Page 137 of Rhymes with Metaphor
“Sometimes,” said Reg.
Joel stared at Reg meaningfully.He did look alluringly dishevelled.While Martin’s eyes were hazel and changed colour with the light and what he was wearing, Joel’s eyes were solid and constant, the colour of hot cocoa.Joel smiled at him.
The sound of giggling and footsteps tumbling upstairs interrupted them.A moment later, the basement door flew open and several people toppled into the kitchen.
“Food!”
“There isn’t any,” said Reg.“It’s all been eaten.”
“Pizza!”said someone else.
“Nachos,” said someone else.He mimed pumping a shotgun.“Loaded.”
Several people clamoured approval.
As no one knew a restaurant that delivered nachos, a consensus was reached, fuelled by weed-induced hunger, that everyonemusthave loaded nachos, and they must all go to the nearby independent cinema/restaurant, called The Green Room, to have them.
Outside, the light from the streetlamps, trapped between snow-covered ground and pearl white cloud, rendered evening as bright as day.On their way to The Green Room, Raelynne scooped a handful of snow, packed it into a ball, and lobbed it at Joel.It hit him square in the chest and burst.Joel blinked, then a moment later, he bent to the sidewalk and returned fire.A snowball fight ensued, with shrieks and shouts.Reg stood apart, watching.For once, Joel was looking and acting his own age, and it reminded Reg of watching the orphaned foxes at the wildlife centre playing together, learning to socialize with other foxes.
Breathless with laughter and buzzed, they arrived at The Green Room, which felt as hot and humid as the tropics after the outside chill.Joel slid into the booth beside the wall, and Reg went in beside him.Raelynne slid in across from Joel.Someone else slid in beside her, and someone else slid in beside Reg so they were all tightly crammed together, and another table was pushed up against their booth.
The room was full of dazzling light and chatter in a thousand directions, and Joel took Reg’s hand under the table and placed it emphatically on the front of his jeans.
Some generous soul ordered a round of eggnog shots, which were duly delivered to the table.Joel downed his in an instant.
“Get hold of yourself,” said Reg.
“No, you,” said Joel, and he covered Reg’s hand with his own and pressed.
The nachos arrived, piled on a platter, and Raelynne snagged the top chip and crammed it all in her mouth.
While all this was happening, while they were packed in very tightly, Joel pressed against the wall with Reg pressed against him, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, his hand between Joel’s legs clasping him firmly, feeling Joel, hard and eager, and pulsing with energy.When Reg relaxed his hold, Joel pressed his hand over Reg’s, pinning it there.
He murmured in Reg’s ear, “Keep going.”
So Reg squeezed him.All the while, Raelynne flirted with Joel, leaning across the table, putting her hand over his, fingers playing across his wrist, and Joel surreptitiously pushed Reg’s hand aside, unzipped his jeans, and put Reg’s hand back.
Raelynne fed Joel a nacho dripping with cheese, and he fed one to her.
Joel kept leaning into Reg’s hand, goading Reg, and Reg stroked him under the table, coaxed him, Joel continuing to dare him, until it was a game of chicken to see how far Reg would go, and how long Joel could last.
Right to the finish, as it happened.The only thing betraying what happened was the tiniest hitch in Joel’s breathing, followed by a long exhale.Joel sat back in the booth, picked up his glass of water, and drained half of it.He set the glass on the table with a much-too-satisfied look on his face and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.Then he went right on talking to Raelynne.Reg pretended to be interested in the television screen over the bar while he zipped up Joel’s jeans.
Joel untucked his T-shirt casually and tugged it down as he slid out of the booth.They made their exit quickly and discreetly.
Outside, Reg, who could barely think straight, pulled Joel into an embrace.“No decorum, you.None.”
Joel laughed into his shoulder, pressed emphatically against Reg, reminding him.
“That was sodecadent, Reg...like...the train station.”
Reg kissed the side of his head.He smelled of sex, weed, and nutmeg.Reg felt something stirring just then, and he patted his pockets frantically.
“What?”said Joel.
“Poem.”
Joel fished a ballpoint pen from his pocket, because of course he had one on him.But no paper.
