Page 67 of Totally Wrecked
“Worth ever fucking sting,” Gray laughs. I like to hear him laugh. He doesn’t seem to do so very often.
I pull myself onto the ledge as well and lay on my back, watching the steam rise up in lazy swirls.
I’d gone to a bathhouse once, when I was on a shoot in Italy. Lots of dark-eyed men with swirls of chest hair and grabby hands. I’d never gone again. Sometimes, I thought I wasn’t truly pansexual. My attraction to men was limited; mostly it was women who did it for me.
Most recently, Daisy.
It’s confusing, because here I am, still thinking about her all the time, but also, I’m here with Gray, and…shite, I don’t know.
Gray's wet hair gleams a dark gold. I can’t see it, but I imagine a puff of golden fuzz around his dick. I’m not into that whole waxed and shaved shit. I imagine Daisy’s little fuzzy pussy banging down on Gray’s dick and my brain starts to short circuit. I slide off the ledge and back into the water, giving a groan when the heat hits my hard on.
“You OK?” Gray asks.
“Never better,” I croak. I see Gray sit up and fumble around. He then leans over and puts something in the water. A halved coconut shell floats towards me.
“Good idea.” Warm slippery coconut oil.
Shite.
I tried giving Stevie a warm oil massage while she was pregnant. I’d been reading up and watching videos on how to be a good partner. Even though Stevie and I had only been hooking up kind of casually, when she told me she was pregnant and she was going to keep the baby, our baby, I got totally onboard.
Saturday morning Lamaze classes, setting up a registry, endless foot-rubs. She was holding off on us getting an apartment together though.
“Let’s just wait and see.”
I told Maurie to only book me for jobs that kept me close to home.
Stevie was weird about that. “It’s fine, just go do a couple of weeks in Toronto. I don’t mind.”
I did mind. I wanted to be there when my child was born. Stevie was also vague about her due date. And she wouldn’t let me go to any of her doctor or midwife appointments—I should have been suspicious.
“Don’t crowd me, jeez Killian,” she’d snap.
Finally, I took the Toronto job. It was good money, and if I was going to take time off to help after the baby was born, I needed as much in the bank as possible.
To say I was a little surprised to arrive back from the film shoot and find out Stevie had already had the baby, by pre-arranged cesarean section, and that I was not the father after all, was, yeah.
Surprised doesn’t really cut it. When we met up in Central Park, she’d given me back the key to my apartment, and hurried off back to baby Timothee (for feck's sake) and Brett.
I’d wandered over to Metropolitan and taken a turn around an Italian Renaissance exhibition. The only painter I’d really heard of was da Vinci. I looked at his drawings of helicopters and wished he’d zoom down and take me far away from everything.
I didn’t mind losing Stevie, she was never really mine in the first place. But I did mind losing the idea of my child. I’d liked the idea of fatherhood.
Maybe one day.
“Here,” says Gray, floating another piece of coconut shell towards me. The meat has softened, but doesn’t start turning to oil until some water gets splashed into it. We both eat and I watch the grease run down Gray’s chin. My attraction to him pulls me like a magnet, I don’t even notice that I’m edging closer.
Put your fecking horn away, Killian!
I let out a sigh, get back into the water and swim until I can get out on the far side of the pool. To distract myself, I stand and walk further along the rocks. My cock has barely subsided at all. I can feel Gray’s eyes on me. On my ass—that doesn’t help matters.
Then, out of nowhere, Gray says, “Are you gay?”
Huh.
I hide the smile in my voice to give him an answer. “I’m not gay, but I’m not straight either.”
“Bi-sexual.”
