I rolled him over and kissed down his chest. I don't think he shaves it, but he hasn't got a hair on it. Just the way I like it. When I got there, I licked up the length of him and slowly put the head in my mouth, looking up to see if he was watching. He was. I've told you before how much I love that. I wasn't sure how much of him I could take, but he kind of curves forward, which made it easier. I backed away a second just to study it. He has these beautiful veins. I buried my face in the mass of hair around that piece. It was intoxicating.
He put his hands around my head and before I knew it, I was nose deep in hair again, but this time he was buried deep down my throat. Eventually he tried to roll me over to stop me, but I was already on a roll. I don't think he ever met a worshipper before. I licked that boy along those throbbing veins, tempting him, and playing with him for a good thirty minutes. He was pleading with me, but I just ignored him. I knew there was no way he was going to get away without me tasting him. He was dying to get off, but just then I owned that man. By that time he'd given up trying to pleasure me. I think he finally realized he was doing that already.
I knew it was time and I stopped for a second to look at him. I leaned forward and whispered. "Okay, you ready?"
He sort of nodded, gasping a little, "Yes…please."
I plunged down on that boy and before I got back up, he'd started filling up my mouth. I sucked and swallowed as best I could. That big boy was loaded. The thing is, he was about to readjust his position to take care of me when I showed him it was too late. When he started filling me that was all I needed. I never even touched myself. That's never happened before. Afterward I explained worshipping.
He said, "You mean to tell me that you could finish me off day after day and wouldn't feel slighted if I wasn't doing the same thing to you?"
I told him eventually he probably would when it was something he really wanted to do, but unlike most guys, I was getting everything I needed pleasuring him. You'd have thought that boy just found out he'd hit the lottery.
Anyway, I'm seeing him again tomorrow.
Chapter Four
Jay
I was speechless. Marty got himself a man out in public, using a dog as bait.
"You big whore," I teased. Teasing was the best and quickest way I could think of to keep him from seeing how jealous I was. "I can't believe you got yourself a hunk like that chasing a little dog. Only you are that lucky. And to think, he loves to get what you like to give. So, Marty, if you're going to see him tomorrow, are you guys going out?"
Marty was only too quick to respond. "Hell no! We're staying in."
He wished me luck finding the little dog's owners. He'd only come over to tell me the story he'd just told me, so we both headed back to our own homes.
An hour had passed by the time Scratch and I got back to my apartment. None of the neighbors on the street had claimed him. Nobody else was out at this hour. I hoped to run into someone who might be out looking for him. Maybe he's chipped? I thought.
But it was bedtime. Further investigation would have to wait until tomorrow when I could take him somewhere to see if he'd been chipped.
Heading into the kitchen, I got out some leftovers and warmed them up a bit for Scratch. The planned dinner was already back in the freezer, so I made myself a bologna burrito, something I had developed a taste for since I had to fix my own meals. Scratch ate like he was starving. When he was done with his leftovers and the last of my burrito, I picked him up and headed upstairs. I got a blanket and made a little bed for him over in the corner. A moment later, I was in bed. Seconds after that, he joined me. After walking around a bit, Scratch decided he liked my pillow the best. Fight as I might, I spent the night sleeping with a little dog wrapped around my head.
As I drifted off to sleep, I was painfully aware that I was still sober. David's departure from my life felt a little less like the self-defining disaster it was at the beginning of the evening. Having a little dog to deal with took some of that pain away.
*~*~*
In the morning, I cleaned up, grabbed my keys and looked down at Scratch.
"Wanna go bye-bye?" Scratch seemed to innately know what I was suggesting. Maybe his owner talked to him a lot. It was easy to see that for a dog he was unusually bright.
Picking him up, I hopped in my little car and drove to the animal shelter. I wasn't about to leave him there, but I knew they'd check to see if he'd been chipped. As soon as I arrived, I was greeted by a young volunteer. She had long blond hair held in place with a loose braid. She had a look on her face of pity and love at the same time. It took me a moment to explain to her that I wasn't leaving Scratch at the shelter. I asked if they could check to see if he was chipped. A few minutes later, the vet waved a wand over him and told me there was no indication of it. After leaving a full description with pictures I'd printed from my little office printer and my contact information, I walked out with Scratch, still no closer to finding his owner.
On the way home, I stopped by the pet store to pick up some food and a leash. The store had a little table inside and standing behind it was a tall guy who was giving out cheap vaccines. Something told me it was a good idea to take advantage of that special. Part of the motivation might have been that the guy giving the shots was really hot. He had dark brown hair that might've been black. He was built like he spent most of his time in the gym. If I was 5' 9", I guessed he was easily 6' 2".
I stood in line behind a half dozen people with dogs of every possible description, watching as each one in turn stepped up to the table with their dog. While we waited, we filled out paperwork so the dogs could receive tags indicating they'd received the vaccines. Under the space entitled 'OWNER', I hesitated, thinking I should probably ask to see what the guy suggested. And it would give me something to talk to him about.
Watching how caring he was took most of my attention. He'd bend over to pet the little dogs and put them at ease, running his hands gently down their backs. His hands jutted out of the white lab coat he wore, a light layer of short black hairs tinting the backs. Realizing I was fixating on his hands, I looked away to clear my head, but soon turned back for a more detailed examination. It wasn't every day I saw a man who looked like him.
He had a set of steel-gray eyes that I could see even from the end of the line. The lab coat he wore looked a little out of place with blue jeans underneath and what appeared to be well-worn black work boots. As I looked up to those very special eyes once more, I realized he was looking at me too. For some reason, I felt as though he was looking deeper, like he could see some secret part of me. I turned away, not really knowing why, only to turn back moments later to see him smiling. I'd been caught. It was embarrassing, but I didn't care too much because catching me examining him seemed to make him happy.
Each of the dogs he treated took about five minutes of his time. I had to laugh, seeing how terrified the big dogs were compared to the little ones. Maybe the big dogs just aren't used to being on a table, I thought. I hoped Scratch would behave.
When we finally got to the head of the line, we were the last ones. I picked up Scratch and set him on the table and he began to tremble.
"There, there boy, it's just a little shot," he said. "Nice dog. Looks like a Papillion! How long have you had him?"
"Since just last night! Actually, he's a runaway. He just scratched on my door. Maybe that's how he got his name. Never saw him before. It was like he sort of knocked."
"You're lucky. These dogs are brilliant. He's full grown and looks to be about two or three. It takes them awhile to grow their full coat."
I hesitated before speaking again. This conversation sounded too much like one he'd have with a person who owned this dog. "I didn't fill out the owner's name," I said, my voice lower.
That didn't change the vet's expression. "If I were you, I'd write your name down and you can always put up posters or something. But if he's chosen you, my guess is he's staying." He reached out and offered me his hand. "By the way, I'm Ri
chard."
Those steel grey eyes were locked onto mine once again. This time I couldn't make myself look away. "Hi, Richard, my name's Jay and this is Scratch."
"Well, Jay, it's nice to meet you. Is it short for Jason?"
I finally forced myself to look down at Scratch. "No, my dad named his kids after birds. I have a twin brother Robin and older brother Finch."
Lowering Scratch to the floor, Richard said, "Twins? Are you identical?"
"No. We don't look anything alike. We're really close though. I don't see him much since we graduated. He works now, and I'm still going to school." Trying to get away from the story of my family, I decided to move the story back to business. "So this is a smart dog?" Looking into Richard's face for his answer gave me an excuse for a close examination and a close up of those eyes once again. He was clean shaven, but I could see his five o'clock shadow starting.
"Oh, yeah, you're a lucky man. If I were you, I'd hang on to that dog. He's a very old breed. They were bred from Spaniels centuries ago. You know those old portraits of French ladies with little dogs on their laps?"
"Yeah, I've seen pictures of them."
"Well this is the breed of dog in those pictures. They've been bred so long that most of the natural dog traits like snapping or excessive barking have been bred out of them." Walking me toward the check-out counter, he put his hand on my back, the way anyone would to reassure someone. But it sent a shockwave of anticipation through me.
The idea of owning a dog was becoming a lot more appealing. Apparently having a dog was a great way to meet guys. Marty met someone, and I was talking to a guy I'd never have even bumped into had it not been for the little dog. Richard obviously loved dogs. "I've never had a dog before. It'll take some getting used to. I guess I'll need to buy a few things."
Without a moment's hesitation, Richard was out of his lab coat. Turning me away from the checkout counter, he headed toward the dog section. In a moment, he was helping me pick out dog food and chew toys that were good for his teeth. I didn't know how to react. I wasn't used to this kind of service. Every time I looked at him, he was looking at me. Being around a man who looked as beautiful as he did and having him look at me was just making me want to look at him more. The very sound of his voice was getting to me. At one point he lowered it as though he were telling me a secret. In reality, he was telling me what not to buy, but just the sound of his voice in a whisper made me feel all weird inside.
I was drawn to him, but I never thought a guy like him would even be interested in me. Still, it got to the point where lingering around in the clinic any longer would seem weird. I turned my face aside, wishing there was something else I could say or ask, but I drew a blank.
"Well, thank you so much for your help. I should be going I guess." I reached out to shake his hand, only to look up into those eyes again. They seemed to bore down into me. Each time it felt harder to look away. He broke into a smile as he released his grip. I turned to walk to the cashier. Scratch was still on the rope I'd brought from home. As I headed toward the register, I felt him pull. Turning around, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. Scratch was squatting and about to relieve himself. "Scratch!"
Richard laughed and stood back a step just in time to save his shoe. "Don't yell his name negatively. A simple 'no' will do just fine. You never want a dog to associate his name with a negative command. People can think their way out of that association, but dogs can't. Sometimes adopted dogs need to have their name changed because using their name causes them to cringe." Shaking his head and looking away like he was remembering some other place, he said, "Some people shouldn't be pet owners. The shelters are filled with dogs whose owners gave up on them or never even looked for them if they ran off. I think you'll do better. You just seem like the kind of guy that wouldn't do that."
"I have so much to learn."
"Look, I get off in an hour. Why don't I come by your place and we can talk more about having a dog?"
My eyes widened. I couldn't think of a better idea. "Would you do that?" I asked, trying to be careful about just how eager I appeared.
"Sure, I'd like to see more of this little dog," he said, all the while staring into my eyes while he pet the top of Scratch's head.
As the odor from Scratch's accident became more apparent, I asked if they had anything I could clean up the mess with.
"The leash you are buying has little plastic bags in the handle. Pull one out and I'll show you how it's done."
I grabbed one of the bags and knelt down. Holding the bag in my right hand I was about to use it like a paper towel when Richard knelt down in front of me and took me by the wrist. He took the plastic bag and slowly slid it over my hand. "Think of this as the condom for your hand," he said in a whisper. Then he directed my hand over the small pile and pushed it down. I closed my hand around the small warm package and withdrew. Richard still had my wrist. I looked up and he was looking into my eyes again. "You close the bag, tie it shut, and drop it in the nearest garbage can."
We stood up together slowly. I tied off the bag, afraid to look up at Richard again, knowing he was going to give me one of those soul searching looks. I swear I could feel him reaching in and feeling around when he looked into my eyes.
After giving Richard my address and phone number and paying for Scratch's new things, I put Scratch in the car and sitting behind the wheel, said, "Good boy, Scratch. What'd I do without you?"
When Scratch and I arrived home, I started cleaning up the place frantically. It wasn't dirty, but I live alone, so it sometimes was a little messy.
Chapter Five
Jay
The last thing I put away was the bottle of scotch. Funny, I thought. I'm supposed to be drunk about now, lying in a pool of my own tears, wallowing in self-pity. I looked down at the little dog, who had a tendency to follow me wherever I went. This little guy interrupted my self-pity fest. "Thanks, boy."
With Scratch right behind me, I ran upstairs quickly, made the bed and picked up my room. I was about to jump in the shower when there was a knock at the door. Running down the stairs again, I opened the door and saw it was Logan.
"Oh, it's you," I said, disappointed. I hadn't planned it to sound the way it did.
"Well thanks a lot," he said after hearing the tone of my voice.
Except for Logan, all my friends in our circle were studying in the social sciences. Having shared classes with them, then recognizing them at gay parties, we soon became buddies.
When I met Logan we were both in our freshman year. We were at a party and everyone was paired up except us. The air was full of pot smoke. I don't usually do that mainly because I don't generally find the result pleasurable, but that night I did. As everything got kind of stupid, Logan and I paired up. It was nothing intimate. We'd cleared that up early on. That night we were on a mission. We were both hungry. Logan and I sat outside the oven while two potatoes baked in their foil wrappers. Imagine having a party and not having a microwave oven. This particular kitchen apparently had not been used much. Potatoes and butter were the only food they had, and most of the potatoes had to be discarded. We sat there for an hour talking and waiting for those potatoes to bake.
Logan liked me because I didn't judge him the way a lot of guys did. I liked him because he was seriously frank. As a result, we knew each other's life story in that hour we sat there. We didn't come across any ideas we didn't share. At the end of the hour, we slathered the potatoes with the last of the butter and ate them like two guys who hadn't eaten in days. By the time we were setting the dishes on the edge of the sink, the pot was wearing off and we'd somehow passed through a doorway to friendship.
Logan had historically shared his heartaches with me, and today I was scheduled to share mine with him, except, I didn't need that anymore. He'd shown up like a good best friend should to patch me together after David, not knowing the sting had been washed away by a piercing gaze from a pair of steel-gray eyes thanks to Scratch.
"Log
an, twenty four hours ago I needed your shoulder to cry on, but something bizarre happened and everything's changed." I stepped aside to show Logan my new little dog. "Logan, I would like you to meet Scratch." The little black and white dog was sitting in front of Logan and as if by command, he sat on his haunches and straightened up. He held it for a few seconds, which couldn't have been too easy for a little dog with a long body.
"What an adorable little dog. Where'd you get him?"
"I didn't. He got me. Yesterday, he just showed up out of the blue scratching at the front door. I took him to the pet store to get a few things for him, and I met the most amazing guy working there. His name is Richard and he's coming over here in just a few minutes to give me dog care lessons."
"Sooo… your broken heart over David is on hold now because you turned into a big whore and picked up some guy at the pet store? My guess is you need me to get out of here, right?" Logan could be sarcastic, but I knew he was understanding.
I nodded my head apologetically.
"I'll call you in the morning, but I want all the dirt then," he said as he turned away to head back down the walkway to the sidewalk.
"I promise."
"Hey, have fun."
As Logan got into his car, I saw a motorcycle coming down the street. On it was a man wearing a helmet with a denim jacket and heavy black leather boots. It took a moment, but as he approached the driveway, I recognized Richard from the store.
"Are you all right?" Logan asked when I didn't respond.
"That's him on the motorcycle. Now take off."
Logan backed into the street and slowly pulled away, looking as hard as he could at the strange motorcycle rider who was just arriving. He'd just have to be patient for now. The helmet had a tinted visor and there was no way he could see the face inside.
Scratch the Matchmaker Page 2