Plan B (7 page)

“I don’t know if it was the rush of the crowd, her, the beer I’d consumed, or just the fact that I was a horny little son of a bitch and my buddies were egging me on, but I got real bold. I knew the rules: everyone had warned me not to touch the girls. They have signs posted and everything. But I wasn’t thinking about the rules or that I might get kicked out of the club. I was all horned up and emboldened by the hoots and hollers of my buddies, and I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her down on me, right there in front of everyone, like she was riding me.” Lance turned his head to look at me. “I got so fucking turned on.”

“You know what,” I said, then yawned. “Glad you had such a great time with your birthday stripper. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m exhausted. Do you mind locking the door on your way out?” My eyes had become so heavy I gave up trying to keep them open. It was useless.

“I thought you were curious about my first time being attracted to a guy?”

“I was, but it was a simple yes or no question. Nothing against big-boobed strippers, but they really don’t do much for me, nor you getting hard for one, for that matter.” My words were slurred and I’d already started to fall over the edge into sleep, so I’m not sure of my exact statement.

I heard the TV click off and, from behind my closed eyes, saw the light on Bo’s desk go out. I think he may have said something else, but I can’t be sure. It was lost on me as I fell into blackness. Looking back, I suppose I should have been concerned that I had fallen asleep with a practical stranger in my room, but I was just too tired to really care about it at that moment. Besides, both Katie and Bo had known Lance was walking me back to the room. If there had been any real danger to me, I’d like to have thought they would have said something.

I
WAS
in that strange place between sleep and wakefulness. A place that seems both real and dreamlike and they merge until you’re not sure which one is reality. It was in that state that I could have sworn I felt Lance standing above me, staring at me, and then the sensation was gone, replaced by nothingness. Fingers gently brushed my long bangs from my forehead, the touch like a whisper, just barely there. Soft lips pressed gently against mine. Somewhere within me, I knew I wanted this kiss, more than anything, wanted it to deepen. To lose myself, explore its warmth with tongue, but before I could open to it, the lips were gone and I drifted back into the blackness of sleep.

The click of the door closing brought me out of my light sleep. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut at the harsh light, pulled the covers up over my head, and buried my face in my pillow. “Christ, Bo! Do you need every light on in the room?”

“Sorry.”

I jerked to a sitting position, blinking rapidly to adjust to the harsh overhead florescent light, and gaped when Lance’s familiar form came into focus. He was standing near the door, a tray with two coffees in one hand and a brown bag in the other.

“I got muffins and coffee.” He walked farther into the room and set them down on Bo’s desk. “Wasn’t sure what you wanted in your coffee but I grabbed a bunch of cream and sugar.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. When I opened them again, he was still standing there, but now he was staring at me. “I take it you’re not much of a morning person?” He chuckled.

“Uh….” I swallowed past my dry throat and ran a hand through my tangled hair. “Not really. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I told you, bringing you breakfast. What do you want in your coffee?”

“Black is fine.” I normally took a little cream and sugar, but I figured I needed the bitter taste of pure rotgut coffee to snap me out of my stupor.

Was I still dreaming? I pulled the covers up further on my lap and discreetly pinched my thigh.
Ow
. Nope, I wasn’t dreaming.

Lance held out a Styrofoam cup for me that I gratefully accepted. “Thanks.”

He nodded then added several packets of sugar and cream to the other coffee before taking it and sitting on the edge of Bo’s bed. I watched him as he blew on the steaming brew before taking a small sip. I did the same with mine, needing the caffeine desperately. The strange dreamlike events from the night before, then waking to find Lance in my room—and with breakfast no less—had me a little frazzled. I’m not a morning person, never have been, but this particular morning I was struggling even more than normal to throw off the effects of sleep.

“What time do you have class?”

I glanced at the digital clock next to my bed—
7:05 AM
—and groaned. I gave him an annoyed look. “Not until ten.”

“Cool. I don’t have class until eleven. We can spend the morning together if you like.” He set his coffee down, grabbed the brown bag, and pulled out a muffin. “Blueberry?”

“No.”

“I’ve got chocolate chip, banana nut, and apple cinnamon.”

I wanted to stay annoyed at Lance, maybe even throw a good temper tantrum since I hated to be woken up early, but my irritation couldn’t stand against the hopeful smile on Lance’s face. And, he did have breakfast.

“Chocolate chip,” I said and held out my hand.

Lance’s smile grew even wider. He rummaged in the bag, handed me a muffin, and dug into his. “So what do you want to do this morning?”

I took a bite from my muffin, the chocolaty flavor delicious, and the rest of my irritation drained away. “I don’t know.” After another bite, I washed it down with coffee before continuing. “Not really time to do much. What about later today?”

Lance stuffed the rest of his muffin in his mouth. “Can’t. I have a class at three then practice right after,” he said, although it was a little hard to understand him, since his mouth was so full. He grabbed another muffin out of the bag and peeled off the paper.

To my shock, he shoved half of the muffin in his mouth. “How about a class on manners,” I said against the rim of my cup.

“What was that?”

My sleep-addled brain finally came back online and I realized I was sitting in my dorm at seven in the morning having breakfast with Lance. Talk about fucking slow! “Did you stay here all night?”

Lance nodded and wiped a hand across his mouth. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was only going to rest my eyes before I headed back to get my car. Guess I fell asleep.”

The memories of Lance standing over me, his touch…. I brought my hand to my mouth and touched my lips as the kiss flashed in my head. They were only dreams—or were they? I still wasn’t sure, but I was beginning to lean more toward the side of reality. I wasn’t going to ask him, just in case, but damn, the memories of it, whether real or not, made my stomach flutter.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just not enough coffee yet.” I took another gulp.

“You really aren’t a morning person, are you?”

I shook my head.

“Would you rather meet for lunch than do something now? I have time between my first and second class.”

I’d always been one of those gabby kind of people. Hadn’t ever been bested in wit or sarcasm, but something about Lance, from the first time I’d met him, left me speechless most of the time. So instead of sounding too eager and telling him I’d call him, take a number, or I was having lunch with some hot stud, I just said, “Yes.”

“Cool!”

Lance downed the last of his coffee and threw the cup into the small wastebasket under the desk. He then stuffed his half-eaten muffin back into the bag and stood. “Say, twelve fifteen at the deli?”

Again my wit shone and I responded with, “Yes.” Damn, I was on a roll.

The speechlessness and off-kilter shit just heightened when he moved close and leaned over me. My breath caught as I stared back at those stunning eyes and heat infused my groin. I could feel his warm breath against my mouth, practically taste the mix of blueberry, banana, and coffee. I moved my cup to my lap, hoping to hide my growing arousal as he continued to stare at me. Neither of us said a word and a voice in my head started screaming,
kiss me, touch me, anything
, but he did no such thing.

“Do you remember our conversation last night?”

“Which part?” I asked, my voice a little breathy.

“The part where you asked me about whether or not I’d ever been attracted to a guy?”

Lance being so close, feeling his heat, I could only nod. I didn’t trust my voice.

“And how turned on I got from the lap dance my buddies got for me?”

Again, I could only nod. My cock had gone from pleasantly aroused to throbbing, and I pressed the bottom of my cup against it to keep the linens from tenting.

He was silent for long moments. His eyes wandered from my face to my rapidly rising and falling chest then down farther, and I hoped the Styrofoam and cotton barrier was enough to hide how he was affecting me. I don’t know what he was searching for, or maybe he was building up some courage to say what he was thinking, but whatever it was, he must have found it. He leaned in closer still until I felt his sweet breath against my neck, just below my ear, and I shuddered with the tingling sensation.

“That stripper ground against me.” He pressed a kiss to the side of my neck and I had to stifle a moan. A moan that caught in my throat when he said, “His dick was nearly as hard as my own.”

I sat there, mouth open wide, shaft throbbing, as Lance straightened and walked to the door. Without a backward glance, he opened the door and stepped out. I heard his deep rumbling chuckle as he closed the door behind him. Bastard somehow knew exactly how that revelation would affect me.

I don’t know how long I sat there staring at that closed door because it wasn’t wood and metal I was seeing. An image of Lance gripping that stripper’s hips, rubbing their cocks against one another, played through my mind until I was on the verge of coming, and I hadn’t even touched myself.

It explained so much. The heated looks he’d given me, why he’d been going out of his way to get to know me, why he’d kissed me while I slept.

“Oh, fuck!”

The memory of those soft lips against mine combined with the images in my head and I set the cup I’d been gripping on the desk. My heart was hammering in my chest as I shoved the covers and my sweats down and wrapped my fist around my cock. I stroked my entire length from base to tip, teasing at the flared head with my thumb before moving back down. Behind my closed eyes, I could envision Lance thrusting up out of his chair, denim-encased cock rubbing against the stripper’s silk-covered prick. My cock swelled further when the stripper morphed and it was me who was giving Lance a lap dance, rubbing my prick against his as his big hands held my hips in a bruising grip.

His scent was still strong in the air and the flesh below my ear still tingled from his warm lips as I continued to pleasure myself. It didn’t take long, hips working, pushing my pulsing cock into my tight fist, and I had to bite down on my lip to keep from shouting out my pleasure as I came.

Then I began to laugh. The whole story of Lance and the stripper was just frickin’ hilarious to me. Even more gut-busting was putting myself in that stripper’s high-heeled shoes and giving him a lap dance. That would not have been jerk-worthy, not with my two left feet.

I
DON
’
T
, nor have I ever, thought of myself as a drag queen. Never wanted to be. Not that I have anything against those who do, I just never really thought of trying to intentionally pass myself off as a woman. I loved painting my eyes and lips, had enough hair products, straighteners, styling tools, and barrettes to make most girls green with envy. Still, I never tried to “hide” the fact that I was a man. I got off on the curious looks I’d get as someone tried to figure out what I was. I’ve always hated labels, and I was just as likely to shop at Victoria’s Secret—love their Pink line—as American Outfitters. I called my style… me. If I liked it, I wore it—there was no rhyme or reason.

However, before meeting Lance for lunch, I spent extra time in front of the mirror and added a few more “feminine” touches than normal. I’d also chosen a pair of black silk skinny pants with matching knee-high boots sporting six-inch heels, a pale yellow blouse with white, black, and yellow swirl designs, and a fringed scarf tied around my neck. Because of the freezing temps, I added a calf-length black wool coat, a yellow knit beret, and yellow fluffy mittens. I admit I was very, very feminine in appearance but I had decided after Lance had left my dorm that I was going to be that gay-curious man’s first, come hell or high water. I pulled out the big guns.

Some of my jolly mood in anticipation of seeing Lance fell as I rounded the corner and saw the line outside the deli. It was one of the most popular places to eat. Not only was the food cheap, it tasted good and was right on campus. Shit! I only had an hour before my next class and I was hungry. The half muffin I’d had earlier hadn’t been enough.

As I walked past the window, I scanned through the crowd inside, hoping Lance had gotten there early and had a table. No such luck. He wasn’t sitting at any of the tables, at the counter, and from what I could tell, he wasn't among the crowd waiting in line either. I sighed and rubbed my hands together. I could already feel the cold wind seeping through the knitted mittens.