by Tanya Chris
“Poor ugly stepsister. I never thought of it that way.”
“Exactly. No one does. But the actor playing the role needs to. Every show is all about me, because in real life that’s how we are.”
“OK, according to Joshua, Othello is about a soldier forced to submit to a master he despises but everyone else adores. He seeks revenge by exposing his master’s true nature. When Othello kills his wife, it vindicates his judgment.”
“An excellent summary. If you’re Iago.”
“And if you’re Othello?”
“Then it’s a story of betrayal—betrayed by his wife, betrayed by his best friend, betrayed by his faithful servant.”
“I thought it was a story of jealousy.”
“Iago’s jealousy. Othello thought he could keep the good things he’d earned, but he didn’t count on jealousy. When you’re flying high, it pisses people off. They want to take you down. Jealousy is the weapon Iago uses to take Othello down, but it’s also the reason for the take-down.”
“Are you a jealous guy, Nate?”
“Not like that.” I didn’t mention the pangs. “Neither is Othello. Iago preys on his insecurities—what will people think of him when they find out what his wife and best friend are up to? That’s a universal insecurity—what people think of you—but for me—and for Joshua, I guess—I don’t care if people know a woman I’m sleeping with is sleeping with someone else because no one ever said she couldn’t. It’s not a matter of personal pride.”
“With some people it’s more than pride. Some people would mind even if no one else knew. They want to own.”
“I don’t want to own.” I shook my head to emphasize my words. “Sometimes I’d like to belong.”
“That’s why I have the best of both worlds.”
“I know.” Lucky Sherry. Lucky Joshua. “What was up with Joshua earlier, though? I’d swear he was jealous.”
“Don’t you know?” She giggled. “Oh my God, you don’t.” Her humor—the reason for which still escaped me—lent an extra lilt to her words. “Joshua’s not jealous because you’re fooling around with me. He’s jealous because you’re not fooling around with him.”
She giggled some more while I blinked at her in stupefied silence.
“OK, it’s not funny to you. Sorry. I’ll behave.” She reached over me to grab the tequila, then sat back on her heels. “Joshua is bisexual,” she said, when I still hadn’t responded. “Is that a problem with you?”
“No. It’s a surprise, but it’s not a problem. I’m not, though.”
“Believe me, we’ve figured that out. But if Joshua was sulking, which I admit he was a bit, that’s why. Don’t worry, he’ll get over it. You’re cute, but the bars are full of cute guys who just love married men. And black men. Oh my God, straight black men—to die for.” She flounced in a stereotypical imitation of a gay man.
“But he’s not straight.”
“To them, he’s straight. The LGBT world totally marginalizes the B. It’s either a betrayal, like Joshua is a gay guy trying to pass, or a fetish—fuck the straight, married guy. The possibility that he actually likes both men and women doesn’t enter people’s minds.”
“I guess I’ve always thought that way myself, now that you mention it. People are either gay or straight or lying.”
“Not fair. Why should it be so absolute? Nothing else in life is.”
“Good point. How about you?” I cupped one of her breasts. Some feeling had started to return to my dick. “Are you bi?”
“Now you’re thinking about a threesome.” She flicked a fingernail at my slowly expanding dick. “Two women, right? The answer is no. Sorry, blue eyes.”
“That’s OK. I don’t think I could handle more than one of you anyway.” I took the tequila bottle from her and put it on the nightstand.
“I do sometimes wonder if a woman would be better orally,” she said as I rotated her onto her back and shifted myself over her. “Joshua says guys give the best blowjobs.”
I kissed my way down her body, pausing at the big, brown nipples, then again at the squishy pit of her navel. She sighed when I reached her pussy and threaded a hand through my hair.
“I don’t see how it could be any better than this though,” she said, her voice deep and languid. She wiggled her hips so that she could press against my mouth more firmly. “I’ll bet lesbians have got nothing on you.”
Chapter 7
After what felt like no hours of sleep, I put on yesterday’s clothes and stumbled bleary-eyed out of Sherry’s bedroom leaving her naked and tangled in the sheets, fast asleep. Joshua stood at the kitchen counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He wagged the pot at me and I nodded.
“Giving up already?” He waved to where a carton of milk sat out.
“I’ve got someplace to be, unfortunately.”
“Anything good?”
“A date. Wish me luck with that.” Where I would find the energy to keep Jenny from feeling like an also-ran in last night’s sex marathon, I didn’t know.
“Yeah, Sherry can really suck you dry. You got time for breakfast?”
When I nodded, he took bacon and eggs out of the refrigerator and put a skillet on the stove.
“Let’s get some protein into you. Put some pep back in your pecker.”
I watched Joshua make breakfast with tired eyes, trying to envision the caffeine dancing through my veins to my brain. Joshua, dressed in nothing but a pair of sweat pants that had been cut off mid-thigh, looked healthy and alert in comparison to how I felt, which was basically like a used rag. Sherry hadn’t sucked me dry so much as wrung me out.
“I won’t ask you how it went last night,” he said as he set a plate in front of me. “I heard most of it.”
“Sorry.”
What had almost seemed normal last night seemed anything but in the light of day. I’d fucked this man’s wife, this man I wanted to call my friend, this man who, as it turned out, wanted to fuck me.
“Eh, no big deal.” He took a seat next to me with a plate of his own. “I enjoyed it, truth be told, but don’t get the idea that I’m into some kind of cuckold scenario where I’m the worthless worm and you’re the big black cock. It’s got nothing to do with being inadequate.”
“No, I get it. If she were a stranger having sex on screen it would be hot, so why isn’t it hot when you know her and she’s in the next room? I have the same thing.”
“Except I have it double because the guy in that scenario is hot, too.” He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and looked at me hesitantly. “If it doesn’t bother you too much that I think about you that way.”
“No. Sherry clued me in about ... that. An audience is an audience. I enjoy performing.”
“Then let me just say—” He gave me a slow clap.
“So we’re really OK? I’d understand if you were upset with me. I dished out a double whammy last night. You wanted one thing and instead of that, you got this.”
“I’m not upset with you. I don’t know what exactly you thought was going on between the two of us though.”
“OK, in retrospect, there were certain signs I overlooked.” All that physical contact for one thing, some of which I’d initiated myself.
“Dude, I asked you out on a date.”
“You were kidding.”
“No. I wasn’t.”
“Sorry. It goes to show how heterosexual I am. It never even occurred to me. I was just stupid happy to be making a friend, which sounds pathetic now that I say it out loud.” I shrugged at my plate. “I felt comfortable with you.”
“Don’t stop feeling comfortable with me. I won’t pounce on your ass.”
“We can still be friends?”
“You remember how you said you’d rather be my friend than have sex with Sherry? I guess I’d rather be your friend than have sex with you. I mean, if those are my two choices.”
“Making me breakfast, sharing your wife. You’re the best friend I’ve got at this point.”
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“About that. Sherry’s pretty fickle. Sometimes she gets on a run with a guy, but I’m the only one she’s ever bonded with long term.”
“Understood.” Though I sincerely hoped that Sherry and I hadn’t rung down the curtain on our last performance, I couldn’t expect a long term relationship from a married woman. “How about we agree that nothing between me and Sherry comes between me and you.”
“Deal.” He offered his hand for a manly shake. “This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“Did you just quote Casablanca at me? That’s it, I’m in love.”
“Hey, now.” He dropped my hand and held his up as if to ward me off. “I fuck around with guys. I don’t fall in love with them.”
“Sure, you have to draw the line somewhere.”
“OK, it’s not a principle, but in practice, I don’t develop romantic feelings towards guys, only women. Can’t say why.”
“So guys are basically sex objects to you? That’s all kinds of backwards, dude.”
“What can I say? I’m a horndog for the D.” He cleared our empty plates to the dishwasher, then started washing the skillet.
“Are you allowed to have sex with other women? I mean, what have you and Sherry agreed to—is it just guys with you or whatever?”
“I’m allowed either way, but it’s usually guys. I get enough hetero sex from Sherry—as you can probably imagine—unless she’s going through an obsession with some guy who doesn’t share nice.”
“When she develops an obsession with me, I promise to share nice.”
“You think so, huh?” He stopped what he was doing to turn and give me a mocking glance.
“I haven’t lost that bet yet.”
“You haven’t won it either. You going back in there to solidify your position?”
“No, I’ve got to get going. Hey, thanks for the eggs, for the bed. For everything.” I went over to him and held out my hand, but he gave me a wink and pulled me in for a hug instead. His soapy hands made damp spots on the back of my shirt.
I usually felt awkward hugging another guy, like it was important to make sure the wrong parts didn’t touch, but I let myself sink into Joshua’s arms. We’d known each other three days and already there were no secrets between us.
“Give Sherry a kiss for me.”
“Count on it.”
As I left the house, I found there was some bounce in my step after all.
Chapter 8
Jenny turned out to be exactly what I needed after a long night of Sherry—sweet and daylight-bright where Sherry was spicy and made me think of twilight. The weather was perfect for climbing, unexpectedly warm but without the humidity that would come later in the year.
Theater would always be my first passion, but after Lissie brought me to the climbing gym for my birthday last year I ended up with a vague interest in climbing and a definite interest in seeing Lissie and Derek hook up, which eventually led to that threesome we enjoyed one night on a climbing trip.
But now that I lived with a climber—two, if you counted Amanda, who was more at our place more than her own—was dating another, and knew several more, why not climb? Theater was a great hobby if you wanted to save money on sunscreen. Getting outside now and then made a good change up, though I enjoyed watching Jenny climb more than I enjoyed climbing myself.
I happily spent the afternoon at the crowded crag belaying her and taking an occasional run up one of the easier routes when she insisted. Everyone complained about the clusterfuck of climbers and children and dogs, but I enjoyed the buzz. Jenny knew everyone, so soon I knew everyone too.
“That’s Tommy.” She pointed at a short, stocky figure halfway up the forty foot cliff. “He’s pretty good, don’t you think?”
“Who am I to judge” Instead of watching Tommy, I watched Jenny watching Tommy. “You like him?”
“No. I don’t know. He’s really young.”
“He looks like he’s of age.”
“Yeah, but younger than I am. And short.”
“Shorter than you are?”
“No. That would be short.” Jenny was only five two.
“So what’s the difference? I mean, I don’t know why it would matter even if he was shorter than you. I don’t get that about women.”
“I’ve just always gone for guys who were taller and older.” She grinned up at me. “Like the white knight come to rescue me.”
“Well, if you’re ever in a situation where a rescue would involve climbing, go with Tommy.”
I remembered Joshua coming to my rescue at the read-through, staking a claim on me like my own white knight. Taller, older, protective. Jenny would like him. I liked him. I just didn't like like him.
The sunlight and fresh air, not to mention the exercise, drained what was left of my energy. Fortunately, Jenny preferred undemanding sex because that was all I had in me. After we showered together—Jenny was the shower-first kind—I carried her to my bed and walked us through a quickie.
She could only come once per session no matter what I tried, so I kept the foreplay to a minimum, bringing her to orgasm with my fingers while she rode on top of me and then flipping her into missionary so I could finish myself off. If I only cared about sex, like Derek thought, I wouldn’t still be seeing her, but Jenny was a fun date and a champion cuddler and I didn’t only care about sex. If she was happy with our sex life, I was happy with it.
When we finished, I lent her a pair of gym shorts that came halfway down her calves, and a t-shirt that came halfway down her thighs, and we snuggled together on the couch to watch television. Jenny preferred reality TV shows about cooking or fashion, even though she ate very little and was usually dressed in climbing clothes.
“You ever met anyone online?” she asked me when a commercial came on for eHarmony.
“Not met, no. In high school, I had a profile on a few sites. I’d chat with women but I never met any of them in person.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be eighteen to use those sites?”
“That’s why I never met anyone. I took a few badly-lit selfies where I figured I could pass for twenty-one and hit on all the hot thirty-year-olds.”
“And got shot down?”
“Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I couldn’t meet them anyway. At sixteen, I looked like I was fourteen, except taller. I got really fast at typing with my thumbs though.”
“People don’t even chat anymore.” Jenny scrunched her nose up in disapproval. “They just swipe and fuck.”
“Depends on the site, I think. Have you been trying to navigate the wonderful world of online dating?”
She tilted her head up at me. “Maybe. Sorry, I’m not trying to rub your face into it. It just came up.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” The thought of her with another man didn’t turn me on the way it had with Lissie, maybe because I knew there was zero chance of talking Jenny into a threesome, but it didn’t bother me either. “I’m surprised you need to, though.”
“It’s not like this isn’t nice to do every once in a while, but it’s not what I want forever. You already told me—”
“Whoa,” I interrupted. “I meant that I’m surprised you’d need to use an online dating service. I know I’m not your happy-ever-after.” I dipped my head to give her a kiss. “Now, what’s wrong with those guys at the gym that you’d need to search online?”
“The question is, what’s wrong with me? I’d pretty much figured Derek must be gay, but then he ended up with Amanda, so apparently not. No one ever asks me out at the gym, even though everyone’s always saying what a meat market it is, and now I’m using this app and the only guys I match with are these freaks who send me pictures of their dicks before they even say hello. So what’s wrong with me that no one nice wants to date me? I’m sick of hooking up. It’s not fun anymore. It’s discouraging.”
“First of all, Derek—” I paused, trying to find a way to explain to Jenny why Derek preferred Amanda without giving away the exa
ct details of why Derek preferred Amanda. They kept the BDSM in their bedroom, although once you knew what was going on, there were telltale signs scattered throughout their relationship. “Derek’s had a crush on Amanda since he met her, which I think was before he met you, right?”
“He was serious about her way back then?”
“In Derek’s mind, they were destined for each other. In fact, there might be previous lives involved.”
“Wow, I never knew he was so romantic.”
“About Amanda, yes. As for the rest of those dudes, I can probably guess what your problem is. You’re unattainable—cute, blond, petite, and a better climber than most guys, definitely a better climber than all those guys online. Let me see your photos.”
Jenny collected her phone from my bedroom and we swiped through her profile photos together.
“That’s what I thought.” I stopped on a picture of her horizontal under a large outward thrust of rock, one foot hooked over her head and one hand reaching back for the chalk bag behind her. “Ninety percent of the guys who see this are going to be intimidated and the other ten percent are the dice-rollers who figure if they hit on enough women, someone is bound to say yes. They’re the ones sending you photos of their anatomy.”
“Does that ever work?”
“It must, or they’d stop. Or maybe they do stop but there’s always a fresh wave of horny eighteen-year-olds with the same theory to take their place.”
Jenny pondered her phone, her hips snug against mine and her shoulder tucked into my chest. After a moment, she leaned her head back against my shoulder and closed her eyes. “So you’re saying I should take the climbing photo down?”
“No, I’m saying you deserve a man who won’t be intimidated by all the wonderful that you are.” As beautiful as Jenny was, she’d be wasted on someone who only wanted eye candy. “Maybe this app isn’t the best idea. The gym feels like the right place, but you might need to expand your vision. Or lower it, as the case may be.”
