and I was like, whatever, and made a comment about the two suitcases she had in the trunk for a three-day weekend. There was going to be nowhere for Tommy to put his shit, let alone sit, in the back of her tiny convertible. She told me not to worry and then looked at me and could tell I had something to tell her.
“Spill,” she said as she pulled out into the traffic.
So I told her why I was really late and she rolled her eyes and told me I was a little fucker. Pretending to be hurt I was like, “You think it’s little?”
“Fuck off,” she said with an amused smile. “I can’t believe you kept me waiting downstairs so that you could get some tail. For God’s sake, don’t you ever get enough?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, pausing for a minute, “but I mean, what’s really enough?” She didn’t answer and I continued with, “You know when opportunity knocks—”
“Oh please.”
“Sorry,” I said.
So after like two minutes of silence during which I feared she might really be pissed, she told me that she talked to Zoe this morning who told her that Liza was going to be at reunion. Liza and her whole saga I’ll get to later, but Zoe is a whole other bag of problems. Lizzie and I were both friends with Zoe in college but Lizzie has a much higher tolerance for overly high-maintenance people and so she’s kept in touch with her much better through the years than I have. I hear from Zoe like every few months and usually can only talk to her if I’m medicated. Our conversations are usually about her and when I’ll get the pleasure of seeing her, and sometimes I totally zone out and watch porn on the computer while she babbles on.
But Lizzie says I’m too hard on her, that’s she not that bad. And other than a few phone calls a year and a dinner or two I don’t really have much interaction with her so it’s fine. But like a year and a half ago, a few months after I started the blog, I was dating impossibly beautiful Reese. He’s the one I thought was a total asshole when I first met him but then subsequently fell for. And one night, while I was waiting for Reese to pick me up, Zoe called and told me that he’s her cousin. They had seen each other at some family affair and somehow I came up and she felt she needed to call and warn me about him. She told me that while he was handsome and suave and all that, he was a user and an asshole and that I should be wary. I cut her off and ignored her advice.
Well wouldn’t you know, a few months after that, I was sitting at Lizzie’s, and Zoe was there, and I was lamenting about what an asshole Reese turned out to be. He totally treated me like shit for far too long—and I let him—and then toward the end he up and disappeared on me. When I called him on it he basically acted like I was nuts to have developed such strong feelings for him. “It was never that major,” was basically what he told me and I was humiliated and disappointed. But to her credit Zoe did not say she told me so. Instead she acted sad for me, concurred that he can be an asshole, and then got around to telling us about her boyfriend troubles. She always has boyfriend troubles.
So back to the car. I asked Lizzie if Todd was going to be there. Todd is Zoe’s ex who caused her all sorts of problems and drove her to a self-imposed exile in her extraordinarily over-made-up bed (she’s way into fancy linens) for about two weeks. This was just a year after college, when we were closer, and I’ve still never heard a story so fucked up as what she got into after that.
Lizzie pulled over and double-parked in front of Tommy’s and called him to come downstairs. Two minutes later he came out of the front of his building and she looked at me and was like, “Imagine that: someone being ready when they’re supposed to be, someone equally as afflicted with dick addiction too. I guess there are miracles in the world.”
“Point taken,” I said, hoping this last exchange would put the issue to bed.
So after some extensive finagling and maneuvering we got all of our collective shit, and Tommy, into the car. Lizzie pulled away from the curb and Tommy said, “Why were you late?”
Perfect, I thought.
Lizzie just looked at me and smirked and turned up the music. “Tell him,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll have to live through the details at some point this weekend; might as well get them over with now.”
So I told Tommy the story, the abridged version, but with a few couldn’t-leave-out details thrown in, like the sneakers, and I started to get horny again. It was like I was writing it for my blog; I so often get horny reliving the situations and then have to beat off afterward. So I adjusted my cock and tried to finish the story quickly.
As soon as I did, Tommy wanted to go tit for tat and tell us about his experience with The Grifters. Not the old movie—these two guys he met at The Cock, a popular New York City bar we hang out in sometimes. I had heard a very brief synopsis but I was at work at the time and never got a chance to catch the whole story.
Before he could start Lizzie was like, “Can we just pause on the gay sex for like a minute?”
“Why would we do that?” Tommy asked, totally seriously.
“Because there are other things in life.”
“Like what?”
“We never talk about pussy, for example.”
“And why would we talk about that?” Tommy asked. Then mischievously he added, “Did you get some?”
For whatever reason Tommy and I always talk about sex. I mean, we talk about other stuff too, but I think that we talk more about sex than about anything else. So it was no surprise when Lizzie started groaning that she’d had enough gay sex talk after my detail of The Rich Kid afternoon. I can understand why Lizzie thought the conversation was getting a little gay-sex heavy, but I wanted the details. And I knew, despite her feeble protests, that she did too.
She laughed, said no, called Tommy an asshole, and then asked why we never want to hear about her adventures. “I could start a blog too,” she said. “The Great Cunt Hunt, I could call it. It could be about all the men yearning for a shot at my pussy.”
Tommy yawned elaborately and then was like, “I’m sure Alex would read it. He’s all about the straight guys. Me, I snooze during the snatch talk.”
“You’re such a fag,” Lizzie said. Then, resigned, like the martyr she loves to pretend to be, she said, “Go ahead. Tell us about The Grifters.”
All excited, Tommy jumped forward in the backseat so his head was between ours and he told us how he was minding his own business, having a drink and checking out the dudes at the club, when this cute, tall guy on the skinny side came up to him and offered to buy him a drink. The drink Tommy was already holding was full so he looked at it and told the guy sure, if he wanted to wait around for a few minutes. He was telling us the story like he couldn’t have cared less, but knowing him, I’m sure he turned on the flirt big time when he delivered the “want to wait around” line.
The guy waited around. He told Tommy his name was David and he had a firm, hard handshake that turned Tommy on. They bullshitted for a little about what they did and where they lived and where they liked to hang out and all that crap and then the guy moved pretty quickly onto sex. It was already close to midnight so Tommy figured that the guy wanted to lock up his chances or move on. Tommy was into his program and was thinking he’d let himself be “locked up,” so to speak.
The guy asked Tommy if he got into anything wild, which is kind of like asking the Pope if he prays. Tommy asked him to define wild
