Jump Start

by Karen Botha

  “What do you mean, leave you to pick up the pieces?” I force my voice to be soft.

  “One of the two options she gave us is that you and I should be seen out in public until we ride this storm. I need to understand what that means and the effect the media coverage is likely to have on my mom.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. My family are so used to me being in the limelight, they take everything with a grain of salt now. Kyle’s mom had problems accepting his decision to share his life with a man, so his point is valid.

  “There’s no way of telling what they’ll write and the effect it will have. We can’t control them, so if we decide to progress with that option, your mom is probably best not to tune into the TV for a while.”

  “That’s OK, but what about her friends at the church? They watch television and everyone is on social media now, even the oldies who didn't used to be.”

  I cannot believe I’m running my PR campaign around his mother and her narrow-minded cronies. Oh the joys of being half of a couple. “Look, I don’t care what we do. If you feel more comfortable with us burying our heads in the sand until this blows over that’s fine, but then we don’t have the opportunity to come out and defend ourselves.”

  “Is this something we can defend against?” he asks.

  “Potentially. Jessie is good. Who wouldn’t want to be so in love with their partner that they can’t keep their hands to themselves?”

  “I could see how it could work, I suppose.” His eyes are so sad, like a lost puppy.

  Resting my hand on his knee, I say, “Whatever we do, we’re going to be in the spotlight. We may as well have half a chance of influencing the direction of the coverage.”

  He sighs. “OK, let’s get dressed and run it past Jessie in the office then before we start.” He stands and heads toward his closet, but this hasn’t passed. His tension hovers. He may not realize it, but he’s like a lion stalking his prey. One false move and he’ll pounce and all those unsaid words I can feel radiating around him will spill out. And I’m not sure I want to hear them.

  Kyle

  We make a plan with Jessie. I’m put onto day shift which makes me feel like shit because all my team members are left to rotate while I’m given what I hope they don’t see as special treatment to allow me to gallivant with Elliott.

  Tonight, Jessie has managed to snag us tickets to a premiere in London's Leicester Square. It's about South Africa trying to compete in world sports during the sanctions, so it’s very apt. It’s my first time down a red carpet and so despite all of my anger with Elliott, I’m also excited even though we can barely hear ourselves speak inside Elliott's car from the din being created by fans on the outside.

  We stop at the edge of Leicester Square. “It’s over there.” Sinwar points toward a wall of people, at least ten deep, all shouting and waving.

  “Where?” I ask.

  “Through the crowd. We just need to push through,” Elliott explains.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll come with you,” Sinwar says.

  I’m not a small guy, but I’m pleased he’s here. It’s all rather daunting. No one moves out of the way, not because they’re being difficult, but because they don’t see us. No one has the foggiest clue who I am, and Elliott may be built, but he’s still rather short. The crowd looks over his head.

  Sinwar makes a clearing for us. My palms are sweating against Elliott’s hand as I prepare for our first official photographs together as a couple. At first I stand to the side, allowing Elliott to be snapped alone, but then it’s time.

  “Come here.” Elliott holds out his arm, coaxing me into the shot just as Jessie specified. He wraps his arm around my shoulder as we pose.

  My body is wooden as I smile for the camera, my top lip sticks to my teeth as I plaster a star-struck grin onto my tense features. I’ve spotted someone out of the corner of my eye and I struggle to keep my focus glued on the center of the lens as Jess trained me to do earlier.

  “That’s Robert Redford,” I shout over the din as soon as we make our escape. The tall man turns, and our eyes meet. I nudge Elliott. “Look, he looked at me, did you see?” It’s warm under the temporary lights, but the press still use the flashes on their cameras. The whole set-up reminds me of an old black and white movie.

  Elliott laughs. “Yeah, I saw.” He squeezes my hand. “He’s really good looking in real life isn’t he?” Elliott turns and grins, thankfully as star-struck as I am.

  We walk slowly along the carpet, but the whole process is still over too quickly. I'm mesmerized by the glamour of the event, by the press circus shooting more pictures than anyone will ever see, and by the awe of being included in such a frenzy.

  Sinwar maintains a respectful distance while Elliott poses for selfies with his fans. “It used to be autographs. Not one person has asked for one today.”

  “Elliott, Elliott photograph?” someone shouts. Elliott smiles and stops. “You too Kyle, a pic with both of you please.”

  OK...so the public knows who I am as well. They even know my name. I nod graciously and say cheese for the camera as we flank the fan. This is way easier than posing for the official pictures. Being around real people means I'm more natural, and I move with more flexibility.

  “I think what you guys are doing is dope man. Why shouldn’t you get off with your lover wherever you choose? It’s not like you’re hurting anyone.”

  “Cool, thanks man.” Elliott speaks a style I’ve never heard from him before. It’s really funny to hear, and I can’t help it any longer. I laugh, our argument of earlier successfully obliterated.

  Once we’re inside the cinema, it’s all a little normal in comparison to our glamorous entrance. The only difference to a standard movie trip is that each seat's cup holder holds a complementary mini bottle of champagne. We've also been provided with a large bucket of popcorn.

  “Look at this.” It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had champagne. I’m with Elliott now and it’s shocking how quickly I’ve gotten used to the good things in life, but it’s still fabulous to have a little treat like this. It reminds me how lucky I am.

  We sit and watch the commotion going on outside on the big screen at the front. “How did you find that?” Elliott asks.

  “It was fun. Awful in a lot of ways, but still fun.”

  Elliott nods. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Being scared somehow makes you enjoy the experience, like watching a horror movie.”

  “Yeah, or driving a car around a track at 200mph.” I flick him a teasing look.

  “You’re right. I’ve never thought about it like that.”

  A disturbance interrupts us. The actors are making their way to the front where they introduce themselves and explain about their role. They’re so small. Not special at all. Just normal people. I walked past one of the men being interviewed on the red carpet. I didn’t recognize him.

  “It’s Matt Damon,” I whisper to Elliott.

  He nods and taps my knee.

  I can’t believe that I’m sitting in the same room as Matt Damon and Robert Redford, and that Robert Redford looked at me earlier. They’re literally meters away. I don’t grasp that I share my home and my bed and my life with someone equally famous. It just doesn’t occur to me that Elliott is one of them.

  Elliott

  It’s lovely to get out to watch a movie with Kyle. It’s not something that’s normally possible so this is such a treat. Our argument is long forgotten and we’ve just kicked back and held hands while watching the film like any normal person would do.

  Once the film wraps up, we’re headed down to the embankment to attend the after party which is on a boat on the Thames.

  “Are you having a nice evening?” I ask Kyle once we’ve made our way through the crowds still gathered outside the movie theatre, and we’re snuggled up close in the back of my 4x4.

  “Fabulous. We could have the times of our lives with the social opportunities presented if you jump on the PR calendar.” He kisses my
lips and my heart soars. I rest my head on his shoulder as Sinwar takes off through the slow moving traffic. The crowd congregated by the Thames isn’t as deep as the one outside the cinema.

  “I guess people didn’t know where the party was,” Kyle says as I grab his hand to follow Sinwar.

  “Nah, and that’s why holding it on a boat is good. It minimizes the chance of gate crashers.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “They’re great. Famous folk tend to relax more when they know they’re not being photographed. We should meet some fun characters.”

  We show our tickets and walk down the gangplank to board. We each take a glass of champagne at the entrance. I shouldn’t but one won’t hurt. I sip it as we wander around the decks people watching and taking in the beauty of London as she twinkles at night. None of the big stars are here yet. They’ll be buried in press interviews for a while, but there are some figures we’ve seen on TV.

  “People are looking at you,” Kyle says.

  We laugh and I know what he means. Even I forget sometimes when I’m busy being star-struck that I have the same effect on others. Well, actually not just me; it’s more my media profile.

  The boat is already in full swing by the time we arrive at the dance floor. Drinks that I can’t consume are on any number of silver trays held by pretty men and women dressed in sexy sports attire to match the theme of the movie.

  A few acclaimed actors that I’ve met in passing at the track amble past saying their hellos, but this is a private party so there’s no need to worry about selfie sticks. I’m totally relaxed.

  Kyle is propped up against the wall, taking in the beauty of the rich and the famous, and of the powerful and the wannabees.

  “This could be a party anywhere,” he shouts above the din of the music.

  “It could, except this group doesn’t really know each other. Their friendliness is all for show.”

  “Come on, let’s dance.” Kyle grabs my hand and pulls me onto the overcrowded square space in the center of the room. When he finds a space barely big enough for us to fit, he stops, turns and wraps his arms around my shoulders. Instinctively I relax into his embrace, enjoying the intimacy of his touch while in such a public environment.

  Our hips lock and we sway to the chilled beat that drives the tempo of our movement.

  I drop my arms so I can hook my thumbs down the back of his waistband and rest my head in the curve of his neck. His chin settles on the top of my head and the rest of the world fades away. I smell his aftershave, a subtle blend of spices I chose for him while we were on some race. The memory of our airport shopping trip drifts momentarily into my consciousness until I feel his mouth against my head the air from his lips hot as he breathes into me.

  Looking up, our eyes meet and then without realizing it, our mouths. We kiss on that dance floor for what feels like an eternity. It’s a kiss of love, of adoration and total commitment. One that doesn’t need the force of passion behind it, but instead flourishes on understatement. We kiss until we’ve communicated all the messages our words cannot. Until we’re back on our even keel, forgiven and forgiving.

  When we pull apart, I keep my eyes closed for a few seconds, just enjoying the peace which his touch bestows on me.

  It’s only when they are fully open that my horror manifests. We are the only two people on that dance floor. The rest have cleared and have formed a ring around us. They cheer when we part.

  “Good on you,” filters through. “So in love,” is another as well as “More.”

  Kyle

  When we check before getting up in the morning, we’re all over the media. If we’d tried we couldn’t have done a better job of shifting public opinion in our favor. The headlines are all about how much in love we are, how the playboy has been turned, and how it’s a shame that more relationships of the rich and famous can’t be quite so honest. Somehow, there are photographs of us watching the film holding hands, us in the back of the car after the movie finished and then of course, they managed to get the picture of us kissing on the dance floor at the private after party, totally oblivious to the assemblage of onlookers.

  “So much for being able to relax at those events,” I mumble, although I’m pleased with the photo. It captures our emotions perfectly. The look of love is so evident in both our sets of eyes as we gaze at one another, there is truly no doubt as to how deep our feelings run.

  “We even have our own hashtag.” Elliott misses the moment, preferring instead to amuse himself doing no more than flicking through one story after another.

  “What is it?” I ask, scanning the story I’m reading to see if I can’t find it first.

  “#KEL.”

  Kel? “Huh, what’s that?”

  “Kyle and Elliott Love-story. It’s quite nice really, although I’m not sure why your name is first.” He punches my arm, his eyes glittering in the morning sun.

  “Well, Jessie will be proud of us, but this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, you know.”

  He groans. And much as I’m loathe to bring up our argument again, I need him to understand he can’t go off and do his own thing and ride out my upset for a few hours before it’s all forgotten. “Don’t be like that. I’m just concerned about you and our future that’s all. We have the best time together Elliott and I don’t want for us to squander that because you’re a natural risk taker.”

  “OK, Kyle. Just drop it now would you.”

  “I will. But, as long as you understand this. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I think I pretty much got that now.” He’s getting antsy, so I drop it. My point is made. “Hey, does this mean that we don’t need to go to any more events? I mean, we did so well here.”

  He smiles. “I’ll speak to Jessie. I’m sure she can arrange something. I’ll see what she has up her sleeve. But. I may not be around so much if my reputation is intact. I’ll have to honor the promo gigs I had. Maybe you could come with me now though seeing as you’re the media darling.”

  “Come here.” I roll on top of him, and the phone he’d been checking springs out of his hand and lays discarded as he strokes his hands over my naked chest. His fingers bristle against my regrowth as he leans up to put his lips where his fingers have just trailed.

  “You are gorgeous, Kyle,” he whispers. His breath triggers a chain reaction down my spine and I’m instantly rock solid.

  My excitement spreads to my stomach and all I can think about is being inside this man. My ache is pacified as Elliott holds me, moving his thumb and forefinger along my length, twisting at the top and then releasing back down. His other hand catches my balls and he gently massages them while his slow caress has my eyes fluttering closed.

  I seal the publicity and all its crazy judgments out of my thoughts and concentrate on the only important thing in my life, to being taken by the only man I’ll ever love. He may make mistakes, but I can always rely on him.

  Elliott

  Kyle’s hand reaches out and takes me in a rhythm which matches mine. We’re a perfectly balanced team, and that thought drives my hand, faster, harder, and more intense. He matches me stroke for stroke.

  The burn in the base of my stomach ignites, rising until it steals my breath, controlling how my body moves, how I feel and what I do. I cast back my head, scrunch my eyes and fight the urge to just let go. My insides are coiling, somersaulting as adrenaline courses through my blood, pumping into my head so that my thoughts fizz and my body echoes on the outside what I’m feeling on my inside.

  In a heady daze, I reach out, grasp the lube and spread my legs as I apply it to myself with one deft slick. I lie down, leaning my back against the mattress and hook my ankles over Elliott’s shoulders making sure he has a clear view of his personal show as I finger myself while working my cock.

  His tongue flicks over his teeth before they bite into the swollen pink of his bottom lip, resting there as he watches. His face changes, slackens as passion overtakes all his thought
s. He’s totally consumed by my performance, groaning as I enter myself.

  “Here, let me help.” He slowly circles where my finger is already inserted and then gently presses against it so our fingers meet inside me. We work as one and I gasp as we circle inside me. Wide, slow arcs at first navigating around my center point, then drawing in, coiling within me so my shoulders reach from the bed and I hold my breath.

  Waiting.

  When his finger stops mine, time also stops. My only sensation is the palpitation of my heart pumping blood.

  And then he presses.

  He presses against my nerve center and my body fires into life.

  I gasp, arcing back and crying out as my finger slips free.

  He removes his own, fills the space with a soft nudge of his cock, coaxing inside me until my muscles relax and we move as one. I dig my heels into his shoulders and push against him as he forces forward, deeper inside. As his speed picks up, I curl my fingers around myself and my groin sparks with a rush of enhanced sexual pleasure, fireworks lighting as my breath shifts into a gasp.

  Before I know it, the feeling has flooded my groin, and the giant swell has transported my body with one rogue wave to that place of ecstasy. Explosions release the tightly coiled orgasm all over my tight stomach.

  “Oh Elliott,” Kyle growls as he pumps harder in response until a few seconds later his body jerks and he empties inside me with one final, long moan.

  He collapses on top of me as I unhook my legs and ignore the ache as I rest them either side of him on the bed. Our sticky bodies mingle along with the evidence of my desire and I relish in feeling him twitch against me, spent and satisfied.

  “I hope Jessie can sort us some more events out. I like the aftermath of us going out,” Kyle says.

  “Social engagements have never been a huge part of my life. As a kid I was focused on karting so the usual drinking scene didn’t feature on my list of things to do. But last night was fun. I don’t appreciate that, by being with me, it’s more difficult for you to go out like you would have previously been able. I’m sorry.”