Chimera (20 page)

His voice thunders through the room. “Lie back, Bastian.” Submitting to him unconsciously, I mindlessly do as he tells me. She spins around to face me before she slides back down on my cock.

She looks me straight in the eyes and asks, “Wanna try something new?”

“This is all pretty new to me already,” I slur. “But hell, why not. I’m game.”

In the blink of an eye, David stands with his cock in my face, his hard, perfect fucking cock. She whispers to me, “Taste him, Bastian.”

I scrunch my face up in rejection when her hand surrounds him, teasing his head against my lips, the precum glistening on the tip. I open, and allow her to feed me her husband’s dick, indulging in the salty treat. I almost choke on his enormity as he slides in, taking my hair in his fist. She leans back to continue her ride. Before I know it, my eyes close, and I stroke his cock as if it’s my own, with mine in his wife’s pussy. When his body starts to tense, he pulls away, and my eyes open to see what I’d done wrong. I watch him move to the end of the bed, my view of him clearing as Emily flattens herself against my chest still pumping my cock in her.

When he stands between my legs, instinctively, I stop fucking her, waiting for him to make his move and hope it’s not a sucker punch to my dick. I feel her legs spread, and he slides in her ass. The sensation of feeling another man’s cock in her ass is odd. The membrane separating the two of us as thin as paper. His dick is essentially rubbing against my own. The space is ungodly tight. I wonder how, between the two of us, our girth isn’t tearing her apart. But she’s in fucking heaven.

We move in tandem, she screams in ecstasy, and begs us to keep going…barely able to speak. She’s gasping as her husband takes her ass and I her pussy, panting for more. I lose focus on her pleasure, fixating solely on my own, loving the feel of his cock against mine. It’s like getting a hand job while fucking. The ridge of his head massages my cock from within.

There’s such an intense gratification when my eyes meet his. We’re both oblivious to her even between us in some grotesque morphed way. I watch him as he fucks her and concurrently takes my virginity in a completely different way. I’m unable to curb my explosion any longer. My impending detonation is almost painful. I grab her ass, and sink my nails deep into her skin to draw her forcefully to me. My back arches as my body spasms. I feel him come with me, the change in temperature definite. His sperm and mine mixed in different parts of her body creates an undeniable heat.

My body finally stills, my penis remains inside her. My eyes have never left his, nor his mine. He pulls away from her following my gaze as he walks to the bathroom, finally breaking contact when he closes the door.

She climbs off me and says, “That was seriously profound.” This irritating valley-girl replaces the classy, seemingly well-educated woman I spent a few hours with a couple nights ago.

Encouraging her the rest of the way off me, I’m finally free of her confines. Suddenly sober, I collect my clothes and pull on my pants as I escape the room. I’m fleeing her, and whatever the hell it is I just did with her husband. Holy shit. I sucked another man’s dick. The sheer joy I felt doing so mortifying. With the size of his cock, stretching my mouth and the taste of his juice on the back of my throat. I loved having him in my mouth while I simultaneously hated him for the experience. I don’t even know what to call the double penetration action. I completely forgot she was even in the room as if I were fucking her husband. The thought quickly crosses my mind: I wanted to fuck her husband. I wanted to feel him against my cock. For a brief moment, I had wished her not to be involved. If he had tried to take me, I might have let him. In the moment, it felt good, incredibly fucking good. Now…now I want to throw up and scour my skin with a Brillo pad. Holy fuck, what have I done?

“Bastian!” she calls after me, the confusion obvious in her voice. “Bastian, come back!”

I don’t stop.

I don’t look back.

By the time I’m down the hall, I break into a full-on run. Finally behind the closed door of my room, I secure the lock, my back against the door, I sink to the floor, horrified by what I’ve just done. I can smell her all around me. Closing my lids, I see him staring at me, fucking me with his eyes. She wasn’t present for him, either. I begin murmuring to myself, “No, no, no,” over and over as though if I tell myself it didn’t happen enough it will make it reality. Running to the bathroom, I purge the contents of my stomach.

I strip the rest of my tux off, and vow to burn it when I get home. The thought of wearing the damn thing tomorrow makes me ill. I take the hottest shower I can stand. Surely burning off the top layer of skin and scrubbing with the washcloth my host provided will make the filth disappear, but it doesn’t. Resigning myself to living with this for the evening, I towel off to climb in bed. My phone. Fuck, my phone has been sitting here for hours. Seven missed calls from Nate and countless text messages.

E
very message is the same
. His voice panicked as he begs me to call him. The last one says, “Damn, Bastian. It’s fucking midnight. Where the hell are you? Call me back.”

The last call came in almost three hours ago.

“Where in the actual fuck have you been, Bastian?”

“Hey to you, too, Nate.”

“Seriously, asshole, where have you been?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, and quite frankly, I’m not ready to relive it in story. Are you okay?”

“Well, let’s see. I got here late Thursday night with your pseudo girlfriend, who, upon checking in, immediately disappeared. She returned about an hour later wanting to go to some bar. I figure what the hell. It’s New York, a semi-vacation, so I agree, even though it’s late and I had been up since five and worked all day before flying three hours, to endure an hour cab ride, and then make my way to our room. The bitch fucking leaves the bar with some guy I never saw and have no clue if she even knew. She didn’t bother telling me. She just left, Bastian. She left a bar in Manhattan with a presumed stranger. I blow her phone up for an hour before she answers to tell me she will be back to the hotel
later
. By the way, she didn’t come back. I didn’t hear from her again until about nine thirty tonight. Twenty-four mind-numbing hours later when she finally comes waltzing in the door, she offers no explanation, just tells me she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need a babysitter.”

“She what? Surely you just misunderstood something somewhere.” This sounds nothing like Sera. She’s never reckless like that.

“Swear to God, Bastian. The bitch needs a goddamn babysitter and it isn’t going to be me. I was completely freaked out thinking something happened to her in the twenty-four hours she was gone. She didn’t even offer an apology, instead copped an attitude when she walked in before she demanded I take her to eat.”

“Had she been drinking? That’s not like her at all, none of it is.”

“She looked like absolute hell but I can’t confirm if she’d been drinking or not but her snotty attitude didn’t change any after feeding her ungrateful ass. I’m done, B. She’s on her own the rest of this trip.”

“Is she there now?”

“No!” he hollers emphatically into the phone. “She left around eleven without so much as a goodbye or the basic human decency to tell me when she’d be back or where she was going. What the fuck do you see in her? She’s nothing like Sylvie. I don’t even see a resemblance physically anymore.”

He doesn’t really dislike Sera; he’s upset because he thought he was going to have to tell me something happened to someone else he knows I love. That alone was more than he was able to handle. Her disrespect for someone she is traveling with is more of an annoyance than anything. Nate had extended her an olive branch and she just broke the fucker and threw it in his face. He won’t offer her another one.

Okay, maybe he really does dislike her. Fuck if I know. Right now I don’t give two squirts of rat piss if he does or doesn’t.

“I don’t know, Nate. I’m starting to wonder if I really know anyone.”

“What are you talking about? Where have you been anyway?” He’s starting to calm down. Nate’s like a girl that way; he needs to get it off his chest then he’s fine. He doesn’t need a solution, just an ear to listen.

“You don’t want to know. Look, if you’re okay, I just want to go to bed and forget tonight ever happened.”

“Yeah, I’m good but how did the exhibit go?”

“Amazingly well. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Can you pick me up in the morning? Ferry’s been totally undependable and I don’t want to let Aaron down.”

“Yeah, I’ll come get you for breakfast around lunchtime. What’s the address?”

Address in hand, Nate handled, I throw up a little in my mouth one last time before I close my eyes.

I
t’s
close to noon when I wake. I feel like total ass, which is putting it lightly. The remnants of last night are still fresh in my mind with the taste of vomit on morning breath. The stench of alcohol has oozed from my pores. We won’t talk about the way my head pounds, the nausea that threatens to boil over, or the overall clammy feeling challenging my equilibrium. I send Nate a text to find out how far out he is. With thirty minutes, I pray a shower and a toothbrush will make me feel halfway human. Nine hours of sleep wasn’t enough to do the trick.

Clean clothes, fresh teeth, and a cup of coffee in hand courtesy of the in-house chef, I’m close to ready to embark on the day. I beg a God I’m not sure even exists to help me make it through the next twelve hours. I groan thinking about tonight. The crowd is likely to be twice the size of last night’s and the people of a much more varied background. The conversation alone will be exhausting. I always have to be on top of my game, and play by the rules of society to attempt to be well liked so people will find favor in my art. It’s all bullshit by my estimation. Fuck, I need an attitude check before I step foot in Le Musee.

Nate doesn’t look much better than I feel. “You gonna tell me what you did last night?” he asks in the car.

“Are you ever going to shut up if I don’t?”

“Likely not.” At least he’s honest.

“I need food before I can embark on last night’s festivities. Food with copious amounts of grease.”

I can see how Nate and I might appear oddly close to an outsider. I’m definitely the girl in the fucking relationship and a seemingly pregnant one at that. The spread in front of me will either cure my hangover or bring on a bout of vomiting that will flush out any alcohol that might still linger in my system.

He gives me more time than I expect. “Spill it, Bastian. It’s obviously bad or you wouldn’t look like something the dog threw up or avoid talking about it.”

“It was just really out of character for me.”

“What was? I feel like I’m pulling teeth here. Can you give me a bone? Help me out. I don’t even know what questions to ask.”

Preparing myself mentally, I let out a long, exasperated sigh. “It started Tuesday night. Ferry kind of set me up with a girl he knows. Emily.”

“That’s great. Did you guys go out?”

“No. It wasn’t like that at all. The guy’s house we’re staying in had a lifestyle party Tuesday night. She was at the party but not
with
anyone. Long story short, I ended up back in her room.”

“And? Nothing you’ve said so far has ‘horrible night’ written on it. I mean other than she knows Ferry, but you already know my thoughts on him and I’m getting the impression you’re starting to feel the same.”

“And I fucked her!” My voice carries a little further than intended as other patrons scowl at me.

“Again, what’s the problem? Single guys have sex with women, Bastian. It happens.”

I shake my head, not able to convey my frustrations. “She tells me
after
the fact she’s fucking married. You know that’s not my scene. I never would have touched her if I had known she was even seeing someone seriously.”

“Okay, that’s not cool but on her part, not yours. How did this carry over to last night? That was four days ago.”

“I didn’t finish telling you about her marriage of convenience.” I tell him what she told me about him being gay, her preference for women, she’s a switch, et cetera. “She and her husband, David, showed up at Le Musee last night.”

“Oh shit! But you said she’d told him what her plans were before they happened, so was he cool?”

“Oh, he was cool with it. So cool with it he wanted to watch it happen again.”

“Whoa, what? A gay guy wanted to watch you fuck his lesbian wife?”

“Ironic, huh?”

“I’m thinking what’s going to be more ironic is you’re about to tell me you did it.”

Slowly, I nod my head in confirmation, unable to express the specifics of what actually happened.

“You wanna tell me the details?” He won’t pry. I know he won’t but I don’t keep secrets from Nate. This one’s huge. The question becomes how honest am I going to be.

“Not particularly.”

“But you’re going to?” He leans forward on his forearms and ignores the food in front of us.

Swallowing hard, I admit, “I don’t want you to think differently of me, Nate.”

“Damn, this must’ve been one ostentatious evening.”

“Hardly. I wish it had just been for show, then I could explain it away. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, Nate. Days earlier, I fucked another man’s wife. Twice. And she sucked my dick. They offered me a ride back to Shawn’s after the opening. Liquor started flowing. By the time we got back to the house, I was pretty well lit. Actually, I was hammered when they asked me to come to their room.”

“Okay, so you went to their room and I assume you both had sex with Emily?”

I don’t know how to explain to him it was so much more than that. Sometimes it’s easier to just bite the bullet and spit it out. Remembering where I am this time, I lower my voice and say, “I enjoyed it.”

“That’s what has you so upset? You enjoyed tag teaming a woman with another guy?” He leans back in the booth and laughs at me. When he finally stops, he sees I’m not digging this moment quite as much as he is. Grinding my teeth together, I’m sure he sees the muscles in my jaw flexing. “What exactly did you enjoy?” The humor’s gone.

I drop my head in shame, unable to look at my best friend as I reveal one of two ugly truths.

“Wait, did he…” his voice trails off.

“No! No. I didn’t have sex with him or him with me. I mean not just the two of us.”

“Then why are you freaking out?”

“It was like she wasn’t there, Nate. He started off in the corner, in a chair, she rode me but faced him. Then he stood and she sucked his dick while I fucked her.”

“Okay, so she’s a little kinky.”

“She turned to face me and spread her ass for him. When he was in her…” I’m desperately trying to put this as delicately as possible, without giving him gory details. “When we were both in her, it was like she wasn’t there.”

“But she was.”

“Yeah, she was. She was between us but just physically. I could feel him inside her. It was like he was touching me. I could feel his heat, his dick on mine, stroking me.”

“And you liked it.” I watch his face for judgment but see none.

I nod. He sits silently, waiting. He knows I have more to say. He’ll wait all day for me to say it in my way, my time. Time seems to stand still, I’m not sure how much of it has passed. It could have been thirty seconds or five minutes. It’s not going to get any easier. “Our eyes locked. The moment became ours. His wife wasn’t a part of the experience. It was the most intense sexual experience I’ve ever had. Pure pleasure. Hedonistic. I loved it.”

“So what’s the problem?” He really doesn’t get it.

“We came together, for each other. It was intense. So much so as soon as it was over I had to get out. Like DEF CON FIVE. Evacuate the premises. I scrubbed my skin raw in an attempt to rid myself of the filth when I got back to my room. It’s sick.”

“So you enjoyed having sex with a woman and another man. Big deal, Bastian. It’s not like he fucked you in the ass. It was a new experience. You haven’t had many of those. Embrace them. Enjoy them. You’re making up for six years of loss.”

My frustration level is at an all time high. He can’t seem to grasp why I’m so tormented by my actions. Making it real and seething through my teeth, I release the words. “I sucked his dick, Nate!”

That did it.

That effectively silenced my best friend. I pound my fist on the table, disrupting the plates and silverware, startling him.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks as he throws a wad of cash on the table ensuring it’s more than enough to cover the meal we didn’t eat. He doesn’t wait for an answer. I watch him scoot out of the booth. I can’t tell if it’s disgust I see, if he’s upset that he thinks I’m gay, or is as confused as I’m currently feeling. I mentally kick myself for losing touch with his reality. Not that many years ago I would have known exactly what is going through his mind. Now, I’m lost.

He doesn’t start the car. Just stares out the windshield. I do the same not wanting to push him to a point he snaps at me. He’s always my constant, my salvation. If he bails on me, I’m fucked.

After a prolonged period of time, he finally offers his answer. “It doesn’t make you gay, Bastian. I know that’s what you’re thinking. You’ve suffered for a really long time. For the first time in years, not only are you feeling again, but you’re experiencing physical satisfaction. You’re exploring who you are, testing waters. Most people do this shit in their early twenties but you had Sylvie. You’re living your teen years in your thirties. It’s okay. You’re free to be whoever you want to be. Don’t box yourself in thinking because you enjoyed a night of sexual deviance that makes you homosexual.” He stops. He pauses to ensure I hear what he says next. Turning to me, he waits until I make eye contact. “Regardless of your sexual preference, you’re my best friend. You have been since birth and you will be until death. Nothing will ever change that.”

I don’t have any words. He said the ones I needed to hear. He confirmed what I needed to know. He always has been and always will be my best friend, my brother. I bob my head in understanding and acknowledgment.