Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 3

Part one got flagged for some reason, and I haven't figured out how to contest it. Let me know if I need to repost it or something. Ya'll, I really thought I was cooking back when I started this shit. Now I'm not so sure; maybe it's because I'm farther away from my own college experience than when I wrote the bulk of this epilogue. Whatever. Here's some more of it, and hopefully it resembles a story with plot and characters.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 2

"Are you going the foam party on Friday?" I ask casually in lab.

Dillon shakes his head, and then sighs. "Yeah, actually." I knew this, but it makes it way easier knowing that he doesn't want to go. We work in silence for a little bit, until he does what I want and asks, "You?"

"Naw, man," I say. "My friend Carter's pledging Sig Ep, and they're all having a Fortnite tournament. It’s supposed to be a fundraiser."

Dillon seems to perk up at that, but he doesn't say anything.

"You wanna come?" I can feel him analyzing me, but my face is all up in the microscope. "Okay, I found the water flea."

Dillon passes me a dropper of alcohol and replies, "I could make it."


Dillon fits in easily with the guys, making fart jokes like everyone else. I wonder if it's habit or experience. You almost can't tell he's gay, but every so often he'll look at some guy with this kind of like, heavy-lidded sleepy gaze, up and down real quick, and it's totally obvious that he's imagining that guy naked. He only does it when they're not looking, so I can't tell if he does it to me. He does smile at me different than everyone else, and I wonder if that's because he knows I have a dumb secret; like, even Carter doesn't have that kind of shit on me.

What Carter does have is even less of a filter than me. “Hey, are you biracial?” he asks Dillon just out of nowhere.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I was wondering.”

“Why?” Dillon asks.

“I figured you were too dark to be Middle Eastern or something. And blue eyes, brown skin.” Carter points at his own face to contrast.

I punch him in the side. “That’s fucking rude, bro. Stop microagressing.”

“I wasn’t!” Carter looks at Dillon, rubbing where I hit him. “Was I?”

Dillon makes a funny face, like yeah duh, and just walks back into the main room.

“Who are you trying to impress?” I hiss at Carter.

My friend shrugs. “What? I was just making conversation; I only know that he played All State and is gay.”

“Then talk about football. Or that we’re in Human Biology together.”

“Jesus. Sorry, mom.”

“LeAndre would—”

Carter scoffs. “You always bring him up like he and Aaron were Jesus and John the fucking Baptist. We’re all just people, bruh. Chill out for half a second, kay?”

I let him walk back into the den alone. Am I really being that much of a tightass? Kayleigh is big into social issues, though, and if Dillon tells her that I called out a friend, then that could earn me a lot of brownie points.


“—with fruit,” Dillon is saying as I walk into the room.

"You're kidding," Carter scoffs as I flop down on the couch.

Dillon's eyes slide to me and back again, and shakes his head. "Said it was better than pussy 'cause he didn't have to work for it." He grins a little, getting into the story. "Bananas were his favorite. He'd drape the peel over his dick," he shifted to mimic the act, "and wrap his hand around it to jack off."

Carter and the guys guffaw. "That's sick, man," someone says, and I say it's better than spreading peanut butter on your balls for a dog to lick off, because I always have another story.

"That's fucked up," Carter declares. “Dude, can you imagine Porkchop—”

I wave my hands quickly. “Don't drag my family pets into this, pervert.”

"That's like the guy in Washington who died from getting fucked by a horse," Dillon adds, and all eyes are back on him. It's a true story, there's a documentary, and now bestiality of any sort is outlawed in the state. Carter looks it up.

"How do you know this shit?" Carter asks, and then he gets that look when he's about to say something mean that he thinks is funny. "You got a Google alert for 'fucked up the ass?’ Get around the porn blockers?"

I go stiff. You're not supposed to do that, are you? Like, you don't out somebody in front of a bunch of strangers. Everybody's quiet, but Dillon acts like he hasn't noticed.

"Naw, it's 'cause I learned how to read in school," he says in that same tone. "Newspaper, motherfucker."

"Who the fuck reads a newspaper anymore?" asks another pledge. It's turned from guys shooting shit to some weird bear-baiting, and I don't know how to fix it.

Dillon shrugs. "People who don't spread peanut butter on their balls for the family Labrador, probably."

I kick Carter in the shins. "Where's the fuckin' pizza, asshole?"

It's clearly an attempt to change the subject, but it helps that Carter forgot to order it on his way over.


Dillon and I end up walking home at the same time because Carter's passed the fuck out and Dillon has even farther to go. I don't know what to say to him. Like, I invited him along, but just because I was trying to prove I'm not a complete asshole.

"Sorry about Carter," I say awkwardly.

Dillon gives me this look I can't read, and says, "Jay. I can take care of myself."

"Dude, I'm not saying you can't, I'm just sorry you had to, or whatever." I shove my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.

"It's fine, bro, I know you're doing this because of Kayleigh." He shakes his head at my protest. "Seriously, it's fine. I had fun. Carter's mean, but he's just insecure."

I shuffle. "Yeah. Well…"

"I'll tell Kayleigh you were friendly and all, but she's gonna date who she wants. I can't really control that." Dillon's gaze slides to the side a little when he adds, "and to be honest, dude, you're not really her type. She likes tall brainy guys."

"I'm tall."

He laughs, "You’re five-ten at most, just like me. Probably five-nine."

"And I'm not a fucking idiot."

Dillon sighs. "You know what I mean. Kayleigh dated valedictorians in high school."

Most of me wants to get mad, but there’s no better way to kill my chances with Kayleigh than to let my anger show now. For all I know, Dillon has been updating her the whole time on Snap or something. So I choose to pretend.

“All good, man. Just want to make sure you didn’t feel too weird,” I say with a shrug. “If I didn’t know Carter I wouldn’t have gone, so. You know.”

Dillon chuckles like he can see right through me. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you in lab, I guess.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

We part ways, and I’m suddenly in a better mood not having to babysit him anymore.

If I could have it my way, that would have been our last real conversation. Dillon clearly doesn’t like me, and I have enough friends already. The thing is, we're still lab partners, and so every Tuesday and Thursday we have to get along enough to complete assignments. It’s not like we have to meet outside lab, so it’s fine. I just have to be nice enough that I don’t get a reputation as a homophobe, just in case Kayleigh’s getting reports.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 1

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Personal Assistant.4

Living up to the title of this blog, I tell you what. This thing almost has a trajectory.

My boss still touched me too much. We were working a lot—I had notes and files and emails to prove that my presence wasn’t completely unnecessary—but he’d massage my shoulders or the back of my neck while he looked over my notes. Even at dinner, when his wife and two children were there, Mr. Baker would touch my foot with his or rest his hand on my thigh under the table. His hand went to the small of my back whenever he passed behind me in the kitchen.

It wasn't as though we went entirely unnoticed. "Ken just follows you around everywhere," I overheard Regina tell Mr. Baker when they were relaxing in the living room. She sounded amused. "He's like a puppy."

Personal Assistant.3

 Still not exactly sure where this is going, but here's more one it.

"We're heading to the lake next weekend," Stuart told me not long after, "my family and I. I want you to come along."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," I replied honestly, giving a quick smile to my coworkers passing the open door.

He clapped me on the shoulder, but as usual let it rest a little too long. “It’ll be a working trip,” he offered. “You’ll get time and a half.”

I marked myself as out of office. After all, what could he do with four children and a wife running amok?

***

Like a family in a black-and-white film, the Baker clan waited for us on the steps of the lake house. Some of the clan, I corrected myself. The children I had met at the chili cookoff weren’t there.

Stuart kissed his wife before turning to me.

"You've met Regina," he said, squeezing her waist, "and this is my oldest boy, Graham. Graham is going to be a junior this year."

Personal Assistant.2

Read part 1 here

From the way he waited for me to make the first real move, I reckoned he’d had affairs with employees in the past. In fact, he stayed mostly still while I unbuckled his trousers and slid the zipper down, and merely held onto the edge of his desk when I fished inside of his tight briefs. His cock was nice, about seven inches and cut with a flared head. I’d never seen a straight man with shaved balls, at least one who wasn’t in sex work, so I wondered how he explained it to Mrs. Baker.

Will.5

I'm in the part of this story where I don't really know what a satisfying ending would be. Will's perspective, which in my head cannon is after the events of Declan's story, is already published in "Olive Juice," so we know where they end up. I'm open to suggestions.

If you haven't read the previous parts…that's what the tags are for, baby.

“No offense, but I’m going to be sick.”

My parents were both about to scold me for being snarky when Cassie walked in, probably from show choir or something. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

Mom, Dad, and I almost spoke simultaneously. “Nothing.”

Cassie gave us a funny look, and then got a super annoying smirk. “Is this about Declan’s crush on Will?”

Ha ha! With that I escaped upstairs so that my sister could get the It’s-Unkind-And-Unsafe-To-Out-Someone speech. They even made her come tell me sorry, which was amazing. Cassie was so frickin mad.

One good thing about prom coming up was that no one was looking at me or Will. Surviving the week and prom was the only conversation we had. I tried to invite Will to lunch off-campus, but a group of our friends caught up to us on the way.

Will.4

 "I mean, of course you don't have to," I began, but Will saved me the embarrassment of giving him an out by coming back to me.

He sat next to me and clasped his hands. "What do you want me to do?"

Was it not obvious? I wanted a fricking handjob. But Will, I was realizing, was delicate. Not like me. I needed to be as gentle with him as he’d been with me. "Just touch me," I replied, placing my hand on the back of his head. Will responded softly when I kissed him. He let me draw him to me again, and as I sat back Will's leg slipped over mine. It was like it belonged there. Like his little noises, like his cum drying sticky on my stomach, like his hand on my neck.

Will's fingertips trailed lightly down my throat, my chest, and slowly over my stomach. My breath stopped for a moment when, with his lips still pressed against mine, Will pulled the  waistband of my warmups away from my hips. It was happening. It was really happening, Will was going to touch my cock. Was I shaking?

“I’m sorry if I shoot immediately,” I breathed when his mouth left mine to start on my neck. “I’m really turned on.”

Will leaned back to look me in the eyes. “Really?”

“Are you kidding? Yes, really.”

He seemed relieved, which was so cute that I kissed him again. This time Will opened his lips, and suddenly our tongues were touching, and holy fucking shit he was really touching my hardon with, like, his bare hand.

“Whoa,” I breathed.

Will pulled back to look at me. “Is that okay?”

I grinned. “Fucking amazing, dude. C’mere.” I slung my arm around his shoulder to pull him into me.

Will sneaked his free arm around my waist, leaning farther onto me in the process. I giggled a little when his fingertips brushed my ribs, but in this position, with his leg over mine, it kind of felt like he was pinning me down. There was room to get loose, but the adrenaline coursing through me made my stomach feel tingly in a new way. I liked it.

Tongue snaking deeper into my mouth, Will stroked me urgently. Before I could tell him it was starting to burn a little, he pulled his hand out of my shorts to spit on his palm, only to go right back to jacking me off. Fuck, that was hot.

“Keep it up; I’m gonna come,” I panted.

Will made an encouraging sound, and let me breathe a little while he kissed my neck. One big gasp of air and I was coming on both of us, clinging to Will and the couch and my balls emptied.

Instinctively I pulled Will down to lay on the couch with me. Like, if I didn’t cuddle him he’d try to run away again. I could reach the shirt I’d flung away earlier, and Will let me use it to wipe us both. We settled with Will’s head on my sweaty shoulder, and I tried to think of something to say.

“Did you, uh…get your Physics homework done?” I asked.

Will could have laughed and gone with it, but instead he said quietly, “I feel kinda weird.”

“Why?”

“Did you want to—” his eyes flicked up to meet mine, then he glanced away. “I didn’t expect it, is all.”

It’s not all, obviously, but I didn’t really want to explore what he was getting at in case it meant we couldn’t be friends anymore. “I’m okay if you’re okay,” I said.

Will smiled a little bit. “I’m definitely okay.”

“Good and…thank you? I guess?”

Now Will did chuckle, and pushed himself upwards. “Yeah, no problem,” he replied with a smile. “I gotta go home.”

He wasn’t making an excuse; any longer and his parents would be calling my parents to get their good boy home for the evening. Will helped me open the windows and he ducked into the hall bath to clean up a little. I, like, couldn’t stop smiling. I don’t know; it wasn’t like I’d planned anything to happen, but now that we’d fooled around and had fun then maybe we could do it again.

“I’m gonna head out,” Will informed me, leaning around the doorframe to nod at me. “I can’t come over until after prom, so—”

“Are you serious?” I whined. “That’s so far away!”

“It’s next week,” Will corrected me. “Aren’t you busy, too? That’s why they moved prom. So that it would happen after the games and meets and stuff but before tournaments.”

Just because he was right didn’t mean I had to be mature about it. “You mean I gotta jack myself off now?” I whined.

Will froze.

“Sorry, was that too soon? Or too much?” I tried to backtrack, panicking a little. “Not cool?”

My friend shook his head. “Nah, you’re good. I just didn’t think…” A grin cracked his serious expression and his ears turned pink. “Can’t believe we did that.”

Afraid I’d put my foot in my mouth again, I just grinned back. Will watched me find my crusty shirt—I was going to have to do my own laundry this week—and approach him. This time when I kissed him Will’s hand drifted up to rest at my hip, holding me in place. It was soft, sweet, with just a teeny tiny bit of tongue.

“We’re still cool, right?” I half-whispered when Will pulled back.

He nodded. “Can we put a pin in this until after prom?”

“That’s still too long,” I grumbled.

This time it was Will who gave me a little peck on the lips. “You’ll be okay.”

He ended up being right. I was okay, better than okay, for the next several days. It felt like this new, exciting, kinda scary, very sexy unnamed thing had burst into my life and I was just trying to get a handle on it. Could we still interact like normal at school? Yes, it turned out. Did I try to get something starting with Will in the back of the library one time? Yes, but I failed because Will was too worried about getting caught. Did he sneakily kiss the back of my neck on his way out of the locker room one time when I was running behind? Also yes, and he had the cheekiest grin on his face I’d ever seen as he bounded out the door behind the other baseball players. I don’t think anyone saw him, which made me look a little crazy when I yelped in surprise.

“You’ve been in high spirits lately,” Mom commented one night. “You got a girlfriend?”

“Nope!” I replied cheerfully.

Dad narrowed his eyes at me with a knowing smile. “Got a boyfriend?”

“I dunno. Maybe,” I said, feeling my face heat up.

Mom whirled on me. “Really, Dec? That’s so exciting! Is it Will?”

“I said maybe!”

“You’re being safe, right?” Dad gave me his concerned face. “I mean, the internet might be a better resource than your mom and I—"

“Well…” Mom gave him a look. 

“Oh, my god! We’re not doing anything!” Did I just learn that my parents knew about butt stuff?

“When the time comes, just know that we’re a nonjudgmental resource,” Dad finished.

“No offense, but I’m going to be sick.”

Personal Assistant.1

 This is part of the Commencement collection—the secondary character in the prom story shows up here as well. I'm giving myself a C grade on this one, even if there are huge gaps that need to be filled. (Living up to the blog title, here).

If you’re going to be the side piece, don’t meet the family.

I can’t even claim that it started innocently. When the temp agency sent me to Envision IT I was doing data entry and scanning old records into the system. Mr. Baker was his own division, something with marketing or sales. He was very friendly with me and touched me a lot, though being a fairly touchy-feely person myself I didn’t mind. It was never inappropriate, just pats on the back or shoulder, or grabbing my arm to get my attention, or thumping my chest when I said something funny. However, he also flirted with me to an extent that I found embarrassingly obvious.

So when Mr. Call-Me-Stuart Baker and I were alone in the office that night, a mere one month after I had been hired on, I was prepared for his proposition.

"Do you have a college degree, Ken?" he asked.

"No, sir," I answered, mostly intent on updating his computer. "I got my GED, but it's tough to find work for more than ten dollars an hour."

"I hear ya," Mr. Baker chuckled. He was full of shit. He had a Master's in some sort of business. "But listen: the Board is talking about making me the exec. Tom is retiring next month."

"Congratulations," I replied. The install was finished. It could have been done at any time; Mr. Baker had waited until the last minute to ask me. I was just waiting for this married father of four to reveal his ulterior motive.

Mr. Baker leaned on his desk, thigh touching my arm. "How would you like a promotion, Ken?"

"That would be great," I answered frankly. "To what?"

"You'd be my assistant," he said. "I like you; I think you're a smart guy and you learn quickly."

Only one of those statements was true. I leaned back in his chair. "I don't know how to use any of those scheduling programs. I can barely use Microsoft Word."

"You could take some night classes."

"To be honest, sir, I don't have the money." That sounded too much like an invitation, but I was a little irritated with this after-hours game that I didn't even want to play. Just say it already.

Nudging me with his leg, Mr. Baker reminded me, “That’s why I want to promote you, Ken. Plus, I think you’re up to it.”

For fuck’s sake, I could see the outline of his erection forming in his trousers. I could ignore it and see how far old Stuart would push, or I could cut the chit chat and just suck him off, or I could play along. I did need the money.

"I'm up for anything," I replied. Inwardly I groaned. More suggestive words could not have sprung from my lips had I been reading a bad porn script. Mr. Baker didn’t seem to mind; he pushed my chair back so he could sit on the desk in front of me, smarmy smile on his face.

En garde.

Will.3

 Read part 2 here.

Will hadn't quite caught up to me yet. Maybe he thought I was going to try and smother him with a couch pillow. He wiped his eyes with one hand, still laughing a little bit, and looked up at me.

I kissed him.

All these feelings came rushing through me too fast to distinguish one from another, and they formed a tight pulsing ball in the center of my chest. Together they sang at me, "What are you doing?"

The kiss was brief, maybe only a second or two longer than that first one. Will giggled when our lips separated. I couldn't watch him smile and not smile back. How could anyone, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and that one dimple appeared, just on the right cheek?

“Was that okay?” I asked quietly. “Can I do it again?”