Feather duster in hand, I danced around the apartment shaking my groove thang. Annie Lennox was blaring from the speakers. I shimmied across the wood floors in my socks and yelled out over the music in my game-show-host voice, “With a CD titled
Diva
, this is the segment of the population to which Miss Lennox was trying to cater.” I shimmied back in the opposite direction. “Who are big nelly queers, Alex?”
Sliding across the wood floors like Tom Cruise in
Risky Business
, I stopped in front of the mirror, lifted the feather duster up to my face, and sang along with “Walking on Broken Glass.” I thrust my hips, doing my Elvis impersonation, and laughed at myself. My parents both loved Elvis. It wound up being one of the few things they had in common. I'd taught myself to do the wild hip-thrusting dance when I was about eight or nine. Not many things could put a smile on both of their faces simultaneously, but that was one of them.
I shook my hips and shoulders while admiring my ensemble as reflected back to me from the mirror. An old pair of cutoff jeans, an homage to the summer vacations spent at the lake as a kid. They was paired with one of the white wifebeaters I'd stolen from Danny. It had a spaghetti stain from the time Danny and I had waged a food war in the kitchen. Completing the picture: a red bandanna tied around my head like a biker boy.
I thrust my hands out into the air, letting my spirit fingers fly freely as I sang along with Annie about no longer caring for sugar.
“You need to lay off the sugar, anyway,” Danny said from behind me as he kicked the front door closed.
I jumped about a mile off the floor, placing the fisted feather duster over my rapidly beating heart. Danny burst out laughing and walked over to the kitchen counter to set down the canvas grocery bags.
“I'm such a heifer, I know.” I composed myself as I meandered over to the stereo and turning down the volume. “I had a double mochaccino and, like, twelve Hershey's Kisses for breakfast.”
“Great, candy is like crack to you. Now I'm going to have to survive another Julie sugar rush.”
“Don't knock it.” I pointed the feather duster at him. “My little fixes are what keep this apartment clean.” Danny was wearing an old pair of worn jeans that snuggly wrapped around his business, and an old Dave Matthews Band T-shirt.
“You just need another outlet to pour all that pent-up energy into.”
“Macramé…decoupage?”
“No…like fucking.”
Pointing the feather duster toward his delectably denim-wrapped crotch, I asked, “Is there any decision that you
don't
make with that thing?”
“Which deodorant to use?” he mused, unpacking the bags. “No, wait, I'm pretty sure it was the muscular arm holding the hammer that made me choose Arm and Hammer deodorant.”
“You're hopeless… I sure hope you never suffer from erectile dysfunction. Your whole world would fall apart.”
“Hey!” He spun around with a serious expression. “That's not funny. I suppose
you'd
consider that some sort of cosmic justice.”
“You reap what you sow,” I said with a big cheesy grin.
“Julie, sex isn't a bad thing. As long as you have two consenting adults and everyone has a good time, who are you hurting? Besides, I've never heard any complaints.”
“How could you? You have 'em out the door before the sweat has time to dry.”
“That's not true.” Danny laughed. “God, you exaggerate.” He sighed and went back to emptying the grocery bags. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat before the reading?”
“Sure,” I said, “or we could just fix something here.”
“I don't think so.” Danny looked at me briefly before sauntering up to me and lightly rubbing his finger over the stain on my shirt. “This is what happened the last time we tried that.”
Goose bumps ran amok over my entire body as he stroked my stain. We stood looking at one another and smiling. He pulled the feather duster out of my hand and set it on the counter behind him, then he picked up the roll of paper towels and Windex, and shoved one into each of my hands. Placing his massive man-hands on my shoulders, he twirled me around, swatted me on the butt, and said, “Get back to work before I have to take you over my knee.”
I stood there for a few minutes mulling over that mental picture. Feeling my cock spring to attention, I thought, Good Christ, I do need to get laid. I nodded my head as I ogled the roll of paper towels in my hand. I decided to clean the bathroom first: kill two birds with one stone.
* * * * *
Once we had the apartment looking good enough for a layout in
Architectural Digest
, Danny and I collapsed onto the couch.
“I'm exhausted.” Danny pretended he wasn't even able to lift his arm.
“Me too.” I looked over at him. “Tonight should be fun, though.”
“Yeah, I'm sure the reading will be great.” He let out a big yawn. “I can't believe we let this apartment get so dirty. I thought we were clean.”
“We are. Dust just has this way of multiplying when you're not looking.” I took the unspoken bull by the horns. “Do you still want to go tonight?”
“Well…do you?” he asked.
“Not really. The thought of getting ready, ironing clothes, and washing and drying the hair is not that appealing.”
“Well, how does taking a quick shower, throwing on some boxers and a T-shirt, and lying in front of the TV sound?”
“Heaven!”
Danny sprang up off the couch with renewed energy. “I did happen to rent
Anne of Avonlea
last night when I went to the video store.”
“We could order a pizza,” I added, following him as I rose to my feet.
“I personally, would like to see what happens to that Anne girl.”
“You're so adorable.” I laughed at him while shaking my head. “You want the shower first?”
“Okay.” He headed off into his bedroom while I grabbed my cell off the kitchen island.
“You want the usual?” I called out.
“Yep, large, ultrathin crust, Greek-style pizza with spinach, black olives, and feta cheese,” he answered as he came out of the bedroom and made a beeline for the bathroom.
He means business, I thought as I ordered. As I hung up the phone I stretched over the island and scooped up my thirty-two-ounce Sonic Diet Coke and took a big swig off the straw. I continued sucking as I headed for my little ciggie station, where my pack sat waiting patiently on the sill.
I lit one and inhaled, then blew a long stream out the window as I took a seat. In only a moment, though, I coughed from overinhaling as I burst out laughing. Danny was singing Beyonce's “Single Ladies” in the shower. Tears began to run out of the corners of my eyes as I hacked and cackled while he sang about “putting a ring on it” in a shrieky falsetto.
I cursed a bit noticing a few ashes on the wood floor I'd just polished to a shiny gleam. “That boy seriously can't carry a tune.” It took everything I had not to imagine him doing the dance from the video in the shower. It had been several months since we'd actually done this—spent the day alone together, and I was happy.
It had seemed as if we'd been drifting apart for quite a while, though. Then again, that's what I'd wanted, wasn't it? At the time it hurt too much to be around Danny, but maybe now that I had Andy it would be better. I was lucky to have found Andy right as I was getting over Danny. Thank God that whole drama was over. Now Danny and I could just be friends. Besides, Andy was perfect for me, not to mention an absolute dreamboat.
I looked up as the bathroom door swung open and steam billowed into the living room. Danny sauntered out, bronzed skin glistening in the light. I leaned forward sitting on the sill, mouth slightly agape. He smiled at me as my eyes took in his towel-clad, rock-hard body.
“All yours,” he sung out before heading into his bedroom and shutting the door.
I felt my ass slipping off the windowsill as I fell onto the floor with a
thud
. I cursed as I scrambled to pick up my lit cigarette before climbing back onto my feet. Beyond embarrassed, I flung my cigarette butt out the open window in disgust, and I chastised myself as I started for the kitchen to grab a damp sponge to clean the floor.
Holy shit!
I spun when I heard someone scream, “Hey!” from out on the street below.
I hit the floor as if expecting bullets to start flying.
Did I just bean an innocent bystander with my flying butt?
I listened quietly, and I heard the voice call out, “That burned me, you prick!”
I covered my mouth with my hands, feeling horrible yet too chicken to go to the window and face the individual I'd unintentionally assaulted. Then, from the street came, “Fucking asshole!” I started to laugh a bit as I crawled into the kitchen. I got up on my knees, retrieved the sponge, and crawled back to the window to clean up my mess.
As I wiped down the floor, I remembered back to just after I'd moved into the loft with Danny. I'd only been living here a few weeks or so, which had flown by in a haze since Danny and I had spent practically every free minute of it together. I was flying high because he'd finally met Gabby, and they got on like chocolate and peanut butter. I knew that I'd found the perfect man for me. It felt like we were almost twins.
Okay, well maybe not twins. That's a little creepy. But soul mates for sure.
Danny was friends with the owner of the Downspout, which was apparently how I got the job. I discovered during my first night of work that there was an actual waiting list to tend bar there. Every cocktail-slinging queer in town wanted the job I got, and aside from the perfect martini my father had shown me how to make when I was eleven, I'd never mixed a drink in my life.
I hadn't realized it at the time, but that early martini training was the first sign that pointed toward the end of my parents' marriage. Apparently my mother had refused to make them for my father anymore, so he trained me in the art. I became the little martini maker, which all my parents' friends thought was completely adorable.
How I'd fallen from my upper-middle-class upbringing to slinging cocktails in a thumping-bumping gay club I still couldn't figure, but the mere fact that I couldn't seem to be bothered spending too much time thinking about it might have had something to do with it. It felt amazing to discover that Danny had gone to all the trouble to help me get the job. I just knew that meant he must really care about me.
I couldn't wait to get home that night. I'd decided that Danny deserved a thank-you, and I was going to give him one he'd soon not forget. The night flew by, and despite the fact that the other bartender who'd been working with me, Jeff, had been a prick the entire evening, I'd wound up having a pretty good time. I was informed by one of the regulars that Jeff had wanted one his friends to get my job, and to not take it personally since he was just being a spoiled little bitch. Honestly, you'd be shocked by the amount of behind-the-scenes politicking there is in a gay bar. Or maybe you wouldn't.
I'd busted my ass to finish all the cleaning so I could rush home and start living the first day of the rest of my new, happy life. Plus, I was desperate to toe-curlingly fuck the hell out of the man I loved. I entered the flat and pretty much dropped the contents of my hands onto the floor. I locked the front door, rushed into the kitchen, and took out a bottle of water. I chugged half the bottle down and went straight for his bedroom.
It was odd that his door was shut all the way. He usually left it cracked a bit, I thought before laughing. I'd lived there for a few weeks, and all of a sudden I thought I knew him like the back of my hand. I stopped at the bathroom door, realizing the polite thing for me to do would be to at least brush my teeth. Then I heard a noise coming from Danny's room, and I froze.
I sidled up next to his bedroom door and heard it again, a little louder this time.
It couldn't be
. My head began to spin.
There was no way it could be…
“Oh yeah, fuck me, Danny.” I heard it, muffled by bed linens and the door, but clear and unmistakable.
I took a few steps back as my mouth hung open. My stomach began to ache as my chest filled with dread and pressure. How could I have been so wrong?
You'd imagined it all, you nitwit. Of course he wasn't in love with you; he just met you
. My head jerked up as I heard more moaning, and this time Danny was joining in.
I quickly sought refuge in my bedroom and quietly closed the door behind me. I looked around desperately, as I could hear them even more clearly in my room. I jumped slightly as I heard a smack, followed by a “hell yeah, fuck my ass!”
My mouth fell slack in disgust and repulsion.
Why was it so loud in here?
I didn't want to hear the man I was in love with doing the nasty with another guy. I threw myself onto the bed, snatching up the pillows and covering my ears. I noticed a vent next to the ceiling on the wall that separated our rooms.
Great…we must share an air-return vent
. My heart was pounding and breaking at the same time. I cursed myself for being such a fool-hearted little tra-la-la. Once again I'd allowed my fantasies to fool me into thinking… Well, maybe they hadn't? Perhaps I just hadn't given it enough time yet. I sat up, suddenly filled with hope, allowing the pillows to drop away from my ears. That's it. In time he'd realize he did love—
“Oh yeah, take that cock, boy,” I heard as I yanked the pillows back up to cover my ears. I scowled at the wall separating our bedrooms.