Touch Me (4 page)

As he waited, he held his breath. This was always the moment when his heart seized. When he worried the worst had happened. That George had been rushed to the hospital. When Luce inevitably picked up, he never knew if he was disappointed or relieved.

This time, she sounded out of breath. “Sorry,” she said, knowing immediately that it was him calling. Lucy Velasquez was the day nurse they had hired. She was a caring, efficient woman in her late twenties, and Erik had never thought twice about leaving George in her care.

“No problem. Everything okay?”

“Fine. I was just getting him settled into the bed.”

“How was he today?”

She hesitated. Silence filled the line. Lucy had been with them a year now, since things had become too much for Erik to manage on his own, and she read George almost as well as he did. “He seemed very sad, I think.”

Erik had thought the same thing himself when he left for work this morning. “I know.”

“He had trouble breathing again. I think I’ll put him on the ventilator tonight.”

That wasn’t good. George had begun needing the portable ventilator more and more frequently. He was entering the last stages of the disease. Erik couldn’t bear to think about what that meant. How little time they had left. He heard Luce’s footsteps moving through the house as she carried the phone handset to George.

“Your man is on the phone,” she said to George. “Okay, you’re on speaker, Erik.”

“Hey baby.” He forced the cheer into his voice.

“Good. Session?” George asked. The words were guttural, slurred, barely intelligible to anyone except Erik. They sounded torn from his throat. Like he was speaking with a mouthful of cotton balls. He knew how much effort it cost George just to get them out. As he slowly lost the capability to speak, they had developed their own form of code. But soon, even those few words would be gone. Tears pricked Erik’s eyes.

“It was… interesting. He was very young. You’d have liked him.” He kept his voice light. He didn’t want George to know how much the kid had affected him. There was silence on the other end of the line. He didn’t know if it was because George was thinking or trying to speak.

“Share?” his partner croaked with a hint of excitement. Erik smiled to himself. George was looking forward to hearing all about it.

“Of course,” he responded. “I’m leaving now, so I’ll be home soon. Don’t fall asleep.”

“Love,” George said. It sounded like “luh”.

“I love you too, babe. See you in a bit.”

Erik hung up, his smile fading. He put on his coat and hat, turned out the lights and headed home.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS PLACE?” Allan demanded angrily as soon as he caught sight of the sex toys on the shelf. Erik sighed and closed the door to his sanctuary. Apprehension flooded his gut. He never took clients without speaking to them directly first, and this was why. Apparently Cindy had neglected to mention a few things to her husband when she arranged this little surprise. Erik had been too caught up in their story, and wanting to help, to think much about the repercussions. But he realized now that he had no idea how receptive Allan would be—all he had to go on was what Cindy had told him.

Allan leaned heavily on his cane and glowered. If Erik hadn’t been blocking the exit, he likely would have stormed out. Or tried to. But the stroke and his recovery had left him gaunt and pale, and obviously weakened. He was only sixty-one according to his wife, but he looked much older with a shock of thick, white hair and sallow, papery skin. His left eyelid drooped slightly, as did the corner of his mouth. Still, beneath the scars of his illness lurked the remnants of a once very good looking man.

“I take it Cindy didn’t explain things to you,” Erik said.

“She said she was taking me for a massage. Not to some queer jack shack.” When he spoke, it was slowly, annunciating every word.

“I prefer the term erotic massage. But we don’t have to use those.” He gestured to the toys.

Allan’s laugh was harsh and grating. “What a bitch. Why couldn’t she have just walked out like she’s been itching to do? Why humiliate me like this?”

“I don’t think that was her intention at all.”

Allan dug into his pocket for his wallet. “How much does she owe you? I’ll reimburse you for your time.”

He lay a gentling hand on Allan’s arm. He smiled. “Put that away. I don’t charge my special clients. Let’s have a seat and talk.” He took Allan’s elbow and led the older man to the chair in the corner. He sat with a sigh of relief but still regarded Erik warily.

“You’re wasting your time. Maybe a year ago, before my stroke, I would have been up for this. But not now.”

“Up for what?” Erik asked innocently. “I’m just a massage therapist.”

“Yeah, and those dildos are just for display.”

Erik chuckled. Even Allan smiled, although on his lopsided lips it looked more like a grimace.

“Cindy says you don’t let her touch you anymore.”

“Jesusfuckingchrist.” Allan struggled to rise to his feet. Erik took the man’s cane and set it to the side so he was effectively hobbled. “Are you some quack doctor, too? Are you going to hold me prisoner until I talk about my feelings?”

“I told you, I’m just a massage therapist. And you’re not a prisoner. If you really want to leave, you can. But I’d like to help you. Make you feel good again. So would Cindy. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger. This is a safe place. In here there is no judgment. You can say anything you want to.”

Allan’s glare faded. He swallowed, looked away. “The woman emptied my bedpan. She wiped my ass. I don’t know how she can stand to look at me…” Allan’s voice trembled with shame.

Erik took the man’s left hand. He uncurled the gnarled fingers and began massaging the palm almost absently. “Being a caregiver does change things. On both sides. I won’t lie to you. There’s a shift that happens in the relationship. But people who love each other can work past that. Maybe find a new balance. New ways to please each other. Get creative. It might not be the same, but it can be just as good.”

Allan peered at him. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I do.” Erik swallowed the lump in his throat and continued to knead Allan’s palm, working the pressure points and then massaging each finger one by one. He didn’t want to think about George right now. About how similar this man was.

Allan’s breathing deepened as Erik continued stroking his palm. George loved a good hand massage, and so it seemed did Allan. He didn’t appear to have a problem with Erik touching him. So maybe Cindy was right about her husband’s little secret after all.

Allan sat in silence for a long while. “This body of mine—it doesn’t work anymore,” he finally said, bowing his head shamefully. “You’re wasting your time. I can’t get it up. Even the little blue pill won’t work.”

“So?” Erik challenged.

“So? I’m not even a man anymore.”

“Do you think getting hard makes you a man?”

“Well it sure as hell helps,” Allan snapped.

“Have you talked to the doctor?”

“He says there’s nothing wrong with me down there. That it takes time.” Allan snorted. “Tell that to my wife.”

“I don’t think Cindy’s the problem. Maybe you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. The connection between the mind and the body is incredibly intertwined.”

“Did Cindy tell you that? She’s a regular blabbermouth, isn’t she?”

“She loves you.”

Erik saw the fear behind the man’s eyes, the fear that he would never be sexual again, the fear that without his cock he was less than a man. His chest tightened in sympathy. He had to help these two find their way.

He squeezed Allan’s hand. “Look, I’m not a sex therapist, but I have learned a thing or two over the years. And the one thing I know is that orgasm, erection and ejaculation are three different things. It’s possible to have the first without the other two.”

“Bullshit.”

“Orgasm happens up here.” He tapped a finger on Allan’s temple. “You have to adjust your expectations. Focus more on stimulating your brain.” He ran the back of his knuckles down Allan’s papery cheek in a deliberate caress. He let his hand rest on the back of Allan’s neck. “Fantasies are good for that.”

Allan’s eyes widened. “She told you,” he breathed, aghast. But as close as Erik was, he saw the telltale sign of interest in the way Allan’s pupils dilated.

He kneaded the tense muscles of the older man’s neck. Yes, Cindy had confided their joint fantasy of a threesome. While Erik couldn’t give them exactly that, he could come close. And maybe that would help restore some of Allan’s lost confidence.

“You’re here already,” he said with a gentle smile. “Why don’t you let me massage you and we’ll see where it goes?”

Allan eyed the massage table warily. “I can’t lay on my front. Makes it hard to breathe. And my mouth starts drooling.” He looked down at his feet. Erik had an inkling of what it cost him to admit that. George had been proud once, too. Accepting his limitations had been a huge step for him.

“No problem. We’ll make it work.” Erik gave Allan a one-armed hug and rose to get things ready. He handed Allan back his cane. “You’ll need to undress.”

“All the way?”

“All the way. You can use the bathroom if you prefer.”

“Here is fine.”

Erik lowered the table to a better height, queued up his music and adjusted the thermostat so that the air conditioning wasn’t quite so cold. July had entered hot and humid and the annual summer fights over the thermostat had begun. He preferred it room temperature, but his office assistant always complained about being too hot. She jacked up the A/C when he wasn’t looking.

When everything was ready, he saw that Allan was still struggling with the buttons on his shirt front. His unwieldy left hand made the simple task difficult. “Do you need help?”

“Damned buttons. I don’t know why they have to make ‘em so small.” He waved Erik away. “I can manage. It may take a while though.”

Erik hid a sad smile. So proud. Just like George. “Take your time.”

Finally Allan was able to slip out of his shirt. His cotton pants had an elastic waistband, so he was able to quickly shuck those.

He’d once been a robust man. He was still tall and broad shouldered, chest covered in a thick pelt of silver hair, but his illness had left him pale and thin. His left shoulder dropped a fraction lower than the right. Erik’s gaze honed in on a very nice dick. Even soft it was impressive. He understood now why it was such an issue for Allan that he could no longer get an erection.

“I don’t know when I got so old,” Allan said with a sad smile, looking down at his body. “Seems like just yesterday I was beating the girls off with a stick.”

“It happens to all of us. You should have seen me when I found my first gray chest hair.” George, who had been completely gray by age forty, had teased him mercilessly for weeks over that one measly hair.

“I can’t bear for her to see me. Like this.”

Erik took two steps and clasped Allan’s face between his palms. “You’re a damned fine looking man, Allan. You have nothing to be ashamed of, believe me. If we weren’t both attached, I’d definitely want to show you a thing or two.”

The sheen of tears in the older man’s eyes made Erik’s heart ache. He placed a quick kiss on Allan’s lips. “Now, can you get up here okay?”

He helped Allan up the step stool and arranged him so that he sat perched on the edge of the table, his legs dangling over the long side. The position left him slightly lower than Erik, so that the top of his head reached the underside of Erik’s chin.

Erik moved to stand behind him and laid out all the things he would need within reach. Allan made a startled noise when he saw the oddly-shaped black silicone toy. “What’s that?”

“Prostate massager.”

“Just had the ol’ prostate checked, thank you very much. It doesn’t need any fixing.”

Erik couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t be so quick to judge, Allan. But don’t worry, we’ll only use this externally today.”

He oiled up his hands and then started working out the muscles in Allan’s neck and shoulders. He kept his touch gentle, gaging the man’s fragility. His thumbs slid up Allan’s nape to the base of his skull, where he spent a long time loosening the tight knots of tension. He slid his fingers along Allan’s jaw, caressed the rim of his ears. Allan made a little sound of pleasure.

Erik moved on to the shoulders and deltoids. “How’s the pressure? Am I hurting you?”

“It’s good. You’re way better than that girl who does my physio,” he murmured.

Erik chuckled. “Her job is to make you work. Mine is to make you relax and feel good.”

He prodded his way down Allan’s spine with his thumbs and then back up. He reached his arms around Allan’s torso, embracing the man in a tight hug and trapping his arms against his sides. Allan started in surprise, but when Erik did nothing but hold him, he relaxed again. Tucked close behind him, Erik began to draw his flattened palms over that wide, hairy chest. He dug his fingers through the wiry chest hair, savoring Allan’s quick inhale of breath when he scored a nipple. Sensitive. That was good. He would come back to those later.

His hands continued their descent, working across Allan’s stomach, his groin, but deliberately skirting his penis. When he reached the thighs, he stroked along the outside and then back up the inside in slow ovals. Allan’s cock was still soft, but Erik heard the subtle change in his breathing, felt the bunching of his muscles wherever he touched. His fingers lingered in the creases where thigh met hip, rubbing slowly, sliding downward to meet beneath Allan’s bulging sac. His testicles jumped at the touch.

“Jesus, you have good hands.”

Erik pressed a kiss to the side of Allan’s neck. The man smelled good—clean and spicy, with a hint of sandalwood. The scent was so familiar it brought an immediate warmth to his groin. Not an instant flash of heat like with Jeremy but a slow and steady simmer. He closed his eyes, let his hands guide him, and it could have been George he was holding.

He reached for the lube, squirted a dollop into his palm and then took Allan’s soft penis in his hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze and then began massaging the shaft with both hands. Allan’s sigh was filled with surprise.