I loved you the most.

only bending when you break
- “Rhinosaur” (Cornell)


Ice clinks in our glasses and I study my drink, the droplets of condensation rolling off the sides and onto the wood of the bar.

Julian looks around us, scanning the crowd for any likely hopefuls.

“Why doesn’t anyone get bored on Wednesday and come out?”

“It’s Hump Day, isn’t it? Seems like people would be more apt to cruise.”

He makes a sound of derision and takes another swallow of his Stoli-with-a-twist. The vodka strikes me as astringent, unlike the woodsy smell of my bourbon.

“Ryan, someone’s staring at you,” he says to me, his voice barely audible above the normal din of conversation.

I look where his eyes are indicating and see a plain, if not entirely unattractive, brunette seated at the end of the bar. She doesn’t pretend that her gaze is anything but purposeful. I smile at her and her expression does not change. It’s serious, but covetous somehow. An unsmiling, wide-eyed desire. Though I can’t see him I know Julian is staring at her too, because she licks her lips. He has that effect on everyone.

“New toy?”

“I don’t know her.”

“Then she’s a new toy.”

“I dunno, maybe we should hold out for someone more aesthetically pleasing.”

“It’s after eleven, our prospects aren’t going to get any better, trust me.”

He’s hungry, a whine only I can hear deep in his voice.

I sigh, acquiescing. Julian makes his way over to her, glass in hand. She frowns at him, it seems she was expecting me. But a few charming words calm her down. They move to a nearby vacant table and I join them.

“Ryan, this is Sarah.” I take her hand, and it is clammy. She gives me a look of apology, and I notice she has lovely eyes. They’re probably her best feature. Her mouth is full, I can imagine it doing any number of things to my cock. But there’s something off-putting about the totality of her face, something not entirely feminine. Then it comes to me: she’s sizing us up just like we’re doing to her.

This is your lucky day, m’lady.

“So. . .do you guys always tag team?” she asks, with a smirk. A smartass, which makes my dick twitch. I’m perverse that way.

“Best friends,” Julian quips, his voice slightly fey. “We do everything together.”

“Then wouldn’t you find a third wheel. . .intrusive?” she inquires. She raises her eyebrows to ape curiosity, but I know, again, she’s just taunting.

“Three’s a magic number, so they say.” I can’t look her in the eye as I say this, and she’s a little impatient with my reticence.

“I don’t mind being the justification for a nice round of unrequited longing, but if you guys can’t get it up because you’re too busy mooning over each other I’m gonna be pissed.”

We both laugh, but me especially.

“Regardless of what Ryan will have you believe, I love women. Pussy is my religion.”

Julian has a way of saying the most ridiculous things in the most seductive way. It’s all in the tone, he tells me. He practices by reading aloud to me in the car on our way to work every morning. The metro section of the Los Angeles Times reinterpreted as high-end pornography.

Sarah then does something very odd. She turns to Julian and places her hand on his forearm. He smiles, brilliantly. His teeth are perfect.

“Julian, this is all a foregone conclusion, but do you mind if I talk to Ryan alone first?”

His smile crumbled, suddenly, and his eyes darted in my direction. I gave him a look that I hoped was saying it’s okay, I guess and he regained his composure.

“Sure. I’ll be outside, then.”

His departure was a little brusque. I wondered how he would make her pay for the slight. Even if she didn’t mean it that way.

“I know you two are planning to make me the beneficiary of a mercy fuck, but I don’t require your charity. If you’re really that desperate then I need to call the shots, understood?”

I stammer a reply that says absolutely nothing.

“I’m as hungry as you are, but women can deal with isolation better than men. That is our true advantage, you see.”

“What?”

“I like you,” she says, staring into my eyes. “You have an honesty about you that Julian does not.”

“Does ‘not as pretty’ equal ‘honest,’ then?”

My assessment is not merely the result of a bad self-image. Julian and I are both attractive, but opposites. He is handsome, almost pretty, slick and visually satisfying; and I am good-looking but not arresting. My eyes are wider, and washed-out blue, but Julian’s are darker, and his mouth is a masculine Cupid’s bow. My lips are thin, my ears are smaller, and my hair has a natural curl to it that threatens to render it unruly without the benefit of product. I have a stronger chin. We’ve spent countless hours analyzing our strengths and weaknesses, the ways in which we can appeal to as many women as possible. Julian can change his look easily - not shave for a few days, get his hair cut short and spike it – and he will still possess the same level of enticement. But I haven’t changed my look in years, I know what works. It seems Sarah does too, she knows her forceful manner will disarm even the most jaded predator and ensure she gets what she wants.

“It inspires trust where beauty does not. Does my austere appearance make you think I’d be grateful for any attention you gave me?”

I smile, slightly. She’s got me.

“I notice when you smile you don’t open your mouth. Why?”

“Smiling is not my specialty.”

She smiles at that, the same as I would. I’m getting a strange feeling like I’ve only been talking to myself all along.

“So what’s Julian like? As a lover, I mean.”

Even though this line of questioning has taken a turn for the bizarre, in the context of our conversation it seems perfectly logical.

“His bedroom is mirrored. And when I say ‘mirrored’ I mean completely. Even his headboard.”

“A shrine to himself.”

“Yes. We both like to watch, but what he likes to watch is himself. Though I guess he likes to watch sex being practiced too. By me. He trained himself to balance on his hands so he can establish the best position to watch himself come when he’s on top.”

“I bet he watches you. The woman is completely superfluous.”

“You’re probably right. But I’ve never heard anyone say he was a lousy lay.”

“Womanizers and psychotics are the best sex partners.”

“But not the best lovers?”

“Love thyself and practice agape with everyone else. But how can you be truly selfless if you love yourself, I’ve always wondered.”

Her observation is a test. I imagine she has this kind of odd, metaphysical dialogue with everyone as a litmus test, just to see how much weirdness a person can take. There are those of us who strive not to impress people, and when we collide, it becomes a pissing contest.

“If you don’t like being objectified, then why are you here?”

“The hunger. You know what I mean. The itch to put your cock in someone’s cunt. The slap your body makes when you’re fucking someone hard. Being breathless after an intense orgasm.”

I’m completely aroused now, and the crotch of my jeans strains in protest. She toasts me with her glass and we finish our drinks. She had something sweet and milky, and I lean over and kiss her. The taste is indefinable but her breath is warm and her teeth drag across my lower lip. I suppress an urge to growl in response.

“Let’s go fuck, bright boy.” A command.

Julian is talking to some blonde when we come outside to claim him. He shrugs at her helplessly as we lead him away. Sarah sticks her tongue out and grabs Julian’s crotch.

“Well, am I good enough after all?” he asks, mock petulant.

“Good enough to eat.”

I can tell she’s aroused by the thought of fucking someone so pretty. Julian makes himself sexually available to everyone, or at least gives them the illusion that he is obtainable.

“I want to see your Hall of Mirrors, Julian,” she says. He looks surprised, and I shrug, putting my arms around Sarah.

“She tortured me, made me tell all my secrets.”

“Uh huh.” He’s skeptical, but I do feel the ouroboros of desire slithering upwards. I want the type of sex all men want: unrestrained and gluttonous. I’m curious to learn what her terms are.

She’s unconcerned about leaving her car in the parking lot, and we live within walking distance of the bar, so we amble up the hill. That is one thing which discourages perambulation in Studio City: so much of the residential area is wedged into the sides of the foothills of Laurel Canyon. Sarah is wearing sensible shoes, however, and does not complain.

The house we rent is upon the upward curve of the third street from our starting point. It’s one of those Spanish-style cottages with white-washed plastered walls and a red-tiled roof. Bougainvillea spills down the sides, fuchsia splashes.

“How pretty,” she says.

“Where do you live?” I ask.

“Closer to Universal City,” she answers.

I wonder who she is, what she does, but I also understand that our encounter does not involve any concerns of the mundane world.

Inside, she pauses to admire the wood flooring and wrought-iron railings. Our general furnishings leave something to be desired, simply because we have chosen to conduct a very specific type of socializing here. Everything else is relegated to public places. I make coffee in the kitchen, leaving the initial gambit to Julian, though I imagine Sarah needs no loosening of her inhibitions. Indeed, when I find them on the dirty tan sectional in our living room, she’s sucking him off. He gives me the same smile he gives everyone.

“Coffee, anyone?” I ask, as I feel a wry goofy grin stretch my face.

Sarah stands up, putting her hand around Julian’s cock and pulling him likewise to a standing position.

“Fucking now, coffee later,” she proclaims.

He guides her towards his bedroom, hands on her shoulders, trying to keep his balance as he crabwalks. I think he might be disappointed that there was no reluctance to overcome. Though in my mind I tend to categorize Julian’s efforts as eroticized bullying, as opposed to actual seduction.


I watch them, at first. I sit naked in an overstuffed chair, one leg thrown over the side, stroking my penis almost absent-mindedly. She undresses herself and then him, carefully. She knows his clothes are expensive. Then, she pushes him down on the bed and starts from the bottom, running her nails lightly over his skin. Julian makes little cooing and purring noises, he knows women truly love when men express themselves in that fashion. Men don’t like to make noise, but women are aroused aurally the same as we are. He encourages her, whispering in a breathy sort of way, that tone again working on her like I imagine chocolate does on the central nervous system of most females.

Put your hands everywhere, Sarah. Just like that. . .oh yes.

She has spread his legs apart and her nails move all the way down to his ankles. He squirms.

Ah. . .oh baby. Don’t forget to scratch my ass.

She does, and he makes a sort of squeaking noise. My cock stiffens exponentially in my hand. I can see his face, and he doesn’t appear to be faking for her benefit. Then again, she’s got skills, understanding that men require as much teasing as women. She blows on his scrotum and he grabs her hair. Not to draw her head any closer to his groin, simply as a response to the stimulus. She pulls him up and tilts her head back, indicating she desires more of the same. He cradles her scalp with his hands and pulls at the roots. She arches upwards and buries her nails in his shoulders.

Harder.

He pulls, his mouth agape with a certain pleasurable cruelty. With each pull he winds her hair around his hands tighter, taking up more of it. Her moans are animalistic, deep and guttural. Finally, Julian is too aroused by this and pushes her down, entering her, pinning her to the mattress. After a few trusts she pushes him over and sits, bringing her knees up. He laughs.

Sarah needs to run the show. He mocks. She looks at me as she grinds his groin.

Yeah, she’s very forceful. I’m so hard it hurts, but I like merely stroking myself, my gaze held to hers like a magnet.

Fuck me, Sarah.

Julian sounds almost desperate, on the edge of something he’s never felt before. I want to tempt her equally.

Fuck me, Sarah.

I attempt my best sexy manner as I touch myself. Our voices merge into one testosterone-laden growl.

Fuck me, Sarah.

We’re practically yelling our mantra now, and she holds her hands out towards me, beckoning me to join her. I do and she pulls me behind her, leaning forward far enough so that I can slide my cock up her ass. I do so and put my arms around her torso, my hands reaching for her breasts, my mouth moving against her neck and her ear. She looks down at Julian and so do I, at that moment, a wall of musculature separating what she imagines to be our ideal union. And perhaps it is. He climaxes, spectacularly. I can feel the spurting and we watch him spasm beneath us, exclaiming his pleasure with a series of loud moans. At the last, he murmurs my name, and Sarah looks over her shoulder at me.

“That’s the way it should be,” she whispers, then smiles.

Yes is all I can think to say.


It only occurs to me later that she did not have an orgasm.


We leave Julian, exhausted, on the bed. In the bathroom, I ask her to hold my cock while I piss. I’m cognizant enough to wipe the shit from it first, but reluctant. When it’s Sarah’s turn, I kneel before her and kiss her as she’s urinating, suppressing a unusual urge to put my hand in the stream. We walk into the kitchen.

“Coffee now,” she says, and she’s touching me, moving her hands over my chest.

I am consumed by a type of lust I don’t think I’ve ever felt. My fingers seek her anus and stroke it, reverently.

“You’ll have to wash your hands first,” a murmur between kisses.

“I want you now. I’m ready for you.”

She steps back and looks at me, erection protruding.

“Just me?”

“Yes.” The question puzzles me slightly, but then I realize how symbiotic Julian and I must seem to her. “However you want, whatever you want.”

“If I’ll let you fuck me in the ass again.”

I almost protest that the previous excursion was not really fucking, but neither am I obsessed simply with that position.

“No. We don’t have to do that.”

“But you liked it.”

Yes.


I have penetrated her where he has not.


Our sex is slow. I take Sarah from behind and go as deeply as I can, ever so slowly. Moving back, I pull out and rub the glans against her labia. It is swollen and sticky and her sounds are so primordial as to seemingly be pre-speech, the sound of discovery. When I slide back inside, each time, it seems hotter and wetter than the last. We are equally impatient for bliss and yet completely fulfilled by the agony of our pacing.

You’re not good enough for me. I’m taking pity on you.

Her dialogue would anger a lesser man, I imagine. Wound Julian’s brittle pride, for example.

And your pity is so sweet. Your compassion is what I’ve waited for all my life.

She chuckles, between moans.

I pity you because you can’t have him. You love him, but only I can possess him.

And this is the crux of her seduction – someone to express your weakness in a way that absolves it of shame. Merely voicing that it is. Taking pleasure in the admission.

Yes, I’m jealous. Ever so jealous. But you’ll tell me what it’s like, won’t you? You’ll gloat and boast. You’ll rub my face in your superiority.

Her vaginal muscles clench me tightly. I moan suddenly and nearly lose my balance.

You’ll tell him you want to watch every moment. We will perform for you. He will agree to this, coveting your pleasure more than craving his own.

The fluttering of her walls around me, and I am hard-wired for orgasm. I climax like I’ve never climaxed before. My balls ache, every muscle in my body tenses. But the clench I am so used to, milking me for my emissions, does not take place.


We take a shower this time, and I kiss Sarah over and over as I soap her body. This may be the last time we’re alone, though I cannot fathom which drives my desire further: her own wiles or the thought of her scheming realized.


We are all in bed together, Julian licking her clean skin. I lay on my side, my gaze devours his attentions.

It’s your turn to run the show, Julian. But Ryan wants to know what it’s like to fuck you. Show him.

He glances at me, confused. I smile, and gesture towards Sarah.

She thinks I’m not as good as you.

He smiles, then, all arrogance returned. In full libidinous conquest, they fuck and I watch. She ridicules me and he laughs, and fucks her harder, faster, better. We’re all getting what we want, I suppose, and isn’t that what it’s all about?


They are ever shameless with their affections, deliberately excluding me even as I am right there, always, watching. She feeds his ego to the point where he, one night, professes actual love. And she makes him look at me when he says it.


Sometime before dawn, I finally make her come.

Oh Julian.

His name passes our lips and he sleeps on, secure in the strength of our obsession.