Pisces: From Behind That Locked Door (3 page)

"We're working out together," Jay said tightly.

"But you want to do more than that with him, don't you? Hey, don't get all defensive. I'm just trying to have a conversation."

"About something that is none of your business."

"Are you going to go next week? Seriously now, Jay."

"Yes."

"No offense, but I'll believe it when I see it. Oh! Maybe I
should
see it."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's easy enough to prove if you're working out. Me and Amy can drop by on Monday to give you encouragement. We'll be your cheerleaders."

"No."

"Why not? What if I just move my regular work out time to... when? About five-thirty?"

"Do whatever you want to do, Jeni. I don't care."

"I'll talk to Stephen about it tomorrow some time."

Nothing could keep Jay from spending an hour with Stephen--except Jeni Jacobson. He'd once considered moving all the way to Wisconsin to get away from her, and now she was just popping up in his apartment like she owned the place and talking about Stephen like they were great personal friends. Was it too late to transfer to a school out of state? And if he did, would that mean she won?

"I don't care."

"Uh huh. Well, more power to you, then. I mean, I admire people with so much... determination."

She put just enough venom in the final word to sting his pride. Well, what was left of it. Having programmed most of Jay's buttons in elementary school, she certainly knew how to push them now. Retaliating wouldn't do any good. If he tried, her claws would come out, and she'd find the most vulnerable part of him to slice and flay. Instead of telling her to shove it up her ass, Jay made his escape, his pulse hammering. All he wanted to do was strip his clothes and climb into the shower to let the hot water pound on his sore muscles for the next hour. That was it. He'd had no greater plans or hopes than that. But now that was ruined. Whether he stayed under the water for fifteen minutes or two hours, it'd all be the same miserable thing. He hated that the sight of Jeni was powerful enough to ruin his entire day, but she'd infected him with her toxin when they were kids, and he saw her on campus just enough to poke at those wounds until they flared with pain again. Amy, being his roommate and his best friend, fucking
knew
that. Were they dating now? Could he expect to see Jeni sitting on his couch two or three times a week?

He would move before he put up with that. He'd live in a cardboard box in Pioneer Park with the rest of the bums before he voluntarily tolerated Jeni invading his own home. It was bad enough that he had to see her occasionally at the Center. The image of Jeni and Stephen laughing with each other slapped him across the face, and he realized it was an inevitability.
I can't even imagine what Jay is like at the gym. Is it as hilarious as I think it must be?
Then Stephen would grin at the memory of Jay huffing and puffing and admit it was probably
more
hilarious than Jeni expected.

I'll talk to him about it tomorrow.
What did that mean? Why did she see Stephen on Saturdays? Were they on some planning committee? It wouldn't be too difficult to find out what meetings were happening on campus, but that might look a little too much like stalking. Jay could justify following Stephen to the gym, but tracking down Jeni just to make sure the two of them didn't actually talk was just a step too far. Maybe it wasn't some sort of meeting. Maybe they were actually friends. Jeni wasn't a first class bitch all of the time. She couldn't have been because she did actually have friends, and she was quite popular. If she were straight, she'd be called a slut to her face. Could lesbians be sluts? He supposed it was technically possible. They could definitely be bitches, as Jeni proved every single day of her life.

Jay wanted to say that Stephen wasn't like that, but everybody was like that on some level. Jay understood the humor inherent in the situation, he just wished somebody would take him seriously instead of see him as the butt of the joke. And people
should
take him seriously. If academic achievement and publications counted for anything in the club scene, Jay would have his pick of partners. But nobody cared if he'd published his first article while he was still an undergrad, or if he'd been invited to speak at several conferences in the past year, or that his students always showed consistent and even radical improvement.

He peeled his sweaty clothes off, tossed them into the hamper, and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. The water burned the back of his hand as he tested the temperature, but that was exactly the way he liked it. Steam quickly gathered in the small room, billowing up around him and partially obscuring his reflection. He studied himself through the thickening air, trying to imagine defined muscles in place of the flab, stretch marks, and acne scars. How could any amount of working out change the basic reality of his body? Even if he somehow managed to lose the weight, he'd still have scars on his shoulders and a mole on his chest that almost looked like a third nipple, and random sprouts of long, thick hair.

Jay stroked his cock, pulling the skin up over the head and then sliding his palm back, revealing every inch of his shaft. He knew enough from porn and random locker room talk that his cock was perfectly normal, and maybe even better than normal. He lost the genetic lottery in a lot of ways, but he was actually rather blessed in that area. It was only too bad that nobody would take his word for it. He was sure there were several gay men of his acquaintance who would quite enjoy playing with his cock, but it didn't do to think about that too much since he would never know. It was a little ironic, considering he might as well not have a cock at all.

The water burned him when he stepped under the steady spray, but Jay didn't adjust the temperature. Maybe if he had it hot enough, it would scald away the aches and pains, the sweat and stink of humiliation. He couldn't even remember if he'd been optimistic about working out with Stephen. Jeni had completely obliterated all of that. He hated that she had so much power over him, but it would probably take years of serious therapy to undo all the destruction and damage she'd done in the past fifteen years. Of course, never seeing her again would be the most appropriate first step in his recovery, but that wasn't likely to happen.

He soaped himself down twice, paranoid about the sweat clinging to his skin. He didn't want to inadvertently contribute to the stereotype of fat people smelling worse than the general population. Jay couldn't even remember when and how this paranoia began, but he'd had the same shower routine for most of his life. Probably at least since puberty. Once he rinsed off the second round of soap, he didn't linger too long in the shower. It was getting difficult to breathe in the thick steam, and his skin had turned as red and tight as a tomato.

By the time he emerged from bathroom, the apartment was empty. Jay sighed with relief and went directly to his room, ignoring his computer in favor of his bed and the stack of books on the side waiting for his attention. He flipped through a half dozen of them, but he saw Stephen's name on every page, the letters breaking apart and rearranging themselves until each mark on the paper bore the reminder of Jay's obsession, and he knew he wasn't going to get anything accomplished.

He promised himself he would get work done if he turned on his laptop, but he navigated directly to Craigslist. He scanned through the personals, finding the standard messages. He was pretty sure there were about two dozen men who just posted the same thing over and over, complete with the same pictures. Did they keep posting because they'd had so much success, or because they were just ridiculously optimistic?

Jay had mentally composed his own ad many times. Something along the lines of
Horny, safe bottom looking to suck cock tonight.
Not the cleverest ad, but it would probably attract a few responses at least, from gay and ostensibly straight men alike. If he only wanted to give a few blow jobs, it wouldn't matter what he looked like or if the person was attracted to him. It would be about sex, pure and simple. Jay didn't like the thought of random, anonymous hookups. The thought of sucking a stranger's cock and then disappearing without even exchanging names didn't sit right with him, and so even though the option had always been there, Jay couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

But it
was
still an option. And Jay was so frustrated, so starved for
any
contact that wasn't just incidental that it was an option that looked increasingly attractive. If he didn't want to die a virgin while waiting for the perfect guy--who, he now knew, did exist--then the only option became the best option by default. If he sucked some stranger's cock, would he still technically be a virgin? It might seem silly, but he didn't want to lose his virginity to a stranger if he could help it. Not that he'd had such great luck with people he knew.

He went back three pages, clicking through each ad, even the ones that were obviously spam. Some of the pictures posted were not bad, though they all served a excellent reminders of why Jay was sitting alone on Friday night with nothing better to do than go through ads. None of the pictures were of men who looked like him--they mostly looked like Stephen. Or they were just sticks with no real tone or definition to them, but still more socially acceptable than him.

What would it be like to have sex with Stephen? He would probably be amazing--practice makes perfect, after all. He would know exactly what felt good, exactly what to do to Jay and what he'd want in return. It wouldn't matter that Jay was completely inexperienced and more than a little shy, because Stephen would be happy to guide him. He'd always been a quick study, and though he often felt strange and out of place in his own body, he was quite good at physical tasks. Plus, he'd really want to
please
Stephen. Whatever he lacked in technique, he'd make up with enthusiasm. Stephen would never have a more enthusiastic partner than him.

Jay sighed and lay back on the bed, the laptop balanced on his stomach. When he closed his eyes, it wasn't difficult to summon Stephen's face to his mind's eye. He was smiling, naturally, because Jay could spend all day studying Stephen's smile. It wasn't perfect, and that's what Jay liked about it. It was a little crooked, and Stephen's teeth weren't quite straight. Like he'd worn braces for a year and then had them taken off. His lips were thick, too, which only added to the off-kilter impression of his mouth.

Wouldn't it be great if he could just offer no-strings attached sex? Stephen was lonely if he was willing to spend so much time with Jay to begin with. Sooner or later--probably sooner--he'd find somebody steady, or maybe a handful of fuck buddies to fill his time, and then he wouldn't have any use for Jay anymore. But Jay wasn't greedy. He'd happily take what he could get, and he wouldn't ask for anything in return. Stephen wouldn't even have to see him naked or keep the lights on. But how do you offer that to somebody? Especially somebody you saw nearly every single day and would still have to work with?

The computer started to feel hot against his stomach, so he set it aside and swung his legs off the side of the bed. His back and, strangely enough, his hips protested strenuously, each muscle clenching tight as if determined to keep him flat on his back, alone with his thoughts. He almost gave in to the temptation to do just that, to lay down and not move for the rest of the night. But he did have work to do, and he did need to start dinner--as much as he hated to do it. If having sex was his number one fantasy, surviving without food was a close second. He'd toyed with various options over the years, including having his stomach stapled or his jaw wired shut when no diet made any amount of difference. He'd actually lost over fifty pounds his freshman year, but it was hard to stay focused when every single morning the mirror reminded him that fifty pounds or a hundred pounds, he'd still be a big, fat slob.

Ignoring the various blades of pain stabbing at his back, abdomen, and thighs, Jay made his way into the kitchen. He needed to go to the grocery store, but there was still enough food in the fridge for the night. After ten minutes of rooting around the kitchen and poking through the cupboards, he had enough for a BLT. He prepared his food on autopilot, his full attention still on Stephen, though he'd pushed aside the ridiculous fantasies that were so easy to build around Stephen's lovely body. It only hurt him to dwell on those images.

But he couldn't stop his dreams. Jay read until he couldn't keep his eyes open for another second, and then surrendered to the desire that coursed through him whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not. Stephen was always the center of these dreams, beautiful and golden and just an inch out of Jay's reach. Even in his own dreamscape where anything was possible, Jay could look but never touch.

Jay's Saturday morning routine included a bowl of cereal and a mini-Mythbusters marathon. He had a small crush on Jamie--something about the mustache perhaps--and though he didn't watch a lot of television as a rule, he always made time for the Mythbusters. He'd considered writing an analysis of the show, maybe for the Popular Culture Association conference in the spring. Something about the primal need to blow stuff up good, or maybe the trend away from educational shows--as Mythbusters had once been--into blowing stuff up good shows. The Dumbening Down of America or something along those lines. Jay smiled a little at that. He'd even use
dumbening.
It'd be a meta joke and...

"Jay? Oh, you're awake."

"It's ten o'clock. Of course I'm awake." Jay turned toward the door. "Are you just getting in now?"

"Yes."

"You spent the whole night and most of the morning with Jeni?"

"Yeah, and look Jay, I know how you feel about her, but we had a lot of fun."

"What does that mean? You're going out again tonight?"

She tilted her chin defiantly. "Yes. I'll keep her away from the apartment, okay? I promise, you won't have to see her."