by Ryan Taylor
Aaron held up a bag. “Bagels, baby… and coffee.” He showed me a tray holding two tall cups, which he put down on the console table by the door before pulling me into his arms. He was sweaty, the man musk much stronger than the night before. It wasn’t unpleasant—in fact, I felt a definite twitch in my tallywhacker.
I squeezed him hard. “You scared me. I thought you’d—”
His eyebrows shot up and he shook his head quickly. “I’m sorry, Matt. I wake up early, and you were sleeping so well that I didn’t want to bother you, so I just went with it. I found the gym downstairs and did a workout, then ran to the bagel shop across the street.”
I gave him a big kiss, morning breath be damned. “Sorry for being stupid.”
“You weren’t. I should’ve left a note.”
The bagels were delicious, but the view was much better. Aaron, tousled hair and all, was a glorious sight at my breakfast table, sure to fuel fantasies for months to come. He went through two bagels with cream cheese and smoked salmon in the same time it took me to eat half of one, and then sat grinning at me while I nibbled away. I pushed my second bagel across the table, and he tucked right in.
“Last night was incredible,” he said, pink tinging his ears. “I never came that hard before.”
Right. I rolled my eyes. “Bullshit. You say that to all the—” He cocked his head and turned his mouth down. “Sorry,” I said, remembering my promise. “It was amazing for me, too. I came so hard that I’ll probably be satisfied until March.”
His low chuckle caused a reaction that gave the lie to what I’d just said, and the glimmer in his eyes was sinful. “I hope that’s hyperbole because I’m nowhere near ready to wait until March.”
Aaron
I finally went home on Sunday night, and the bed was so cold and empty that I almost called Matt to see if I could go back. Not wanting to seem pathetic and needy, I resisted, but there was no doubt about it—I had it bad. Matt Kennington was different from any man I’d ever met, and I couldn’t get enough of him.
I told him I wasn’t just after sex, and I wasn’t. I was sick of Grindr hookups and so-called relationships that were based solely on zig-a-zig. I needed somebody to care about, and to care about me. If there was any luck in the world, Matt would prove to be that somebody.
Just as I was getting sleepy, my brother Ben called. “What do you make of this about Mom’s heart?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. I talked to her and she said she’s sure it’s her heart, but the doctors disagree.”
He was quiet for a minute. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” Thinking about it made me nervous. “She’s never exaggerated things. Doctors know what EKGs say, but Mom knows what she feels.” I forced myself to let go of the stranglehold I had on my sheets. “I did some research, and it looks like EKGs don’t necessarily show anything until somebody’s already had a heart attack. Her pain could be a prelude.”
“Exactly what I read,” he said. “That’s why I’m going to leave work early tomorrow and drive out to Wainscott.” Ben was an associate at a law firm in Manhattan, so he was much closer to home than I was.
A little of the tension in my gut let go. “Thanks, man. Call me tomorrow night, let me know what you think?”
“You got it, bro. I guess I’d better let you go.”
“Thanks again. Sleep well.”
“Wait!” He chuckled. “How’s it going with that guy?”
Ben was my best friend, and I’d told him all about Matt. “Really well, actually. I’m thinking it might take off…. Or maybe it’s already taken off.” Ben snickered and I had to join in. “Yeah, to tell the truth, it’s already taken off.”
“That’s great! I hope it works out.” Ben had always been my second-biggest cheerleader, right after Mom. “Have a pic of him?”
I’d have been proud to publish Matt’s picture in the New York Times. “Sure thing, hold on.” I texted Ben a selfie Matt and I took when we were bowling.
“Incoming.” I heard the phone shift around, and then he was back. “Wow! He’s a cutie, man. Good for you, you deserve it.” He gave his big brother evil chuckle. “Go jerk off over your guy and get some sleep. Motherfuckin’ Monday’s coming right up.”
Monday, December 12
Aaron
I had two client meetings back to back, but found a few minutes to talk to Matt. He had on skin-tight navy blue pants, and between thinking about that gorgeous ass on the other side of the fabric, and not being able to stop staring at the dick clearly visible in front, my own cock was locked in perma-semi mode all morning.
“Want to grab lunch?” I asked him, after my second client had gone.
He replied with a faint smile. “I’d love to, but I can’t. Herb gave me a shit-ton of stuff I have to get back to him by three. Rain check?”
“No prob.” I had an idea. “Did you bring lunch?”
“No time to shop.” He winked at me. “I was kind of busy all weekend.”
Damn right you were! “I’m starved, so I’m going out. I’ll bring you something back.”
Thirty minutes later, Matt treated me to a broad, happy grin when I handed him a bag of food. “Potbelly! Oh my God, I love Potbelly.” He started unpacking his lunch. “How did you know?”
“I’m a genius and can read minds.”
He gave the cutest little squeal I’d ever heard. “Pizza sandwich!”
I had a feeling that I might, possibly—hopefully—be in for a reward later. Townsend was in a partner’s luncheon until two o’clock, so I leaned over and put a finger under Matt’s chin, raising it up from the treasures he was unearthing. Just when the kiss heated up, he pulled away.
“Aaron!” he said, breathing hard. “Later, okay?”
“All right.” I put on what I hoped was an enticing smile. “So there will be a later?”
I reached for his cheek, and he giggled, swatting my hand away. “Of course, there will be a later!” He wrinkled his forehead. “At least, as far as I’m concerned.” He chewed his lip for a little bit and looked up at me. “Later?”
I slapped his chin. “Later, baby!” I hurried to my office and turned around when I got to the door. “Ass!”
A particularly boring case on Westlaw soon had my eyelids growing heavy. I was working on a memo for Townsend having to do with a former client who died with two wills. A few years earlier, Townsend had drafted a will for the man, which he signed. A couple of months ago, the same client got very sick and handwrote a will a few hours before he died. Unfortunately, some of what he wrote was unclear. Also, he never stated that he was revoking his previous will, and his signature on the new will was not witnessed.
His cousin, one of the beneficiaries under the first will, hired us to defend it. DC law is quite unfriendly to holographic wills—those that are handwritten—and we planned to argue that the second will was invalid because it was not properly drafted and executed, it was ambiguous, and our late client was under the influence of pain medications and therefore not of sound mind.
A couple of swift knocks sounded on my door, and Townsend came in. “Excuse me, Aaron. How are you getting on with the Sanborn matter?”
I tapped my computer screen. “It’s not looking good for the holographic will. I’ll have a memo to you by close of business.” Probably sooner, if you let me get back to it.
He smiled and sat down. “Thank you, and anytime in the next few days is fine. That isn’t really why I came in. I wanted to be sure your calendar is clear for lunch tomorrow.”
“All clear,” I said, after a quick check. “New client?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “No. Actually, I was looking at Mr. Kennington’s file. Tomorrow is his birthday, and I always take my staff to lunch for their birthdays.”
My hand went to the side of my neck. “Really? Tomorrow’s Matt’s birthday?”
“Yes, the thirteenth.”
“Cool,” I said. “I’m there.”
“Twelve o’clock. I made reservations at Magnolia’s.”
Herb left, and I realized I had to get out of the office for a while and go shopping. I was glad he’d given me extra time on the memo.
Matthew
At three, I went down to the break room on the second floor. I needed some time away from my desk and decided to get a drink and kick back for a few minutes. Shit! The first thing I saw when I walked in was crimped red hair.
“Matthew!” Suzanne’s screech was worthy of a character from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. “I was hoping I’d see you today!”
So much for a relaxing break. I busied myself with the pop machine as long as I could before making my way to her table. “How’s it going down in Real Estate?”
“Same old, same old.” She grabbed my arm with the claws of death. “Oh my God! That gorgeous man!” she screeched.
Fuck me and throw me over the side. “What man?”
“Don’t try to bullshit me, Matthew Kennington.” Her eyes were far too wide, and she tightened her grip on my arm so much I was afraid she’d draw blood. “You know what man. That Aaron Roth is a dream.”
I shrugged. “I guess.” Years of pretending to be straight had given me some experience at acting indifferent about guys. It was too bad those years were in middle school.
She turned me loose to pick up a stick of celery, probably all she was having to eat that day. “Do not even try to shit me!”
I took a sip of my diet pop. “I’m sorry. Shit you about what?”
“He’s the one! The man you told me about, the guy you met on the Metro.” Her voice was so loud that I scooted my chair back from the table.
I shook my head.
“Denial will get you nowhere!” Her hair flounced back and forth. “I was there. I heard him call you ‘good-looking’ and saw the look on your face when he did.” She took a sip of her pop, and her expression was so self-satisfied that I wanted to slap it off her face. “Not to mention the ‘I’m so in love, fuck me three ways and then four more’ look on your face.”
“Suzanne, I have to go.” I needed to either throw up or have diarrhea—time would tell.
“You can run, but you can’t hide!” Her high-pitched cackle followed me all the way to the door. “Call me!”
Like fucking hell.
Aaron
A client called at 4:45 and was in a talkative mood. I was antsy as hell because I wanted to see Matt before he left. While the client droned on about which kid to leave her Limoges china to, mused about the value of her antique mahogany, and wondered about the taxes on her summer house in Maine, I picked up my cellphone.
AARON: You leaving at 5?
MATT: That’s quitting time.
The client asked a question I had to think about. Another text came through just as I was explaining the difference between an outright bequest of real estate and a life tenancy.
MATT: I’m going now.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Cowell, but I have to ask Mr. Townsend about that. I’ll be right back.”
I ran out to Matt’s desk and found him sitting there with his bag on his lap. His eyes were sharp with mischief, and he shook his head when he saw me. “Aaron, aren’t you still on the phone?”
“Yes, but she’s on hold.”
He snorted. “What’s on your mind, Mr. Roth?”
“Can I… is it okay if I come by when I leave here? Eightish?”
“Sure,” he said, standing. “As it happens, Herb’s gone, so….” He kissed me, quick, but sure. “Should I wait to have dinner?”
“Yeah. I’ll pick something up.”
“Great. I—”
“Matt?” I was so afraid he was going to say no. “Tomorrow…?”
He cocked his head, looking a little wary. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes. Would you please go out with me tomorrow night? Not instead of getting together tonight, but also?”
He grinned. No rolling of the eyes or anything. “I’d love to.”
“All right.” I winked at him. “Good.”
“Aaron?” He suddenly went all stern. “Mrs. Cowell is holding, Mr. Roth.”
Oh, yeah. “Okay. See you soon.”
When I turned to go back to my office, he slapped me on the ass.
“Fucker!” I yelled, and held an extended middle finger above my head while I walked away.
“You love it!” came the catcall from behind.
“Fuck you!”
“In your dreams!”
Exactly.
A few hours later, I was almost to Bethesda when the phone rang. I pushed the button to answer, and Ben’s voice filled the car. “Did you talk to Mom today?”
“No. Weren’t you going out there tonight?” I swerved to avoid a Fiesta that stopped short in front of me.
He moved the phone around, and after the static settled, his voice was quiet. “I’m there now.”
Something was up. “What’s going on, Ben?”
“She and I have talked quite a bit.” He gulped, and I heard him moving around again. “I believe her, Aaron. Something’s wrong, whether it’s her heart or not. I don’t think it’s simply anxiety.”
My brother had more empathy than anyone I’d ever known, and I trusted his judgment.
“Have you told Dad this?”
Ben and Dad didn’t get along, but a lot more heat than I expected to hear came through the car speaker. “He isn’t even here. She said he’s staying in the city a lot these days.” While I tried to think that through, Ben huffed out a sigh. “She doesn’t want me to tell him. Says he just makes fun of her.”
“Damn it. What the hell are we going to do?” Mom was an intelligent woman with lots of savvy, and she’d never been afraid to stand up to Dad. I knew they had problems, but it must have gotten really bad for her to cut him out of the loop.
“I talked her into going to see a cardiologist in the city. We’ll find somebody Dad’s never heard of so it can’t get back to him.”
“Good idea.” I’d gotten distracted and some asshole flew by, honking his horn and scaring the shit out of me. “You’ve got to be sure she calls.”
Mom’s voice sounded in the background, and after Ben told her he’d be there in a minute, he came back to me. “Right on, first thing tomorrow morning. I’m spending the night, and we’ll find somebody to call before I head into the city to work.” He hesitated for a few seconds. “You’re going to be here for the holidays, right?”
“Of course.”
“Cool. Bring your boyfriend.” He laughed. “That’ll be sure to get the old man going.”
I rolled my eyes, which made me think of Matt. That was a habit I didn’t want to pick up. The Greek Table was just ahead on the left and I signaled to turn in. “I’ll try to get him to join us, but not because it’ll rattle Dad’s cage.”
“I know. Just kidding.” He laughed again. “Mostly.”
“No prob. I’m picking up dinner for Matt and me, so I have to go. Keep me informed about things?”
“You’ve got it.”
“Thanks. Later.” I pushed the button to disconnect. I trusted Ben to do his best to take care of Mom, but a chunk of worry took up residence in my gut. Something wasn’t right with her, and there was definitely a problem with her and Dad.
Matthew
AARON: Sorry I’m late. Got the food, be there in 10.
Wow—it was 8:15, and he’d said eightish. I was used to assholes who thought I was a bitch if I got cranky when they were two hours late.
MATT: It’s cool. Watching TV.
Eleven minutes later, the doorbell rang. Aaron had brought enough food to feed the entire building, and after I rounded up plates and forks, he dished out ginormous helpings of gyro, moussaka, chicken souvlaki, and spanakopita.
“That’s way too much,” I said. “I’m stuffed just from looking at it.”
Putting on a lecherous grin, he cocked his head. “You’re not stuffed yet, but hopefully soon.”
“Fresh!” I said, slapping his
hand and making him leer at me. “If I eat even half of this, there won’t be room for anything else in there for a week.” Actually, we hadn’t come close to a stuffing yet, not that a guy can’t hope.
“Whoa… whoa, whoa!” He grabbed my plate and pulled it to his side of the table. “Not a bite for you, then. Just hold on while I eat enough to get up my strength.”
I reached for the plate, but he held on tight, and a tug of war followed.
“You think it won’t take strength for me too?” I screeched.
He laughed and let me have the plate. His grin may have been boyish, but there was nothing remotely childish about the gleam in his eyes.
“So….” He licked his lips nervously. “You mean….”
I moved the plate in front of me and picked up my fork. “I mean that we’ve got a good thing going and we’ll see what happens.” I flashed my best seductive grin. “Right?”
His gorgeous, pink tongue flicked out of his mouth and scraped tantalizingly across his lip. “Right.”
The food was good, and we ate in silence for a few minutes. “Thanks for all this. Where’d you get it?”
“Greek Table,” he said, through a mouthful of food. He swallowed and looked up, his eyes wide. “Idea!”
“What’s that?” I served myself a little more chicken. I didn’t normally eat much, but this food was too good to resist.
“You know the firm’s Christmas party is Friday night, at the Mayflower?”
I took a sip of water. “Yes. They’re always so boring that I don’t usually stay more than an hour.”
Aaron got a huge grin on his face. “Go with me.”
His enthusiasm was contagious, but it was an insane idea. “We’re on dangerous ground as it is. You’re the lawyer, so you must know that. I can’t be your date.”
“I don’t mean like that. Agreed, you can’t be my date, at least not that anyone knows about.” He reached for my hand. “Nobody has to know but us. We’re coworkers in the same office, so it would only be natural for us to hang out if we were both there by ourselves. We couldn’t dance, or hold hands, or anything.”