Title: A Man Who Lies, or I Read It In a Fortune
Cookie
Author/pseudonym: Tinnean
Fandom: Cactus Flower
Pairing: Igor Sullivan (Rick Lenz)/Julian Winston
(Walter Matthau)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine. This belongs to
Status: new/complete
Date: 5/2003
Series/Sequel: This is a companion piece to Madly,
Wildly, Desperately.
Summary: Igor Sullivan has come to the Big Apple to
become a playwright. He finds something, some… one he'd rather do more.
Warnings: m/m, implied m/f, implied f/f, major
spoilers for the movie
Notes: Many thanks to Tim for allowing me to pick his
brains regarding etiquette in the Baths. This one's for him, and the young man who
wore English Leather. J
Thanks also to Gail for finding out about the sheets, for the handholding and
for the comprehensive beta. I could never have done it without you!
A Man Who Lies,
or I Read It In a Fortune Cookie
Part 1
I tapped on the door of my father's study, and he looked up
from the case file he was working on and removed his glasses, observing the
dress clothes I still had on. Graduation had been a few hours earlier, and Yale
Class of 1962 was history.
And then he smiled. "Have I told you how very proud
you've made your mother and me?"
"Thanks." I could
feel the heat in my cheeks. How long would they feel that way if they
knew the truth about me? "Um… would it be all right if I… Could I speak
with you for a minute, Dad?"
"Certainly, Igor." He put the papers aside and
waited as I entered and shut the door behind me. His eyebrow rose.
"This is just between the two of us, all right?"
I waited until he nodded. "Okay, Dad, here it is. Mom is dropping hints
about me getting married and starting a family, but I'm not even seeing
anyone!"
"You mean you're not seeing any girl."
"Excuse me?" I felt myself become as pale as I'd
previously been flushed. I had thought I'd concealed my true orientation
successfully by going out with any number of girls, although none of them for
more than a date or two.
"Sit down, son." He looked sad. "I'm aware
you haven't dated a girl seriously since your junior year in high school."
"Yes, I have," I lied.
"'Seriously,' I said. You've dated many, to keep you
safe from one."
"That sounds like a quote from a play, Dad. I know it
isn't Shakespeare. Miller? Inge? Williams? Which one is it?"
His eyes crinkled in the smile that told me I wasn't going
to get away with trying to change the subject.
"How did you…?"
"I may be your father, but that doesn't mean I was
born in the stone age. Just between the two of us," he echoed my words back
at me, "and this goes no further than this room, please. I know the ruses
and excuses used by young men of your bent."
I managed to sit down before I fell down. "How,
Dad?"
"Oh, not because I swung that way, Igor, but my best
friend when I was your age did, and I saw the torment he went through, first to
prevent his family from learning he was gay, and then when they did and disowned
him." He rose and crossed to the sideboard, and poured us both a drink.
"Your mother has no idea that there are men and women who prefer the
company of their own sex." He smiled wryly. "Her parents kept her
extremely sheltered. I don't know how she would react if she ever realized
that." He handed me a scotch.
"What should I do? I can't marry some girl from the
country club, not even for Mom. I really can't, Dad!"
"No, I wouldn't ask that of you. You're going to have
to leave home, son." He raised his hand to forestall my protest. "You
aren't being banished."
"Then why does it feel like that?"
He came to me and hugged me. "You'll be welcome here
whenever you choose to return for a visit. But a visit is all it can ever be, do
you understand?"
I felt as if there was a gaping hole in my chest where my
heart had been ripped out, although I knew he was right. If I stayed in
He tugged on his lower lip. "Suppose we tell her that
you've decided to see something of the world?"
"That's fine for the time being, but I can't spend the
rest of my life traveling from one country to another."
"Well, then, there's your degree in Fine Arts that
cost us so much. That sheepskin should be good for something," he teased,
but he quickly sobered. "Eventually, I
imagine, you're going to want to put it to use?"
"Become a playwright, you mean?"
"If that's what you'd like."
"And after a while, I could move to
"That sounds like a good idea. You'd only be a train
ride away from home. I'll send you a check every month. Will a thousand be
enough?"
It was more than most men made in a couple of months.
"Dad…"
"I won't have you living in a tenement, Igor."
I surrendered, although I knew I hadn't put up much of a
fight. "Thanks, Dad."
****
I'd seen the world. I'd seen the country. And now I was
ready to settle in
I snapped open the city edition of the Daily News to the
Apartments For Rent page, and matched the address that I had circled on the page
with the address on the building. Yes, this was it.
Eight steps led to the front door, which opened on a small
lobby. Twelve mailboxes butted
neatly against one wall in three rows of four. On the box labeled 1A was the
name D. Jackson.
I pressed the bell and waited. No one answered, and I
peered through the glass panes of the inner door, but a gauzy white curtain
obscured the interior. The doorknob, when I tried it, turned easily.
"Hello?" I called as I took a few steps into the
dim corridor. I heard a clang from the apartment on my left. "Is anyone
around?"
"Motherfucker!" There was a loud bang of metal on metal, followed by even louder cursing. "Shitpissfuck!"
I shifted uncomfortably. No one in the town I'd grown up in
used language like that. Suddenly the door to 1B flew open, and a compact man in
a pair of faded
His gaze raked over me. "Yeah?" He had a wrench
in his left hand and he was vigorously shaking his right. Bright spatters of
blood rained onto the floor. "Fuck!"
"I'm looking for Douglas Jackson?"
"That'd be me."
"Mr. Jackson, I called earlier about the apartment
you're renting? I'm Igor Sullivan." I automatically extended my hand.
"Call me Doug. Mr. Jackson is my old man. Sorry I
can't shake your hand. I think I busted a knuckle," he groused
good-naturedly. "Lemme just wash up, and I'll take you up to 3D. You may as
well come with me. No need to hang around in the vestibule."
Doug opened a door on the other side of the hall, and I
followed him through it. "All the apartments in this building have
basically the same layout. The ones on the left side," he jerked a thumb
over his shoulder to the apartment he'd just left, "are studios, and the
ones on the right are one bedroom. What can I tell ya? It's a small
building."
He reached back over his shoulders and yanked his tee shirt
off. I observed the sculpted muscles of his back. They tapered down to a narrow
waist and hips that begged to be held in a bruising grip as he was taken.
My dick twitched. //Not this one,// I told the Little
Playwright. //As edible as he looks, we don't want to get involved! Trust me on
this!//
"You say something?"
"No." I gave him my most charming smile, knowing
that even if he was as gay as Liberace, I still wouldn't take him to bed. I had
learned the hard way, when I was living in
"Okay." He disappeared into the bathroom.
I tried to distract myself by studying the combination
living/dining room, but it seemed to be furnished in early Salvation Army. I
shuddered and turned away from the overstuffed sofa and the table covered with
cigarette burns. "So… er… what is 3D?"
The water had been turned on, and a steady stream of curses
came from the bathroom. "Son of a bitch,
that stings!" He came back out, drying his hands with a towel that had
pinkish smudges on it. "Sorry, whadja say?"
"Is the apartment that's for rent a studio or one
bedroom?"
"It's a studio. Here, do me a favor and put this
Band-Aid on for me, wouldja?"
I stared at his chest. It was covered with a dense pelt of
dark curls that were made to be carded through inquisitive fingers. I swallowed
and dropped my gaze to his knuckles, and swallowed again. The worst was oozing
blood again, and I began to feel faint. Somehow I managed to get the bandage out
of the wrapper and on his injury without disgracing myself.
"Thanks…" He
went into what I assumed was his bedroom, and when he returned, he was tugging
on a clean white tee shirt. "…what did you say your name was?"
"Sullivan. Igor Sullivan."
"Well, thanks, Igor Sullivan. Okay, c'mon, it's this
way." There was no elevator. He led me to a staircase that hugged the far
walls, circling around to the top floor, and we began to climb. "I may as
well let you know what's allowed, just so's you don't fall in love with the
place and then decide you can't live by the house rules."
"That sounds logical. What are they?"
He ticked them off the hand that had uninjured fingers.
"No pets. No loud music after 10. You want company to stay over, fine, as
long as you keep the noise level down." He gave me the once over. "I
don't care if your company is male or female. I'm a pretty relaxed kind of guy;
what you do behind that closed door is your own business. But the cops come
once, just once, and your ass is
out the door. That's it. Got it?"
"Yes."
"Good. Okay, this is 3D." He unlocked the door
and let me walk in ahead of him. "Utilities are included, gas, water, and
electricity. I get first month's rent in advance, and a month's rent for
security."
It wasn't a bad-sized apartment as studios went. In one
corner was the kitchen, with a small stove and refrigerator and a rust-stained
sink. A curtained space revealed a shallow pantry. In the other corner was the
rest of the apartment. There was enough room for either a single bed, a small
table and maybe a dresser, or a double bed. I'd have to choose what I wanted
more.
There were two doors. I opened one to find a bathroom that
contained a commode and a shower stall. The other door revealed a minuscule
closet with a shelf for sheets and towels.
"That window over there," the landlord was
pointing to the one opposite the front door, "gives you access to the fire
escape. You just have to climb out and swing a leg over." He watched as I
crossed the scuffed wooden floor to examine the bookshelves that had been built
into the sill just below the rear windows. I ran my hand over the smooth-grained
wood, then looked through the windows, down on the teeny-tiny back yard, three
stories below. "That shed down there is for storage, and I don't charge
extra for that, but it is on a first come, first served basis. The tree next to
it is a fig tree, and everyone is welcome to the fruit." He gave me a few
minutes as I continued to explore. "Well, what do you think?"
"I think I'll take it." Those bookshelves had
sold me. I pulled out my checkbook. "When can I move in?"
"Whenever you're ready." He took the check,
folded it in half, and stuck it in his pocket. "About your neighbors.
Across the hall in 3A are Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. He works security at night at the
Met; she's a housewife. There are two brothers in 3C, Joe and Pat Schutt. They
teach school over at St. Francis Xavier on
"Thanks for filling me in, Doug." We shook hands.
"My pleasure, Sullivan. Well, I need to finish fixin'
Mrs. Martini's bathroom pipes." He gave me the key and went back down the
stairs, whistling a jaunty tune.
I looked around the apartment again. It wouldn't take long
to make the move. My parents would be happy to learn I was finally settling in
Meanwhile, my landlord might be off limits to me, but I
could still see what
****
A few weeks after I took up residence in the apartment in
I'd sort of seen him once. He'd been coming up the stairs,
while I'd been going out to pick up a six pack and a pack of cigarettes. The
staircase had been too dark to see his face clearly, but he was wearing a navy
blue suit and carried an overcoat over his arm. I could make out the vest
beneath his jacket, which was hanging casually open, and my dick got interested.
I'd always been a sucker for a man in a vest. As I passed him I caught the scent
of his aftershave, British Sterling, and beneath it a hint of something else,
and my dick got hard. I came to a dead standstill.
Sometimes I thought my sense of smell was direct-wired to
my dick.
"Shoot!" I muttered just loudly enough for him to
hear if he was listening, and patted my pockets. "I can't believe I forgot
my wallet! Is that dumb or what?" I turned around to go back to the third
floor, and he didn't seem to realize I was right behind him.
His ass! My god, that sweet, sweet curve that was obscured
by the cut of his jacket! My mouth went dry, and I watched avidly, hoping the
jacket would move enough for me to get a clear view of it. I stared the entire
way up to 3, my fingers itching to reach out and touch what was under the
material of his trousers.
Whoever he was, he was oblivious to me. He crossed to 3B
and knocked on the door, humming something vaguely operatic. "Toni,
darling," he called.
Locks were twisted, deadbolts were thrown, the key was
turned. I caught sight of the blonde who flung open the door and threw herself
joyously into his arms.
"Darling!" she squealed and dragged him into her
apartment, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. They were broad shoulders. And
that vest… "You were able to get away!" The door was kicked shut.
I let myself into my apartment, yanked off my jacket and
tossed it in the general direction of the closet. There was no need for me to
press my ear to the common wall that Toni Simmons and I shared; it was so thin I
was often able to hear her as she sang along with her radio while she prepared
dinner, or while she spoke on the
phone. Now I felt that if I stretched my ears the least little bit, I'd be able
to hear the sound of her palms sliding down his back, maybe even reaching
between them to fondle his erection.
Although it was early winter, a drop of sweat trickled
between my shoulder blades. I laid myself out on the bed, and unzipped my pants
and took out my dick. I wanted the man in the front apartment.
I couldn't have him; he was straight and in love with the
woman in 3B. But I could have my fantasies, and the sounds of their passion
burrowed into my mind. I closed my eyes, licked my palm, and began to jerk off
with long, slow strokes. I pictured his hands on me, a thumb pressing down hard
on the slit at the tip of my dick, gathering the drops of pre come, while the
fingers of his other hand pinched and squeezed my nipples. My breath was coming
in harsh pants as I imagined him rolling my balls and sliding a lubricated
finger past the ring of muscle that guarded my hole. It was my own finger that
found my prostate and tormented it unmercifully, pumping in and out, rubbing it,
rubbing it, until I came with a muffled yowl.
Abrupt silence fell on the apartment next-door. "What
was that?"
Those damned thin walls! I held my breath until I heard
Toni giggle, "Must be the Siamese in 3A. That cat is a sex fiend!"
Masculine laughter joined hers, and I laughed softly myself
at the thought of being mistaken for a horny feline. And then
groans and whimpers and bedsprings squeaking started again, building to a
crescendo. Cries of satisfaction dropped to sleepy murmurs.
I blew out a breath, aroused in spite of the fact that I'd
just had a pleasurable orgasm. "Looks like we've got someone new to
fantasize over, Big Guy," I whispered to my dick. "What say we take a
quick shower and get you cleaned up? Think that will give you enough time to
recover?" My dick quivered in happy agreement, and we went into the
bathroom. I washed away the come that had splattered over my groin and chest,
and dried myself off, then slid naked between the sheets.
I woke up early the next afternoon, and that started my new
routine, working during the night and sleeping during the day.
Toni's boyfriend was over at least three nights a week, and
on those nights both my neighbor and I had great sex, although my 'date' was
just with my hand.
I tried to find out more about him, but aside from the fact
that he was a dentist, no one knew anything else. Even Mrs. Wilson, the building
gossip who was guaranteed to have the buzz on everyone who lived here, didn't
know his name.
Toni was playing it really close to the vest, but that was
okay; he was ours.
****
I'd been working on what I laughingly called 'my play' for
six months. For every page I wrote that I was pleased with, at least a couple of
dozen would wind up in the trash, and I was beginning to think I'd never get
past the first act. After all, what did I know about the kind of guys who hung
out in a blue collar bar?
It was almost three in the morning. I banged away at the
typewriter keys, then took a deep drag on my cigarette. I knocked the line of
ash off, and balanced it on the ashtray. As smoke dribbled out of my nostrils, I
stared at the dialogue on the page.
Junkie: (sweating and shaking) I'm cool, man! I'm cool!
Bartender: (brandishing a shotgun that he keeps behind the
bar) If you don't get out of here, you're gonna be air conditioned!
No, that wasn't how I wanted my male lead to phrase it. I
tore the page out of the typewriter, balled it up, and lobbed it into the
wastebasket. None of this was working the way I wanted, and I was drawing a
complete blank.
I swung my feet up onto the corner of the desk, stacked my
hands behind my head, and contemplated the ceiling.
Something else was bothering me. It had been almost a week
since Toni's boyfriend had come by, and earlier I'd heard her muttering to
herself and sniffling. I wondered if the bastard was cheating on us.
I reached for my cigarette, to find it had burned down
almost to the filter. The crumpled package of Marlboros was beside the ashtray,
and although I knew it was empty, I tore off the top and peered into it anyway.
"Damn." I'd have to go down to the all-night deli
around the corner and get another pack. Good thing Ben, the proprietor, had
decided it was worth while to keep it open during the night.
I had a pocketful of change. It didn't much matter if I
forgot my key. The lock was so ancient that all I needed to do was pull the door
toward me and smack it about six inches above the keyhole, and I was able to get
back in. I shut the door behind me and sauntered toward the stairs.
An acrid odor brought me up short, and I sniffed curiously.
It smelled as if someone… I sniffed again, locating the source, Toni Simmons'
apartment. Had she forgotten to shut off her gas? I went to her door and tapped
on it. "Hello? Is everything okay in there?" I rattled the doorknob
and knocked again, harder this time. There was still no response. I pressed my
ear to the door but could hear nothing, and the odor seemed stronger.
I bolted back into my apartment, threw open the window and
stared at the space that separated it from the fire escape. I swallowed, then
climbed out and swung a leg over the railing. I didn't look down.
Gaily patterned curtains covered Toni's window, but they
were parted, and I was able to see her lying on her bed, face down. The National
Anthem played on the radio as the station signed off for the night. I tried to
open her window, but it was locked, so I backed up a step, raised my size
fourteen foot, and shattered the glass.
The smell of gas came flooding out of the studio apartment.
I reached in and slid the catch to the side, and managed to get the window up.
Inside, covering my nose and mouth with my hand, I ran to the front window. In a
matter of seconds, I had it raised. Then I shut off the burners on the stove and
struggled with the locks on her door. One deadbolt. Another deadbolt. A hook and
eye, a slip-lock, and finally the key. I turned the knob and threw the door
open, then raced back to the body on the bed.
Pressing my cheek to her back, I could feel the faint rise.
I flipped her over, tipped her head back. "Breathe, Toni!" I gulped a
breath and fitted my lips over hers, blowing oxygen into her lungs.
"Breathe, goddamn it!"
Languidly her arms came around my neck, and her mouth
softened beneath mine. "Julian," she whispered against my lips.
"Julian!"
So that was his name. I rolled it around in my mind, liking
it. But I still had to make sure my neighbor was all right. "Toni…"
I may as well have held my breath. She sighed voluptuously.
"Kiss me, Julian."
I'd rather have kissed Julian myself. "I'm not
Julian."
Her eyes opened. "You're not Julian. Why are you
kissing me?"
"I wasn't kissing you; I was giving you mouth to mouth
resuscitation. You left your gas on." I rose to my feet.
"What?" She rolled over and stared at the oven
door as if it would explain the situation. "Oh, no! I blew it! I blew
it!" Abruptly she sat up. "Who're you?"
"I'm Igor Sullivan. I live in 3D." The radio was
emitting white noise. I found it and shut it off.
"You're the writer? You're the writer! You keep me up
all night pounding on that typewriter. You make me crazy!"
"Sorry. I didn't realize it was disturbing you."
I should have. If I could hear her and… Julian… "Next time, just bang
on the wall and I'll stop. By the way, you went about it all wrong, you know.
You're supposed to stick your head in the oven."
She scowled at me and flopped back on the bed. "It's a
second-hand stove. It didn't come with directions."
"Good thing. You want to tell me why you tried to kill
yourself?"
"Julian." She murmured his name, as if that
explained the whole thing.
I frowned. "He doesn't beat you, does he?" She
shook her head back and forth on a pillow. I hadn't heard anything that would
make me think so, but something had driven her to this point. "Does he
drink? Do drugs? Cheat on you?"
"Worse than that."
What could be worse than… "Oh, he's married!"
I'd been involved with married men, but they'd come to me to get what their
wives couldn't give them, a hard cock up their ass, and it had been strictly
physical, at least on my part. "Maybe he'll divorce her?"
Her expression was forlorn. "He's got children! I knew
this going in. He was honest with me from the very beginning. I hate when people
lie to me, Igor. They've been doing that to me all my life. My mom never told me
my real dad had taken off before I was born, and that the man I thought was my
father was really my stepfather. And then there's all the guys I dated in high
school. They'd be seeing other girls on the side, and would lie about it!"
She ground her teeth. "I really hate lies!"
"I can see that."
"Anyway, I thought we'd have a gay, carefree fling.
And then I went and fell in love with him!" She sat up and tucked her legs
under her. His picture was by the bed. She took it and cradled it in her arms.
"I don't understand. If you've known all along that he
was married, what drove you over the edge tonight?"
"He broke another date with me." Her lower lip
quivered. "The others didn't matter so much, but this was our anniversary.
We met a year ago today… yesterday… at Stereo Heaven. That's where I work.
He's been breaking more and more dates, lately."
I was aware of that. "How come?"
"He says
it's to meet with colleagues. Last night it was supposed to be an Australian
dentist. But I know it's really to be with his wife."
"So you decided to end it, by… ending it?"
"Yes." Toni brushed the hair out of her eyes.
"How come I'm telling you all this?"
"I have a very sympathetic face. And I don't lie to
women, I promise."
"You remind me of someone." Her brow wrinkled in
concentration as she studied my face. "I'd swear I've seen your face
before."
I'd heard that more than once. Although I'd
never seen the resemblance, I had an aunt who insisted I looked like a young
Jimmy Stewart. "Probably passing on the stair," I assured her easily.
"Oh, yeah, that must be it. Well, I knew you had to be
a nice guy, Igor. Generally I'm a good judge of character." Her lips tilted
in a sweet smile. It froze, and she smacked herself in the head. "Oh, no! I
sent him a letter!" She dropped the picture on the bed, jumped up and
grabbed a man's overcoat, obviously Julian's, from her closet. "I have to
get it back!"
I blocked the door. "How do you plan to do that? With
string and chewing gum? Toni, you've already broken the law by attempting
suicide. You don't want to mess with the Federal government!"
Her shoulders slumped. "You're right." She hung
the coat back up and shivered. "Where's that draft coming from?"
"The windows. Watch the back one; I had to break it to
get in, and there must be glass all over the floor."
"Well, shoot. I can't have a broken window, Igor.
It'll be getting warmer soon, and I'll be invaded by bugs! Ugh! I'll have to get
Doug Jackson to fix it."
"Listen, Toni. People get strange when they hear you
tried to kill yourself. Let's keep this just between the two of us, okay? I'll
replace the window for you in the morning. You can sleep in my apartment if it's
too cold in here for you. I promise I won't try anything."
"That's okay, my comforter will keep me warm enough.
And why won't you try anything? Aren't I pretty enough?" She picked up her
lover's picture and gazed at it helplessly.
"Toni, you're adorable. You're just not my type."
I took the picture from her and placed it on the table.
"What, you like them tall, dark and busty?" She
tossed the throw pillows off her bed.
I grinned at her. She had two out of the three. "You
could say that. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Toni was muttering to herself as she climbed into bed.
"I've got to get up for work in a few hours… I'll look like a dishrag…
I know I'll have a headache, lack of sleep always does that to me…The heck
with it, I'll take the day off. What?"
"I said, is there anything else I can do for
you?"
"You're so sweet, Igor. How come you don't have a
girlfriend?" Apparently it was a rhetorical question, because she didn't
wait for a response, which was a good thing. Most people didn't react well if
they learned I was happier with a boyfriend. "Um… Call Julian tomorrow
and tell him I'm not dead? Even though he's broken my heart, I wouldn't want him
to worry like that."
"Aw, that's nice."
"Besides, he might call the cops." She pulled up
her blankets.
That was my neighbor, nothing if not practical. I closed
the front window. "What's his number?"
"He's in the book. Julian Winston, DDS. 5th Avenue."
"All right. Goodnight, Toni."
She smiled, and in spite of what she had tried to do, there
was a hint of mischief to it. "Good morning, Igor."
Part 2
I returned to my apartment after rescuing Toni Simmons from
her suicide attempt, even less in the mood to write than I had been before I'd
run out of cigarettes, so I decided to go to bed early. It was a little after
My dreams were restless. I'd be kissing the dentist, my
hand on his dick, making him gasp and moan, and just when I'd be about to spin
him around and slide into him, the amorphous figure of his wife would appear. He
would saunter away with her, with a torrid, backward glance toward me. I woke, a
sweaty mess, tangled in the sheets and blankets.
I pushed the hair off my forehead and managed to crack open
an eye to see what time it was. The clock on the small stand that fit beside the
bed was reading the ungodly hour of
I rolled out of bed and hit the cold linoleum of the floor.
My toes curled in protest, and I hopped from one foot to the other until I could
get my slippers on. I rubbed my head vigorously to jump-start the old brain
cells, visited the bathroom, and, finally, filled the stainless steel coffee pot
my mother had given me when she'd come for a visit.
While the coffee was perking merrily, I thumbed through the
I dialed the number, and a perky female voice chirruped in
my ear. "Dr. Winston's office. How may I help you?"
"I'd like to speak with Dr. Winston, please."
"If this is in reference to making an appointment,
I'll be able to do that for you."
"Um… no. I just need to…"
"Then I'm afraid you'll have to call back later. The
doctor is not in right now."
Before I could get another word in, she hung up, and the
dial tone hummed in my ear.
"Well, shoot." I took a shower, poured myself a
cup of coffee, and called again, figuring enough time had passed for the dentist
to have gotten in.
"Dr. Winston's office. How may I help you?"
"Is the doctor in yet? My name is Igor Sullivan, and I
really need to…"
"The doctor is with a patient just now. If this is in
reference to making an appointment…"
It was rude, but I interrupted her. "It's not
about making an appointment. I have to speak with the doctor."
"Well, then, I suggest you call back later." And
she hung up on me again.
I growled at the receiver, slammed the phone down, and took
an incautious gulp of my coffee. "Son of a bitch! " I sucked in air, hoping to cool the burn I had just
inflicted on my mouth.
With exaggerated care, I set the cup down and dialed for
what I promised myself would be the last time. Then I'd go uptown to his office,
tell Julian Winston face to face, and wrap the phone cord around that
insufferably cheerful woman's neck.
"Dr. Winston's office."
"Listen, just tell the tooth jockey that Toni is
alive."
"Wh…"
But this time I hung up on her. I started singing, "The
only one who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man…'" as
I samba'd over to the closet to get a pair of corduroy trousers and a shirt, and
then to the bed. I had wound up selecting a captain's bed, which was almost as
wide as a double, but instead of a frame, it sat on a platform that contained
built-in storage compartments.
I knelt down to open a drawer and pulled out shorts, socks
and undershirt, then began to dress, planning what I would need to get in order
to repair the damage I had done the night before.
Toni's window had the same measurements as mine, so I'd go
to a hardware store over on
It was a pleasure to be out of doors this beautiful spring
day. The winter just behind us had been miserable, with one of the worst
snowstorms in a decade shutting down the five boroughs. I was pretty sure the
mayor would lose the upcoming election over it.
I strolled through the streets, taking my time. The trees
that grew along the curbs had sprouted their pale, yellow-green leaves. The air
carried the scent of spring, and I inhaled deeply, relishing it. It wouldn't be
long before exhaust fumes from buses and taxis, and steam rising from the subway
grates would become overpowering, and spring would be just a sweet memory.
The hardware store had just opened, and while the manager
cut the pane of glass to the measurements I'd given him, I browsed through the
aisles, finding a can of caulking, a spackling tool, and a few other things I'd
had no idea I needed.
I chatted with the manager for a while, getting his advice
on how to place the glass, and then started home, a paper bag in one hand, and
the pane cushioned in cardboard under my other arm.
By the time I got back, it was a quarter of
"Igor! You need another pack of Marlboros already?
Man, the way you go through cigarettes, you oughta buy stock in Philip
Morris!" He grinned and flipped the knishes he'd been frying.
"Not this time, Ben." I displayed the still-full
soft-pack. "I only smoke when I'm working." I'd gotten up to three and
a half packs a night. Not healthy. If I didn't overcome my writer's block soon,
my lungs would look worse than an Appalachian coal miner's. "I'm here for
some lunch."
"Sure thing. You just beat out the crowd, y'know. What
can I do you for?" He wiped his hands on the white apron that was fastened
around his substantial waist.
"Let me have a pastrami on rye. On second thought,
better make that two." I wasn't sure if Toni was awake, and I didn't know
if she had any food in her apartment, but I didn't think she'd want to go
grocery shopping after the night she'd had.
"You got it." He put the pastrami in the meat
slicer and began to shave off long strips. Then he put them on the griddle, and
as I listened to them sizzle, he got out the seeded Jewish rye.
"Mustard?"
"Ben, I may be a WASP from
"Just testing. What else you want with this?"
"A dill pickle, please." I went to the
refrigerated case and took out a couple of bottles of Coke.
Ben sliced the pickle into four lengthwise strips and
wrapped them in waxed paper, then did the same for the sandwiches he put
together. My mouth started to water as the smell of the mustard mingled with the
pastrami. I took out my wallet and paid him.
"You gonna be able to get all this home?"
"Oh, yeah!" I moved things around in the bag from
the hardware store, put the sodas on the bottom, and stuffed everything on top.
After I put away my change, I
gathered the bag in my arm again, Ben slid the pane of glass under my other arm,
and hurried to open the door for me. "Thanks, Ben. See you."
"Bye, Igor."
Mrs. Wilson was just coming out of our building when I
arrived there. She was a plump, matronly woman who always dressed in floral
outfits that seemed to add thirty pounds to her diminutive frame. Her shoes had
three inch heels, and it never failed to amaze me that she managed to stay
upright. She had her Siamese cat, Wang Chung, on a leash. He looked bored.
"Igor, how nice to see you! Let me get the door for
you."
"Thanks, Mrs. W."
Her eyes glittered. "Toni's young man is here. Well,
he really isn't young, is he?" She leaned close to me, and I could
smell the stuff she used in her hair to lacquer it in place. "This is the
first time anyone has seen him, you know. There's something a little odd about
that, don't you think, Igor?"
Julian was here? He never came in the daytime, not that I
was aware of. "I never gave it much thought. I have to go before I drop all
this. Have a good day, Mrs. Wilson."
"Oh, but your mail…"
The inner door shut behind me, and I was able to pretend I
hadn't heard her. Otherwise she'd forget what errands needed to be run in the
all-encompassing sport of gossiping. If that ever became an Olympic event, she
would take the gold. I bounded up the stairs. There would be time to pick up my
mail later.
By the time I reached the third floor I was panting, only
partly from the gallop up the stairs. Because my hands were full, I kicked
lightly at Toni's door, and she opened it almost immediately. "Hi,
Igor." She was barefoot, wearing jeans and a man-tailored shirt knotted at
her waist, a potato chip in one hand.
"Hi, Toni. I brought some lunch." I pretended I
didn't see the man standing by the front window. "We can eat first, and
then I'll fix the window. You really shouldn't be going around without shoes on;
you don't want to get glass splinters in your feet." I leaned the pane of
glass against the wall and put the bag on her little table.
She glanced from me to her lover and back, then made the
introductions. "Igor, this is Julian."
"Hello, Julian." I was finally able to see him in
the light, and my voice was sultry in spite of myself. Julian Winston was a bit
taller than my six feet, and broader through the shoulders as well. He was very
nicely built, confirming what I had seen that night on the stairs. His hair was
sable, tipped with pure white at the temples, and his eyes were the color of
aged sherry. I always loved that shade in eyes. A ring of gold surrounded the
brown, emphasizing the darker flecks of gold that were scattered throughout the
iris. His face was craggy, and he had a beak of a nose.
I inhaled British Sterling and felt my knees go weak. If
only he weren't straight!
"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.
"Igor's my neighbor." Toni picked up a brown bag,
walked stiff-legged back to her lover, and thrust it into his arms. "I was
just telling Julian we're through, Igor."
Julian stared down into bag, dismay on his face. "We
can't be through! We're so happy together!"
I could see the frame that held his picture jutting over
the top of the bag.
"You're
so happy!" She sniffed and gazed at a spot just beyond his right shoulder.
"I'm tired of sharing. I want
a man of my own."
I bit back a snort of laughter. I could have said the same
thing, but I behaved and didn't. "What's he doing here anyway?"
She hunched a shoulder, looking put out. "I told him
there was no need for him to come running over."
"I guess he didn't get my message," I mused as I
took the sandwiches from my bag.
"What message?" he demanded.
"That Toni wasn't dead. Get some plates, okay,
Toni?"
"What… what do you mean? She really…?"
"Tried to kill herself? Yeah, she did. Want half my
sandwich, Julian? It's pastrami. I'm willing to share my Coke, too." I gave
him an innocent smile.
"I don't want any pastrami, and I don't want to share
your Coke."
"I'm sure Julian has things to do, like have lunch
with his wife," Toni sniped. She unwrapped her sandwich and placed the two
halves on her plate. "He was just leaving, Igor."
"No, I wasn't! And I really resent you two talking
about me as if I weren't in the room!"
She ignored him. "Ooo! Kosher dills! I love them!
Thanks, Igor."
"How does he know you love Kosher pickles, Toni?"
"Lucky guess?" I offered. I picked up a spear and
bit off the end.
His eyes narrowed. I made a production of licking the
pickle, and the glare he sent my way was scorching. "What are you doing
here, anyway?"
"He's going to fix my window, Julian. He had to break
it to get into my apartment last night."
"You really tried to kill yourself, darling? I'm such
a bastard!" He turned from her to me and barked impatiently, "Listen,
you…whoever you are…"
"I'm Igor. Remember?"
"Get out of here! I need to talk to my girl in
private."
I told myself to stop teasing him. "Toni?"
"Oh, all right." She sounded a sulky sixteen.
"You can go, Igor. Julian and I do have some things to discuss."
"Okay." I shrugged. "Knock on my door when
you're ready for me to fix the window. It was nice meeting you, Julian." I
held out my hand, and he automatically accepted it.
His eyes widened, and I wondered if he'd felt that same
little zing when our palms had touched. He would have been perfect for me, I
thought regretfully. I took my sandwich and soda, gave him a little smile and
left. Toni could share hers with him if she chose; after all, he was her
boyfriend.
Once I was back in my
apartment, I leaned my ear against the wall, but I couldn't hear anything above
the low murmur of their voices.
My stomach rumbled, reminding me it hadn't had anything
substantial since the night before, and I unwrapped my sandwich, popped the
bottle cap on my Coke, and sat down to eat.
****
There was a tap on my door, and when I opened it Toni stood
there, dressed in a casual outfit of hot pants and a Nehru jacket. She looked
cute, like a
"You're not breaking up, I take it?"
"No."
"Listen, do you realize he's old enough to be your
father?"
"Only if my father got my mother pregnant when he was
fourteen!" Her lower lip thrust out in a pout. "I know how old Julian
is, and if it doesn't matter to me that he's thirty-five, then it's no one
else's business."
"Okay, okay." I wasn't about to tell her that Julian Winston was lying through his teeth about his age; there was no way he could be thirty-five. If I judged correctly, he was at least ten years older. "I just hope you know what you're doing."
She peered at me from under her ridiculously long lashes.
"He's asked me to marry him, Igor."
That pulled me up short. "You don't seem too
excited."
"Well, there's still his wife. I need to be sure she's
okay with the divorce. Look, I have to go. Here's my spare key. I really
appreciate you taking care of the window. I'll give you the money for the glass
as soon as I get paid."
"My pleasure, Toni, and don't worry about paying me
back. There's no rush."
"Thanks, you're a sweetie. I'll see you. Julian is
waiting."
I glanced toward the stairs where her lover stood. His eyes
were intent on me, almost as if he were trying to see what I looked like under
my clothes. "Have a…" I swallowed and licked my lips. "… a
good time."
I closed the door and leaned against it. My dick was
pushing insistently against my fly. I gave it a hard rub, tempted to take it out
and jerk off, but if I wanted to get any writing done that evening, I'd have to
see to Toni's window.
****
Our landlord most likely would have completed the job in
half an hour, but Toni and I had agreed that the fewer people to know the reason
behind the broken window, the better.
I never was the most handy of men, and by the time I finished replacing the pane of glass, darkness had fallen.
As I went back to my own apartment, the Schutt brothers
were leaving theirs. They nodded to me, then returned to arguing about which
movie they wanted to see.
"The Wild Bunch."
"Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. The Wild Bunch is
too violent!"
"Well, I don't want to watch Paul Newman and Robert
Redford make goo goo eyes at each other for almost two hours!"
"All right, then, how about that Ingmar Bergman
retrospective?"
"You know I think he's too pretentious!"
"There's just no pleasing you, Pat! We'll go see The
Computer Wore Tennis Shoes…" Their voices faded as they went down the
stairs.
I could hear the television playing in the
I was sweaty and grubby, and… hungry for someone in my
bed. And I had no desire to write, so I took a shower and splashed on some
English Leather.
It was Masquerade Night at the Baths, and I packed a small
bag with my costume, which consisted of a mask, a gun belt, cowboy boots, and a
white Stetson. Then I took a cab up
to
I might be a fool to lust after a straight man, but there
were plenty of gay men who wanted me.
I paid the $25 dollars to get in and went
to the vending machines, got a supply of KY, and then changed.
Some of the men wore full face masks; Batman was a popular
choice, as were Butch and Sundance. There was even a Nixon and a Kissinger, and
I made a mental note to avoid them. I opted for the kind of mask that the Long
Ranger favored, only mine was made of black silk. The white Stetson was tipped
back on my head, and black boots minus spurs were on my feet. The towel I wore
was held in place by the gun belt, the holsters riding low on my hips,
framing my sex. They carried, not six-shooters, but the KY, and I knew I looked
good. I sauntered through the halls, blasé and cocksure.
I noticed someone with a mask similar to mine staring at
me. Instead of a towel he wore a breechcloth decorated with beads and fringe,
and leather moccasins that lovingly encased his calves. A feathered headdress
flowed down his back. Heat pooled in my groin as I imagined the feel of those
feathers on my body. I took a step toward him, but a pudgy man dressed in an
Elizabethan doublet and a hat with a curled foxtail touched his arm, and the
'Indian' turned away to speak to him. The movement caused his feathers to ripple
in a fall of color and texture. I shrugged. There were plenty of others to
choose from. I strolled in the other direction, intending to see if there was
any action by the pool.
A warm body pressed up behind me, and I could feel a dick
nudging the crevice of my ass. Hands came around to stroke over my torso, and I
swallowed a moan as my nipples were pinched. "You're smooth," he
whispered. "I like that."
I turned my head. It was the Indian. My eyes dropped to
study his chest. "You're not." Hair covered his chest, arrowing down
in a slim line to vanish beneath his breechcloth. "I like that." I also liked that he was wearing British
Sterling.
The feathers of his headdress grazed over my nipples,
teasing them to diamond-hard points of sensation, and I shuddered. "You're
mine for the night, kemo sabe."
"You think so, Tonto?"
He reached under my towel and stroked my dick with his
fingertips. It had been half hard, and now it swelled, in full agreement with
his, "I know so." His low laugh tickled my ear. "Come on."
He led me to one of the small rooms, which was dimly lit, and once we were
inside, I lost my towel very quickly. With languid,
indolent fingers, I unbuckled my gun belt. I plucked out a tube of KY as it fell
to the floor, and his eyes glittered through his mask. "A quick draw! I'm
impressed!"
I grinned at my companion before I tossed it to him. My
dick was hard against my belly, and I let my fingertips dance over the shaft
before I leaned back against a wall, my groin thrust forward, posing for him.
"Now what, Tonto?" I reached for the ties of my own mask. "Want
me to take it off?"
"No," he whispered. "Let's keep the masks
on."
"Okay." It would make it easier for me to
fantasize that it was Julian having me.
"Now that we have that out of the way, kemo sabe, on
the bed, on your hands and knees," he ordered, still in a whisper, and I
shivered and straightened away from the wall, and obeyed him.
His palms were soft. This was not a man who did manual
labor. They grazed over my buttocks and down the line of my thighs to the backs
of my knees. While the fingers of one hand toyed with the join of hip and thigh,
the fingers of the other traced the crack of my ass. He must have opened the
tube of KY, because his fingertip slid easily across my puckered anus, dipping
in a bit before ghosting over the skin behind my balls.
"Down." He pushed steadily on my shoulders until
I folded my arms and rested my head on them, leaving my hips high in the air.
"Yes." The bed dipped as he climbed up, and a slicked finger teased
into me.
"You don't have to baby me." I spread my legs as
wide as I could and rocked back to take more of him. "I'm not made of
glass!"
"All right." His low voice sounded strained, and
there was a pause. I glanced around to see him coating his dick with the gel,
and smiled and lowered my head once more, anticipating his next move.
Blunt and hard, his dick pushed against me, demanding
entrance. I pushed back, and the crown popped through the ring of muscle. He was
big, and he stretched my passage. The friction, the burning sensation were just
what I'd been looking for, just what I needed. And then I was impaled on his
dick, possessed by him, his balls
flush against my ass.
His first strokes were tentative, tantalizing, as he
searched for my prostate. Once he knew from my breathless moan that he'd found
the right angle, there was no more hesitation. The hair that covered his chest
brushed repeatedly against my spine, and I was slowly driven crazy. I hadn't
been taken like this in… I couldn't remember how long.
My Indian pounded into me while his left hand played my
nipples like a virtuoso, squeezing, scraping, twisting.
His right hand… jesus god! He pulled back. "I can
see where we're joined, kemo sabe. You look good spitted on my dick." His
whisper had become hoarse. "Take a breath. I don't want to hurt you!"
"What…" And then I yelped as a finger slid into
me, and I was being fucked by his finger as well as his dick.
Filled. I'd never felt so filled. I forgot to think of
Julian. All that I could get past my lips were pants and groans and the demand
that he never stop.
"Stretch your arms out." He took his finger out
of me.
I did as he said, my cheek now directly on the sheet
beneath me, and his palm stroked
over the muscles of my arm until he came to my hand, and he lay on me, our
fingers entwined.
He pulled his dick almost all the way out, leaving only the
crown keeping me open, and then he slammed back into me. His hips moved faster
and faster. I shivered under him. He got his hand on my dick and smeared pre
come over my shaft, jerking me off in rhythm to the pounding of his dick in my
ass.
It was all over for me. I felt my balls draw up tight. Heat
engulfed my body, flowing into it from each extremity, and with a gasp I started
to come. I filled his hand, splattered semen on my chest, I even managed to get
some in my mouth, and I gave a huff of laughter.
My Indian wasn't done with me, though. I never knew a man
with his stamina. He squeezed the nerve at the base of his dick and he continued
to drive into me, and I just crouched there and let him have me.
Finally, though, he couldn't delay his climax any longer,
and his blood-hot semen flooded me, scalding, soothing my well-used back
passage. He sagged onto my back, his breath whistling in and out like a runaway
freight train.
"You okay, Tonto?"
"Give me a... a minute to catch... catch my
breath," he panted in a gravely whisper.
"No rush. Geez, you were amazing."
"You were pretty goddamn amazing yourself."
"Thanks. Listen, I'd like to see you again. Outside of
here."
"I don't think that would be a good idea." He
pulled out of me and got off the bed. I reached for him, but he was bending to
retrieve his breechcloth and didn't see. All I captured was a handful of
feathers. "I don't do this, not very often."
"Sure. I understand. Maybe some other time…"
But he was already gone.
I opened my hand and stared down into my palm at the
feathers, and I sighed.
Someone poked his head into the room. "Hello there, my
fellow American. I just have this to say about that: want to play?"
I smiled ruefully. "Sorry, Mr. President. I'm done for
the night."
I stood up and winced as muscles protested. The ache deep
in my ass would remind me of this night for some time. I wrapped the towel
around my waist, gathered up the pieces of my costume, and limped to where I'd
stored my clothes. It was time to go home.
****
A pounding on my door brought me out of a dream that was a
replay of the night before, where my dick was hard, and I was on the verge of a
very nice climax. "Shoot. Who's there?" I mumbled.
"Igor, it's Toni."
I swung my legs out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of my
eyes, and staggered to the door. "What time is it, for Pete's sake?"
Toni was wearing the little pink baby doll nightie she'd
had on the other night. "Good morning, Igor! It's
I groaned. She was so chipper, I wanted to puke.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to borrow a
razor."
"Huh?" I massaged my scalp.
"I have to work today, to make up for taking yesterday
off, but I need to shave my legs, and my last razor is so dull I'll cut them to
ribbons. Can I borrow yours?"
"Yeah, sure, but it's electric."
"That's okay."
"Okay. It's in the medicine chest. You mind getting it
yourself? I'm going back to bed. I had a late night."
Toni walked to the bathroom. "I wish I could say the
same." She came out with the shaver in her hand. "I insisted I wanted
to see Mrs. Winston."
"Yeah, I remember you said you wanted to be sure she
was all right with the divorce."
"Yes. Well, Julian kept hemming and hawing, and
finally he said he'd try to arrange something. He had to go back to work; he's
so dedicated to his patients; but we were supposed to have dinner and then go
dancing. I waited for him at
"I've been there. Good fettuccine Alfredo. They put
bacon and chicken in the sauce."
Her eyes lit up. "They have the best pasta!" She
quickly sobered. "Julian was running late, and when he showed up, he was
really… He was in such a strange mood. He said his wife was being difficult
about meeting me, and he was so upset because of it that he didn't have the
heart to go to The Slipped Disc. After we finished dinner, he brought me home,
and then he left. He didn't even stay the night."
"How rude." I yawned hugely. "Sorry, Toni, I
didn't have much sleep the last couple of nights."
"No, I'm
sorry. You go on back to bed. Thanks for the loan of the shaver, Igor. I'll get
it back to you tonight. Oh, and thanks for fixing my window. You did a great
job."
"Okay, Toni. That sounds good. Have a good day at
work." I shut the door behind her, fell into bed, but before I fell asleep,
I thought of Julian Winston, and the fact that he and my Indian both wore
British Sterling.
Part 3
I kissed Julian Winston.
I patted some pre-shave on my throat and cheeks, plugged in
my Remington electric shaver, and began running it over my jaw.
The picture played over and over in my mind, him standing
there in that navy blue suit with the white shirt and grey tie, and me in my
teal towel, watching his lips move as he berated me for being in his fiancée's
apartment, and then winding my fingers in that grey tie, reeling him in and
taking that mouth in a kiss I'd been dreaming of.
And the words chased after the images. //I kissed Julian
Winston!//
I paused and stood there with the shaver buzzing merrily
away, staring in the mirror, a smug smile on my face. "You saucy devil,
you!"
I kissed Julian Winston!
****
Saturday night I had sat on a pillow and banged out
twenty-five pages of dialogue, and not thrown a single one into the trash.
I woke up on Sunday, still feeling that ache deep in my
ass, and I was ready to slay dragons and rescue young men in distress.
A shower was in order. I stripped out of my pajamas and ran
a hand over my chin. The stubble teased my palm. But first I needed a shave.
I peered at my face in the bathroom mirror. I really
needed a shave. Toni had my shaver, and I'd have to get it back. I wrapped a
towel around my waist and was about to leave my apartment when I spotted the
piece of paper on the floor. Toni had slipped a note under my door.
'You didn't answer
the knock, and I have to run out for a little while. Thanks for the loan of your
shaver. I left it on the table in my apartment. You have my key. Get it whenever
you want. ~Toni~'
Now where had I left her key? I had to do one of those back
tracking things. //Okay, Igor, what did you do first?//
//Well, after I fixed Toni's window, I gathered up the can
of caulking, the spackling tool, and other assorted odds and ends, and left her
apartment. I locked her door, put the key in my pocket and…//
The pocket! I dug the corduroy trousers I'd worn on Friday
out of the hamper and fished through the pockets, finally finding the key in the
last one I searched.
Holding it in triumph, I poked my head out the door, making
sure the hallway was free of neighbors. At that time of day, however, no one was
around, and I hurried to Toni's door, unlocked it, and let myself into her
apartment.
The shaver was where she had said it would be, on the
little table. I picked it up and turned to leave just as there was a knock on
the door, and I froze. It wouldn't look good for a half-naked man, who was not
Toni's boyfriend, to answer her door.
"'A bravo
Figaro, bravo, bravisimo…'" A baritone voice was singing the song
from the opera, The Barber of Seville.
This was too good to resist. I opened the door. "Good
morning, Julian."
His jaw dropped. "Igor!" He remembered my name.
How nice. "What are you doing in my fiancée's apartment? In a…" he
swallowed, "… a towel?" He stared at the towel longer than was
strictly necessary, I thought.
"Toni borrowed my shaver, and I needed it back."
"You came here in a towel? You went out of your
apartment, across the hall in broad daylight, wearing that?"
"And a smile." I gave him an exasperated look.
"What, I should dress to shave?"
Julian suddenly appeared flustered, as if he had just
realized that I was naked under that towel. His lips parted, and his tongue slid
out to moisten them. "Why did she borrow your razor?" he asked
gruffly, abruptly changing the subject.
"Shaver." I dangled the cord before him. "So
she could shave?" I asked logically.
"I still don't see why she had to… Well, you have
your shaver, now go! There's no need for you to stay in my fiancée's apartment
any longer."
"You keep calling her that, but you aren't even
divorced yet. And you've lied to her, Julian."
He paled. "What do you mean? What are you talking
about? I never lied! If she assumed…" Alarm was in his voice.
"Julian." I took a step toward him. "You
lied like a rug." He sputtered, and I took another step closer.
"You…" I leaned forward, ran my nose along his cheek, and inhaled.
"are…" British
His upper body angled away from me, although his lower body
remained exactly where it was. "That is baloney! And it's none of your
business how old I am! Now I want you out of my fiancée's… out of Toni's
apartment, or I'll…"
I wrapped my hand around that elegant tie and pulled him up
against me. There was no way he could not feel my arousal. My other hand curved
around his neck, flexing in the hair that curled there, and I kissed him. It
started as chaste, nothing more that a light pressure of lips against lips, but
then his lips softened and seemed to cling to mine, and I lost my head and slid
my tongue into his mouth, stroking it along his tongue, tasting the cigarette he
had smoked, the coffee he had drunk.
"Ah, Julian, I'm better for you than Toni," I
murmured against his mouth.
"Are you?" His tone was dreamy.
"I can give you what you want."
"Can you?" He nuzzled the hinge of my jaw, and I
relaxed into the tiny caress. Abruptly, he pulled away from me. "What are
you talking about?" He'd become panic-stricken. "What are you doing? I
don't want anything from you!"
"No?" I wasn't going to let him off the hook so
easily. He'd kissed me back. He had. "Tell me something. Am I
circumcised?"
He stared down in dismay. His hand was under the towel, on
my dick, and his thumb was rubbing little circles across the crown. He snatched
his hand away as if it were burned. "I'd like to have you in my chair for
just five minutes!"
"Yes, Julian? And what would you like to do to
me?"
"I… You… We…"
And then the cavalry came to his rescue. Well, not exactly
the cavalry, but a fair representation. Toni walked in.
"Hi, Igor. Is that a new towel? Hello, Julian."
She was cool toward him.
"I just came to get my shaver, Toni."
"Yes, and now that he's got
it, he can go!"
"Why are you here, Julian?"
"Toni, darling, I want to take you out for brunch.
Then I thought we could spend the afternoon together, maybe go to the
Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art."
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Where
were you last night, Julian?"
He wasn't with Toni? I raised an eyebrow, and we both
waited to hear his response.
He turned bright red. "I… I was at home, of course.
We didn't have a date. Did we?"
"No, but I thought it might have interested you to
know that I met your wife yesterday, so I called to tell you. You didn't answer
your phone. I figured you were probably in the shower."
"Yes. Of course. I was taking a shower."
Sounded to me like he was jumping at an excuse.
"That must have been a very long shower. I'm surprised
you don't look like a prune today. I tried every twenty minutes for three
hours."
I'd never seen anyone splutter before. I'd heard of it
being done, I'd even written it in the stage directions, but I'd never seen it.
It was an interesting phenomenon. Julian couldn't get an intelligible word out.
Finally, Toni took pity on him.
"Don't lie, Julian. You were with Stephanie, weren't
you? Did she tell you we'd met? She came to Stereo Heaven yesterday."
Julian was now as pale as he'd been flushed before.
"She… What… Um… what did she say?"
"What did you expect her to say? She's willing to go
through with the divorce. It's for your sake, Julian. She still loves you."
"That's preposterous!"
This was better than one of those screwball comedies of the
30s that my mother loved. I leaned back against the table. They were so
distracted they had forgotten my presence in the room.
"No, it isn't! She talked about those sandwiches she
made for you, and…" Toni gazed off into space, and said so quietly I
didn't think Julian heard her, "I wish someone would make chicken and egg
salad sandwiches for me."
"Those damned sandwiches! How dare she bring them up?
The witch!"
"Julian! I'm shocked at you! She isn't a witch! She's
gracious and charming and very brave!" She turned away from her lover.
"And I can't take you away from her."
"Toni! Darling! That's nonsense! Er… you won't be
taking me away from her!"
"I won't?"
"No, sweetheart. You see, she's… uh…seeing
someone! She already has a boyfriend!"
"She does?" She blew out a breath. "That
makes me feel so much better, darling." Toni walked up to Julian and
tiptoed her fingers up and down the tie that was still wrinkled from my grip on
it. "I want to meet him."
Julian had been relaxing into her touch, a complaisant
smile on his face, until she said that. "You want to what?"
"Now, Julian, be reasonable. I want to make sure she
isn't with some low life just because she's on the rebound. And don't forget,
there're the children to consider also." She stared at his tie, suddenly
seeing the condition it was in. "Why don't you take this off, and I'll iron
it for you. I've never known you to wear a tie that was this wrinkled."
"Oh, I… you…we…Would you, dear?" he
finished weakly.
"I feel a draft," I remarked, bringing his
attention once more to the fact that I was clothed simply in a towel. "I'm
going home. I'll see you, Toni. Bye, Julian." He pointedly looked away.
She undid his tie and stripped it off, then pulled the
ironing board out of the wall. So that's what that little cupboard was.
"Bye, Igor. Thanks again for the shaver. Now, Julian, are you going to
arrange something so I can meet Stephanie's boyfriend?"
****
The phone was ringing when I stepped out of the shower. I
wrapped the towel around my waist and skidded across the floor to answer it,
leaving a trail of wet footprints behind me. Could it be Julian, calling to
compliment my legs? Could it be my Indian, interested enough to track down my
phone number? "Hello?"
It was my mother, calling to invite me home for a couple of
days.
We chatted for a few minutes, while I dripped puddles on
the floor. I agreed to catch the
She made kissy noises and said good-bye.
I went back into the bathroom and patted some pre-shave on
my throat and cheeks, plugged in my Remington electric shaver, and began running
it over my jaw. Instead of thinking of the upcoming visit with my parents, I had
something else on my mind.
I kissed Julian Winston. And he had kissed me back.
****
Why was it a train trip that only took an hour and a half
to
I got off in Penn Station and took a cab back to my
apartment.
Dad and I were going to have to have a sit down with Mom
real soon. I'd arrived home to find she was having a tea party. The tea was
actually an ambush. I was the only unattached male, and the majority of the
guests were single, attractive, and alas, female.
Still, her heart was in the right place, she was my mom,
and I loved her. And I'd have to get her a hostess gift.
I went to Stereo Heaven.
"Igor! Hi! I haven't heard your typewriter the last
couple of days."
"Hi, Toni. No, I was out of town. I guess I can't win.
I disturb you when I type; I disturb you when I don't type."
She giggled. "Say, can I read your play
sometime?"
"There's only the first act so far, but sure. I'll
bring it over later if you'd like."
"Far out! So. What can I do for you, sir?" she
asked, all business. Her manager was standing nearby, watching us.
"Do you have Callas in Aida?"
"Sure." She pulled over a ladder and climbed to
the upper shelf where it was displayed. "Want me to wrap that for
you?"
"Not just yet, I'd like to listen to it first."
"Certainly. The booths are over there." She waved
toward the rear of the store.
I went to one of the booths, closed the door, and put the
record on the spindle, then dropped the needle into the groove. Maria Callas'
lush soprano filled the small, glass-enclosed room. I glanced around and
happened to see Julian Winston walk in. He was carrying a long, shallow box.
Toni's face lit up, and she took him into a back room where I knew the stereo
equipment was kept. On days when I wanted to distract myself from how poorly my
play was coming along, I'd go there and play with the tweeters and woofers.
I cranked up the volume and leaned a hip against the table
the turntable was on. What I really wanted was Julian. And maybe my Indian.
Oh, hell, there was no sense moping about it. I put the
album back in its sleeve and went up to the counter to buy it for my mother. She
loved Aida, and she loved Maria Callas. I couldn't lose.
Toni and Julian had come out of the back room. Toni looked
a little disappointed, and Julian looked satisfied.
"Hi."
His expression darkened. "What do you mean by
that?" he snapped at me.
"I'm dressed this time," I said innocently.
"I'll see you tonight, darling," he said to Toni
and turned to leave. If I hadn't been staring after him I would have missed his
backward glance. His eyes seemed to be fastened on a spot below my waist, and I
looked down, wondering if he could see my arousal. And then he was gone.
I sighed and turned back to Toni. "What's in the
box?"
"Oh, Julian bought me a mink stole!" The name on
the cover of the box was of an exclusive furrier whose shop was on the Avenue of
the
"My Aunt Bertha has one just like it." The stole
was what an older woman would wear. A young woman like Toni would prefer…
"I really wanted black leather slacks."
That was what someone her age would want. I made
commiserating sounds, but my mind was on something else. If Julian didn't
realize that, maybe he wasn't as committed to the relationship as he claimed.
"Hey, Igor, I've got a great idea!" She pulled a
box toward her and removed the record album that had been within it. "I was
going to send Steph… Mrs. Winston this Horowitz album, but I'll send her the
stole instead!" Enthusiastically, she stuffed the mink into the box.
"I don't know, Toni. What makes you think she'll
accept something like that from you?"
"I'll put this in there too." She showed me the
appointment card. On the back was scrawled, 'As
ever, Julian.'
"Toni, do you really think this is a good idea?"
"Yes." Her voice became so soft I could barely
hear it. "She'll think it's from Julian, but I'll know it's really from
me."
Wait a second! What was that about?
"Oh, did you want the Callas, Igor?"
"Uh… yeah. Send it to this address, please?" I
gave her my parents' address in
****
I knew Toni had gotten home from work a few minutes
earlier. I was hoping if I waited a bit longer, Julian would be by to pick her
up for their … I swallowed as if I'd bitten into something sour… date.
Sure enough, within a quarter hour, I heard Julian humming
the Sextet from Lucia. I gave him a minute to get into her apartment, then
crossed the hall and knocked on her door, which was ajar. It swung open.
"Oh, sorry, Toni; I didn't realize Julian was
here," I lied. "I have my play for you. You can look at it whenever
you want, there's no rush."
"Thanks, Igor. Gee, you look kind of down."
"No, it's nothing…"
"Julian, let's take Igor to dinner. He's depressed and
needs to be cheered up."
I'd be whatever I had to be, if it got me dinner with the
sexy dentist. "The writing really hasn't been going well," I blithely
perjured myself, trying to look pathetic, and crossing my fingers behind my back
in hopes I didn't jinx myself.
Julian didn't believe my act. Well, I was a playwright, not
an actor. "I'm sure Igor has other things he'd rather be doing."
"Not if you're buying dinner."
"I don't think…"
"I'll just go put on a jacket and tie." I met his
eyes, thinking of that grey tie he'd worn on Sunday, and I knew he was thinking
of it also, and the kiss.
"Don't forget your love beads," he sniped.
"Now, Julian, be nice," Toni said.
I was back before they could miss me, looping the tie
around my neck and tying a Windsor knot. "So, where are we going to
eat?"
"Yes, Julian. Were are we going?"
"Well, I had thought our place, but ..."
"Great! I love
"Why aren't I surprised that you know
"Damned if I know," I said cheerfully, surprising
a reluctant smile from him.
"That was a rhetorical question, Igor."
"It's too close to dinner time for rhetorical, Julian.
I'm starved. Feed me." I started down the stairs.
"I know what I'd like to feed you."
I nearly stumbled at his softly spoken words. I stared back
at him in shock, but he was frowning, and I realized I must have misinterpreted
his tone of voice.
"Better watch your step, Igor. You wouldn't want to
fall and break anything important."
Toni looked from Julian to me. "What are you talking
about, Julian?"
"Nothing, dear. Let's go, shall we? We wouldn't want
Igor to waste away."
****
We were having after-dinner espresso. "Where would you
like to go dancing, Toni?" Julian asked.
"How about The Slipped Disc?" she suggested.
"After what happened last night, I don't think that's
a very good idea."
"Julian, after what happened last night, that's the
best place to go! There's no chance your wife will be there with her horrible
boyfriend." Toni shook her head. "I can't believe someone as smart as
she is could settle for such a yutz!"
"I beg your pardon?"
She blushed. "Well, he is, Julian. You can't tell me
he isn't cheating on Stephanie with that bimbo he tried to pass off as a
client's daughter!"
"'Sponsor's' daughter."
"Am I missing something?"
Julian ignored me. "I'm sure Harvey Greenfield is a
perfectly nice man."
"And why do you keep sticking up for him?" Toni
demanded, glowering at her lover. "Anyone would think he was your best
friend."
Julian looked suddenly uncomfortable. He cleared his
throat. "Well, darling, if the man is going to become stepfather to my
children, it's only right that we all try to get along."
"You'd better put your foot down and tell Stephanie
he's no good for her!"
"Toni, Stephanie is an adult woman. I have no right to
tell her who she should go out with."
Toni's mouth pursed as if she weren't happy to think of
Julian's wife with someone else. I signaled the waiter for the bill. They
continued to bicker and didn't notice. I glanced at the total, pulled out some
bills and handed them to the waiter. "Keep the change."
"Thank you, Mr. Sullivan!" he said effusively.
"He knows you?" Julian seemed surprised.
"I come here at least once a week. Would you like more
coffee?"
"Uh… no. I thought you were a starving
playwright."
I smiled.
"Let's go."
We walked out, and he handed the ticket stub to the valet
parking attendant. When his DeVille had been brought around, I got in the back,
and Toni rode in the front with Julian. Oh, well, at least I could study his
profile unobtrusively.
I was lost in a fantasy of having him under me on his back
seat, while we made out like teenagers, when he pulled up to the curb and turned
off the ignition. Toni got out of the car while Julian ran around to get her
door, and I heard him say, "I wish you'd wait for me to open the door for
you."
"Why? I'm perfectly capable of opening my own
door."
"Toni…"
I pushed the seat forward and climbed out, narrowly
avoiding a sign that read, No Parking on
Weekdays after
He spared a glimpse at the sign. "Igor, don't worry
about it. I know a cop in this precinct."
"Okay." I followed them into the discotheque, to
a small table on the far side of the dance floor. I glanced around, admiring the
way hips and groins were swaying, wondering if any of the young men gyrating to
an instrumental version of The Monkees' I'm a Believer might be inclined to pay
the Baths a visit.
"Come on, Julian, I want to dance! Igor, order me a
Seven and Seven, and Julian a gin and tonic?"
"Sure thing, Toni." But they were already on the
dance floor. I stood watching for a few seconds. Toni's body flowed with the
music, but Julian's wasn't as comfortable with the expansive movements.
A waiter approached me. "Can I get you
something?"
I gave him the order and sat down. Julian needed to dance
with someone who would show him how to do the moves. Someone who'd put a
steadying hand on his hip and caress it as I urged it first to the left, and
then to the right while our lower bodies brushed and we drove each other to the
heights of passion.
There was a heated flush in my cheeks. I could feel it. I
glanced up from the intriguing sight of Julian Winston shaking his tail
feathers, and met his eyes. Overcome by a wicked impulse, I slid down in my
seat, onto my spine, and unbuttoned my jacket, casually brushing it aside as I
slid my hands into my pants pockets. I spread my legs, bringing his attention to
my lower body. My dick was a hard bulge in my cords.
He licked his lips, leaned close to hear what Toni was
saying, but never took his eyes from my crotch. Other people might temporarily
block his view, but once they had danced out of the way, his gaze would still be
fixed on me.
The waiter brought our drinks. I sat up and crossed my
legs, and reached for my beer. A final glance toward Julian revealed wild color
which made his cheekbones stand out.
****
"Your ice is melting," I told Julian as he came
back to the table, leaving Toni dancing with a very attractive brunette in a
blue evening gown.
He bared his teeth at me, sat down and grabbed his drink.
"You were making a spectacle of yourself, do you
realize that? Sitting there with a hard- on visible to all and sundry!"
"No one else seemed to notice, Julian."
His only response was to grind his teeth.
I took a swallow of my beer. "Who is that Toni is
dancing with?"
"My secretary!" he snarled. Abruptly he turned
pale. "I mean, that's my wife."
"Your wife used to be your secretary?"
"Yes. No. Listen, why don't you go up and dance with
her?"
"I'd rather dance with you, Julian," I muttered
under my breath.
"What did you say?"
"The Fox-trot might come back some day." I could
feel his eyes on my back as I went out onto the dance floor.
I was in time to hear Toni grumble, "Men can be such
babies."
"Hey, I resent that!" I might have it out of
context, and it might very well be true, but I had to stick up for my sex.
"Hi, Igor! Stephanie, this is Igor Sullivan, my
neighbor. Igor, this is Stephanie, Julian's wife."
I used the moves of the dance to circle the brunette and
smiled. "Well, well, I must say the tooth jockey has excellent taste in his
women." She was very soignée. If I were inclined that way, I'd certainly
make a move on her, even if she was a few years my senior.
"Igor!" Toni's voice was petulant, which
surprised me. She was never
petulant. "That's not his real name, you
know."
"Oh, my first name really is Igor, but I changed my
last name to Sullivan." It was a gambit I often used, like telling people I
was writing the great American tragedy, or comedy or whatever the flavor of the
week was, which frequently brought me success.
Not with Stephanie Winston, however. Her eyes ran over me,
and she seemed to smile to herself. "Really? I understand you write
plays."
"I lean toward Pirandello," I remarked as I slid
between her and Toni.
Stephanie apparently couldn't care less. She studied the
way I moved my hands, swayed my hips, pivoted on my feet. "What dance step
is that?"
"This is the Uptight. And this is the…"
Another man danced up to us. "Hi, Sergeant!"
Toni's eyes narrowed.
"Hi, Harv!" Stephanie responded cheerfully, and
Toni began to look decidedly put out.
"…Boogaloo," I concluded, demonstrating the
movement. I didn't know why I bothered, none of them paid any attention to me.
"We have to use the ladies' room. Come on,
Stephanie." Toni's fingers closed over Stephanie's forearm, and she began
dragging her away.
"We do?" The older woman widened her eyes, but I
could see the amusement in them.
Part 4
A small man wearing a tuxedo with a ribbon of some order or
other across his chest sighed gustily. "I may as well have brought my
wife!" He gave me a rueful smile, a small bow, and a click of
his heels. "Arturo Sanchez, at your service, young man. I see you
accompany my dentist."
"Julian Winston is your dentist? In that case,
yes."
"I had hoped to have the good fortune of perhaps
becoming better acquainted with his secretary, the so lovely Miss Dickinson, but
this does not seem to be my lucky night."
Was '
This was confusing. I glanced over to the table where I'd left Julian, to find he was gone. An emotion I was reluctant to identify clutched my chest. He couldn't have left, not with Toni still here. I scanned the room quickly, wondering if perhaps he'd gone to the men's room. And then I spotted his dark head at another table.
"If you'll excuse me, Señor Sanchez?"
"You go to speak with Dr. Winston?" He tapped his
chest. "I go with you to pay my respects."
"Yeah, sure." I made my way off the dance floor
and to the table where the man I recognized as the one Stephanie addressed as
Harv was seated. With him was a woman whose tits looked like they were about to
spill out of her snug bodice and Julian Winston. Julian was leaning forward,
speaking earnestly.
"I'm telling you, it's a nightmare, Harv. It was
simpler when I didn't want to marry the girl, when we were just having an
affair!"
The buxom woman stared in shocked disapproval at Julian.
"Rotten, rotten!" she muttered. Her censorious gaze went to Arturo
Sanchez and then to me. "His wife's boyfriend! His girlfriend's boyfriend!
Rotten, rotten, rotten!"
Behind her back, Harv shrugged and circled his finger by
his temple, indicating she was a little nutty. I thought that was rude. Señor
Sanchez ignored him completely.
"Good evening, Doctor," he murmured politely to
Julian.
"Good evening, Patient."
"What's a nightmare, Julian?" I ran my hand over
his shoulder. If he'd been standing I'd have been severely tempted to reach down
and squeeze his ass.
"Hmm? What?" For a second I would have sworn he'd
leaned into my touch, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. "Oh… er…
nothing, Igor. This is Harvey Greenfield, my… um… wife's friend, and his
friend… er…
"I don't know what you're talking about,
"You kicked me in the shin! I swear I'm never doing
you a favor again!"
We went back to our table. "Stephanie's friend, hmmm?
For someone you only met last night, you seem rather… chummy… with him, Jules."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're repeating yourself. Is that a sign of a guilty
mind?"
"I have no intention of getting into a battle of wits
with you, Igor."
"Y'know what I find interesting, Jules?"
He peered down his nose at me, and for some reason I found
that so arousing I wanted to kiss him. Maybe he saw that in my face, because he
glowered at me. "What makes you think there's anything about you that I'd
find interesting? And stop calling me 'Jules'."
Oh, now, that
was interesting! How had he come up with that?
He realized his slip. "I mean… I mean… what makes
you think that I'd be interested in anything you found interesting!"
"Of course. What else would you think I'd think you
meant?" He looked totally confused, and on him, that was an adorable look,
if a man with his craggy features could be called adorable. The corner of my
mouth kicked up in a grin. "What I find so interesting, Julian, is that you
always call me by my first name."
He hmmphed. "I definitely am not getting into this
with you, you hippie!" The last resort of a cornered man: name calling!
"Did you wish to see me about something, Señor Sanchez?"
"Only to ask if you had any objections to me seeing
the beautiful Stephanie after office hours."
"Why would I care who the dratted woman sees?" It
was Julian's turn to do petulant.
"She isn't your ex-wife yet, Jules," I whispered
in his ear, wanting to kiss the moue from his lips.
All Señor Sanchez heard was 'wife'. "You are right,
of course, my wife would not approve." He sighed once more and returned to
his table.
"Just make sure that mink stole doesn't get
damaged!" Julian called after him. "They don't grow on trees, you
know!" So he realized it was the one he had given Toni. I would have liked
to have been a fly on the wall when she confessed what she'd done.
"Si, si."
"Julian, I wonder if I could interest you in …"
"Oh, look, Toni is back!" His relief was
palpable. I was only going to offer him another gin and tonic. What did he think
I was going to do, proposition him?
"Are you sulking again, Julian?" Toni demanded,
sounding a little sulky herself. She was flushed, and her lips seemed swollen.
Had something happened in the ladies' room?
"Men do not sulk, Toni. I grew tired of dancing with
Señor Sanchez while you were dancing with Mi… um… with Stephanie!"
"You were going to say with your wife. Don't try to
deny it, Julian! You still have feelings for her!"
I glanced across the room, seeing Stephanie making her way
to the table where Señor Sanchez was guarding her mink. Maybe it was time to
call out the big guns. I left Julian arguing with Toni, and went to the woman he
was thinking of divorcing for her. I liked what I had seen of Stephanie, but I
wouldn't have minded if he'd divorced her for me.
The music had switched to something eminently suitable for
holding your partner close and rubbing yourself up against him. "Dance with
me, Stephanie." I took her in my arms and began to dance slowly.
"Shhh," I murmured when she would have protested. "Relax,"
when she tried to pull herself out of my loose embrace.
Her posture remained somewhat stiff, but at least she was
moving her feet now. "Igor…"
"Stephanie, is Julian looking this way?" I didn't
dare risk a look myself. I wanted him to see me with my arms around his almost
ex-wife, and wonder what they would feel like around him.
"Yes, he is."
"Groovy." I rubbed my lips over the soft skin of
her throat, which was so different from the skin of a man's throat.
"Would you mind telling me what you're trying to
do?" She sounded like an adult trying to reason with a child. I nipped her
ear, taking care not to get a mouthful of earring.
"Isn't it obvious? I want to make him jealous." I
was tired of the mixed messages I'd been receiving from the man. Maybe
this would jolt him into realizing he'd be better off with a male lover…
better off with me.
"Igor. Julian couldn't care less what I do. Any
longer." She didn't sound as if it mattered much to her. Apparently, when
the feelings were gone, they were gone.
"But maybe he'll care what I do."
"I beg your pardon?"
I had spoken without thinking. Being in lust with Julian
Winston was making me stupid. I never made a slip like that! "I've shocked
you. I'm sorry."
She leaned back and stared into my eyes, studying them
intently, then gazed over my shoulder. Her eyes took on
a wicked gleam. "Let's give him something to think about!" She
brought my face down to hers, and we kissed, trying to make it seem more
passionate than it actually was, but there were no sparks. I hoped we were the
only ones who knew that. After a short time, she pulled back, gazing over my
shoulder again. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. "It didn't work.
They're leaving."
I had to see for myself. I turned her, making it appear
that I was nuzzling her throat. "No, wait!" I whispered in her ear.
"They're looking back!" I kissed her again, brushing my lips gently
over hers, sucking her lower lip into my mouth, nibbling on it, putting
everything I had into that kiss.
But it wasn't enough. Not for her, and not for me. And when
I looked again, he was gone.
****
I woke up on the beach at
"Didn't we have this conversation last night?"
I was afraid that the night before I'd spoken of more than
her joining me in bed. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I had the uneasy
feeling that I'd talked about my feelings for Julian. I'd had so many Mexican
Missiles that I couldn't remember. Or maybe that was just a convenient excuse.
"Ah, well, you can't blame a guy for trying."
I helped her to her feet and whistled up a cab for her,
then slipped a piece of paper with my address into her hand. "That's where
I live if you ever want to find me, beautiful Stephanie."
She gazed back at me as I stood at the curb, my hand raised
in good-bye, but somehow I didn't think she was seeing me.
****
The pounding on my door was keeping time to the pounding in
my head. "Go away," I yelled, and flinched as pain racketed
through my skull. "Oh, god, just go away and let me die in peace!"
"Igor, I know you're home, and I need to talk to
you!"
Why had I never realized what an annoying brat Toni Simmons
was?
"Please?"
Damn. I crawled out of bed, idly marveling that I'd at
least had the sense to put on
pajamas before I'd gone to bed earlier. I staggered to the door, still more
asleep than awake.
I didn't have as many locks on my door as Toni did, and it
only took a second to unlock it. "Don't you have to be at work? Why are you
bothering me so early in the morning?"
"It's not morning, Igor. I've been to work, and now
I'm home. Do you have a hangover?"
"No, thanks, I have a hangover already."
"Huh?"
"Huh?" I stared at her blearily, but she seemed
confused. "Toni… I need something to drink."
"I'd say you had more than enough to drink!" Spiteful little witch.
"I meant a cup of coffee. You want a coke, Toni? I may
have one in the fridge. And the church key is in that drawer next to the
sink." The coffee in the pot was god knew how old, but I didn't have the
patience to brew a new pot. I turned on the burner all the way to reheat it. The
sound of the pilot light igniting the element had me flinching. "I need a
Bufferin." I went into the bathroom and took the bottle out of the medicine
chest, shook out two tablets and swallowed them. After a moment, I shook out
another two, and swallowed them as well. "Okay, you want to tell me what's
up?"
"I might ask the same of you, Don Juan!"
"What? Toni, I'm not in the mood to play games."
"I want to know what happened between you and
Stephanie. I mean, I have a right to know!"
"Oh, yeah? How do you figure that?"
"She's my fiancé's wife."
"You think that makes you practically related? Listen,
Toni…"
"I saw the way you kissed her neck last night,
Dracula!"
I went to a cabinet and took down a cup. "I don't
think this is any of your business, Toni."
"Well, I just think it's in very poor taste for you to
sleep with the woman who happens to be married to my fiancée!"
She was accusing me of poor taste, when she was dating a
married man? That was something I had never done, I assured myself righteously. I may have taken them to
bed, but I had never dated them!
"She wouldn't
let you, would she?" Toni probed.
"Hey!"
That was too close to the truth. "Maybe I didn't want to!"
"You're a man, Igor. Of course you wanted to. Anyone
would want to." Her expression became unexpectedly wistful.
"She's a lovely, appealing woman." And I'd had a
fun time with her the night before. I was pretty positive.
Suddenly Toni's face twisted, and she looked as if she were
going to cry. "Did you sleep with her?"
"She's a lady, Toni." I poured my coffee. I'd let
it boil, and now it was too hot. I sighed; I'd have to wait for it to cool.
"Hmmph! A lot you know!" She started tearing at a
cuticle. "So you're telling me she didn't try to seduce you, too?"
"Me
too?" I was glad I hadn't taken a sip yet. I'd have choked on it.
"I mean…" For a second she didn't look as if
she knew what she meant. "I mean, look at all the men around her last
night! And Julian said…"
"Oh, yeah, we have to believe everything Julian says,
don't we? Look, Toni, you can't have it both ways."
"I don't know what you're talking about." She had
wandered over to my back window, and she seemed to find whatever was going on in
the yard below fascinating, although it was so dark outside I was surprised she
could see anything.
"Don't you? You can't be pleased that she didn't sleep
with me because she didn't want to, and then be upset she didn't sleep with me
because I didn't want to." I
blew on my coffee and turned away.
"Oh, you're giving me a headache, Igor! And my feet
hurt! I had to walk all the way home from The Slipped Disc last night. Julian's
car got towed, and he had to go after it…"
The rest of what she was saying went unheard, as I indulged
myself with the image of Julian Winston running down
I was gazing into space with a broad smile on my face when
Toni poked me and snarled, "It's for you, Casanova!"
Julian Winston's wife was standing in my open doorway.
"Stephanie! Come on in. "Toni was looking at the other woman as if she wanted her,
covered with whipped cream, maraschino cherries strategically placed, and I
couldn't resist testing a theory. "Did you decide to take me up on my
offer? I can get rid of Toni, and we can make mad, passionate love to each
other."
It was successful. Toni's expression changed to shocked
disbelief.
"No, Igor. I actually came to talk to Toni."
Stephanie wavered between consternation and amusement. "I tried your
apartment first, Toni, but obviously you weren't home."
"Obviously." Mulish obstinacy really wasn't an
attractive look for Toni.
I huffed in irritation. In that space of time it had become
obvious to me that Stephanie had feelings for the younger woman. I was tempted
to take Toni over my knee and paddle some sense into her.
"Igor, would you mind leaving us alone?"
I looked from one woman to the other. "If you're going
to have a cat fight, can't I get to watch?"
"Igor, you're such a male chauvinist pig!" This
from a woman who was dating a man old enough to be her father. I scowled at her,
and she scowled back at me. "You can wait in my apartment."
"I never get to have any fun." Julian wasn't
going to be there. Not at this time of the day.
It wasn't until I was out in the hall that I realized I was
barefoot, still in pajamas, and holding a cup of coffee that was so bitter and
so scorched-tasting that I lost all desire for it. Toni's door wasn't locked,
and after I entered her apartment, I poured the coffee down the drain and left
the cup in the sink.
"Toni, you really shouldn't leave your door
open." Julian. I was able to observe him before he realized I was there,
and I drank in the sight of him. His hair was neatly styled. He was wearing a
dark suit, white shirt, and that grey
tie. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw me. "Good grief, Igor! Why is it I always find you here? Don't you have a
home of your own?"
"Don't you have a practice?" I shot back. The
Bufferin was starting to work, but only just. "What are you doing
here?"
It's … it's none of your business if I want to pay Toni a
visit! What am I explaining to you for?" His eyes suddenly bulged and his
jaw dropped as he took in my attire. "You're in pajamas! You're in my
girlfriend's apartment, and you're wearing pajamas! Did you spend the night
here?" I opened my mouth, but he jumped in again. "No, that's right,
you couldn't have, you spent the night on the beach with Stephanie. On my mink stole!"
"I don't know, Julian. You really think mink is you?
Personally, I'd like to see you lying on chinchilla." Naked. "Now
that's a rich fur." I inhaled, just to see if he was wearing British
Sterling. He was, and predictably, my dick got hard and tented my pajama
bottoms.
"You… you young…"
"You know something, Julian? You may prefer your
lovers young enough to be jailbait…"
"Toni's not jailbait!"
I ignored him. "… but I'm not a boy; I'm an adult.
Too much of an adult to continue playing games with you. You know something
else? I've had it! This is it! I'm going back to the Baths and I'm going
to…" My mouth was dry, and I needed something to drink. I opened Toni's
refrigerator and stuck my head into it, "…find my Indian!" I groused
to myself. I took out the carton of milk.
"You go to the Baths?" He shook his head.
"Never mind. Where is Toni?" He snatched at the container of milk. I
wasn't about to fight him for it, but he didn't realize that, and yanked harder
than was necessary to take it away from me. The milk spilled all over the floor,
splattering over my bare feet as well.
I found myself breathing hard. I couldn't take my eyes off
his mouth. I needed to kiss him in the worst way. "Fuck." Who was I
trying to fool? I'd play any games he wanted. I wrapped my fingers around his
upper arms, pulled him to me, and covered his mouth with mine. For one long
second he stood there like a block of ice, cold, unresponsive. And then he
moaned.
The kiss had no finesse. It was raw and hungry and
desperate. And he was kissing me back the same way.
I released his arms and buried my fingers in his hair,
kneading his scalp mindlessly as my
tongue explored his mouth, as his tongue dueled with mine. Needy moans and
little whimpers were the only sounds in Toni's kitchen, and harsh breathing, and
cloth rubbing against cloth as we tried to climb into each other's body.
He tore his mouth free, and his teeth scraped down over the
curve of my adam's apple to sink into the spot where neck and shoulder joined,
biting through the material of my pajama top. My dick jerked, and he slid his
thigh between mine. I grabbed his ass and held on while I rode his thigh hard.
"Julian!" I whispered. "You're going to make me come! I haven't
come in my pants since I was fifteen!"
The sound of Toni at the front door broke us apart. Julian
stared at me for an instant, his face flushed, his lips swollen. I ran my tongue
over my lips and tasted his kiss, and his flush deepened. He whirled around and
opened the refrigerator, letting the chilled air cool his cheeks.
I snatched up
some paper towels and went to work mopping up the milk that had spilled.
"Thanks, Igor." Toni took in the tableau before
her. "You can go home now." She seemed a little perturbed, and I
wondered what had happened with Stephanie.
I waited to see if Julian had any objections, but he found
the contents of her fridge too interesting. "Okay, Toni." I left them
in her apartment.
"Igor! Isn't it rather early for pajamas?"
"Oh, er… Hello, Mrs.
She shook her head and wagged her finger at me playfully.
"This younger generation!"
I gave her a weak smile and fumbled at my door.
Once inside, I pressed my ear against the wall and heard
Toni say, "What are you doing here, Julian? I thought you weren't coming
over until later tonight?"
"I wanted to see you, baby. Aren't I allowed to spend
some time with my best girl?"
I didn't want to hear any more. It didn't matter that he
enjoyed my kisses. It didn't matter that kissing me had made his dick so hard it
could have drilled a hole in my hip. He was going to divorce his wife and marry
Toni.
I glanced down at the front of my pajamas. My dick was
still hard. I groaned. I was going to take a shower. A cold shower.
I stripped out of my pajamas and was just about to step
into the shower when I heard banging on our shared wall. Toni had agreed that if
she ever needed me, she would do that. I yanked a towel off the rod in the
bathroom and knotted it at my hip as I headed for the door. I skidded to a stop
when I opened it and saw that Joe Schutt had been waylaid by Mrs. Wilson and her
Siamese, who sat at her feet, his tail whipping restlessly. Joe cast me a
hopeful glance until he saw my state of undress, and then he resigned himself to
having to listen to all the latest gossip.
"Sorry, Joe," I mouthed and slammed the door
shut. The last thing I needed was to get into a discussion as to why I was
wandering the halls of my apartment building in the altogether. I thought
quickly and went to the window that gave access to the fire escape. The night
air was cool, and I shivered, refusing to look down to the alleyway three
stories below. I kept my eyes on Toni's window, and swung over to it.
Letting out a breath of relief, I slid up the window I had
broken only the other day, and climbed in.
Julian was lounging on Toni's daybed; his jaw dropped and
he bolted upright. "What do you mean coming into my fiancée's apartment
through the window?"
"Well, I can hardly go through the hallway dressed
like this," I told him reasonably.
"You didn't let it stop you the last time!"
Julian was looking… hurt?
I looked to Toni for an explanation, but she just shrugged.
"I just hope the two of you will be very happy!"
Julian walked stiffly to the door. "You've destroyed my marriage, you've
alienated me from my children." He turned and was looking directly at me
when he said, "You've broken my heart! Thank god I still have my
integrity!"
That was a valedictory speech if ever I heard one.
"What was that all about?"
"He lied to me, Igor! A man who lies, cannot love!"
That sounded like something from a fortune cookie. "So
what got his shorts in a bunch?"
"I told Julian we were lovers."
"You what?
Toni…! Julian! Fuck!" I tore
open the door and raced after him, totally ignoring the couple who stared at me.
"Julian!" I hopped on the
banister at the center of the staircase and slid down one flight, skidded across
the landing and repeated the wild ride down to the second floor, and then to the
first. It was a good thing I had that towel on, otherwise I'd have got a nasty
burn on my ass. I caught him at the lobby door. "Julian, wait!" I was
out of breath.
He faced me, his hand on the doorknob. "I'm going to
the nearest bar. I'm going to order a dozen Mexican Missiles, and I'm going to
get plastered!" He tensed and raked his gaze over me. "Igor, you're in
your towel."
"Yeah, so?" I panted.
"I thought you didn't want the neighbors to see you
like this."
"The hell with the neighbors. You're more important
then they are."
"I am?"
I ran a hand through my hair. "Look, you're right, I
can't stay down here like this, if only because I can feel this knot slipping.
Come back up to my apartment."
"Isn't your girlfriend going to object?" I looked
blank. "Your girlfriend, who was formerly my girlfriend."
"Julian, Toni is nothing more than a friend to me. I
feel responsible for her because I saved her life. I thought you realized from
the way I kissed you that I… I'm more likely to have a boyfriend than a
girlfriend."
"And do you have a boyfriend?"
I thought wistfully of my Indian. "No. Now, please.
Come upstairs with me?
"Are you going to kiss me again?"
"I promise I'll keep my hands to myself."
"In that case…" He started to walk out the
door.
"Julian!"
He turned and grinned, and I realized that he was teasing
me. I let out the breath I'd been holding, and we began the upward climb
to my apartment. When we reached the third floor, the corridor was empty. I
guessed Pat had come to his brother's rescue.
My door must have locked when I slammed it before exiting
out the window. I smacked it about six inches above the keyhole and turned the
knob. It opened, and Julian looked impressed. "It's an old door," I
shrugged. "Come on in. I'm sorry, all I have is beer. But if we drink it
warm, we can get plastered on that."
"Never mind, the moment has passed." He approached my desk and idly flipped through some pages of notes.
Well, I could use a beer. I went to the fridge and got a
cold one. "Are you sure?" He shook his head. "Okay, Julian, so
tell me something. What happened? I thought you and Toni were solid. What caused
her to tell you she and I were lovers."
"I told her my wife is refusing to give me a
divorce."
"Oh." I sat on the corner of my desk, not
realizing the towel was exposing the length of my thigh until I saw him staring
at it. "Um…"
He raised his eyes to mine. "I told her she and I
could still see each other."
"So you aren't going to marry her. I guess she got
annoyed."
"Annoyed?" He gave a little laugh. "That's
putting it mildly."
"I still don't see how I got involved."
"She said the situation was fair, that I'd have her
and my wife, and she'd have me and you."
"And you believed her."
"Not until she banged on the wall, and you came in
through the window."
"Well, isn't that a kick in the head?" I took a
swallow of beer. "Now that you know there really isn't anything between us,
will you take Toni back?"
"There's one small complication. You see… The thing
is…" He took my beer and brought it to his lips for a healthy swig. I was
going to save that bottle for posterity. "Igor, I'm not married. I've never
been married."
"Son of a bitch!" I thought quickly. "So who
is Stephanie?"
"She really is my secretary. Was my secretary."
"Oh?"
"She walked out this morning. Quit, just like
that." He snapped his fingers. "I can't imagine why."
"Then there isn't anything to stop you from marrying
Toni."
"Actually, there is."
I became exasperated. "I mean besides the fact that
you don't want to get married."
"That's not exactly why. Igor, you're what's stopping me from marrying her."
"What?"
My voice was a couple of octaves higher than normal, and I lost my balance and
slid off the desk. "What? Oh, fine, blame me because you've got cold feet!
No wonder why you're forty-five and still unmarried!"
"Uh… Igor, the reason I'm… how old I am, isn't
because of cold feet. It was just that I couldn't… um… decide who I liked
better."
"So you'd flit from one girl to another? You know something, Julian? Your kind of guy gives love a bad name."
"You know something, Igor? For a writer, you talk a
lot of nonsense! I meant I couldn't decide if I liked women or men better."
"Women or…" The light went on. "Oh."
"Yes. Oh."
"But you gave off such mixed signals. You made me
crazy with your mixed signals!"
"And you enjoyed coming on to me, admit it." He
waited for my sheepish nod. "We've established, I think, that I'm a tad
older than you."
"A 'tad'?"
"Bastard," he said without heat, a smile in his
eyes. "As I was trying to say, you've had the benefit of the sexual
revolution, but that was slightly after my time. Um… you want to get off the
floor, Igor? I'm getting quite a show here."
"No kidding? I was hoping you'd notice." I
stretched up a hand, and he took it and pulled me to my feet, using enough force
to bring me flush against him. "Oh!"
"Like that, do you?" The fingers of one hand were
fondling the flesh of my thigh, while the fingers of the other toyed with the
knot at my hip.
I nodded and licked my lips. I wondered if he was doing
this on the rebound, then I decided I didn't care. I'd just have to show him I
was better than any woman he'd ever had, that he could ever hope to have. Maybe
I could even get him to play dress up. "Julian, what do you think of the
Lone Ranger?"
"I was always partial to Tonto, myself." Suddenly
his stomach rumbled.
I realized I was hungry also. "I'll get dressed and
make you some dinner."
He grinned at me. "Igor, you don't have to get dressed on my account."
~End~
