“Fuck, yeah! That’s the way!” I kept pounding away at the tight ass beneath me, plunging toward a release that I hoped would ease my loneliness, even if it only lasted for a few seconds.
Come on, man. Blow, already.
“Shit!” the owner of that sweet hole yelled.
There you go.
I came a few seconds later with a grunt, his channel like a vice around my cock as it milked me dry. Finally, I pulled out and tossed the condom in the wastebasket nearby. My heart was still beating hard, but the loneliness hadn’t lessened one iota.
Damn it.
Not wanting to linger, I stood on wobbly legs and searched around for my underwear. I’d clean up at home.
“Do you have to go so soon?” the guy asked.
I didn’t even get his name. I’d picked him up earlier that evening at a bar in town.
“It’s late, and I have an early day tomorrow.” Not really, but I had to scoot before I did something stupid, like burst into tears.
“Oh, okay.” His disappointment wouldn’t sway me.
I finished dressing and then leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for the ride, honey.” I moved to his doorway. “See you around,” I said after one last glance.
“Anytime,” was his hopeful response.
Once outside, I hopped into my Camaro and took off, fighting the despair that threatened to swallow me whole. Half an hour later, I pulled into my driveway and parked. I rested my head on the steering wheel.
God
I really needed to stop this downward spiral, but I was helpless against it. I worked like a dog, and still the darkness lingered. The only thing that gave me a moment’s respite was sex, and lots of it.
After letting myself into the house, I headed for the bedroom and a shower. None of my close friends understood what I was going through. How could they? They were bliss, personified.
Royce and Rodney had been happily married for a few years now, and they had eyes for no one else. My other close friend, Chris Gables, seemed happy with his new boyfriend, Killian McPhee.
So that just left me as the odd one out, without a man, and dwelling on my pathetic, unrequited thoughts of Crispin Brisco.
Beautiful. That was the only way to describe Crispin. Pale skin, light gray eyes, and a lovely smile. He made men and women his slaves with just a glance. I wanted to run my hands through his unruly brown hair every time I saw him.
I would have tried hating the guy if he wasn’t so damn nice.He was sweet and caring and one hundred percent straight. He lived next door and had a cat named Mandu. Mandu always found her way over to my place, and I was constantly returning the sneaky feline to her owner.
I had no idea what Crispin did for a living, but he was always at home. He’d lived next door for the past five years, and I’d been crushing on him for about that long. I’d seen him kiss women goodbye on his doorstep—only two, thankfully—and they always seemed reluctant to leave. I would be, too, if I were in their position.
I’d tried to break myself of this addiction many times. Once, I even went on a date with Rodney before he and Royce got their heads out of their asses and got back together. I soon realized that both men were meant for each other, and no waywas I horning in on someone else’s happy. Thus, I ended up right back where I started.
But more than that, I felt a general dissatisfaction with everything, and it was probably convenient to blame my feelings for Crispin as the cause of my general malaise. I didn’t want to look at that too closely.
I got into bed after my shower, naked as usual, and closed my eyes. Hopefully, I wouldn’t dream of Crispin again, but I knew it was futile.
* * * *
At work the next day, I tried to concentrate on the grant proposal that was due by noon. It was almost done, but I’d been having a hard time keeping my mind on the job in recent weeks.
“Maybry, are you almost done with the application?” My boss, Barbra Ethan stood next to my desk. She was attractive, in a gamine way, but deadly if you crossed her. She always addressed members of staff by their last names.
“Uh, yes. Give me an hour, and it’ll be on your desk,” I replied, running a hand through my hair as I turned away from the computer screen.
She tapped her fingers on my desk. “I appreciate that. Thank you.” Clearing her throat, Barbra added, “You seem really distracted lately. What gives?”
Shit. Was it that obvious, now?
“Sorry. Have a lot on my mind. Has my work been below par, or—”
“Not at all. I just know you.” She sat in the extra chair in my office. “We’ve worked together for a long time, and it seems that you’re just, I don’t know…existing, maybe. I think you need to get away for a while. Do you even remember the last time you took a few days off, other than for sick leave or jury duty?”
Where was this going?
“I dunno, maybe two years ago?”
“Try four years.”
Really?
“Listen,” she said. “You do great work, and we’re truly happy to have you as a part of our GLBT nonprofit organization. You’re one of the best in your field. But you’ve been a little off in the last few months, and it’s getting worse. Your passion has diminished. You seem to be just churning things out without…”
Barbra sighed.
