Naked

But here’s the thing about people like Nadia, who pride themselves on being color-blind—in the end, all they see is color. Nadia hadn’t introduced me to her boyfriend because we both liked to draw, or we both listened to Depeche Mode, or even just to be polite. Carlos and I knew it.

Nadia didn’t get it. She chattered on between us, dropping names as if I should know them, referencing hip-hop songs. Carlos caught my gaze and gave me a small shrug she didn’t see. He looked at her with obvious affection, though, stopping her finally with a single murmured, “Baby.”

Nadia laughed, looking confused. “Huh?”

“If you don’t let me eat some of this food, I’m going to pass out.”

“Carlos works out a lot,” Nadia confided as her boyfriend began to decimate the buffet table. “He’s always hungry.”

I was saved from having to comment by the kerfuffle arising in the living room. I’d still been aware of Alex Kennedy at the corner of my vision. He hadn’t strayed from the fireplace. The man he’d been talking to had raised his voice and his hands, gesturing and pointing. Accusing.

This would not be the first time drama had exploded at Patrick’s house; throw a party for a bunch of queens and there are never enough crowns to go around, as he was fond of saying. I wasn’t the only one who turned to watch, either. Alex, instead of engaging in the back-and-forth, only shook his head and lifted his beer to his lips.

“You…you’re such an asshole!” cried the other man, voice wobbling in a way that made me cringe in sympathy and embarrassment for him at the same time. “I don’t know why I ever bothered with you!”

It was easy enough for me to see why he’d bothered. Alex Kennedy was a smoking-hot piece of yum. He stood, stoic, in the onslaught of another round of insults and accusations, until finally the other man stormed off, followed by a few clucking friends. The entire incident had taken only a few minutes and had turned only a couple of heads. By far not the most exciting or dramatic argument ever to hit one of Patrick’s parties, and in fact likely to be forgotten by the end of the night by everyone but the two men involved.

Well, and me.

I was fascinated.

He doesn’t like girls, I reminded myself, and dug into the roast beef, diet be damned. And when I looked up from the carnage of my plate, Alex Kennedy was gone.

It was a good party, one of Patrick’s best. By the time midnight rolled around, I’d had my fill of goodies and gossip and had to hide my yawn behind my hand so nobody would accuse me of being the old lady I sometimes felt I’d become. Karaoke had begun in the living room, where so many people were dancing both the menorah in the window and the Christmas tree in the corner were shaking.

Was that…? Oh, no. It was. I covered my eyes with a hand and peeked through my fingers as a man took center stage to sing along with Beyoncé’s runaway dance-club anthem from a few years before. The one about putting a ring on it. Oh, and he was dancing, too, keeping perfect time without missing a step. He probably had his own clip up on YouTube. Everyone clapped and shouted, but I looked to the corner by the fireplace for the object of his attention. Yep. Alex Kennedy.

Somehow I didn’t think a ring had ever been put on any part of him but his cock.

“Perk up,” Teddy advised, and filled my glass with wine I didn’t want. “Party’s not over yet.”

I groaned and leaned against him. “Maybe I should just head home.”

He shook his head with a laugh and patted his pocket. “Got your keys.”

I lifted my glass. “If you hadn’t insisted on keeping this full…”

We both laughed. I’d spent so many nights in their guest room his insistence on me staying had almost nothing to do with the fact I’d been drinking. Now, though, as I watched through the arched doorway to the living room-cum-dance floor, I wished I’d been smarter and not planned ahead to spend the night; I wished I could walk from here, but it was too cold and dark and too long a way. I wished I could hitch a ride with someone, but though a few guests had already left, most were still in full-on celebration mode and none of them lived out my way.

I hid another yawn. “I think I need some coffee.”

Teddy frowned. “Poor Livvy. Always working so hard.”

“If I don’t, nobody else will do it for me.” I shrugged.

“Well, I’m impressed. Striking out on your own. Quitting your job. Patrick didn’t think you’d stick with it.” Teddy looked momentarily uncomfortable, as if he’d spilled a secret.

“I know he didn’t.”

“He’s proud of you, too, Liv.”

I wasn’t so sure Patrick had a right to pride in my accomplishments, but I didn’t say so. Instead, I let Teddy hug and pet me a little, because he’s like a cuddlier version of the Borg from Star Trek. Resistance is futile. Not only that, but I’m a sucker for a big man in a Santa sweater; what can I say?

I handed him my glass of wine. “I’m going for some coffee. Or at least a Coke or something.”

I could’ve just gone to bed, but with the party still in full swing it was unlikely I’d be able to sleep. Patrick’s kitchen was kitschy cute, complete with a swinging-tailed kitty clock and retro-looking appliances. Well, except for the space-age espresso machine, the fancy kind that steamed milk and used those special pods. I’d never learned to use it and in fact didn’t dare touch it in case I dialed something wrong and sent us all back to the Stone Age. I’d be the one to step on the butterfly.

I knew he had a regular coffeemaker someplace, but a search of the cabinets didn’t turn one up. Patrick never got rid of anything—and I mean never, not his favorite T-shirt or a lamp with a broken switch. Hell, obviously not me. He hoarded belongings and people like the Zombpocalypse was coming and the only way to survive was by building a new civilization out of outdated wardrobes, nonfunctioning appliances…and past lovers. I knew he still had that coffeemaker.

Maybe on the screened back porch, plastic-sheeted now for protection against the winter. Patrick had stored a couple dozen boxes of miscellaneous crap there, promising Teddy he’d sort through it, but never doing so. His espresso machine was new, so there was an excellent chance he’d simply moved the old machine aside.

Bracing myself against the cold, I pushed open the back door and went onto the porch. I hissed out heat and broke at once into goose-pimply shivers. I didn’t turn on the overhead light, but went for the first stack of boxes. Didn’t find the coffeemaker, just a collection of porn mags I flipped through with numb, fumbly fingers and shoved back inside the box. It was the closest I was likely to get to an erection tonight, and don’t think I didn’t mourn that fact just a little.

Starting my own business had been great for my ego and sense of satisfaction. It’d been hell on my bank account and my sex life. No time to date, no time to invest in another person, even if I’d found someone I thought would be worth making an effort for. No time even for casual f lirting, since working for myself meant I was alone most of the time. My other two jobs, the ones I’d kept so I could cover my mortgage, weren’t exactly conducive to meeting men. Taking school and sports team photos required a lot of traveling, and though I met many a DILF—a dad I’d like to fuck—most of them were married. My job at Foto Folks was fun and paid well, but my clients were invariably middle-aged women looking for “boudoir” shots or moms who brought their kids to get pictures taken in front of giant stuffed bears. I’d developed a severe allergy to feather boas. I was run-down, but I was happy. I was tired and sometimes stressed, but I was doing what I loved.

I was also officially undersexed.

“C’mon, Patrick, where’d you put it?” I moved toward the porch’s far end, around the sheet-covered wicker furniture and behind a large stack of lawn chairs. “Ah, bingo.”

Coffeemaker, filters, even a zipped plastic bag of coffee beans. He really never got rid of anything. I laughed and shook my head, and turned at the sound of the back door opening behind me.

Freeze-frame.

Two silhouettes appeared in the doorway. Men. The smaller one shoved the bigger one against the wall. Oh. I got it. I was ready to clear my throat and announce my presence when the taller man turned his face toward the light.

How could I have ever thought him commonly, regularly handsome? Alex Kennedy’s profile made me want to weep, if only because there are too few people in this life who are so beautiful while also being so real. In full light everything on his face had lined up just right. Here, now, with shadow splitting him in half, I could see his nose was too sharp, his lower jaw a little too undercut for perfection. His hair fell over his forehead, and he grimaced as the man in front of him dropped to his knees and unzipped Alex’s trousers.

I still had time to call out a warning. They were far gone, maybe drunk or maybe just so deep in their lust they weren’t paying attention to anything else, but I could’ve stopped them if I really wanted to. I didn’t.

“Evan,” the low, creamy voice that must belong to Alex said. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up.”

The shadows morphed into figures again, one standing tall, the other crouched at his feet. The light from the streetlamp down the alley was barely bright enough to illuminate anything, but it was enough to show me what was going on. And, I thought, to block me from their view if they’d bothered to look, since I was in the far corner and settled deep in shadow. So long as I kept quiet and still, chances were very good they’d never even know I was there. They would come…and then go.

Evan yanked Alex’s trousers down past his knees. I stifled my sudden harsh breath with my hand. I couldn’t see cock, but I’m not too proud to admit I looked for it. What I could see was Evan’s hand stroking. His shoulder moved, a lump of black against gray. Alex’s head tipped back with a dull thud against the wall.

“Shut up and take it,” Evan said.

Maybe he meant to be menacing or sexy, but Alex only laughed and put his hand on Evan’s head. Did I imagine the twist and twine of his fingers in the other man’s hair? It was impossible to see, but in the next second, when Evan’s head jerked back, I thought it must’ve been from his lover’s grip.

“Are you fucking serious?” Alex said around his laughter.

The next noise Evan made didn’t quite hit menacing. I didn’t find it very sexy but Alex must have, because he loosed his grip enough to let Evan’s head bob forward. I heard the soft, wet noise of a mouth on f lesh.

Damn.

“Fuck, that’s good.”