“Hahaha! Well, are they gay or bi?”
“Potato, patato—tomato, tamato.”
“Huh?”
“Does it matter? They both suck cock. Who cares!” Blake’s sarcasm, that I’d grown to love over the years, never ceased.
“Jealous?” I thought about Leon and Fabian as Blake described them, sucking one another’s cock.
“No, boo. School starts in one week. I’m sure I’ll make some new friends. Ones who don’t get us arrested like Vive, blown up like Lex, or plane crashed like y-o-u.” He put a hand up to his face as if suddenly realizing he might be starting class not yet healed.
“What-the-flip-ever.” I had to keep his spirits up. “You’d be lost without us.”
“Ditto.” He rolled over on his side.
“Let me ask you something. Do you ever think about being with a woman?”
“I tried that already. Remember?” Blake smirked.
During our sophomore year—or was it our junior year—Blake had slept with a girl before coming out. He said he had to try it just once to make sure he wasn’t straight. He’d owed his family at least that much.
Blake told us the girl had made him swear he’d never tell a soul. And he hadn’t.
When I’d agreed to help him come out to his family at his parent’s house on Thanksgiving, he’d said, “Mom, Dad, I had sex with a girl at school. It’s not for me.”
“Have you tried having sex with a boy?” his mother had asked.
“No. Not really.”
With relief his mom had cried out, “Good—”
“But I want to.” Blake had admitted.
His father moved his dinner plate to one side and had said encouragingly, “Son, maybe you should try another girl, a redhead like this Tabitha Adelaide.”
Mr. and Mrs. Morgan had expressed mixed emotions that day. In time they became more accepting of their son’s sexuality.
“Of course I remember that you tried the opposite sex. I just wondered if you ever thought about trying it again.”
“No way, no how!”
I ran my hands over the plush, blue comforter that Blake’s legs were lost under. “Want me to bring you anything?” I got to my feet, looking down at him.
“You’re alive. I got my VBF back. That’s enough for today, don’t cha think?”
“More tea?” I asked, as Blake nodded. “Let me call downstairs and have a new pot sent up. I’ll leave the door cracked so you don’t have to get up. Okay?”
“Sounds good. Now, go bathe, girl. Ya smell! I’m going back to sleep for a bit.” He closed his eyes.
“I love you, Blake Morgan the third.” I hoped that addressing him by his formal name from time to time would remind him of how important he was. Not just to me, but to his community. Blake’s parents are prominent upstanding people in New England society who love their gay son very much.
“VBF, I heart you more.” Blake snapped his fingers for me to get to the bathroom. “Go before it gets cold.”
Exhausted in the bathtub, I pressed my back against the marble and closed my eyes. Images of Leon flashed before me, his sweet face, those big muscles, that thick cock. Slipping my hand into the milky water, I rubbed my sensitive clit.
Moaning softly, I submerged deeper into the water, releasing tension. I tried my best to relax…
The bathroom door opened.
With a turn, I expected to see Blake.
“Bonjour Tabby,” Fabian said my name incorrectly in a playful voice. Stepping in, he closed the door.
Covering my breasts with a nearby hanging towel I shouted, “Get outta here, Fabian!”
Not listening, he came closer. Black, cat-eyes focused on me. “We need to talk.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you, your lover, or that photographer. I quit.”
“Tabby!” The b’s rolled off his tongue.
I stood, water dripping from between my legs. Fuck this. I tossed my towel on the floor and glanced down to where I’d looked every morning when he’d done my makeup—at the large bulge in his pants.
Clear as day under his shorts, Fabian’s erection stood nice and firm. It’d be so easy to reach out and feel his length. God, I wanted to.
“Let me dry you.” He rolled up his sleeves, revealing his strong forearms.
“No,” I said, but I didn’t mean it.
“Oui.” He scooped up the towel.
Turning my back, I allowed him to towel-off my shoulders. Okay, I’ll be honest, my nipples pebbled. Fabian Henry turned me on. He was exotic. But I wasn’t going to let him know that.
“This week…I’ve washed your hair.” He ran his strong fingers up, then down, the back of my neck. My pulse quickened.
“Yup.” I tried to act as if this was just work. Inhaling the head scent of his tuberose, I knew Fabian hadn’t come to talk about Claire Le Femme.
“Every day I’ve dressed and undressed you.” The coarse cotton fibers raked over my backside, followed a gentle buff from his palm as he massaged, almost kneading at my flesh.
OMFG! My eyes rolled into the back of my head. On instinct, I spread my legs a smidge. Air, I need to breathe. God, it’s hot as hell in here. “Fabian—”
“All week I’ve looked after you and cared for you.” He spun me around. “And you go and give yourself to my boyfriend.”
Unable to make eye contact with him, I focused my attention on the marble floor. “I didn’t know.”
His fingers, the ones that every morning painted my face, pressed over my lips shushing me. “Don’t speak. Not yet. I’m not done.” He extended his hand and pointed to a nearby chair next to the sink.
Holding on to him, I stepped out of the tub and made my way over.
“Sit.” He ordered.
I did and then he dropped to his knees beside me.
“Every night I have painted these toes.” He lifted one foot up, dried my calf, and pressed his lips firmly on the sole of my foot. His full, beautiful lips kissed the tip of my big toe. Then he sucked it. Long. Deep. Up. Down. I imagined that’s how he sucked Leon’s dick.
My mouth hung open. What the frickin’ A was going on? Just as I went to pull myself up in the chair, his grip around my leg tightened.
“Umm.” I bit back a moan.