“Home, James. I mean Yves.”
Jake’s mood improved after lunch. They had purchased all the stuff Jake needed to transform Trigger into a tropical island. At the hardware store, they bought a couple meters of astro turf to cut into fronds.
At the hospice, Jake was too tired to get out of his scooter. Yves lifted him and carried him to his room. He was dismayed at how light Jake was.
“Carried across the threshold.” Jake’s eyes closed as Yves put him on the bed. “Mother would be pleased. So pleased …”
Yves eased off Jake’s runners, draped a blanket over him and left the room. Downstairs the nurses had brought in Trigger. Nancy and some of the night shift nurses wanted to do the island make-over. Yves’ duties were finished.
Outside, he felt he had left something behind. He hadn’t planned his time after Jake.
A drink or a bath?
He saw David Walters on the opposite corner. They waved. His interview with David had gone well, and though there was a strong sexual energy, he hadn’t followed it up to keep his research professional.
He crossed over to David. “Can I interest you in a drink?”
“Before four p.m.?”
“That’s a yes?”
“Stop twisting my arm! I have some serious stitching to do later. But I do have more free time than I expected.”
“Big E’s okay.”
“As good as any other dark dank watering … uh … I don’t want to say hole. Too negative. How’s Cock Talk coming?” David asked as they walked along.
“It’s now in the hands of the publisher. If this one sells there could be a Cock-a-Two.”
“Draw any conclusions?”
“Most men who are willing to talk about cock are happy with what God gave them.”
“That’s a shocker!” David laughed. “You find a taker for that basement apartment?”
“Not yet. The few guys I saw were such creeps I put it off till the fall.”
They stopped at the lights and kitty-corner from them Mark waved. They waved and the lights changed.
“Who is that boy with him?” Yves asked under his breath.
“Oh, I hadn’t noticed. Some kid working for rent.”
“Well …” Yves recognized anger in David’s tone.
“Sounds like you do need a drink.”
“It has been one of those days. Lost a job. Got a job. Got two impossible fabric constructions, for two impossible queens, to complete before midnight. One for Miss Ing Thing and one for Tisu Tramama. And my back is killing me.”
“A massage might do you more good than a drink.”
“Yves, you keep coming up with great lines! As a matter of fact, I do live around here. Right here.” They stopped in front of a high-rise. “It’s not as if we haven’t been introduced. Don’t run when you see the mess.”
The living room was strewn with scraps of fabrics, thread, lace and wire.
“In this corner, in the killer collar, is the gown for Miss Ing Thing. In the other corner, in leopard and zebra, is the fur trap for Tisu Tramama. No real animals were harmed in making either of these costumes.” David ushered Yves through the apartment. “The bedroom is this way.”
Yves stood in the middle of the apartment as David stripped.
“You did say massage didn’t you? I understand that is easier with clothes off. And it is air conditioned.”
A rush of cool air greeted them as David opened the bedroom door.
Yves followed David. The blinds were drawn and the dark of the room was a relief from the bright hot they had left. He took off his fanny pack and rubbed his hands to build up energy as David settled himself face down on the bed.
He moved his hands a foot away from David’s body, where his palms sensed any emotional or physical energy blocks. Emotional blocks sent a prickly heat to him, while he picked up physical stress as a coolness.
“Whoa! What are you doing?”
“Taking your emotional temperature.”
“Whatever, that feels great.”
“Wait until I actually touch you.” Yves knelt on the bed, lowered his hands, and stroked from David’s shoulders to the top of his buttocks. He pressed harder with each stroke. “Let me know if I press too hard.”
“That is perfect.” David patted Yves on the inside thigh. “Why don’t you slip out of those itchy clothes?”
“Now whose using lines,” Yves laughed. As he kneaded David he became aroused.
“Do I have to undress you myself or aren’t you …” David rolled over and saw Yves’ erection strain his shorts. “Pardon me, you are interested.” He deftly unbuttoned Yves’ fly. He leaned forward and took the cock in his mouth.
Yves took his t-shirt off, wriggled out of his shorts, and stepped off the bed to remove his socks and sneakers. As he undressed, he feasted on the sight of the man on the bed. A ribbon of sunlight streamed through a crack in the blinds and played across David’s black flesh.
He lay with David’s cock within mouth range and his cock once again in David’s mouth. David’s teeth gently and then less gently nibbled his foreskin.
They stopped at the same moment and sat up to embrace, to kiss, to hold. As they enfolded each other, Yves breathed a prayer of gratitude that once more God had let him into the mystery of touch.
Once he had showered at home after rehearsal Steven sat on the deck in the shaded back of his house to sort out what had happened at the rehearsal. Sexual arousal while in character was new to him. None of his past roles had called on him to become this close to another male character. He done boy meets girl stuff and he had never been aroused any of them.
To be caught up this way was strange. As Steven he didn’t find Tim someone he would pursue or whose pursuit he would enjoy. But as John he found Gabe attractive. This was what the text called for and this was what, as an actor, he had allowed to happen.
He had never slipped into a character that took over his body in this way. A limp, an accent or a wig were props but to have his sexual arousal become one of those props was unexpected. He wondered if Tim made a separation between Steven and John, Tim and Gabe. He was afraid that if he said something that the on stage chemistry between them would suffer.
He sank in the chaise to watch the leaves of the maple rustle in the breeze. He closed his eyes to enjoy the breeze on his bare chest.
The phone rang. He dashed into the house to answer it.
“Hi Steven? It’s Tim.”
“Hi, Tim.” Speak of the devil.
“Can I drop by? I’d like to talk without Evan present.”
“Sure. You know where I live?”
“See you in five minutes?”
“More like five seconds? I’m calling from my car. I am getting out to walk to your door.”
A car door slammed over the phone before it went to dial tone.
“She-it.” Seven muttered.
The door bell chimed as he hung up the phone. All he wore were his boxers. He looked for a T-shirt or sweatpants but there was none at hand and the door bell rang again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Was he wearing theplaid boxers with the button fly? They were. He opened the door & they walked out to the patio.
“Nice garden. You the gardener?”
“I weed, Luke plants and prunes. Except for the compulsory pansies, these are all perennials so we haven’t planted much new the last few years. Cold drink?”
“Yeah, that sounds nice.”
“Coke? Classic of course.” Steven went into the kitchen.
“Sure. Great. Nice house. You’ve been here for a while?” Tim talked rapidly.
“Long enough,” Steven replied. He saw no reason to say more. The less he knew about his fellow actors, the less they knew about him, the easier it was to concentrate on the characters they portrayed.
Tim came into the house and went into the living room. He perched on the edge of the sofa. Steven handed him his drink and sat in a chair opposite.
Tim took a little sip and put the glass down. “About this afternoon …”
Steven leaned into his chair. He would have hugged his knees to his chest, but if he did his dick would fall out of his boxers.
“Steve, we’re getting somewhere with the play, aren’t we? Like, when we started, I wasn’t sure about it. I’ve never done anything gay before.”
“Comes a time …”
“I wanted to work with Evan. He lives up to reputation. I was afraid he’d be a … prick.”
“That has been known to happen.” Steven relaxed.
“And … I’ve never done … what we did this afternoon in rehearsal. You made it easy, so natural that I found it easier.”
“It was difficult for me.”
“But when I felt … saw you get … you know … hard … I knew everything would be all right. That we would …” He lurched forward and kissed Steven.
Steven pushed him away. “Tim … I …”
“I know. You have a partner and I respect that. I know we have an intense show to do …”
“Emotional stuff off stage won’t help. It’ll be a big problem if we let this go too far. Uh …” Steven’s mind raced. “Uh … ”
“Fuck it man, I’ve been crazy for you since that first read through. I know you feel something too, or we wouldn’t have made that scene work this afternoon.”
“Tim, this is so sudden.” Steven was in some soap farce. All this needed was for Luke to come home.
“My wife will kill me if she ever suspects.”
“Your wife!” The perfect out. “You’re married?”
“Four years. No kids, yet.” Tim sat. “It’s been tearing me up. You know, loving her, wanting kids, while wanting … you know …” He looked at Steven’s crotch.
“She doesn’t suspect?”
“I’m an actor.” Tim shrugged. “Lisa’s my biggest fan. She made me take this show after reading the script. Said it would be important for my career. What can we do?”
“Let’s … uh … keep this personal stuff separate, till the show is up & running. It’ll get in the way. You know that. Let’s not be alone so we won’t get pulled in any deeper than the … uh … text allows.”
“It won’t be easy holding you on stage and wanting you off stage.”
“Same here,” Steven lied. “But if we channel that energy into our performances …”
“How can you be so sensible? If you can be that strong I’ll try.” He clumsily kissed Steven again. “Sorry but …” his hand moved along Steven’s thigh, into the baggy boxers. “Oh, what a cock you got.” He kissed down Steven’s chest till he had the cock in his mouth.
Steven’s eyes glazed over as he stared away from the blond head between his legs.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License