I was semi-conscious, miserable and confused as she pulled me into the bathroom, took off my clothes off and shoved me into the shower. While I went into automatic grooming mode, she took a seat on the toilet.
‘You think this is going to turn out badly, don’t you?’
I squinted through the shower spray. ‘Yes, I do. I’m hurt already and it’s going to get worse if I don’t just stay away from them.’
‘Maybe it will all work out nicely. You never know, Shira.’
I looked at her incredulously as I soaped my underarms. ‘Excuse me, Liz, we are talking about a gay couple. Gay – they’re gay – as in “pussy icky-poo”, get it?’
‘Well, it wasn’t so icky-poo last night, was it?’
‘Yeah. But that had to be a little foray into the unknown on their part. Honestly, I think it was just a matter of Jean pitying me for being single. Before he met Sebastian, we used to hang out all the time. I think it was a kind of mercy fuck.’
‘Maybe. Was it a good mercy fuck?’ she said. Then her expression changed. ‘Maybe people just aren’t as black and white as you think, Shira. People aren’t just this or that. You can’t expect them all to stay in neat little categories.’
I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself. Halfway out the bathroom door, Liz coughed loudly.
‘Teeth? Don’t you want to brush your teeth?’ Lizzie, the mother of lost souls, was keeping an eye out for my dental hygiene.
‘Oh, yes. Thanks.’
She bullied me the rest of the way out the door: she chose the clothes; she called the cab; at one point I actually thought she was just trying to get rid of me.
It was called the Elbow Room because there was so little of it. Saturday mornings were almost impossible. You had to know someone who worked there to get a seat. Jean did; he was the food critic for the trendiest ‘what’s on’ magazine in town. His devoted readers had no idea who he was, or what he looked like. With Jean as the faceless master of culinary prose, I had made a number of off-colour jokes about the title of his weekly column, ‘Eating Out’.
Jean and Sebastian were perched on the chrome stools at the fifties-style counter with one empty seat between them. I handed my coat to a snippy waitress and made my way over.
‘Hi,’ I said, hesitantly.
Jean glowered at me. ‘Sit down. We’re just an eensy-weensy bit upset with you right now. So just sit down.’
I did. Somehow, his bad temper made me feel better. Perhaps things were getting back to normal.
Or perhaps not. Jean snaked his hand into my lap and clasped it under the counter. ‘Why didn’t you wake us up, Shira?’
‘Give her a break. She was suffering from angst.’ Sebastian looked at me, dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin and smirked. ‘Isn’t that right, girl?’ he asked. After wiping his hands meticulously, he put the serviette down, grabbed my face in both hands and kissed me loudly, right next to my ear. ‘I told you I’d respect you in the morning, you luscious slut,’ he whispered, before swiping my cheek with the tip of his tongue.
This was a familiar sort of banter; it meant nothing. I tried to put on my most detached smile, but I know I didn’t manage it.
Jean caught one of the counter-staff and ordered me breakfast without even asking what I wanted. ‘Well, angst or no angst, you can just imagine how it made us feel, Shira—like we’d done something awful to you. What human with an ounce of goodwill doesn’t stay for breakfast?’
My food arrived. It shocked me to realize how hungry I was. I chewed on a piece of toast and thought before answering. I couldn’t be honest about why I’d left; I would lose every ounce of dignity I had.
‘You know, I just thought maybe you would want some time to yourselves. I didn’t want to be in the way.’ I looked from Jean to Sebastian and back, trying to discern if this explanation would pass muster. I could see from their faces that it didn’t. It had sounded reasonable to me.
‘Thank you for including me in your thing, you know? It was great. Very fun. I appreciate it. Now it’s time for me to find a mate of my own so I can get on the ark with the rest of the animals.’
‘I thought you loved me, Shira.’ It was Jean and not very lighthearted either. It made my heart go crack.
‘Oh Christ, Jean. I do like you—I love you! You know that. But you have Sebastian now and that’s very cool. You’re a couple.’ There was an awful dryness creeping up my throat and my eyes were starting to sting.
‘What’s this fucking couple thing? That’s so fucking mindlessly pedestrian! It’s a totally baseless construct of a Judeo-Christian culture and I, for one, don’t buy it,’ snapped Jean.
‘How do you explain all the Hindu couples out there? Or all the couples in China? People are just meant to be couples, Jean.’
‘They’re not any smarter or less brainwashed than anyone else. You think white people have a monopoly on stupidity?’ My head swung around to Sebastian who was smirking in an intolerably self-satisfied way.
‘Don’t gang up on me. That’s not fair. Anyway,’ I added, picking up another piece of toast and looking straight ahead,’ I don’t know what this has got to do with anything.’ I took a savage bite and swallowed. ‘I apologize for leaving so early. I certainly didn’t mean to offend anyone. Can’t we just leave it at that? Please?’
Jean leaned forward and looked past me to Sebastian. ‘Can we?’
Sebastian swivelled sideways on his stool to face mine and snatched the half-eaten piece of toast out of my hand. He bit into it and shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, sliding his arms around my waist. ‘No, we can’t.’
There was something about the physical contact that broke me. I looked over at Jean imploringly. ‘Please,’ I sobbed quietly at him, ‘don’t do this to me. You’re really going to hurt me. Please don’t hurt me like this.’
‘Why would we hurt you, Shira?’
I sniffed and blinked away some tears. ‘This is just a little head game for you two. It’s not for me.’
That was it; I was raw and hanging out all over the Elbow Room. I felt Sebastian settle his sharp chin on my shoulder and mouth something to Jean.
‘Yeah. Good idea,’ said Jean. ‘This is a dumb place to do this. Let’s go home.’
We walked back to Jean’s apartment. The air was dry and crisp and spitefully cold. No one said anything at all, we just walked arm in arm. Walking that way with two people is easy, but not with three; somehow everyone has to synchronize or you get a lot of jolting. It reminded me of the sex the night before.
Jean’s apartment might have gotten a feature in Casa Vogue, but you couldn’t exactly call it warm. It was far too sparse and clinical to be cosy. The smell of gutted candles still stained the air. I was shivering quite badly by the time we got there and didn’t want to be parted with my coat. In fact, I thought – rather melodramatically – that I might be going into shock.
‘It’s not that cold in here, Shira. I’ve got the heating on full blast,’ said Jean, looking concerned.
‘I know, I know – I’m just cold,’ I stammered. ‘I’ll warm up in a sec, don’t worry.’
He put a cool hand to my forehead. ‘You have a fever, I think.’
‘Seriously, no I don’t. I’ll be fine.’
‘Sebastian, sweetie, run a bath, will you? And get her into it,’ he instructed, matron-like. How many mothers can one girl have?
‘I’m fine.’
‘No you’re not, Shira. I’ll get the brandy. Brandy cures everything.’ He walked into the kitchen calling out, ‘And a spliff cures everything that brandy misses.’
I sat on the edge of the couch hugging myself. I just couldn’t stop shivering. I thought maybe it was my body rebelling against all the emotional danger I was getting myself into.
Sebastian walked into the living room and pulled me to my feet. ‘Come on, Shira. It’s family bath-time.’ He sounded exactly like an insane game-show host.
It couldn’t have been that warm in the ap
artment because the bathroom was a world of swirling mist. Jean had the bathroom of your dreams – big and black, with one of those big wedge-shaped corner tubs. I had attended him often while he soaked of an evening, preparing to go out, usually as the person who fetched the wine.
I climbed out of my clothes with some help from Sebastian. It seemed stupid to be shy about it, but still I was. He said something over the roar of the water but I couldn’t hear him. All of a sudden, the thought of being fully immersed in boiling water seemed very appealing. I climbed in, wincing at the temperature and closed my eyes. The extreme heat first pricked and then numbed the nerve endings on the surface of my skin, making it tingle and buzz. This was, I remembered hazily, how people got chilblains, but I couldn’t work up the energy to give a shit.
When I opened my eyes, it was to see Sebastian, fully naked, turning off the tap. He climbed in next to me and wedged himself against the corner of the tub. His long legs tangled in mine. It was a big tub, but not that big.
‘Come here, Shira. You have to sit between my legs.’
‘Why?’ I eyed him warily.
‘Because otherwise there won’t be any room for Jean.’ He grabbed me and hauled me into place between his legs, pulling me back until I was lying against his chest. ‘And he’s the man with the goodies, so we want to make sure he can fit.’ He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me snug against him. I closed my eyes again and allowed the warmth to sink into my bones.
Suddenly a thought struck me and, despite my drowsy haze, the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to explain a whole lot. ‘Am I here because Jean won’t let you fuck him?’
‘No.’
‘No.’
The response was clipped and almost synchronous. Jean stepped into the water, bottle of Cognac in one hand and a very large, lit joint in the other.
‘Spread your legs, honey,’ said Jean.
I would have done it myself if Sebastian hadn’t hooked his feet around my ankles and done it for me. Jean settled down in front of me, his legs on either side. Now the tub seemed practically claustrophobic.
I gazed, heavy lidded at my friend. Was he that? My friend who I adored? So exotic with his kohl-lined, arctic-blue eyes and finely arched brows. Jean was master of the scalpel-edged quip and the mot juste, but there was always something distressing and deeply human nestling just below the surface. A brutal sort of pacifist, he had infinite time and patience for certain people, but others he exiled to some distant, non-intersecting dimension. Somewhere inside him there was a set of rules carved in granite. They weren’t like anyone else’s and he never enumerated them. But they were there, all the same.
Jean passed the joint to Sebastian and took a swig of the brandy before offering me the bottle. I took it by the neck with a shaky hand and raised it to my lips. The liquid was warm lava snaking down my throat, melting the ice as it descended. I passed it back to Sebastian without turning and, by way of a trade, was presented with the joint. I sucked on it and passed it on to Jean.
Reality slipped comically sideways, which wasn’t, strictly speaking, a bad thing.
‘Can we continue with our discussion at breakfast?’ Sebastian’s voice rumbled against my spine.
‘Yes, let’s do,’ said Jean.
I nodded and caught the brandy on its way around. ‘Sure.’
Jean’s hand skated along my thigh in the water. It was an interesting touch. Kind of like a lover, kind of sisterly. Odd. ‘We would like you to . . . join the family,’ said Jean, a tinge of humour in his voice. It was his turn to quote vintage movie lines today.
‘Why?’ It was a curt question, but I wasn’t feeling clever enough to dream up something wittier.
Jean shifted towards me; the water sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the tub. ‘Shit, Sebastian, move forward a bit.’
Sebastian, being the right size, just picked me up and moved me, along with himself. I heard water spatter to the tiles.
‘I’m trying to pledge my troth – or whatever – and you’re sporting a very creepy grin. It makes it difficult,’ said Jean.
I hadn’t realized I was smiling at all. I tried my best to relax my facial muscle, but that only made it worse. ‘Then you shouldn’t have gotten me stoned first!’ I snickered and draped my arms around his neck. He was beautiful, my lovely Jean, so beautiful. Perhaps a little out of focus, but what did I care?
‘I adore you, Shira. You are my best, best friend. Isn’t that good enough? I love you.’
I gazed at him, then tilted my head to see if any of this made more sense on an angle. There was a more artful way of saying it, but I couldn’t muster it. ‘Uh, you’re the one who told me that vaginas scared you to death. You don’t like pussy, Jean, admit it.’
‘But I love the rest of you. And the pussy well – I’ll just have to adjust to it.’ He shrugged and then shook his head, dismissing some thought or other. ‘You know how unfamiliar things freak people out,’ he said, primly.
I thought for moment, threading my wet fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. ‘You love Sebastian. I knew it the moment I first saw you two together. I think you were meant for each other. What about him?’ Squirming around a little, I craned my neck to look at his lover.
He must have mistaken the look I gave him or the tone of my voice because he reacted like someone had accused him of a crime. ‘Hey, I like pussy!’
‘No, no. I mean how do you feel about all this?’
‘I feel fine about it. I’m not going to say I love you. That would be a bit reckless and premature. Don’t you think? But I like you.’ He kissed my forehead. ‘And you are, please take this the right way, exceptionally fuckable.’
‘Thanks, I think.’
Jean cocked his head and levelled his gaze at mine. ‘So that just leaves us with you, Shirakins. What do you think?’ Beneath the water, he gave my thigh a prompting squeeze. ‘Come on. Do tell.’
I scootched closer to Jean until I could cross my ankles behind him. ‘Stop groping my leg. I can’t think when you do.’
‘Don’t think at all,’ whispered Sebastian from behind me.
That’s when, after months and months of wanting to, I pulled Jean’s face to mine and kissed him. It felt nothing like I thought it would feel. My heart raced, I couldn’t breathe, and his lips were sinfully divine. Soft and hard all at the same time, they twitched and opened beneath mine and I sank into his gorgeous mouth. I searched out his tongue and sucked it back into me, stroking it with my own. I kissed him and kissed him for all the months I had dreamed of doing it. Nothing I had dreamed was as good as that. I caught his hair in my hand and wouldn’t let him go.
I felt Sebastian’s hands cross around and cup my tits; his lips grazed the back of my neck, pushing my hair away with his chin and going for the skin beneath it. I sighed into Jean’s mouth and reached between us to graze my fingers over his nipples beneath the waterline. He shuddered and sighed. It was the inadvertent brushing of the back of my arm against the tip of his cock that made me smile wide and break the kiss. I moved my hand and encircled his very, very definite erection.
‘Thank God,’ I panted, looking at Jean. ‘I was so worried you didn’t like me that way.’
‘Me too,’ said Jean, a faint tremble in his voice. Then he laughed it away. ‘I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to feel.’
‘Would it be possible to move this conversation to the bed?’ said Sebastian. ‘I’m wrinkling up in here.’
CHAPTER THREE:
GEOGRAPHIES
The bedroom was freezing. Even wrapped in a big towel, I dashed to the bed and jumped into it, towel and all. Until then, I hadn’t truly understood the appeal of waterbeds. They’re heavy, prone to leaking and can make you feel seasick. But they also have a heating element to take the chill off the water. I snuggled into the warmth and groaned with relief.
Jean, the only responsible person in the group, brought the brandy in and dragged a quilt out of the closet as he passed it. I
t was matte black and enormous. Where does one find black quilts anyway? I imagined that somewhere there was a clutch of Amish women who had succumbed to the dark side and made a small fortune sewing quilts for the wicked.
I pushed back, snuggling into the hollow of Sebastian’s chest and pulled Jean against my front when he got in. It felt so nice, so amazingly cosy. Who needs comfy decor if you have an adequate number of bodies around you? I was smiling so hard my cheek muscles ached – all of a sudden insanely happy. You’d have thought, with two beautiful boys in a bed, it would have been that ‘gimme-gimme’ kind of happy, but it wasn’t; it was pure, blissed-out, epiphany sort of happy. Jean squirmed around to face me. I did try hard to shift the grin, but it just wouldn’t budge.
‘What a big smile you have, Miss Shira.’
‘The better to eat you with, Mister Jean,’ I whispered, rolling onto my back.
‘I told you she was too sweet to live,’ he said to Sebastian.
‘She is, isn’t she? Just too, too sweet. We’ll have to hurry up and corrupt her before she melts in the rain.’
It was a strange perspective. They were both propped up on their elbows, facing each other, with me in a valley between them.
‘Do you think we’ll go to hell for this?’ asked Jean, reaching over me to pull Sebastian’s face to his.
‘Corrupting youth? Oh, I certainly hope so.’
They kissed above me, very close to me. I could see their lips press together, their jaws move, the delicate tendons of their necks straining. More delicious still, I could feel their cocks, one at each hip, stiffening in the heat of the kiss. I trailed the backs of my hands up their chests and toyed with their respective nipples – one pierced, one not. Catching them between my fingers, I pressed and squeezed them and watched the reaction to it above me. Jean was very sensitive; I actually got a full body shiver out of him. Sebastian, on the other hand, was more stoic by far. I tugged at the little metal barbell and twisted it gently till he arched his back, pressing his chest into my hand and moaning into Jean’s mouth.
Beautiful Losers (Modern Erotic Classics) Page 3