Touch Me (7 page)

He couldn’t just sit here and wait for the end. It was shameful and cowardly, but there it was. Erik left the room and paced the corridor. He ran into Jeremy getting off the elevator and the sudden rush of feeling he experienced made him lightheaded. His vision blurred for an instant.

Jeremy held up a paper cup in each hand. “I didn’t know if you preferred coffee or tea, so I got one of each. Your choice. Are you okay?”

Erik nodded because there was a lump in his throat. He swallowed. “I think I need the coffee today. Thanks.” He took a cautious sip. It was the good stuff, from the shop on the corner, not the sludge from the cafeteria. “You must think I’m a major asshole—staying out here while my lover takes his last breath in there.”

“I’ve never lost anyone, so I don’t know how I’d react. But I don’t think you’re an asshole. Not at all.”

There was a small sitting area to the right of the elevators. It was unoccupied. Erik took a seat in one of the comfortable chairs and silently sipped his coffee. After a few minutes, Jeremy joined him. “I’m tired of goodbyes,” Erik confided. “We’ve been saying goodbye for the past three years. I can’t do it again.” His voice broke. If he allowed himself to think about it, to
really
think about it, he might fall apart and never be able to reassemble all the pieces again.

Jeremy took his hand and gave it a squeeze. That simple touch nearly undid him. The last person to hold his hand had been George, and that had been more than two years ago. Erik found himself holding on to Jeremy, twining their fingers, reluctant to break the contact.

“How long were you together?” Jeremy asked after a few moments of silence.

“Twenty-six years.”

“Wow. That’s a long time.”

“Longer than you’ve been on this planet, kiddo,” Erik added with a twist of his lips. “Maureen has never liked me. I think she blames me for her brother not having a wife and a parcel of kids. Which, if she knew her brother at all, she’d realize is ridiculous. It was never going to happen in a million years.”

“What’s… what’s wrong with him?”

“ALS. Lou Gehrig’s Disease,” Erik qualified when Jeremy frowned. But that didn’t help either; the kid was too young to have ever heard of the legendary baseball player who had made the disease famous. “Stephen Hawking?” Still no recognition. He sighed. “It’s a neurodegenerative disorder that affects the muscles. Essentially you lose all motor function. Your entire body stops working. Except your brain and most of your senses. You can still see and hear and feel. It’s like fucking being trapped in your own body.” The familiar bitterness choked him.

Jeremy’s fingers tightened in his.

“There’s no cure. All you can do is wait until your lungs finally shut down. He’s in respiratory failure now.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry.”
      

“He would have liked you. He always did have a thing for younger men.” Erik smiled to himself. “You were one of his favorites.”
And mine
, he thought.

“I don’t understand. You told him about me? About us?” Was Jeremy horrified? He couldn’t tell.

Erik sighed. He’d kept this to himself for so long that it seemed strange to talk about it now. What would Jeremy think? “It was George’s idea,” he began. “At least it started out that way. Once the disease started advancing, he kept insisting that I find someone else, that he was no good to me anymore. But I couldn’t do that. It didn’t feel right. His own body was betraying him—I couldn’t do that too. He was still
there
, inside. He could still feel. So we tried to find new ways to stay intimate, even if we couldn’t physically be together.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I told you that the brain was the primary center of pleasure. Well, George’s was perfectly fine even as his body deteriorated. We came to a sort of compromise. I would take on my special clients and then go home and share the experience with him.”

“You did record it!” Jeremy accused.

“No. I just… told him about it.” He wondered if someone raised on free internet porn could ever understand the power of a good imagination; that a well-told story could be just as arousing as watching two strangers on camera—maybe even more so.

“Like a fantasy?”

“Exactly. Sometimes I would embellish a bit—to heighten the stimulation.”

Jeremy tensed. Erik couldn’t blame him for finding the idea of some old guy getting off on his sexual awakening disgusting. “So, you used me?”

“Partly,” he admitted. He wouldn’t lie to the kid. “But along the way I came to truly enjoy what I was doing. It became more about helping people than keeping George entertained. What I said about a safe place—that was all true. What happened in our session was real and genuine, if that’s what you’re worried about. It wasn’t just for entertainment.”

“What did you say about me?”

Erik shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you that.” And not only because that was between him and George. But because it would give him away. Even his partner had sensed somehow that Jeremy was different from the others; George hadn’t missed the way Erik was more aroused by that session than any other, that his pleasure was more intense. Erik knew in his heart that was why George asked to hear about it so often.

Jeremy took his hand back, leaving Erik feeling bereft. Only a few minutes later, Emily found them. The look on her face told him it was time.

He let out the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding and followed her back into the room to say goodbye one final time.

When Erik emerged from George’s room for the last time, Jeremy was there waiting for him. He blinked, unsure if the kid was real, or if in his dazed state he had conjured up what he most wanted to see at the moment. Everything felt so blurry, like he was looking through smeared glasses that weren’t even his prescription. Then Jeremy took his arm and the world became crystal clear again.

George was nothing if not organized. As soon as the diagnosis had been confirmed three years ago, he had pre-arranged everything and made sure his affairs were in order. Before he lost the ability, he wrote pages of detailed notes on what needed to be done. Even in his death, George had wanted to make things easy for him.

So there was nothing for him to do now but go back to his empty house.

Jeremy drove him home, but Erik barely remembered anything about the trip. For so long he had prayed for George to be freed from his torment. For three years his entire life had been about making George’s last years, months, days count, but he hadn’t really considered the after. Now that it had arrived, he felt nothing.

Somehow he made it up the steps and into the house. He supposed that’s the way it would be from now on—just keep putting one foot in front of the other and somehow you would get there. Erik was aware of Jeremy following close behind, asking him if he wanted a drink or something. Erik ignored him, shut the door to his bedroom, stripped off his clothes and crawled into bed.

He awoke near dawn to the feel of arms around him and a warm body spooned against his back. It was something he hadn’t felt in years. And it felt so damned good that he buried his face in the pillow and let loose the tears he hadn’t been able to shed at the hospital.

George was gone. Truly gone.

And sweet, trusting Jeremy had stayed with him all night. He was aware now of Jeremy gently stroking his chest. It wasn’t sexual but soothing, and he savored the comforting embrace, reluctant to move from this warm and safe cocoon. The moment he stepped from this bed he would be on his own for the first time in nearly thirty years. It was terrifying.

As the tears dried on his face, Erik fully registered the press of young, nubile body against his back, the sweet-sour morning smell of another person, and arousal stirred in his groin.

Jeremy’s lips grazed his bare shoulder, letting Erik know he was awake. “Your phone kept ringing last night. Your voicemail will be full.”

“You didn’t need to stay,” he said without turning his head.

“I know. But I thought you could use the company.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Jeremy gave him a tight squeeze and snuggled closer. “Think I got the better end of the deal.”

Erik felt the unmistakable nudge of a hard cock against his ass. The need to be filled was so strong it made him shiver. Guilt and lust churned within him. He eased his hips away before he was tempted to do something he’d regret later.

“Sorry,” Jeremy whispered. “I can’t help that.”

Erik swallowed. “No worries.” The guilt ate at him; here he was lying in bed with a young man not twenty-four hours after George died. The worst part was admitting how much he liked it. He didn’t want Jeremy to go. But he should get up. He had a 9:30 a.m. appointment and calls to make.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Okay
. What a word to describe his life without George. “I’ll have to be, won’t I?” Erik was grateful Jeremy didn’t try to offer him platitudes about it getting better. He knew it would eventually, one day, but right now he didn’t want to hear that. “You know what the truly horrible thing is? I’m relieved in a way,” he admitted roughly. “Not just for him. For me too. I’m a monster.”

“No, you’re not.”

Erik patted the arm Jeremy had draped over his waist. “
Thank you.
You’re a sweet kid to take care of an old guy like me.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

He couldn’t stop the leap of his heart that time. For some reason Jeremy had developed a crush on him and it both thrilled and horrified him at the same time. “I know.” He sighed. He rolled to his back so he could look at Jeremy’s hopeful brown eyes. “Jeremy,” he began gently.

Jeremy sat up, scowling. “This is where you tell me I’m a child, isn’t it?”

“I remember what it’s like to finally figure it all out. The rush. Everything’s new and better than you’d thought it would be. It’s like a high. You want it to never stop. It’s easy to get caught up in it.”

“That’s not what this is about,” he insisted.

“I’m flattered. And obviously I’m not immune to you. But I’m also old enough to be your father.”

Jeremy squinted. “My dad is forty-three. How old are you?”

Erik laughed harshly; he covered his face with his hands. “Oh, man. It’s worse than I thought. Kid, I’m forty-nine. In six more months I’ll hit the big five-O.”

“Age is just a number.”

“Yeah, a pretty big number.”

Jeremy jumped out of the bed, clearly pissed off. He stalked across the room searching for his clothes. He was definitely sporting some impressive morning wood in his boy-short briefs. Erik was so tempted to call him back to bed.

“Look, I know this isn’t exactly a good time. And it’s easier for you to think of me as some dumb kid who doesn’t know what he wants.” He jammed his legs into his jeans and zipped up his fly angrily. “But just because you’re older doesn’t mean you know everything.” His last words were muffled as he drew his sweater over his head. When he reemerged, his hair stood up with static electricity. “One day you’re going to have to admit there is something here.”

He gaped at the irritated young man, wishing he didn’t sound so mature and reasonable. Then Jeremy ruined it by adding. “I have to go, or I’ll miss my first class. I’ll text you later.”

Erik pulled the blankets over his head and shut out the sound of the world.

ON THANKSGIVING DAY, Erik was halfway through his
Golden Girls
marathon and a six-pack of Heineken when the doorbell rang. He bristled at the interruption, intending on ignoring it, but whoever it was seemed insistent on disturbing his peaceful afternoon.

Still grumbling (who went door-to-door on Thanksgiving?), he jerked open the door without even checking the sidelight and did a double-take when he found Jeremy on his front step. Or rather, on his way down it since he’d obviously given up and was about to leave. To Erik’s chagrin, that damned flutter in his stomach came back with a vengeance.

He hadn’t seen Jeremy since George’s funeral, but they had continued their email correspondence and occasional late-night phone call. Lately though, Jeremy had been busy with schoolwork and mid-terms, or so he said, and Erik had begun to wonder if he’d been forgotten. He’d wondered if Jeremy had finally come to his senses, and the thought had left him depressed and lonely.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were travelling home for the holidays.”

Jeremy shrugged. “Changed my mind. Can I come in?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He stepped back and let Jeremy into the house.

“What about you?” he asked. “No plans?”

“Some friends invited me over.”

Jeremy’s fingers froze on the zipper of his coat. “Oh.”

“But I turned them down. I wasn’t feeling like good company.”

“I guess I should have called first. Do you want me to leave?”

Erik took one look at that hopeful expression and knew he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Jeremy here. “No,” he admitted. The brilliant smile he received made him glad he’d been honest.

He took Jeremy’s coat and hung it up in the closet, but Jeremy held on to the small canvas shopping bag he carried. “What’s in the bag?”

“Something for later.”

He raised an eyebrow at the cryptic answer but decided not to make a big deal about it. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Everything okay at home?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“So tell me again why you’re here with me and not home enjoying a turkey dinner with your family?”

“Because I wanted to be here more.”

Excitement tumbled in Erik’s stomach at Jeremy’s honest answer. He tried not to get too worked up over it. Maybe Jeremy was just being charitable. “You don’t need to check up on me.”

“I’m not. Also, I got a job on campus and I have to work a few hours tomorrow. There wasn’t much point in going all the way home only to turn around and come back.”

“How are you going to handle a job with a full course load?”

Jeremy shrugged. “I’ll manage. When there’s something I want, I don’t mind putting in an extra effort.” He left Erik with his mouth hanging open and went into the living room where he sat down on the couch. “What are you watching,” he asked, conveniently changing the subject. He set the mysterious bag at his feet.