The Beautiful Things Shoppe

by Philip William Stover

  “Only if you let me return the favor.”

  “Absolutely,” I say and we immediately resume our make out session but this time it feels like our hands are free to explore more uncharted territory. I feel the muscles in his back and even squeeze his strong thighs. He focuses on my biceps with his hands and a few sweet kisses. I get up from the couch and grab his hand. “I think we’ll be more comfortable on the bed. What do you think?”

  He nods and I hold his hand as we walk to the bed and lie down facing each other. Once we are horizontal we spend a few moments just looking at each other. He runs his hands through my hair and it makes me feel vulnerable but cared for. I touch my fingers to his lips and try to show him with my eyes just how happy I am we are together. We lie like this for some time but the sweet, gentle connection can’t maintain the simmering that is building to a loud boil below. The fact that we were able to both agree to go slowly makes it so much easier for me to enjoy this experience. I want to come but I don’t want to be worried about being pushed too far or having to perform in ways I’m not ready for. I just want to focus on the pleasure I can give him and the pleasure he can give me. We don’t need a full menu of options. Not right now. I want to focus on our connection and that’s enough. It’s more than enough and Danny seems to totally get it.

  I look down and put my hands on his belt. I undo it slowly, looking at his face to make sure we are still on the same page. He nods and that’s all I need to rip off that belt, unbutton his jeans and push down his boxers. I give a few strokes, which make his head thrust back as he releases a moan of joy.

  “You like it?” I ask and his head comes back up to nod an enthusiastic yes. I keep stroking him until he moves my hands so that he can get closer to the zipper on my pants.

  Danny says, “I have an idea you might like.” He puts one hand on my dick and the other on my nipple and starts stroking and squeezing with a rhythm that is syncopated and unexpected. The combination of these two erogenous points being worked in unison by a man who is so incredibly sexy and so deeply attuned to how I’m feeling pushes me over the edge. I want to hold out. I want to last longer. I put my hand over his and stop it from the next stroke. I put my mouth on his for a long sustained kiss and then pull back to look at him.

  His face tells me everything I need to know—or else he is doing his best impersonation of the Ecstasy of Saint Theresa. I go back to stroking and tweaking his nip with the other hand and he goes back to mine. Within a few beats we are there. It’s not just the rhythm we’ve found; it’s more than that. We feel totally in sync. We don’t need to be physically inside each other in this moment. At least, not yet. Right now we are inside each other in all the important ways that matter.

  The very thought of our synchronicity pushes me over the edge and I look down and see the head of his dick quiver also. Without saying a word we both come within seconds of each other. The release is so intense my entire body shakes and when I look at Danny I see that he looks as satisfied as I feel.

  “That was...” I start to say.

  “Amazing, mind-blowing...”

  “Yeah, both those words come to mind.”

  “But it wasn’t just the orgasm,” Danny says as if he is reading my mind.

  “I know, it felt like more to me too.”

  Danny turns toward me and I can’t help but move my fingers to his furry chest and feel the hair move around my fingers. He gently brushes my face with the back of his hand and even though it tickles I make sure I don’t flinch. I want him to know how much I love his touch.

  “I wonder where we are?” Danny asks plainly.

  “Uhm, in my apartment in Lambertville. Wow, maybe that orgasm popped a blood vessel,” I say teasing him gently.

  “I mean we can check the romantic candlelight dinner phase box,” he says slyly.

  “Yes, we can. In fact, I would give it a check plus.”

  “Good idea. So what phase are we in now?” he asks. This time his tone is less playful and more serious. It’s a fair question. We just moved from playful flirting and kissing to dinner and orgasms. We can’t really pretend nothing is going on, can we? Obviously I have feelings for him and it seems like he has feelings for me.

  Danny is a great guy, a good guy, a sexy guy, in fact, a very sexy guy. He’s not like anyone I’ve ever been with before and I thought that was something to overcome, but sitting across from him I realize that it’s the opposite. It’s not something to overcome at all. It’s something that makes the situation even more compelling.

  “I’d have to do the research,” I say with a mock professional tone. “But I would say if we have successfully completed the RCD phase...”

  At first a puzzled look appears across Danny’s face. “Oh, the Romantic Candlelight Dinner Phase.”

  “Exactly. Then I guess we show up to Vince and Tack’s place as a couple. Or at least we try this out.” My playful tone is replaced by a more tentative nervous quiver in my voice. I’m being pretty bold and I’m not sure how Danny will react. I’m about to say something to backtrack, but before I can figure out what to say he kisses me again and I realize there isn’t anything I need to say at all.

  Chapter Twenty

  Danny

  Why do they call it The Walk of Shame? Sure, I’m wearing the same coat, shirt and pants I wore on my walk over to Prescott’s last night, but shame is the last thing I feel and, in fact, I don’t even feel like walking. I feel like dancing across the bridge and singing a melody of show tunes that would bring any audience in any piano bar across the globe to its feet with wild applause. The early morning air looks almost frozen over the river and some hunks of ice sail under the bridge but I don’t feel cold at all.

  Last night was beyond my expectations. Prescott was charming and caring. He made dinner for me. No one has ever done that before. That alone made me feel all weak inside. Actually that might have been the truffles. One day I’ll have to tell him that I don’t actually like truffles. I feel like I won’t be able to erase the smile that’s on my face until the truth about truffles reminds me that I have a much bigger truth I need to tell him.

  I’m almost halfway over the bridge. The sky is a robin’s egg blue, but I expect a sudden surge of black clouds considering how quickly my joy has turned to worry. I think about turning around, walking back to Prescott’s apartment, swinging open the door and saying, “I’m the heir to a fortune. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but can we please get naked again?” I’ll make it quick and painless but with a surprise twist at the end.

  I hate misleading him this way, but this is all still so new to me—the relationship, the independence from the baggage of my family, feeling like I’m participating in the relationship as an equal—all of it. Usually guys just know about my background on their own or I’ve telegraphed it in some way right from the start. I’ve never had to come out of the closet this way and I’m not sure how to do it. Maybe once we move forward I’ll find a way, but then I realize we can’t really move forward until I come clean. “Arrrghhh!” I yell across the river and my voice reverberates against the struts and decking of the bridge.

  I should call him right now and tell him the truth, but then I realize that’s what I always do. I put everything out there all at once and maybe this time I shouldn’t do that. Let me get to know him better, and then when I find the right time, I’ll find the right way. I don’t know if this is good logic or excellent procrastination, but right now I just want to linger in the feelings I’m having for him.

  I touch my bottom lip with my fingers and I can still feel his goodbye kiss on it as I stood at the door. My lips are chapped from the cold morning air and my fingers are almost frozen but remembering his mouth on mine makes me feel warm from the inside out and I can’t risk letting go of the feeling. I’ll find a time to tell him when the time is right.

  When I get near the other side of the bridge I see the sun appe
ar low in the horizon, turning the entire sky a pinky orange that cuts through small gathering clouds. The colors are a mix of dark and light, pastel and more saturated hues. It’s a strange combination full of unexpected contrast that somehow all mixes together beautifully.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Prescott

  A week ago the thought of attending a small dinner party voluntarily seemed as impossible as sprouting wings and flying over the Delaware River. The idea that I might look forward to it was alternate universe material. But here I am, putting on a blazer, straightening my tie and getting ready to meet Danny so we can join Vince and Tack and a few of their other friends for dinner.

  I’m usually on the edges of experiences watching from a safe distance, but there is no such thing as a safe distance with Danny. Most people see my wall and leave it at that but not him. He sees all my walls and is determined to take them down. But he also respects my boundaries which makes me all the more willing to move beyond where I am. I’ve been with guys who either push me too hard or worse, lie to me and tell me what they think I want to hear and keep the truth from me. Danny is letting me go at my own pace and it makes me want to share myself with him more—both emotionally and physically.

  He’s like a sexy wrestling coach but it’s not just his incredibly hot physical appearance, it’s the fact that he’s so open about who he is and what he likes and what he wants. I wonder if he knows how sexy honesty is to me.

  I take one last look in the mirror and use a comb to make sure my part is perfectly straight. I head out of my apartment and walk over the bridge to meet Danny. Cars gently rumble across the transom and I look out across the river. Stars coruscate through the silky darkness of the night sky sending their energy across the light years. In the distance I see The Hideaway Inn bathed in moonlight.

  There is no way I could maneuver a night like tonight without Danny at my side. I’m not worried that I’ll say the wrong thing. He’ll coax me through an awkward silence or make me feel like it’s fine to not say anything. He’s a talker; he can talk about anything. I listened for twenty minutes yesterday to a story about those silly Smurfs and I loved every second of it. The fact that part of the time my eyes were searching for the places where Danny’s thick muscles stretched the fabric of his shirt and pants probably did something to keep my attention but that was only part of the reason.

  When I get to the entrance for The Hideaway Danny is wearing a newsboy hat that makes his cherub features even more adorable. “Hey, babe,” I say trying out the term of endearment. As soon as the word comes out of my mouth my entire face, no, my entire body smiles. I have never in my life ever used a term like babe with someone before and, if I’m being honest, I always thought it was strange when other people didn’t use proper names. With Danny, though, I want to call him something sweet and let him know what he means to me.

  “Hey, babe,” he says back but he doesn’t smile. Instead he goes right for a kiss. It’s not a sweet, greeting kiss. It’s a dirty, I want to be naked with you in the snow kiss and I couldn’t be enjoying it more. I think we might just get down to business on the sidewalk when Danny gently and tentatively pulls away.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that since...well...since the last time I did that. Are you ready for this?” he asks grabbing my hand. The warmth of his palm presses against mine and we generate a new heat through our skin. “I know you don’t like this type of small party thing. We could make up an excuse and curl up by the fire and...”

  I put my finger to his lips. “Stop that thought right there. If you go any further I’m liable to take you up on it. But you’re right. This type of thing usually makes me nervous as hell but not tonight. I’m looking forward to being with you and your friends.”

  He puts his arm around me and we walk toward The Hideaway together. Having him hold me makes me feel safer than I’ve ever felt before.

  Danny

  I follow Prescott up the stairs to the owner’s suite above The Hideaway that Vince and Tack share. His blazer is just short enough to show off his butt as he climbs. With each step it bounces like a soccer ball someone is dribbling. I can’t wait to get his clothes off later. We’ve been taking things slowly both on the physical and the relationship sides and I’m really glad about that because it feels like we are building something together. Maybe we really have a future. I shake my head to stay in the moment and join Prescott—babe—on the landing.

  “Welcome, gentlemen,” Vince says, his deep voice booming down the stairwell. I pop up the stairs and join Prescott as we enter. Tack is in the small kitchen focused on the meal. They pushed some of the furniture to the walls so that there is a large dining room table set up in the main room. Arthur and Serilda are seated on the couch and we both go over to greet them. “I’m afraid Toula and Anita couldn’t join us tonight. You know, because of the big news.”

  “What big news?” I ask. “There’s big news and I don’t know. How is that possible?”

  “I guess you’re losing your touch, Danny-boy,” Tack says from the kitchen.

  “They’re in the process of becoming foster parents and they had an appointment with the agency tonight,” Vince says.

  “That’s wonderful,” Prescott says.

  “Wow. They’ll be amazing parents,” I say. I’m truly overjoyed for them and I impulsively grab Prescott’s hand and his fingers gently caress mine. Could there be a baby in our future? I wipe the thought from my head like a wet cloth on a dry-erase board. Too soon. Too soon. But... maybe?

  “So are we still pretending that the two of you aren’t the most adorable couple in town?” Serilda asks.

  I think Prescott might bristle at Serilda’s comment but instead he leans into it. Hard. He puts his arm around me and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

  “Hey, I heard that! What happened to me and Vince? Did we lose most adorable?” Tack says from the kitchen.

  Serilda responds to him from the couch, “You just keep your focus on my sweet potato pie recipe and stop worrying about how adorable you may or may not be.”

  “Ay, ay,” Tack says and gives Serilda an improvised salute. “Hey, Danny, would you pass the starter around?” he asks holding out a piece of pottery with a design I recognize from a local art shop.

  “Sure, no problem,” I say and walk over to the kitchen area.

  “These are truffled goat cheese stuffed mushrooms,” he says as he sprinkles some kind of fresh herb on them. Then he adds, “And don’t worry. The ones on the edge I made without truffles just for you. I know you hate them.”

  I quickly turn my head to see if Prescott is paying attention. Luckily he is deep in conversation with Serilda and Arthur. My heart skips a beat with the reminder I’m keeping something much bigger than a distaste for truffles from Prescott. I know I’m being immature but I’m not ready to face the music and dance. Well, I’m always up for an impromptu dance party but not the other stuff. Every time I feel like I’m almost there he looks at me a certain way or brings me a treat and frankly, I don’t want it to end. I don’t want him to think of me differently. I take my worry and concern and lock it inside a little box in my brain and then I lock that box in a bigger box and throw it all in the river. At least for tonight.

  “Now listen, you two,” Serilda says to me and Prescott. “I spoke to each member of the city council. They are willing to listen to our reasons for saving both buildings. But we really have to put pressure on the developer.”

  “I’ve searched the corporate website and left a message for every number listed but there aren’t any actual names of human beings on it so I’ve made a bunch of calls but I haven’t actually spoken to a real person,” Prescott says, his voice displaying a mix of anger and frustration. I love seeing how worked up he gets over saving the buildings. When I first met him it was hard to imagine him getting worked up over anything that would matter to me, but sharing this purpose together has brought
us closer.

  “A lot of these real estate holding companies can be pretty shady when they want to be,” Vince says.

  “Well, you should know,” Serilda says, throwing the jab at him like a dart aimed for a bull’s-eye.

  “That’s true. I speak from experience. Have you checked to see if there is an LLC filing?” Vince asks.

  “I haven’t,” Prescott says. “I’m afraid this is terra incognita for me.”

  “Why don’t you let me poke around and see what I can find out?”

  “Thank you. That would be very helpful. We’re getting to the bottom of this and finding out who is responsible,” Prescott says and his passion rises to the surface just enough to make me melt a bit inside.

  * * *

  The meal is absolutely delicious; rich hearty flavors that have made The Hideaway one of the most popular places in the area. There is a creamy mash of carrots and leeks topped with buttery crumbs that I’m immediately obsessed with. But my attention is on Prescott. I want to make sure he isn’t feeling nervous or stuck in a conversation he doesn’t want to be in. But he seems relaxed and comfortable. He’s chatting with everyone and laughing and he doesn’t seem a bit anxious. I get up to help Tack with the sweet potato pie and he pulls me aside. “Serilda’s right,” he says.

  “They almost always are. But about what exactly?” I ask.

  “You two are adorable and Prescott seems to care for you very much.”

  “Do you really think so?” My track record is so bad, and I think my ability to tell the difference between a guy who is really into me and a guy who just wants a quick fling is completely broken. I’m beginning to trust Prescott. It’s my own judgment I question.

  “Totally,” Tack assures me. “He’s a keeper.”

  We pass out the plates of Serilda’s famous pie and I take my seat next to Prescott. As soon as I sit down he takes my hand and holds it in his. We’ve been connected like this all night and it feels like a dream. Usually I like to attack Serilda’s pie with both hands but tonight I couldn’t be happier leaving one hand on my lap with Prescott’s soft skin gently rubbing against mine.