CHAPTER 51
The girl’s tits were huge. As she straddled Reilly’s lap, grinding her crotch against his, the twin globes of her breasts were thrust into his face. They were bare, and the girl was running her fingertips over the nipples. They were close enough that, if he chose to, he could simply stick out his tongue and lick them.
Thankfully, she still had her thong on, although the tiny strip of shiny gold material did little to cover her. She had, he saw, shaved her pussy completely, so that she resembled a Barbie come to life, her sex a piece of bare molded plastic. He wondered vaguely whether he would find the Matel logo stamped on her backside if he slid the thong off.
The girl flipped her long blond hair and made a face that, he supposed, was meant to inspire lust. Instead, it was just making him feel sorry for her. She was trying so hard.
“Isn’t this better than a fucking poker game?”
Peter, or maybe Paul, clapped Reilly on the back.
“Oh, yeah,” Reilly said. “Much better.”
“We really fooled you with that one, huh?”
Reilly nodded as the girl moaned in his ear. “Sure did,” he replied.
“So, when’s the wedding?” the girl asked him.
“End of the month,” Reilly told her.
“Cool,” she replied, for no apparent reason. “Do you like my tits?”
Reilly dutifully looked at her breasts, which she was pressing together for his benefit.
“They’re real,” the girl cooed. “I bet you’d like to fuck them, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t think my fiancée would be very keen on that idea,” Reilly told her.
Suddenly, the song that had been playing—Billy Idol’s “Cradle of Love”—stopped. As if her actions were tied to the song’s notes, the girl got off of Reilly’s lap and walked away, disappearing behind a curtained doorway. Another song, this time KISS singing “Lick It Up,” blared through the room as a new girl, a brunette, entered and almost immediately removed her bra to whoops of appreciation from the men around her.
“Isn’t this place hot?”
Reilly turned and looked at his soon-to-be brothers-in-law. All four of them were seated around the table in the middle of the aptly named Kit Kat Box. Each of them had a seven-dollar bottle of Budweiser in his hand and a look of drunken excitement on his face.
“Where did you guys find this place?” Reilly yelled over the deafening music.
“One of the guys Paul works with told him about it,” answered Peter, solving the riddle of which twin was which.
Reilly made a mental note to kill Paul’s buddy. He’d agreed to an evening of fun with Peter, Paul, Manuel Jr., and Gabe because he’d assumed they wouldn’t do anything so stupid. But they had, driving nearly two hours to reach the strip club. The only good thing about it, as far as Reilly was concerned, was that there was no way anyone Donna knew would find out about it and tell her.
“Hey, boys.” The brunette had come over to their table, and was smiling at each of them in turn. “Anyone want a private dance?”
The Estoril boys all pointed at Reilly and laughed uproariously.
“He’s getting married!” they yelled in chorus.
“Really?” said the brunette. “Then I’ll have to give you something special, won’t I?”
Before Reilly could answer, she straddled his lap and took up where the blonde had left off. There were the tits again, and the shaved pussy. There was the grinding of the crotch. There were the bargain basement porn film come-ons. Reilly steeled himself for four minutes of feigned arousal.
When it was over, the Estoril brothers tipped the girl handsomely and she left, disappearing into the place behind the curtain where, apparently, an endless supply of girls with enormous breasts and shaved pussies was kept solely for the purpose of entertaining the men who shouted for more.
“Man, I’m surprised you didn’t pop off in your pants the way she was dry humping you,” Manuel Jr. said to Reilly. “I’d have to change my underwear by now.”
“Good thing I don’t wear any, then, isn’t it?” Reilly said, earning more guffaws from the boys.
“Seriously,” Peter said when they all stopped laughing. “It’s going to be fucking cool having you for a brother-in-law, man. I mean it.”
He put an arm around Reilly and pulled him close.
“Thanks,” Reilly said, waiting patiently for Peter to release him.
“Yeah,” Gabriel said, nodding. “Welcome to the family.” He raised his beer, which was quickly joined in the air by those of his brothers. Reilly lifted his own beer and tapped it once against each of the other bottles.
“To Reilly!” Paul said jovially.
“To Reilly!” the others echoed as they all drank.
Two hours, four more beers, and two additional lap dances later, they were all pretty well shit-faced. Only Gabe, who was driving, had stopped drinking and switched to water.
“I think it’s time to get you bad boys home to bed,” Gabe said, earning groans of protest from the others.
“Come on,” Peter said, sounding like a little boy begging to be allowed to stay up an extra hour. “One more titty dance.”
“You’ve had enough,” Gabe said, standing up. “Now get to the car. All of you.”
Complaining loudly, the guys all stood up and managed to get themselves to the car without incident. Reilly sat in front with Gabe, while Paul, Peter, and Manuel Jr. climbed into the back. The beer had done its trick, and Reilly was feeling the effects.
“What time is it?” he asked sleepily.
“Half past one,” said Gabe, peering at the car’s dashboard clock.
“Shit,” Manuel Jr. said from the backseat. “We have to take Mom to Mass in five hours.”
“Which is just enough time to get home, wash the smell of pussy and smoke off, and get a little sleep,” Peter said.
“Man, Reilly’s gonna have to steam-clean all the pussy off of his pants,” joked Paul.
“How about I just give you my pants to sniff?” Reilly shot back, making the others howl.
They continued to joke with one another on the ride home, but soon a tired silence settled over the car as each man grew too weary to keep up the conversation. Reilly leaned his head against the window and looked out at the passing darkness.
He thought about the women who had tried, albeit purely for financial reasons, to excite him at the club. Some of them had been beautiful, very beautiful. And all of them had done things to him that should have had him aching to get off. Yet he hadn’t felt desire for any of them. He liked to think that this was because of his loyalty to Donna, and to their relationship, but the truth went much deeper than that. The fact was, he hadn’t been aroused by them because he hadn’t been attracted to them. And not just to them, but to the idea of them, of being with them.
He closed his eyes. His head hurt. He tried to picture himself making love with any one of the girls who had sat on his lap during the night. But try as he might, their images faded quickly. What replaced them was the memory of the man in the truck beside him in the parking lot, his hand moving up and down his cock, his cum spraying into the air as he came.
He opened his eyes and looked out at the road. In a few weeks he would be married to Donna, he told himself. Donna, whom he loved, whom he made love to. Yes, a voice in his head said. But what do you think about when you make love to her?
Men. The answer came to him quickly, looming in his thoughts like a monstrous shadow blotting out everything else. Men. He thought about men when he made love to Donna. And more and more lately, the men he thought about all shared one face.
“Here we are.”
Reilly looked out the window. Without his even knowing it, they had arrived back in P-Town. Gabe had pulled up in front of Reilly’s house.
“Thanks, guys,” Reilly said as he opened the door and half fell, half climbed out. “I had a great time.”
The brothers all waved and shouted their drunken good-byes as Gabe pulled away, honking the horn three times. Reilly watched them go, then turned to let himself into his house. He was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed.
But as he inserted the key in the lock and started to turn it, he stopped. He didn’t want to go inside. He didn’t want to get into his own bed, alone, and lay there thinking about his life. He didn’t want to close his eyes and see the face that had been haunting his thoughts and dreams.
He turned and walked away from the house. He knew he was too drunk to drive, so he kept walking. He walked down the road and, turning left, kept walking. He walked for perhaps half an hour until he came to Oyster Lane. Then he proceeded to walk up the driveway of number 37 and into the backyard. When he reached the guest house, he pounded heavily on the door.
There was no answer, so he pounded again. This time he heard someone shuffling across the floor.
“Who is it?” Josh’s voice came to him through the wood.
“It’s me,” Reilly said, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “Let me in.”
He heard Josh turning the lock, then saw a soft sliver of light as Josh opened the door a crack.
“Reilly?” he said.
“I want to come in,” said Reilly.
“Why are you here?” asked Josh, rubbing his eyes. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Please,” Reilly said. “Let me in.”
Josh looked at him for a moment, then opened the door. Relieved, Reilly walked inside. Josh shut the door, then turned around. Reilly saw that he was wearing nothing but a pair of blue plaid boxer shorts. In the moonlight, the dark hair of his body contrasted even more with his pale skin.
“Where have you been?” Josh asked, sniffing the air. “You smell like a brewery.”
“I want to stay here,” Reilly answered, ignoring the question. “Tonight. I want to stay here. With you.”
Josh stared at him. “You’re drunk,” he said.
Reilly stepped forward and took Josh in his arms. For the second time, he kissed him. Only this time, when he was done he didn’t run away.
“Come on,” he said, taking Josh by the hand.
He walked into Josh’s bedroom. There he kissed Josh again, this time allowing his hands to roam over Josh’s bare skin. Touching him, he felt all of the excitement he hadn’t felt with the women of the Kit Kat Box.
He felt Josh pulling his shirt from his jeans, tugging at the buttons of his fly. Reilly helped him, sliding his shirt over his head and removing his shoes. Sliding his jeans down, he stood in front of Josh naked, waiting. His thoughts ran together like water, his head spinning in excitement, fear, and wonder.
Josh kissed him. “I’ll be right back,” he said. Then he turned and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Reilly lay down on the bed. Josh’s bed. He could smell him on the sheets, feel the warmth where he’d been sleeping. He breathed deeply. This, he thought, was where he belonged. He closed his eyes and waited for Josh to return to him.