Page 23 of Spiral
“I will say that your using ergo and to whit has my dick a little hard.”
I nearly choked on my bite of candy bar number four. The lights lowered, and then they flickered several times before going off. A moment or two passed with no preview trailers, the only lights in the theater from cellphones and emergency exit signs over the doors.
“Must be the power is out,” Jamie said in the dark.
“Do you want to leave or wait and see if it comes back on?” I asked as several people rose and made their way to the lobby. The film was an older one, a classic noir black and white from the forties that Jamie and I both loved. That was one thing we’d discovered about each other now we were talking and not rutting like wild stags. We both love the old detective flicks. Tonight, it was supposed to beThe Maltese Falconso, as you’d expect, the ticket holders were few and far between.
“I’m not in a rush to dash out into a deluge. Let’s just see what happens.”
So, we sat, talked, and waited with only the subtle light from the exit signs. “Tell me about your first crush,” he prompted, then plucked one popped kernel from the tub. He was such a fussy, tidy, sexy man.
“I was four, and I told my father I was going to marry this boy called Julian.” I wiped my buttery fingers on a wad of sticky napkins shoved between my thighs. “My parents weren’t surprised. I don’t recall saying much about Julian other than he had red hair and threw sand at Oscar the Biter.”
“Oh dear, a biter. Nothing worse,” Jamie replied with humor, then plucked another bite of popcorn from the tub. “Unless you’re talking about vampires, then a neck nibble is just fine. What do you think of the new vampire series?”
“Oh, the one with the big guy and the witches, and?—”
“Yeah.”
“Jeez, I think I’d be happy to be bitten by any of the men on that show,” I replied honestly before taking the final bite of candy bar five, a peanut and caramel delight. “Now, tell me about your first crush.”
“Mm, well, her name was Penelope. I was about five or so, and she lived next to us. I think it was more a case of my mum and her mum pushing us together as parents like to do. As if, at five, you want or even care about having a girlfriend or boyfriend. Quite silly all of it, and then there’s the assumption that a boy will automatically gravitate to a female. Yes, the chances are higher, but I do think that we need to stop pushing a heteronormative agenda on our children. Were your parents upset that you decided on young Julian as a future spouse?”
“Not really. Dad was incredibly accepting of the queer community. He has a cousin who’s a lesbian. And my mom tells me that she suspected I was queer way before Julian entered my life. Seems I lived forRuPaul’s Drag Race.”
“I do love drag queens. Did you ever paint your face?”
“All the time. Mom has pictures.”
“Mm, interesting. Would you ever consider a dash of eyeliner or some lipstick now?”
I paused in my chewing. He was quite intent on my reply. “If it was something to titillate a special lover, I might be willing to doll up a bit. How do you feel about men in corsets and stockings?”
“I think I look rather sexy in them.”
I choked on a kernel. He thumped my back. “We’d best get back on track. Where was I? Oh yes, Penelope. Our garden fences were slotted, and she would pass me biscuits through the slots and ask for a kiss in exchange.”
“Did she butter them?”
“The kisses?”
“What? I… no, the biscuits. They’re dry if you don’t have some butter or jelly on them.”
“No, oh gods, you Americans. A cookie. She passed me a cookie through the slot.”
“Oh, a cookie.” He reached over the tub to rub his fingers on the napkins held between my thighs. The back of his fingers slid over my leg. It was like grabbing hold of an electric fence if that fence was hooked on a direct line to your balls. One soft touch. Massive jolt of lust. I gasped and jerked, spilling some popcorn on the floor. “Damn, ticklish. Sorry. Cookies, right, cookies for kisses.”
Jamie sat there like a statue, his gaze locked on me as I stuttered on about trading cookies for kisses.
“We could have been doing that. Penelope was quite clever now that I think on it,” he said, his hand settling on my thigh.
“I don’t have any cookies,” I blurted then winced at my dumb reply. It was hard to think with all my blood now pooled in my groin. My dick throbbed. If the tub had been a few inches to the right, my cock would have knocked it to the floor.
“Popcorn for kisses.”
“Oh, yeah, popcorn for kisses. We should have been. That Penelope was quite the budding businesswoman. How many cookies did you swap?”
“About a dozen. Got a terrible stomach ache and a lecture about kissing people through the garden fence.” He moved his hand, thank God, and lifted a single kernel from the tub, his fingers glistening in the dim light. I watched, spellbound, as he placed it on his tongue and then pulled it into his mouth. The way he chewed was hot. “Now, since I got a treat, you get a kiss.”
