Making the Hook-Up (12 page)

“Yes, we put the deck in out back, some other things. These buildings are pretty sound, though. You may have to worry about the pipes; they can be kind of old, original plumbing, you know. But otherwise they're fine.”

And then it just slipped out. “The walls can be kind of thin, though…especially upstairs, in the bedrooms.”

I swear, I didn't mean to say it, I really didn't. It just slipped out. Lynn shot me a look like a tazer. Joe seemed oblivious, but Brian, I noticed, blushed slightly.
He must be the one getting banged out every night,
I thought.
Damn, a big guy like that… amazing. And despite his size, Joe had to be packing pretty good to be giving it to him like that too. Wow…

“Did you hear me, Roy?”

“Huh, what? I'm sorry.”

“I said I think we should let the guys leave.”

“Oh, oh, okay, sorry my mind must have been miles away somewhere. Let's get together sometime.”

“That would be great,” Brian said. “Maybe you can come over for dinner some night?”

“Let's do that,” Lynn said. “That would be lovely.”

We said our good-byes, and the two men left the porch and headed for their car. I was still wondering about the cryptic smile Brian gave me before they left when Lynn turned on me after we'd entered our house.

“You really couldn't resist saying something, could you?”

“I'm sorry, baby, it just slipped out. I didn't mean to.”

“Yeah, right.”

“And before you start in with the usual mess, let's get this straight right now—I am not no homophobic. I mean come on, you know how much I like your brother and Mark.”

“You like Mark because you all can talk sports together. You like to have someone to lose money with in the March Madness pool.”

“And what's wrong with that? And what do you mean lose; I made forty dollars last year, so there.”

“Still, you really shouldn't have said anything. It's embarrassing.”

“My saying something was embarrassing? What about listening to them going at it? Now that's embarrassing.” I paused for a second. “And another thing, since I know you're going to wind up their good girlfriend now, or whatever, but don't get any…ideas when you start talking to those guys, okay?”

“Ideas? What kinds of ideas”

“You know…I mean I…I don't want any…toys or anything in this house.”

“Toys?”

“Yeah, don't play dumb. You know what I mean. I know you've got your ‘little friend' over there in your bedside table for when Walsh sends me out of town for some meeting. That's cool. I just don't want…well.” My voice went down to a harsh whisper. “You're not going to be sticking nothing up in
me
; you know what I'm saying?”

Lynn rolled her eyes. “Negro, please! I don't know where you come up with these things sometimes. I really don't. Just because I'm friendly with the guys next door doesn't mean that I'm suddenly going to go out and buy a strap-on or something. You really need to stop being so paranoid.”

“Paranoid or not, I'm just sayin'.”

Lynn sighed. “Don't worry about it.” She reached around and grabbed me. “Your precious ass is safe with me.”

Later that night, through the walls, we could hear Brian and Joe moving around, talking, the thump of shoes as they got ready for bed. They giggled like schoolboys at some shared joke.

Lynn and I looked at each other. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking,” she asked, scratching me behind the ear.

“I hope so,” I said, grinning.

Lynn smiled. “Let's be clear now. This is not some kind of competition.”

I shook my head. “This isn't about competing; this is about holding up our end on behalf of heterosexuals everywhere. We can't let these gays think they can get the better of us when it comes to sex, that's all. I don't want to be responsible for some kind of, you know, ‘Fucking Gap' or something.”

Lynn giggled. “You are crazy, you know that? Just crazy.”

“Like you didn't know that when you married me.”

“Whatever… We need to move the bed. Won't work without the whole headboard-against-the-wall thing.”

“Really? 'Cause I was thinking maybe we could do it standing up, you know, leaning against…the…wall….” I stopped talking because Lynn was staring at me like I was crazy.

“We
who
up against the wall, kemosabe?”

I sighed. “Okay, we'll move the bed. You want to do it now, or move it later?”

“Yes.” Lynn's hands ran under my shirt, lightly brushing
the hair on my chest. She put an index finger into her mouth, wetting it suggestively, and then ran it around the areola of her own left nipple. “Do it now
and
move the bed later.”

I pulled Lynn to me, holding her tightly in my arms, and kissed her. Putting my mouth over my wife's ear, I whispered, “Let's show these young boys how to fuck.”

 

 

 

 

 

L
uckily, I've never been so much as five minutes late to a movie.

Hell, it's better to be an hour or two early I always say. Tonight I was tickled fucking pink I didn't have to stand in some long-ass line. I came around the corner to find that both box offices had lines that formed along Garfield's Bar and Grill, and damn near out of the double glass doors of the mall. I jetted past couples, teenagers and families of screaming babies, straight up to the boy tearing tickets. I had found an admissions ticket in my wallet folded between my tattered voter's registration card and two unpaid carbon-copy traffic citations that were so kindly given to me by Tallahassee's finest for running a red light and making an illegal U-turn.
Need to pay these fuckin' things
, I thought as I fished out my untorn ticket for
Constantine
.

“First theater to your left,” he said. This was one of the smaller theaters with pathetic sound and hard seats. Not like
the bigger theaters with THX sound and enough foot room to spread a sleeping bag in.

“Is this the only theater this movie's showing in?” I asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” he replied. I walked in to check if I needed to get a seat right away or if I had enough time to get something to eat. The place was sparse, but filling up fast. I had ten minutes to spare before the coming attractions. There were four people ahead of me: a heavy, big duke of a dude who looked as if he was ordering everything off the menu that hung above the refreshment stand. From popcorn to jumbo pretzels, this man's hands were full of movie food. The skater boy in front of him with ratty, bleached-blond dreads was growing impatient, and so was I. The previews are the best part. I looked at my watch to find that I had five minutes left. Fat-ass stuffed his change in his plus-size pants, grabbed his feast off the counter and started down the lobby.

Finally, damn,
I thought. Skater boy was up next. He ordered a strawberry slushee and a box of Jujyfruits, which I hate. I'm more of a Raisinette man myself. There were two young honeys going on about who's the finest, Usher or Ray J. Up in here looking like something right out of
King
magazine. Fine as hell too. They bought a box of Sour Patch Kids and switched them fine asses around the corner to their respective theater.

Before the concession operator could ask if she could help me, I blurted out, “Small popcorn, no butter!” I gave her four bucks and told her to keep the change. When I walked in, there were only a few seats left. Some people were holding spots for friends while you had evil bitches who would sit their pocketbooks in the seats next to them to keep people like me from asking if they were taken. I thought,
What is this, a movie theater or a school bus?
I didn't want to sit in the back only to be bothered by patrons still trying to squeeze into an already packed movie.
Didn't want to end my ass up in the front and risk suffering whiplash and burning eyes from sitting too close. I was going to wait until the next showing when I noticed a few empty seats in the middle row.

There were these two dudes sitting in the first two seats near the aisle. I think they were punks 'cause they were sitting way too close to be “boyz.” “Are those seats down there taken?” I said. I never thought I would be asking that shit. Not me, Mr. Johnny Come Fuckin' Early.

“No,” they said. I stepped over them saying excuse and pardon me. I took the last seat next to the wall. I hadn't yet made myself comfortable enough before the lights started to dim. Theater patrons were steadily rolling in, making their way down the aisle. As I munched on salty popcorn, this couple was standing at the edge of the row that the gay dudes and I shared. It was continuing to fill up except for two empty seats down by where I was sitting. I looked over and watched the shorty whisper something to one of them sitting on the end. I don't much like people I don't know sitting next to me. I usually have a female on my arm, but I decided to take a break from the shorties tonight. This female was fine though. It was so dark; I couldn't really see how she looked face-wise except for the thick mane of weave that draped along her back.

I staked my claim by securing my spot on the armrest. As they grew closer to my end of the row, she started to come in clearer. She was a brown-skin honey wearing a leather jacket stretched over a set of titties that were nice I'm sure. She had on one of them leather skirts that was hugging her junk tight. I didn't much care about her man. I was too busy watching this leather-clad honey dip. She sat her fine self next to me. The scent of leather was strong, mixing in with popcorn. I moved in closer to her to take a whiff of what that jacket was giving off. Just to
smell it made me feel fifty feet tall. The texture of the leather glowed in the glare from the Fanta commercial.

I sat the salty popcorn on the floor next to my feet and wiped my fingers on my jeans as the movie started. She began peeling off her jacket to get more comfortable. She worked them cute arms one at a time out of leathered sleeves. The intoxicating aroma filled my lungs.

Yep,
I thought.
Nice tits.

When she leaned over in my direction and whispered, “Would you mind at all if I lay this 'cross our laps?” I swear to god, I got a hard-on right then and there. The girl spoke country, a Georgia gal, a sweet peach right here in the sunshine state. Her breath was like watermelon bubble gum as she whispered them words in my ears I inherited from Granddaddy.

“No problem.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I just don't want to get it messed up.”

Her jacket covered us like an electric blanket. The heat beneath us was beginning to circle with my twitching dick misbehaving in the cotton tomb of my underwear. People were starting to simmer and settle with nothing but the sound of popcorn being crunched on and sodas being slurped. Things were quiet with just the sound of Keanu Reeves kicking demon ass in wide-screen mayhem. As the movie went on, the soft arm of this hot, black-haired beauty started grazing up against me. She pulled away each time she felt skin on skin, but a split second later her knee touched mine. I watched her from the corner of my eye not knowing whether these moves she was making were accidental or intentional. Even though I'm adamant about the armrest, I made an exception for her and moved over slightly, allowing her a bit of room to rest her arm, keep her from having to lull such a pretty limb in her lap. I watched her closely. She took in what I had to offer.

My palms started to sweat as the heat from the leather swirled beneath in our laps. The flesh of my elbow kissed the flesh of hers. She moved her arm steadily away; I veered in with a knee against her knee. She slid one of them long legs across the floor sticky with soda. This lady was hard to get, but I always get what I want. I'd missed the whole plot of the movie because of her, but who cared? I'd catch it again at Cinema Twin where the seats literally come loose from the floor, where you're lucky to catch the ending before the projectors falter.

I pulled one hand from beneath her jacket that smelled of perfume, and set it on the black hide. I only had my left hand now, using my pinkie finger to caress mahogany skin. I was scared as hell she'd turn and yell rape, break my bones with barbwire words. She smelled like angels oughta smell: the perfect woman, soft under the lap of leather. I moved with a steady pace across the bridge of her arm, careful not to get the attention of her man sitting next to her. One wrong move, if the jacket slipped, there'd be a reckoning. I moved my hand between her legs, gliding it up silken thighs. I watched her nervously, examining her reaction. Nothing except for the one going on in my jeans. This had never happened to me before. Not with any female. Her middle grew hotter to the touch as I stirred under the leather tent of her skirt, getting closer to her cunt.

I moved my right hand under the jacket to work my dick. The belt around my waist wasn't tight and I slid my hand past the waistband of my underwear, over rough pubic hair. My dick was stiff and sweaty. My other hand struggled with her stockings, tore easily through them to get to her, hoping that no one heard the rip but me and this angel. I pulled back panties and I was in. She was wet as fuck down there. Sloppy and Southern. The leather's scent steeped with sweat and perfume, making a toxic, musky mixture that worked itself through our skin, through a
lightening bolt of veins, a flood of hot blood.

My hand was caught in her web of silk and nylon. Fingers skimmed along supple pussy lips and a tough dick in a simultaneous dance of masturbation with only the black jacket to hide my nasty act. I glanced peripherally into her blouse. The glare from the screen bounced off her sugar-brown breasts. I wanted to reach down into the satin of sleeves and seams and cop a feel, my tongue exploring dark nipples. I noticed her left hand bracing against the armrest as I pushed deep within her cunt. Pearls of sweat trickled along my face and down my chin as I moved my two middle fingers in and out again. As I fingered her through, I steadily jacked off under her jacket, thinking of this dick in her stuff. It didn't take me long to come. I burned and tensed in my britches.