by Barbara Bell
Mick. It was Mick. Blusher Mick. Cute-Eyes Mick. Stupidly-big-dildo Mick. Doesn’t-know-which-lube-to-buy Mick.
Mick holding him, Mick sucking him, Mick groaning around him as if he couldn’t wait for what was going to happen next.
Like he would die if he didn’t get a taste of Joey’s come.
It was that thought that tipped Joey over the edge.
Joey bowed his head as everything that was him contracted in a short, vicious rigour of pleasure. Halfway through he tried to roll off but Mick came with him, mouth fixed on his cock, greedily swallowing.
Just the sight of that dragged another shudder of need out of Joey.
“Mick . . . fuck . . .”
Mick looked up, mouth smeared with spit and come, and grinned. A wild, primal grin. A victorious grin. The messiest, most disgusting, and most absolutely perfect grin Joey had ever seen. “You liked that.” It wasn’t really a question.
Joey huffed out a laugh. “Yeah . . .” It was all he could manage at the moment.
“I did it.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you did.”
Without another word, Mick crawled up his body and slumped down beside him. Joey put an arm around him, and there they lay, both barely dressed and barely breathing as the smell of sweat and sex swirled around them. After a while, Joey became aware of the sounds of the parade still streaming in the open window. Beyoncé was playing. Of course.
There was no way to tell how long they lay there.
It felt like hours.
It felt like no time at all.
A bubble of space, all their own, that existed apart from everything else.
Then it popped.
Mick sat up and started pulling his pants back up his hips. He smiled sheepishly when he saw Joey watching. “I, um, need to use the bathroom. Can I?”
“Oh.” Joey sat up and tucked himself away. “Yeah. Sure. Hold on a sec. There’s a toilet in the back. I’ll unlock it for you.”
They didn’t say anything as Joey got the bathroom key from behind the counter and led him through the back. He unlocked the bathroom door, made sure there was toilet paper and hand soap, and then stepped aside to let Mick pass.
“I’m the only guy that works here so put the toilet seat down or I’ll get in trouble.”
“We just had sex on the floor. You don’t think you’ll get in trouble for that?”
If Kate ever found out? Yeah. Big time. “It is a sex shop,” he said instead. “It probably happens a lot. Sure would explain why this place always smells so weird Monday mornings.”
Mick laughed softly and stepped forward, only to pause in the bathroom doorway and turn to Joey. He was still shirtless and the dim light did everything to accentuate the shape of his body. Slim and smooth except for a gentle smattering of body hair.
“So,” Mick said. “I don’t usually do that.”
“Sex in a sex shop? Believe it or not, it’s my first time too.”
Mick tilted his head. “Actually, I meant oral.”
“Could have fooled me.”
A blush and a smile. Two in one. “I just thought you should know,” Mick said and those eyes locked on to Joey. Those stupidly beautiful eyes. “I’m not usually so crazy.”
Joey didn’t know what to say to that. “Me neither. That was . . . something.”
Mick nodded. “Yeah. Something.”
They stood in silence for a moment, both waiting for the other to make the next move. Joey didn’t know what that move was. Mick didn’t seem to know either. Before they figured it out, the moment had passed.
“Um.” Mick bowed his head. “Yeah. Thanks for the toilet. I’ll be out in a bit.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Joey watched as Mick went into the bathroom. Once the door was closed, he realised how weird it was for him to stand there waiting and booked a hasty retreat back to the front part of the shop. At the window, he found the last of Kate’s not-awful beer and took a couple of quick swigs as he tried to jump-start his brain.
What the hell had just happened?
They’d had sex. Did that mean something? Did it mean something good or did it mean something bad? Did Mick’s boyfriend really not care? Was Mick using him to cheat on his boyfriend? Or was it all a lie? Did Mick like him?
Joey’s brain was still trying to process those questions when Mick came back. He leaned in the window beside him, close enough that their bare shoulders brushed.
Joey passed him the near-empty bottle. Mick accepted with a smile. And that smile . . . that was all it took to settle the thoughts starting to knock together in Joey’s mind. All the doubts, insecurities, and regrets. He smiled back.
A smile.
A goddamned smile.
That was all he had to go on. A smile, a few words exchanged after their inelegant fuck on the showroom floor, and a lingering look before they parted ways.
Hell. Why hadn’t Joey said something. Oh hey, that was amazing. I would really like to see you again sometime. Maybe we should grab a beer after work. That would have been enough. Enough to figure out whether or not Mick wanted to do this again. Enough to know whether or not Mick actually liked him or if he was just “the cute guy from the sex shop.”
And if Mick did like him, then it would have given him space to say the next, far more terrifying thing that needed to be said. So, about your boyfriend . . .? Mick’s response to that . . . well . . . that was the real question wasn’t it?
Joey rolled over, his free-from-the-roadside mattress squeaking and moaning with every movement. On the bedside table, he could see the time illuminated on the face of his Matrix-style digital clock: 4:43 a.m. Two minutes since he last looked.
Christ. He’d already spent all day worrying about what happened with Mick. Was he really going to spend all night doing it too? Apparently so because the second he closed his eyes again his brain was back on the other man.
Mick had told him his boyfriend didn’t care. What did that mean? Did it mean he didn’t care that Mick was sleeping with other men? Did it mean he didn’t care if Mick dated another man? Or was it just something Mick had told Joey to get him to do what he wanted?
Could Mick lie to him like that?
The answer was obvious. Yes.
He didn’t know Mick. Not really. He could count the number of times he’d seen the other man on one hand. For all he knew, Mick could be a liar. Mick could be a cheat. Mick could be using him for sex in the absence of his boyfriend.
But, the truth was, even if that were true, he couldn’t blame Mick. At least, not entirely.
Mick wasn’t single. Joey had known that from the first time they met. He’d known that when Mick had asked him out, he’d known that when Mick had kissed him, and he’d known it as he’d come in Mick’s hot wet mouth. It hadn’t mattered in the heat of the moment. Not as Mick had pulled him close and moaned around his girth. But it mattered now.
It mattered a lot more than Joey had ever imagined it would.
Will you look at that? Joey thought as he lay in bed, staring into the darkness of his room. You have a conscience after all. Or are you just afraid of being “the other guy”? The one he doesn’t want? The one he uses for sex? The one he wouldn’t be with if his boyfriend wasn’t far away?
He peeked at the clock again: 4:44 a.m.
It was going to be a long night.
Joey was late. Really late. How the hell was he late? He’d been watching the clock from midnight right up until seven in the morning. Then, somehow, he’d closed his eyes for a second after turning off his alarm and when he opened them again, it was almost eleven.
Cutie Pies opened at eleven.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck—”
He rolled out of bed, jammed on the first pair of pants he found, and thirty minutes later was running down Oxford Street. He dodged a cleaner still sweeping up the glitter from the Mardi Gras Parade, jumped over a garbage bin, and almost collided with a man stepping out from the tattoo parlour below Cutie Pies.
<
br /> “Hey, watch it.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He grabbed the door to Cutie Pies, yanked it open, and ran up the stairs two at a time. When he finally stepped into the shop, the clock above the counter showed a damning half past eleven. Below it, waiting with her arms crossed, was Kate.
“Kate,” he panted. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I don’t know what happened.”
She held up a hand. “It’s not important.”
“But I—”
“It was Mardi Gras weekend. I understand.”
Shocked, “You do?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded strange. Tense. “Mardi Gras can make us all do things which aren’t the best for our career.”
Joey’s heart dropped to his feet.
Kate knew. She knew he’d broken into the shop, that he’d drunk beer in the building, and that he’d had sex on the showroom floor. Joey didn’t know how she knew— He and Mick had spent almost an hour making sure everything was put back the way they’d found it—but she did. He could see it in her eyes. She knew.
“Joey!” Becca cried as she emerged from between the shelving. “How was Mardi Gras? Did you have fun?” A heavy wink.
His eyes flicked from Becca, who was carrying a large box, to Kate, leaning against the wall with a storm behind her eyes. Oh yeah. He was fired. He was so fired.
“It was . . . okay.”
“Just okay? Come on. Don’t be cute. How did it go with Mick? Did you make out?”
“I . . .” He licked his lips and glanced back at Kate. “A little.”
“‘A little’?” Becca’s grin was savagely victorious. “So it was a date.”
“I guess.” He needed to change the topic. Quickly. “Um. What have you got there?”
“Here?” Becca held up her box. “Oh you’re going to flip when you see this. It’s—”
“Joey,” Kate said sharply and stepped forward. A big step. The sort a soldier would make. “I need to talk to you, in private.”
He stared at her hopelessly for a few seconds before bowing his head in defeat. “Okay. I . . . Okay.”
Becca looked at them curiously, but didn’t say anything as Kate led Joey into the back room and gently closed the door. Then, knowing that wouldn’t be enough to stop Becca listening in, they continued into Kate’s office. It was a small Spartan room with a view of Oxford Street out a tiny and oddly high window.
Kate leaned against the desk and turned to him. “Do you know what this is about?” she asked without preamble.
He sucked in a slow deep breath and nodded. “Yeah.” His stomach was in knots. “Yeah, I do.”
“Good.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. Then they both spoke at once.
“Hey, Kate, I’m sorry I—”
“This isn’t how I planned to tell—”
They both stopped.
Kate frowned. “You’re sorry?”
He frowned too. “You want to tell me something?”
“Yes,” she said. “Regarding me and Becca.”
“You and . . .?” His eyes widened. Oh. He wasn’t in trouble. He wasn’t fired. She was just going to tell him about her affair with Becca.
She must have read the shock on his face, because she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I had assumed Becca had told you, but it seems I was mistaken. I suppose it was only a matter of time.” She took a deep breath and continued, her words clear and precise. This was obviously not something she wanted to say a second time. “Over the last week or two, Rebecca and I have . . . been engaged in some other activities outside of work. Some . . . romantic activities.”
“Oh.” He tried to sound shocked.
“It has not been a lot of time, but I think—” a flash of vulnerability so strange on Kate’s stern features “—I hope it is not just a passing affair. With that in mind, I need to ask a favour of you.”
A favour. That was what this was about. A favour. “Yeah?”
“She has stolen my glass sex toys.”
It took a moment for his brain to process and then understand that sentence. It took another moment for him to figure out what the hell he was going to say in response. “Okay. Um. I don’t know what you want me to do but—”
“That is what she has in the box out there. My old homemade glass sex toys.” Kate’s lips thinned, and a small pucker appeared between her brows. “We watched the parade on my TV, drank, and she asked about them. Remember we talked about them last week?”
“I remember,” Joey muttered.
“I showed them to her, and now she’s insisting that they’re amazing and that we have to sell them.”
“Well, they just might . . .”
“She also insisted my dark ale was amazing,” Kate said. “I tasted it. It was the worst batch I have ever made.”
“Your pale ale was good,” Joey said quickly, relieved for the tangent.
“Perhaps, but my dark ale was not,” Kate said, dragging the conversation right back to where it had been. “I didn’t put enough sugar in it. Not even close. It was, frankly, disgusting, yet she praised it to the moon and beyond.”
“Becca has odd tastes.”
“She lied,” Kate insisted. “To make me happy. And that is what she’s doing again. She has told me my glass sex toys are amazing. Amazing enough to sell. They are not. I know sex toys, and I know those are not good sex toys. I understand she is trying to do something nice and I don’t want to discourage that, but this is my business, and I can’t sell those here.” She fixed Joey with a firm look. “You need to tell her that.”
He gaped at her. “Me? Tell her?”
“Yes. Tell her you think the toys aren’t worth trying to sell.”
“Why me? Since when did either of you listen to me?”
“I have stated that I am unsure about this whole enterprise. If you should voice a negative opinion, then I could side with you and—”
“Stop,” Joey said, and by some freak occurrence Kate obeyed. “This is insane,” he told her, voice steadier than it had any right to be considering he was now lecturing his boss. “Becca doesn’t want to tell you your beer is bad because she’s afraid to hurt your feelings. You don’t want to tell Becca you don’t want to sell your glass dongs because you’re afraid of hurting her feelings.”
“Feelings? No. Other’s people’s vaginas? Maybe.”
“Talk,” he ploughed on. “Tell her that you don’t want to sell the glass stuff. Let her tell you the beer was bad. Or don’t. But, please, leave me out of it. I have enough stupid drama of my own without getting caught up in yours.” He turned towards the door feeling both powerful and terrified. He’d just yelled at his boss. He’d just yelled at Kate. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh God. He was doomed. He was so totally—
“Joey?”
He stopped, one hand on the door handle. “Yes?”
“What were you sorry for?”
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry?”
“Before I told you what this was about, you apologised,” Kate pressed. “You thought you were in trouble. Why?”
His mind raced, desperately searching for an excuse. “I . . . Well . . . You see . . .” All he could think of was Mick, the beer bottle, and their fast, frantic fuck on the showroom floor. All his crimes playing on repeat over and over in his head.
When Kate spoke again, her voice was low, a warning. “Joseph?”
Oh fuck. Full names. He needed to think of something now. But still all he could see was Mick. Mick drinking beer. Mick kissing him. Mick gazing up at him with dark intimate eyes as he’d stepped into the bathr— “I left the toilet seat up,” he said quickly.
“You left the toilet seat up?” Kate echoed.
“Yep.” She wouldn’t buy that would she? “I know it’s not a huge deal, but you took me in here and Becca has been chewing me out about it and I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I . . .” He closed his mouth before he could talk himself into another hole and peeked over his sho
ulder.
Kate was looking at him like she believed absolutely nothing of what he’d just said. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She just waited.
What could he say? I broke into your shop. I got drunk and waved hundreds of dollars’ worth of sex toys out the window. I had sex on your carpet, and it might have been the best sex of my life, but now I wish I hadn’t done it because I don’t know what the deal is with him. He has a boyfriend. He said it didn’t matter, but I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know what to think. “I—I—”
“I don’t want to know,” she said. “Do I?”
Numbly he shook his head.
“Then shut up.” She waved her hand at him. “And get to work.” A brief moment of hesitation. “I will tell Becca I’m not comfortable selling my glass toys. Okay?”
“Yep,” he practically squeaked. “So okay.” He pushed open the door, intent on making a quick escape.
Kate called his name one more time. “Joey.”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever it is you’ve done . . . don’t do it again.”
He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and abruptly left the office. He didn’t acknowledge Becca as he walked back into the shop. He just carried his backpack to the counter, stuffed it into the bottom drawer, and breathed. He’d done it. He’d survived.
He’d had sex with Mick at work, and no one was punishing him for it.
He was relieved. But, for a reason he couldn’t explain, he was also annoyed.
Why? He should be happy. He should be dancing around the counter and singing his thanks to every god he’d ever heard of. But instead he felt cheated.
It didn’t make sense. He didn’t want to be fired. If he lost this job, he would have nothing. No Becca, no Kate, no way to keep living alone in the city. But, despite that, some small part of him had wanted Kate to know. He’d wanted her to acknowledge what had happened and punish him because that meant the short strange moment he’d shared with Mick was real.
Something that existed beyond just the two of them.
“You okay?”
He looked up, met eyes with Becca, and looked back down with a nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”