“Nah.” Nick sat on the other side of Suhail so we were all in a row. “I’ll play golf, though.”
“He always plays golf,” Suhail explained. “He played in high school. I think the only reason we played in college was so he could beat me.”
“I had to beat you at something.”
We played a couple games and that was it for the night.
I WOKE UP AND WORKED extra hard on Thursday to make Mark proud. I texted him my progress.
= +1 vacation day =
~ cool cool ~
My Friday was equally productive. By the end of the day I had two vacation days in the bank. However, I showed up to the Friday workout with the guys and was depleted. Tim didn’t push me, but Ryan was concerned. I asked if I could bring a partner to tennis on Saturday. Tim and Ryan assured me that I could, so I left the gym early, got some extra sleep, and showed up at the courts the next day with Suhail in tow.
Suhail never went back to their tennis club again. He experienced overt racism at those courts—I had never seen anything like it before in my life. Tennis clubs were for old white guys, I guess. There were some black guys and some hispanic guys in the club. But apparently being of blatant middle eastern descent was too much. Or maybe we just passed a particularly racist group.
I felt so ashamed. I couldn’t understand it, but Suhail waved it off as if it was nothing. It wasn’t ‘nothing’ to me. I never asked Suhail to go back to those courts again. After that, if I played with him, I took him to Mark’s building and we played on the courts that were a short walk away.
After that experience, I never felt the same playing tennis at Tim and Ryan’s club. I still played with them, or course. Tim took me to play singles in the spring when Mark and I were broken up. In the weeks after that incident with Suhail, I kept my eyes peeled for other racist shit at the club, but I didn’t see it. How would I have even known what to look for? I wasn’t in an ethnic minority.
The rest of tennis that Saturday was uneventful. Tim and Ryan teased me and asked if this guy was my new boyfriend. I patiently introduced my new roommate and we played.
Suhail was weak. His arms and legs hurt right after we started the game. I had been running for a year before I started playing tennis so I never knew what it was like to be as bad as Suhail.
We sat down for numerous breaks and watched Tim annihilate Ryan. “All I do is cycle,” Suhail said. “Do you have a bike?”
“No. I have a mountain bike at my parents’. Mark asked me if I wanted to try a road bike, but what for? I did one distance ride when my cousin turned twenty-five. My legs were like jelly after that. I’ll never forget it.” That ride had been before my autoimmune disorder really kicked in.
“I’ll cycle with you. I’m no good at tennis.”
“Sorry about earlier with that guy.”
“I’m not worried about it. It happens all the time. I’m sorry I can’t hit a ball with you guys. You’re all really good.”
“Tim almost went pro. Get up. Come on. I’ll teach you how to hit.” I showed Suhail how to hit with spin. He wasn’t that interested, but he listened to me. I remembered how Mark used his tennis lessons with me as an excuse to touch my hips and gauge my openness to his physicality. It was hard to believe how much had changed since that first lesson. Oh, how naïve I’d been.
What would Suhail think if I tried to do to him what Mark had done to me? He would react how any other rational human being would... by thinking that I was coming on to him. How could I have been so blind to all of Mark’s moves?
Charlotte's Party
The hours before Charlotte’s party were nerve-wracking. Mark had called me in the morning (knowing I would be up) and said to expect us to be late to the party. He would get a cab from the airport, meet me at his place and then we would take off as soon as possible. Mark told me to be ready to leave immediately upon his arrival.
I dressed in a casual, long-sleeved shirt and those cream shorts that Mark liked me to wear. I preferred lightweight long sleeves compared to tee shirts. Thankfully, the weather was changing so I could put away some of my tees.
I had spent the night in his empty apartment. Then, in the morning I made breakfast and set the dishes to soak on the counter before stacking them in the dishwasher. I worked at the table for an hour before my nerves got the better of me and I had to get changed into my outfit for the day. Then I worked for another hour, all while feeling on edge. I wanted Mark to just get home already! I had been without him for one full week. That was way too long. I had made a pathetic mound of blankets in our bed last night and hugged them as I fell asleep. Mark would never know about that. So silly. What was I thinking? I had slept on my own for twenty-eight years.
Who have I become?
The door unlocked. I was sitting on the couch and staring at a printout of my children’s book for Charlotte and had already spotted three errors that I wondered if I could fix before Mark arrived.
Then the door opened and Mark burst into the room. He had his large travel duffle bag on one shoulder which made his walk come across more like a saunter.
“Mark!” I yelled happily. I had gotten to my feet without even realizing it. I didn’t move out of the living room and watched in wonder as he set his stuff down. “I wasn’t expecting you this early! You tricked me! You said we were going to be late! You said...” I kept babbling—my feet were rooted to the living room floor.
“Is this the kind of welcome I get?” he teased. “Honey, I’m home.”
I felt chastised. I walked to him with my head down and cautiously extended my arms so they wrapped around his body. We hugged tightly and I reveled in the feel of his body. He was so handsome. He smelled of cologne, which I hated... but I had him in my arms, and that more than made up the difference. I moved my head up and down his shoulder so that sometimes my face pressed against his neck and sometimes it lay sideways on his shoulder.
His hands were all over me. I calmed them down by holding one. Mark slowed his frantic movements and just held me. I could have stood like that for hours. I felt so safe and at home.
“I don’t get a kiss from my boo?”
“What?” I glanced up at him shyly. He loomed over me. We had spent a week apart. I wasn’t used to anyone looming in front of my face. I wasn’t used to his aggressive hands. I wasn’t used to him wanting to make out so fiercely.
I gave him a sweet, chaste kiss on the lips. “I love you,” I said.
“I want a real kiss,” he said. Then he pushed me against the cabinets near his front door and pinned me there. He kissed my mouth and pried open my lips so that our tongues touched.
I felt overwhelmed, and not in a good way. This was too much, like a carefully constructed schedule was being undone. We had kissed like this in the past... we had kissed like this in the airport terminal just a week ago. But for some reason I felt sick to my stomach.
I pulled away. “Too much,” I said. I leaned my head on his neck so he wouldn’t have to see the confusion in my eyes and so I wouldn’t have to see the hurt in his. “Can’t you just hold me?”
“Sure, babe. I missed you.” His hands were slow this time. They expertly caressed me. “Did something happen over the weekend? Was it something I did?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, my boyfriend isn’t exactly excited to see me.”
“How can you say that!” I pulled away from him and stared into his eyes, almost crying. “How can you say that,” I repeated with a whimper. “I missed you so much.”
“Okay.”
I rubbed his shoulders. “I don’t know what feels different. I feel like... I feel like I have my best friend back. Can’t you just be my best friend for a little while? Can’t you just hold me?”
“I can do that. Can we lay on the bed?”
Um... and do what exactly?
We went into the master bedroom. “Wow,” Mark said. “You didn’t sleep here while I was gone?”
“I made the bed. Gloria i
sn’t the only one who can make beds.”
“You make a great maid.”
“That isn’t even funny.”
He sat on the bed and indicated I should occupy the open area at his left. I sat next to him like an obedient dog. The sunlight filtered into the room. It was a bright and crisp day. He looked so handsome. And haggard.
“Did you have a rough week?” I asked.
“It’s a tough life, but someone has to do it.” He kissed me gently. His lips barely touched mine and his hands didn’t aggressively search for the ends of my clothes. “I’m glad to be home with my best friend.”
I reclined against his body. “I missed you so much. You have no idea. I don’t know what happened to me. I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal, but then it felt like...”
“I will always come back to you,” Mark said. “You’re my guy. You are my missing piece. You make me feel happier than I’ve ever been.” He kissed me sweetly again. “There was life before and now there’s life after. Let’s lay down. I need a nap.”
“We’ve got a party in less than an hour.”
“I told you we were going to be late. Get down here and spoon with me. I want my Cuddle Bunny.”
“Don’t embarrass me. Shit. You better not use that name around anyone else.” My cheeks were bright red.
“Why not? I think it’s cute and lovely and it matches you perfectly. You remember when we had our conversation?”
My anxiety attack? Yes, I remember.
“You cuddled up against me. Fuck, you slayed me, dude. And you did this thing, when you fell asleep on the couch.”
“What?”
“You slid against me one night and I wrapped my arm around you. And you slept like that. You made this cute little noise. Fuck. It killed me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was so in love with you.” He stroked my arms. I rolled so that we were facing each other. “Are you happy?” he asked. “With me. Are you happy with me?”
“Yes. I want to be with you all the time. I wish I knew you when we were younger... even though we wouldn’t have been able to stand each other for a second. But I wish this us... the older us... could have known each other forever.”
“Me too.”
“And I wish we could be old guys together. Having done everything and seen everything there was to see. And done it all together. I want you to be everything, all the time.” I cuddled into a weird and uncomfortable hug, but I wanted to lie as close to him as possible. “All the time I spent before knowing you feels like wasted time.”
“You can stop being poetic now. I feel like a dunce. All I can say is that I love you.”
“You say so much more than that.”
“Not really.”
“When you touch me, and you understand that sometimes I just need hugs and not kisses. And you don’t get mad.” I rubbed against him. “That says all that needs to be said.”
“You are my prince.”
“You need to pick one pet name and stick to it.”
“I get one for every person in your head.”
“That’s not funny either,” I said with a sad smile.
He stroked my face and we fell asleep staring into each other’s eyes.
MARK WOKE ME UP FORTY-five minutes later. “Get up, sleeping beauty. We’re late.”
“What?” My head popped up out of my warm cocoon, but my brain was far behind. It felt so good to lie there in the bright light and smell him, touch him. It was so relaxing—all the stress from the previous week had rolled away.
“Get up and put on this shirt.”
“I’m in my shirt.”
“It’s crumpled. I’m not showing off my boyfriend in a crumpled shirt.”
I grumbled at him and finally opened my eyes. He was perfectly groomed and ready to leave. Apparently, he had been waiting on me.
“Shit. How long was I out?”
“I tried to wake you up when I jumped in the shower, but you wouldn’t listen. Your head hit the pillows right after you said you were awake.”
“I kind of remember that,” I said, scratching my head. “Vaguely.”
“Get up. I’ll do your hair. You need to put your contacts in—”
“My contacts are in. So dry. Ugh. I’m taking them out and wearing glasses.”
“Like fuck you’re wearing those dorky glasses. We need to get you some proper stylish frames.” He pulled me out of my nest even as I cried foul. “I’m always waiting on you,” he teased. “We’re always late because of you.”
“That is not true at all! I was ready to leave an hour ago.”
He kissed me on the cheek and pulled at the bottom of my shirt.
I growled. “Didn’t I compliment you on not kissing me and not trying to get me naked?”
“Babe. We’re going to be late. We can’t mess around.”
“Oh...” I switched to a breathy, bimbo-like voice. “No time to mess around? My man doesn’t want me?” I cooed and pawed at his chest. We were both standing—he still had my change of clothes hanging off his arm.
“What are you doing?” he asked with a laugh. Despite his confusion, his cock responded immediately.
“My man wanted to come home and play...” I touched his chest and played with the button in the v-neck. My voice was husky. “I need to make my man happy.”
Mark was cracking up and staring at me like I had grown three heads. “What are you doing? The party is going to be over—”
I sensuously slid my hips onto his body and ground onto his cock. “This is what you wanted? Isn’t it?”
He couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed behind my head, forcing my face into a hard makeout session. I responded. My body also responded.
He picked me up, took two steps and threw me on the bed. I switched back to my normal sardonic tone: “We don’t have time for this.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he said. Mark grabbed my shirt in the middle of my chest with both hands.
He ripped it in two pieces.
“That was my favorite shirt!” I complained. His lips stopped me from arguing further. He slid his hands into my pants and freed my cock, which was stiff.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he growled. He nipped into my neck and I complained again. “Have you been saving this for me?” he asked. “I told you not to jack off this weekend. Have you been saving this for me?”
“Yes,” I gasped. He stroked it lightly a few times and it was hard. I couldn’t believe it. Normally it was shy, even towards Mark.
“Good.” Then he kissed down my chest, bit into my skin. He smacked my abs three quick times until I grunted and spread my legs ever so slightly. Then his mouth slid onto my cock and went to town.
I was worried that it was going to shrink, but it didn’t—we had done a couple sexual things in the past and I had learned how to compartmentalize. I thought about the time we jacked off in the park. I thought about what we did in bed together. I thought about our kissing. I thought about how I had acted so weirdly a few minutes ago and it drove him to become an animal.
I came. He swallowed.
That’s over... finally.
It wasn’t over. He stood over me, unzipped his shorts and pulled his cock out of his black underwear. He stroked three times while staring at me, then his head rolled back and he sprayed up and down my body—including onto my shorts. It was all over my chest.
“What the fuck was that about!” I cried, disgusted and trying not to taste any of what was on my face.
“You tell me, you sexy little fucker.” He licked the cum off my face. Disgusting! “I mean, you spiffy little fucker. What was with that seduction routine? What happened to just wanting cuddles?”
“I was teasing you.”
“Well... now we know what happens when you talk like that. Fuck. It started funny. Then I got horny.” He swirled his hand in the cum on my chest. “Sorry about your shirt.”
“That was my favorite shirt.”
“Now you’ll have to wear the one I picked
out. Go get cleaned up. I’ll get you some new underwear and shorts.” He slapped my butt as I crawled off the bed.
I was stunned. What had come over me? Why did I want to tease him like that? What happened to the cuddling?
I wiped my chest and face with a soapy rag. Mark came in the bathroom after me and set the change of clothes on the toilet. I gazed into his eyes in the mirror as he stood behind my naked body. He wrapped me in his arms—at first I wasn’t sure what for. But all he did was cuddle.
“Thanks for doing that. I really needed some lovin’ from my man.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing and enjoyed the contact with his body.
“We’re going to be late,” I said eventually.
“Fuck, we were late before I jumped in the shower. I’ll just ship them her gifts.”
“Nice try.” I kissed him on the lips. “You sprayed some of your cum on my face. You owe me. We’re going to the party.”
“I already sucked you off,” he whined.
“I didn’t want that. I told you you didn’t have to try that again.”
“Yeah, but this time I got my prize.” He squeezed my butt. “Aaaaand... you kissed me after.”
“What!” I had kissed him! After his mouth had been on my cock! I didn’t touch his tongue... but my lips had touched his lips!
Mark pulled the mouthwash out from under the sink. “I’ll make a gay man out of you yet,” he promised.
I nearly puked just at the thought of there ever being cum in my mouth. Ick.
We finished in the bathroom. My hair was newly styled and I smelled like Mark’s cologne after he spritzed me. We left for the party and arrived beyond fashionably late.
I stopped Mark before he opened the trunk.
“What’s up, babe?”
“I’m checking to make sure you don’t have cum on your shirt. You just had to wear that navy again.”
“It makes my eyes pop.” He batted his lashes at me.
“You think everything makes your eyes pop.” I touched his chest to smooth the wrinkles out of the fabric. I carried Charlotte’s book in a bag and sealed behind plastic. “Okay. Let’s go.”
IJUH complete Page 9