Barfly

Barfly: Chapter Four

 
I woke in sea of lust and desire.  Luckily, I didn’t wake up with a hangover.  I think the giddiness from meeting Stellan had knocked out any alcohol from affecting me.  I glanced at the clock on my nightstand and didn’t curse it for reading eight-thirty.  I was excited to throw back the covers and get the day started.  A part of me begged for me to go back to sleep.  It was the part of me that often told me not to get my hopes up, to not expect anything extraordinary because if something mundane or ordinary happened, then I couldn’t be let down.  It was the safety mechanism my mind used.  It knew that I would over analyze and over think everything that had happened the night before.  It knew I would also analyze all potential paths that could be chosen.  None of the paths analyzed would be real, just what if scenarios in my head.  In a span of less than an hour, my mind knew I would have figured out the ending of my non-existence relationship with Stellan.
Sighing, I threw a pillow over my head and rolled over to ignore the clock.  I decided to give in and try to get another hour or two of sleep.  I could use it that’s for sure.  Within minutes, I had drifted off to dreams of getting hot and heavy with Stellan in the doorway of my apartment.  Sometimes the sex in my dream was better than the sex I had in real life.  I often tried not to compare the two, but sometimes, mind-blowing sex is really all in the mind.
My phone rudely awakened me from another stupendous sex dream.  “Hello,” I answered with my eyes closed.  I figured I might be able to squeeze myself back into my dream if I tried hard enough.
“Are you up?”
“No,” I answered, trying to register the voice on the other end.  I quickly opened my eyes, pulled the phone from my ear, and sighed with relief that the caller ID didn’t say Stellan’s name.  “How was your sleep and pondering?”
“I think I’m gay,” Roman said on the other end.
“Having sex with one man doesn’t make you gay.”
“But doesn’t having sex with a man make me gay?”
I pulled the covers over my head and curled down into my bed.  “No.  You were curious and tried something new.  Doesn’t mean you’re gay.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m straight either.”
“You’re straight until proven gay.”
“How do you go about proving someone is gay?”
“I take you out with all my real gay friends and I let them judge.”
“Real gay?”
Sighing, I pushed the covers off of me.  “You’re a pseudo gay right now.  You’re on the fence of if you liked having sex with a man or not.  By the way, what is said lover’s name?”
“Robert.”
“Do you have full on sex?”
“Full on sex?”
There wasn’t a nice way to ask Roman about this at all.  Luckily, he wasn’t an easy offender.  “Did you guys just blow each other or did you actually have anal sex?”
There was silence from Roman.  After a few moments, he sighed.  “He did all the work.”
“Oral or anal?”
“Both.”
I sat up in my bed.  “Really?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“He gave you a blow job and did the other?”
“Anal, you’ve been saying it for the last five minutes.  Why stop now?”
I collapsed back into my bed.  “So what was it like?”
“The oral part was mind blowing.”
“Literally.”
“Not going to lie but it was possibly the best head I’ve ever gotten.”
I stared at the ceiling.  “I suppose it would be since he knows what would make him happy, it seems appropriate that it would make you happy.”
“So you don’t think I’m gay?”
“Ro, I don’t care if you’re gay, straight, or into real doll sex.  I want you to be happy.  You got to find out what makes you happy.”
“This is one of the reasons I adore you.”
“It’s also because I tip you well.”
“That too.”  I heard him sigh and could feel his smile radiating through the phone.  He just wanted to know what he had done wasn’t the end all be all of our friendship.  “So will you really let your gay friends judge me?”
“Absolutely.  They’ll get you set on the right path.”
“I’m meeting him again tonight.”
“You are?”  I moved all the pillows into the center of the bed and propped myself up.  This was serious news for Roman.  “Did he call you?”
“I called him.”
This was definitely serious for him.  “And?”
“I told him I’d like to meet him not drunk or stoned.  We both had to meet sober.”
“What did he say?”
“He agreed.”
“Where are you meeting?”
“Not telling,” Roman answered.
“It’s not like I’m going to stalk you,” I replied in my defense knowing that I would have exactly done it.
“I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“I ran into Stellan again last night,” I answered.
“Where?”
“Bar.  He snuck back in without me seeing him and I was outside waiting for a cab when he walked out.”
“Was he there looking for you?”
Sighing, I ran a hand through my shoulder length hair.  “No.  He left his credit card there.”
“Or so he says.”
“You’re not good for me, do you know that?”
“I’m perfect for you.  I support all your neurotic thoughts and over analytical mind.”
“Which is why you’re not good for me.”
“So what happened next?”
I recounted the night’s events for him leaving out the desires of the groin of course.  “And then he said goodnight.”
“Has he called yet?”
“Only you call before ten.”
“True.  Do me a favor?”
“What?” I asked, staring at the wall in front of my bed and realizing I needed to paint somewhat fierce.
“Don’t sit around all day and wait for him to call.  I also don’t want you to sit and stare at the phone all day.  I want you to get out of bed and do something constructive.”
“Could I go back to sleep and try to finish my very explicit dream your phone call so rudely interrupted?”
“No. Get up. Do something. For me.”
“Why?”
“I know you better than anyone. We’re the best of friends even if we don’t admit it to each other.”
I sighed, knowing he was right.  He might not have been my best friend, but he was a friend I relied on.  “Do me a favor then?”
“Listening.”
“Let yourself be yourself.  Let yourself enjoy whatever you enjoy and don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“Deal.”
I smiled.  “Deal for me too.”
“Call you later this afternoon or after I see Robert.”
“Have fun.”
“Don’t wait around missy.”
“I won’t.”  I hung up my phone and stared at it.  Roman knew I was going to fret over the phone until Stellan called.  I was a chick, what else was I suppose to do?  I tried to throw up a façade of strength and being nonchalant but in reality, I was a thirteen-year-old girl with braces and bad acne.  Sighing, I put my phone on vibrate and got up.  I would uphold my end of the deal with Roman.  I would hide behind my façade with a smile even if it were a fake one.
This page copyright © 2009 Shelia Taylor
All rights reserved | This is an excerpt of the rough draft and not the final version

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