Eddie sat up and pulled his legs up to his chest. He knew, too, that part of Julian's seeming affection now was borne of the fact that, when their encounters were over, Eddie didn't beat the shit out of Julian. In the thin white light that flooded the room, Eddie could see the bruises on Julian's torso from the last john who'd felt the need to prove his masculinity by pounding his fists into the effete object of his affection. Eddie wasn't sure if he should feel reassured by that, if it was a good thing that he made Julian feel safe.
“I'm sorry,” Julian said softly, as if maybe he wasn't sure about that, either. “I do care about you. I won't come after you. If after tonight we don't see each other, I hope that things go well for you. Maybe I'll come see that show of yours sometime.”
“Sure. It's very good. Or so I've been told.” Eddie wasn't sure how the usual crowd at the James Theater would deal with a man like Julian.
“I'm sure that you are perfectly marvelous in it.” Julian reached over and caressed Eddie's hair. He smiled affectionately. “But if I don't see you, good luck.”
“You too.”
“I don't need luck. I make my own.” Julian grinned. “Perhaps you would like one last tussle with me. Free of charge.”
When Julian reached for Eddie, Eddie let himself be pulled into those long arms. He wasn't feeling especially affectionate. If anything, the encounter felt more than anything like a good-bye. Would he ever see Julian again? He wondered as they moved and moaned and sweated together, and when Julian cried out at the end, something in Eddie's heart closed off.
Eddie got up afterward and went to the restroom. On his way, he left Julian's fee on the dresser. When he returned to the bedroom, Julian was gone and so was the money. Just as well, Eddie thought, returning to bed. The sheets smelled like sex and Julian, and it was enough to let Eddie sink into sleep.