The One That Is S-C-A-N-D-to the A-to the L-O-U-S
Fuck.
The word reverberated through my mind the entire drive to San Diego; even turning the music up so loud I could feel the bass thumping in my chest did nothing to drown out the curse as my brain repeated it. What really sucked about it was that there was actually a lot of stuff going on in my brain that I needed to think about and sort through; but I panicked, and so on top of all the original thoughts causing said panic, I now also had a choir of “fuck”s flying around, as well.
This was going to be the longest drive of my life.
I did the best I could to focus on the radio, the passing scenery, the multitude of out-of-state license plates. I sang to all kinds of music, recited my favorite poems, quoted Kevin Smith movies, and wrote what I hoped would one day be a successful Broadway musical. It was titled “Confessions of a Male Exotic Dancer”, and I was one-hundred percent positive Cade would be cast in the lead role.
When the gravel road of a backwoods junkyard/pawn shop began to crunch under my tires two hours later, I had to pat myself on the back for making it through half of my trip. The seller, a gentleman in his mid-forties with a rat tail and suspenders, and I made small talk while he plugged each of the signs up so I could ensure they were working. After I handed over five hundred-dollar bills, he helped me load the five neon signs into the bed of my truck, then clapped my shoulder and thanked me for my business.
The drive back was not nearly as productive or entertaining as the drive to San Diego was. Well, it wasn’t as entertaining, at least. My mind had finally calmed the internal Tourette’s outburst enough for cohesive and comprehensible thoughts to actually form. As much as I didn’t want to know the answers to the questions my psyche was finally asking, I knew they had to be answered eventually.
My mind did this weird ping-pong match through the whole drive back, contemplating really thinking about things or not. Eventually, I must have subconsciously decided it didn’t matter what the answers to the specific questions were, as they all had one thing in common: Taylor.
The thought of Taylor reminded me that things had been tense between us since the threesome. I realized I put a lot of strain on our relationship; the kisses we shared during the threesome had seriously screwed with my brain. I had never once thought of another man in that way, and yet when Taylor and I kissed–it had been as if I had never kissed anyone before. It terrified me and intrigued me at the same time.
The few additional sloppy, drunken kisses I had given him in the weeks since really only spoke to how confused I was, and probably only pissed him off. Actually, I was pretty sure he was pissed off, as he had been seriously distant lately. He rarely spoke to me, unless it was work-related, and, despite the outing to the movies, we hadn’t spent much time together recently.
On top of all of that, he completely snubbed me on my birthday. I know it’s kind of melodramatic, and I’m not one who requires a lot of attention or fussing when it comes to things like my birthday, but since college, Taylor has insisted on throwing me a party every single year. With each of my party protests, Taylor would recite a list of reasons to why I should let him put together a group of friends to celebrate my birth. Despite my job, I really did not like being the center of attention; even still, Taylor’s complete silence when it came to my birthday had been shocking, and–dare I say it–a little disappointing. So, my birthday had come and gone, and Taylor had barely acknowledged my existence.
I couldn’t say I blamed him. Things had been getting progressively weird and tense between us ever since the threesome, but finding out Taylor actually swung both ways kind of put me on the defensive. I had assumed that he was freaking out about my kissing him because he was disgusted by the advances; now I couldn’t help but think his distance had more to do with liking the kisses.
The thoughts had consumed me so much that I didn’t even realize I had arrived at the club. Ruby met me in the parking lot, and assisted me in unloading them into the club, which was oddly empty. “Ruby, where is everybody? I thought you were having that big Halloween bash tonight?”
“Oh, yeah–I decided to close the club tonight and move the party to my house. You guys have been working so hard the last few weeks, I figured you deserved a night off. Go change into your costume and let’s get going!” she smiled at me.
Sighing, I went to the ready room and changed into the costume I had pilfered from the storage room. I had meant to look at other costume options, but decided that sleep was more important to me. I had run to Wal Mart the night before and gotten an Afro wig and some big sunglasses in the shape of peace signs to complete the flower-child image, and I reluctantly walked out of the ready room five minutes later, doing my best disco moves.
Ruby started laughing, shaking her head, then ushered me out of the club and to the truck. We rode to her house in silence, and I was thankful she didn’t live too far away–it was starting to get a little awkward. Ruby had jumped out of the truck before I had even put it in park, exclaiming her need to use the bathroom, and rushed to her front door. I hurried behind her, but she had disappeared inside before I had even set foot onto her porch.
Chuckling, I pushed the front door open, and was greeted by a chorus of voices shouting “SURPRISE!” Someone blew into a noise maker, and confetti fell on my head. “Happy birthday!” came a single voice to my right. I looked up to see Taylor standing next to me, one hand on his hip and a piece of straw sticking out of his mouth. The straw was apparently supposed to sell his costume–a cowboy. While it was a valiant effort, with the boot-cut jeans and authentic matching cowboy boots and hat, the flannel with the sleeves cut off just made him look like a Chippendale without a costume budget.
“Seriously?” I asked, trying my best to keep my face straight.
“This is why I was spending so much time with Cade.” He motioned to the room, then turned back to me, coming closer and lowering his voice. “I want you to enjoy your party, Zac…but we need to talk about what’s been happening between us. After what happened in the kitchen the other day, I can’t…I can’t just pretend it isn’t happening anymore.”
Cade came up just then, handing me a beer and raising his own in toast. “Cheers, man. Happy birthday!”
Nodding my thanks, I took a huge gulp of the beer as someone put their arm around my shoulder. I looked over to see Eduardo. In his free hand was a tray with shot glasses on it. “Shots!” he happily declared.
With Taylor’s eyes burning at me, I obliged Eduardo’s request. I continued to oblige every request to drink presented to me over the course of the next hour or so; every time I said hello to someone else, I was offered a beverage of some kind. I threw back the shots and guzzled the beers, and eventually found myself laughing rather loudly at something Ruby had said to one of the other guests, my arm slung limply over her shoulder.
My laughing became uncontrollable, and my body began to move from side to side. “Whoa, there, Drunks McGee,” Ruby sighed, wrapping her arm around my waist to steady me. Let’s get you to the couch.”
“HO-kay,” I agreed, letting her guide me to the leather-upholstered seat. She set me down, offering to get me some water. I nodded, resting my head against the back of the couch.
A few minutes later, I felt the seat next to me sink a little. The movement was accompanied by a soft giggle and a finger poking me gently in the side. I groaned, opening one eye to see a petite girl dressed in a slutty Raggedy Ann costume, complete with painted-on freckles and yarn-hair wig. “You’re still alive!” she shouted, raising her arms above her head in triumph. “I was worried,” she continued, lowering her voice and her arms. “You looked a lil’ bit like you’d stopped breathing,” her speech was slow, not quite slurred, and she had an easy smile on her face.
I opened my other eye and lifted my head to get a better look at her. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t for the life of me place where I knew her from. I assumed the alcohol had fogged my memory a little, but then again, her breasts were popping out of the top of her apron-covered, skin-tight dress.
I was strangely aroused.
“Hey, wha’s your name?” I asked.
The girl cleared her throat, her smile turning up a little higher. “It’s Brenda,” she replied. “We met at the club,” she added.
“Oh,” I nodded, trying to think, but I still couldn’t place her. “Can I be honest with you, Bren’a?” she nodded, sliding closer to me on the couch. “I don’t remember you…but…damn, you look good. And I’m drunk. I am really drunk.”
“It’s OK. I’m drunk, too!”
“Oh, OK.” I patted her knee, my hand lingering against her flesh. Before I could pull away, Brenda placed her hand over mine and pulled it toward her chest. She placed my palm over her breast, pressing her body against me.
“Come with me,” she smiled, standing suddenly and dragging me to my feet. “I want to give you a birthday present!” I let her drag me through the house and up the stairs. “I have to be honest with you, too,” she said once we were locked in one of Ruby’s guest bedrooms. “I think you’ve got the perfect body and I want–no, need–you inside of me. Please bed me.”
I couldn’t help but giggle. “You want to have sex with me?”
Brenda nodded, a hopeful expression on her face. “I promise, you won’t be disappointed…” her voice trailed off as she pushed me up against the door. “I’ve watched movies,” she whispered, kissing my neck. “I know exactly what to do to get you off,” she continued, running her hand down my sides.
There was an undeniable tingle in my abdomen as her fingers danced their way under the fabric of my shirt to make contact with the flesh of my stomach. A low groan escaped my lips, and Brenda took that as a sign that I wasn’t going to stop her.
In all honesty, I didn’t think I wanted to stop her.
I let her work the button of my pants free and roll the waistband down. I was already hard when her hand circled around me, drawing my dick from the confines of the bell bottoms, and I unashamedly moaned loudly when I felt her tongue dance across my head.
Brenda kept her word, taking me entirely into her mouth without hesitation or obstacle. My fingers splayed across the back of her head, rhythmically pumping her up and down my length. A familiar tightening was beginning to build in my balls, the feeling of Brenda’s tongue along the underside of my cock causing me to breathe heavily, and suddenly, just as stars began to dance behind my eyelids, a picture materialized in my head.
In my mind, when I looked down at the person so hungrily attacking my dick, I didn’t see Brenda, in her whore-ish take on a childhood toy of a costume. No, I saw Taylor, clad in his homage to Brokeback Mountain, on his knees in front of me.
Fuck.