by Skyler Snow
Stifling a laugh, I swung out of my seat and took Jack by the hand, giving Scott and Elliot an overdramatic bow.
“We’ll be taking our leave now! Goodnight!”
Tugging on Jack’s wrist, I pulled us both out of the apartment into the hall, closing the door behind us. He seemed a little confused for a moment but then he looked down. At where my hand remained wrapped around his wrist. Finally, I let go and cleared my throat nervously.
“What was that for?” Jack asked. He wasn’t angry, just curious.
“Elliot was drunk and he was starting to get touchy with Scott. Better to leave before we saw something we might regret.” I said simply, shrugging. “Actually I think it’s more likely you.” There was no point beating around the bush.
“Ahhn,” Jack said, “Well I guess if I’m going to be around my son and his boyfriend I should become accustomed to a degree of PDA.”
I smiled. I was glad that it didn’t really embarrass him all that much either. He still shivered, probably grossed out thinking about it.
“Yeah there are some things a father doesn’t need to see.” I snort chuckled, at the image that must have permeated his mind. “Yeah I definitely didn’t need the visual.”
I was right about the whole grossed out situation. We just stood there for a moment, both of us trying to sober up.
“So you stripped?” Jack finally asked and I couldn’t help but laugh. It was getting late and I knew that I got loud when I was drunk, but I couldn’t help it. After hearing that his son was probably having sex, his mind was on me.
“Yup. Just for a little while, but it was fun while it lasted.” I finally managed to collect myself enough to say. Jack wasn’t asking more questions but I knew that he was curious. “It was when I was starting to get into drawing professionally and I wanted to get better at drawing bodies. So I went to the place where there are naked people literally posing and dancing all the time and just sat down and drew. With permission of course. I used to talk to the dancers and even danced when the place was closed. Eventually the folks there thought it was a good idea to give me a job.”
“So you actually danced?” He asked, amused.
“Some. I actually worked as a bartender there, too, but I danced mostly. It was a pretty diverse scene, and it was fun, but my friends wanted to form a startup and I like to chase ridiculous dreams.” I smiled. “I had to quit. It’s all good, though. I like my job.”
A lot of the dancers were still my friends so there wasn’t actually a lot of regret. I had a good time and that was what mattered in the end. In the back of my mind I wondered if I would regret talking about this, but it didn’t matter. That was a problem for future, sober me.
“Well I’m glad that you’re happy now. It sounds like you’ve lived a pretty eventful life.” Jack said as we began to walk down the hall.
Jack veered off into the hallway with the elevators and before I could tell him that it was pointless, there was a ding and the doors opened. He looked over at me, questioningly.
“Are you gonna get in?”
I scrambled in before the doors could close and sighed. God, I hated elevators. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to stand in a little, locked box while traveling a stupid number of floors? But I hated stairs more.
Jack pushed the button for the ground floor and the descent began and both of us stood there in silence. I fidgeted with my fingers. How the hell was I gonna get home? Grabbing the bus would be a pain in the ass and a taxi could get expensive. My eyes darted over to Jack. He looked nice, leaning against the elevator wall, his brown eyes gazing ahead of him.
Maybe taking the elevator over the stairs was a perk. At least this was going right for me. I wouldn’t trip and fall and break my neck—
The elevator stopped with a jolt. Not the type of stop to pick up more people. The type of jolt that meant that it was stuck. A moment passed and Jack clicked a button, trying to see if the doors would open. Another moment passed. Nothing.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I jammed my finger against the call button again and again. “Hello? Hello!”
It took a minute before a voice rang over our heads, obviously annoyed by our distress call. “We’ll send someone for you.” She practically snapped, and the line went dead before either one of us could respond. I couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of it all as my anxiety choked me.
“So, how are you Jack?” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans and tried to pretend I wasn’t completely freaking out.
11
Jack
“So do you have any old war stories? Anything fun that you witnessed in the 80s?” Tom asked. We were both sitting on the floor of the elevator now, which must have gotten stuck maybe fifteen minutes ago. Time dragged and our phones couldn’t pick up any service. We were the only entertainment we had for each other and I was trying to keep Tom from freaking out.
“The 80s were a wild time. I was a teenager, so I caught the tail end of it.” I glanced over at Tom. He was sitting with his legs pulled up close to his body, his sweater tossed to the side. I couldn’t help taking in the fact that the white tank top he wore underneath, barely concealed his body. His eyes were closed and it looked like he was trying to soothe himself, but it wasn’t working.
“There were a lot of drugs.”
“You? A hippie?” He asked, his gaze suddenly focusing on me, probably intrigued by the probability of a good story. I understood his surprise. I was clean shaven, my hair styled, in relatively good shape and I dressed like a working guy. It must be a stretch of the imagination.
“Yup. I’ve smoked weed, tried shrooms a couple of times, I tried acid once… nothing serious.” I shrugged. “It was the 80s after all. It was what everyone was doing.” I tried not to sound too proud of it, but I couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction when I saw Tom’s expression.
Not just some old man now, huh.
“Fuck, dude. That’s pretty wild. What was it like?” He seemed to have his breathing under control now, and although I could still see the haze of alcohol in his eyes, he was definitely not as drunk as he was earlier. A spark of excitement replaced the panic I’d seen in his eyes, and it had my heart beating a little faster.
“Well, if you’re into having your mind altered, fuckin’ magical. But it wasn’t really my thing.” I remembered it as much as I could that was. “But then it was followed by hours just talking with friends, toying with even the stupidest ideas. Then you’d wake up the next day with a deep sort of understanding. Everything felt important at the time.” I shook my head at the memory, “It was definitely interesting times, and if you weren’t careful, you went from recreational marijuana down a path you couldn’t come back from. Still, I’m glad that I got to experience it.”
“Yeah, I can imagine, the first time I smoked weed, I was so mellow. As you may have noticed I am not a mellow guy.” Tom sighed wistfully and I glanced up at him. I wasn’t too surprised that Tom had a wild side.
“You aren’t still doing it now, are you?” I asked.
“Well weed but it’s legal and only sometimes, but nothing else. You know growing up and all, equals #Teamgainfullyemployed.”
“Ohh, I totally get that.” I said, “Elliot, graduating and it definitely wasn’t legal then. So a job brought stability, but my God, those days where everything felt so easy, alive and free.” I smiled, “They were definitely hard to forget.”
“Don’t worry, Jack. I’m not gonna corrupt Elliot. He’s got Scott to take care of him and God knows that Connie would beat my ass if she ever heard me trying to push drugs onto him.” He sighed again and stared off into the distance.
“I know you’re not a bad influence on Elliot, you’ve been good for him,” I reassured him.
“Thank you,” Tom shot me a smile.
After that the silence dragged on for what felt like hours, but was probably just a few minutes. I was tempted to maybe try to call with the elevator again, but the last time we
did that, we didn’t get an answer.
“Do you have anyone?”
I didn’t even know that I had asked the question until Tom turned to look at me. He looked dishevelled stripped down to just his white tank top and his black skinny jeans. Like some biker boy in a 90s movie.
“Nope. Don’t have anyone.” He said simply, shaking his head and making his dark hair fall into his eyes. There was a vulnerability to the move. And it was strange to see him like that, he suddenly looked so small. And I wanted to pull him into my arms. He was usually on, like he was sometimes playing a part. Right now he was not trying to be funny or wise or interesting. Just… being a person. “Do you?”
“Nope. At least no one serious, Not since Elliot was really young.” I tried not to think about it too much. We didn’t talk and it was a messy ordeal that I didn’t like to remember too often. It left me a sort of an emotional wreck that if not for Scott I would have wallowed in. It took a long time for him to pull me back from the brink, but I never got back into dating. The closest thing to it I ever got to was my feelings for Scott, but that had been a passing feeling that had quickly fizzled into nothing. It was easy to think you’d fallen for someone when they’d made it their mission to make sure you were okay.
“Damn, not even to get laid? Like, what. Twenty some years?” Tom looked me over with a critical eye and it made me feel an uncomfortable prickling sensation all over my body. He was looking me over like I was a giant stack of chocolate chip pancakes drizzled with maple syrup after a cleanse. “That’s a long time I bet you could have a chance if you actually tried, man.”
“Not really trying.” I was starting to feel a little hot in the face and Tom, of course, noticed immediately. Moving slowly, he got onto his hands and knees and crawled toward me, his bright blue eyes fixed on my face.
“Seems like you still have a chance even when you’re not.” He was nearly in between my legs now, the lingering smell of alcohol on his breath. My brain had completely short circuited as I watched him move closer. The way that his back was arched, the freckles on his face standing out more now since he was blushing. His slender frame gaining a strange, hypnotic sort of rhythm to his movements.
Fuck he would be beautiful on a pole. I could imagine he was popular when he worked as a stripper.
The thought flashed across my mind for a moment, the thought of him tossing aside his clothing as he danced with dollar bills fluttering around him. He surely could have made a fucking boatload of money if he had continued and it seemed like he had never really worked that part of him out of his personality. That flirty, teasing attitude. The unexpected grace in his movements.
“W-what are you doing?” I stammered, pushing my back against the wall as if I could go any further.
“What does it look like?” He purred, his hands sliding closer and closer to me as I sucked in a breath and held it. “Is this bothering you?”
I was about to explode. It was unfair to push a man that had kept his lust in check for two decades. My brain was completely filled with images of Tom in my lap, his fingers on my face and chest before he disappeared between my thighs to taste my cock. Why the hell was it so damn hot in this elevator!
“Ha! Your face!” Tom’s eyes flew open with an alertness that wasn’t there just a moment ago and he sat back on his heels, a wide grin on his face. My heart was still racing in my chest and now my brain was trying to keep up with whatever was happening here. “I guess I still have it. Maybe I should get back into stripping, just part time.”
“What the hell, Tom?” I tried to feel angry, but I couldn’t. Either I was still too stunned to feel much of anything or I was starting to get used to all the crazy shit Tom pulled. However this still felt like it was a bit much and I was left dazed.
“Not sure. Why do we do anything, really?” He was still in my personal space but at least he wasn’t fucking crawling toward me. His gaze was more focused and aware now but he was still looking me over. Tom’s gaze felt like a physical sensation on my skin making me tingle from head to toe.
“That’s not an answer and you know it.”
Tom sighed, starting to fidget again. I don’t know how he usually is after a few drinks, but I secretly hoped that this was some sort of special treatment. Not likely, since sober Tom was already a flirt and ready to do whatever came to his mind, but a part of me wanted him to want me. I wanted him to be flirting with me because he actually wanted me and not just because he was after a reaction.
“I like the attention. I like getting reactions. I like having eyes on me.” His voice had dropped back into that seductive purr and he was posing now. Just a slight adjustment to how he had been sitting before, but it made all the difference in the world. He was showing off his skinny waistline and his toned legs and his fingers were tugging at his bottom lip with his blue eyes burning my skin like he was damning me to hell.
It isn’t fucking fair how he can just do that.
“Won’t you give me some attention? I’ll make it worth your while.” His hands went from his lips down to his neck, his chest, his stomach, and then finally down to his thighs. Everything about it seemed so fluid and natural that it almost seemed rehearsed. How many times had he done this? Seduced people who caught his eye?
He was leaning forward now and his hand landed on my thigh, immediately making me aware of how fucking hard I was. His hand was just a few inches away from the bulge in my pants and I prayed that he wouldn’t move and feel it. His breath was on my face again, lips just inches from mine. I felt my entire body tense up, not sure what I should do.
Yes, Tom was incredibly sexy. But this isn’t how I wanted him or anyone else. Just being another notch on someone’s bedpost after waiting so long felt cheap. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop.
And then the elevator began to move again. Tom looked up, not in surprise but rather just observing, then got to his feet, picked up his sweater and put it back on. I was still sitting on the elevator floor with a rock hard erection and a brain going through a meltdown. He looked down at me and then smiled.
“Better get up and compose yourself before the doors open.” He winked at me.
I jumped to my feet, trying to adjust my pants so it wouldn’t be so obvious that I was erect, but Tom had already seen it. Probably felt proud of it, honestly. He was definitely the type to tease.
Even though I was a few inches taller than him, it seemed like he loomed over me. Everything about him was enticing; his soft hair, his freckled face, his smooth skin, the hidden curves of his body, his long legs. My gaze landed on all of it.
And then the elevator doors opened.
“This isn’t over,” I murmured, just loud enough so Tom heard me.
12
Tom
“Fuuuuuuuuck.” I moaned the moment I woke up. The dry, aching feeling in my throat refused to let up no matter how many times I swallowed and it felt like there was a metal band playing in my head. A loud, screeching pain sounded in my temples that would let up just for a minute before coming back with a vengeance.
I was sweaty, too. I fell asleep in my sweater and jeans, but at least I had the fucking brains to take off my shoes this time. Last time I woke up with a hangover this bad, I also woke up with muddy sheets.
I gave myself just another minute to relax the best I could with all the fucking screaming from my body.
Why wasn’t I one of those people who went out drinking and woke up without a hangover? Or at least with just a headache. I was one of those who woke up the next morning like they had just been hit by a truck and then dropped into a meat grinder. There was a dull ache in my bones and all of my muscles had gone stiff while I slept. It was one giant symphony of pain.
But I knew how to cope with it. I rolled out of bed, not bothering to open my eyes. Instead I shuffled through my apartment, letting the cool air soothe my body for a while as I made my way to the bathroom to wash my face. I cupped my hands after splashing water on my face and drank some as well.
Good start, at least.
The headache was already starting to let up a little with the water and I knew what to do to get through the rest of the day. Because, of course, today was a work day. I stripped, feeling a bit more awake and got into the shower turning on the water until it was almost too hot to bear. I sat down, too tired to stand and tried to wash off. The hot water sank into my skin, making the aches ease up. I took the time to condition my hair too, sighing happily.
Wasn’t there something so damn luxurious, relaxing and refreshing about washing your hair?
When I was done, I stepped out and wiped the steam from the mirror the best I could. In the reflection my skin was bright red and I sighed when I saw the faint blue circles under my eyes. Still I wasn’t looking as bad as I felt. I found my phone in my jeans and dumped it out before I tossed them into the laundry basket.
I learned my lesson after putting my new iPhone through a rinse cycle after a night out drinking, now I always emptied the pockets first.
“Alright, alright.” I whispered to myself, checking my phone. I still had an hour and a half before I actually had to leave my apartment to go pick everyone up. There were a few notifications from friends, a few clients asking about commissions, Elliot, of course, and…Jack. He texted me last night.
“Jack…” There was something about the fact that he texted me that had a cold fear washing over me but why? I searched my mind for a moment. We talked about his problems, but that wouldn’t be something to be afraid of. He came out and that was something to be celebrated. I got drunk, we left together and—
“Oh, the elevator.”