turning for the door.

  Ed waited until his dad was in the hall before he moved. With one eye on the door, he reached up and touched his neck tentatively. He held his breath a little as he tilted his head first to one side, then another, then, emboldened, did a small rotation.

  He thought of Laurie doing the shopping and the cooking for him.

  He thought of Laurie paying for everything.

  He thought of cleaning out a closet like this someday with Laurie, of sorting through clothes and odds and ends and things they'd collected together through their lives.

  He gave a small sigh and headed for the hall as well, though his hand stayed at his neck, massaging the cord of muscle absently until he came to the kitchen, where he quickly lowered his hand and pasted on a wide, cheerful smile.

  When the day finally came to have dinner with his parents and Oliver, Laurie was so worked up he thought he might explode.

  They headed over in Laurie's car, but Laurie was nervous, and Ed picked up on it and offered to drive. Halfway across town, Ed reached over and slid his hand over Laurie's thigh before claiming his hand.

  “We don't have to do this,” he said.

  “We do. Just please don't take my mother personally. She really does mean well.” He sighed and sank deeper into the seat, but his hand tightened on Ed's. “Though it might help that Oliver is there.” He bit his lip. “Or make it worse.”

  Ed squeezed again. “Want to turn around?”

  Laurie squeezed back. “No.”

  Oliver was already there when they arrived, and he greeted them on the porch.

  “Your mother is in the kitchen, slamming around her china. She's already broken three plates.” He said this casually, though, and winked when Laurie blanched. “It will be fine, boy. Why don't the two of you come inside? It's brittle cold
out there.”

  Laurie was pretty sure it was colder in the kitchen, but he came in anyway, tugging Ed along behind him. “Is the donor here?”

  Oliver had moved too far away, though, so Laurie was left to look around on his own. He saw Christopher and his own father, and he heard his mother in the kitchen. No one else was there yet.

  Ed was quiet. His head was turning around constantly as he took everything in. He hadn't seemed upset in the car, and he wasn't now, but he did have a decided deer-in-the-headlights look about him. Laurie thought of the eight million ways this could all go bad, and he considered, quite seriously, grabbing Ed's hand and pulling him back out the door again.

  But Oliver had taken their coats, and now they were all heading to the den, where Laurie's father and Oliver's partner were sitting in a pair of easy chairs, not talking to one another. Albert Parker was reading the paper, and Christopher was studying his fingernails, but when his partner came in, he smiled and reached over the back of his chair to slide his hand up his leg as Oliver came forward. He rose, too, and shook Ed's hand warmly as the two of them were introduced. Laurie had hung back through this, but when Oliver gave him a look, he hurried forward to do the same for Ed and his father. Though he only managed to open his mouth before Albert rose on his own and stared at Ed with astonishment.

  “Maurer. You're Ed Maurer. You played for the Lumberjacks!”

  Now it was Laurie who was staring, dumbfounded. “You...you know him?”

  “Know him! Hell, no. But I was there when he went down. Jesus, I can't believe you're standing here in front of me.” He stuck out his hand. “Al Parker.”

  Ed, surprised too but recovering quicker than Laurie, shook Al's hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  “I only get to games occasionally, but I love to watch football. Always have. Went to yours with an old business associate who got us right on the fifty-yard line. You play mean, boy. If I remember, you even tried to get up and play before they tied you back onto that stretcher!” Laurie's father chuckled and patted Ed enthusiastically on the back. He looked as if he'd opened a fortune cookie and found a hundred dollar bill instead of the trite advice he'd been expecting. “Long drive over here from the city, and it's cold. You'll want something to drink, I expect. Let's go raid my cabinet.”