by B. B. Hamel
I wish I could talk to Nadya some more, but I suspect I’ll never see her again. She’s like a magic Russian fairy godmother, except her advice is to fuck a bunch of guys, which is nice I guess .
I finish my drink and go get another one. I wander over toward the pig, and they’re finally cutting slices off. Of course, Carter is there, eagerly standing at the front of the line with his plate held in front of him like a little kid .
“Hey,” I say, cutting up next to him. “How’s it looking ?”
“It looks divine.” He’s staring at the pork with this intense gaze. “I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He looks away from it and grins at me. “Except you, of course .”
“Of course,” I say, rolling my eyes, but I can’t help but smile .
Carter gets his cut of pork and eats it. We stand around, joking and laughing. Eventually Aiden joins us, and Daniel a few minutes later. The group of us laughs, drinks, makes fun of Carter for being obsessed with roasted pig, and I forget all about my brother .
But I don’t forget about Nadya. I look around the party an hour later, trying to find her .
“I swear,” I say to Daniel. “She was this tall Russian lady. With a bunch of Russian guys, and they were all in tracksuits .”
He grins at me. “Sounds like a hallucination .”
I sigh. I can’t find her anywhere, or her men for that matter. “I guess it doesn’t matter .”
“It doesn’t, but if it helps, I totally believe you .”
He gives me this look and I laugh, nudging him. “Hey!” Aiden says. “I come bearing shots !”
The night drags on like that. For the first time in a long time, I feel so good. I haven’t even kissed anyone, and yet I’m having such a normal, fun time with these guys .
Slowly the party starts to thin out. Carter eats half the pig, and ends up going to bed early. Ryan joins us, though he’s a little drunk, and James mercilessly makes fun of him. Aiden and Daniel argue over who’s better at football, and I stand there, watching the boys laugh and joke with each other, feeling like I’m a part of something .
It hits me right there, suddenly and intensely. I take a step back and take a sharp breath, realization flooding my body .
“You okay?” James asks me softly. He must have noticed my reaction .
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, covering it up. “I think I should get to bed, though .”
He smirks at me. “Want some company ?”
“No,” I say quickly. “Not tonight .”
“You sure? There are three other guys here I think would be interested .”
I laugh softly. “Thanks.” I kiss his cheek. “But no thanks .”
I wave goodnight to the guys and walk quickly away .
I know what it is that keeps bringing me back to them. It’s not the sex, although of course it’s partly the sex. That feels good. And it’s not just the guys themselves, although they’re all awesome and good people .
No, it’s the feeling I get from them as a group. It’s the feeling of belonging to something. I’m a part of the group, a part of something, and that’s something I haven’t had in a long time. It hits me so intensely that I don’t even know what to do with the knowledge .
I left a little abruptly, but that’s okay. I’ll see them all tomorrow. And besides, I want to get to know them outside of just sex. I want to feel like I’m a part of their group, like I finally have a group of people that cares about me and understands me. It’s addictive, intense, and I didn’t even know I needed it .
I go to bed, thoughts of my group ringing through my mind .
14
James
W e don’t see much of Emily for a week after the Hawaiian luau .
I don’t really know why. Nobody’s talking about it, but I can feel the stress in the house, radiating off all the guys. Only Henry’s feeling good: this works out perfectly for him. Emily’s staying away from us, and he’s winning the bet easily .
I don’t understand what happened. It’s not like she moved out or anything, but it’s like she’s trying her hardest to keep to herself. She goes out to the beach early in the morning and hides in one of Henry’s many rooms during the parties .
I don’t know how long I can take this. I feel like I need to talk to her so badly, understand why she’s pulling away. The whole house is defeated, on edge, pent-up and angry. Just the other day, Aiden snapped at Ryan for no reason, and I suspect it’s because they’re blaming each other for Emily pulling back .
I know better than that. I can’t imagine it’s anything we did. Daniel and Carter are both sullen, a little reserved, trying to figure this out in their own way. As for me, I’m not going to sit around and mope .
So almost exactly a week after the luau, most of the guys go out to some bar instead of having a party. I make up an excuse to say home, I pretend that I’m not feeling well, and I wait for them to go out .
Emily’s in here somewhere. I get together some sketching materials, dark charcoal pencils and a large sketchbook, tuck a clean paintbrush in my back pocket, and then I go wandering through the halls .
I try her bedroom first, but she doesn’t answer. I try the gym, the sauna, even the pantry downstairs, but I can’t find her .
Finally, I have an idea. I go and slowly peek into Henry’s dork room. He calls it his ‘man cave,’ but I hate that term with a passion, and besides, Henry’s spot is full of anime and videogames. You can give a dork a million dollars, but you can’t make him stop being dorky .
I’m surprised to spot Emily lounging on the couch, watching some old Western film. She looks up as I poke my head into the room .
“Hey,” I say to her .
“Hey.” She sits up, surprised. “I thought you were all going out .”
“I stayed behind.” I step into the room and close the door behind me .
“Oh, okay.” She looks at me for a second. “What’s that ?”
“Sketchbook,” I say to her. “Thought I’d get a little work in .”
“Oh, right. Have you, uh, gotten much done since being out here ?”
I shake my head. There’s a chair against the right wall. I walk over to it, sit down, cross my legs and put my sketchbook in my lap. I flip it open and hold my charcoal pencil in my hand .
“Hasn’t been much to draw lately,” I say honestly. “Inspiration hasn’t struck .”
“That sucks. I mean, that must be hard, not drawing .”
“Really hard,” I agree. “Even if I’m not making some grand piece of art, drawing or just sketching recharges me .”
She sits up a little bit, interested. The movie’s still playing, but she turns down the volume a little bit. “What do you mean, recharges you ?”
“Well, I guess I’m a little introverted,” I say. “There’s this idea that people are like batteries. Extroverts have huge stores of energy, and they aren’t drained easily by other people.” I adjust my sketchpad a bit and make a few lines. “But introverts have smaller batteries. And doing certain things drains them faster, like big social situations. They need to charge their batteries up .”
“And you charge yourself by drawing?” she asks, watching me with her big, beautiful eyes .
“That’s right.” I cock my head at her. “What recharges you ?”
She shrugs a little. “I don’t know .”
“What do you find yourself doing when you’re in a bad mood?” I make a few more lines, quick and impressionistic, bothering less with shading and accuracy than with getting the right feeling .
She leans back, thinking. “I guess I watch movies,” she says softly .
I glance at the screen and then at her. “Westerns ?”
“Not necessarily,” she says, following my gaze. “I mean, sometimes. But really, anything old, before the ‘70s .”
“Why?” I ask. “What happened then ?”
“Movies started to change in the ‘60s and ‘70s, got more realistic, grittier. I li
ke the old stuff better. It’s more about the writing. And I love the way actors spoke back then .”
“They do have an odd cadence,” I say to her .
“It’s like an accent. You hear it with every decade. People don’t even realize they’re doing it .”
I grin at her. “We’re doing it right now, I bet. Talking in our own decade’s accent .”
“You’re right,” she says, laughing. “I never thought about it .”
“I wonder if people will say this about us one day, that our movies are awful and our accents are stupid .”
She laughs again. “Probably. I mean, would you blame them ?”
“Not at all.” I sigh a little bit. “I mean, our version of the Western is the superhero movie…” I trail off and look around the room at Henry’s collection of nerdy comic book memorabilia .
Emily laughs again. “You shouldn’t say that in this room. I think it’s a shrine to superheroes .”
“Eh, Henry’s more into anime .”
“Yeah, I noticed.” She glances at his bookshelf .
I follow her gaze and laugh softly. “Did you find his dirty books ?”
“They’re all dirty,” she whispers. “Seriously, Japanese people are filthy !”
“Everyone’s filthy.” I grin at her and turn around my sketchbook. “See ?”
Her eyes go a little wide. It’s an impressionistic sketch, not very detailed, but it’s clearly of her, lying on the couch, completely naked .
“Wow,” she says. “Is that …?”
I nod. “It’s you. I mean, it’s meant to be you. I can make it more detailed if you want .”
“No, no,” she says quickly, blushing. “That’s okay .”
“Are you sure?” I stare at her for a second. “I want to draw you .”
“Like in Titanic?” she asks .
I nod my head. “Like one of my French girls .”
She laughs a little, but I don’t look away, and she realizes that I’m not kidding. “I don’t know,” she says .
“You can have it when I’m done. You can do whatever you want with it .”
She raises her eyebrow. “Even sell it? I hear you’re getting pretty popular .”
I smirk at her. “Even sell it, if you want, but I don’t know where you’re getting your info .”
She shrugs and waggles her phone in the air. “I may have done some research .”
I sigh a little. “Of course. The internet ruins everything .”
“The internet improves everything.” She sits forward and looks at me for a second before taking a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll do it .”
“Good.” I stand up and take the paintbrush from my back pocket. She glances at it as I place it down on the desk next to my chair .
“What’s that?” she asks .
“Lucky paintbrush,” I say. “I carry it around all the time. It’s like a habit .”
“Huh. I’ve never noticed .”
“I try not to flaunt it. People think I’m really lame when they see .”
She smiles a little bit. “I don’t think you’re lame .”
“Good.” I walk over to her. “Now, I’m going to position you. Okay ?”
“Okay.”
She lets me manipulate her body. I take my time, hands lingering on her skin as I put her in a more relaxed, lounging position. I step back and look at her, but not really seeing her. I’m seeing the drawing she’ll become, the way the light hits her eyes and her hair, the way her clothes hang off her frame, and something feels… off .
“We need to fix this,” I say to her, kneeling down. I take the hem of her top, a simple little tank .
She looks startled. “Fix this ?”
“You need to take your top off .”
Her eyes go wide. “You really weren’t kidding about the Titanic thing .”
I laugh softly. “Trust me here .”
She hesitates, watching me, but slowly she nods. I pull her tank top up along her body and slowly slide it up over her head. She’s not wearing a bra, and her breasts are full and gorgeous, her nipples pink and perky. I don’t touch her, but she knows I’m staring, and I feel my cock stiffen in my pants .
I step back, watching her silently for a second. She’s breathing faster and I can tell she’s aroused despite herself. I bet she’s fighting it, but she can’t stop this. I nod and pull the chair up in front of her, propping the sketchpad up on my lap again, and I get to work .
I draw in silence. She watches me drinking her in with my eyes, hand moving quickly, blocking in her outline before I start on the detail work. It takes me a few minutes to get her shape down just right, but then I can dive into the light that makes her special, the way it bounces from her skin, reflects off her eyes, lingers in her hair. That’s how I see the world, in terms of light and color, vast swaths of it bouncing all over the world, a living mosaic ready to be pinned down and made into art .
I don’t hurry, but I don’t want to take too long. I’m afraid she’ll lose interest, and I don’t want that. I can tell I have her complete attention .
“I remember the first time I drew a person,” I say to her softly. “It was a friend of mine in college. Before that, I was always drawing from memory or whatever, but this girl was an art major like me.” I grin to myself. “Of course, I dropped out a semester later, but that’s not important .”
“What happened?” she asks .
“Her name is Alice. She offered to pose for me if I would pose for her. I agreed, and I posed first. I was so nervous and so uncomfortable the whole time, but when Alice showed me the drawing, well… I wasn’t nervous anymore .”
“Was she good?” Emily asks .
“Very good. I don’t know what happened to her. But then it was my turn, and she was undressing in front of me .”
“Did you two …?”
“No,” I say quickly. “It wasn’t like that. But when I drew her, it was something special. I always feel connected to someone when I draw them. It’s intimate, special, like you’re letting me have a part of you, even if it’s just a single moment in time .”
She watches me as I speak, and I mean every word. Although Emily’s been withdrawn this past week, right now I feel more connected to her than I ever have .
“I can see that,” she says softly. “It’s intimate, right? Even if I had all my clothes on .”
“That’s right. Because I’m watching you. I see you, probably really see you better than anyone else ever has .”
She’s coming alive on my sketchbook, and I don’t want to draw this on too much longer. We drift into silence as I work, concentrating fully on my task. Emily slowly comes alive on my pad, the charcoal creating the illusion of her light and curves, making her reality on the page. It’s an incredible feeling, going from nothing to something .
Finally, I put some little finishing touches, and let out a breath. “Okay,” I say. “Are you ready ?”
“You’re finished ?”
I nod and turn it around for her to see. She gapes at it, staring .
“Wow, James,” she says softly. “This is amazing .”
I smile with pure pride. “Thanks .”
“No, seriously. This is amazing.” She looks up at me. “Will you sign it for me ?”
I nod. “Of course.” I sign the bottom corner before carefully tearing it from the pad. She takes it gingerly, staring at the paper, totally forgetting that her top’s still off. I stand up and place the pad down on the ground before picking up my paintbrush and walking toward her .
She looks up at me, and I think she knows what I’m thinking. I can see the moment of doubt and confusion in her eyes, the moment where she has to make a choice. I kneel down next to her and carefully take the sketch away. I place it on the floor before tipping her chin toward me, leaving a smudge of charcoal on her skin .
She looks into my eyes. “James,” she says softly .
“You’ve been hiding,” I say. “I don’t now why. I can guess, but
I won’t. I just want you to know that I don’t care. None of us do. We just want you to come back .”
She bites her lower lip. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “I don’t know if I can… do this .”
“Yes, you can,” I whisper, and I kiss her .
She hesitates before kissing me back. We fall deep into passion as I press her back against the couch. I kiss her lips, letting her tongue in my mouth, tasting her, feeling her. My hands tease her breasts and nipples before sliding down to her jean shorts. I unbutton her button and tug them down over her round, full ass. She lets me take them off, and soon she’s wearing nothing but her panties .
My fingers test her pussy. She’s dripping wet, just like I knew she was. I slip my hand down the front of her before pushing my fingers deep inside .
She gasps into my kiss, moaning softly. I fuck her with my fingers before teasing her clit like that, getting her perfectly wet, soaking and slick .
“I’ve missed you,” I say softly, pulling back. I move down her body, kissing her, lingering on her nipples as I take her panties off. She lets me, lets me get her completely naked. I spread her legs wide, her pussy dripping wet .
I move down between her legs and she looks down at me, panting, excited. “I’ve missed you too,” she admits, although it pains her a little bit .
“Good,” I say. I take the brush, handle first, and I tease her pussy with it .
Her eyes go wide. “James .”
I smirk. “It’s my lucky brush. Like I said.” I slowly press it inside of her .
She groans. I’m happy I brought one of my biggest brushes with me. I press the handle in deeper, it’s smooth, hard surface fucking her. I lean forward and lick her clit as I slide the brush in and out .
This is what I’ve been needing. I need to hear her moans, feel her body, taste her skin. I press the brush in deeper and deeper, making her writhe with pleasure .
My tongue laps along her clit, sucking and licking, making her get closer and closer to the edge. I want to remind her why she can’t stay away from us. I need her to remember what we can do to her, make her feel. I fuck her with the brush faster and faster, moving along with her moans, keeping time with her breaths. I suck and lap her up, loving her taste, losing myself in the moment .