by Neil Plakcy
“I can always use some extra cash. And I’m a demon proofreader. What’s up?”
“You can’t tell Boris, all right? I don’t want him to think I’m spending time on my own work and screwing around here.”
“Not to mention that little clause in your contract that gives him part of any app you develop.”
“This isn’t an app. It’s a website I put together for a friend. It has French, Spanish, and German content. He’s proofed the Spanish, but he needs help on the other two.”
“I love a good secret. If you can get me the stuff by tomorrow morning, I can work on it over the weekend.”
I gave her Julian’s contact information and went to my desk. When I looked at the bank app with fresh eyes, I found a few small bugs to fix. When I was finished, I asked Lilah to take a quick look at it for me.
There was still a ton to do on the sandwich-shop app, and I got to work. The afternoon sped by in a blur, but I didn’t accomplish much. I took a break at four and fixed the one bug Lilah found in the bank app, then e-mailed the link to the client.
Boris came nosing around the cube farm about four thirty Friday afternoon. He wanted updates from each of us on our projects. By the time he came to me, he’d already crawled up Kevin’s ass, bitched at Noah, and given Lilah extra work. When he stopped to peer over Dylan’s shoulder, he said, “I have nephew, six years old. He code faster than you.”
“Cool,” Dylan said. “Can he come in over the weekend? I can give him stuff to do.”
Boris was silent, and I could feel everyone in the room waiting for a fountain of Russian expletives, but Boris laughed and clapped Dylan on the back. “You are good guy, Dee-lon.” Then he turned to me. “And you, Larry? You are still working on bank app?”
I shook my head. “I sent the updates to the client. I copied you.”
He shrugged. “My in-box look like Mount Elbrus, tallest in Russia. I am little bird, pecking away at it.”
The idea of gruff, bearded Boris as a little bird was funny, but I resisted the urge to smile. “I’m back on the sandwich-shop app.” I had an active window minimized, and I popped it up and showed him what I had done.
“Is good,” he said grudgingly. “All of you, be like Larry. Work harder, take fewer breaks!” Then he smiled. “Kidding. Everybody go now. Have weekend.” He waved his hands like he was shooing us away, and we all scrambled to save our work and shut down our machines.
I decided to walk home, taking advantage of what I called “found time.” It’s when you finish something earlier than expected, a meeting or a class gets canceled, and you have a few minutes in your day when you don’t have to be anywhere, doing anything. I was sure Julian would find a lot more bugs in my code, and I’d be working my ass off all weekend. But I was also looking forward to seeing him.
I stopped at a light at Alton Road. Behind me, a chunky white guy with dirty-blond dreads idly strummed a ukulele outside a restaurant. Two black women were waiting with me at the corner; one of them said, “Come to find out he had a white girl up in there!” And coming toward us across the intersection was a short Latin guy—couldn’t have been more than five-two, wearing a T-shirt that read, I’m not small; I’m fun-sized.
That was South Beach, I thought. A wild, crazy mix of people. I loved it and hoped I could stay there for a long time. When I got back to the apartment, Gavin was on the phone, organizing a party at Java Joe’s that night. “You’ve got to come, dude,” he said to me when he hung up. “Bring Julian. It’s going to be a blast.”
“I have to work,” I said. “I’ve got to finish this website for Julian.”
“Ask him if he wants you to party or work,” Gavin said. Then his phone rang, and he answered it.
I called Julian and explained the situation. “It’s Friday night,” he said. “We can work tomorrow, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then let’s go to a party. How about if I meet you there, say nine o’clock? I’ve got some work I need to finish before I can play.”
I said I’d do the same, and after Gavin left to meet a DJ friend and make sure everything was set up for the party, I managed to fix a couple more bugs Julian and his beta testers had found. Then our frat brothers from FU started showing up to get a head start on the party.
Fitz was an easygoing blond with a hawk nose and a pleasant, glad-handing personality. His boyfriend, Chuck, was a Chinese guy with flat cheeks and dark, almond-shaped eyes. They both worked out religiously at the FU gym, and it showed in their big muscles and six-pack abs. I still remembered having my first threesome with them, though now that I was actually doing something with Julian I had no desire to share him.
Manny joined us, already slicked out in his party duds. Lots of hugs and kisses and teasing about his boss/boyfriend, who was, like, ten years older than we were. “He coming to the party tonight?” Chuck asked. “Or is it past his bedtime?”
“Fuck you,” Manny said conversationally. “He’s meeting me there.”
“I want to see if he’s as bootylicious as you say he is,” Fitz said. He turned to his boyfriend. “What do you say, Chuckers? Maybe do a foursome tonight with Manny and his late-in-life love?”
“I don’t share,” Manny said. “So keep your dirty hands off him and his man parts.”
“Ooh, somebody’s a drama queen,” Chuck said. He turned to me. “What about you, Larry? You bringing a date to the party?”
“Yeah, but we’re just getting started,” I said. “So try and hold off the hornies, all right? And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention our history.”
“Are you ashamed of us?” Fitz said, putting his hand over his heart and miming despair.
I shook my head. “He already thinks I’m kinky, and I’d rather not add to that.”
“Kinky? Our little Larry?” Chuck said. “Do tell.”
I’d already had a beer by then, and my tongue was loosened enough to provide the broad strokes of my dates with Victor Kunin. The guys were oohing and aahing and making butt-slapping motions by the time the last of our buddies arrived. Eric Muller was an older guy, nearly thirty, who had served in the army in Iraq, then returned to FU to get his degree. Even in civilian clothes—a skintight white T-shirt that emphasized his biceps and black silk slacks that hugged his ample butt—he still looked like a soldier, from his strong jaw to his erect posture. Though I doubted most soldiers would wear a T-shirt featuring the kind of male silhouette you see on restroom doors, only headless, with the slogan I Gave Head beneath it.
Thom Grant had graduated two years before and was enrolled in a graduate program at the University of Miami, but still lived at the Three Lambs. He had round owlish glasses that made him look like a nerd, but under his baggy Hawaiian shirt and khaki slacks, he had a fine body that he tuned with regular workouts.
“Where’s Gavin?” Thom asked.
“He’s already at the place,” I said. “Java Joe’s, where he works.”
“Then let’s get this party started,” Eric said. “If I’m giving up a night of studying, I want it to be worth my while.”
“Nerd,” Thom said, and Eric elbowed him.
The six of us walked over to Java Joe’s. The coffee-lounge part was still pretty quiet, some light jazz playing and people talking in small groups. It was close to nine, so I looked around for Julian.
Instead, I locked eyes with Victor Kunin.
24 – After-Party
Victor was sitting at a corner table with two skinny guys who looked like they couldn’t have been more than sixteen. I gave him a halfhearted wave, and he nodded to me. Then I followed my frat brothers to the back patio, where the party was picking up.
Gavin’s DJ friend was playing an old Village People song to get the crowd warmed up. Gavin and his boyfriend of the moment danced, both of them waving their arms to form the letters YMCA. Tiny fairy lights on string hung above the patio, with dangling music notes interspersed between them.
The beer from the tap was free, and Fit
z poured us each a jumbo plastic cup full. I took mine from him and looked around. I saw Thom by the door, talking to Warren Updegrove. Warren had been a football player at FU; he was as big as a bull, a couple of inches shorter than I was but way bulkier. He and Thom had hooked up when Thom had been assigned to tutor him; he had come over to the Three Lambs, ostensibly for math help, but everybody in the house knew what was going on behind Thom’s door.
I walked over to join them, arriving as Thom said he’d be right back with beer. It was surprising to see Warren there; he’d been picked up in the last round of the NFL draft by the Jacksonville Jaguars and had stayed resolutely closeted, afraid of censure from his teammates and his deeply religious family.
“Hey, Warren, how’s it going? You still playing in Jacksonville?”
“Nah. I made it through camp and onto the roster, but I spent most of the year on the bench. Then I got dropped.”
“Bummer. What are you doing now?”
“Personal trainer at a gym out in Kendall.” Kendall was a bland, family-oriented suburb all the way on the other side of Miami.
“What are you doing that far from where the action is?” I asked as I realized that maybe it was the only job he’d been able to get.
“I don’t like it over here on the beach,” he said. “It’s not my kind of place.”
“Are you still, you know, in the closet?”
He lowered his head and shifted uncomfortably as Thom returned. “Don’t harass the big guy,” Thom said. “Everybody has their own deal.”
“Sorry, Warren. I didn’t mean to, you know...” I fumbled, unsure of how to continue. “I only came out to my brother last week, and I had to make him promise not to tell the rest of the family.”
“It’s not just that,” Warren said, looking up. “I don’t even talk to my folks that much, like once a month.” He waved his arm. “It’s this whole deal. The shallowness. Everybody’s into hooking up.”
Was there a problem with that? And who was Warren Updegrove, who was no kind of brain surgeon and had barely squeaked out of FU, to say that other people were shallow? Since when had he gotten so deep?
“Warren wants to fast-forward past all the dating crap to the white-picket-fence thing,” Thom said. “I’ve been trying to tell him it doesn’t work that way.”
“Sometimes it does,” Warren said. “Look at Manny and that boss of his.”
I shook my head. And I thought I was naïve. But I wasn’t going to splash cold water on anybody else’s relationship, while mine was still in its infancy. Julian Argento could turn out to be my forever love, or end up a hookup for both of us on the road to something better. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Warren,” I said.
Thom tugged at Warren’s hand and said, “Come on, big guy. Let’s see if you still have some moves out on the dance floor.” Warren followed him reluctantly.
I jumped when my phone buzzed with a text, worried it was from Victor Kunin. Instead it was from Julian: where are u?
I texted back patio and watched the door until he walked through, then waved at him. He came over to me, and I kissed him hard, plastering my lips against his.
When we pulled apart, he asked, “What’s up?” speaking into my ear because the music was so loud. “You’re nervous as a cat.”
I reached over and got him a beer, then tugged him to a corner of the patio where the music wasn’t as loud. “Remember that guy I told you about?” I said. “The one who—”
“The one who hurt you?” he finished for me.
I nodded. “He’s here. In the coffee shop.”
“Do you want to leave?”
“I don’t want to miss the party. And I can’t be scared of him. I’m bound to run into him somewhere.”
Julian took my hand. “I’ll stick with you.”
I leaned down and kissed him again. “Thank you.”
Manny’s boyfriend, Walter, showed up, handsome in an older-guy kind of way, with fine lines around his eyes and a few stray gray hairs that made him look distinguished. It was mesmerizing to watch them dance in that hip-swaying Latin way.
Julian was scanning the crowd. “I see someone I know,” he said. “One of the guys I’ve been trying to get to invest with me. Mind if I go talk to him for a minute?”
“No problem,” I said. I was watching his ass when Victor Kunin appeared at my side.
“I’m sorry if I got a little out of hand last week,” Victor said. “My apologies.”
I shrugged. “It reminded me that’s not really my scene.”
“You seemed to enjoy most of it.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.” I scanned the room for anyone else I could talk to. “Look, I’ve got to go join my friends. But thanks for referring clients to AppWorks.”
“No problem,” he said. “You go have fun. We’ll get together again sometime.”
Not in this lifetime, I thought, but I smiled and hurried over to Julian, who said goodbye to his potential investor and turned to me. My nerves were jangling, Julian looked at me and said, “You seem pretty anxious. We should go.”
I shook my head. “No, I talked to Victor. It’s all good. I’m not going to let him chase me away from a party.”
“Then let’s dance,” he said. He took me by the hand and we squeezed our way onto the dance floor. At first I was my typical gawky self, unable to feel the beat or let my body move the way it ought to. But Julian took my hands and led me through some moves, and gradually I relaxed and let my stress slip away.
We hung around the party for another hour, and I didn’t see Victor Kunin anywhere. Finally I turned to Julian. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
“Back to your place?”
“Hell to the yeah. But not to look over code, at least not tonight.”
“I can handle that,” Julian said. We held hands as we walked down Lincoln Road. It was well after midnight, and the street was crowded with straight couples, gay couples, families, single guys, and boisterous groups of friends. Music blasted out of clubs and restaurants—Latin and hip-hop and classic rock. Dogs on leashes got underfoot, and shirtless guys on bicycles darted among the crowds. A typical South Beach Friday night.
I was so eager to kiss Julian that I had him in my arms as soon as I closed the door to my room behind us. His kisses were softer and sweeter than Victor’s, and they were what I needed. I wanted to make love with someone, not just have sex, and Julian was my go-to guy for that.
We kissed standing up for a while, me leaning down and Julian tilting his face up to mine. I closed my eyes and tasted the beer on his lips. We were both buzzed, and that made us looser. My body fit into Julian’s easily, even though I was six inches taller than he was. I loved it when he wrapped his arms around me and rested his head on my shoulder.
I kissed his wavy black hair and rubbed my hands up and down his back, and we swayed together to a rhythm only we could hear. Julian looked up at me and smiled, and we kissed again. When we pulled apart, he stepped back and peeled off his shirt.
“Very sexy,” I said. I stroked the layer of silky black hair that covered his pecs and trailed down to his waist.
Julian moaned and arched his back, and I leaned down to take his right nipple in my mouth. “Ay, Dios mío,” he said. “Oh, Larry.”
He massaged my shoulders as I sucked and nibbled his tit, then moved over to the other one. I pulled off my shirt and tugged him close to me, skin to skin. He reached up to play with my nipples at the same time as if they were radio tuning nobs, and my stiff dick pressed against my pants.
“Why are we still wearing clothes?” Julian asked, his voice hoarse.
I didn’t answer, just kicked off my shoes and shucked my jeans and briefs, and he did the same. In another minute we were both naked, our hard-ons pressing against each other. I wrapped my hand around the two of them, and precome from both made them move slickly.
It was awkward standing up when we were so different in height, so I tugged him down and we fell
onto my bed. Most of my height is in my really long legs, so when we twisted around so we were mouth to cock, we were in a pretty comfortable position, though my feet were dangling off the edge of the bed.
Julian was a great cocksucker. Certainly the best I’d had—though my experience wasn’t all that deep. He licked his way up and down my shaft, fondled my balls, teased my mushroom cap with his teeth. I tried to imitate everything he did, but he was so good that my passion rose, and it was all I could do to focus on keeping his dick in my mouth.
My body quivered, and my orgasm built. I was panting for breath, still trying to suck Julian, when I exploded. I grabbed his butt cheeks and squeezed as I took his length all the way down my throat, and then he yelped and came too.
I let Julian’s dick go and gasped for breath. “Are you all right?” Julian said, squirming around so that his face was across from mine.
“Better than all right,” I said. “That was awesome.”
His smile lit up his face. “For me too.”
We snuggled together, his beautiful face inches from mine, and looked into each other’s eyes. His breath smelled like a mix of beer and come, and I was sure mine did too. I kissed him, our lips feathering together, then our tongues dueling. He wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me tight, then leaned down to nibble on my ear.
I’d never realized the earlobe was so erogenous—but maybe that’s because Julian hadn’t touched me there before. We kissed and made out for a while. The lights were out, but the moon was shining in my window, and I could see Julian clearly. After a half hour or so of that, we were both ready for round two.
He stood up, his dick waving in the air. When I reached for him, though, he said, “You have condoms here, don’t you?”
I reached over to the drawer beside the bed and pulled a handful out. “Colored? Ribbed? Flavored?”
He looked at my dick, which was hard, sticking up from my body at an angle. “I’d say you need an extra-long,” he said. “Lube?”