Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “Okay, Mr. Beautiful. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” I grabbed his hand and headed for the exit.

  “Wait, Sloan!” Etienne held back. “What did you think? Is this something you might possibly do?”

  “Hell no!”

  “Max thinks you have the perfect face for photos.”

  “Thanks a fucking lot but I’m not interested. Who’s Max?”

  “The photographer, silly.”

  “Oh. That’s nice.” I turned to see Max watching our exchange. He gave me the raised eyebrow, expecting me to jump at the offer. I shrugged my shoulders and mouthed, sorry.

  His mouth dropped open, apparently shocked by my response. I guess no one in their right mind would refuse a chance like this, but I really wasn’t interested. I started walking away and he caught up to me, tapping me on the shoulder. “Are you for real?”

  “Of course I’m for real,” I replied, surprised that he even cared to ask.

  “How could you possibly say no to me?”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Just ’cause I’m gay doesn’t mean I have to strike a pose,” I said, doing my best imitation of Madonna.

  He grinned and asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Sloan Driscoll. Why?”

  “I like you.”

  “Do you?” I stopped and really looked at him. Now that the shoot was over, he seemed quite normal, shedding the bitchy persona easily. I was disarmed by his grin, and of course, hearing him say he liked me was always a good icebreaker. The fact that he had a nice body, which he showed off in the wife beater and tight jeans, certainly helped his cause, not to mention the full beard cut really, really short. He reminded me of Freddie Mercury toward the end of his career, just before he started to look bad.

  “You like Queen?” I asked suddenly.

  He laughed. “Why, do I remind you of Freddie?”

  I smiled. “You’ve heard that, huh?”

  He nodded. “I adore Queen.”

  “Cool,” I said, ridiculously pleased for some reason.

  “Listen,” Max said, stepping forward and touching my arm, “do you want to grab a beer or something?”

  “Or something,” I answered, encouraged by his gentle touch.

  COLE HAD spent the better part of his afternoon ensconced with Dr. Butterman. John had done his research on guide dogs as Cole had requested. He had several brochures on his desk in large print and in Braille.

  “How does this work, John? Do they bring the dog to me all trained?”

  “No. In the case of Seeing Eye dogs, you have to go to Morristown, New Jersey, and spend time training on their campus. They won’t release a dog unless they are confident that you are just as well trained as your pet. You have to learn how to work together, care for the animal, give him the right signals, and become comfortable with each other. It’s a marriage of sorts and very rewarding when it works.”

  “That’s a big commitment, John. I’d have to wait until I graduate before I can take time off to do that.”

  “That’s not far off, is it?”

  “No. About four more months.”

  “That will give you time to apply and make plans. It’s like bringing a new baby into the house, Cole. Everything has to be just right.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Things are a little different now that I have a roommate.”

  “I didn’t know you had a roommate; when did that happen?”

  Cole told him all about Sloan, leaving out the one part he really should have talked about. He just couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

  “I’m sure that Sloan will be willing to help with the dog. They’re pretty hard to resist.”

  “We’ll see,” Cole replied. “What time is it?”

  “It’s almost five o’clock. Were you going to take the subway back?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it.”

  “Why don’t you? We did fine the other day,” John said kindly, trying not to push.

  “You were with me, John. I don’t think I’m ready to do this on my own yet.”

  “Shall I go with you one more time? I don’t mind.”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “Let’s go, Cole.” John stood and grabbed his cane, pulling Cole along by the hand. They headed to the elevator and made their way out of the building.

  “Remember how I told you that you have to see with your other senses?” he asked, speaking softly as they headed toward the stairs that would lead them down to the subway.

  “Yes.”

  “Your hearing will tell you which side of the street the cars are coming from, where the other fast footsteps are in relation to your own. You should move when the crowd moves. Count steps in the beginning, but soon you won’t need to. Your body will tell you when you get to the end of a stairwell, especially after you’ve ridden the subway for a while. You’ll feel the crowd moving in and out of the doors, and you’ll literally go with the flow.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It’s not easy, but eventually, you stop thinking and just do it. Your guide dog will be a tremendous help when you’re out in public. He’ll become your eyes.”

  “What about something unexpected?”

  “Your hearing should alert you to unexpected noises such as construction or emergency vehicles. The dog will stop and not allow you to move forward. He’ll be much better for you than this cane is for me.”

  “Why don’t you have a dog, John?”

  “I have macular degeneration, Cole. It’s age related, and although I’m legally blind, my vision is still better than yours. I can get by with the cane.”

  “I still have some vision.”

  “I know, son, but you have to prepare for the worst.”

  “Is it really going to happen?”

  “You will go blind, Cole. It’s not a question of if; it’s a question of when.”

  “I’ve heard cases where people have coasted for years with tunnel vision like mine.”

  “It’s true, but you can’t count on it.”

  Cole sighed deeply, leaning into Dr. Butterman. “I feel so alone sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry, son. Isn’t your family any consolation? Your girl?”

  “John, I’m so confused.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  By then the train was pulling into their stop and they both stood. Cole shook his head and said, “Another time, okay?”

  “Whenever you’re ready, Cole.”

  “John, why don’t you go back uptown? I think I can manage from here.”

  “Are you sure? It’s no trouble at all.”

  “I’m positive. I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”

  “Okay, Cole.” John embraced him. “Take it easy, son.”

  “Thank you.”

  They stepped off the train and John turned left, to cross over to the other side, while Cole turned right, following the crowd. He stepped on the escalator without a problem, and when he got to the first level, he did a hard right, knowing there was another long flight of stairs he needed to climb to the top floor. He managed them easily, not tripping at all, and he was a little giddy with his success. He forgot to pay attention to his surroundings. He didn’t listen to the noises around him as John had taught him on more than one occasion. He didn’t hear the running feet, nor did he pay attention to the whistle, so when he was hit from behind, he was completely surprised. Someone had run into Cole, shoving him violently in the back so that he landed on his knees before he fell forward and scraped his face along the concrete. His breath was knocked out of him, but the worst part of it all was the humiliation of lying there while people walked or ran around him. No one bothered to stop and see if he was hurt. Not one gesture of kindness or concern, and he lay there, listening to his heart beating wildly and wondering how he ever thought he’d be able to do this.

  12

  TIN AND I parted ways because I insisted on going home to change before meetin
g him and Max at the bar on 14th Street. I’d decided to grab a quick shower and put on something nice. I’d been in the same clothes all day and I smelled like shit. If there was any hope of getting laid, I’d have to earn it. Max was a photographer, after all, and used to dealing with beautiful people.

  The subway was crowded. Everyone was trying to get home at the same time. There was a small group of people gathered around a body sprawled in the walkway, just before the stairs, and a few cops were close by talking to witnesses and writing down information. I was about to go around the crowd when I happened to look down, and I saw Cole on the ground. He was moaning and holding his head, attempting to sit up.

  I knelt instinctively, took his hand, and pulled him up gently. “Cole, are you okay?”

  He opened his eyes and looked at my face, trying to focus. He seemed to have trouble seeing me, because he was squinting and blinking his eyes repeatedly. “Sloan?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. I think someone pushed me.”

  “Here, let me help you up. Can you stand?”

  He sat up and put his hands up to his face. His hair fell in a black sheet across his forehead, and there was a slight gash on his right cheek where he must have scraped it. His hands were trembling slightly, and I could tell he was about ready to lose it. His lips quivered and he gnawed on them, doing his best not to break down. There was something terribly tragic about this scene, and it touched the part of me that wanted to comfort and nurture at the same time. I moved to put my arms around him, disregarding my earlier vow to stay away. I held him tightly against my body, whispering words of comfort and little by little, I felt the trembling ease up.

  “Can you walk?” I asked in a voice that only he could hear.

  “I think so.”

  “Let’s see, okay?”

  I pulled him up slowly, waiting to see if he could stand on his own. He wavered a little, but eventually righted himself. His cheeks were pink with the exertion, but he looked determined to get the hell out of there. He waved the cops away, telling them he was fine.

  “Sloan, take me home.”

  “Let’s go.”

  I picked up his backpack and hefted it over my left shoulder. I put my right arm around him and held him close. “Can you walk okay?”

  “Yes. Let’s fucking go.”

  We walked down the dank hallway and climbed the stairs out to street level. It was dark, probably close to seven o’clock when we finally got to the apartment building. I nodded at the doorman and pushed Cole into the elevator. When we got inside our apartment, I put down the backpack and led Cole toward the bathroom. He didn’t resist at all, following meekly like a child. I made him sit on the toilet seat before I took a washcloth and rinsed it out with hot water. I began to clean his face, wiping away the blood as well as the grime that had stuck to him when he slid on the concrete floor.

  I was as gentle as possible, but he must have been in pain because he started to cry. Big tears rolled down his cheeks, and I stopped what I was doing, wondering how the warm washcloth could possibly be causing this.

  “Cole, am I hurting you?”

  He shook his head and put his arms around my waist and began to sob, making horrible, despairing sounds that filled the small room with his anguish. I had never heard anything like it, and it tore at my gut. I wanted to scream and punch a hole in the wall, anything to make this stop. Instead, I pulled him up and pressed his entire length against me. I held him for what seemed like hours but in reality was only a few minutes. He continued to weep, and I decided to move him to his room, so he could lie down to try and sleep.

  “Cole, do you have any pills that can calm you down? Xanax or Valium?”

  “No.” He swiped his face with the back of his hand, hoping this would stop the tears but they continued to flow. I left him for a minute and went to my room to get a pill from my secret stash.

  He took the pill without question, swallowing it with a sip of water from the glass I’d brought with it. I knelt down and started to untie his shoes, urging him to lie down and rest.

  “Sloan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t.” I stood and went to get my phone so I could text Tin to let him know that I wouldn’t be joining him. I hoped that Max would understand and give me another chance.

  When I got back to the room, I saw that Cole was already stretched out on the bed, lying on top of the comforter with all his clothes on. One arm was draped over his face, covering his eyes, while the other was stretched out, reaching for my hand. I took it and felt myself being pulled down on the bed. I toed off my shoes quickly and I lay beside him, surprised when he turned toward me and pressed his body up against mine.

  He was still crying. His tears were tearing me apart, and I lifted his face with my hand and did the unforgivable. I kissed him. He moaned into my mouth and kissed me back. At first they were tender kisses, made to comfort, but they quickly shifted into something else. Trying to restrain myself was unbearable, and even if I wanted to pull away, it would have been impossible. Cole had me firmly in his grip. His mouth was ravaging mine, the hungry sounds that were coming from deep within him goading me on.

  He threw his leg over my hips and rubbed his cock against me. He was hard and I groaned when I felt him. Encouraged, he pressed closer, grabbing my ass and pulling me tightly against his erection as we rutted against each other.

  “Sloan,” he whispered desperately, making me almost come in my pants.

  “Cole.” I attempted to stop, pushing away for a second and looking at his face. His eyes were closed, his lashes spiked with tears. “Please, don’t stop,” he begged, and I was powerless to resist.

  I started to remove his clothes, unbuttoning his pants, tugging at his shirt. He helped as soon as he realized what I was doing. He lifted his hips off the bed, allowing me to slide the pants down his legs, followed shortly by his boxers. His cock was thick and heavy, nestled amidst a thatch of dark hair. The crown was plump and rosy red, seeping drops of moisture from its slit. I whimpered, wanting him fiercely. I had to taste him again, needed to feel that silky softness against my tongue, relish the muskiness that was uniquely his. I took him in my mouth and sighed. He clutched my head with both hands, pulling at my hair as I began to suck on him.

  This time he wouldn’t let me finish him off. Just as he was about to climax, he pushed my head away and pulled me up his torso. He rolled us over, bracing himself on either side of my head, kissing me deeply. It seemed as if he wanted this to go on forever, holding me at arm’s length, refusing to come until he was good and ready.

  “I want you,” he growled, in a voice heavy with passion.

  I fumbled with my pants, moved by his words. He stared intently, squinting his eyes like he was in the sun, but they never left mine. The deep blue seemed to be lit up, burning with a fire that came from some unknown place inside him.

  “I want you,” he growled once more, impatient with my inept fumbling. He moved away from me and rested on his heels, on legs that were spread apart with his cock lying thick in between. He gasped when he saw me at my hardest.

  “Mother of God,” he whispered reverently. Just the reaction I was hoping for. He moved back to me, reaching out and wrapping his hand around my shaft. The strangled sound that came out of me was the release of a pent-up breath. I wanted him to touch me, to put his mouth on my cock, and I actually screamed when he did. My fantasy exploded in my brain, far surpassed by the reality of the deed.

  I was too caught up in my pleasure to really think about the implications of what was happening. Cole was tentative at first but quickly found his stride as I writhed and panted with each stroke of his tongue. He was surprisingly good at this for a newbie, taking me deeper with each second that passed. I tried not to fuck his mouth, restraining myself out of courtesy, but he was like a man possessed, needing every bit of me. I was impressed that he could handle me, since my last
partner kept telling me I was too big for him to enjoy.

  It was too intense, too fast, and I pulled out just in time, preferring not to come down his throat. I honestly didn’t think he could handle it. Cole pumped my cock as I overflowed in his hand, and he surprised me by bending down and licking up the residue from my cock and my balls, humming his pleasure. I was touched by his gesture, never expecting it.

  “I want to fuck you,” he said, moving back up my body and lying on top of me. He said this matter-of-factly, like he was asking for a grilled cheese sandwich. I had no idea if he’d ever fucked a guy before, and my experience was minimal at best. But I hoped that we’d figure this out and fumble our way to the finish line.

  “Do you have a condom?”

  He reached over and pulled at the drawer on the nightstand and waved a packet in his hand. I grabbed it and saw that it was the lubricated kind, thank God. I didn’t think he’d have any kind of lube and I really didn’t feel like getting all torn up. I handed him the foil packet and watched him tear at it with his teeth, rolling the condom on with practiced hands. I watched and wondered where this was all heading, but there was something about him tonight that stopped me from protesting. He seemed intent on experiencing everything with me, as if he were trying to prove something to himself, or exorcise demons that had been haunting him for a long time.

  Cole pushed, angling his hips as he bypassed the tight rings that were impeding his way. When he finally felt my body suck up his cock he kissed me, muffling the dual screams that remained in our throats. He paused to catch a breath, but I could tell that he was blown away by this new sensation when he looked at me in wonder.

  “I had no idea it would be like this,” he spoke, like an explorer who had just found a new country. He began to move again, pushing in and out, all the while sighing and making these little grunting noises I was starting to recognize as a prelude to his orgasm.

  I began to move against him, easily matching his stride and soon we thrust against each other like we’d been doing this for years.