by Neil Plakcy
He dressed carefully, pulling on a dark-blue linen shirt that brought out his eyes and a pair of skinny jeans. Tougher to get out of quickly, but they showed off his assets well.
As he stepped into the restaurant’s lobby, he saw a dozen small tables off to his left and an ornate wooden bar to his right. Miles stood at one end, leaning across the bar talking to the bartender, and Gavin felt a pang of jealousy.
Miles looked like he’d just finished a long day’s work. He wore a form-fitting T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, his dark hair was tousled, and he had a five o’clock shadow. Gavin felt silly for having dressed up.
He walked up on them, and Miles turned and extended his hand. “Thanks, Gavin. I think this is going to be a great partnership.”
Gavin liked the feel of Miles’s hand in his. His grip was strong, his fingers long, his nails clean and well-manicured.
“What can I get you to drink?” Miles asked.
“I’ll take a Cosmo,” Gavin said. As long as Miles was buying, he’d go upscale from his usual beer.
They leaned against the bar, and Miles said, “I’ve been listening to ‘Apple Cider Time.’ Which one of the sisters is your grandmother?”
“Frances,” Gavin said. “The lead.”
“The mezzo,” Miles said. “Mezzo-soprano. That means her voice range is between the high notes of the soprano and the lower notes of the contralto. Her range is probably from the A below middle C to the A two octaves above.”
Gavin was processing the music terminology as the bartender brought his Cosmo and a margarita rocks for Miles. They clinked their glasses together.
“Aunt Ida sings the high notes, so that makes her the soprano, right?”
“Exactly.”
“And Aunt Myrtle is the contra-alto.”
“It’s all one word. Contralto. Now you, you’re a baritone. That’s the most common type of male voice. You said you have two cousins who are going to sing too?”
This wasn’t the way Gavin had expected the evening to play out. He had been hoping to get to know Miles more, but Miles was all business. He’d even pulled out a pocket notebook and begun taking notes.
“My cousin Erica just graduated from music school, and she’s starting a master’s in opera in the fall. She says she’s a colorful soprano.”
“Coloratura,” Miles said. “You’ve got to get these terms down, Gavin, if you’re going to sing professionally. Coloratura means she can do lots of tricks with her voice in the high register, trills and runs and so on.”
Gavin nodded. “Yeah, she does that kind of thing when we sing together. Her senior performance was Tytania in the opera of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and she killed it.”
“And your other cousin?”
“Archie is a bass, I know that. He sang with an a cappella group in college. It’s kind of funny, because he has pale skin and red hair, but he has this dark, almost wolfish tone to his voice. He does a lot of beat box stuff too.”
He gave Miles the name of Archie’s college group and then answered a lot of questions about how the family sang together. “Grandma Frances wavers sometimes,” Gavin said. “It’s almost like she knows what she wants to sing, but her voice can’t keep up.”
“That’s going to be tough with her singing lead,” Miles said. “In the recordings, the other two are always following her.”
“Yeah, that’s what Erica said. She says I’m going to have to carry the melody.”
“Sounds like we have a lot of work to do.” Miles picked up his glass and drained the last of his margarita. “Thanks for meeting me, Gavin. This is all useful information.” He stood up to leave. “Keep practicing those exercises, and we’ll be in touch once the dust settles on the contract.”
“Wait.” Gavin stood up, close to Miles, and looked in his eyes. “I can’t do it,” he said, surprised at his own words. “I can’t spend so much time with you at Starlit Lake and not know what it’s like to kiss you.” He leaned forward and kissed Miles on the lips.
There was an electric tingle as their lips met, and Gavin inhaled, sharing breath with Miles. Gavin was scared that Miles would pull back, the way he had when Gavin tried to suck on his fingers, but after only a brief hesitation, Miles was kissing him back, their lips pressing together. Gavin pulled Miles close, and Miles put his hands on Gavin’s back.
Gavin opened his lips a bit more and met Miles’s tongue, and his body trembled. This felt so right, being in this man’s arms, kissing him. It was all he wanted, he realized. Just to be with Miles, to hold him and kiss him.
But Miles pulled back. “We can’t do this, Gavin. It’s going to screw everything up. I’ve seen it happen too many times when an artist and a producer get together.” He stepped away. “It’s not about you or about me. It’s about the two of us together, how combustible that could be, and how it could ruin everything we’d be working for.”
Gavin’s emotions were swooping from highs to lows. “You don’t know that.” He stepped back into Miles’s space and kissed him again. He sensed the tension in Miles’s body, and it felt almost like those very first overtures he’d made, when he was a teenager, to another boy who wasn’t sure what he wanted.
But Miles knew. “I’m not a love-struck teenager who makes out in a public bar,” he said. “My apartment.”
“I’m with you,” Gavin said. “But we’re going to have to move quickly.”
“You’re a goof,” Miles said, but he leaned in and kissed Gavin again. “All good things are worth waiting for, you know.”
He took Gavin’s hand, and they walked out of the bar together. The humidity was intense, and after the cool interior of the bar, Miles’s glasses misted up. He had to take them off and wipe them on his shirt. He looked so vulnerable without them, Gavin thought, as if Miles used those hipster lenses as a shield between him and the world. It made him want to wrap Miles in his arms and never let him go.
They followed the narrow side street north, under the shelter of palm trees. “I still think this is a mistake,” Miles said as they passed through a couple of blocks of single-family houses, white stucco with red barrel-tile roofs. He held on to Gavin’s hand, though. “Just for the record.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gavin said.
“I don’t want you to think I do this all the time.”
“I don’t care if you do,” Gavin said.
“I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a good-looking, sexy guy. You work hard, and you deserve to play sometimes.”
“You’re a sweet talker,” Miles said. “Good kisser too.”
They stopped in the shelter of an Art Deco-style apartment building with those long outcroppings over the windows, called eyebrows, and kissed again. Let anybody look, Gavin thought. I’m staking a claim here.
Miles pulled away and tugged him around a corner into Collins Park, a pocket neighborhood of more of those low-rise apartments with rounded curves and porthole windows. Miles’s building had been slotted between two Art Deco buildings, with glass curves that matched the surrounding buildings.
He led Gavin into the lobby and nodded at the concierge. Gavin wondered for a moment if, despite what Miles had said, he did this a lot, brought guys back to his place—but then he pushed the thought away and focused on being there, with Miles. They held hands in the elevator, and once they reached the apartment, Miles unlocked the door and pulled Gavin inside.
Miles rubbed his face against Gavin’s, and the rasp of his stubble sent vibrations direct to Gavin’s groin. He sighed into Miles’s ear and felt Miles relax into him. Miles reached under Gavin’s T-shirt and splayed his hands on Gavin’s washboard abs. His long fingers caressed Gavin’s skin, eliciting sensations he’d never felt before.
Miles picked up a remote from the table by the door and started his sound system. Then he returned his attention to Gavin. He unbuttoned Gavin’s shirt, then pulled off his own, and they embraced again. Gavin’s smooth skin rubbed against Miles’s soft ch
est hair, and it felt like every nerve ending in Gavin’s skin was electrified. His dick was already hard, and so was Miles’s. They moved together to the music’s rhythm, skin touching, dicks pressing against pants legs.
Gavin was in no hurry to get naked with Miles. He’d waited too long for this moment, and he had no idea when he’d get another chance. So he forced himself to go slowly, to revel in Miles’s musky scent, to caress his biceps and feel the tender skin of his lower back. He traced that pattern of music notes up Miles’s arm. “Is this a particular melody?”
“The first four notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.” Miles sang, “Duh-duh-duh-DAH.”
“Why that?”
“It was revolutionary for his time. The tempo is so fast—one hundred eight beats per minute. And it has a fermata after that fourth note. That means you can hold that note for as long as you want.” Miles shrugged. “It just spoke to me, I guess.” He smiled at Gavin, leaned forward, and kissed him again.
As they kissed, Gavin listened to the slow, sexy Latin tune, and he began to move in time with the music. Miles began to sway his hips, and he took Gavin’s hand. “Let me teach you a dance,” he said, his voice thick.
“I dance better barefoot.” Gavin kicked off his deck shoes, and while he did, Miles removed his shoes and socks as well. Then Miles put one hand around Gavin’s waist and the other on his shoulder and swiveled his hips.
Gavin did his best to follow his lead, and it felt so right to be in Miles’s arms. Gavin dug his hands beneath the waistband of Miles’s sweatpants, feeling the smooth skin of Miles’s hips.
When the song ended, Gavin reached forward and rested his palm against Miles’s hard-on. It was warm and felt thick, and Miles shivered at his touch. Gavin’s hair fell over Miles’s shoulder.
Gavin couldn’t wait any longer, so he untied the string that held Miles’s sweatpants up, and they slid down over Miles’s narrow hips.
He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Gavin slid to his knees and cupped the hefty dick and balls in his hand. “Nice,” he said.
Miles groaned as Gavin licked from his dick’s root to its tip. Gavin grabbed the round globes of Miles’s ass and pushed his head down, swallowing Miles until his nose was buried in the rich, wiry bush. “Not here,” Miles panted. “Bedroom.”
Miles tugged Gavin to his feet and turned toward an open door. Barefoot and bare-chested but still wearing his skinny jeans, Gavin followed. He admired Miles’s ass, a glowing tan with a trail of dark hair disappearing into the cleft.
Three of the bedroom walls were covered with vintage concert posters; a tall bookcase jammed with oversize books took up the other. At the center was a big bed with a black-lacquered frame. It was neatly made, with white sheets peeking out from beneath a geometric-patterned comforter, big fluffy pillows at the head.
Gavin planned to make a mess out of that carefully made bed. He pushed Miles backward, and Miles flopped on his back as Gavin crawled on top of him. He began kissing and licking his way down Miles’s furry chest, burying his nose in the feathery-light hair, until the landscape changed and he was in the domain of the tight curlies.
His hair falling around him like a curtain, he nosed around Miles’s crotch, inhaling his tangy scent, while Miles put his hands on Gavin’s shoulders and urged him forward. “Don’t tease me, man. Just suck me. Please.”
“All in good time.” Gavin loved the feeling of Miles’s hands on his skin, the way Miles dug into his shoulders like a massage therapist.
He took a few experimental licks up the lollipop of Miles’s dick, and Miles shivered beneath him. “Dios mio,” Miles said in a raspy voice that was almost a growl.
Gavin took Miles’s dick in his mouth, nibbled around the mushroom cap, licked, and sucked. He tried to go slowly, to savor the feeling of having this man in his power. Miles squirmed and wiggled and muttered Spanish phrases.
The precum oozing from the tip was a salty aphrodisiac, like oysters or caviar, and Gavin couldn’t get enough of it. Miles grabbed a fistful of Gavin’s hair and tensed. “I’m sorry,” he panted. “Can’t hold back…been too long.”
Gavin pushed forward, sucking and licking as hard as he could, tickling Miles’s balls and the sensitive area around the base of his cock, and then Miles was bucking beneath him and shooting his load. Gavin was proud to swallow it all.
He squirmed around so that he was head-to-head with Miles, who was breathing heavily. “You going to be okay?” Gavin asked. “You being an older dude and all.”
“I’ll show you older.” In a moment, Miles was up and had his hand on the mound of Gavin’s dick through his tight jeans. Gavin resisted helping as Miles fumbled them open.
As soon as he could reach it, Miles began licking the pouch of Gavin’s briefs. His sudden burst of aggression fueled Gavin’s lust, and he felt his dick tensing with anticipation, the precum beginning to leak. Miles jerked down the waistband of Gavin’s briefs, and his dick jumped out.
Miles looked up at Gavin for a moment, his eyes glazed with passion and lust, and Gavin’s heart leaped. Then, with a grin, Miles went back down and gobbled Gavin’s dick, taking the long, slim length of it in his mouth. That wet warmth was almost enough to put Gavin over the edge. Then Miles grabbed his balls and began to massage them and started an up-and-down motion on Gavin’s dick.
Gavin began to whimper as his orgasm built. “Oh God, oh God, Miles,” he groaned. Then he shot the load he’d been wanting to ever since he felt Miles’s hand on his throat. Miles gulped and licked and swallowed whatever he could.
Gavin leaned forward and kissed him, tasting the salt of his own cum on Miles’s lips. He slipped down beside Miles, feeling the heat rising from Miles’s body, and rested one long leg over Miles’s legs. His dick was pressed against the smooth skin of Miles’s hip. “I could stay like this forever,” Gavin said. He nuzzled his cheek against the grit on Miles’s chin.
Miles didn’t answer, and it took Gavin a moment to realize that Miles had dropped off to sleep beside him.
The Limits of Language
When Gavin awoke on Saturday morning, he was alone in a king-size bed that he knew immediately was not his own. He looked around groggily, but once he focused on the music posters above the bed, he knew just where he was.
He heard the shower stop, and then Miles Goodwin walked into the bedroom, rubbing a towel over his head. Naked, he was a fine specimen, and Gavin took a moment to appraise what he’d only had a brief chance to study the night before. Miles had a stocky chest covered with a light furring and a healthy-size dick nestled in a tangle of pubic hair.
“What?” Miles asked. He grabbed for a pair of shorts. “I know I have love handles.”
“They call them that for a reason,” Gavin said, smiling. “Because I’d love to get a handle on them.”
Miles stopped with the shorts still in his hand. “Really? You don’t mind that I’m not…you know, buff?”
Gavin sat up in bed. “You look plenty buff for me.” It was true that Miles could stand to lose a few pounds and that a regular gym workout could sculpt his muscles. But none of that mattered to Gavin. After lusting after Miles for weeks, he’d finally had his chance to make the man’s lap rocket shoot off, and he couldn’t have been happier.
He patted the bed next to him. “Why don’t you come join me, and I’ll show you just what I think about your body?”
Miles grinned. “I’d love that. But I’ve got a recording session this morning, and I’ve got to get moving.”
Gavin was disappointed.
“But if you’re free tonight…” Miles said.
Gavin bounced up from the bed like an eager puppy. “You bet.” His dick wagged as he hopped over to Miles, and they wrapped their naked bodies together. Over Miles’s shoulder, Gavin saw the clock. “Shoot. I’ve got to get to work too.”
“Just pull the door shut when you leave,” Miles said as he turned to his bureau. Gavin was able to get a good look at Miles’s sweet ass, two rounded g
lobes with a light dusting of brown hair. Miles stepped into a pair of briefs, then turned to look at him. “What?”
“Just admiring the view,” Gavin said.
“You’ll have plenty of time to admire tonight,” Miles said. “You’d better get in the shower unless you want every customer to know what you’ve been up to.”
He swatted Gavin on the butt as he walked over to the closet. Gavin grabbed his shoulder and stopped him, then leaned in for a long kiss. “Call me when you’re finished with work,” he said when they had pulled back. Then he walked into the bathroom, conscious of Miles watching him move.
By the time he got out of the shower, Miles was gone. Gavin pulled on the linen shirt and tight jeans he hadn’t spent much time in the night before. He checked the handle after he pulled the door to Miles’s apartment shut and made sure it was locked, then hurried down to Lincoln Road, arriving at Java Joe’s just in time to clock in for his shift.
“You are very happy this morning, bwoi,” Careful said after watching Gavin hop around behind the bar, flirting and grinding beans and pouring coffee.
“I’m just a happy kind of guy,” Gavin said, grinning.
“Well, whoever this man is, you can tell him he’s very good for business.”
Gavin spent the day in a delirious haze, thinking of Miles and anticipating the evening. His spirits plunged, though, when he got a text from Miles late in the afternoon. Session running long. Have 2 reschedge. At least he’d ended the message with a little red heart.
When he woke on Sunday morning, he found an e-mail Miles had sent at two a.m. Sorry about last night, but PB is a big client and very demanding. Just got home a few minutes ago, and I have to be back there all day tomorrow. I had a great time Friday night and can’t wait to see you again. Can you come to the studio after your shift on Monday?
Well, that was something, Gavin thought. He typed a message in return. Of course they need you, because you are awesome in every way. I’ll see you Monday at two.
He hit Send and then sat up in bed with the book Miles had given him, learning about meter, rhythm, and the values of notes and rests.