Blank Space

by Francis Gideon

  "How bad?"

  "How bad does it feel the next day? Well, sometimes I'm tender. I can't sit too fast. But there are ways to stop that."

  "Ways?" Curtis asked, voice seeming far away.

  "Yeah. Simone and I considered getting a butt plug for a while. I could wear it in the office, prepare myself all day for when she comes home. But there was... there was never enough time."

  "Uh-huh." Curtis was quiet again, but Adrian could hear the questions in his breath.

  Adrian wished he was better with words, so that he could write an entire novel to describe the whole scene. He was so hard and he knew that affected how he thought. But he wanted to keep going. "I suppose most sex seems boring unless you're in it, so I'll skip to the ending. I mean—I don't know if you've had a g-spot orgasm at the same time as coming, but my God. You don't feel like your body is there anymore. You're weightless and boneless. I like...I like coming while someone's still inside of me. Because then when I'm fucked again, my body is a mess of sensation. It's almost like it's not mine."

  "But you still feel it?"

  "Oh, yeah. I feel—I felt—everything."

  Now they were both quiet. Adrian's hand lingered on his pants, but he couldn't masturbate. Not here. But when he got home, he could imagine all the things he'd to do Simone—or ask her to do to him. And Curtis? Adrian thought. I wonder what he'll ask Darcy to do. Would he think of this—of me—too?

  At that thought, the CD finished. Thom York's warning cries in "Street Spirit" faded away, leaving Adrian with the memory of the guitar's sound. He cupped his hand over the small tent in his pants and hissed. He thought he heard Curtis do the same, but in the sudden quiet, Adrian could only focus on how hard he was—and the sudden plodding feet down the hall. Their wives, clearly getting ready to go. Curtis must have heard it too, because he shot up on the couch, nearly tripping over the blanket Adrian had around himself, and lunged at the door before the knocks sounded.

  "Hey, Curtis..."

  "Yeah, D?" Curtis said, opening up a crack. "What do you need?"

  Darcy's dark eyes widened, looking around the room. Adrian gave her a small wave from the floor and hoped his position wasn't too curios. Darcy eyed the blanket and Curtis's face.

  "Were you guys sleeping?"

  "Yeah," Curtis said, laughing slightly. "It's been a long day."

  Adrian pressed his lips together. A lie. Small, white lie, but something Adrian couldn't ignore the meaning of.

  "Well, sorry to wake you. But..."

  "It's okay," Curtis insisted. "Really, we intended to listen to music but it got the best of us Anyway. I'm sorry, D. What's up?"

  Adrian got up from the floor, still holding the blanket in front of him as he glanced at Darcy. "My wife's asking for me, isn't she?"

  Darcy pushed the door open a little more, allowing light inside. She gave Adrian a small nod. "Yeah, she and Kayla are pretty tired. I think Kayla's actually sleeping on her feet if Simone doesn't have her in her arms yet."

  The small tableau Darcy described made Adrian's heart swell. His erection was getting softer by the minute, but the sting on his skin—from the music, the tension in the room—still remained. "That's good. She'll go right to bed. I'll...Can you tell Simone I'll be right there?"

  "Sure." Darcy gave Curtis a quick peck. "See you both soon."

  Curtis shut the door, but still left a crack of light visible. Adrian soon noted Curtis's stiff posture and how he angled his body. The light from the doorway gave Adrian enough to see the shadows of expression on Curtis's face. And Adrian knew that Curtis felt the same way then. He saw it in his eyes, in the parts of his body he struggled to hide.

  But there was still nothing they could do.

  "So... The cover band?" Curtis asked. "You'll send me the info so I can plan it?"

  "Yes, definitely," Adrian said. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

  Curtis smiled again, but he seemed pained. He kept his hand on the doorknob with his back stiff, even as Adrian walked closer. Normally, Adrian would have given Curtis a hug goodbye. But now, as their eyes met and he saw the same feeling reflected back, Adrian knew that a hug tonight was not a good idea.

  "See you." Adrian waved.

  Curtis waved back. It was small, but for Adrian, it was enough.

  *~*~*

  At home, after Simone had put Kayla to bed, Adrian slid up behind her and pressed his hands against her waist.

  "Ohh, hello. Not exhausted after your long day?"

  Adrian didn't answer. Still half-hard from Curtis's place, he needed to find some kind of relief—and to also reassure himself that he was still a good man and good husband. He traced his fingers over Simone's middle and cupped her breasts. He pressed his cock into her thighs and heard her moan.

  "You're adventurous tonight," she said through a bated breath. She kicked her leg between his, and used the momentum to turn herself around. When their lip crashed together, Adrian opened his mouth and quickly lifted up her shirt. He unclasped her bra, just as she slid her hands over his fly again.

  "Fuck me," he begged, whispering into her ear. She shuddered at the request, and at his tongue over her earlobe, before she kissed him back. With his fly undone and his dick out, Simone's hands traced over his cock before she moved farther between his legs. Adrian moaned as she pressed a finger to his hole without going inside.

  "I'll fuck you if you fuck me, too."

  Adrian saw the hint of a smile and a plan in her gaze. He knew what she wanted. After today, he knew he could give it to her. He nodded into her neck and slipped his hands down her pants to quickly remove them, too.

  "I love you," she whispered as they moved into the bedroom. In that moment, he wanted to tell her everything. And he would. He really would. But for now, he took her face in his hands and just whispered the words back.

  "I love you, too."

  Chapter Six

  "Do you and your friends ever talk about sex?" Curtis asked.

  Darcy looked up from her laptop at the table. She clutched her mug of coffee closer to herself, sipping it as she considered Curtis's sudden question. They were in the middle of their typical Sunday routine: getting up early enough to have the illusion that the kids were sleeping in, so they could square away time for themselves as themselves. Darcy would usually read web comics she followed, or something from Slate as she drank coffee. Curtis would often paw through guitar magazines, or listen to music as he drank coffee across from her at the table. They usually didn't talk much during this time period; that was for late at night, when the day was done and their worries came to the forefront. Last night, though, Curtis had practically pounced on Darcy as soon as Simone and Adrian were out the door. He spent most of the night between her legs, making her moan until they were finally both fucked out and ready for sleep. Even though Curtis knew he was violating the unspoken rule of their Sunday morning routine, he wanted to talk right now. He needed to know whether or not what he and Adrian were doing was normal, or something far, far worse.

  "I know," Curtis said, brushing his hand in the air after Darcy had been silent for a while. "I'm probably bugging you with this..."

  "No, it's fine. Really." She closed the lid of her laptop halfway and took another drink before speaking. "Yeah, of course. I think it's good to talk about sex. Completely healthy. It helps to untangle all the false narratives we give to sex, you know? It's a lot easier to figure out what's normal when we just have adult conversations about it. And that has to happen when we talk about what we do with our friends, not just with our partners. Really, we could all probably benefit from talking about it more."

  Curtis nodded. That was the answer he'd anticipated from Darcy. Straight to the point, but still vague enough to sound like a pitch from one of the magazines she read. Darcy had gone to university for sociology, so she usually had some fairly straight forward opinions on controversial topics. She was open-minded, but conservative in how she expressed all of it. So what else do you expect, really? he ask
ed himself. She answered, and she gave you the answer you needed to hear. Stop worrying about it so much and just let her enjoy her Tassimo cup of really expensive caramel-cream coffee.

  "Why, Curtis?" Darcy asked, her smile friendly and curious. "Were you worried that I talk about you with my friends? Or Camille?"

  "Nah," Curtis said, shaking his head. Camille was Darcy's sister, two years younger, and pretty much Darcy's best friend. "I pretty much expected that."

  "Good. All nice things, of course."

  "Of course."

  "If there was any real issue, you know I'd talk to you, right?"

  "Right. Of course."

  Darcy pursed her lips for a moment, as if waiting for Curtis to add something else.

  "I'd do the same for you too. But I'm happy, really happy," he said, fumbling forward to grab her free hand in a tight squeeze. She grinned—maybe remembering the night before, Curtis hoped—before she brought his hand to her face and kissed his knuckles. After a small nod, she let go of his hand and turned towards the computer.

  Discussion over. Curtis still somehow felt that his conversations with Adrian were not quite the same as Darcy's with Camille. Or maybe women did narrate their sexual conquests, even if they were in the past? What else was there to talk about, really? Curtis just hoped he gave Darcy everything she wanted, everything she needed. Even as he went back to his magazines, he could still feel the wet spots on his knuckles from her lips. These small marks and her moans from the night had to be enough to remind him that he was a good husband, when Darcy's words weren't enough.

  "If you don't mind continuing this topic," Darcy asked a few moments later. When Curtis met her eyes and shook his head, she used her free hand to navigate with her mouse and opened her email. "I got an offer to do a different kind of party recently. A fantasy one. You know what those are, right? "

  "Uhh. I can guess."

  "It's basically selling sex toys like it's a Tupperware party."

  Curtis laughed. That had been what he expected, though not the crass comparison. "Okay. Go on."

  "Well. I've gotten a couple emails about them now. And it's pretty much the perfect place to talk about sex with friends, while still making a bit on the commission. Would you be okay if I hosted one here?"

  "I would be fine, I think. I mean—do what you want, right?"

  "It's not that easy, Curtis. Do what you want sounds fun, but rarely pans out in reality. I still want to make sure it's not going to be uncomfortable for you."

  "Why would it be? You just said: friends should talk about sex more. I would be fine with it. It's a little different than Tupperware, but hey, I can handle it."

  Darcy smiled and took his hands. "I'll be honest: I do really want to have one. It will be a nice break from the constant stream of wedding and baby showers; it will be a party just for fun. Not to mention how good income-wise it would be. Sex sells! But it would mean you'd take the kids away from the house for a few hours. Is that okay? I figured you and Adrian have been so good with them lately..."

  Curtis smiled, then he remembered. Adrian and Simone. The toy they used. Would there be something like this at Darcy's party? And if so, could he get one too? Without her knowing—and without being there?

  "Normally," Darcy went on, taking Curtis's silence as his uncertainty, "I'd just ask Camille to watch the girls during something like this. But she's one of the main people who has been asking me to do this kind of party, and I know she'll bring a bunch of people from her women's studies classes. That will help the party even more—so I need her present. It wouldn't be as fun without her, anyway."

  Camille, Curtis thought. Of course. Darcy's sister would be perfect to enlist buying him a strap-on. It sounded a little perverse in his head—his sister-in-law getting him sex toys?—but it was actually perfect. Camille was young and open minded enough to not care about stuff like this. She was the one who deliberately brought her boyfriend (and his boyfriend) to a family dinner to see if it would cause problems. That had been a fun Thanksgiving, Curtis remembered. It was the one time he had dared wearing a T-shirt that showed his tattoos in front of his in laws, since Camille was the main focus point. Besides, Curtis added, Camille probably already knows the intimate details of our marriage anyway. What was yet another story to draw from later? Curtis suddenly saw a plan fall into place and a new hope emerged.

  Darcy drew her hands to her mug and quickly finished her coffee. "Forget it, okay? I probably sprung this on you too quickly. I can look into other options for now—maybe rent out a community space and say it's a different kind of party altogether. It's not like we're hard up for money, anyway, so there's no real rush..."

  "No," Curtis jumped in. He could already hear the girls stirring upstairs and knew he needed to work quickly. "I'll do it. Sounds fun. When do we start organizing?"

  *~*~*

  "We should move."

  Adrian looked up from the couch. Simone stood by their front window, curtain opened, and moonlight shining in.

  "What's wrong with here?" he asked.

  "Well, those front stairs—and really, all the stairs in here—are murder. But if we have another kid, the only available room is on the top floor, since I highly doubt Kayla would want to share with a baby."

  "Right. Of course." Adrian drew quiet. He muted the TV, though he still followed the silenced dialogue between the characters on the screen, already knowing the episode of Brooklyn 99 well enough. He and Simone had talked a little bit about having the kid, and even tried a few more times, but this was the first real discussion about the pragmatic meanings behind it all; the first serious one with consequences, not just unprotected sex and getting nostalgic about raising Kayla late at night. Adrian rubbed his hands over his jeans and bit a nail. Simone eyed him from where she stood, her brows knitted in the middle of her forehead.

  "Hey. You okay?" She sat down with him on the couch and slid a hand over his. "We don't have to talk about this now."

  "No, it's fine. We have to talk about it, right? We will need to move. I'm surprised Kayla's lasted as long as she has without falling down all these stairs. You're right. There are too many."

  When they had first bought the townhouse on Shank Street (this was the real name of the street, which they had spent at least a month laughing at), they thought it was a semi-permanent place. Everything was far too narrow and far too old to really withstand the family life. But the patio on the roof had been fantastic, and Simone longed to take up pottery or something working with sculptures so she could work outdoors on the roof in the summer. Her artistic adventures had lasted one summer until she had gotten pregnant and they worked on renovating more than moving and art. Adrian made a home-office, Kayla was born and got a room, and they were settled. Secured. They even grew to love the jokes they made about their street name and how dangerous the stairs were. But we can't stay here. If they had another kid—which Adrian really did want, he had decided—then they were going to have to move.

  "We can afford it, too," Adrian went on. "And if we get a bigger place, then I can have a bigger office, too, right?"

  "Of course! And think, if we get a house—a real house—then I can have a basement and I can be a creepy artist working all night!"

  "Heh. I guess. Yeah."

  "Or you could have the basement for the office-slash-music room, and I could take an upstairs area for my art? Either way—we're talking about having real spaces for our hobbies again and not just keeping them in the closet." Simone laughed, realizing the vague pun she had made. "Not as if we're used to that already though, right?"

  "Right. Maybe, yeah. I would like my own space…"

  "Okay. Good. We can work it out."

  Adrian wondered, but didn't say out loud, just how impossible these plans for art and music would be for the first few years of the baby's life. He and Simone would lose sleep as changing and feeding schedules would override any devotion or passion they had for other hobbies. The same thing had happened when Kayla was born, and th
ough they had been a new enough couple to still find care-giving a novelty, Adrian didn't know if another baby would have the same allure. At least I'll be at home this time around. If Simone got maternity leave again, they could both be taking care of the kids in the same house together, without worrying about nine-to-five job life. That thought eased him a little, and he nodded. "Sure. We can both have our own rooms, and the kids can too. Maybe I can finally get some of my old posters out of storage. If we can afford it, why not, right?"

  Simone nodded, but she also squeezed his hand. "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah. I am. Moving is a good idea."

  "But a baby, Adrian." She narrowed her eyes again. Not in a menacing or angry way, but just out of concern. "You said you wanted one. But you're allowed to change your mind. Are you sure you want to keep trying?"

  Adrian smiled weakly. Could he really change his mind? He didn't want to. He wanted another kid. At first, the thought had been surprising—he had been an only child growing up, so part of him imagined himself only having one kid. If he had kids at all. He never liked to think about this future all that much, because well, it made him act the way he was now: chew on his nails to the quick and take deep breathes in and out. Thinking of the future always made him feel like a fraud, because he was always being split in two.

  "I want a baby," Adrian finally said. "I think I'd actually really like raising another."

  "Okay. I believe you."

  "Good."

  This was true. All true. Adrian hoped his voice conveyed it. But when Simone moved on to discuss the other details again, he grew panicked. And more panicked, and more... When he glanced at the TV to try and calm himself, he realized that Brooklyn 99 had ended. Anger grew inside of him. He would always be missing his TV shows with another kid…and his concerts with Curtis. He would always be missing something, Adrian panicked, because he was a flawed...

  "Whoa," Simone said. She clasped her hands around Adrian's shoulders and pulled him closer, looking into his eyes. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

  Adrian tried to nod, but when he opened his mouth to speak, his throat seized up. He felt tears welling in the back of his eyes. No, he thought. No please. Don't let me cry.