These are chapters from The Children of Project Iceworm (tentative publishing date of summer of 2018) which is the sequel to The Roswell Discrepancy (coming out June 2017). Both are the adventures of my husband, Angus Mac Innes-Reese, our crew, and myself as we combat international bad folks then expose and debunk government lies all in service of Her Majesty - all the while enjoying some very hot sex.
This scene is set in Tel Aviv, where Angus and I are to met up with my best friend from Chicago, LaTonya "Toni" Hoffman. Angus and I have been married now for over five years and I am about to become ordained as a rabbi. Angus is a peer of the realm, a member of the House of Lords, venture capitalist, and a founder of a nonprofit that helps those who need artificial limbs. I am finishing my studies and thinking about doing more, but Angus doesn't know it yet.
Typically, Angus and I are exclusive. He's not only my husband but also my best friend. But something magical is going on here. I just don't know what. Or maybe her hot body and some unresolved feelings are just more temptations than us two boys can handle?
“Angus, you’ll just love her!”
“I’m sure I will,” he said while the bell hop deposited the last of our bags on the floor. “it’s just I thought we’d have some time alone.” If the bell hop was shocked by two men sharing a room, he didn’t show it but only eyed the generous number of shekels my husband had just dropped in his hand.
“I know,” I smiled, “it’s just I haven’t seen Toni in ages.” I plopped onto the nearby extra modern couch, my feet dangling over the side, comfy for the first time in what seemed like ages.
Angus walked over and opened the French doors, the breeze from off the Mediterranean immediately relieved the heat in the room and the beach smelled inviting. “Yeah, I haven’t seen you in ages either,” he said in a disappointed tone. “I just got here too! Frankly, I thought we’d hold up in these rooms, eat lots of room service, and shag until you had to head back for ordination.”
I was nearly done with my rabbinical placement – conduct a couple of Shabbat services and a presentation and I would be back in America briefly for graduation then return home to Cardiff. Angus had been terribly supportive and understanding over the five years of this cross-Atlantic marriage and he was looking forward to not sharing me with anything or anyone. Then, I got an email from my girl in Detroit, Michigan saying she was coming to Israel. Another congregant had to pull out at the last minute on her synagogue’s annual trip and she got the spot. “She’s only going to be in Tel Aviv for a few days then we can be alone as much as you like, eh?”
I met Toni nearly ten years ago when I joined an Aikido dojo in Chicago on the recommendation from a guy I met while studying Karate in San Francisco. Although we were both in our early 20s, she was already a black belt, having grown up under the tutelage of Sensei Fumio Toyoda, one of the foremost masters of that martial art school. Toni’s West African mother enrolled her at age 7, looking for a self-defense style that wouldn’t detract from but take advantage of her femininity. And by 17, she was teaching adult beginner classes there while simultaneously teaching Hebrew school and finishing college. Toni spent several months throwing me around like a rag doll for before I finally learned that, unlike other martial art styles, Aikido was based on the idea of not fighting but using your opponent’s movement and motion to undermined the attack. For the person I was at that time, so full of rage and driven to self-destruction, this was a mental readjustment that, in combination with daily sessions of Zen meditation, likely saved my life.
It helped too that the Midwest’s gay mecca, what the locals referred to as “Boys Town”, with all of its clubs, bath houses, and shopping, was within walking distance of the dojo. Toni was always up for a night of weed smoking (she had the best dealer!), drinking, and dancing. She’d chase the girls around the club and I’d pick up whatever looked good in a haze. It was nice to have someone to keep an eye on me as I tended to unwittingly attract rough trade – on several occasions, she pulled me out of some sticky situations. She convinced me to stop drinking for good after one night where I was particularly slammed. Slurring and crying, I’d told her how my childhood rabbi had groomed me for nearly a year then brutally sexually assaulted me during a camping trip. Toni was the first person other than a litany of useless therapists I’d told the whole story to. And she didn’t react with pity or false tenderness but simply told me that if I kept drinking and running, I would one day one into myself and I wouldn’t like what I saw. From that moment on, we quit the standard pick up clubs and spent our time exclusively in dance halls.
We were inseparable mates until she met Chris and I left Chicago, likely prematurely as I later reflected. We kept in touch afterward – probably more than I did with my sister. Toni moved with Chris to Detroit shortly thereafter. They would have been the only friends at Angus and I’s wedding had Chris not died in an auto accident a few days before they were set to leave. Toni was devastated but was still going to come to Cardiff but I wouldn’t hear of it. We promised and tried to visit one another while I was studying at the rabbinical college in Philadelphia but it turned out I barely had time for Angus’s visits let alone to get to Michigan and she was caught up between fundraising and running her social service agency.
I could feel Angus relenting – other than Whitfield, my former college physics professor and a member of our spy crew and Tom, my sister’s husband, and my former lover, Angus had never known me to have friends. Even while we were children on the estate, if I wasn’t playing with him, I was studying at the local yeshiva, a Jewish secondary school, or reading. I was an awkward, bookish boy with the social skills of an autistic kid on depressants. Like Angus, Toni was one of the few people on the planet who could bring me out of myself. “I guess a few nights won’t matter,” he replied, likely out of curiosity.
I jumped up and gave him a big, wet kiss on his cheeks. “You’re wonderful! Thanks!” Before he could take things any further, I added, “She should be here in 30 minutes. You unpack and I’ll check for someplace nearby where we can get a meal, eh?” He shrugged and reluctantly attended to his assignment.
The Brown Beach Hotel was funky-chic with a full splash of elegance. It had all the posh the of an early 1950s Playboy hotel, with lots of hard edges, angled accessories, tight cushions, and beach color themes and designs. Tel Aviv was Israel’s most cosmopolitan city, more like Paris or New York than Jerusalem and like those cities, it was always busy. But because the hotel was located steps away from Trumpeldor beach, a part of the city’s long golden shoreline, the salt water and rolling waves muted the hustle of modern urban living, with hotel guests and citizens casually walking or jogging along the beach promenade.
Angus and I came down to the lobby from our top floor penthouse suite to wait for my friend. We were huddled in the back of the lift by the time it reached the ground floor and as people fanned out like so much parting of the Sea of Reeds, in the distance emerged LaTonya Hoffman, even more ravishing than I remembered and stunning in ways that FaceTime must have purposely muted. At 5’ 4”, she was Pam Grier’s love child with Paul Newman – creamy, golden complexion covering the shit brick house body the Commodores crooned about, with a floppy but carefully coiffed Jew-fro up top, long, natural lashes fluttering over big blue eyes, and muscular lips well practiced in massage that were smiling at me. Pulling two roller suitcases, her breasts started to bounce when she saw me, barely contained by an American Marine Corps tee shirt – she was simply waving. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to run toward her or warn everyone of an incoming tsunami. She was a lovely chocolate piece of candy which made me wonder what the fuck my problem was back in Chicago – how is it that I never tapped that? “Put your tongue back in your mouth,” I scolded Angus.
Angus smirked and shook his head, likely remembering the last few women from my past he’d met over the years. “My apologies but these fit females from your past tend to come with an agenda.” He was recalling an old professor who tried to murder him during a previous investigation of Russian alien-human technology.
He had a point in another way, however – how focused on my own self-destruction must I’ve been to let this woman slip through my fingers? As I cast a wide smile toward her and walked up to the reservation counter, I had a quick recollection of many intellectually stimulating conversations on a variety of topics that most girls her age couldn’t even spell. Toni was well-read, a quick wit, and almost as well-traveled as I. She was one of those girls who scare most guys but the kind I thought I’d eventually marry. Yet, neither of us made a move – we never snogged let alone shagged one another – she was my wing man and I was hers. I tried to dismiss the sexist thinking that men and women can’t be just friends. Yet, something was tingling my “Spidey senses”. It didn’t help that for some reason my clairsentience skills were failing me as my eyes got closer to those bobbing nipples. And now my brand was humming.
Being Jewish with Druidic powers was a complicated heritage to manage. I grew up in a world where the existence of magic was taken for granted. My parents put raised brand on my back - an Allwedd Derw, a Welsh oak key that resembled the biblical tree from the Garden of Eden. It was a compromise between the traditions that obviously ran through my veins. Since childhood, I had been able to sense the present, the past or future physical and emotional states of others. Once I reached puberty, I could hear people’s thoughts and send psychic messages. At that time as well, my brand began illuminating whenever I became highly emotional, especially when sexually stimulated. While most males got boners in class or woke up in the morning with their beds drenched in cum, I went through shirts like Elizabeth Taylor went through marriages.
But I’d never had that reaction to Toni – until now. It was good luck that she made the first move because left up to me and I would’ve stammered like a bespectacled 17-year-old asking the cheerleader to senior prom. “Desmond!” she said offering me a kiss on the left cheek, “it’s so good to see you. And how the fuck is it that you’ve gained not a pound?” She turned her bright smile toward Angus, “And you must be hubby!” She gave him a similar smooch. “Oh my! You look better than on Facebook, darlin’!” She spun him around like she was prepping a model for the catwalk. “You didn’t lie Deetz! He’s fabulous!” Toni eyed him up and down once more for effect.
And Angus ate that shit up – my baby was nothing if not vain as hell. This is just what he needed too – some sharp Shirley to shoot compliments his way – since when he got off his plane to greet me, the second words out of his mouth were the fact that he found two gray hairs. I didn’t say anything but solely wanted to remind him that his father had completely gray sideburns by the time he was 40 and that didn’t seem to stop him – young and old slappers were falling all over themselves to get some of that daddy love. “It’s so good to see you too, Luv!”
“How was your flight?” Angus asked, likely struggling for something intelligent to say.
“Great! But I’d murder for a cup of coffee,” she answered.
“The hotel has a coffee shop right over here,” Angus volunteered.
If I’d not been so damn gobsmacked myself despite her rather ordinary dress, I’d probably been jealous of his attention. “I’ll have the bellhop take your bags up to the room.”
“Ah, don’t I need to register or something?” she asked.
“No, I’ve taken care of it,” answered Angus. “We got the Penthouse suite. There is plenty of room!”
“I’ll keep this one,” she said taking the carry-on duffle bag. As walked off to take care of her bags, I shot him a look that said, Show off. When I returned, they were already seated on the patio of the Flamingo Café looking at the menu. “Toni said she was a little hungry too,” Angus said a sort of an apology.
“I’m sure she’s not the only one,” I smirked as I took a seat between them.
We ordered an oyster platter with a warm bread basket with our coffees. Angus was eager to ask Toni about “the Deetz before I was married to him”. She let out a hearty laugh but gave me a look that asked for permission before she started. I shrugged, so she volunteered, “This man could party like nobody I’d ever knew then or since. I think one night we must’ve hit at least four or five different clubs. And what a flirt! He could charm the habit off an old nun!”
“Deetz?”
“Oh yes, honey! I’d have to hurry up and get my groove on if I was going have a bus ride partner home at the end of the night.”
Angus feigned surprise, as I had told him many a story of my times in Thailand, an equally sexually salacious period of my life. “Really? I can’t imagine.”
Toni looked at him queerly, uncertain if he was joking and if she should be talking so much. “Ah, yeah. I mean, well, he was still drinking then. And when he got drunk, all he’d talk about was you. He used to call you ‘his prince’”.
I blushed – she could have left that part out. I ended the awkward moment by asking, “So Toni, you’re only here a couple of days. Were there some attractions you wanted to see in particular?”
“Child please!” she laughed. “Thus far, I’ve seen more museums and archeological sites than a kid on a school trip! These are my last days in Israel and I’m in Tel Aviv. You may be married but I’m not and I plan to hit as many clubs as I can fit in a 72-hour period.” Angus was nodding his head but he had no idea what he was getting into. If this was even half of the Toni I remember, she could drink the normal man under the table then eat a sumo wrestler to shame. “But, I do have one request,” she added while digging in her bag.
She pulled out a small worn, cheap statue that said at its base, “2nd Place”. She wiggled it at me like those breasts had done just a while before. “Ah, shit! You still have that thing?”
“Of course!”
“What?” Angus asked.
“Deetz never told you?” she said, beaming with pride. “We won 2nd place in the state amateur ballroom dance competition.”
“Ballroom dancing?” Angus exclaimed. “You never told me you knew how to do ballroom?”
There was a reason for this. Again, I loved my husband but for all his sexual prowess, he had two left feet. I reckoned if I mentioned this tidbit of my past, he’d insist on going out every weekend. He liked to dance but looked like an idiot doing it. Containing his stagnate bouncing and contortionist wiggling to within the confines of our living room seemed like the best thing I could do for humankind. “It wasn’t nothing. Just a bit of fun,” I said trying to send psychic messages to Toni to cease and desist.
She wasn’t listening. “Ah, honey! The only reason we didn’t win that damn contest is the bitch blew the 1st and 3rd judges before things started!”
“You don’t know that,” I said, trying to minimize things.
“Darlin’ you forget, I saw the bitch in the bathroom when I was changing. Heifer didn’t even have the decency to go into a stall! I mean really! It was just an amateur bout, not like there was any money involved.” Then Toni had to go and make things worse. She reached into the bag again and pulled out a pair of pants. She looked me up and down while holding the spandex-like material in the air like she was demonstrating something to the whole restaurant. “Yep, you should still be able to fit these. If I need to take ‘em out a bit, I brought my sewing kit.”
Angus was still struggling to envision my dance moves and those pants were making his eyes bulge out. I decided to stop this right away before he got out of hand. “Oi girlfriend! You don’t even know if there is a club around here.”
“Please, Deetz! You know I never make a move without a plan.” She reached back down into the bag and pulled out her iPad. Swiping her fingers across the screen several times, she finally came to the web page before she handed the device to me. “I found this event tomorrow night at a place called Hanirkod. It’s their regular monthly amateur contest night.” She turned to Angus and added while pointing at the pants, “You ain’t seen nothing until you’ve seen him in one of these!” She made a few more swipes at the screen, bringing up a site dedicated to queer living in Israel. “And I checked it out – they are quite gay-friendly. Afterward, you can get a lesson in with Angus!”
I felt the color drain from my face. “Well, ah . . ..” was all I could get out.
“Brilliant!” said Angus, as if everything was settled. “And today?”
“Ah sweetie,” she said putting the pants back in the bag, “I’ve still got some more shopping to do if I’m going to be ready for this. I need to add some more baubles to my outfits and I need another pair of nylons. Plus, I just have to get a good workout or two in beforehand.” She pointed a slender finger at me and added, “Because this one over here will work a girl, you know!”
Angus shot me a sly smirk, “Ah, I can imagine.”
How did that old Bo Deans’ song go? “I’m in trouble again . . ..”
********************************************************
Toni accompanied us to the room, deposited the duffle bag minus her purse, gave us a quick kiss on the cheek and bounced out the suite, clearly on a mission.
“She’s great, Deetz!” said Angus after she left.
“She’s crazy,” I said only half-jokingly.
Angus plopped on the couch, waiting for me to pour his tea and serve him his addiction – pretzels. “But she was telling the truth, though, right? You were once that outgoing?”
“Briefly. I was drinking heavily then,” I confessed. I came around the coffee table to sit next to him and offer something of a confession. “I was one of those drunks who could do anything after a pint or two, only my drink of choice was a double gin, neat.”
“Oh.”
“Toni was the only one who could manage me, the only one who would look after me when I went too far, which was often. I don’t know how she did it but she’d get me into a taxi and to her apartment’s couch every time. I was often so blottered, I didn’t know who I sucked off or who screwed me or how. I suppose she stopped a few of the latter as well because I never contracted anything. Shit, for all I know, she put the condom on the guys. But I woke up every time safe and often feeling guilty about her bruised knuckles or face.”
“Wow!” he said, taking it all in. “Right, and seriously I won’t be mad but . . . you never even tried? Were you just fucking blokes then?”
“No, there were a good number of women at that time. You’d be amazed the number of fag hags who’d drop their panties at the idea of what they think is a gay guy giving them more than just passing attention. A gay bar was actually the easiest place to pick up women.” I began to look at my hands, rubbing themselves together as they always did when I was embarrassed. “But I was seriously self-destructive then. We’d start at the safest gay club but typically end up in some sticky floor, BDSM hell hole with me seeking out the nastiest gangbang ever videotaped. Like I said, I’m surprised I’m not HIV+ or left with a collapsed asshole. I owe that to that insane woman. She’s the best. Well, the best next to you, that is.” I offered a weak smile with downcast eyes.
He gave me a reassuring kiss on the forehead. “Lucky me! What about plans tonight then?”
“Let’s keep it low key because if memory serves me, girlfriend can party harder than most men I’ve met!”
“Still she’s a stunner. Any idea why she isn’t been scooped up yet?”
“Yeah,” I said, somewhat reluctantly. “Toni is ‘all that’ except for one thing. She’s what they call ‘aromantic’ – she has no capacity to fall in love, with anyone.”
“But I thought she had a boyfriend? The guy who died in the car accident.”
“First off, Chris was a girl. Second, Chris knew about how Toni was and seemed to love her anyway, took Toni as she was.” I took a sip of tea then added, “Third, Toni always wanted children but swore she wouldn’t raise them alone. She figured she needed a partner. Chris loved kids too, so it was a match. But when Chris died, I got many a moanful email from Toni lamenting that she never would find another that wouldn’t demand love in a marriage, no one would understand that she could care deeply but just couldn’t go that extra step. Since then, it seems she hasn’t tried really. Oh, occasionally I hear about a shag or two but never with the hopefulness in her voice like I did when she met Chris.”
Angus took my hand and thoughtfully sat back on the couch, grateful all over again that he had me. “You still haven’t said why you didn’t grab her up yourself,” he said as if to give me permission, to tell the truth.
I sighed not quite sure, even after all this time together, how much about my addiction I wanted to admit to. “Angus, I think you underestimate how bad off I was. I was suicidal but just too much of a coward to just off myself. When you’ve been drinking like I was, even once you stop, it takes months, if not years for your brain to get straight. By the time my head was clear, Toni was already with Chris. And I was coming to grips with how shameful I’d had been to her – a few of my blackouts came clear. I had put that girl in some right dangerous, horrible circumstances. I couldn’t face myself, let alone her. She was great about it. I tried to apologize but she wouldn’t hear of it. It was too much, so I took off again.”
“For Thailand.”
“By way of Japan.”
“But you kept in touch.”
“Toni tracked me down through my sister,” I said as I finished my cup. “Ciara knew I needed a friend.”
“They met?”
“Briefly when Ciara came to see me once,” I replied, putting the cup on the table. “But they didn’t really get along. Two strong women in one room is a recipe for disaster! But Ciara knew Toni cared and maybe could get through to me, even if it was long distance, so she gave her all my contacts when I disappeared and Toni tried to find me. Ciara was right, of course even though I was pissed at first.” I stood up as a way of ending the conversation, “I’ve got that last lecture at the Center on Monday and I still need to prepare. I’m going in the other room for a bit.” Angus nodded but I could tell he’d rather spend the afternoon with me, so I gave him another assignment. “Why don’t you find us something quiet to do tonight after services? Dinner at that open café you were talking about the other day?”
Angus nodded, “Right.” Then he thought a moment and said, catching me a bit off guard. “Say, ah, you never said. Does Toni even like blokes?” I rolled my eyes at him and he shrugged – you can take the man out of the mansion but you can’t take the playboy out of the man. “I mean you said she still screws around.”
“Oi! Wedding ring!”
“I know but you know me. A good flirt now and then never hurts, eh? And I’d hate to flirt with a gal who wouldn’t even talk to me nicely in the first place.”
“Seriously? I know I gave you permission to take a piece or two occasionally but my best friend? Have you no shame?” I laughed. I grabbed my laptop and a few papers from my messenger bag and returned to him. “Let’s just say she likes her meat just like I do – warm on the outside, red on the inside.”
Angus’s face became downright giddy. I threw a newspaper at him.
*********************************************************
I should have told Angus that Toni is like a dog with a bone when she has a goal in mind. This time the goal was “nailing this fucking competition”. She had “scoped out the competitors” when she went to the studio to drop off our completed application. “They’re weak, Deetz,” she said before we left for the Reform shul around the corner from the hotel. When we got back, she laid out on the dining room table, what seemed like seamstress work done by most garment factories in a week. When I teasingly reminded her of the prohibition against working on Shabbat, she just grumbled and dug more items out of her second suitcase. Angus got the hint and ordered room service.
By the time Angus had everything sorted, Toni was altering my pants – shiny black Spandex that hid nothing. “Jesus man!” Toni noted. “Have you been doing deadlifts or something? Your inner thighs are huge now.” She was busy sewing and did not see Angus blush.
I decided to change the subject. “How are your parents?”
“Ah, yeah, I guess I haven’t had a chance to tell you. They’re here, here in Israel,” she said surprisingly with some sadness.
“They made aliyah with you!”
“Not exactly,” she said shaking out the pants and holding them up to examine her work. “Remember, my father’s still an Israeli citizen. It’s my mom who’s the second generation American.” She folded and neatly placed the pants on the table before examining my matching jacket. She still didn’t look at me while answering, “And no, this isn’t a visit. It’s permanent. My younger sister’s family has already left for Canada and my baby brother will join my parents as soon as his last semester is completed.”
“Has it gotten that bad in the U.S.?” asked Angus as he sat down to make himself a falafel sandwich from the spread brought up by hotel room service.
Toni sighed, face a mixture of uncertainty and forlorn, “It’s nothing big – not like mass deportations, employment bans, or yellow stars pinned to the lapels. Nothing that would make the national or international news. It’s little things – a well-known rabbi harassed in the street, rumors of folks with Jewish-sounding last names being denied or losing jobs, or Nazi graffiti on the side of the odd JCC.” She measured my shoulders and arm length. “My parents figure best to leave now, not get caught up like so many folks have in our past. I guess they’ve been influenced by our French relatives, most of whom left Paris last year.” Instead of carefully removing the stitches from the jacket arms, she cleanly tore them off with a force that reminded me that this woman would be deadly when necessary. “My great-grandmother on my father’s side settled France after the War with what was left of his family. It was my grandmother came to Israel and had my dad,” she added.
“Where are your parents staying?”
“Netanya. My uncle helped them get a house.” She put the jacket transformed into a vest against my chest, imagining me in it like a wedding tailor. But I could sense she was feeling teary, that this trip with Angus and I was maybe really a diversion more than a visit between BFFs.
I was going to give my girl from Detroit a good time. “So, you going to keep this outfit plain?”
My second diversion worked. “Child, please! These guns of yours must be shown. Though, I don’t want your tired ass outshining mine!” She reached into the bottomless suitcase and pulled up her outfit. Well, what there was of it.
I interrupted Angus’s choking on the falafel by hitting him with another newspaper. After clearing the rest of the food from his shirt and throat, he asked, “Don’t you think you need to rehearse?”
Toni looked at me harshly then came at me like an angry circus tiger finally releasing its rage toward an abusive master. This lasted several minutes – we exchanged attacks, throwing one another back and forth around the room applying the best examples of Steven Segal moves from Above the Law, destroying several hotel vases in the process. Slightly breathless, she finally stood up, turned to Angus and said, “Bruce Lee was a Cha Cha champion before becoming a Jeet Kune Do film superstar. Dance is all about body memory and a willing partner.” She winked at me and brushed herself off then took something to eat off the platter.
The phone rang. Angus got up to answer, listened for a moment then responded in fluent Hebrew, “Sorry for the disturbance. Please send a bottle of your best champagne to them and apply the damage costs to our bill.” Toni, looking around the room, was suddenly embarrassed, a bit shocked at the level of breakage the two of us had just caused. Angus waved it off and went back to eating. “Don’t worry. We’re rich.”
Tomorrow night was going to be interesting.
Next day, when I returned from morning services, I found Angus sitting on the couch reviewing some draft legislation he would be voting on in a few months. Toni was at the dining room table still perfecting our costumes. Haydn, Toni’s favorite, murmured through the air like loose stitching. For having just met, the two of them were posed, quietly occupied like an elderly couple enjoying a pleasant afternoon. They both nodded at me casually without speaking. Something about this was disturbingly familiar, like a déjà vu from a past life. I kept wanting to deny it, push it aside but domesticated contentment rolled over me and soon I felt stupid for rejecting it. So, I sat on the couch next Angus and opened my iPad to read, thinking this would ease my mind. Most people relax to an engrossing mystery, intergalactic adventure, or salacious romance. I read philosophy. This time it was a perusal read through the 18th Century Jewish philosopher Maimonides’s Guide for the Perplexed. And while doing so, I ran across this quote:
Further, there are things of which the mind understands one part, but remains ignorant of the other; and when man is able to comprehend certain things, it does not follow that he must be able to comprehend everything.
It has been difficult to accept the fact that despite my telepathic abilities, I don’t know everything. The thoughts and feelings that came from others, either directly or through what they left behind on the objects they touched, were only the boarder pieces of a large picture puzzle. The internal components, other pieces like motives, unconscious desires, and fears are often not readily available in even after the most extensive encounters. People don’t just leave their emotional selves lying around on the kitchen table. And even when I get all the pieces and can assemble the picture, its implications can remain a mystery. I used to base my conclusions on an overidealized black and white or good and bad scale – my umwelt was clouded by rape as a teen by the first adult I really loved. It put me on a path of weighing things based on how much they would hurt me and when. Maturity, good therapy, and Angus helped me see things differently – everything ain’t about me.
Here were the pieces I had about this situation. Once, Toni wanted something from me. Two, her family’s dispersion was not the only thing bothering her. Three, there was something that she couldn’t tell me. Fourth, none of this was malevolent. And fifth, Angus bought me something.
“What?” he asked, catching me grinning at him. He shook his head and tried to return to his legislation. But I kissed his cheek and he brushed me off teasingly.
“Done!” exclaimed Toni, holding up her refurbished outfit.
Angus peered at the fabric, trying to understand what he was looking at. “It looks like a piece of cloth with shiny, beady things on it. I thought this was ballroom dancing not burlesque. Will that even cover everything?”
She giggled and lay it back on the table. “Darlin’, it’s not meant to cover but to jiggle.” She turned to me. “Ready to get ready?”
“Right. There is a gym in the hotel’s lower level.”
“Fabulous! A little cardio and some tai chi then we should be set, you think?” she asked picking up what looked like a grocery list. “And I have a job for you Angus.”
“Huh?”
“This will only work if everyone works, hon,” she said handing him the list and pointed to it as she explained, “I want you to get these items. I’ve looked them up and this store has them all, exactly as I’ve listed them. Here’s the address. It isn’t far you can walk if you want to.”
“But this is make-up,” he said incredulously.
She replied dismissively, “Yes, we are going on stage after all and I won’t have us looking flat and unaffected. The stuff we used to wear is old, useless now.” She started to look in her bag for something else then realized Angus wasn’t getting up. “Sweetie, it isn’t like I’m asking you to buy tampons or something. Get over it. There are enough queer folks up and down this beach that I’m sure they won’t be surprised to see a man ask for blush. Anyway, your conversational Hebrew is likely better than mine. Ready Deetz?” Toni, already dressed in jogging shorts and top, got up, reminding the world that she looked fit no matter what she wore. “We can go through the routine a few times, blow out the cobwebs, eh?”
I took the safer route and didn’t argue with her. “I’ll just change.”
************************************************
“Are you ready?” Toni called out to me as if I was just another item to click off her duffle bag’s checklist.
I was packing as well in the bedroom. But it was Angus who answered for me, “He’ll be ready in a minute. We’ll meet you in the lobby.” I gave him a questioning look.
“Okie dokes!” I heard her grab stuff off the table then the door open and shut.
He waited a moment, likely to be certain she was gone. He closed the door to the bedroom for good measure. “You’re not properly dressed.”
“Huh?”
He offered a sly smile then pulled out something from the desk drawer and presented a thick black box to me. The silver bow was a nice touch. I took the moment most people do to consider what it could be – I don’t wear jewelry other than my wedding ring and slave necklace; it could be a new mobile but I just got one last month; the box was too small to be a book, not even a paperback and I usually do my reading electronically . . . .. “Stop thinking about it and open it,” Angus instructed.
“Yes, Your Grace,” I replied, now reckoning the gift was in that vein.
If you looked around the Internet, you’d get the impression that BDSM is a form of sex play and I suppose for some it is. If what you knew about it came from porn or the latest politician’s scandal, you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s all about discomfort or subjugation and the diabolical means of producing it. I never did enjoy pain. And slavery was abolished in the Empire in 1833, although the game continued to be played under other names – but one of those names didn’t happen to be Mac Innes as we Jews gave up that shit with the Pharaoh when we joined G-d’s team.
Angus and I practice a form of Kinoko Hajime’s Kimbaku, a sect within Japanese shibari (rope) philosophy. The Japanese see everything as theater for which we playout our inner most fears, desires, and hopes. In a society where the parts are quelled into the whole, self-expression becomes an intricate artist’s stage. In kimbaku the bondagees are the protagonists and the kimbakushi are just the supporting actors. The kimbakushi’s job is to intuit then depict the bondagee’s aspirations and needs. The kimbakushi use factors like superficial tension, sweat, respiration, corporal oscillation and heart rate are like electronic driving directions to ensure proper placement. The fashion and choice of the binding correlates to the moment and thus is different each session. Sessions can last hours, even days for those folks who don’t have jobs.
I opened the box top – inside was a new chastity harness and jock cup. “You do have feelings for this woman. That’s fine. But I want to see what it looks like in its purest form, not tainted by your dirty thoughts.” He rubbed my slightly harden dick through my sweats with the back of his hand for good measure. I groaned, wondering how I was going to get soft enough to get this thing on, especially as I was trying and failing at not responding to his rubbing. “Breath out,” Angus demanded in a wisped tone. I obeyed and he moved his hand inside my pants. The origin hand was cold and the suddenness of it startled me. “What do you want me to do, eh?” He really didn’t care because he’d already decided. “You think because you’re doing something special, I should give you something special.” I was fully engorged now and my dick was moving toward him like a shivering man in the rain seeking shelter. He used his other hand, the prosthetic one, to grab the bottom of my shirt and push my hips closer to his other hand. My lips involuntarily parted and my nostrils inhaled the scent of fresh sandalwood from his cologne. He licked just under my ear and the wetness became more pronounced when out of his breath came, “Unusual and special are not the same thing. If you’re good, you’ll get special later.” I hardly had time to close my eyes and let that thought register before he pulled his hand out and pulled my pants down. He then pushed me down so that I fell back on the bed like a ragdoll – I forgot that he is also strong. I thought to sit up but Angus put his prosthetic hand on my belly and his mouth around the head of my dick. Before setting into a steady rhythm, he sat up and said, “I don’t want you thinking of me at all when you’re dancing with her tonight. I’m going to take me out of you. My mouth will set you free, for now.”
Okay, this was some sexy freaky magic stuff. His mouth somehow found ever crevasse where my love for him was comfortably resting, including those hidden places where extra love was kept so I wouldn’t drown due weeping during the long separations while I was in rabbinical school. His tongue lapped against the top of my balls, pulling my cum up like a drilling bit releasing oil from a virgin field. And when whatever was connected to him began to flow upwards, his lips massaged it out my cock’s opening leaving me feeling frighten by the void it left in my soul. When I could finally stop shaking, I sat up. “I’m frightened,” said a voice of a much younger me.
He mopped up what was left of my cum from the corners of his mouth before it stuck to his beard then lapped it off his origin hand. He was expressionless as he picked up the device I’d dropped on my way down on the bed. He dismantled the pieces deftly and put it aside. He then licked my dick like a mother cat cleans her new born kitten. My dick was exhausted and I was still riddled with fear, so I wasn’t getting hard again for a while. I hadn’t been without his love in so long, I’d forgotten just how lonely and empty the world could be. He wrapped and locked my dick in a stainless steel cage connected to a cock ring that fit snugly around my ball shack then secured it all using two separate locks. He put both keys in his jean’s pocket and handed me the black jock cup. “Put this on when you change into your dancer’s pants to keep the locks from jiggling too much.”
I felt better already.
******************************************
It really had been a while since I was meat on the open market. I’d forgotten how nice it was to be cruised. Toni’s needlework had transformed bland Spandex pants and vest into black glitter sprayed over tight abs and arse. Blimey, I wanted to fuck me. Getting dressed in the men’s area of the dance hall, I was pissing off the younger queens, many of whom were looking for hook-ups for after the competition. The older ones were likely straight and wanting to know the name of my trainer.
But it was Toni who lit up the floor. Coming out of the changing area, I saw her at the entrance to the dance hall, getting our tag number. The only thing tamed on that body was her Jew fro, which she had bound in a tight bun like an ADHD kid on a Ritalin drip. The crimson clothe that was desperately trying to mimic a flowing uneven cut spaghetti string dress hung valiantly over every curve like soldier struggling up the beach on D-Day. When she bent forward to sign something, her breasts looked like they were going to leap out and slap the judge – he was about to have the world’s best heart attack. When she stood up and turned toward me, she waved me over, leading the yellow flowers and green baubles strategically placed on the outfit to jiggle like jello on a summer day. Her make-up, which on someone else would look clownish, was perfectly blended and the sparkles on her exposed skin left you wondering how far down the glitter went. Her shapely long legs came toward me, reminding me that we were here just to dance. The chastity device felt like it was tightening around my dick and I suddenly wished I could touch myself. No, that wasn’t true. I wanted her to touch me. “Honey, you’re whiter than usual,” she said when I got close enough.
“Right,” I swallowed, attempting to regain my composure, “you got everything?”
She wrapped her arm around mine, guiding me toward the benches where the dancers waited to be called. “Scoped out this competition. Sad, simply sad,” she tried to whisper above the crackling PA system and chattering crowd. When we found a spot, and sat down, she leaned in. Her jasmine perfume moved past me and I found myself wanting to locate where on her body it originated. “We outta nail this easy,” she added. Her hand was soft, creamy so when she came in closer and touched my chest I got a bit dizzy. “Are you okay? Angus isn’t mad at you, eh? Or is he jealous? I hope he isn’t jealous. He really has no reason to be. Did you guys have a fight or something. I wondered why you took so long to come downstairs.”
“Everything is fine, Toni.” I searched her mind to see if she had any idea of what I was thinking and feeling but I found nothing – she was singularly concentrated on winning. This pissed me off. “Angus, he was just wishing me good luck.”
She grinned knowingly. “Oh my! Nice to know there is still romance in the marriage, eh?”
I turned my attention to the first couple on the floor. This competition was strictly Latin dances, cha-cha-cha, rumba, paso doble, samba, and argentine tango. We were set for the last two. The samba was originally a Brazilian dance, with lots of hip rolling from both partners and tight spins by the female. The movements are sharp and quick but playful to either a 2/4 or 4/4 beat. Toni and I always composed choreography that told the story of a man chasing a woman who coquettishly teased him, stringing him along throughout the dance.
We were the third in line to perform. Arms wide open, I escorted her onto the floor like I was introducing the Queen and she shook that ass so that the plumage attached to the skirt’s tail slapped the face of everyone in the room. The music started – Running with the Night by Lionel Richie – not exactly traditional but it spoke of our former lives together. Facing each other, I motioned for her to come hither. She grinned and shook her head no. I ground my hips in full circle and she turned her back to me then did the same while doing a backward square into my chest. I took her hand and spun her around so she was facing me again and we moved through a series of rapid side steps until she spun out, pulling everyone’s attention with her. As I moved toward her again, I noted the hush in the room. Toni had them captivated. She was teasing them as much as she was fucking with me, fluttering her long lashes and blowing kisses around the room before I’d yank her attention back to me. Near the end of our 60 second session, I finally caught her. My hands moved her hips in wide circles while grinding her butt against my pelvis in a manner that made at least two judges gasp. We ended with me spinner her around again and lifting her up then having her slowly slide down my body, our lips so close that the audience finished the kiss for us. “Nice job, Mr. Welshman!” she mouthed. I stepped away and presented her again for our bow and to keep myself from taking her right there on that hardwood floor.
We headed toward the dressing rooms, me to tidy up and change into a white vest and her to put on her tango dress. On my way there, Angus popped up. He rather aggressively grabbed me by the elbow. “I’ve never seen you move like that,” he growled.
I looked at his prosthetic hand, squeezing me like an accusation, and as my eyes traveled up to his face, I said, “Yes you have, only you were too busy groaning at the time.” He let go and put up his hands in feign surrender. I watched him back away and become reabsorbed into the audience and darkness. I sensed his feelings were hurt by my coldness but I felt justified. He had created the perimeters of tonight’s game and would lose stature as a Dom if he changed the rules mid-stream. He’d charged me with finding just how far my feelings for Toni went. I had a job to do and I was doing it.
In a few minutes, Toni and I emerged from the dressing rooms back to the sidelines of the dance floor like royalty. The couple who were presenting lost the audience because eyes were on us. Toni had her nose in the air, above it all like she was doing them a favor. She was wearing a plain beige trench coat with a turned-up collar, tied at the waist, and at a length that dropped below her knees - all of which I’m sure was a disappointment to the men and at least ½ of the women in the crowd. By the time we returned to our spot on the benches, the couple on stage had completed their routine. I’d swear the guy gave us the finger.
We were the last couple to do the tango. As they announced our names, Toni walked onto the floor while undoing the coat. When she got the center, she let it fall off, revealing a little black dress, albeit with a lengthy skirt portion. She made a sharp turn toward me as I started walking to her, realizing the music hadn’t started and wondering if there was a sound problem or she had planned it like this. In a dramatic flair, she unhooked something that let the wrap portion of the skirt fall, revealing a shorter portion and creating a long, dramatic trail. I hope she shaved close last night.
Suddenly, Earth, Wind, and Fire’s Boogie Wonderland started playing. She came up to me fast, grabbing at my ivory white vest and ripping it cleanly off my body. It shocked me as much as my sparkling brand shocked the audience. “Oh bitch, it’s on!” I mouthed to her. She threw her head back as if to laugh at me and I yanked her against my chest and took over. If she controlled the samba, I owned this tango. I swirled her around, moving her body like a lollipop against your tongue – the answer is it’s steady, long licks that get you to the center of the Tootise Pop. Sometimes I dipped her, pulling her leg up by her thigh then moving my hand in circles, going above the skirt line and leaving the audience wondering where my fingers were dipping. My brand was swirling, and considering how aroused I was, that wasn’t surprising. But the longer we danced, the more it appeared her body was glowing as well. This shit was so erotic I could feel the judges asking themselves if this was somehow against the rules.
When we finished, Toni said breathlessly, “Damn dude! We nailed it!”
With the audience screaming and whistling, we walked off the floor but this time I had my arm around her. Smiling and nodding to the crowd, I replied, “Nailed it?” When we reached the edge of the floor, I pulled her back into my arms and said, “I’m not done, not at all.” I kissed her. Those full lips quickly relaxed and when she let my tongue in her mouth, I felt her sigh.
Angus came out of the shadows and stood behind me. He put his hand on my shoulder then said, “Slow down. You need to get your trophy first.” Toni just stood there, slightly shocked. “This isn’t our first time, Luv,” he said to her. He pulled me off her and turned me around to kiss me just as passionately. “You need to calm yourself first,” he said resuming our play. “Calm down before you can get your special reward.”
I must have forgotten who was boss.
********************************************
Toni tried to get Angus to stay for lessons but he deftly declined, claiming that his “left feet had cold feet” now that he saw the two of us. Instead, we walked back along the beach to the hotel, the two of them laughing about our opponents and Toni sharing stories of our other competitions. My earlier erotic feelings had diminished and I was left feeling foolish, relying on a well-worn coping strategy - sarcasm. This was too bad because another, smarter side of me noted the beautiful full moon sparkling off the Mediterranean, the delicious smells from sidewalk food vendors, and the joyous laughter from two of my favorite people. Nice Deetz. Stupid behavior was why you quit drinking. Now, if you’re mean, you can remember and enjoy it days later.
Luckily these folks know me well and still seem to ignore my trespasses. “Ok Mr. Grumpy,” started Angus, giving Toni a knowing nod, “I’ll stop flirting with your BFF if you lighten up, right?”
“I really don’t mind Angus,” replied Toni, “you’re really good at it. I can see why the ladies loved you! Now I know just why this one couldn’t stop talking about you.” She suddenly stopped and said, “Mmm that smells good,” and turned toward the hawker we’d just passed.
I was about to continue expressing my foul mood when Angus shoved me. “Alright. That’s enough.” He grabbed me by my elbow, this timeless harshly than before. “What’s wrong?” he asked sympathetically. “I thought you liked dancing. You certainly looked hot out there.”
His encouraging smile was unnerving me. “I don’t know really. I’m kinda awash in old feelings and a weird sense of uncertainty like something’s going on I should know about.”
“Mate, you’ve been saying this since Toni got here. Either confront her or leave it alone, let things ride out.” He put his hand on my shoulder as she shouted for us to join her. “I’m not psychic like you but I’m not feeling anything malevolent on her part – she genuinely seems to care about you and wants to have a good time with us.” He started walking us toward her and food. “And as for your belated feelings, let it go. As I see it, you didn’t do so bad in the end”. He slapped my ass which made my dick tingle in the harness again.
We returned to the penthouse with two plastic first place statues and bag of Japanese take out – udon noodles solve everything as far as I’m concerned and if I thought Donald Trump had class and could think, I would suggest it as a way to smooth things over with Abe. The smell of that shit was calming me down – you know, the fastest way to a man’s heart and all. Plus, Toni made some banging sweet tea we all consumed greedily. I ate, smoked some of the latest weed from Angus’s recent Colorado investment, while alternating between two very good shows, Cary Grant wooing Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday and Angus charming Toni’s panties off. Angus is a lot like Cary Grant – a straight acting guy accessing lots of pussy while living with another man. I always wondered what he would have done if marriage equality existed in 1940s Hollywood.
I’ve bounced between both sides of the fence and danced on the spikes for a lifetime. I liked fit birds but blokes were easier to negotiate – you at least gotta buy a bitch a Happy Meal, was my old tag line. With blokes, it was all about who was tab A and which was slot B. But when I quit drinking and found my tagline was actually true, without liquid courage, when chatting up slappers I sounded like the science club president at the star footballer’s afterparty. At least in Thailand the Lady Bois thought I was cute – that’s why I lived there for so long. So, as I watched my husband chat her up, I wasn’t jealous but envious of his confidence. Not that I didn’t have skills once the bra came off.
I must have dozed because I don’t think the Hays Code would have allowed Rosalind to make the kind of moaning noises I was hearing. I had slid down in the art décor recliner and had to wipe the bit of saliva that had accumulated on my chin before I could look back to the couch. It took me a minute to get the scene into focus and I did scratch my head like Huckleberry Hound on a 1960s TV screen. Geeze, you’d think I’d get to fuck my BFF before my husband did!
Well, I did what every good Sub would in this situation – I arranged things. First, I muted the tellie and put on music – my favorite Spotify playlist (iPods were so 2009), a nice mix of old jazz, classic blues, sprinkled with some anthem rock. Then I opened the French patio doors to let in the summer breeze and the pretty moonlight. I turned off the lights and took off my clothes then put everyone’s haute couture neatly over a dinette chair – I am the son of a valet after all and wrinkles bother me. I pulled out a bottled water from the mini-bar then returned to the recliner, turning it so I could watch the show and do what I do best, listen and think.
Upon seeing me with one leg lazily laying over one arm of the chair while leaning my head against the corner of the chair’s high back, one would think I was cuing at some large American box store at 6 am on Black Friday, not watching live porn. How was I so confident that this wasn’t a threat to my marriage? Because Angus was not just my husband but my best mate, had been since we were kids. Lady Nora said there was some destiny that connected us, some Druidic family lore that bonded the men in our families as far back as the mid-1800s. More importantly to me though was the fact that fundamentally Angus was not what folks call “gay” or “homosexual” and his sex with me didn’t make him “bisexual” either. It wasn’t about a label but about me – he loved me and, more importantly, wanted to care for me and nobody else had ever wanted that job. Why? Fuck if I knew. He said it's ‘cause everyone else who wanted to be with him was only in it for his money, his title, or his looks. I was the only one who simply wanted him. As for the Dom-Sub stuff, well, I was, am, and always will be a forceful leader with an inferiority complex and someone had to manage both parts of my substantive ego – who better than an earl who can’t tell me no?
“Deetz,” Angus summoned quietly.
“Huh? Right, my turn?” I asked, my mind returning to the matter at hand.
Toni was now standing over me, dangling the keys to my harness off her pinky finger. She got on her knees and started unlocking. I spread my legs ostensibly so she wouldn’t pinch me while removing it but she took it more as an invitation. I must have been looking at her funny because she asked, “Are you sure about this? I know you and Angus have a clear relationship but . . . things between us seem more . . . complex.”
I studied her, so lovely in the moonlight, her jasmine oil mussed together with Angus’s sweat. Then I glanced at Angus, blissed out on the couch, some of Toni’s sparkles on his naked body where she had rubbed against him. “Shit girl,” I said, rubbing my penis back to life after she finally got the thing off, “all we Reeses and Mac Innes do is complex.” I stood up, did a good stretch, took her hand then gathered my man and resumed my family leadership role. “And at this point, if I didn’t fuck you, this motherfucker would leap off me and do it all by itself and we can’t have that now, can we? I mean really! If you don’t think I have a conscious, the dude down here is downright sociopathic!”
We got in the bedroom and I grabbed a remote to turn up the music in this room and down in the living area. Toni turned down the joint Angus offered and got into the bed, wiggling to the center. Angus handed the joint to me. I took a quick hit, just to return my high to its previous mellow hallucinogenic levels and handed it back. He dropped on the bed, sitting up against pillows and stared out the window, likely enjoying a similar state as I did just a few minutes ago. I looked down at Toni, who had strategically arranged the bedding. Laying flat on her back, biting a corner of her lower lip and casually circling her belly, she looked like a reluctant cobra but, then again, didn’t letting someone inside for the first time always make you nervous?
I inhaled deeply and laid down next to her, simultaneously pulling on her side as well. I kissed her deeply, folding her body around mine. She was incredibly responsive, moaning quietly into my mouth while my right hand held her face. When our lips settled into a rhythm, I moved my left hand slowly down her shoulder and arm. I interlaced her fingers with mine and pulled her hand over her head while deftly doing the same with the other, returning her to her back with me straddling her hips. She let out a laugh at my smooth move, as I crossed the two wrists together signaling that they should be kept stationary. “It’s still all about control with you, isn’t it,” she purred.
“Shh!” I insisted, using my left hand to hold the wrists together and against the headboard. “Not control but letting go. It is the only way to see the real person.” I brushed my lips along her neck and felt her carotid artery pulse against my tongue. “And everyone has a lock,” I licked some more then slowly moved my free hand down her body where I found a very wet pussy, “that once you release,” within the folds I found a small ring, “opens the doors wide”. Just holding that piercing sent a cascade of tremors up and down her thighs. Yum.
Since I had her, I let go of her wrists and moved my lips down to her breasts, with those lovely puffy areolas. Toni is one of those gals for whom breasts are just decorative invitations, not an erogenous zone – at least that’s what she once told me. But what the hell, I liked the fleshy bounce when I tugged on a nipple then let go. And it didn’t distract from my steady rolling the hoop back and forth through the hole in her flesh. I found that if I tugged in a specific direction, her shimmering intensified and I would get those lovingly two words I so enjoy. “Deetz, please.”
“Please, what?” I took my mouth off her breast and looked up at her. Toni’s mouth was parted, her eyes on fire. I licked my lips and increased my twisting while watching her cum with an earthquake scale of 5.9 – not a bad start.
I kept my fingers holding the hoop and nuzzled against her breast while waiting for her breathing to ease. I let my mind dig into hers a bit. I found all the warm fuzzies - increased heart rate, contented nerve endings, the release of prolactin. But nothing more than those physiological changes which was not so much off-putting but odd.
Put your tongue and lips on any normal human’s genitalia and they’ll love you for life. I happened to enjoy eating pussy – all those juices, sweat, and hormones make my pallet happy. I motioned my finger fully inside then pulled out that dripping snatch and was rewarded with a lapping sound like water against the seashore. I moved down and made a spot for myself between legs that opened eagerly. I stuck my finger inside and let her start fucking it. Through her trimmed pubic hair, her clit stood out of the hood like a one-eyed jack. Before settling into producing the next quakes, I noted that one of her vaginal lips, the one with the loop, was significantly larger than the other. Toni must have noticed my gynecological observation because she said, “Chris said it looked cute. That’s why I got the piercing there.”
“Smart woman, that Chris was,” I complemented, not wanting to distract with difficult memories. I kissed the still eager clit then gave Toni a reassuring smile before getting to work. I started with slow licks with slight flicks with my tip, I positioned my pointer finger inside her and let her grind against it while I wiggled it at the top knuckle. She was moaning and calling my full name but I sensed only a 7.6 aftershock coming on and I have a reputation to uphold. So, I soak my middle finger as well and put it in her asshole. She went dead still for a minute and then lost her mind. Her hips bucked against my hand and face so hard I became momentarily concerned about broken fingers and a dislocated jaw. Yeah, that’s right – ah, the satisfaction of a good ol’ fashioned 8.9 quake.
But I felt really good – that sense of satisfaction men get when they finish building something. It’s like, “Here honey! Look what I did! I built the barn from scratch, all for your chickens.” You get up from that and expect your female partner to welcome you with open arms, be all grateful, full of desire to reward you and shit. Instead, I sat up and went to kiss her, to let her drink of herself and when I looked into her soul, it looked back at me and said, “What?” not in a sarcastic or dismissive tone but as if I had just served an average cup of tea. I thought for a moment – maybe she was one of those unusual women who get their best jollies from being fucked. Okay, I was still fashioning a raging hard-on, I could accommodate. I put my banger inside and started moving in and out, first slow and deliberate. But I couldn’t fuck her right enough or, eventually fast and hard enough to escape this feeling of hollowness. Her body was making all the right responses but I couldn’t find her in it and that was distressing.
I felt something warm and wet touch my ass and then a finger move in my hole. At first, I let out an irritated groan but this didn’t stop him. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said lifting Toni’s legs a bit higher to improve his angle inside of me. This certainly shifted things and I somehow found the 4x4 beat that creates any good orgasm. Angus may not have psychic abilities but he rests inside of me and when I sense him there, everything feels corrected, at ease somehow. I comprehended the gap between being with him and sexing up with Toni. My brand was sparking off again and each time he thrust inside of me, an orange light would ignite then dim in all of us. Something that could have ended badly became that 9.1 I thought I could achieve all by myself.
After he felt me cum, he pulled me off her and into his arms. He wrapped his body around me like a swaddled baby, reaching down to drape the sheets and comforter over all of us for good measure. After I stopped shaking and my brand calmed down, he sat up on his elbow. His legs continued to hold me close but he used his free hand to trace around the tattoos on my arms. Angus gave me a comforting kiss on the back of my head as if to say that everything would be fine. But it didn’t feel like anything was wrong, just off. Angus gave voice to what was going on in my mind, “You never were in love with him, were you?”
Toni sat up and turned on the lamp on the nearby nightstand before covering herself as if what just happened hadn’t. “Don’t get me wrong,” Toni said, “Deetz is a lush meal and I adore him. But, I could never take care of him, not like you, not like you always have.”
“So, what was all that, eh?” Angus asked in my defense, albeit with a lot less hostility than what I was starting to feel.
“I believe you British call it settling things”. She stretched a bit and yawned. “I’d best be getting to my bed and some sleep. I’ve got to leave early for my bus back to Jerusalem.” She leaned over, offering Angus a peck on the cheek. She looked down at me like a mother who had just treated the latest childish boo-boo. “Please don’t be angry for too long, Deetz. I’ll let you call me first.” And just a simply as she bounced in, she bounced out my bed, closing the door behind her.
“Deetz?” Angus called to me. “She never lied to you. She never lied about who she was, who she is.”
I wouldn’t turn and look at him but he knew I was crying – truth be told it is men who are the true romantics and I couldn’t help but feel that someone had just broken up with me. “I know,” I responded but I can’t help but feel she’s taking something of me with her.”
“I know what you mean with that,” he said. He reached around and tugged at me enough to convince me to turn around. He laid back down, his green eyes soothing and full of reassurance. “But, for some reason, I’m not worried. Not yet anyway.”
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