The Boy in Makeup

I was on my own. I had an adult decision to make. I needed some quiet time to think it through.

I was awake most of the night, searching for clarity. I thought I knew what I should do. I know I knew what I wanted to do.

In the end, I followed my heart. I reasoned that, in life, the only constant is change. Neither life nor relationships were static. Today's non-negotiable condition could be tomorrow's memory. When my mother woke up the next morning, I told her I was spending Friday at Steve's.

Chapter Thirteen

When I arrived at Steve's on Friday, he made his intentions clear. We went to his room, and he showed me a bag of condoms and personal lubricant he had bought for the sleepover. From the amount, it looked like he was planning for there not to be much sleeping.

Steve closed and locked his bedroom door.

"My dad's at work, and my mom's getting her hair done," he said, slipping his shirt over his head and unbuttoning his jeans. He was quickly naked and needy in front of me. I buried my face in his musky crotch, smelling as much of him as I could. He leaned back against the door as I took him in my mouth and quickly drained him.

When I tried to kiss him, he insisted I rinse my mouth with Scope first. He didn't want to taste himself on my tongue.

When I got back to his room, Steve was ready and had rolled a condom on. Without kissing me, he lubed us both up, and penetrated me from behind. I was on all fours. I stroked myself as he did. He came first. The feeling and the sound of him coming finished me off. With no other option, I spilled on his comforter.

"Fuck, Eric, how am I going to explain that?" he asked, wiping it up with his shirt.

"Don't. You're 18. Your mother has to know you masturbate."

"Maybe, but we should have planned better. Next time, we need to put down a towel or something."

"Why the condom?" I asked.

"I dunno. It seemed a little gross finishing inside of you."

"For you or for me?"

"For you."

"Not at all. I liked it better when you did."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Awesome. I hate condoms. Sally always makes me wear two. I can barely feel her, and sometimes she makes me stop before I come."

"Why two?"

"She doesn't want to get pregnant."

"What time will your mom be home?" I asked. Steve looked at his watch and guessed we had about a half hour. Time for one more.

"Can we try it with me on my back?"

"Sure."

We put a towel down, I rolled onto my back, and Steve moved over me. I grabbed him and guided him to the target. He pressed, but the angle wasn't right.

"I think you're going to have to raise your legs up." I did, but it still wasn't right.

"Here," Steve said, hooking his hands under my knees and pushing my legs back toward my head. He tried, but couldn't find me without my help. I took him in my hand, and he pressed in. I gasped, and he said "whoa" as his pubic hair pressed against my taint. As he started to slide in and out of me, I started to tingle in my stomach.

"Oh, God, right there," I said.

Steve lasted longer than he had yet. I tingled with every thrust. As he got closer, he gripped my calves tighter and tighter, and I got harder and harder. He had his eyes closed and a look of pure pleasure on his face. A thin layer of sweat coated me as I gripped myself and matched his pace.

He fucked me recklessly. He panted, "I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," as I felt him fill me. I came, too, harder than I ever had. I hit myself in the face, neck, and chest. Steve collapsed onto me, smearing my load between us. I kissed the side of his face.

Once he caught his breath, he pulled out of me and wiped himself off. "That was awesome," he said. "And loud. Did you hear the bed? It was a rockin', but no came a knockin'," he said, laughing.

"Yeah, it was loud."

"So were you. You were groanin' and moanin' like a girl."

"I know. You hit something in me. It was almost like I had a clit. It made my stomach tingle, like the bottom had dropped out."

"Interesting. I wonder what it was."

"I don't know. But, we're doing it on my back from now on."

Steve left to take a shower. I thought of trying to join him, but it was too risky; his mother could be home anytime.

While he was gone, I wondered about the dynamics of what was going on. I noticed that we hadn't kissed. And that Steve still had not touched me, even with his hand.

When Steve returned from his shower, he exclaimed, "Pew. This room stinks of sex. Open the window."

I did, then went to clean myself. I braced myself against the wall and let the water run down my back and neck.

When I climbed into bed next to him that night, I asked why there was no kissing.

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"I already know you're crazy. We're all crazy."

"Well, first, there's Sally."

"What?" I asked, sarcastically. "Did she say it was okay for you to have sex with other people as long as you don't kiss?"

"No. But, somehow, it feels less bad if we don't kiss. It feels less like cheating."

"You are crazy." But, at least he had some sort of conscience. Unlike his father.

"What's the other reason?"

"Huh?"

"You said, 'first, there's Sally.' Which means there's a second. What's the second?"

"It seems gay to kiss."

"We used to kiss all the time."

"I know. It didn't seem gay then. It was just practice. But, adding sex makes kissing seem gay."

"The sex is gay, Steve. I hate to break it to you, but fucking a guy in the ass is as gay as it gets."

"I know, but kissing seems to make it worse, at least to me."

"Well, it makes me feel bad that we don't. It makes me feel cheap. Sucking you and letting you fuck me without kissing makes me feel like a whore."

Steve didn't say a word. He just sighed, rolled into me, and put his lips on mine. He kissed me long and deep, our lips folding into each other's, our tongues gently touching and then fighting and then just touching again.

"You are kind of a whore," he whispered, before adding "Thank God."

"Touch me," I whispered.

"I want to, but I'm not sure I can."

"You have to."

Steve kissed me again. As he did, he tentatively ran his hand down my torso. I pushed his crotch into my hip as he slid his hand under the waistband of my briefs and took me in his hand. His was the first hand other than my own to touch my bare cock. I slid my underwear down.

"Grip it tight," I whispered between kisses. He did, and I moved my hips back and forth. It didn't take long for me to grunt and come. I broke the kiss and bit his shoulder as I did.

It didn't take long for Steve to move over me. He was needy, and he wanted to take me yet again. I wanted him to take me. I was so glad we had the resilience of youth on our side. We could come and come and come.

Steve slid into me. I loved the sight of him over me, the vulnerability of being under him.

We should have moved to the floor, but we didn't. So, Steve moved slowly in and out of me, trying not to make the springs squeak. When he found the sweet spot he had found earlier, I ached to cry out. I stifled it. I opened my eyes and stared into Steve's. "Shhh," was all he said as he slowly pleasured himself and me.

"Tell me when you're about there," I insisted.

He did't say a word. He just kept going, slowing in, back out, in, back out. It was delirious and excruciating.

"I'm really close," he finally said.

I touched myself. Steve watched me.

"I'm there, Eric," he said, arching his back and driving himself into me as deeply as he could. The sensation of him swelling and finishing was enough for me, and I joined him, coating my stomach. He collapsed onto me again, burying his face in the pillow next to my face.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered. "I wish Sally would let me slow fuck her like that. She always hurries me."

"Steve, please don't talk about Sally."

"Right. Sorry."

We cleaned each other up and settled back into each other. I wanted to ask some questions, but I wasn't sure I wanted the answers. My mind was running fast and hard.

I rolled onto my side and kissed Steve's cheek. He rolled onto his side and kissed my nose.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked.

"Sure."

"Are you gay?"

"I don't think so. I really like Sally and I really like fucking her. I wish it was better and freer, but I really like doing it."

"So, you're bi?"

"I'm really not sure. Like I said in my note, I've always had a soft spot for you. But, I'm not really into guys. Like, I wasn't attracted to Evans. I was jealous of him, not you. I'm not attracted to Luke." Luke was the quarterback of our football team and unquestionably the hottest guy at PHS. "But, I really like you, and I really like what we just did."

"I love you," I blurted. For no good reason.

"You can't. Not yet."

"I do."

"Well, then, thank you. It's good to be loved."

"You don't love me, do you?"

"I'm not sure. I'm not sure I've ever loved anyone. So, I'm not sure what it feels like. But, like I said, I really like you, Eric. A lot."

"What do you like the most about me?"

"Your strength. I wish I was as strong as you. I break in the storm. You don't. You're still standing after the hurricane's gone through."

"You don't have to."

"I know. I resolve to be better, to be stronger. And, when the opportunity arises, I'm not. I'm like Peter. I know I should't falter, but I do. Three times, before the cock crows."

"This is heady stuff for 18."

"I know. It's another reason I like you. I can talk with you about things I can't talk with anyone else about. I certainly couldn't talk like this with Sally. She's great, but she's not layered."

I moved my face toward Steve and kissed him. "It's okay if you don't love me yet. You will."

Chapter Fourteen

Steve and I awoke Saturday morning still face to face and wrapped in each other's arms. As we looked into each other's eyes, I tickled his back and side. Once you start having sex, you don't want to stop.

"Let's move to the floor," I suggested.

"Okay."

"Put two condoms on."

"Why?"

"I have an idea. Start with two condoms on. Then take one off. Then take the other off. That way, it'll last longer."

"You want it to last longer?" he asked, incredulous.

"I do. I love being under you." Advertently or inadvertently, I was drawing a stark contrast with Sally.

With no springs to worry about, Steve entered me and went at me hard. I grabbed his briefs, wadded them up, and bit down on them to stifle any noises I might make. Steve hooked my knees over his shoulders and pinned my hands over my head.

I was quickly lost in what he was doing to me. When he hit the sweet spot, I closed my eyes, arched my neck, and tried not to cry out. I could feel an orgasm building, but I couldn't touch myself.

I was saved only by Steve stopping to remove the first condom.

I pulled his briefs out of my mouths and urged him to take them both off.

"Am I hurting you?"

"Now, you're thrilling me."

I could tell when Steve returned to me that he'd left the second condom on. I was quickly headed back toward an orgasm. With my hands again pinned down, I couldn't touch myself. I didn't need to. I arched my back and neck as the most intense orgasm I'd ever had thundered through me and shook me from head to toe. I couldn't help myself. I cried out. Steve clapped has hand over my mouth with a look of horror on his face. "Sorry," I said, using only my eyes. He accepted my apology by removing his hand and kissing me.

"Take the other condom off."

He pulled out and did.

"Now, come here."

He straddled me, and I took him in my mouth. His hips quickly matched my rhythm. I took his shaft in my hand and focused my tongue on his head.

"Oh, here it comes," he rasped. And it did, filling my mouth and throat. I gulped it all as I kept going, licking and sucking him until he couldn't take anymore. I didn't know if I was competing with Sally, but, if I was, I wanted to make sure I was winning.

As we dressed, I thanked Steve. "That was awesome."

"It was. Just when I think it can't get better, it does."

When I reached for the door, Steve turned me around, and pressed his mouth to mine.

"I want to tell you something before we go downstairs. . . . This isn't just sex. The sex is great, but this is more than that. I seriously don't want you to feel like a whore."

"I don't," I laughed.

"Good, because it's more than that."

I knew what he was saying. He wasn't explicit, but he was saying it. I decided to confirm it for him.

"I love you, too."

He didn't say a word. He just smiled and turned toward the stairs.

We went downstairs for breakfast. Steve's parents had to know what was going on, but they pretended not to. I wondered how much pretense existed under that roof and within that family.

*****

I floated home. My mother was still at the salon, so I had the apartment to myself. I decided to do myself up to celebrate. By time I was finished, I looked like Cher in one of her most glamorous videos.

I danced a little in the mirror, lounged on my mother's bed like a starlet, and then started the slow process of cleaning my face. When I was finished, I filled the tub, slid into a warm bubble bath, and listened to the Cure. I must have fallen asleep, as my mother startled me when she knocked on the bathoom door.

I invited her in, and she sat on the toilet lid and asked me about my night. I filled her in, alluding to what had happened, but sparing her the details. She visibly flinched when I mentioned Sally.

"He has a girlfriend?"

"Yes, but not a wife," I rejoined, reminding her - not at all subtly - that Mrs. Lustig was being cuckolded by what she and Mr. Lustig were doing.

My mother leaned against the tank of the toilet and sighed, looking defeated. I thought she was tired of my lack of support for her affair, but that turned out not to be it at all.

"What am I teaching you?"

"Excuse me?" I challenged her, thinking she thought she was imparting lessons that I was ignoring.

"What kind of behavior am I modeling for you? How can I expect you to care about Sally if I don't care about Ellen? What kind of role model has your mother become?"

"Mother, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rattle you."

"I'm not rattled, Butterscotch. I'm thinking clearly. Finally."

My mother hadn't called me Butterscotch since I was little. She had found that name in my blonde hair.

"It's all good, Mom. Don't fret."

"I am fretting. I need to clean my life up. And you need to clean yours up, too."

"Why? That's between Sally and Steve. It's not my problem."

"It is, at least partly. You're part of it. Ellen and Henry are my problem, at least partly. I'm part of it."

"Are you going to break up with Mr. Lustig?"

"I think I have to, at least until he's no longer married. You've reminded me who I'm supposed to be. It's not who I am right now."

"Do you think I have to break up with Steve?"

"I'm not making any decisions for you. You're 18. You can make decisions for yourself. I can only make decisions for me. But, I want you to really think about what your doing, not only selfishly, but also selflessly."

She was right. I pretended not to like pretense, but I appeared content with it when it was in my interest.

Chapter Fifteen

The following day, I slipped a note through the slits in Steve's locker. "We need to talk about you/me and you/Sally. Meet me in the band room after school."

I waited in the band room for an hour. Steve never showed.

As I was walking home, a car pulled up beside me. I glanced over, saw Sally, her brother (John), Luke, and a couple of other football players. I hurried up.

They drove faster than I could walk.

I started to run.

They drove faster than I could run.

They cut me off and spilled out of the car.

Sally's brother tackled me and pinned me to the ground.

"Why are you writing love notes to my sister's boyfriend?" he demanded.

"You should ask him."

"I did," Sally snorted. "He said you've been doing it for awhile, and he's told you to stop. He said you pretend in the notes that there's something going on between you two, and you won't stop. He said you're delusional."

"He's lying."

"You're lying," Sally hissed, as Luke kicked me in the side. "We're here to make you stop."

Sally watched as I was kicked, spit on, and stomped on. I covered my face, making sure all they could land were body blows. When they were certain I'd had enough, Sally warned me that they'd be back if she even caught me looking at Steve, much less talking to him.

I limped home, stopping only to vomit. Not only because I was hurt, but because Steve had been complicit in the attack, if not the cause of it.

My mother vomited when she saw me. I loved the Black Knight, so I tried to convince my mother they were "mere flesh wounds," but she didn't buy it. She wanted to take me to the emergency room. She was sure I had broken ribs. I was certain they were only bruised.

She also wanted to call the police. She wanted Sally and her thug friends arrested and hauled in.

I avoided both. After a hot bath, I settled into my mother's bed. I put on the Smith's and wallowed, sharing Morrissey's pain. I was almost asleep when my mother knocked on the door and told me Steve wanted to see me. I would have told her to tell him to go away, but my ribs were too sore for me to muster much volume.

Steve went white when he saw me. I had protected my face, but my body was bruised and cut. His eyes were wet with tears when he got to the edge of the bed.

"My God, Eric, what did they do to you?"

I didn't respond. I was angry at him for fueling Sally's fire. When he tried to kiss my forehead, I turned away.

"Eric, I understand why you're mad, but what was I supposed to tell her?"

"How about the truth?"

"That wouldn't have made things any better."

"We don't know that. We just know you chose to protect yourself."

"We do know that. 'We're sleeping together behind your back' would not have spared you. Why'd you slide a note in my locker anyway? You know Sally has my combination and is in there all the time."

He had a point. I had been careless. I didn't deserve this outcome, but I had not been as careful as I should have been. I don't think I was trying to force the issue, but I might have been.

"I don't know. I guess I wasn't thinking."

"Bullshit. You're always thinking, Eric. Always. You think more than anyone I know."

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to think about what I didn't want to think about.

"I can't believe you told her I was stalking you."

"I know. . . . I'm sorry," he said. I could tell he meant it.

I wanted Steve to leave. I also wanted him to stay. I wanted to spurn him. I also wanted his arms around around me.

I kept my eyes closed. I felt him move. I felt his lips on my neck, my shoulder, and my chest. I quickly realized he was kissing each of my bruises and cuts. It hurt when he kissed my ribs. But, it also titillated me. I got hard. I couldn't help myself.

"Raise your hips," he said. Without thinking, I did. He pulled my underwear off and moved between my legs. For the first time, I felt his lips on me. I wanted to push him off. I knew this was an act of penance, not desire. I wanted him to want me. I didn't want him to take me only out of pity.

I did nothing to stop him. I felt tears run from my eyes as he worked me toward an orgasm. I couldn't stop him or myself. He sucked and sucked as I got closer and closer. He kept at me as I came in his mouth. He spit my cum in the shorts he had pulled off of me.

He kissed his way back up me. He didn't exactly trace the trail he had traveled down, but he didn't deviate by much.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

I felt like I had to tell him the truth. "I feel like you betrayed me to Sally. And, I feel like you know you did, and you just did what you did to try to make up for it, not because you wanted to. I want to be wanted, Steve, not pitied. And, I want to be someone's someone, not someone's other one."