baby steps - part I I woke to a blaring headache and the feeling that something had died in my mouth. I cracked my grainy eyes open and shut them immediately. It’s too damn sunny in this fucking apartment, then I remembered and groaned. My apartment wasn’t sunny in the morning; it faced another building. I must have gone out last night. I sat up, and groaned as a wave of nausea ran through me. I lunged off the bed and blindly followed the sound of running water. Thank God, I praised with my usual desperate religion when I found that the bathroom’s door was open, and within moments, my head was stuck in the toilet and I was puking my guts out. After ten minutes, I finally sat back on my heels, and grimaced, wiping my mouth. I glanced around, and noticed that the shower was no longer running. On the sink there lay toothpaste and an unopened packet of toothbrushes. Ninety-nine cent toothbrushes that made me yearn for my own automatic, battery-run, state-of-the-art toothbrush that kept my teeth clean and gums healthy. However, beggars could not be choosers, and at least I wasn’t going home with vomit still swimming in my mouth after being kicked out of the apartment I woke up in. I went back to the bedroom and climbed into my clothes. I could practically feel the collective grime on my body festering and creating maggots. I walked down the hallway, wondering where the owner of the apartment was, when I heard the words, “Dave, sit.” I looked to my right to see the kitchen, fully equipped with a table, shiny kitchenware, and a man with black, wavy hair that reached the nape of his neck, wearing black glasses, a white button down shirt on, blue slacks, grey socks, and a blue tie standing before an oven, cooking. Damn, not again. Not another man. There were two seats at the table, and I sat in one of them. Within seconds, he placed a plate with eggs, two strips of bacon, a glass of water and two pills in front of me. After grimacing, wondering how I could eat with a queasy stomach, I tried the eggs and practically swallowed the pills and the whole meal dry. I sat back and noticed that my headache had receded and that the man hadn’t eaten. He had watched me do so, leaning back against the counter with his arms folded. When he saw that he had my attention, he walked forward, brushing against me as he moved the silverware out of the way, and pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the table, his legs dangling on either side of me, his ‘house guest.’ I swallowed. This man was very, very sexy, and as soon as the thought came into my head, I looked away, guilty. I looked up again, and lost myself in grey eyes hidden behind lenses when I heard a soft, deep voice say, “I know it’s not my problem, and you probably don’t want to hear this, but I’m going to say it. You’re a closet case. It takes kegs of beers for you to even admit that you might be gay. You’re not even bi. I know because I’ve been watching you, and, believe it or not, I’ve liked what I’ve seen. But I’ve also seen the engagement ring you have on. I’m giving you an ultimatum, because I know who your fiancé is, and I really like her. So here it is; either you get your shit together and take your first baby steps out of that comforting closet of yours, or I tell her that you are attracted with people that have flat chests, short, spiky hair and dicks.” I could only stare. This was . . . scary. He didn’t know this guy. Didn’t know his name. Had never seen him before, and here he was, dictating my life. I opened my mouth and said, “There’s no way in hell I’m gay.” The man lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? People so drunk that they can’t muster the strength to cross their eyes don’t lie. You did things to me last night that you never would have done when you were sober, and guess what; you enjoyed every single minute of it just as much as I did,” with every word, he leaned closer, until our noses were almost touching. “No,” I breathed, beginning to panic and flushing when I realized that my cock was pressing up against my jeans. “Oh, yes. You’re hot in bed. With other men. I rather doubt that you were anywhere near is wild with another woman as you had been with me last night. Well,” he leaned back and I swallowed, “As I’ve said, I know and like your fiancé, and I know several men that would be just perfect for her. I also know some that would be perfect for you.” He looked away, and said, “One of them’s me,” he looked back, his gray eyes dark and piercing, “however, I don’t think you’ll like me much after this.” The man leaned forward again and my breath hitched, but he pulled back almost immediately, holding up a business card. “Just in case you do.” He dropped the card on the table, hopped off, and walked out of the kitchen. I listened hard, spellbound, and heard the man put on a jacket, or blazer, shoes, and open the door, calling, “But don’t take too long,” and the door closing. I swallowed, eyes watered, and nearly lunged for the card. Christopher Lejeune. ~*~*~ It was in Starbucks, a few blocks down from the building where I worked, where I told Josephine the news in front of her best friend, Arnie, a coworker. I didn’t really want to tell her in front of someone, but considering that this would really hurt her, I figured she would need someone to console her. Arnie, a man, was the girlfriend she never head. Her words, not mine. I sighed. Baby steps, get on with it. “I love you, Josephine, I really do, however, there’s something that I want to tell you. But first, ah, never mind, I just have something to tell you and I beg you not to blow up in this very public place. Please, please, please.” I couldn’t ask her about Christopher Lejeune. I still hadn’t been able to deal with it. She blinked at me and gave a tentative, almost hopeful smile. “Let me guess, you cheated on me.” “No!” I frowned. “Yes. Just, not with a woman.” “Not with a woman? What’s that supposed to mean?” I dreaded this part. I didn’t want to reveal himself as gay, but I said, “I think I might be gay,” nonetheless. Out of the corner of my eye, Arnie’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god! Then why are you dating me?” I swallowed. “I couldn’t admit it.” To my surprise, she nodded and smiled. “I understand. You know my brother, Cole? The one I told you about?” she waited for my nod before she continued, “Well, he’s gay. I needed to practically move heaven and hell to get him to admit it, but he did. Luckily, I did it right before he left for college. Unfortunately, his heart was broken several times there.” Her smile faded, and she looked off into space for few minutes before refocusing on me, the man that was supposed to be marrying her in three months. “I understand, Dave, I really do, and while I don’t like that you led me on for so long, at least you didn’t realize it after we married.” Okay, so maybe her heart wouldn’t be that broken. “I love you, Josephine, I wasn’t lying about that. But, I love you as a sister.” She smiled. “And I love you as one, too, Dave, and I am officially letting you free of our engagement. Wait, I’ll do that only on one condition.” I smiled, knowing that it wouldn’t be anything bad, and nodded for her to go on. “Well, the first is that you have to still be my friend, ‘cause you’re loads of fun to be around, and that, you’ll be just as understanding when I tell you my news.” “What news?” “Well, I don’t know how to say this. Cole actually talked to me about it, told me that I simply must tell you, and that everything will turn out all right in the end. I’m not really sure, I mean, you are . . . gay. And I respect that, I really do. I accept your sexual preference with open-” “Josephine.” “Yes?” “What is it that you want to tell me?” “Wait.” “What?” “What did you mean that you cheated on me, just not with women? Have you been sleeping around with men? Oh, well, duh, you’re gay, right? Okay, um, how’d you cheat on me?” “Um, when I got really, really drunk, never the same man twice, and I’ve never seen any of them again.” “Oh, okay then. Well, we have something in common.” “What do we have in common?” “I’ve also been fooling around with men. Only, it was really one man, and one cup of Sprite which isn’t alcoholic, generally, but I’m pretty sure it was spiked, if a just opened bottle can be spiked, and, I really like him, and I want to date him, but I thought that it was just wedding day jitters, and that I’d get over him, but I’d get hot whenever he looked at me, and he is really good in bed.” She ran out of steam and cast an apologetic glance at me. Now Arnie stared at her. I pursed his lips and nodded. “Well, it would be really inane for me to get angry at you.” “I agree.” “You might.” “Of course.” “I gotta go.” “I’m sorry.” “Goodbye.” “Drive home safely,” she said. “I will.” “I love you.” “Ditto.” “Don’t be angry.” “I’m not.” “You’re sure?” “No,” he responded. “Well, then, please don’t beat up Frederick.” “Frederick?” I shouted. I think Arnie might have echoed me, but my voice was definitely the one that carried. Several people in the place turned to look at us. “Yes, Frederick,” I could swear she looked smug. “Frederick’s a fucking womanizer!” “No he’s not!” “Yes he is!” “Why do you say that?” “Because I know!” “And what kind of evidence is that?” I glared and walked out, muttering ‘Frederick’ again and again beneath my breath. ~*~*~ I, as a rule, do not project an image of myself as uptight. Even though I am. It had taken me two weeks to make myself stop fooling myself and finally begin to notice guys. Immediately, I realized that, with my oppressed sexuality rising up, I lusted after anything that even had the remote possibility of having a dick hanging between his legs and wasn’t a hundred pounds overweight. The exception; Frederick. Frederick was a jerk, a bastard, a son of a bitch, and an idiot. He had gotten more sedate over the past weeks, but he was still all four of those things. Though, his features were handsome. My hatred of Frederick started in my first day of work. I had come in, hoping to finally do something productive in my life, and was placed in a cubicle just opposite of Frederick’s. I had been searching for a bug in a malfunctioning computer system when I heard, “Listen, babe, you’re cute and all, but I do not want to date you. . . . No, I’m not dating anyone. . . . I’m just not the type of man that wants to be tied down. . . . Babe . . . babe . . . babe! Listen! You want the truth? Fine! All you are is a piece of ass to me! I’ve fucked you, and now I’m moving on to greener pastures! I don’t even want to see ever you again! I didn’t want to tell you this, so don’t start crying. . . . Ugh, whatever. Welcome to the scene, babe.” I had turned to see Frederick turn off his cell phone, smiling. And now, I wanted blood. There was no way that my innocent little Josephine was going to be hurt by that womanizing, pompous ass. I stalked over to his cubicle, and grinned predatorily when I noticed that the devil was already in his work place. I walked over, nodded when Frederick noticed me, grabbed him by the collar, and lifted him out of his seat. “Hear me now, you fucking piece of shit; if you hurt Josephine, at all. I don’t care if you do it by refusing to buy her favorite bag of chips for her or break her heart, know this; if or when it happens, I will hunt you down, and skin you. Your pretty little face is going to look nice mounted above my bed.” Frederick sneered, “So you can jerk off to it, you fag?” “Cheap shot, Freddy,” I said as his blood ran cold. He couldn’t know. “Oh, yeah? Then why’d she come to kind, understanding, loving Frederick when her little Davey Wavey wasn’t giving her what she needs? Or are you just impotent?” I snarled, wondering what I could send at him for throwing at me that I hadn’t been able to force myself to sleep with Josephine when I remembered something. /“You did things to me last night that you never would have done when you were sober, and guess what; you enjoyed every single minute of it just as much as I did.”/ And then I smiled and did what he had wanted to do to Frederick for the years that we had been working in the same company. I decked him. ~*~*~ I knocked, telling myself that I could do this. Then again, this was like returning to the scene of the crime. Damn, fucking damn. Baby steps. I should take baby steps. I shouldn’t, couldn’t back out. This was important. Christopher opened the door, smiled, and moved so I could come in. “Um, thanks. Has a really long time passed, Christopher?” I asked, as I walked into the corridor “No, have you found yourself? Call me Chris.” “Yeah. Okay.” “Do you like yourself?” “Pretty much.” “Anything specific?” “No.” “How’s your fiancé doing?” I held up his hand, “She’s been relegated to friend. I’m worried about her choice in men.” “I’ll help her out.” “Thanks. Though, I hope you’ll do it soon. I now have to take Anger Management because of my dislike for him.” “What did you do?” “Punched him. In the nose. Broke it. And I’m not being funny when I say, I seriously do not know why my boss is so angry at me punching that jerk. I swear some people cheered when I did it.” Chris smiled, and closed the door. When he turned back, his face was serious. “So, why have you come here today, Dave? What do you want? Burning hot sex? A relationship? Or do you just want to know how I know your fiancé?” ‘A relationship’ and ‘How do you know my fiancé’ warred in my mind, but what came out was, “Sex.” I blinked, and blushed. “I mean, I want-” I was shut off by Chris’ warm, awfully inviting mouth. I backed him up into the wall, pressing against him, rubbing my growing erection against his. I felt, rather than heard, Chris moan. Felt it reverberate through his chest and back. I tore my mouth from his and gritted my teeth when I felt a hand snake below my belt and cup me. Moaning, I began to kiss his neck, biting, suckling, anything that might cause pleasure, and hit on a hot spot when I bit the earlobe. I could feel his hand massaging me, and wanted to be closer to Chris. I desperately tried to unbutton his shirt, but only succeeded in ripping off a few buttons. I abandoned that idea, and went for his pants. I had more success there, and in moments, I was pumping a cock and sober for the first time. I shivered when I heard Chris moan, and felt his hands move around my waist to squeeze my ass. Time swam, I was lost in his and my sighs, moans, groans, the way his body moved against mine, the way his neck curved, how he thrashed his head, how smooth he was, how wonderful it felt to hold him, to feel him. How glorious it was to be with a man. All too soon, Chris cried out and warm, sticky fluid flooded my hand. His knees buckled and he leaned on me for support, trembling. We stayed like that for a few moments, Chris regaining his bearings and me holding him, stroking his back and hair, until he picked up his head and said, “Sorry about that. You were the last person I’ve slept with, and, as I’ve said, you were awfully good.” “I was drunk.” Chris shrugged and smiled. “Guess you’re a natural. I’d really love to see more of what you can do when you’re not drunk as hell.” I grinned and leaned down to kiss him, a fleeting touch. “I’d love to see more, too.” He frowned and shook his head suddenly. “Actually, never mind.” “Huh?” “It’s your first time doing this when sober. It’s gotta be all about you, babe.” “What? No. I don’t need that.” Chris grinned, kissed me passionately before pulling back and saying, “Oh, but I do.” He pushed me, and dropped to his knees. He was experienced, and I cried out as my member was suddenly freed and engulfed in heat. Heat that enveloped me to the core. I braced myself against the wall, fighting desperately to keep from grabbing Chris’ head and fucking his face. It had scared the few girls I’d been with, and I didn’t want that happening now. I felt the suction, felt Chris retreat until only my head was between his lips and breathed out through his nose sharply, sending a rush of air to caress me. I keened and leaned forward until my forehead touched the wall as Chris bobbed on my dick, stopping every once in a while to breathe, to hold me within him, to torture me, until my hands grabbed his hair and forced his head up and down a few times before impaling his face on me, and letting go of myself. I stood rigid, head thrown back, eyes closed tight. I could feel Chris swallowing everything, milking him. When it was over, I drew Chris up to my level. Cuddling into him, I said, “Well, damn. Why the fuck couldn’t you open my eyes sooner?” ~*~*~ Sometime during the night, Chris turned to me and said, “Fuck me.” We teased and stroked each other, then Chris turned around, handing me KY jelly. I lubed my fingers, and inserted them into his asshole, almost moaning at the velvety furnace that I had delved into. I fingered him for what seemed like hours, until he was begging to be filled. I stayed where I was. I was anticipating and fearing the next step. When Chris called me a bloody bastard and then went off to in another language, I rolled on a condom and pushed into Chris, moaning. He was so tight, so good. I hit his prostate and knew it by his sudden shriek and began driving into it. I felt him moving against me, moaning, groaning, wanting more of me, and came. We back on the bed, with Chris whimpering, moving against the bed, begging to come himself. I knew, and rested for a few minutes before turning over on my back, taking him with me, and wrapped my hand around Chris’ erection. Chris sighed, murmuring, already half asleep when he came. I chuckled before curling around him and falling asleep. ~*~*~ “You know, last night, you started speaking in another language,” I said as I sat down at the kitchen table. “Yeah, French.” “Why?” “I’m French.” “Wow.” “Yeah, I came to America when I was five, when my French mother met my American stepfather, and four years ago I went to France to teach English.” “Why?” “Felt like getting away from my family,” Chris said, and began transferring food from pans to plates. “Big one?” “No, just an overbearing one.” “Hey, you said that you’d been watching me the first time we met.” “I was.” “Like a stalker?” “No, as a friend of your fiancé’s. Josephine told me all about you.” “And you just decided to follow me around?” “I didn’t follow you around.” “Then how’d I end up in your bed?” I asked, watching Chris’ butt when he leaned down to set the table. “I came to the club once, and you were there. You were drunk and went home with a guy. I saw you several more times and each time you were drunk and left with a guy.” “So you decided that it was your turn?” “You don’t think highly of me, do you? I didn’t decide that it was my turn. The plan was that I’d get you to my apartment, sober you up, and talk some sense into you.” “And we ended up fucking, how?” “The plan was going well. You were in my apartment, and I was heading toward the kitchen to get coffee for you. I looked back, and there you were, naked in the middle of my living room, and most definitely horn. You could’ve tempted an angel, and I’m nowhere near saintly,” Chris chuckled. “Huh, how long have you known that you’re gay?” “Practical forever. I was a very randy teenager?” “Did your parents know?” “No, um, I had this habit as a teenager that I do not have now.” “What habit?” “I’d tell every different lover of mine a different name so that when they called my house, my mom would tell them that it’s the wrong number.” “So you wouldn’t get caught?” I asked, impressed. “Yeah.”

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