Make Me

by Charlotte Stein

  Tell your man what your expectations are, and then listen to him divulging his secret horny chats with your other best friend about threesomes.

  ‘I think you know what the big deal is in that,’ he says, and he’s right. I just heard the big deal about half an hour ago.

  ‘You mean because a lot of Tyler’s seduction tips are horrendously graphic and extremely lewd? Yeah, I kind of got a clue about that.’

  He puts a hand over his eyes. ‘Oh, man. Did you really hear everything?’

  ‘Like I said, I was a foot from you. And you –’

  ‘I honestly thought you were asleep.’

  ‘Or maybe you wanted me to hear.’

  ‘No. No.’

  ‘I mean, there was a lot of stuff in that discussion that I kind of need to know.’

  He shakes his head behind the hand-mask. Hunches his shoulders to the point where he’s almost disappearing under the table.

  ‘Like, how much you’d like to fuck me, while Tyler goes down on me,’ I say, but I make my voice as playful as I can for it. I’m almost into singsong by the time he interrupts.

  ‘No, I really –’

  ‘Or, maybe some other stuff. About why you and Tyler have a safe word …’ I say, and this time I really am into singsong. It doesn’t seem to make it any easier on him, however – far from it.

  His hand snaps down from his face the second I’ve spelled it out for him, and his eyes are wide and wild.

  ‘We don’t … that’s not –’ he tries, but he can’t seem to manoeuvre around his own high breaths to get the words out. I have to tell him to just take a second, before he can do anything but panic. ‘OK. OK. Maybe we have some kind of safe word. But we don’t do things together, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  I shrug before I’ve even thought about it, though there are other responses simmering away inside me. A faint sense of loss or jealousy maybe, followed by something else I don’t really want to consider.

  I believe it’s called: having voyeuristic tendencies.

  ‘Would it be such a bad thing if you did?’

  He shrugs back at me in a way that’s not like a shrug at all. Really it’s more akin to a tensing of his entire body. ‘No.’

  ‘And is it such a bad thing if you talked about having sex with me?’ I ask, expecting another half-sure agreement. This time, however, he’s a little more … vociferous. He actually stops twisting his hands together, and makes gestures in the air.

  ‘I just don’t want you to think we’re assholes, OK? We’re not assholes who sit around blabbing about your ass or … doing things to your ass … Christ. I can’t believe he said that.’ He shakes his head, with what looks like just a touch of rue. Yeah, he’s mad at Tyler, all right. But I think he’s also kind of … I don’t know … fond of his behaviour? Pleased that things go that way, even if he sort of wants to resist?

  Maybe. Maybe.

  ‘He does it a lot, huh? Saying things, I mean,’ I offer, and then I wait with bated breath. Truthfully, I’m not sure my breath has been anything but for the last two hours.

  ‘Yeah. Not as much any more. He used to, back in college.’ He glances up from beneath those impossibly long lashes – maybe to judge how exactly I feel about this. And when I give him nothing but the stupidly eager expression I know is painted on my face, he plunges on. ‘God, he used to drive me up the wall with talk of you. Of the things I should do or say or …’

  ‘Or what?’

  Again, he hesitates. But he at least seems aware of how much his hesitation is bugging me now. Another couple of seconds, and he puts me out of my misery.

  ‘Or the things we could all do together.’

  ‘And is that so bad either?’ I say, because really, what else am I supposed to go with? I’m practically drooling as it is. Anything less than approval would look like I’m just pulling nonsense out of my ass.

  ‘I don’t know. Do you think we’re assholes?’

  Lord, he looks so sad as he says it. As though that’s a real possibility!

  ‘I never thought you were assholes,’ I tell him, in this kindly sort of voice that in no way fits how I’m really feeling. Mostly, I just want to scream from the rooftops: You liked me so much that you had graphic chats about my backside. Halle-fucking-lujah.

  But thankfully he kind of side-blinds me again, in a way that stops all embarrassing exclamations dead.

  ‘So why did you run out on us?’ he asks, after which I can barely think of one little quiet word to say, never mind a bunch of loudly blurted ones. Is that what it looked like to them – that I ran out on them? I mean, I sort of suspected, but even so.

  That’s a little grimmer than I want to really deal with.

  ‘Because … because you’re beautiful and golden and perfect,’ I say, before I’ve even really considered if that’s true. It seems stupid once it’s out there, but I can’t deny – it has a certain raw ring to it. ‘I don’t know … I was scared. Weren’t you scared? You’re scared now, even though I came on to you and I touched you and now I’m the one bringing all of this up.’ I run out of breath around sentence two, and keep going on sheer willpower alone. Even I’m marvelling by the time I get to: ‘Man, I can’t believe I’m bringing all of this up.’

  But it sets him at ease, at least. His shoulders go down and those hands stop wringing each other. Then, after a moment of silence that’s not quite comfortable, he cracks a faint smile. He puts his wriggling fingers over mine. ‘I’m glad you did. I feel less weird about it now.’

  I wonder just how long he has been feeling weird about it, though of course I don’t say. I’m too busy mulling all of this over and over in my head, until I get to the one thing that sticks out a mile. ‘Do you think Tyler’s gay?’

  He goes very still, but it doesn’t seem to be out of shock. ‘What – you mean like he’s using my intense burning desire for you to get at me?’

  ‘Exactly like that,’ I say, and nod, just for good measure. I’m sure and certain in my weird theories on stuff I know nothing about. Until he throws me again.

  ‘I think Tyler would fuck a hole in the wall if there was nothing else available. That’s what I think about Tyler.’

  I can’t help it – I blurt out a laugh. But in my defence, he started it.

  ‘But don’t you … I don’t know. Don’t you ever feel like he took advantage of you?’

  What can I say? It looks that way to me. Brandon had a little crush and Tyler had a lot of charm at his disposal, and he just talked his friend right into being a horny fucker. Sounds like a good all-round plan, if you ask me.

  Even if Brandon doesn’t think so. ‘It’s not like that. It’s not like he ever makes me do stuff.’

  I note that he said ‘makes’, present tense, but let it slide. ‘It’s kind of exactly like that.’

  ‘No. No, it’s not. It’s the illusion of being made to do something. He talks like that and I feel all worked up and like I have no choice but to act, but it’s not that. I have a choice. I can just … pretend that I don’t. I sit there and listen to him going on about you and how you’d look and feel and taste, and then when you come back from the kitchen I’m so horny that it’s easy.’

  And now I note that he said ‘kitchen’ in a very specific sort of way.

  ‘Is that what actually happened?’

  He takes a breath and half rolls his eyes, but I can see how nervous the question has made him. His shoulders have tightened again, just a little. And it’s obvious he’s resisting that hand twisting.

  ‘Of course that’s what actually happened. What? You haven’t really thought all this time that I just spontaneously decided to lift your top up, have you? Come on.’

  He’s got a point. At the time I hadn’t really thought about it – I hadn’t really thought about anything, in truth. But now that I step back and consider it, I can see what he means. Brandon was always the one to hang back, to ask nervous questions, to say don’t, don’t. He would never have done that sort
of stuff without a little cajoling.

  And now I can see just who the cajoler was in that scenario.

  It’s the guy who walks through the front door a second later, grocery bags in the loop of his big arm. A look on his face like the one he always has – Yeah, I know what you’ve been talking about. I know what you want, and what you need, and what’s going to happen now. The only question is, what do you want to do about it?

  Chapter Five

  The coffee he brings back is just what I need: strong, thick and barely tasting like coffee at all. I’ve no clue where he got it from but that sucker has so much sugar in it – so much syrup and foam and extra other stuff – that after I’ve finished it I feel like I’ve just been attached to the nearest electrical outlet.

  Things get brighter. Clearer. Safer. We even watch a little morning television together, as though we’ve suddenly become the strangest married unit in all of existence. There’s even some breakfast to go with it – from yet another heavenly place that can’t possibly be real – and then a nice hot shower.

  Everything is almost totally normal. Apart from the face palming I keep doing each time I go over sections of the conversation I just had. And how naked I feel when I walk out of the bathroom, in just some too big boxer shorts and a humongous T-shirt of Tyler’s. Seriously, this thing hits my knees, and I still find myself squirming around inside of it.

  They’re going to see my bare legs. And my bare feet. And probably a bunch of other stuff that I don’t want to think about too hard, as I retake my seat at the makeshift dining room table, in a dining room that doesn’t actually exist. It’s all just one big L-shaped room, really, with a kitchen and a bathroom tucked into the side of it – though I can see how it could be nice. It’s really quite a big place, all open-plan. Sunlight coming in from those immense windows, bare boards just waiting for a bit of sanding and some wax.

  The five years of repression and hidden feelings are probably just making the room seem smaller.

  ‘That nice?’ Tyler says, as innocent as a new lamb in spring. It’s really not his fault that I read the words differently, and end up thinking about the conversation I’ve just had. Or maybe the night before, when he’d said very similar words about something else altogether.

  ‘The shower? Yeah, it was great.’

  Here would be a perfect time to tell them I need to get going. All I have to do is mention something more plausible than dry cleaning: a dog I need to take care of, or some work-related business that requires my attention. Even though I’m a librarian and I don’t have a dog, and most of all:

  I don’t want to. I don’t want to.

  I just want to hold my breath, and wait to see what Tyler says next.

  ‘So did you tell Bran you overheard? Or is this the first anyone’s hearing about it?’

  OK, I did not expect that to be the thing he said next. I honestly didn’t. At the very least I thought he was going to sort of … ease us into further discussion. Maybe ask a question or two about what we’d talked over, in his absence, or offer me some more of those amazing bagels.

  Not this. This puts both me and Bran on edge immediately.

  ‘We talked about … some stuff,’ I say, carefully. Then, when the ground in front of me seems safe, I carry on. ‘Bran mentioned that you guys … uh … used to talk about me. Sometimes.’

  The corner of Tyler’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t smile. No, he just let’s all of his amusement show in those sultry eyes of his, as he leans back in a chair that’s far too small for him. He almost looks like a giant who found this furniture down the beanstalk, and the clothes he’s wearing don’t help: a V-necked T-shirt that somehow shows a huge amount of chest hair, the material stretched taut over his solid chest; sweatpants that look suspiciously like the ones Brandon is wearing, only on Tyler they’re low and tight around the ass and kind of obscene, if I’m being really honest.

  Did he go out like that? And, if so, did a lot of people stare at the thick outline of his cock – the one that can be clearly seen along the length of his thigh? Because, God knows, I would stare, if I was out and about and that thing was coming towards me.

  ‘Did he really? Well. I’m almost proud,’ he says, and I think Brandon gets close to punching him. Only that voice saves his hide – syrup-thick and absolutely delicious. It turns Brandon’s face red, even as he spreads his hands over the table and tries to keep things calm.

  ‘I just explained to Maisie that we weren’t trying to be assholes. That we liked her, and occasionally had … conversations about … about –’

  ‘Doing her?’

  ‘Ty!’ Brandon protests, and when he does he slaps a hand down on the table, too – just for emphasis. No means no, and all that. You’re crossing a line, stop.

  But Tyler doesn’t stop. Far from it, in fact. ‘Though the word “doing” doesn’t really encompass everything, don’t you think? I mean, we talked about licking her ass and having her blow us both at the same time … what was your favourite, again? Oh yeah. The shower.’

  ‘Don’t tell her about the shower,’ Brandon says, his glare so intense I’m only surprised it doesn’t set Tyler on fire. And if his eyes don’t do it then his voice sure should, because his voice has dropped so low I’m expecting an exorcist to show up at any moment.

  But again, Tyler doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. ‘So, basically, we’d be in those communal showers outside the college pool – you know the ones?’

  I nod as though I’m on strings.

  ‘And maybe … I don’t know, things get a little heated.’

  Oh my God, oh my God. He’s saying what I think he’s saying, right? And if he’s not saying that, then why is Brandon having some sort of respiratory attack right across from me?

  ‘Could just be something fairly innocent, like a bit of soapy jerking off. Could be something a little more than that.’

  ‘Don’t tell her about more than that,’ Brandon warns, but Tyler’s on a roll, now.

  ‘What? Like I get down on my knees and suck your cock? Because I seem to recall you liking that part of this little fantasy. Gives it an edge, don’t you think? Something more than just some guys having a circle jerk. And besides, if I’m on my knees sucking you off, or you’re on your knees sucking me off, it gives Maisie something to be really shocked about when she walks in on us both.’

  His logic is impeccable, I have to say. I mean, if they were just jerking off they could probably hide it, before I saw anything. But you can’t hide being on your knees with a cock in your mouth, you just can’t. My mind can’t even hide from the technicolour image of it happening, even though it never actually did.

  ‘I think she’s really shocked now. And probably about to run off on us.’

  ‘You sure about that? Maybe you should ask her. Or better yet, actually see the signs of someone being aroused, rather than going around with your blinders on.’

  The second he’s said it I have the overwhelming urge to cover my nipples. And my pink cheeks. And maybe my groin while I’m at it, because by this point it must be glowing like a neon sign: ENTER HERE.

  But I think it’s best that I don’t. I’d far rather have Brandon looking at me and knowing that I’m cool with all of this, instead of seeing him fret and fumble over it. He’s almost as red as I feel, and every time Tyler says some incendiary thing his hands go to his hair – like last night, only worse.

  It has to be worse. Now we’re talking about man-on-man action in some communal showers, like a gay porn version of the life he probably thinks he’s leading.

  ‘You know, he’s right – I’m really not bothered. Even if you were both a little … gay … I wouldn’t mind.’

  Brandon’s hand slides down over his eyes, but Tyler seems completely unfazed.

  As usual.

  ‘I think a little gay is usually called being bisexual. But I can see where you’d be confused. Being bisexual is like being the tooth fairy – very few people actually believe in you.’


  ‘Do I have to clap my hands so you don’t die?’ I say, and am really proud of myself for doing so. Most of my body wants to collapse in on itself like a dying star, so really it’s a miracle I’m managing to talk at all.

  ‘I think you might have to clap your hands so Bran doesn’t die,’ he replies, because he’s so smooth and sharp and also really, really right. I glance across at Brandon, only to find he’s slid so far down in his chair he’s almost underneath the table again – not to mention the fingers he’s split over his eyes.

  This is a horror movie, apparently, and he can’t bear to watch too closely.

  ‘Bran said that you’d fuck a hole in the wall if it was the least bit accommodating,’ I say, like some tattletale out of school. I don’t even know why, really. It just bursts out of me, along with most of my dignity and a soupçon of that neon arousal.

  ‘I didn’t say it like that,’ Brandon protests, and in all fairness to him he’s right. It’s important that we keep the record straight.

  ‘No. He said it more like you’re just really horny.’

  ‘That’s probably true. But he’s being a little disingenuous there – he’s just as wildly horny as I am. In fact, I’d say he’s so horny I could get him to do just about anything simply by talking about your tits for a while,’ Tyler says, and after he’s done I realise that I’m hanging halfway across the table. I’m almost out of my chair, like some gawker at the scene of an accident.

  ‘So, I guess you’re both just … two big, horny, gorgeous guys. Who like my breasts,’ I manage to push out, but it takes some effort. I’m short of breath by the time I’m done.

  ‘I guess we are. You want to do something about that?’

  Oh God. Oh God.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About our horniness.’ Tyler pauses – probably to give the whole thing a little more weight. A little more tension. ‘Unless you think we should do something about you first.’

  I almost say it: What needs doing with me? And only catch myself at the very last, crucial second. Another moment and I’d have been all the way over, into crazy porn land.