My Heart Goes Out To You

Chapter III: Jewel To Sparkle

“You’re a jewel to sparkle around my neck,
the fragrance in the morning I cannot forget…”
The Juliana Theory—Jewel to Sparkle
Who is your jewel to sparkle?
Do they hang around your neck?
Do they suffocate you when they do so…?
Cruel to be kind, isn’t it, my jewel?

~ ~ ~

Raindrops speckled from the sky—piranhas starving for the lot. Tory could already feel chaotic bites up his arm, setting the calm flesh afire. Cringing, he quickly pulled down his shirt sleeve cursing himself endlessly for wearing it.
Today was the day he would meet him. He wasn’t even sure who him really was. He’d mentioned his name once, hadn’t he? While Tory had recalled him mentioning his name many times. Tory could remember him say a lot of things.
Pitiful, really. Their confrontation on the decision for a book… the recipient to be very special, the thought of him in love… He wiped an imaginary strand of hair behind his ear. As if that could calm him, as if anything could calm him now.
The pathetic likes of an imbecile blessed with the arrival and presence of such a handsome stranger—everything about this retched façade impeccably fainted to wrong. Who would desire dating…conversing with the likes of him without an ulterior motive?
Obviously this man, Maxwell, was completely engrossed in some kind of comedy or anything mocking. To contemplate and conjure up a lie so great: he thought he was in love. The entire equation was set for disaster if he didn’t make his point clear soon.
Tory did not like men, he liked women. He was that of the heterosexual sex, the normal sex, the sex that was acceptable in our daily society. The straight sex that his father found only, and only sufficient.
Instantly, Tory stopped dead in his tracks at the distinction; what if his father discovered Maxwell? He flinched looking ahead expecting the nightmare to transfer into reality but found it so to no avail. Another perfect reason to end this joke with Maxwell…so he could return to the serious safe self he once was without anyone’s problems.
Tory stepped casually through the door; Romeo himself awaiting him at a cornered table. Softness cradled his entire being, dismissing these denying thoughts away. What he would give for just…
“You’re early.” The simple remark sent an arrow clear through his heart, the challenge was truly set and matched at his sex appeal. It was that, that had drawn him into him so much the last time they met. He had coolly manipulated himself into his book references…and his fantasies.
Despite, wherever he managed to play himself in, he had accomplished the primal task of making him lose track of time, a lethal mistake he vowed never to make again in any of their whereabouts. Brushing the thought away, he put a bright smile to greet his handsome date.
“Hi, Maxwell… I’m early?” Inwardly, he berated himself for such an idiotic question. He should have brought about the brass task of breaking their ‘relationship’ off. Already he was dragged into the cool persuasion of his lovely looks again.
“Yes, you are,” was his superior answer. “I was expecting you at nine, not at such a time. What, are you in school?” Maxwell intended for the question to be innocent, perhaps intimidating. Maybe then, he would deny he ever was in school despite his obvious youth, to impress him. How funny that would be.
But his plans of humiliation and naiveté were quickly washed up as Tory simply answered, “Yeah, I am.” The boy had no shame nor fear for embarrassment, clearly something degrading for a sadistic relationship. What, did he have no reflexes in his mind?
“I see,” he dismissed. What else could he say? This was alienated to him, to feel so…so awkward.
Bursts of hope and heartbreak gusted inside him. Maybe he had assumed his maturity and would drop him on the spot…or perhaps, drop him for another improvised explanation! Yet, he could not picture that happening with someone of Maxwell’s stature.
“What time do you plan to leave?” he asked coolly expecting a fumbled answer…only he received something different entirely.
“No time in particular,” he lied knowing the consequences. Had he lost himself with the simple gesture of his gaze?
“Really?” he smiled devilishly at the thought. They could head back to his lot apartment and fuck like rabbits…of course they would share some small talk first. He swore to ride him hard and fast for his petty amusement… in spite of whatever age differences they may have shared.
“W-What’s got you so happy?” he asked with fumbling fingers. Tory shyly shot him a questioning glance to stress his genuine curiosity… what was he thinking?
“Just seeing you, darling,” was Maxwell’s ginger reply.
Darling? Tory screamed in his thoughts. Since when had they gone from names to darling? He smiled concluding the natural answer; he had simply forgotten his name, there was no long term intention behind it!
“H-How sweet,” he commented feeling a slight flush.
“Come on,” Maxwell reached. “Why don’t we go for something to snack on?”
“My place? Y-Your place? I-I’m not hungry,” he stammered.
“My place? Y-Your place?” he mocked, “What have you been thinking about, Tory? Get your mind out of the gutter… it’s our first date.”
Compassion. There it was again. Another stab in his heart. His first date… he’d forgotten the entire topic under his constant scrutiny and what else? He’d used his name, so he hadn’t forgotten. He was truly serious… anxious of this relationship… And the tragic thing was that he was as well. Only to be able to never possess such a humane luxury.
“Gutter?” he inquired confused and slightly flustered. He’d done a fine job of screwing his chances so far, why stop then? Why stop at all when you’re faced with such a clear failing relationship? Why stop, Tory?
“Don’t tell me that all your schoolwork crushed your sense of humor,” he added mocking him again. “Maybe you can teach me some new…skills?”
Tory flushed at the sick comment. As if he’d ever…
“Anyway, I was talking about that café down the street,” he went on. “They have the most scrumptious desserts and if I must say, are highly sophisticated.”
“Maxwell…”
“You remembered my name? I thought you’d forget, how sweet…” Maxwell threw him an authentic smile, it had been ever so long since someone had the audacity to call his name on the street rather than his looks. Tory was highly special…as he had put it.
“S-Sweet? Thanks, but I can’t go with you… I don’t have any cash…”
“My treat, remember?” he smiled.
Innocently, his expressions and sly looks remained harmless, dormant to anything cute, perhaps? If only one could see the true colored beauty and tainted hate behind such an inexplicable façade, but deception had ran its spell and all Tory could see was white. White lights, white beauty, white lust—he did not even know its belonging, simply Maxwell had woven a snowy web around his heart, and his ‘heterosexual’ fantasies.
“Coming or not?” The question was that of a meager challenge Tory would not win. He would correlate, correspond; corr-whatever for Maxwell, never had a man been so sinfully demanding… nor woman.
A smile was his only answer as he trailed after him, engulfed warmly in his soft grip. Maybe this would not be so bad after all, then Tory caught a glance at his watch and realized the dire pain that could arise any second…

~ ~ ~

“You come here often?” Tory was fumbling for an answer let alone what to order; the menu had truly no class for those of the public! The highest price was that too large to pronounce and the lowest had been the same!
“No,” was all that managed to slip out. “Not really, I’ve never really…” He trailed off at a loss for words, everything to him sounded pathetic from his own mouth. How could he concentrate with the foremost handsomest being in front of you, questioning your every please?
“I see,” Maxwell replied nodding. He knew this mutt was nothing more than a simple stray—all the better in his seduction.
“Thought of anything you liked yet?” he asked leaning closer.
“N-No… how about you order for me?” Tory stammered.
His lips curled into a sensuous smile, sending Tory’s heart into a dive. “W-What?”
“How cute, a blushing schoolboy,” was his bitter reply. Maxwell inwardly scolded himself for such a drastic irrational move at his look of disappointment.
“But I’ve never had the pleasure of one so…sexy,” he covered.
At that moment, Tory felt he would faint of simply heat and revelation. Did that beauty just call him sexy or was he simply dreaming?
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said unintentionally. Heated pinches stung his cheeks evermore turning them crimson; did he say that out loud?
“Really?” For the first time, Maxwell had genuinely showed him some personal interest. He’d chuckled at the flushing beauty willing himself not to endlessly ravage him there, the cute shyness in his voice sent shivers down his spine. Sitting tight would be an ever so primal task if only his erection was not tickled by such shivers.
“So, do you come here often?” Abruptly, he recovered in the slight change of topic.
“No, this is my first time.”
“Really?”
“Why not?”
“Oh…”
Tory sat fiddling with his fingers under the table, feeling flustered at the awkward silence. This was exactly why he did not want to get involved in any relationship, man or woman. Although a girlfriend would have more to say, and that would more enjoyable, but who could argue with Maxwell?
Maxwell could not stand it any longer and decided to play even more innocent as his eyes roamed him.
“Ice cream,” Tory blurted out.
“What?”
“You just asked me what I wanted and I said, ice cream.”
He had? Even if he did not, a devilish plan had conjured up itself in his head as he looked at him. Losing track of the conversation was one thing but fulfilling it was entirely another.
“Oh, they don’t have any good ice cream here, let’s go somewhere else. Any place in mind?”
“Maxwell, there isn’t another ice cream shop here for at least a mile, we could just get some coffee or something.”
“I’ve got a car parked out front, let’s go.”
Tory nervously followed behind him yet again and flashing before him were images of naked eyes.
Cool heat locked inside a car of steamy windows, falling beneath shallow glass and other substances in the glove department. A car ride or a joy ride? he wondered.
His silent inquiry was hushed down as Maxwell intervened him on the darkened sidewalk. “Get in,” was all he said as he opened the passenger’s side.
A Porsche? A black Porsche? Parked on this street for people to admire and possibly mug? Maxwell was misunderstood, as he’d thought of him as simply a wealthy son of fathered money, but this money had no limitations to be fathered. That or he could’ve won the lottery a few days ago.
Tory smiled nervously as he stepped in awaiting his date to follow suit on the other side. This would be quite a night.