Authors: Lyra Marlowe
Their salads arrived, and John ordered a fresh round of
drinks.
“What would yours say?” Lucy asked.
“What?”
“Your card. What would it say on the back?”
John glanced at the hovering waiter and then back at her, grinning.
“You’re kind of a brat, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Didn’t Nolan warn you?”
“No.” The waiter finally retreated, and John changed the
subject. “How long have you known Nolan?”
Lucy sipped her drink. The look in her eyes said she knew
why he’d changed the subject, but she let it go. “Since before kindergarten. We
grew up next door to each other. I think we were probably six or seven before
we knew we weren’t brother and sister.”
“Hmmm.” Since John knew they’d later ended up in bed
together, it was an interesting statement. But he didn’t know if she knew that
he knew. “Has he always been so stubborn?”
“Yes. Always. When Nolan was six his dad bought him a
two-wheel bike, and he was determined to learn to ride it that day. He was out
there for eleven hours. My mom timed him. Eleven hours. He couldn’t even walk,
his legs were so shaky. But he learned to ride that damn bike in one day.”
John smiled. He knew his partner. He could see it all too
well in his mind. “We were out on a run this time…” he began.
They talked through dinner, first trading stories about
Nolan, then about themselves. She was a good talker, intelligent and witty, and
she was a good listener. They talked through dessert and coffee. Eventually,
the conversation turned back to Nolan. “How did his parents take it when they
found out he was gay?”
“They didn’t,” Lucy answered simply.
“They don’t know?” John was surprised. His partner had
always been completely open about his sexual orientation. But then, he was
hundreds of miles from his home town.
“His father died the summer before Nolan started college,
before he came out. He told his mother, but she just doesn’t believe it. She’s
not upset or angry, she just refuses to believe it’s anything but a stage.”
“Even after he lived with Kevin all those years?”
Lucy snarled. “That asshole. I never liked him.”
“Nolan did.”
“I know. And I smiled and was pleasant every time I saw him.
But I always knew he was an asshole. And by the way, thank you for taking care
of Nolan when they split. He told me you really went all out to be there for
him.”
John blushed. “I tried, but I don’t think I was really much
help.”
“You were there. That’s the best help there is for a broken
heart.”
Krulak stared at the candle in the center of the table. In a
weird way, his heart had broken too, for his friend’s grief. He wished he could
have done more. He wished there were bandages for broken hearts. Nolan was such
a good man, a giving man, and to have Kevin cheat on him like that…
He felt the heat rising in his cheeks again, this time in
anger. He shook his head. Lucy would not understand. John barely understood
himself.
He changed the subject again. “So his mom thinks he’s going
to wake up one morning and decide he really likes girls?”
Lucy nodded, graciously allowing him to steer the conversation
away from the painful topics. “She thinks he’ll end up with me. Of course, she
also thinks I’m still a virgin.”
With a little jolt, John realized that he’d been so involved
in having an actual conversation with the woman that he’d forgotten to flirt
with her. But her last statement seemed like an open invitation. “You mean
you’re not?” he teased with wide-eyed shock.
She bit her lower lip and shook her head solemnly. “But
sometimes I pretend to be.”
John grinned. She was flirting with him. He liked it. He
doubted it would go anywhere—in his mind, she still had PROPERTY OF NOLAN
stamped on her forehead—but it was pleasant anyhow. The evening had turned out
so much better than he’d expected, and he didn’t want it to be over.
Lucy folded her napkin beside her plate. “I know you worked
all day, I should let you get home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” he answered quickly. “Let’s go
dancing.”
* * * * *
The club was called Old School and it was just up the
street. The crowd on a weeknight was small. John and Lucy settled at a table
next to the dance floor, ordered a round of Scotch and hit the floor. They
generally played oldies and classics, but the first song was something new,
tencho rap with a skull-shattering bass line.
“This sucks,” Lucy pronounced. “Be right back.”
She crossed the floor and climbed the iron spiral staircase
to the DJ’s nest. She had, John reflected as he watched her, exceptional legs.
Swimmer’s legs, probably, trim and strong without being bulky. For one moment
he imagined those legs wrapped around his waist, holding him deep inside while
he…
He felt a stirring in his groin and made himself stop
thinking in that direction. He drifted back to their table and took a long pull
on his drink. Nolan’s oldest friend, he told himself firmly. Don’t forget it.
When he looked back, Lucy was leaning against the control
board, chatting with the DJ. She was smiling. He was nodding and gazing openly
at her breasts. They reached some agreement. The DJ reached for a new disc, and
Lucy came back down the steps.
If he’d been standing there, John thought ruefully, he could
have looked right up her dress.
She joined him at the table and downed her Scotch in one
shot. The rap faded and the opening beats of Bob Seger’s
Her Strut
began. The small crowd applauded. Lucy took John’s hand and dragged him back
out on the floor.
John was usually a little—okay, a lot—self-conscious about
his dancing. But the minute he saw her move, he knew nobody was going to be
watching him. She gave herself to the music, shaking, grinding, circling him.
Was she coming on to him? The stirring between his legs refused to subside.
Maybe he was imagining things. A girl could dance, couldn’t she, without it
being an invitation?
Seger faded. John sighed. Maybe he could sit down now, catch
his breath, get his hormones under control. But Seger was replaced by ZZ Top’s
Legs
,
and he knew they weren’t going anywhere.
His arousal grew, watching her move, and she seemed to be
dancing closer, brushing against him more often.
You’re imagining things,
he told himself. She moved in, brushed against his thigh.
Then, for one beat, she pressed against his groin.
Nolan’s friend, Nolan’s friend, Nolan’s friend
, he
chanted desperately to himself. The chanting had no effect.
ZZ Top faded away, replaced next by
You Can Leave Your
Hat On
. John couldn’t remember who recorded it. He could barely remember
his own name. Lucy put her hands on his shoulders, drew herself close to his
body, and John’s hands closed on her waist. He tried to maintain a little
distance, to keep her from actually rubbing against his bulge, but she was
having none of that. She pressed against him, her eyes meeting his, locking on,
as her breasts mashed against his chest, her nipples hard as tiny bullets.
On the next beat, she moved her feet between his, bringing
her pelvis firmly against his erection.
Still dancing, she gyrated against him without breaking
contact.
John closed his eyes and groaned. She brought her face next
to his, her breath hot in his ear. He knew it was idiotic, but he still thought
there was some chance he was misinterpreting. “I’m sorry,” he said softly,
pulling her even closer. “It’s just that you’re so…”
Lucy turned her head and kissed him square on the mouth. Her
tongue parted his teeth, and then it was everywhere, exploring, demanding, and
he opened his mouth wider, trying to get her farther inside, letting her devour
him while he invaded the sweet, Scotch-flavored heat of her mouth.
His erection was now undeniably full-blown, trapped between
their writhing bodies. John groaned again, lifting his mouth from hers. The
last rational fragment of his mind was screaming,
Nolan’sfriendNolan’sfriendNolan’sfriend
,
but the rest of him was on fire everywhere their bodies met.
She ran her tongue along the outer edge of his ear, then
took the lobe between her teeth and bit it, gently but sharply. Carefully, John
pulled away so he could look at her. Her eyes were bright, dancing, her lips
parted, a little swollen from the earlier kiss. There was no longer any
question. Shoulders to toes, their bodies pressed together.
But.
“Nolan,” John managed to gasp.
A little laughter flashed past her eyes. “Maybe next time,”
she answered lightly. “He said it was okay.”
“He what?”
“Do you have a condom?”
Bless the scouts
, John thought, feeling his mouth
fall open. He could only nod.
Lucy took the open mouth as an invitation and kissed him
again. This time her tongue was quicker, lighter, and John felt his knees go
weak.
“Come with me,” Lucy whispered. John wanted to tell her that
he wasn’t sure he could walk, but she had already turned, drawing him behind
her so that his erection was hidden against her shapely butt as they made their
way across the dance floor.
She led him under the DJ’s nest, back to a door marked
“Employees Only”, and through it to a starkly lit hallway.
There were several doors marked rest rooms, employee lounge,
emergency exit. This last door had the standard panic bar and a big yellow
warning—EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY. ALARM WILL SOUND.
“Umm, Lucy,” John ventured when he realized she was headed
for the exit door, “the alarm?”
She turned and placed her hand on the crotch of his pants,
her fingers spread wide to cup his whole erection. “It feels like an emergency
to me.” She backed into the door and pushed it open, leading John after her, quite
literally, by the balls.
No alarm sounded.
That lone corner of John’s mind that had not been overrun by
testosterone said,
John, pay attention. No alarm. She knew there’d be no
alarm.
They were in an alley. Lucy didn’t look around but turned
left, toward the back of the building.
She led him past the Dumpster and around the corner to an
even darker walkway at the back of the club, stopping directly under the fire
escape.
John
, the rational corner of his mind insisted,
she
knows where she’s going, she’s scouted this alley, she’s planned all of this,
John. Pay attention, she’s some kind of psycho and she’s got you by the—
Shut up
, the hormones roared back.
Nolan would
have told us if his friend was psychotic.
If he knew.
Lucy put her back to the wall and drew John to her, kissed
him again. Both of her hands roamed hungrily over the crotch of his pants.
It occurred to John, belatedly, that she meant to have him
right here. He looked up and down the little passageway. It was dark enough,
secluded, but he had a vivid, horrible flash of Captain Waldron’s face when he
heard John had been arrested for—
“Give me the condom,” Lucy said. She pushed him back a step
and bent down.
“Here?” John said. “Lucy, I can’t.” He was already fumbling
for his wallet, his body completely ignoring his common sense. “If we get
caught…”
He located the condom, put his wallet away, realized that
she had bent over to step out of her panties. She straightened, took his hands
and drew him close again, kissed him, murmured into his mouth, “Your choice.”
She placed his left hand between her legs, then took a step out so that his
palm was abruptly full of feverish, wet pussy. “But I’m going to go off in
about one minute, with or without you.” She kissed him again, grinding against
his hand. The tip of his middle finger slipped inside her and she grabbed him
with her inner muscles.
Lucy whimpered with pleasure.
“With me,” John managed to breathe, “oh God, with me.”
Her hands moved swiftly to his pants, belt, button, zipper,
briefs—always wear clean underwear, his mother had said, in case your best
friend’s best friend wants to bang you in an alley—and then his cock was free,
curving up toward her, the cool night air almost more stimulation than he could
stand. God, he felt like glass, if she pinged him just once he would…
She cupped him softly in one hand, stroking very gently. Her
hands were warm, barely damp with sweat, and her fingers were firm and certain.
In his hand she squirmed, refusing to release his finger, pushing against him
to drive it deeper still.
He heard a snap and realized that she had opened the condom
package with her free hand. Then both hands were on his cock, unrolling the
condom and stroking at the same time, bringing him right to the brink of his
control.
Abruptly, she released him. She reached over her head and
grabbed the last step of the fire escape with both hands, then pulled herself
up, finally releasing his finger. John took half a step closer and grabbed her
by the hips, guided her as she lowered herself directly onto his cock. She took
his full length in a single stroke, then pulled herself back up until only the
tip remained inside her. John thought he would scream when she descended a
second time. He shifted his grip, one arm across her back, the other firmly around
her waist, and jerked her away from the fire escape. Her arms tightened around
his neck to help support her weight, and then her legs came up, her thighs
squeezing John’s hip bones, but most of her weight still went into driving him
to the very hilt inside her.
It felt as if his whole body was erect. John fought for
control, tried to hold back his climax just one more stroke, just one more.
Lucy levered herself up and down on his stiff cock, riding him, and he pressed
her against the wall, shuddered hard as he pounded against her, one more
stroke, one more stroke, on fire now, no way to hold back…