This story will contain sexual acts between two adult males. I am not, nor do I know the celebrities involved. I do not know their sexual preferences. If you are not of legal age, please direct yourself to another site. If you enjoy Nifty, please donate!
-------------------------------------------------- Channing's Visit - Chapter 6 --------------------------------------------------
Look who finally made it to land! Guys, I can't thank you enough for the e-mails and worried requests about whether or not I was continuing the story! Trust me, I am still writing (event at sea) and will not let you down!
I awoke slowly, as I always did, trying desperately to cling to the bliss of sleep. A stretch, a yawn, a grumbling roll. This morning, I added a slight wince of pain to the mix, my body reminding me that multiple bottles of wine is always a bad idea.
Well, not always.
I cracked my eyes open slightly, letting myself adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the window, and was unsurprised to see that Joey was gone. With a glance at the clock, I saw that it was well past noon. Mustering all of my energy, I rolled out of bed and made for the house. As I opened the back door, I was greeting by the smell of food in the making.
I rounded the kitchen corner and found Joey at the stovetop. He looked up from a skillet of eggs and smiled. "Morning. Or... afternoon, rather."
I grunted in response, heading straight for the Keurig. As my cup brewed, I glanced at Joey, wondering how the previous night's events would affect things around here. Whereas I had most certainly enjoyed myself, Joey was Channing's friend. And, it was only a little romp in the sheets. Joey was straight, or as close as one could get when inside another man. It was Channing I was more concerned about.
"Has he made an appearance?" I asked as I took a sip out of my cup. Joey shook his head. "I knocked and barely got a response. Something along the lines of `Leave me alone'. I'm hoping food will coax him out."
"And, here I was thinking this spread was for me."
Joey laughed. "Well, it is your food and there's plenty of it. I cooked for all of us, although I wasn't sure when you were going to wake up."
"Wine coma."
"Ah."
I stacked a plate full of eggs, bacon, mini-pancakes and toast and planted myself at the kitchen table. I was enjoying the meal until an unfortunate dip of the head landed a lock of hair in maple syrup. Joey hadn't missed the incident and shook his head as I made my way to the sink. "As someone who has had long hair, I'm telling you, Reagan: cut it off. Life is so much easier."
I began to object, then realized that I was washing sugared tree sap out of my hair in my kitchen sink. "Fine," I caved. "I'll go into Denver today and chop it off."
"Mind if I tag along?" I saw no reason not and, when I told him so, he smiled. "Maybe you should see if Chan wants to go," he suggested. "It might do him a world of good."
I finished drying my hair with a paper towel before throwing a plate of food together, then padded off to Channing's room. My first knock got no response, so I tried again. This time, a throaty grumble emanated from behind the doors. "Channing, it's Reagan. Can I come in?"
I took the noncommittal response as a yes, so I slowly opened the door. When I got no objection, I headed inside. The curtains were closed which enveloped the whole room in darkness. From the light I had let in, I could make out Channing's long frame under the sheets. His eyes followed me as I crossed the room and set the plate and silverware on the bedside table. I paused, then sat on the bed next to him.
"I'm not going to ask you if you're okay because I know you're not, but... I mean, obviously I'm here if you want to talk... and, Joey, too." He nodded slightly, then shifted below the sheets and grabbed my hand. I couldn't help but notice that it was his left hand... and it was bare, a light band where his wedding ring once sat. "Thank you. For everything."
"Don't make it sound like you're on your deathbed," I teased lightly. Although a smile played across his lips, his eyes were still terribly sad. I felt helpless. With no clue what to say, I just sat there, our fingers intertwined. The silence was thick, but not uncomfortable. Suddenly, Channing brought our hands to his lips and kissed my fingers gently. "Thanks for bringing me breakfast."
"Of course. Oh, Joey and I are going to Denver. Do you want to come? Get out of the house for a bit?"
Channing mulled it over, then shook his head. "I'm gonna hang here. I'm not really in the mood."
I squeezed his hand. "Okay."
As I released him and headed for the door, he called out. "Reagan, do me a favor?"
"Yeah?"
He held out a large manila envelope, the same size as the one Joey had handed him the night before. I hadn't noticed it sitting on the floor next to the bed. "Can you drop this in mail for me?" I didn't need to ask what it was, nor did I. I simply took it from him and tried my best to give him a sincere smile. But, as it left his hand, he reverted back to reclusive-sad Channing and refused to make eye contact.
Joey was waiting at the door as I closed it behind me. "No luck?"
I shook my head. "He's not up for it just yet."
"I didn't think he would be," he sighed. "Well, I'm going to shower before we go out. I might get a little trim myself."
"Okay. Let me finish breakfast and do the same and we can go."
A little under an hour later, Joey and I sped out of my garage in my Porsche Carrera towards Denver. I had just bought the car a few weeks prior and hadn't had a reason to drive it up until that point. Unfortunately, it was a short drive to Denver and wasn't convertible weather just yet, but I still loved being behind the wheel.
Joey spoke up in lieu of using the radio. "You like him quite a bit."
It wasn't a question, but I wasn't sure if I was comfortable talking about it.
"That's an interesting subject considering we just slept together," I replied, trying to divert his attention. Instead, he shrugged. "We did what we did. Doesn't mean what I said isn't true."
"I never said it wasn't," I admitted. "But... it's... complicated."
"How so?"
I scoffed. "Joey, we're mailing off his divorce papers today. The situation is as complicated as it can be."
"I disagree. You obviously have feelings for him. He obviously feels the same."
I turned my attention to Joey's face for a quick moment. "How can you be sure?"
"Have you two had sex?" I felt the blood rise to my face as I fell silent. "I will take your silence as a `yes', then."
Thinking back to the night prior, I found a loophole. "Okay, yes. We have... done that a couple times. But, he hasn't even kissed me. Tell me that's not weird."
I was more than surprised when Joey began to laugh. "It's weird for anyone but Chan. Trust me."
"Explain."
"Just... bear with me on this, okay? Being in movies, acting, whatever, he kisses people all the time. And, in one movie, in one scene, he has to do an insane amount of takes to get it perfect. So, in real life, kissing isn't something he takes lightly. The setting has to be perfect. The moment, the timing, the ambiance. Chan won't kiss someone until he feels it is absolutely perfect. So, him NOT kissing you yet is a rather good sign."
I absorbed Joey's words with a rapt silence. Logically speaking, it made sense. It was much like a porn star saying they didn't put out on first dates... or something.
But, before I could think of anything to say, Joey's phone rang. He looked at the screen and sighed. "Business. Sorry."
As he began his conversation, I faded into my own mind. It surprised me how easygoing Joey seemed about Channing and I. To me, it was still a relatively tumultuous situation. His divorce papers, freshly signed, were in my possession to be mailed. Despite how we felt about each other, was it even appropriate to begin a relationship with someone who was ending a marriage so soon? And, taking it another step, how would our hypothetical relationship even work? Would I tag along while he went to film? What would happen to my career as an artist?
I took a deep breath and shook all of those thoughts away. There were too many questions and not enough information. Luckily, it was a short distance to Denver and we were pulling up on my salon. As I parked, Joey was chatting away. He paused and covered the mouthpiece, whispering, "I'll be a minute," before resuming his conversation. I nodded and made my way inside.
As a regular, I was greeted by familiar faces. Shannon at the desk smiled brightly. "Reagan, what are you doing here? You just had a trim a couple of weeks ago."
I grinned sheepishly. "Yeah... I'm doing something a little more... dramatic."
She eyed me curiously. "After years of the same haircut? All right! Well, go right in. We are bone dry right now."
As I walked back, I greeted all the stylists. Michael, Bobby, Art, AJ and, my stylist, Dylan. The epitome of melodramatic, homosexual hair dresser, he did not look the part. Built like an Andrew Christian model and more tattoos than Kat Von D, Dylan was a hoot and a holler. He sprung up from his chair when he saw me, embracing me in a hug. "What the hell are you sauntering in here for? I just cut those golden locks of yours!"
"Good to see you, too, Dylan."
He tilted his head to the side. "What... is... up?"
"Nothing!" I insisted. "I just... I'm trying something different."
His eyebrows shot up. "Oh? Please do elaborate. I'm not a fucking mind reader, Mary."
"I've just decided that-,"
A sharp shriek from the entrance echoed through the salon. Shannon came bouncing around the corner, squealing hysterically. I knew who had just walked in. Dylan, however, looked confused. "Girl, what the hell is wrong with you?"
"I'm back here, Joey," I called. Dylan looked at me, then at the entrance as Joey came into view. He gaped openly for a quick second before firmly smacking me on the back of my head. "I know you didn't bring Joseph mother-fucking Inception in my salon without calling me first. I oughta shave your pasty ass bald." Without missing a beat, he greeted Joey with an open hand. "Dylan Quintain, owner and proprietor of this fine establishment."
"Nice to meet you," Joey replied, fighting off laughter as I rubbed my skull. Around the room, phones were out, iPhone cameras surely in use. Dylan took notice. "To quell the masses, would it be too much to ask if we could take a staff picture? Otherwise, these vultures will never stop hovering."
Joey laughed and nodded. "Of course. It'd be my pleasure."
The boys all but wet themselves with happiness. I volunteered to handle the taking of the pictures and promptly ended up with more phones than I've had in my entire life. One by one, I shot group photos, then solos with Joey. He took it one step further and signed some autographs, personalizing each one. I marveled at his humility as he made his way around the room. Each one was a new friend, not just a fan.
Before I knew it, I was in a chair and Dylan was draping me with a cover. "You never told me you knew him," he muttered, eyeing Joey across the room. I rolled my eyes. "I just met him a few days ago."
"Lucky you."
"He's straight."
"A girl can dream, can't she?"
"My hair?"
Dylan swatted me playfully. "What are we doing here? A trim?"
I sucked in a deep breath. "Cut it off."
There was a long silence before Dylan spoke again. "I'm sorry, what? After five fucking years of me trimming your tresses, you just want me to hack it off? After I've begged and pleaded for you to let me make you look presentable? What changed?"
"Nothing, I swear!"
Never one to be fooled, Dylan picked up a pair of shears and pointed it at Joey. "Hey! 500 Days of Hotness! Why is this one suddenly cutting her hair?"
Joey looked up from the styling book he had been perusing and shrugged. "Nothing I know of. Change of pace, perhaps?"
Dylan grunted, unconvinced. "Change of pace, my ass. Well, what are we doing to it? I'm not buzzing it."
Joey sprung up from his seat and handed Dylan his phone over my head. I couldn't see what was on the screen and that scared me. Dylan studied it before he spoke. "I like it. Let's get to it."
"Wait!" I screeched. "Don't I get a say in this?"
"No," they said together. I shrunk back into the seat, pouting as Joey laughed. "You'll have to trust my taste. And, Dylan's unparalleled talent, I'm sure."
"Ooh, she knows how to swell an ego," Dylan giggled, prompting a roll of my eyes which, in turn, prompted another palm to the head. "How did you even see that?"
"There are mirrors all over the place, moron. This is a goddamn salon."
"I hope you don't treat all of your customers like this."
"Fuck you. Now, onto the important business: are you donating this mop of hair?"
I nodded immediately. "Of course."
Joey suddenly jumped forward, whipping out his phone. "Wait. Before you cut it off, one last picture!" He shouldered up beside me, took a long strand of hair and comically placed it between his upper lip and nose. Not wanting to be upstaged, I separated a lock and did the same. Dylan took a few shots before handing the phone back.
"Do you mind if I tweet these?" Joey asked as Dylan placed my hair in a ponytail. I shrugged. "I'm not even sure how that works."
"You don't have a Twitter?"
"Nope. Barely use Facebook."
"He doesn't have any friends," Dylan interjected. I began to roll my eyes, but stopped when I caught him glowering in a mirror. "You ready for the chop?"
I found myself suddenly feeling apprehensive. "No!"
"Get ready."
"No, no, no!"
I clapped my hands over my face, emitting something between a wail and a moan. Dylan pulled the pony back and suddenly... my head felt lighter and I could feel the breeze on my neck. "Hard part's over, drama queen." I turned to see him holding about eight inches of blonde hair. My hand instinctively slid over my head, unfamiliar with the feeling of my hair so short.
"Oh... my... god..."
Dylan patted my shoulder comfortingly. "Let me finish before you have a meltdown."
I nodded, feeling my heart race in my chest. I was surprised at how something as simple as having my hair cut could affect me. Instead of lingering on the thought, I turned to Joey for a distraction. "Hey, maybe we should do something this weekend," I said to him as Dylan began snipping away at my hair. "Something to distract Cha-, um... us."
"Like what?" he replied, glancing at Dylan to see if he had caught the slip. I did the same in the mirror, but saw no indication that he had. "I don't know. My sister lives in Aspen. We could go see her. A change of scenery could be good for us."
"You're probably right."
I retrieved my phone and texted away. My sister was not only the perfect person to help cheer up Channing, but also the only person who knew me well enough to help me sort out our `relationship'. Her advice was always spot-on, especially when it came to my life. Mostly because we were basically the same person.
Her response came quickly, as it always did, and I relayed the news to Joey. "Her husband is out of town, so we'll have plenty of fun."
"Is he not fun?"
"Eh. He's a little... dull. Plus, he doesn't drink."
As if by telepathy, my phone began buzzing. It was my sister. I answered and put it on speaker, so as not to disturb my stylist. "Hey, Meagan."
"Hey, babe. So, who are these two guests?"
I laughed. "I can't tell you! It's a surprise!"
"Do you have a new boyfriend?"
This time, Dylan laughed. "That would be a pleasant surprise."
I ignored the jibe. "No, I don't have a boyfriend. It's just two friends of mine that need a fun weekend."
"Are these two of your mysterious celebrity guests, perchance?"
"What part of `surprise' don't you understand?"
She scoffed. "The part where my reclusive, moody artist brother suddenly has two friends over for a weekend getaway in Aspen. But, I am not one to argue. Besides, I could use a hand with the horses. They're getting antsy." I saw Joey's eyes light up.
"Perfect. We can take them for a ride and burn off some steam."
"Okay," Meagan chirped. "Well, I'm going to go do some extra laundry since I now have three guests. See you Friday."
We said our respective goodbyes and hung up. Dylan clipped and trimmed and fussed with my hair. Joey had immersed himself in his phone, typing away at an amazing speed. I slipped into a daydream-like state until I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"I'm all done, girl."
He spun me around in the chair to face the mirror. I was greeted by what looked like me, but with drastically shorter hair. Dylan had coiffed my shortened locks into what I could only describe as a classic 50's style with a modern twist, complete with a side part. Surprisingly, I really liked it.
"So?"
"I... really, really like it."
Dylan beamed. "Good! Now, get up and pay me."
As we stepped out into the sunlight, I found myself wondering what Channing would think of my new do. Then, I remembered the envelope in my backseat. As Joey climbed in, I snatched it up and made my way to the nearest mailbox. I stared at it as I walked, feeling a confounding mix of sadness for Channing's loss and excitement at what the future might hold for us. With a deep breath, I slid it into the mailbox and returned to the car.
Joey and I opted for fast food on the way back instead of venturing out to a restaurant. Even though it was the middle of the week, Denver was always busy and Joey's presence would have caused quite a ruckus. I was halfway through a burger when we pulled up to my house.
I was surprised to see Channing in the living room, sprawled out across the couch. He was wearing his signature baggy sweatpants and a hoodie over his head. He turned as we stepped in, took one look at me, then took another. Under his eyes, I suddenly felt self-conscious about my new look.
"Hi," I said quietly.
He stared for a few moments, eyebrows raised, before speaking. "Wow."
"Good wow?"
"Fuck yes." My cheeks flushed as he stood to join us. After making me turn around, he looked at Joey. "This is your doing, isn't it?"
"He wanted to get it cut. I simply chose the look."
Channing ran his hand over the side of my head, smiling down at me. I felt my skin bump up at the contact and couldn't help but smile back. I suppose the moment lingered because Joey cleared his throat before disappearing further into the house. "Do you really like it or are you just trying to make me feel better?" I asked quietly, resting my hands on his waist.
"Why do I need to make you feel better? Is something wrong?"
"No. Well... not with me. I mean... sort of."
"Thanks for clearing that up," he chuckled, using my own line. I playfully punched his stomach. "I... I'm worried about you, I guess. You know... with your... divorce."
He flinched at the word, but recovered his smile quickly. "Don't worry about me. I'll survive. I've got you and Joey here and that is all I need."
I beamed. "If you say so. Oh, get a bag packed though. We're going to stay with my sister this weekend in Aspen. Get some fresh air, ride some horses, get drunk." Channing's laugh warmed my heart. "Sounds like fun." He leaned over and pressed his lips to my forehead, then wrapped his arms around my shoulders. We stood like that in silence for a long while, him slowly rubbing my neck, me breathing him in.
"Come on, little man. Let's pack." --------------------------------------------------
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