Casual (Sex) Friday (66 Faces) (2 page)

"Wow. That's some cock."

Ben jumped, and a strong hand landed on his shoulder. His eyes widened, he locked his phone to hide the screen, and his body braced for flight. He whipped his head around, and—Calvin? Calvin's hand gripped his shoulder tightly and held him in place. Ben's heart thumped so hard and so fast, Calvin must have been able to hear it.

Calvin smirked. "There's a vein in your neck pulsing wildly—much like the vein on that guy's dick." Calvin didn't move his hand, and Ben could only stare at him. "Calm down, Ben," Calvin said conversationally. "Don't want people to stare."

Ben slowly turned his head back to face the park. Calvin. It was Calvin. Ben closed his eyes, savoring the relief. Thank God. It could have been any number of people who would be offended by a man watching porn in a park and who promptly called the cops, but it was just Calvin. That didn't make the situation any less embarrassing, but Ben was pretty sure Calvin wouldn't have him arrested.

He opened his eyes and watched the path in front of him. Two women walked by, pushing strollers and chatting. Five men approached from the opposite direction, running. They were fast and heavily muscled. They weren't strangers anymore; they were enemies. If they happened to look at him, see what he had been doing, Ben could be in trouble. He tried to look harmless. Unthreatening. His one-way bubble had popped, and just as he could see the world, the world could very clearly see him.

A body, Calvin's, passed within touching distance in front of him. Calvin moved Ben's gym bag and sat so close to Ben that their legs touched. Ben didn't move. He didn't talk. He only took a breath when it was absolutely necessary.

"You were so fucking aroused." Calvin put his hand on Ben's leg. "I could have knelt in front of you, unzipped your pants, taken your cock out and blown you in front of the entire park, and you wouldn't have cared. Have enjoyed it even."

Ben turned his head and stared wide-eyed at Calvin. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Ben was very sure men who exposed themselves in public were taken to court and then jail. He shook his head slightly.

"Oh yes. I bet you wouldn't have lasted two minutes before shooting down my throat."

Ben shook his head again.

Calvin put his arm around Ben's shoulders and leaned back against the bench. "I get it now," he said, the tone contemplative. "Why you keep saying no to me."

Ben doubted that, but remained silent. Calvin didn't say anything for several minutes. Then he gave Ben's shoulder a squeeze and looked at him. "We're going for a drink tonight. No arguments."

Emotions other than fear were starting to re-enter Ben's universe. Who did Calvin think he was?
Telling
Ben what he was going to do? But on the other hand, why did Calvin think he could tell Ben what to do? Was it because he now had something to hold over Ben's head? Was he going to call the police? The HR department? His coworkers?

"Come on, Ben. This little … kink of yours can be our secret—if you get a drink with me."

Ben nodded. Blackmail—right. That settled things. Calvin stood and Ben followed, slinging his bag over his shoulder and putting his phone in his pocket before glaring at Calvin.

Calvin took him to a bar in Capitol Hill. It was still relatively early, so the bar was quiet. Once the sun went down and the live music started playing it would become boisterous, verging on rowdy. They sat in a booth tucked in the far corner of the room. The dim lighting gave a false impression of privacy.

A waiter approached, slinking through the tightly packed tables, couches, and chairs to reach them. His skinny jeans clung to the angles of his hips and long lines of his lanky legs. Ben extracted his wallet and pulled out his license in anticipation of the pretty waiter's arrival. When he did arrive, he cocked his hip to the side and gave them a flirty grin. "ID, boys?" Ben and Calvin handed over their licenses.

Pretty Boy held them up under a beam of light and studied them. Ben took the opportunity to conduct his own study of Pretty Boy. The shirt, shimmering and iridescent under the band of dim light, seamlessly melded into his forearms, which were covered in bright, colorful tattoos of dragons, medusas, flames, and waves. The emotion and color glowing on the waiter's skin made Ben want to lean forward and lick the tattoos all the way up to his pierced ears and spikey black hair.

"Thanks." The waiter handed back their licenses. "I'm Julian. What can I do for you tonight?" Pretty Boy had flirtation mastered, and Ben couldn't help grinning at him.

"Dead Guy for me, and …" Calvin nodded at Ben.

"Same," Ben said. Pretty Boy nodded, and Ben watched him weave his way back towards the bar.

"Like him, do you?"

Ben shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the delicious eye candy to look at Calvin. Ben was afraid to commit to any response concrete enough that it required verbalization. Calvin's foot touched his under the table and then ran up and down Ben's leg. If Ben weren't so freaked out, he might have enjoyed the feeling.

"He
is
pretty," Calvin said. "Has a boyfriend, though."

Ben narrowed his eyes. "You know this?"

"I do. Asked him out last week."

Calvin asked
him
out every week; what was he doing asking out pretty boys in eyeliner? Calvin shrugged and said, "No one will say yes if I don't ask.
Some people
," he looked pointedly at Ben, "won't say yes even if I do."

Pretty Boy came back, this time with a tray held high in the air that required him to do a dance of sorts to reach their table. He set their drinks down and went off to see to other tables. Ben took a fortifying gulp of his beer.

"You'd love to watch him, wouldn't you?"

Ben choked, grabbed a napkin, and coughed his drink back out into the thin paper square. "What?" he croaked. At that moment, Ben would have given anything to have Boring Calvin back and droning on about the Mariners or hiking trails and hidden lakes in the Cascades.

"Where else do you think he's tattooed?" Calvin leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin on his face. "What kind of cock piercing do you think he has?" Ben stared at Calvin wide-eyed and, despite the situation, very aroused. Calvin gave Pretty Boy a quick look. "My money's on a ladder."

Oh God
. Ben pictured Pretty Boy shirtless, colors sprawling and twining around his torso and down past the waist of his tight jeans. Fly open, balls spilling out, and cock straight up. And little silver dots running the length. Ben shifted his weight on the chair, trying to give his dick some relief. None came. Calvin smirked at him from across the table.

More people were coming in now. A woman with fiery red hair came in; she looked over the crowd. Calvin called her over. "Oy, Michelle, over here!" Michelle grinned and came to stand by their table. "Michelle, this is Ben. Michelle is my neighbor; we share a cat."

Ben smiled and offered his hand. "Nice to meet you." Michelle had a strong grip, and large, rather masculine hands. Ben took a second look at her quickly. She nodded in greeting, and then ignored him for the most part. Ben observed the pair while they made small talk. He observed the way Calvin relaxed around her and how it was different from what Ben thought Calvin looked like relaxed. Eventually, Michelle sauntered away to go sit with other friends. A loud peal of laughter came from their table.

Calvin took a sip of his drink. "I admire her. She is one of the most … honest people I know. She knows who she is, what she wants, and she goes after it." Calvin looked straight into Ben's eyes. "She is my role model in life."

Ben's gaze slid back to Michelle. He'd watched men who enjoyed dressing as women on 66 Faces. He couldn't tell how they identified, and he didn't ask. When the garments came off and it was just hard cock and tight hole, nothing else really mattered. Calvin's fingers trailed up the back of Ben's hand, startling him.

"Come home with me."

"No. That's—That's not a good idea."

"It wasn't a request." Calvin raised an eyebrow. "I promise a show."

Ben was still aroused. He could go with Calvin.
Whatever
could happen. They could get off. But where would that leave them in morning? Monday at work? Next Friday when Calvin asked him out again. That would be very awkward. The thought made his arousal go down a notch.

"Now?" Ben still hadn't decided. Calvin's fingers continued to run along his skin, leaving tingles and promises in their wake.

"Just as soon as I pay." Pretty Boy came by and took Calvin's money.

"I can pay for my dri—"

"Don't be so damn prickly Ben, it's only a drink." Calvin smirked and nodded in that self-assured bastard way of his. "You're coming home with me anyway, so if you really want, you can make it up to me there." And then he winked. He actually winked.

Ben glared. This was ridiculous. He could go back to his own home—alone. Calvin wouldn't actually do anything. At least, Ben was pretty sure he wouldn't. Ben could have a … session … on 66 Faces. Participate more than usual. Take care of the lust Pretty Boy ignited.

The smart choice was to go home, but Ben was intrigued. And horny. Calvin had been anything but boring and had manipulated Ben's arousal moment by moment with intent and expertise. Going home with Calvin felt like, no matter the outcome, life would be different the next day. But he had to go—had to find out exactly what Calvin was offering.

Calvin stood next to the table looking down at Ben, waiting for him to get up. It was just one night. Not even a night, a few more hours. Such a short amount of time couldn't do any real harm. Decision made, Ben stood and, without waiting, walked to the door. On the sidewalk, he hesitated.

"Car's that way," Calvin said as he nodded to the left. Ben knew where Calvin was parked, but there was also a bus stop to the right. He could walk over, hop on the next bus, and be home in an hour. No Calvin; no complications; no fun.

Ben took a deep breath and turned to the left. When he started walking, Calvin put his hand on the small of Ben's back and propelled him forward all the way to passenger side of the car. As soon as Ben was seated, the car door swung closed with a thud.

What the hell had he gotten himself in to?

It turned out that Calvin lived in a little house in Ravenna snuggly nestled between the dull, dark shapes of other houses. The occasional street lamp cast enough light to highlight the manicured yards and well-maintained houses, each with a bright porch light illuminating doors painted in rich earth tones.

"Here we are," Calvin said as he turned off the car. "Home sweet home." He got out and walked around to Ben's side. Ben got out just as Calvin reached the passenger door, and Calvin immediately put his arm around Ben's waist. The trees swayed gently and leaves rustled with breezes flowing through the neighborhood. Ben stared at the clay-red door that stood closed between them and whatever was going to happen next. Calvin guided him up the stairs, opened the door, and ushered him inside. The door shut behind him and a lock snicked.

Calvin finally removed his arm from Ben's waist. He slid his shoes off and kicked them to the corner, adding to a small pile of other shoes. Ben did the same with his shoes, and then quickly took in Calvin's house.

The interior looked exactly as Ben had expected. Normal. Stylish, but in that predictable way most people colored their homes:  walls were the palest blues and greens except for strategic bold accent walls. The accent walls were the only bold choices. Everything else was sedate and safe. Matching furniture made from clean lines and neutral colors. Hard wood floors covered with monotone area rugs. Large photos on the wall of grand vistas and majestic mountains to go with Calvin's common hiking hobby.

"Nice pictures." Ben waved at the photos, mostly to say something nice about Calvin's home.

"Thanks. I took most of those last year."

Ben looked at them again. Impressive. And surprising. Ben wouldn't have expected Calvin to have such a keen eye for composition. In one of the pictures, a bright red daypack was propped against a rock in the foreground. A little thrill of amusement moved through him, and he couldn't help smiling. Just a little thing that said, "I was here."

"Do you want a drink?" Calvin asked.

Ben tore his gaze away from the picture. Calvin was looking at him with a puzzled expression. "No, thanks."

Calvin shrugged and then gave him a mischievous grin. "Want to just get right into things, eh?"

"Get right into what?" Sex? He'd thought Calvin was just a little more suave than that.

"The show?" Calvin pulled off his polo shirt. Underneath, he had on a white tank top that accentuated the toned muscles of his shoulders and upper arms. He draped the shirt over the banister and started up the stairs. "You didn't want a drink, which was the means to small pleasantries. So I assume you want to get right into it. Well," Calvin said, with a waggle of his eyebrows, "come on up."

Calvin led him to an office. Ben stood in the doorway, unsure what to do with himself. Ben was ignored while Calvin arranged the monitor on a desk and swept aside random office knick-knacks. He turned back to Ben after he moved a chair into the corner of the room. "Sit there."

Ben raised an eyebrow. Calvin shrugged. "Good view."

Ben sat in the chair. He was facing the desk and its large widescreen monitor. Calvin left the room and returned with a short stool and a large purple plug. Ben's cock hardened as several scenarios involving Calvin and the plug ran through his head. He loved—
loved
—watching men with toys.

Calvin set the stool down on the far right side of the desk so that Ben could see the entirety of the screen as well as Calvin. The plug also went to the right of the screen. Calvin took a piece of paper out of the printer and grabbed a large black marker. He bent over the table, wrote something on the paper, folded it in half, and set it facing the camera that sat to the left of the monitor.

"66 Faces right?" Calvin looked up at Ben, waiting for confirmation.