Of Meetings by Julian K. Pearlson _____________________________________________________________
The copyright to this story belongs to the author who can be reached at Lherelenfeline@aol.com, please don't use it without permission. Secondly, if you object to male/male relationships you shouldn't be reading this. neither should you be at this site. The content is purely fictional and all if any similarities to any actual events are curcumstantional. This all said, enjoy your reading.
Of Meetings
He propped himself up on his elbow and lifted his gaze to the prostrate form that lay next to him. Now that he had a chance to take a proper look, they weren't all that dissimilar. With the make up kissed away and the aggression smoothed off by sleep, his companion looked downright peaceful, and nearly identical to himself. Moving slowly, as not to wake up the sleeper, he crawled off the bed and felt his way out the bedroom. He would turn on the lights in the hallway, after all, what would be the use of waking up an innocent? His lamentable nighttime habits weren't anyone's fault. He gently closed the door and winced as the light surged into his sleep numbed brain. "Better make this short," he thought to himself as he made his way to the bathroom
Once there, he allowed himself to relax, if only a bit, and let out a sigh. The happening of last night, or rather today morning, made themselves painfully true. He splashed some water on his face hoping to alleviate some of the pounding head ache and the nausea. The result was minimal, but enough for him to return to the bedroom without losing any of his stomach's contents. "Such is the price of drinking" noted a snide voice in the back of his mind, but he chose to ignore it. He knew what he was getting into when he walked into the bar last night. He wasn't mentally deficient when he presented his "ID" to the bar tender either. Neither was he daft when he walked up to the enticing stranger and "borrowed" the screwdriver. Thus, no matter which way he looked at it, his current state was solely his fault. Even if the activities that got him there were rather, pleasurable.
He smiled as his mind replayed their still sober conversation from the night before. From what he could remember, the stranger proved to quite a conversationalist. Very few people could maintain a healthy argument and not get upset when they lost. Even fewer could actually win one against him. Yes, yesterday was an interesting night indeed. He opened the door a crack and the light fell on the sleeper's upturned facade. Asleep, that face looked so different from what he'd first encountered. Relaxed, the Grecian features looked soft, none of the icy beauty that attracted him fist surviving the change. He knew it would be back in the morning, but for now he just enjoyed the sight of his sleeping bedmate. The figure in question lay in a careless sprawl. The tangled limbs looked almost ethereal in the dim light. As he looked closer, he discovered that the hair was not straight as he first thought, but rather wavy, it's longish strands curling lightly at the ends. The originally pristine skin was now marred with marks. He must have made them during the initial frenzy of their meeting. No bother, they would heal quickly and he wouldn't repeat the mistake again "Again? Getting hopeful here aren't we?" He chided himself as he turned off the light and started feeling his way back to the bed. After living there for so long he should really have known the layout of his bedroom by heart. Of course that would imply using the aforementioned room.
He continued to ponder his thought as he slipped back under the covers. It was too early to even consider the word ` again" much less plan upon it. What happened last night wasn't a dream, the evidence lay right there next to him. The problem was that he didn't even know what exactly happened. It was quite out of character for him. In fact, the entire evening was. There was no denying that the whole escapade and its aftermath were pleasant. It was also fairly obvious that he wouldn't mind it happening again. However that was just him. As sensuous and intelligent this creature was, there was no guarantee of a repeat. In fact there was a near certainty of them not seeing each other past morning. Morning, he'll deal with it all in the morning. Being a good host he wouldn't let his guest leave without a proper bit of breakfast and he'd resolve this whole situation in the time it would take to prepare and consume whatever it is they'd eat. Whatever the outcome would be, this experience wasn't all that bad. Frankly, he'd do everything not to let this one get away. "But that would be done in the morning" he thought and spooned the form next to him.
In the morning he woke up alone, to a silent house and a pounding hangover. Listening to the sounds of empty space, he allowed himself a few moment to ready himself before daring to open his eyes. His temples were pulsating, but it was nothing compared to before. "Nothing a pill can't cure" he thought to himself and rolled out of bed. As expected, there was no sign of last night's guest. It would have safely passed for a fantasy, if he wasn't physically feeling the evidence of their tryst that is. Emitting a low groan he stumbled into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Momma always said that coffee helped with hangovers. Then again she also said that he'd get married one day and give her a "fine set of grandkids." Still, it was worth a try and coffee was always good regardless of reckless alcohol consumption prior to the encounter with the holy Java bin. First order of business thus taken care of, he walked over to the front door. Sure enough it was closed but not locked. Upon a hasty inspection of his coat pockets the keys made themselves known with a jingle and an involuntary sigh of relief came from his lips. That already was good sign. What did that smart book say about events like this? "Check for your keys, then for your credit cards." The plastic demons proved to be safe and secure in their leather tomb and he left the hall for the bathroom with a bit of a spring in his step. Amazing, but all of his hours spent warming the bookstore floor with his behind had actually not been futile. "Ah, but last night was" echoed through his head, and he let the voice take him back to the bar.
He hadn't been at the bar long and yet the din and the smoke were getting to him. What was he doing there anyway? Oh, yes, now he knew. It was supposed to have been a "Change of scenery" for him. Apparently his friends thought he didn't get out enough to actually have a life and proceeded to fix that inexcusable error by dragging him to the God forsaken place and leaving him with the bar tender. Come to think of it, the guy was actually passably nice. "He got paid for it" he added as he stepped into the hot stream of metallic water. Paid or not, he did go easy on him once he'd admitted to not having had ever drunk before. The guy behind the counter wasn't the one to make him freeze though, was he? That reaction still puzzled him quite a bit. He was just sitting at the bar and sipping the monster concoction of strawberries, lime and something alcoholic and watching all the desirable bodies writhe and grind right before his eyes. He didn't come here to get touched all over and neither was he up for copping a free feel. Truly, morose cynicism does wonders to ones libido, i.e., brings it to zero. He did almost loose his glass though when a strawberry blonde mop of hair suddenly appeared not for away from where he sat. When writhing for a few seconds the owner of the mop appeared substantially closer than the last time, he drained his glass in one gulp and stood. The mop appeared even closer this time, and its owner spun around trying to spot someone. Then, decision made, he took a stop into the dancing fray when the own when the blonde head appeared right underneath his elbow, this time followed by the rest of its owner.
"Ah your vanity will be the end of you my young one " he chided himself as he worked the lather into his scalp. Vanity or not, it was the stranger's appearance that made his legs move and stop right in front of the unknown beauty. Actually, now that he replayed the whole event in his mind about 15 times he relies that its wasn't the appearance at all. It was the arrogant challenge shining in the impossibly deep eyes. That slightest balance between a game and a dare. Meeting those mythical orbs he reached for the shot glass in the stranger's hand. "Can I borrow this?" he had asked before slamming the screwdriver into the back of his throat. The water running cold brought him out of his pleasant little trip down the memory lane and he opted to leave the shower before it turned frigid. Besides, he had to make his hovel somewhat presentable. Eileen and her newest arm ornament were scheduled to visit later on that day, and like it or not, he had to appear responsible.
Eileen was the only member of his so called family he'd actually not lost touch with. Although there was very little blood shared between the two; they were n th cousins at best, they were still remarkably close. The friendship started off at his mothers monthly family gatherings and blossomed throughout their childhoods. When the circumstances forced him to leave the nest their bind was too strong to be broken. She was the only one whose phone number he didn't deliberately loose. A small smile crossed his features as he considered the advantages of not being close kin with the small brunette. She was a good companion and a friend and could always be passed off as his girlfriend if need arose. In fact, they didn't look anything alike. She was tiny dark and faerie like, with huge blue eyes that held many a man captive. He on the other hand was a near complete opposite. He passed the hallway mirror on his way to the kitchen and smiled at the blond giant in the glass. Indeed, they could , and did present themselves as a stunning couple. Regretfully those occasions were few and far in between, as Eileen has no trouble attracting prospective mates. His own needs were harder to serve but he managed just as well. Last night was only another reminder of that. Nipping that thought in the bud (dreaming of what might have happened was a useless occupation), he poured himself a cup coffee and took stock of his situation.
His condition was rapidly improving and he no longer had to squint at the stray sun rays that managed to make it past the drawn blinds. The house wasn't much of a mess, only a few stray papers littered the floor. They'd knocked the stack over in their hurry to get to the bedroom and he didn't bother to straighten them out right then. The only other area that appeared to be less than presentable was the noted room, but he didn't plan on inviting Eileen and her newest acquisition back there. They agreed to go out for lunch and then do any further planning . His brows drew together as he replayed their conversation from last week. Something was a bit off he remembered and now it came back to bother him. His cousin was more hyper than usual and that was scary. Her cheerfulness was one of the traits that tended to attract people to Eileen, but even so, it wasn't easy to deal with in excessive amounts. She'd mentioned that this had the lead in her current list of favorites and that the situation was getting "quite serious, in a good way." The word serious, in Eileen vocabulary meant either wonderful or dreadful news. Judging from her tone, and from "A Day Without Rain" playing in the background, the news would be good. Further mulling over the bygone conversation was decidedly fruitless and he settled in for a long, luxurious read of the Sunday Times. There were still good two hours until his cousin's arrival and he fully intended to spend them as he did every Sunday morning: catching up on a weeks worth of news. However, once he sat down, he found his mind wandering back to the bar.
They'd stumbled out of the smoky dungeon and both gulped for fresh air. He must have looked like a fish out of water, but that's what he in effect was. There's only so much second hand nicotine one could take before the instinct of self preservation would kick in. feeling his keys in the pocket of the faded once-black jeans he chose to wear he tugged this new friend toward the prehistoric Camry. Admittedly, the old girl didn't look like much, but she ran and was he couldn't afford much more anyway. The doors slammed shut as he pulled out of the parking lot almost moving down an innocent plan. "Jeez man, remind me not to cross you when I get reincarnated as a potted palm tree!" He just smirked in response and pushed the gas. Truth was, the shaggy blonde's close proximity had promptly sent his adrenaline into overdrive. The hand that chose to materialize on his thigh didn't help the matter one bit.
That hand apparently had a mind of it's own. Whilst it's owner innocently stared out the window, it started tracing slow circled along his leg, gradually getting higher. His throat went dry as the errant limb continued to brush and caress. " Are you trying to get us both killed ?" he asked when finally the fiddling proved too much of a distraction from the road. His passenger tuned to him, and looked him dead in the eye with those mahogany pools perhaps for the first time that night. The shaggy blonde then proceeded to tell him just how he would die once they made it home. He flushed at the memory of exactly how those ideas came to life that night and closed the newspaper. Unbeknownst to himself, he'd spent over and hour in dream land again and if he didn't stop he'd be caught by Eileen with his pants down, literally.
He wasted no time getting himself into a pair of faded jeans, blue this time since the black ones were just of question and a clean tee. He'd just stuck his feet into his loafers when there was a knock on the door. "Coming !" he shouted and snickered as the possible connotation of the word rang a bell. The doorknob jammed and he yanked it open, unwilling to wait any longer to meet the mysterious being who'd managed to satisfy his picky cousin. Sure enough there stood Eileen, all 5'5 of her, glowing. " Bubba! Darling! Long time no see!" she cried as he found his arms full of overexcited 18 year old. "Here, let me introduce you to..." and her worlds were lost to him as the now familiar mop of strawberry blonde hair came into focus. Finally, after a few gulps of air he managed to croak out "Honey, don't worry, we've already met," and opened the door wider. _____________________________________________________________ Herein lies the conclusion of the first installment of this saga. I may eventually post more, but not until I receive feedback as I am a vain and insecure writer-in-training. As it stands, I can be contacted at Lherelenfeline@aol.com. All criticism is welcome as long at its constructive, so tell me what you think