All About Yves (7 page)

And they rarely made big productions of their birthdays and other personal dates. Typically, these dates were their quiet times together. They spent so much time in the public spotlight they didn't want to share a hint of their personal lives with anyone. The only reason they were having a big anniversary party that year was because Frazier had suggested doing it. He was proud of the fact they'd been together for fifteen years and he wanted to celebrate it openly for a change.

When Marco rested his head on the pillow that night, he was exhausted. He'd been working all night in his office on a book he'd been writing. The book had nothing to do with modeling or fashion. This was a book about home organization, with unusual little hints and helpful solutions to problems that came up around the house every day. Marco had been working on the book for five years. It was a hobby that took him away from all the pressures of the fashion industry, where he could get lost for hours and release unwanted stress. That night he'd been writing about how to remove wine stains from clothing, upholstery, and carpets. He'd come up with a technique involving ice water, kosher salt, and white vinegar. White vinegar played a huge part in his book. He'd devoted a whole chapter just to white vinegar. People didn't realize how handy it was to have around the house.

Marco hoped to finish the book one day, then try to get it published. He loved writing it and he loved offering people solutions to problems. Though he didn't have formal training in interior design, he'd studied the best designers in America, from Sister Parish to Billy Baldwin. When he combined their knowledge to his own design experience and added helpful household hints, it was an interesting combination that kept him busy for hours at a time. He thought this quirky household hint book that was filled with tips and solutions might be his next career. He still had a few more years left to model. It wasn't as bad now as it had been back in the days of old Hollywood when a career was basically over after age thirty-six. But he liked knowing there was something else for when he decided to stop modeling.

He loved working on this book so much he rarely talked about it. He didn't discuss it with his friends or with Frazier. He didn't even mention it to Yves. When Yves had asked what he was doing that night, Marco lied and said he was going to read in his office and Yves was free to do whatever he wanted. Lately, Yves had been getting on his nerves and he wasn't sure why. He always seemed to be there with that dopey expression, offering unnecessary help.

It was just after midnight when the telephone rang. Marco was drifting into a deep sleep and he bolted forward to reach for the phone. No one called this late at night. He was worried it was bad news. “Hello,” he said hoarsely. It sounded like a direct order.

"Hey,” Frazier said. “I just got your card. I opened my suitcase and saw it on top of my clothes."

"My card?” Marco asked. He hadn't placed a card in Frazier's suitcase. He didn't know what Frazier was talking about.

"I feel guilty now,” Frazier said. “I didn't get you a card. I thought we agreed years ago not to make our anniversary a cheesy Hallmark event like other people. You're the one who insisted you hated buying me anniversary cards because they weren't geared toward gay couples. And the ones geared for gay couples weren't very good."

"You don't have to get me a card,” Marco said, sitting up. “I decided to get you one this year as a joke. I figured you'd get a good laugh.” He had no idea who would slip an anniversary card into Frazier's suitcase, but he didn't want to let Frazier down. He sounded so happy and excited to see the card. For a moment, he was sorry he
hadn't
given him the card himself.

"You're a sneak,” Frazier said. “But it was cute. I love it. I was missing you all day, and I hate being away from you on our anniversary."

"I do too,” Marco said. “But at least you'll be home tomorrow and we can celebrate with everyone.” He tried hard to sound as if he was looking forward to the party. But he would have preferred to spend his entire anniversary celebration in bed with Frazier, with his legs over Frazier's shoulders and Frazier's rough beard rubbing against his shoulder.

"How much do you miss me?"

"You have no idea,” Marco said. “I've had an erection all day."

"What are you wearing right now?"

"Ah well,” Marco said. “You're being naughty now. You know I never wear anything to bed. I'm naked."

"Put your hand down between your legs and touch yourself,” Frazier said.

"Are you serious? It's late and you should get to bed."

"C'mon,” Frazier said. “Do it for me. I'm sitting here all alone in a hotel room and my dick is ready to burst just hearing your voice.” His voice became low and soft. “Put your hands down between your legs and play with yourself for me. Put the phone on speaker and pull the covers back so I can pretend I'm watching you do naughty things to yourself."

Marco smiled. They hadn't done this in a while, not since the last time Frazier had to fly to Paris and Marco had to do an interview on a talk show in L.A. So he pulled back the covers and pressed the speakerphone button. When the phone was on the bed next to his thigh, he reached down between his legs and grabbed his dick.

"Are you touching yourself now?” Frazier asked.

Marco stretched out on the bed and spread his legs. “Yes,” he said. “What do you want me to do next?” These phone sessions worked best when Frazier gave the orders and he followed them. Frazier liked to be in control. He'd always been the dominant one in bed.

"Are you hard?"

"Yes."

"Start stroking your cock with one hand."

"I'm stroking now,” Marco said. His penis had become a full erection. He loved listening to Frazier's deep masculine voice, especially when he talked dirty.

"While you jerk, lift up your legs, spread them wide, and play with your tight little hole for me. You know how much I love your tight little hole."

Marco closed his eyes and moaned a few times. When he lifted his legs and pressed two fingers up against his anus, he arched his back and said, “Yes, Frazier. I'm pretending it's you. I'm imagining you're between my legs and you're ready to enter me.” Actually, it felt weird. But he didn't want to disappoint Frazier so he continued to play along.

"What do you want now?” Frazier asked.

"I want you,” Marco said. “I want you to open me wide and fill me up until I can't take anymore."

"Are you my bitch?"

Marco laughed. “I'm your bitch."

"You need a man, don't you, bitch?"

"Yes,” Marco said. “I need a big, strong, handsome man like you. I need your big strong hands all over my body. I need your big thick cock to bang me into the headboard. You know how to do it. You know how I like it. Give it to me."

Then Frazier told him to lift his legs higher and shove two fingers into his body. Frazier told him to imagine he was there, on the bed, fucking his brains out like a dirty little slut. Marco responded with moans and sighs. When he inserted his index finger and his middle finger into his ass at the same time, he said he was imagining Frazier on top of him, rocking and grinding his hips. His said his legs were over Frazier's shoulders and he was ready to take all Frazier had to give. He told Frazier he loved being his dirty little cock slut and he was willing to do anything to please his man. The more they talked, the worse it sounded. It was cheesy and melodramatic and cliche. It was bad, weeping-cock, meaty-nuts porn without any hope for redemption. But more than that, it was something Marco and Frazier would have dissed and laughed at if they'd read it in a book or seen it in a film. And at the same time, within the context of their private relationship, it was their own little playful secret, and it was the next best thing to being with Frazier.

In less than ten minutes, Frazier said, “I'm getting close."

"Me too,” Marco said. He was jerking his dick fast; his two fingers were all the way up his ass. He pictured Frazier naked, jerking off to the finish.

"Tell me what you're doing to your puckered rosebud,” Frazier said.

Marco laughed. He knew Frazier was talking about his anus. “I draw the line there,” he said. “I won't even say the words. However, I am sliding two of my fingers in and out of my ass for you."

"Are you ready to take it all?” Frazier asked. “I haven't come in about three days. It's going to be a fucking gusher.” He never would have used the word “gusher” under any other circumstances.

"I'm ready,” Marco said. “I'm ready for it all."

"Are you my hot little slut?"

"Yes, I'm your hot little slut,” Marco said. “Are you my big horny stud?"

"Oh yeah,” Frazier said. “I'm your big fucking stud, and I'm going to fucking breed your hot ass any minute. Open those legs all the way for me. Spread them as wide as you can."

A minute after that, they both came at the same time. Marco came all over his chest while Frazier grunted and whispered the words, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” into the phone.

"I'm a mess now,” Marco said. “I hope you're happy that you've made me sink this low. And I can't believe you said, ‘puckered bud.’”

"I'm a mess, too,” Frazier said. “And you're not here with me to clean it up."

"I wish I were there,” Marco said. One of the things Frazier loved him to do in bed was lick up his come. Frazier never did this for Marco. Frazier always said he despised the taste of come, even his own, and said he'd gag and throw up. He didn't even like the bleach-like smell of come. But he loved to watch Marco lick it up. Marco didn't mind in the least. He liked the taste of come, and Frazier's always tasted so much sweeter than his own.

"That was fucking hot,” Frazier said. “We're not bad for an old married couple of fifteen years."

"It was also tacky and sleazy and awful,” Marco said. He was smiling. It was a good thing they both had the same warped sense of humor when it came to bad porn.

"You loved it,” Frazier said. “Didn't you?"

"I loved it,” he said. “And I love you, too."

"Happy fifteenth,” Frazier said. “I'm looking forward to the next fifteen with you."

"Happy fifteenth,” Marco said, “I'm looking forward to pulling down your zipper when you get home tomorrow."

"I knew you were a dirty boy,” Fraizer said.

"It's all your fault."

"I'll see you tomorrow afternoon,” Frazier said. “I should be home around five, in plenty of time for the party. You can pull down my zipper then."

"Be careful and have a safe flight,” Marco said. He never stopped worrying about Frazier when he was in the air.

"I will,” Fraizer said. “I love you."

"Love you, too."

When they hung up, Marco rested his head back on the pillow and thought about the anniversary card Frazier had found in his suitcase. Then he heard a noise come from inside the bathroom. It was dark. He couldn't see well. The bathroom door was open and he thought he saw a shadow. He wondered if Yves had been listening at the door, watching him have phone sex with Frazier. He'd been so engrossed in what he was doing, he'd forgotten all about Yves.

The next morning at ten, Jane Francis carried a tray of coffee and juice into his bedroom. She did this every morning, knowing how much Marco hated to get out of bed until he'd had at least two cups of coffee. He sat up and said good morning. She rested the tray on his lap and went to the other side of the room to open the draperies. The sun was shining and it looked to be a beautiful fall day.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about something,” Jane Francis said, looking out the window. “Have you noticed anything odd about Yves?” She was biting her bottom lip and wringing her hands together.

"You don't care for him.” Marco took a sip of coffee. He knew Jane Francis well enough to know she was fishing for something. He didn't want to play games.

"Can we talk Dutch Uncle, or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?"

"Dutch Uncle,” Marco said. Jane Francis used this old phrase whenever she wanted to be painfully honest.

"I don't like him."

"Why?"

"This is where I'm supposed to tell you what you want to hear instead of talking Dutch Uncle."

"He can't seem to do enough to make me happy,” Marco said.

"No, he can't."

"He does whatever I ask him to do without complaining,” Marco said.

"Yes, he does."

"He doesn't think about anyone but me,” Marco said. Then he furrowed his eyebrows. “Doesn't he?” Marco wanted to know if Jane Francis knew something about Yves he didn't know. Jane Francis was loyal and rarely ever said a bad word about anyone unless it was necessary.

Jane Francis thought for a moment. “You're the
only
one he thinks about?"

"What do you mean?"

She stepped back from the window and crossed to the side of the bed. “It's creepy,” she said. “He absorbs everything about you. He watches you and studies you as if you were a textbook and he is about to take a final exam. He scopes out every move you make. The way you walk and speak and hold a fork..."

"I think it's flattering,” Marco said. “I don't see anything wrong with it.” He sounded defensive and annoyed, and far from convincing.

When Jane Francis opened her mouth to reply, there was a knock on the open door. They both turned and saw Yves standing in the doorway. Marco opened his eyes wide. Jane Francis pressed her palm to her stomach and took a quick breath. Yves was wearing one of the hand-me-down outfits Marco had given him a few days earlier. He'd gone to a salon and had his hair cut exactly like Marco's. The long straggly chunks that fell to his neck were gone. His new hair style was ultra short and neat, slick with a shiny product that glistened in the sunlight. The hair cut was such a huge transformation they wouldn't have recognized him if they'd seen him walking down the street. It framed his handsome face and drew attention to his superior bone structure. In this outfit, with the new haircut, Yves looked as if he were ready to step onto a runway and model.

Yves stepped into the room and said, “Good morning. What do you think of my new look?” It was a short fawn-colored leather jacket over a black V-neck T-shirt, tight low-rise jeans, pointed black shoes, and a wide white leather belt. He was carrying a folder of papers. He turned all the way around once so Marco could check him out.