Dirty Story

Coffee. Two aspirins and a shower. But the headache is still here, comfortably settled between my temples. My head feels heavy so I crash on the couch, waiting for the mist to slowly dissipate. I am giving myself 20 minutes. Counting from … now! Jacob is going to be here and somehow I don’t want him to catch me like this. In hangover mornings, when I can’t think clear, I end up saying much more than I originally intended.



Because last nigh… Where did he go again? He never tells me where he goes. He just disappears for hours and all I can do to smother all the questions I can’t ask him is drink. Strong whisky to endure the waiting. There’s nothing feeling blanker than waiting. How much nothing can one take?



When I felt him slipping under the covers I wasn’t asleep. Even if I were, he was so cold, he would have startled me anyway. Christoph just huddled closer for warmth, like nothing happened. He pressed his cold and naked body to mine and it made me shiver. I didn’t want to turn to him – I didn’t want him to smell the alcohol in my breath. But he started kissing the back of my neck and rubbing himself on me, making me forget all the worries that I dared not name, all the worries that had maddened me before. Making me want him again, the want bigger than reason.



He wrapped his legs around me when I turned to face him. Even in the dim light, I could see his eyes shining brighter than ever. High on something. But I was so happy and grateful he was back in my bed that it didn’t matter. My baby was back and he was cold. And my blood was boiling lava.



I forget about the hangover as I remember feeling Christoph under me. Wanting me. Pressing his inner thighs to my sides to tell me he needed me deeper. The sweet taste of his mouth. The scent of feverish lust on his skin.



A ring.



“Good morning Dave. May I say you look like hell?”



“Nice to see you too, Jacob…”



He gives me a warm smile but I see that he’s looking around for something. Or someone.



I invite him in the living room and I am offering a cup of coffee. But he already had one.



I am nervous.



“What did you think of the poems? I am still working on some of them, but I wanted you to make an idea first.”



He laughs.



“Come on, Dave. Tell me. Who is he?”



Straight to the point. But somehow I think it’s kinda weird to talk to him about Christoph. But he seems OK about it. Is he?



“Tell me, is he more hansom than me? Like that could be possible…”



I am laughing, slightly embarrassed. I didn’t really expect this attack. But… maybe I should have. Jacob knows me too well.



“Hello.” Christoph enters the room, wearing nothing but a bathrobe. Jacob’s gaze pierces through him.



“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend?” Christoph stretches himself a little bit then he tries to look serious.



I am all flushed.



“Christoph – this is my friend and publisher, Jacob Lorenz. Jacob – this is Christoph.” Christoph my what? My lover, my pet, my favorite call boy?



“Nice to finally meet you, Christoph.” What does he mean?



“Can I get you a coffee or something?”



“I already had one, thank you.”



“Then I am going to make myself one. Dave?”



“Nothing for me, thanks.”



At least I don’t need to explain much more after this. Yes, this is him. Yes, he lives with me. Yes, he is at home here.



“You’re a lucky man, Dave. Where did you meet him?”



The hardest question of them all…



“I almost hit him with my car.”



“Always a romantic.” Jacob gives me a bitter smile. I am trying to decipher what is hidden behind his glasses. A cloud. Jealousy? Doubt? Pity? I will never know for sure.



“I am not gonna ask you if this is serious. I have read your poems. Which, by the way, impressed the hell out of me. I’m very glad you’re back, Dave!”



It’s the pain and not the love that makes me write. Pour this overflow into something... manageable. But as long as I feel…



“Well, it was about time I got back to work. My brain was slowly dying from lack of use…And even worse, my ass was getting fatter with doing nothing.” I laugh again. Why do I laugh? It wasn’t funny.



“Writing...Interesting exercise technique…”



And Christoph walks back in the room and sits on the couch, near me. He puts his arm around my shoulders, possessively. I should feel flattered, but I just feel stupid.



“I’d better get going. But Dave, I really loved the poems. Exceptional work! Your readers will be enchanted to discover this new side of you.” He gets up and straightens his jacket. I see him to the door, smiling guilty. It didn’t go well.



“We’ll talk all the boring bureaucratic details in my office, Dave. Come see me.”



I nod in agreement but he turns to look at Christoph. “Have you read his poems, Christoph?”



“No. But he did recite verses to me.” An icy smile.



“Good. It was nice meeting you.”



“See you.”



I promise Jacob to see him at his office. He just smiles and pats my shoulder. I am drowning in sadness. It didn’t go well. But things can be fixed. I hope. Jacob is my best friend and he understands me. I’m gonna explain everything to him. I’m gonna call him. Buy him flowers if necessary… Damn, this is so stupid!



Christoph’s arms around my waist wake me from my thoughts. His lips on the nape of my neck. I sigh.



“What is it, Christoph?”



He looks deep into my eyes, to reach my soul. And for the first time, he tells me.



“I just love you, baby…”





The End









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Author’s note: Sorry if you expected more. This is as close to a happy end as such a story can get. We can’t always finish with a big wedding... I wanted to give a bit of realism to the story. In real life, nothing is actually resolved. No clean closure. Just the familiar anxieties about our choices and the occasional happy moments. And I also wanted to keep Christoph’s mystery.

Thank you so much for the kind reviews.