Chapter Sixteen

 

 

Thirst woke me along with an opposing urge to expel water. Opening my eyes I blinked a few times trying to clear my blurry vision and muzzy mind. I heard music and puzzled as to where it was coming from. The realisation cleared both vision and mind. The radio was still on in the living room. Christ! I stared up at the ceiling as the events of the night before came back to me with startling clarity.

I turned my head to view him. He had rolled away from me at some point in the night and was curled on his side sleeping soundly. He was an attractive sight, the long slope of his back curving out into the knolls of his buttocks. All the same my heart pounded with stone cold sober dismay. I lay for a few moments taking deep breaths trying to collect myself and then got carefully out of bed to go to the bathroom.

After peeing, I pulled on my bathrobe and walked into the living room to turn off the radio and then into the kitchen. Coffee was called for. Strong coffee. I put a pot on to brew and then washed two paracetamol down with a long glass of cold water in the hope it would take away the dull headache throbbing behind my eyes.

Sitting at the kitchen table I propped an elbow on it, cupped my chin in my hand and began reviewing the situation.

Spontaneous heat of the moment sex is wonderful, in the moment. The complications come later when the moment has passed. I could not deny I’d enjoyed the physical aspects of the encounter with Dee-Dee. It had been the best blow job I’d ever had. James had never given fellatio and nor had he allowed me to fuck him, as Dee-Dee had been willing to do. James always said it was the prerogative of the older man to top. In reality I think he was afraid of my size. In our relationship I had been the willing giver of oral and receiver of cock.

The coffee pot peeped a signal its contents were ready. I poured a mug of the rich black liquid, sitting back down again. Did I regret what had happened? Yes. It didn’t feel right. Another wave of dismay swept over me. I didn’t want to repeat the pattern I’d had with James. I didn’t want another friend with benefits and nor was I ready for a relationship. Maybe I never would be. Maybe it wasn’t within my personality to commit to someone up front and openly. I liked Dee-Dee, but we barely knew each other. We were in the early stages of friendship. By a single spontaneous, drunken, act we might have strangled the possibility of developing a deep and lasting friendship. The thought grieved me.

Picking up the mug I took a sip of coffee and then closed my eyes, inhaling the aroma, letting the steam mist my face. If only I possessed the power to go back in time.

“Hi.”

I almost let the mug slip from my hands, as Dee-Dee’s voice sounded. Setting it on the table I looked to where he was standing in the kitchen doorway. His hair was tousled. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched. His charming blush was in evidence, staining his cheeks with pastel pink. I felt burn spots pulse in my own cheeks.

“Do you want a coffee? I’ve just brewed some.” I stood up.

“Yes please, a headache tablet would be nice too. I think I might have a bit of a hangover.”

“You and me both.” I pointed at a drawer. “There’s some in there. Help yourself.”

While he took a couple of paracetamol, I poured him a mug of coffee and put it on the kitchen table opposite mine. “Milk’s in the fridge if you want some.”

“Thanks.” He got the milk out of the fridge and brought it across to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down before pouring some into his coffee. His hands were shaking. I wasn’t surprised, mine were too, nerves I suppose at facing up to what had happened between us.

He must have dressed in haste because I suddenly noticed his shirt was buttoned up the wrong way. I had an urge to lean over and redo the buttons, but quelled it. It would be too intimate a gesture, too open to misinterpretation. Instead I asked if he wanted breakfast.

“No thanks. I couldn’t eat a thing.”

There was an embarrassed silence. He broke it first, his blush deepening, spreading down his neck.

“Si,” he swallowed nervously, “about last night. I’m sorry, I…”

I held up a hand to stop him. “No, Dee-Dee. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think I took advantage of you? I had no intention for what happened to happen.”

“You didn’t take advantage. I think I might have made the first move. I was drunk.”

“We were both drunk.” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t think either of us has, not in the sense of being bad, unwise perhaps, foolish, but not bad. We had too much to drink and got carried away on a cloud of alcohol enhanced testosterone.”

“Yes. Animal instincts got the better of us. I like you, Simon. I don’t want to lose your friendship. I haven’t had it long enough. I don’t want a fuck buddy, not now I’m sober anyway. Are we still friends?”

Relief washed over me. “Yes, absolutely. I like you too, Dee-Dee, very much so.”

“Thank you.”

We fell quiet, each of us drinking our coffee.

When he’d finished he stood up. “I’d best be off home now. I want to have a shower, maybe go back to bed.”

I walked with him to the front door, opening it. “I’ll see you soon, Dee. Don’t be a stranger.”

“May I tell you something before I go?”

“Tell me what?”

“You look nice first thing on a morning, and by the way,” he gazed at me solemnly. “Your cock really is magnificent. It was a privilege to suck it.”

I pointed towards the corridor. “Go home, Dee-Dee.”

“Okay. Bye, Simon.”

Closing the door I leaned my forehead against it, conscious of a blush and a smile spreading across my face.

After having a long warm shower I got dressed and made tea and toast, taking them into the living room, putting them on the coffee table while I opened the curtains. It was another fine day. I winced in a vampirish way as the sunshine dazzled my hangover sensitive eyes.

As I turned from the window I caught sight of the envelope on the bookshelf. Picking it up I took it over to the couch and sat down, withdrawing the sketch to look at it again. I’d meant what I’d said about having it framed. If what I’d seen of his work so far was an example of his talents, then it was a crying shame he was unwilling to exhibit.

I made to put the sketch back into the envelope, but stopped, arrested, as I glimpsed something I hadn’t noticed before. There was a face among the flowers. I studied harder. It was a girl, pretty in a transitional teenage way. Jen? It had to be. It seemed to suit his sense of logic. He’d bought the flowers for her and laid them in her memory, so he’d drawn her into them. He was giving her power of possession in the living world. I was touched, and saddened. To die so young was a tragedy.

I also felt sadness for Dee-Dee, because twelve years later he was still visiting his friend’s grave, still recalling her face, still missing her. Most people would have moved on, stopped visiting the grave, but not him. It spoke of deep loyalty, another undervalued trait in a fast moving world of Facebook friendships and passing trends.

Slipping the sketch into the envelope I put it on the coffee table and leaned back into the sofa cushions. I was glad he and I had decided to overcome our impetuous foray into sexual activity and remain friends. I wanted to know him better.