Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (6 page)

"So you
don't dislike me?" Brad says.

Spencer shakes
his head, then sorts through the double negative and nods. Then he isn't sure
that's the right response, either, so he stops and looks at Brad.

"You like
me?" The smile sidles back to Brad's mouth.

Spencer nods
again.

"Then I'll
come by and say hi the next time I visit Ronnie," Brad says. "And
maybe sometime I could just come visit you."

Spencer looks
down and runs his tongue along his lip. He looks up again, right into Brad's
eyes for a moment before his gaze slides off-center. "When do you think
you might come by?"

"I could
probably come next Tuesday."

Spencer nods.
"Okay," he says. He even smiles.

* *
* *

When Brad comes
to see Ronnie the next Tuesday, he also knocks on Spencer's door, just like he
said he would. He does the same the following Tuesday, and the one after that.
Then the next Tuesday, he says maybe he'll come see Spencer on Friday without
stopping in at Ronnie's first, and Spencer says okay, and Brad smiles. He's
smiling on Friday when Spencer opens the door, and Spencer smiles, too.

They don't do
anything that Friday. They sit in Spencer's room, talking and drinking. It
turns out to be fine, and afterwards Spencer doesn't know what he was so
nervous about. It's just like hanging out with Ronnie, only without the
pornography.

The next Friday
is the same, talking and drinking and fine. The Friday after, they get a little
hungry, so they walk to the convenience store, where they get snack cakes for
Brad's sweet tooth and three different kinds of potato chips because variety,
Spencer says, is the spice of life. The words sound a lot stupider coming out
of Spencer's mouth than they did in his head, but Brad laughs anyhow, like
Spencer has been clever, and Spencer can't help smiling back. When they check
out, the old woman behind the counter says, as always, "Nice day for a
race."

"Oh, I
know!" Brad grins and chimes in with her: "The human race!"

Spencer shakes
his head at them, but he doesn't disagree.

As they're walk
back to the apartment, Brad mentions that the Symphony's season is opening next
week with Tchaikovsky’s
Winter Dreams
. Spencer smiles at Brad to let him
know it's all right to talk about classical music. Brad smiles back and starts
talking about it more—and then suddenly he says, "I got a ticket for
you, if you want to come."

It's not
actually sudden. If a person had been paying attention, he would have known Brad
was going to say this. It's not that Spencer wasn't paying attention, it's that
he didn't think—he didn't
want
to think about it. He didn't even
want to contemplate the possibility he'd have to think about it. This method
has rarely worked for Spencer in the past, so he doesn't know why he keeps
trying it.

When he hears
Brad say his name, Spencer realizes all the time that passed in his head while
he was thinking just now has also passed outside his head, wordlessly. He
doesn't know what to say. Since he's already had to think about it, he tries
thinking more.

He does more
than think; he imagines: all the people who will be there. Not that he'll know
any of them, of course. In his imagination, they are faceless. How they can
make so much noise without mouths, Spencer doesn't know—but they do. A
cacophony. Not even the music can drown it out. It's worse than any grocery
store Spencer has ever been to, and twice as bright even when the house lights
dim, because there's a spotlight on him, even though he's only sitting in the
audience. Everyone can see him and how he doesn't fit in, how his face doesn’t
match theirs, how he doesn't belong.

Again Brad says
his name. Spencer shakes his head. He can't. He can't even tell Brad that he
can't.

"I'm
sorry," Brad says. His hand hovers but doesn't touch, then falls back to
his side. "I shouldn't have—look, it's all right. I can give the
ticket to Ronnie or something."

Spencer doesn't
say anything, and Brad doesn't say anything else.

When they get to
the apartment, Spencer fumbles for his key. He has to concentrate to get it
into the lock, and then to turn it the right way once it's in. Finally, he gets
the tumbler to click and the knob to twist.

"Hey,
Spencer." Brad's voice is soft. When Spencer glances at him, Brad says
again, "I'm sorry." He looks like he wants to say more, but he
doesn't. He looks at Spencer, and the regret looks so terrible that Spencer has
to look away. Spencer focuses on his hand on the doorknob as he turns it.
"I'll just—" Brad starts. "I'm going to see if Ronnie's
still in."

Spencer doesn't
look and he doesn't say anything, not until he has the door open and one foot
inside it. "You're not coming in?"

Half-way to
Ronnie's door, Brad turns back to him. "Do you want me to?" The
regret is still there, but there's something pushing in from the edges.
Something so familiar, but elusive. Then Spencer remembers it: hope.

As Spencer looks
down this time, the plastic bag from the convenience store catches his eye.
"I don't like sour cream and onion," he says.

With a sinking
feeling, he realizes too late that Brad might take the sour cream and onion
chips to Ronnie's.

Brad comes
closer, close enough to touch. He doesn't touch Spencer, but he does say,
"Then I guess I should come in." He smiles when Spencer looks at him,
even though Spencer can't smile back, not yet; Brad smiles enough for both of
them.

* * * *

Brad doesn't
come on regular days to see Ronnie anymore, but when he does, Spencer sometimes
goes over, too. On Fridays, Friday after Friday, Brad comes to see Spencer, and
they hang out, just the two of them.

One evening as
they're walking to the convenience store, they find themselves face-to-face
with the homeless guy, who has popped up from around a corner. The homeless guy
looks at Spencer, and Spencer can't help looking back.

"This your
new boyfriend, Allison?" The homeless guy jerks a thumb at Brad.

Spencer doesn't
know what to say.

The homeless guy
turns to Brad. "You better not hurt her," he tells Brad. "You
better not make her cry."

Spencer doesn't
know what to say. But Brad does.

"I
won't," Brad says seriously, meeting the homeless guy's eyes. "I
promise."

The homeless guy
holds the stare a moment longer. Then he nods, satisfied with whatever he has
seen in Brad. He glances over at Spencer again, not quite meeting his eyes this
time. "Merry Christmas, Allison. Take care of yourself."

"I
will," Spencer says, even though the homeless guy has already turned his
back and started away.

After a moment,
Spencer and Brad start walking again. Spencer's hand accidentally brushes the
back of Brad's as they go. Then Brad's hand touches Spencer's—and stays.
As they walk by the convenience store, Spencer glances in the window. Instead
of cartons of cigarettes and snack cakes and bags of chips, he sees the All-American
Boy-Next-Door walking through a sparkling haze of street and seasonal lights,
Tall-Dark-and-Sort-of-Okay-Looking at his side. Spencer's mouth curves up on
one side and the tall, dark-haired boy half-smiles back.

Their hands stay
touching even when they pass someone on the street. "Nice night for
it," the guy nods casually as they go by.

They don't say
anything. But yeah—it is.

About Mallory
Path

A dedicated daydreamer born in Manhattan, Mallory
Path now lives across the bay from San Francisco. Mal used to rage against
classification by pronouns, but has come to terms with that failure of language
and now answers to “he” or “she”-or, under the right conditions with the right
persons-”it.” She prefers hope to happiness, which is often reflected in her
fiction. When not writing gay love stories, Mal enjoys cuddling her hamsters,
napping, and planning fantasy vacations that she will never be able to afford.
Visitors to her website, A Lyrical Bent (http://mallorypath.com), are most
welcome.

CHRISTMAS IN PARADISE

By Phillip Sweeny

I did not think
I could endure another holiday season alone in the snow with jingling bells and
sweet smelling firs. Three years without Marie was enough. So at the age of
fifty, I decided to take my loneliness and go to paradise. I searched the
meeting calendar and found one. It looked like it might be informative. As a
bonus, it was in Hawaii and the Big Island certainly had its attractions, so I
took off with high expectations.

There was one
Christmas tree in the lobby of the resort, and it was an artificial one,
decorated with Hawaiian artifacts. I was glad, for the less brain stimulation I
had to endure, the better. Here and there, scattered among its branches, I
noticed a few token Christmas balls depicting winter scenes from the mainland. I
ignored them with a dedicated purpose, not wanting to be reminded of my pain
and loss.

Even though the
island temperature stayed between seventy and seventy-nine degrees, I could not
get Marie and the icy day out of my mind. Marie had been my one true love. We
had started out at sixteen. Neither one of us had ever known anyone else, but
three Christmas’s ago she had been taken away from me. I could still feel the
car sliding on the ice and hear her screams as we plowed headfirst into the
guardrail, flipping over and falling into the icy creek below. How I had
survived, and why, I’ll never know.

The flight
across the ocean was uneventful and the meeting was going well, but I was still
lonely. Perhaps I had made the wrong choice as I was still having trouble
sleeping. The last two nights I had awakened at three a.m., tossing and turning
so much. I felt like I was going crazy. I was getting sore. I had to do
something to get relief, so tonight I decided to avoid all the flopping about and
take a book to the lobby and read.

The only person
I saw as I walked through the lobby at two-thirty in the morning was the young
girl at the front desk. By her coloring and dress, she had to be Hawaiian. She
appeared to be about half my age. She smiled at me as I passed by her on my way
to the reading couch, which was in a corner next to the artificial tree.

“Having trouble
sleeping, sir?” she asked. She had a sweet smile and her lips were full and
red.

“Yes,” I
answered in a hoarse whisper, not looking for conversation.

“Nice pajamas,”
she said.

I looked down at
myself in surprise. I had worn a pair of blue operating room scrubs to sleep in
and had forgotten to change as I left the room.

“Oops,” I said. “Are
they okay? I mean, I‘m not going to gross anyone out, am I?”

“Okay by me,”
she answered. “I hope you enjoy your book.”

I settled in and
opened the book. It was a boring subject, so it was not long before I found
myself looking about the room, which was empty of people and seemed as lonely
as I. My eyes wandered over to the pretty receptionist and I was surprised to
see her walk from behind the desk and head my way. She was carrying a small
portable CD player in one hand and a plastic bag in the other.

“Do you mind if
I play some music and dance?” she asked as she approached me. “I like to
practice my hula when things are quiet and no one is around.”

“Sure, go
ahead,” I answered, my eyes widening. I could not help but notice. She was
wearing a tight skirt, but did not look much like a hula dancer. She turned on
the CD player and a soft Hawaiian tune drifted through the lobby.

“I need to
change, if you don’t mind?” she said with a slight giggle. I could do nothing
else but watch. I gave no answer while she took a grass skirt out of the bag
she was carrying in her right hand. I wondered how she was going to accomplish
this in an open lobby.

“I’ll just turn
around,” she said.

I watched
amazed, as she removed her blouse and bra. Her back was slim and beautiful. She
looked so soft. I felt the tips of my fingers get warm. I wanted to reach out
and touch her. I wanted my warm fingers to touch her soft skin. I could not
believe it. She was right here, stripping in front of me. I shook my head in
disbelief. No it was real. It had to be. At least, the erection I was starting
to get as I watched her bend over to remove a coconut bra from the bag was
real. I could see the swelling at the side of her breasts as she slipped it on,
wiggling it into place.

“I hope that
thing is padded,” I managed to say, thinking about her soft breasts against a
rough coconut hull. I reached down and felt my penis. I was hard and erect. I
squeezed the head and the shaft. It felt good, as I had not had an erection
since. Well, I thought, since a long time, ago.

“Nice and soft,”
she replied. I could tell she was unconcerned. She had to know I was watching
every move. Next, she removed her skirt in one motion and stretched her arms
high as if she were getting a kink out of her back. She looked over her
shoulder and winked. I licked my lips as I watched her smooth firm butt jiggle
when she tightened her muscles.

I could not help
but notice the thong panties with a little bow at the back. She bent over and
removed them. I could see light between her legs, as she was thin. I imagined I
could see bulge between her legs. No, it was not my imagination. I could see
the bulge of her pubic hair and labia. I wanted to reach over and touch the
black hair and feel the warmth of her soft labial lips. Instead, I tried to
keep my cool as she pulled up the grass skirt and turned to face me.

She was
beautiful and from somewhere, flowers had appeared in her hair. She started to
sway back and forth, keeping time with the gentle flowing music. It was a
sensual dance, so even though she was now dressed, my erection maintained
itself. Once I thought she looked with interest at the bulge in my scrub pants.
She did smile. There was no doubt in my mind.

“This is a dance
of a lost love,” she said, smiling at me again. I watched as she swayed her
hips and moved her arms. I could see her bare legs all the way to the belt
holding the skirt in place, but something made me forget about the dark
triangle between her legs. As a result, my erection subsided and I shrank into
a flaccid nothingness.

She continued to
sway to the music and to tell me of the story she was weaving with her hands. The
story was of two lovers and they had been parted by a terrible accident. Tears
started to come into my eyes as I thought about Marie and what had taken her
from me three years ago.

“You’ve lost
someone you loved very much, haven’t you?” she whispered. I could hear the
kindness and concern in her voice.

“Yes,” I
answered as tears flowed down my cheeks.

“Come dance with
me,” she said, reaching over and taking me by the hand. I stood in front of her
as she swayed and moved her hips around me. I tried to move my hands and arms
like she was moving hers. She smiled at my efforts and as I started swaying in
time with the music, my hips matching her rhythm. My tears started to dry.

“Take my hand
and come with me,” she said, moving toward the artificial Christmas tree. The
tips of her fingers touched mine and I followed, swaying my hips, lost in the
spell of the girl and the music.

“Where are we
going?” I asked, feeling a bit embarrassed and shy. I felt as if I was in
another world, but I knew I would follow wherever she would lead.

“To the tree,”
she replied, taking my hand and with a measured purpose, touched several of the
Hawaiian ornaments, our fingers pressed together.

“I’ve never seen
snow,” she said as she stopped and looked at an ornament, which had a picture
of an Irish cottage with snow drifting down around its thatched roof. It was a
night scene with a yellow-orange light in one of the windows.

“It’s cold,” I
said, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes.

She took my hand
and together we touched the Christmas ornament. All at once, everything went
gray and then black. I felt as if I was flying at great speed over a great
distance through a void and I began to feel cold. I opened my eyes as wide as I
could. I shivered when I felt the cold snow around my feet. We were in front of
the cottage. It was the same cottage I had seen in the ornament.

“Touch the door.
Touch it now!” she commanded. The door flew open at our touch and as if by
magic we were inside. It was warm. A fire was burning in the fireplace. A couch
and sofa were pulled up next to the fire and a bed with heavy quilts was placed
against a wall on the other side of the room. She led me, taking small steps,
to the bed, all the time continuing her dance.

“What’s
happening?” I asked.

“Don’t talk,”
she answered, putting a finger to my lips. “You’ll break the spell. Just come
to the bed and make love to me.”

I touched her
and she was as soft as she had looked—in fact, much softer. She was like a
puppy. Her skin melted into mine and she kissed me with a hungry eagerness as I
pulled her close. I could smell her arousal and she moaned as I pressed my
erect penis against her pubis.

Our tongues met
and she explored my mouth and lips with a mounting lust as I reached behind her
back and untied the string, which was holding her coconut bra in place. Her
breasts were warm as she pressed them into my chest. I could feel her nipples
harden against mine.

Taking my head
in her hands, she moved my mouth to her left nipple. I sucked like a baby as
she held me to her. In a moment, her fingers were on my nipples, rubbing and
pinching. I couldn’t help myself and I moaned in anticipation.

“Any time,” she
whispered in my ear. I let my hand move to her dark pubic mound and explore
until I found her clit. I felt her shudder with an orgasm the moment I touched
it, but she did not slack off her pressure as she guided my hips to her, taking
my hard penis in her hand and placing it against her labia. I sank in to the
hilt with one thrust.

My lips found
hers once more as I continued to move in and out, taking my time at first and
then with quickness as I felt my orgasm reach its peak. I jerked and exploded
with a scream, feeling my cum fill her. I took a deep breath and pulled back. I
could feel my cum drip out of her. It flowed around the sides of my erect cock
and down onto my balls. She wrapped her legs around me and held me in as she
rolled me over.

I looked at her
breasts as they hung over me. I took one in each of my hands as she rubbed her
clit up and down my cock. There was no doubt. I had no choice but to remain
hard. I heard her give a muffled cry between closed lips. I started to say
something, but she put a finger to my lips.

I closed my eyes
as she continued to work on top of me. I ejaculated again as soon as she guided
me into her. She pushed her clit into my pubic bone and stiffened as she
reached her peak.

Exhausted, we
slept for an hour. She was light as a feather on top of me. I was surprised. Her
weight did not bother my breathing, so I rubbed her back when I awakened,
scratching her soft skin as I held her close. She smiled when she opened her
eyes and looked into mine. I again started to say something, but she covered my
mouth with her hand.

Wondering what was
going to happen next, I followed her when she got off of me and stood by the
bed, motioning with her fingers as if she were starting her hula all over
again.

I did not
realize we were at the door, when she reached out and touched it. The black
void enveloped us again and I could hear air roaring past my ears. I closed my
eyes against the flow of the rushing sound. As if by some miracle, I felt calm
and at ease. A peculiar, yet not unpleasant warmth came over me as the rush of
wind stopped.

“Sir! Oh, sir!”
I heard a frantic voice calling to me.

“What?” I
answered. My head felt as if it were full of cobwebs.

“Sir, would you
please put your clothes back on?” The voice was coming from somewhere to my
left. I looked and saw a pretty Hawaiian girl waving at me with both arms in
the air from behind the reception desk. I looked, expecting, but she was not
the same girl. I looked back and forth and then behind me. I was in an empty
lobby. I looked at myself. Shit! How could I now be standing naked, alone and
in front of the artificial Christmas tree?

I pulled my
scrub suit back on, tying the draw string as fast as I could. I walked over to
the reception desk. I knew I had to find her. I had to find the girl who had
taken me on the most wonderful, magical trip of my life.

“Where is the
other girl?” I asked. “There was another girl here. It couldn’t have been more
than a few moments ago.”

“Sir, I’ve been
here all night,” she said. “Have you been drinking?”

“Not a drop,” I
said. “There was another girl. She came over and danced a hula for me.”

“No sir,” she
answered. “I would have seen it. You were standing next to the Christmas tree. I
turned around and when I looked back, you had taken your clothes off. Sir, I
think you had better go back to your room.”

“I’ll go,” I agreed,
flushing. I walked back to the Christmas tree and looked at the ornaments. There
were Hawaiian ornaments on each limb. There was not one ornament with snow and
an Irish cottage. I made sure by looking at each one.

I shook my head
in disbelief and reached into my pants to reposition my penis, as it seemed as
if it was caught on something. When I removed my hand, I looked at my fingers. I
could make out a few strands of black silky hair mixed with my pubic curls,
which were very blonde. I knew the time had come. I would be able to get to
sleep, at last. Marie had been born in Hawaii and had moved to the East Coast
when she was a very young girl. I remembered how she looked twenty-five years
ago. She looked like… Could it have been? I closed my eyes, smiled and went to
sleep.