Georgia
I stare at the phone for so long that it actually stops ringing, but before I can even let out a breath, it begins to ring again. The same phone number with the same Georgia area code. That area code is burned into my memory after years of dialing it over and over again, making far too many long distance calls to Newnan, trying to keep up a long distance relationship when I barely even had a driver’s license.
It’s not Kate’s parents, though, unless they’ve changed their number. I have no clue who it is, so I have no choice but to answer it to find out. Taking a deep breath, because for some reason I’m scared of whatever lies on the other end of that phone, I picked it up and press the receiver to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Zac. Did I wake you up?”
It takes me a moment to realize the voice on the other end is Taylor. But he’s supposed to be in Florida. I pull the phone back and look at the screen again, just to be sure. Definitely a Georgia area code. I put the phone back up to my ear.
“Tay?”
“Last time I checked,” he replies. “Sorry, I know it’s an hour earlier there, but I wanted to call as soon as I got a chance.”
“What… why…” I stutter out, hearing all of his words correctly, but not getting any meaning out of them. “You’re in Georgia?”
“Yeah, I am,” he says, sighing a little. “Nat hasn’t felt good all week, so we cut the beach stay a little short. We’re back in Georgia at Matt’s house now.”
Oh. That makes sense. Sort of. Natalie is always one to whine and complain about the littlest little pain or sickness, especially when she’s pregnant. It’s like she just can’t let anyone forget the shape she’s in or who got her there, so every little thing is cause for her to remind us of the new little Hanson growing inside her. I don’t even know why she insisted on such a long trip to the beach in her condition; anyone could see that wasn’t going to end well for a hypochondriac like her.
I don’t say any of that to Tay, though. I couldn’t. It’s been years since I dared insult Natalie to his face. The last time I did, he bought her a ring and I learned my lesson.
“Are you guys going to stay there for a while?” I ask. It’s the most I dare to pry at all.
“A day or two. Hopefully she feels better tomorrow.”
I can definitely hear the strain and the tiredness in his voice, and I know I should say something else, but I don’t know have the words at all. I try to find something tactful or thoughtful or something to say, and I come up empty handed. Instead, I just ask, “So, why are you calling to tell me?”
If Tay hears how rude that sounds, he doesn’t comment on it. “Couldn’t get an answer at Mom and Dad’s. I was hoping you could pass along the message that we’re coming back early?”
It isn’t a question, but it is. He knows I’ll pass along the message because he’s asked, and only because he’s asked. I certainly wouldn’t do Natalie any sort of favor. It may be a little cruel, but it’s true and I think Taylor knows it.
It occurs to me that I should ask about Kate. That would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? I wonder if she and Natalie have met up yet to talk about how awful I am. They can never stay away from each other for long, and they both love to gossip, so I can’t help thinking that a strategic visit to Kate is part of Natalie’s plan in getting sick. I wouldn’t put it past her to be that devious. Again, though, I don’t know how to tactfully ask the questions I really want to ask.
“Have you guys seen Kate?” I ask. It isn’t exactly tactful, but it’ll do.
There’s a silence on the line like Taylor is trying to decide how to answer that question. That means he has seen Kate, and just isn’t sure what to say about it. There’s no way that can possibly be good.
“Natalie called her,” he finally says. “We haven’t seen her, but she’s coming over later with the kids.”
Well, that isn’t a very revealing answer. It really only leaves me with more questions, and not a single one that I actually want to ask. I sigh softly and shift my weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to say next.
Taylor sighs as well. “Look, if you don’t care, can you give Mom and Dad a call, or go over and check in on the kids and let them know about our change of plans?”
“Sure,” I reply. “I’ll go over there as soon as we – I mean, as soon as I get dressed.”
Damn. I hope he didn’t catch that little slip. It’s not like I haven’t been just as bad with Taylor, but it feels wrong to let him know about Carrick. Even if she is halfway across the country, I’m still cheating on my wife with him. It almost seems more serious to admit that he’s staying here with me than to admit the other things that happened before.
“Oh, well… take your time. I’m sure the kids are fine,” Taylor replies, his voice suddenly icy cold.
Yeah, he definitely caught my little slip. Should I ignore it and pretend I didn’t say it? Or should I try to apologize to him? Neither one seems like the right thing to do. Maybe there isn’t a right thing to do.
I can hear a female voice in the background, a little muffled like Taylor has his palm pressed over the phone. Natalie, I assume. A moment later, Taylor clears his throat.
“Umm, do you want me to pass any messages along to Kate?” He asks, and I’m sure he’s been told to ask. He doesn’t dislike her as intensely as I do Natalie, but that’s not the sort of question Taylor would think of on his own.
“Tell her…” I reply, trying to think of anything at all. It should be a lot easier to think of something to say to my own wife. “Tell her I miss the kids?”
“Okay. I’ll tell her.”
Whether or not he actually will tell her, I don’t know. I don’t really care. It’s such a pitiful message that I almost wish he would say nothing at all, or maybe make up something that makes me sound less like the world’s worst husband. I chew on my lip, trying to think of something else to say that won’t make me sound so horrible. I can hear voices in the background again, so maybe this torturous phone call is nearing an end.
“So, I’ll see you in a couple days, I guess,” Taylor says. “Thanks for passing along the message…”
“No problem. See you later.”
I’ve never been so happy to end a phone call with Taylor as I am now. I hang the phone up, letting out a sigh of relief. There was just something so forced about it, like we’re no longer capable of having a real conversation that goes past boring small talk. When did that happen? I guess it must be my fault. Like so many other things, I know what I’ve done but not how to fix it.
I’m not surprised at all to find, when I turn around, that Carrick has left the room. It couldn’t have been a very interesting or pleasant conversation to listen to, even just from my side. I don’t know where he might have gone, but I do know that I definitely need a shower, especially if I’m going to carry out my promise to Taylor. Once I’m clean, I can worry about finding Carrick. It’s not like there are that many places he can hide in my house, anyway.
As soon as I reach the top of the stairs, I hear the shower running and I know that I don’t need to search for Carrick at all. Considering everything else we’ve done, I don’t hesitate at all before pushing the bathroom door open and walking in. The cloudy glass of the shower doors obscures my view a little, but I can still make out his lean, long figure.
“Hey, Carrick,” I call out, raising my voice a little so that it carries over the pounding of the shower’s spray. “Don’t use all the hot water. I’ve got to shower, too, so I can go over to Mom and Dad’s.”
He slides the shower door back and peeks his head out, giving me a little smirk. “You could shower with me, if that you’re that worried about conserving water.”
I don’t know if he’s serious or not, but there’s no way I can turn down an offer like that. Without a word, I begin stripping, my t-shirt and boxers quickly falling to the floor. Carrick slides the shower door back a little more, then steps back underneath the water. I step into the steamy shower, pulling the door closed behind me. Carrick’s back is turned to me now, and I can’t help seizing the opportunity to stare a little while he rinses his hair.
He really is beautiful. I’ve never thought that about another guy, besides Taylor, but Taylor is practically a species of his own. Male or female, he would still be just as breathtakingly beautiful. There’s really nothing more manly about Carrick; in fact, they’re kind of similar in that tall, thin sort of way. And there’s just something magnetic about both of them.
That magnetic pull draws me closer to Carrick now, stepping behind him and pressing my body against his under the shower’s spray. He barely even jumps. Once again, he’s anticipated my every move. His hips move ever so slightly back against me, but the rest of him is focused on washing his hair like I’m not even there.
When he reaches for the washcloth, I decide to beat him to the punch. I grab the soap before he can, and lather my hands up with it. Carrick chuckles a little and the sound vibrates through my body. He’s not trying to stop me, though. I run my slippery hands over his chest, coating him with the vanilla scented suds. He leans back against me even more, and that’s just the encouragement that I need. I slide my hand down his chest, swirling a few suds through his happy trail as I make my way south.
“Zac…” he gasps out, his head falling back so that his hair tickles my face.
“Yeah?” I ask, affecting the most innocent tone of voice I can manage. I’m pretty pleased with myself, considering that my hand is only millimeters from his cock.
“Shouldn’t you… hurry up?” Carrick asks. “I mean, now that you’ve got plans for the day and everything…”
I can’t stop myself from giggling a little at the thought that Carrick is calling me a tease. That’s new. But if I’m a tease, that means he likes it. I let my hand slide down those last few millimeters until it’s wrapped firmly around his cock. There are still a few suds left, providing a little lubrication so that I can jack him easily and quickly – maybe not as quickly as he’d like, but I think he can just deal with that.
He seems to be dealing quite well, in fact, leaning back against me so hard that I’d worry we were going to topple over if I didn’t know I was far stronger than him. Or at least heavier. Either way, my feet are planted firmly on the shower floor and I’ve got one hand on Carrick’s hip just to be sure that he doesn’t fall while I bring him closer and closer to ecstasy.
I don’t even care how conceited that makes me sound. I know exactly the effect I’m having on Carrick; even if I didn’t, his little moans and the way his body’s going all limp would be pretty big hints. He’s close – really close – and I don’t feel like being such a tease anymore. I grasp his hips and spin him around, pinning him up against the tiled wall and falling to my knees in front of him. The shower floor hurts even more than the kitchen floor, but I still don’t care. All I care about is Carrick and how much I want him in my mouth.
I don’t even give him time to process what’s happening before I suck him into my mouth, my hand covering what little bit doesn’t fit. It doesn’t take long for me to find a rhythm that has Carrick moaning and pushing his hips forward to match me, and I can’t help taking my own dick into my hand and imitating that pace. The shower’s spray is getting a little colder against my back, but I hardly notice anything but the way Carrick tastes. With a low moan that echoes off the walls around us, he comes, and I lap up every drop. Something about the taste of it, or maybe the sound of that moan, sends me over the edge too, my own orgasm quickly washed from my hand and swirling down the drain.
My shaky legs barely allow me to stand, and by the time I finally make it to my feet, I’m not sure if I’m holding Carrick up or the other way around. I lay my head against his shoulder and he lets out a breathy chuckle.
“Why don’t we actually use this shower for its intended purpose now?” He asks.
I let out a laugh of my own. “If we must.”
“I do like you a little… dirty,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows on the last word. “But let’s get you clean now, okay?”
When he puts it that way, I can’t really find it in myself to argue. I wouldn’t mind staying pressed against the shower wall with him forever, but that’s far from practical. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I think I’ve indulged myself a little too much lately. But, as Carrick slowly begins to massage shampoo into my hair, I decide that a little more indulgence might not be so bad.