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to let me know he was really asking if I was half of
a pair or part of a house-sharing deal.
"It's just me, and I don't mind the space," I
answered. "I broke up with my partner a little while
ago and I need a clean break. He's gone and I'm not
going to hang onto the past. Besides, this is the only
place I've seen so far that has all this incredible
light pouring in."
"Ah-huh." Tom nodded slowly. Those shrewd
eyes of his raked me from head to feet and back
again. I couldn't tell how he was responding to the
news that I was gay. It wasn't often that I'd get a
negative reaction, but it wouldn't be the first time,
88
either. The memory of that guy in Descartes still
irritated me. "Doesn't do any good to brood on
might-have-beens and maybes. You an artist?"
"No, an architect, and I often like to work on my
projects at home."
"Ah-huh," he said again. "Well, in that case, if
you're interested, you better say so. Like I tell every-
one who comes along to take a look, it's a case of
first come, first served. First one to give me a yes,
gets it."
"In that case, yes. It's just what I need."
"Good," Tom said, and we shook on the deal then
and there. "Three months' rent as a deposit?"
"No problem. I can write the check now, and I'll
bring my references tomorrow. How soon can I start
moving in?" I added, expecting him to say a couple
of weeks at the least.
"Hell, whenever you want," he answered.
"Tomorrow, if you like. I'm not gonna stand on a lot
of ceremony. I tend to go by gut instinct, and that
tells me you're okay."
"Thank you," I said, and meant it. "I'll start mov-
ing stuff from my old house as soon as I can, then."
I spent another hour with Tom and Bella, his
wife, sitting in their comfortable kitchen drinking
coffee and talking. They were good people, friendly
and hospitable, and reminded me of my grand-
parents, though they were a good ten years
younger. Once Tom got started on the subject of the
barge and its renovation, he really came alive. It
was obviously a bona fide labor of love as far as he
was concerned, and I didn't have to pretend to be
fascinated.
89
When I finally left, I was feeling more optimistic
than I had since I'd walked in on Cray and the
twink. In fact, despite all the pain and heartache
and apple-aloes-weirdness, it was almost creepy
how things were falling into place for me. I sent Ari
a jubilant text and promised her an email with all
the details, including photos of the place, after I'd
moved in.
The optimism didn't last. I couldn't get to sleep
that night, and it wasn't entirely down to the fact
that I was still unused to being alone in a bed. Or
that I was still hurting like hell over Cray. It was
partly my traitorous libido that had been so long
accustomed to regular pleasure, to sleepy morning
fucking and heated urgency in the evenings. Even
if it was boring vanilla sex. It was also partly Drew
Connors.
God help me, between the two men who were
currently showing an interest, I was drawn more
strongly to him. I couldn't be that boring if guys as
hot as those two wanted me, could I? And just like
that, my cock began to swell hopefully against the
sheet. Who was I kidding? When or rather, if either
of them found out just how vanilla I was, they'd be
gone. Of course, that was assuming they were look-
ing for a relationship and not just a fast fuck with
the poor sap who'd been cheated on because he
couldn't keep his lover satisfied. The hard-on
drooped a little. Shit. Now I was getting maudlin,
and without the excuse of whiskey shots. What the
hell happened to that wall I was building?
90
Groaning, I rolled over and pummeled my
pillows into submission, and tried again to relax.
Didn't happen. Every time I closed my eyes, it was
Drew's face I saw; his smile creating those
damnable dimples, his eyes crinkling at the corners,
the deep, husky drawl as he spoke my name--and
before I knew it, my hips were pushing rhyth-
mically into the mattress.
"Fuck!" My head and heart might be feeling
vulnerable and insecure, but my cock just wanted
some action and didn't care how it got it. I turned
over again and starfished across the big bed, kicked
the covers off and glared up at the darkened
ceiling.
The man was a client. Casual sex with a client
was unethical and a very bad idea even if I wasn't
rebounding like a man bungee-jumping off a high
bridge. And he wasn't my type. Though when I
came to think of it, did I even have a type? The only
thing Drew and Joe had in common with Cray was
gender, sexuality and the usual arrangement of
limbs and other attachments. As far as personalities
went, I'd been the responsible one, the practical one
in our partnership, though it hadn't always been
that way. I'd been just as giddy and feckless, but
some time after we'd graduated with our degrees,
I'd lost the need for bright lights and loud music, for
clubs and dancing and drinking. I'd forgotten how
to be spontaneous. No wonder Cray had gone
looking for more excitement.
Or maybe, said a small voice in my head, you
grew up. Cray didn't. But it couldn't be that simple,
could it?
91
Okay, if I was a grown-up now, I had better start [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
to let me know he was really asking if I was half of
a pair or part of a house-sharing deal.
"It's just me, and I don't mind the space," I
answered. "I broke up with my partner a little while
ago and I need a clean break. He's gone and I'm not
going to hang onto the past. Besides, this is the only
place I've seen so far that has all this incredible
light pouring in."
"Ah-huh." Tom nodded slowly. Those shrewd
eyes of his raked me from head to feet and back
again. I couldn't tell how he was responding to the
news that I was gay. It wasn't often that I'd get a
negative reaction, but it wouldn't be the first time,
88
either. The memory of that guy in Descartes still
irritated me. "Doesn't do any good to brood on
might-have-beens and maybes. You an artist?"
"No, an architect, and I often like to work on my
projects at home."
"Ah-huh," he said again. "Well, in that case, if
you're interested, you better say so. Like I tell every-
one who comes along to take a look, it's a case of
first come, first served. First one to give me a yes,
gets it."
"In that case, yes. It's just what I need."
"Good," Tom said, and we shook on the deal then
and there. "Three months' rent as a deposit?"
"No problem. I can write the check now, and I'll
bring my references tomorrow. How soon can I start
moving in?" I added, expecting him to say a couple
of weeks at the least.
"Hell, whenever you want," he answered.
"Tomorrow, if you like. I'm not gonna stand on a lot
of ceremony. I tend to go by gut instinct, and that
tells me you're okay."
"Thank you," I said, and meant it. "I'll start mov-
ing stuff from my old house as soon as I can, then."
I spent another hour with Tom and Bella, his
wife, sitting in their comfortable kitchen drinking
coffee and talking. They were good people, friendly
and hospitable, and reminded me of my grand-
parents, though they were a good ten years
younger. Once Tom got started on the subject of the
barge and its renovation, he really came alive. It
was obviously a bona fide labor of love as far as he
was concerned, and I didn't have to pretend to be
fascinated.
89
When I finally left, I was feeling more optimistic
than I had since I'd walked in on Cray and the
twink. In fact, despite all the pain and heartache
and apple-aloes-weirdness, it was almost creepy
how things were falling into place for me. I sent Ari
a jubilant text and promised her an email with all
the details, including photos of the place, after I'd
moved in.
The optimism didn't last. I couldn't get to sleep
that night, and it wasn't entirely down to the fact
that I was still unused to being alone in a bed. Or
that I was still hurting like hell over Cray. It was
partly my traitorous libido that had been so long
accustomed to regular pleasure, to sleepy morning
fucking and heated urgency in the evenings. Even
if it was boring vanilla sex. It was also partly Drew
Connors.
God help me, between the two men who were
currently showing an interest, I was drawn more
strongly to him. I couldn't be that boring if guys as
hot as those two wanted me, could I? And just like
that, my cock began to swell hopefully against the
sheet. Who was I kidding? When or rather, if either
of them found out just how vanilla I was, they'd be
gone. Of course, that was assuming they were look-
ing for a relationship and not just a fast fuck with
the poor sap who'd been cheated on because he
couldn't keep his lover satisfied. The hard-on
drooped a little. Shit. Now I was getting maudlin,
and without the excuse of whiskey shots. What the
hell happened to that wall I was building?
90
Groaning, I rolled over and pummeled my
pillows into submission, and tried again to relax.
Didn't happen. Every time I closed my eyes, it was
Drew's face I saw; his smile creating those
damnable dimples, his eyes crinkling at the corners,
the deep, husky drawl as he spoke my name--and
before I knew it, my hips were pushing rhyth-
mically into the mattress.
"Fuck!" My head and heart might be feeling
vulnerable and insecure, but my cock just wanted
some action and didn't care how it got it. I turned
over again and starfished across the big bed, kicked
the covers off and glared up at the darkened
ceiling.
The man was a client. Casual sex with a client
was unethical and a very bad idea even if I wasn't
rebounding like a man bungee-jumping off a high
bridge. And he wasn't my type. Though when I
came to think of it, did I even have a type? The only
thing Drew and Joe had in common with Cray was
gender, sexuality and the usual arrangement of
limbs and other attachments. As far as personalities
went, I'd been the responsible one, the practical one
in our partnership, though it hadn't always been
that way. I'd been just as giddy and feckless, but
some time after we'd graduated with our degrees,
I'd lost the need for bright lights and loud music, for
clubs and dancing and drinking. I'd forgotten how
to be spontaneous. No wonder Cray had gone
looking for more excitement.
Or maybe, said a small voice in my head, you
grew up. Cray didn't. But it couldn't be that simple,
could it?
91
Okay, if I was a grown-up now, I had better start [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]