Dreaming of You (2 page)

I gave him a little wink and felt the tiniest bit of melancholy take me. “Well, in case you didn’t know, the feeling is completely mutual.”

“The bedroom was never where we had any of our problems,” he said with a smirk. “Our relationship is so much different now than it was then. We depend on one another for our livelihood, and I would certainly never want to do anything to jeopardize that. It doesn’t mean that I no longer care for you or desire you.”

I let out a little sigh. “I know; it still makes me a little sad sometimes.”

“Me too, but it’s not like I’m that guy you dream about,” he added with a teasing expression.

“Okay, I am officially declaring it ‘unacceptable to make fun of Aden week.’”

“I’ll do what I can,” he said with a sigh.

The waiter brought us our salads, and we spent the rest of the meal discussing the business of our restaurant, congratulating one another for the things we had accomplished, and talking about the things we still wanted to achieve. My gaze periodically made their way back to Mr. Chiseled Jaw sitting alone at his table, being careful to not get caught by either him or Nathan.

After dinner, Nathan and I returned to the hotel. As we rode the elevator to our floor, I turned and looked at him. He had those sexy, sleepy, half-closed eyes from the wine, and his body was relaxed and at ease. Once on our floor, we arrived at my door first. He stopped as I slid my key card into the door. After it popped open, I turned to say good night, half wishing he would come inside and make love to me. He leaned forward and placed his lips on mine for a few seconds longer than normal. An electricity shot through my body with a force that made me realize exactly how long it had been since I’d had sex. He pulled away, saying good night, and turned to head for his room. I watched him saunter away to the next door. I went inside my room, shutting the door to prevent myself from doing anything to convince him to come back.

The room was dark, but the view was nice, with all the twinkly lights of Atlanta stretching out before me. Too nice to not be able to share. I began to pull off my clothes as I walked across the empty hotel room. It was too damn quiet. I noticed my iPod on the dresser, but that wasn’t exactly what I needed to fill up the sudden loneliness that crept over me.

I thought about the man from my dreams…literally. It wasn’t so odd that Nathan had mentioned him during dinner. Nathan loved to poke fun at what he perceived to be my more “out there” personality quirks. I really hadn’t seen that much of Dreamy lately. I mean, he was still there. Hell, it felt as if he’d always been with me, more so during the times when I was at my loneliest, but also around for the good times, showing up to check on me, I supposed.

My dream man began visiting me when I was about fourteen years old. As a teenager, I’d been a real loner. I’m pretty sure that at the time I knew he was just some type of romantic archetype I’d invented to keep myself from feeling so alone.

Over the years though, Dreamy continued to return to me at night, and our relationship grew—taking on many forms and going down many roads—sometimes more than once. That’s the beauty of having a man from your dreams as a boyfriend: do-overs. We met anew many times and many ways over the years…at spring breaks, at grocery stores, at bars, at gyms, at work. He always came on to me, and I always resisted, to differing degrees, before falling under his spell. We’d been married several times, gone on multiple honeymoons, and had multiple orgasms.

My dream man had several different occupations as a doctor, cowboy, fireman, veterinarian. He never had a name, though. I always called him honey, sweetie, babe, or love. We even had a kid for a while. Her name was Sarah, and she appeared much the same way Buffy’s sister, Dawn, did in season five of
Buffy the Vampire Slayer…
just there all of a sudden. She hung around awhile, but like a character in a David E. Kelley television show, she vanished at some point with no explanation—as if she’d never even existed.

While he didn’t visit my dreams every night, he always came back to me eventually, like a long-running TV series. He sometimes went on hiatus but never seemed to get canceled.

It was the man from my dreams who I’d always secretly believed it was my destiny to meet and spend the rest of my life with. Six months away from my thirtieth birthday, and I’d spent my entire adult life looking for him in every crowd.

When I was in high school, I thought maybe he’d be a foreign exchange student. I’ve always had a thing for accents. Maybe he’d be a substitute teacher, an extremely hot fantasy, if I do say so myself. In college, I thought possibly a dorm roommate or the person sitting next to me on the very first day of every class I’d ever taken.

While I always hoped and dreamed that he’d come into my life and turn it upside down and turn me inside out, I didn’t necessarily sit around waiting for it to happen. My mother always told me, “
Aden, don’t go putting all your eggs in one basket
.” So I didn’t. I’d always dated, and I’d even had a few long-term relationships. At least what’s considered long-term in gay years. It never bothered me too much when my relationships didn’t work out, because in the back of my mind I knew it wasn’t meant to be. The man in my dreams was out there somewhere…waiting.

“We’re here, idiot,” Finn said, shaking her head and taking the driver’s hand to help her out of the limo.

“Huh?” I asked.

Nathan smiled and leaned over, giving me a peck on the lips. “Come on, Aden, this is your night. Let’s go party, babe.”

I followed him out of the limo and onto the sidewalk in front of our fine-dining restaurant, Harlow’s. It was housed on the first floor of a renovated downtown building. The huge plate glass windows were one of my favorite things about the restaurant. I smiled, thinking about all the weddings, anniversaries, birthdays, and other special moments. Over the past few years, I’d had the opportunity to be a part of people’s lives in a small way. I wondered how many rotten days we’d turned into good ones. That had to be good for the karma. I really couldn’t think of a more rewarding way to spend my life.

Finn grabbed my hand, gave it a little squeeze. “Come on, babe, it’s time to soak up the love.”

Finn could be the reincarnation of Carole Lombard with her short blonde pixie hair and her voluptuous figure. In spite of her extraordinary looks, the kind of looks that so often provoke jealousy, she possessed a vulnerability that made it difficult for anyone to dislike her.

I squeezed her hand back as Nathan opened the door for us. I laughed to myself at the significance of the simple act. That was the kind of person Nathan was, always opening doors.

We walked into the restaurant and I looked around, reminiscing about the first time he and I had entered this space. The beautiful hardwood floors, the antique mahogany bar, the leather-and-damask-covered banquet, the marble-top tables with the intricate wrought iron table bases. We were both so excited. I’ll never forget the fear and exhilaration of that time. I remembered coming to the realization that we were now adults, even though it still felt like we were just kids playing restaurant.

The interior walls were painted in a soft, multicolored clay faux finish that contrasted beautifully with the worn exposed brick. The ceilings were sixteen feet high throughout the dining room and bar, but my favorite things about the space were the six large antique art nouveau hanging light fixtures.

“The man of the hour,” Nathan cheered, holding up a hand in my direction as everyone began clapping and yelling. I smiled, showing off every tooth in my mouth as I tried to act modest. The bar was filled with a few customers, ex-employees, our accountant, a few people from our bank, liquor and food distributors, and friends of mine, Nathan’s, and Finn’s.

When Nathan said he wanted to close the restaurant to have a going-away party for me, I told him it was silly and completely unnecessary, but standing there with all our friends and colleagues around me, I was really happy he did. It felt like getting a great big hug. Everyone should have a party like that at least once in their life. Well, I guess we all do; we’re just usually dead when it happens.

We made our way up the stairs and into the mob of people, smiling and shaking hands. My mind wandered back to Atlanta, and the one person who wasn’t there who really should’ve been. It was the morning after Nathan and I had almost slipped back into some old ways.

* * * * *

Opening my eyes, I rolled over in my bed onto my back. Lifting my arms over my head, I stretched until my body twitched and I let out a little moan. Sunlight filtered in through the window as I listened to whistling coming from down the hall outside my bedroom. I smiled and rolled back onto my side, grabbing up a wad of blankets and sheets, scrunching them up between my arms and legs.

He popped his head into the open doorway and smiled. “Good morning, beautiful.” He had a devious grin.

“Morning, babe.”

“I have a surprise for you,” he added with a wink.

“Do you, now?” I felt a toothy smile spread over my face.

“Yep.” He was still hiding behind the wall in the hallway. “But you’re gonna have to earn it.”

“Oh really.” I started to laugh.

“Mmm hmm.” He raised his eyebrows at me.

“What are you hiding out there?”

“Patience, beautiful…all in good time.”

I rolled onto my back and propped up my upper body with my elbows.

“In order to get your surprise, you have to do something for me.”

“Okay,” I said suspiciously.

“I want you to slide those blankets off so I can get a nice long look at you.”

Never breaking our gaze, I used my feet to slowly pull the blankets down my body, revealing the naked flesh underneath. “How do I know this surprise is worth my trouble?”

“Oh baby, it’s worth it. Mmmm,” he moaned as the blanket slid down my abs, revealing the head of my morning-wood cock. “Keep going.”

Continuously grabbing the blanket between my feet, it slid farther down over the shaft, clearing my hips, then past my balls and thighs. When I got the blanket to my knees, I lifted the remainder of my legs out from under the blanket and spread them, allowing each to fall in opposite directions, opening myself up, giving him a full view.

“You mean like this?” I asked innocently.

“Now it’s a good morning.” He disappeared behind the doorjamb.

He rounded the corner completely naked, holding a tray down, covering his privates. It was filled with pancakes, strawberries, orange juice, and bacon.

“No sausage?” I asked with a frown.

“Oh, I have plenty of sausage for you.” He climbed onto the bed on his knees and shimmied closer to me. He set the tray down next to me, moving his tight, ripped body over mine, and leaned down. He placed his lips over mine, gently sliding his tongue into my mouth.

I reached up, running my fingers over his firm, sculpted chest, lightly taunting his hard nipples. Pulling away, he sat up, straddling my thighs, then settled down so his balls pressed into mine. His semihard cock levitated just over mine, which was throbbing as it pressed into my stomach.

“Fuck, you’re hot, love,” I managed to get out while biting my lower lip.

That devilish smile returned, and he took a pancake off the tray. He picked up a small pitcher of syrup, lightly drizzling the pancake and rolling it up in one hand like a cigarette. He handed it to me. “That’s for you, sweets.”

I took it from him and smiled as I took a bite out of it.

He lifted the pitcher and drizzled its contents over my cock. I gasped as the warm syrup hit my skin.

“This is for me.” He shimmied down and took my cock into his hot mouth.

“Fuck,” I said as he took me all the way down into the back of his throat. I closed my eyes as a deep moan escaped from him, vibrating my dick as he worked his way up and down the shaft. I tried to concentrate on the sensation as a beeping started to go off somewhere in the distance. I took another bite of the pancake and, with a mouth full of food, mumbled, “It’s annoying…what is that noise?”

“I don’t hear anything,” he mumbled back, through a mouth full of my dick.

“How can you not hear that?” I asked, chewing the pancake as the pressure of his mouth on my cock got stronger. “It’s getting louder.”

“Ignore it,” he said, sucking harder, rolling his tongue over the head as he expertly worked his mouth up and down.

I began moaning and breathing harder, thrashing my head back and forth over the pillow.

“Baby!” I screamed out, opening my eyes as I sat up in the bed.

My torso was glistening with sweat as I looked around the hotel room, trying to get my bearings. I turned to the side, glancing at the travel alarm clock sitting on the nightstand.

“Son of a bitch!” I reached over to shut off the alarm. “Your timing sucks ass,” I added, shooting the clock a dirty look. I tossed the blanket off me and looked down at my hard-on. “Sorry, buddy…it was just a dream.”

I flung my legs over the side of the bed and lifted myself up. Mildly irritated that the morning sex with my nocturnal husband had been interrupted, I walked into the bathroom and opened the shower door. I reached in, turned the faucet on, and stumbled over to the toilet. As the water spilled down onto the shower floor, I did my little pee-pee dance, waiting for my erection to subside.

* * * * *

I stepped out of the hotel shower and heard my cell phone ringing. I grabbed a towel, ran out of the bathroom, naked and dripping wet, and picked up the phone.

“Good morning, sexy,” Finn said.

I met Finn when she came into the restaurant looking for a job. I hired her to wait tables, and while she was never what I would consider a great waitress in the technical sense, she had this way of bewitching people. She had these silent-movie-star eyes, large and full of whatever expression she chose to convey with them. Finn’s the only person I’d ever met who could communicate completely without ever opening her mouth. She also had this uncanny ability to assess an individual and know exactly what she could get away with. It said a lot about our friendship that I’d never actually asked her to move in with me. At some point she’d just spent the night and never left.

“Did you get any dick last night?”

Almost, I thought. “No,” I said, as if the suggestion was completely ridiculous. “I’m not down here to go whoring.”

“Two birds with one stone, baby. If you don’t stop ignoring little Aden, he’ll just rot right off your body.”

I laughed as I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder and began drying myself off. “Spare me, you little nymph. How’d it go last night?”

“Alas, I went home alone as well. My first night alone with you out of town, and I got nothing.”

“I meant with the restaurant, hoochie mama.” I ran the fluffy white towel over my stomach and down between my legs. “Me-itis.”

“Oh, it was fine, a good time was had by all, but you, you’re at a convention. You should be having hot, nasty sex with strangers; that’s the rule.”

“I must have missed that in the brochure.”

“Well, the next time I call, you better have some juicy details for me, damn it. The only fucking reason I agreed to work at the restaurant this week was so you’d go to Atlanta and get you a piece or two or three.”

I sat down on the bed, drying off my legs and feet. “You are so vulgar, you nasty girl.”

“Things worth doing are worth doing well.” She seemed to pause for a moment, as if waiting for a retort, and then added, “Well, Prudella, I better get off here and go to work, but for God’s sake, live a little, will ya?”

“I’ll try. I’m putting it on my list right now. Be a slut.”

“Bitch,” she said; then I heard the line go dead.

Needless to say, the thing I loved best about Finn was, if she’s your friend, she wouldn’t ever bullshit you. She’d tell it like it was without the fluff and soft-core approach that I seemed unable to do. If I asked her a question, I got an answer, whether it was what I wanted to hear or not.

* * * * *

I walked out of my hotel room and hesitated a moment, wondering if I should knock on Nathan’s door to see if he was up for breakfast. I then thought better of it since I was still feeling a little hinky about the night before. I went down to the lobby, made my way to the dining room, ordered a croissant and cup of yogurt to go, and walked across the street to the convention center. As I walked through the heavy glass doors, people were clustered about chattering like a bathroom full of teenage girls. I pulled out my brochure and ran my finger down the list of seminars until I came to the one titled
20 Ways to Get the Most From Your Service Staff
. It started in twenty minutes. I checked the room number, made my way up two floors, and walked down the corridor.

I peered into the empty room, made a quick scan of the seats, and did as I had always done in college. I went straight to the seat closest to the door. While I’m not completely sure why I always did it, I assumed it was due to some deep-seated fear that the room might erupt in flames and I’d be that person who’d knock over women and children to get to the door. I never could stand the thought of intentionally being mean or selfish. It had always been my thing. I couldn’t help myself. When people had described my personality to others, I heard one of two things: “He is the nicest person you will ever meet,” or “He is so nice it’s disgusting.” I’m terrified one day I’ll crack and release the serial killer that’s been lurking inside me somewhere.