Legal Note From The Sarcasm Department
Do not read this story if:
You are not over 18 years old (or the legal age where you live). Reading this story will land you in jail (unless you're into that type of thing). You don't want to read about men touching other men in somewhat inappropriate places. You think that boys have cooties. You are prone to masturbatory spraining.
This story is completely fictional. It is not meant to represent or reproduce any person or situation. If this seems to mirror your life in any way, you're a lucky bastard. This story is about two guys heading to the same place from different directions, and the odd meanderings they take on the way.
Enjoy!
Another Rainy Monday... ====================
I've always loved the rain. Most people do their best to stay as far away from it as possible, but to me the rain has always been something that lifts my mood. I'm not sure if it's the sound of the rain plowing into solid objects or the sheer joy of running around like an idiot while willfully jeopardizing my continued health that made me love the rain... perhaps it's something deep and mysterious that I'll never be able to figure out.
The rain out today wasn't normal rain, it was fuck-you-and-the-horse- you-rode-in-on rain. I love the rain and all, but driving across a narrow bridge in a torrential downpour pretty much ruins any wakeup buzz one might have had. The only positive thing about the rain was that I made it to work in record time once I had managed to avoid several near-accidents and one grumpy police officer. To cap my morning off, my nemesis the rain had decided to rob me of the opportunity to space out while looking through my office window by slowing to a dismal drizzle falling gently on everything. Fighting my urge to punch random inanimate objects, I trudged through the parking lot of the shopping center across the street from my work to get a cup of coffee.
Luckily for me (or perhaps for everyone else) there was no one in line to feel my righteous wrath. I stumped up to the cash registers, perfectly willing to bark out my order, pay for my drink, and get the hell out of there. Maybe hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but I was doing my damnedest to perfect my imitation. Thinking back, I'm pretty sure that there was a vast conspiracy on the part of Cupid and Mother Nature to make me look like a jackass.
"What can I get you?"
Five simple words. Five relatively meaningless were all it took to make me catch my breath and to set my blood on fire. Well, 5 words and one amazingly gorgeous man with flaming red hair, tons of freckles and pale grey eyes with a mischievous glint in them. Most vexing was the fact that he just stood there with a smile on his face without saying anything. Summoning the depths of my composure and eloquence, I decided to forgo my anger and continue our conversation with a bit of witty repartee and a charming smile.
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...."
OK, so that didn't work out that well. Time for plan 2.
"Uhh..."
Holy shit, he's hot!
"Yeah..."
Patience Terryn, you can get through this without making an ass out of yourself. Just keep your foot out of your mouth and we'll make it through this.
"Can I get a venti raspberry mocha?"
Am I always this retarded?
I was all thumbs as I fumbled for my wallet. Granted, the tenting in my jeans wasn't helping matters much either. Noticing that I was out of cash, I fished my credit card out and handed it over. Somehow in the span of less than 5 minutes I had gone from an irritated grump to a clumsy schoolgirl with an apparent speech impediment, all over a mysterious guy I'd just met. He took my card and slid it through the reader, then asked to see my ID. I flipped open my wallet, grateful for an excuse to tear my attention away from him. Of course, my smooth moves caused my wallet to go flying right out of my hands and over the counter. By then, every nerve in my body was screaming at me to leave as fast as humanly possible and never look back. I began making plans to pack up everything I owned in order to flee the country and avoid any chance of ever seeing this man again. I sighed loudly and smacked my forehead in embarrassment. Even through my mortification, though, I did manage to sneak a peek at how gorgeous his ass looked as he bent over to retrieve my wallet. It didn't really meet the qualifications of a bubble butt, but in that moment I became very jealous of the khaki pants that got to caress it so intimately.
I tore myself away from staring at him as he stood up and turned around. Handing me my wallet and credit card, he started laughing gently. With one swift motion, he hiked one leg up on the counter and grabbed the front of my shirt with his right hand. His left hand slid gently along the side of my face as he pulled our heads together. Our lips met gently, sliding past each other like gentle butterflies time and time again. He ran his tongue along my lips and it was like an earthquake passed through my body. I moaned softly and reached my hands out to...
... grab the credit card receipt and pen that he was offering.
Chalk up one win for my autopilot system! All I could do is pray that everything had stayed in my head while my brain was off in fantasy land. While I wasn't 100% sure, I had a pretty strong suspicion that most coffee establishments frown on customers making kissy faces at their employees. Unsure as to whether he was chuckling at my spaced-out behavior or some unintentional acting out of my fantasy, I signed the charge receipt, stuffed my wallet back into my pocket and moved over to the end of the counter as quickly as possible.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't tear my eyes off of him for more than a few seconds. As I watched him make my coffee, I wondered how many people had done the same in the past. Wondered how many people lusted over the way that the hanging strings of his apron formed an enticing V just below his ass... wondered how many people noticed the tiny tuft of dark red hair that peeked above the unbuttoned collar of his polo shirt... wondered if he knew how sexy the thick silver rings he wore on his index fingers were ... wondered if anyone ever watched the tiny red hairs on his arm as they swayed with his every movement... wondered if I'd left the iron on... wondered if I was crazy.
"Terryn? You're all set!"
If I hadn't been tongue tied already, the sound of my name coming from those luscious lips would have done it. Normally, I hated having an odd name, but hearing him say it just seemed so... right.
"Thanks... uhh... dude..."
I snatched my coffee from the counter and went to get a stir stick. On the condiment bar was a small sign that said "Your server is..." and had the name Erik Kelly written below in charcoal pencil. Next to the name was a Polaroid of Erik standing behind the counter, running a hand through that red hair and with the same wonderful smile on his face. With that piece of "stolen" knowledge and one last look at the gorgeous Erik, I turned to leave the store in a much better mood than when I had entered.
I held the door open as a woman and her adorable little girl came hustling in to get out of the weather. The little girl bounced around the store and ran toward the candy display in front of the counter. Just before the door closed, I heard her shriek "Daddy!!" and I swear I could feel time growing slower. My morbid curiosity got the best of me, and I turned on my heel. As the door shut with a final ominous click, I saw that Erik was holding the girl in his arms and smiling at the woman who had brought her in. They looked like the model of a perfect family, and all I could do was stand outside and stew in my own jealousy. I paced aimlessly up and down the shopping center's walkway trying to get a handle on all of the emotions that had come storming to the surface that morning. Eventually, I turned back toward the parking lot and dashed through the rain to my car. Just before I got into the car, I risked one glance back at the coffee house. Erik was cleaning off the tables that ran along the front window, and he paused in his ministrations to look outside. It must have been a trick of the rain, but it looked like he held his hand up to the glass to wave goodbye as I looked. Feeling embarrassed, jealous and sad all over again, I got into the car and headed across the street to work.
I had a feeling that it was going to be one very, very long day.
Erik Sings The Blues ===============
I sighed as I thought about the prospects of another day in this tiny little coffee shop. When my manager approached me about switching stores, she lured me with a promise of managerial pay at a fast-paced store just minutes from my house. When the paperwork had all been done, what I ended up with was a 5% raise from my already meager salary and a transfer to the smallest store in the chain. So, instead of a decent wage and fun times at work, I got stuck in a shitty little store making damned near nothing.
Que sera, sera... I guess.
The only real positive thing that my job offered was a chance to work on my music virtually uninterrupted. From the age of about 10, I would routinely find myself humming snatches of songs that I heard on the radio, altering the cadence or adding in a piano accompaniment in some sort of bizarre quest to "perfect" the song. Sometimes I would just listen to the music and think of a brand new set of lyrics, often transforming a pop song into something dreary and depressing or a country song into a tune about finding dogs, cars and women everywhere you looked. One time, my mom started laughing so hard at my impromptu revision of a song that she almost got us into an accident on the freeway! After that incident, she suggested that I write down the lyrics so as to avoid another incident like that. From that day forth, I carried a little notebook around with me everywhere I went, jotting down notes on phrasing and reminders of interesting harmony ideas that popped into my head unbidden. Eventually, all of the jotting started to become full fledged songwriting and composing. I may not have been the next Carole King, but at least it was something to fill my idle times.
Oddly enough, I never really entertained the idea of becoming a performer. I had no problem singing to myself in the shower, but I was always much more comfortable with the idea of someone else performing my works for me. During high school, I saw an ad on a school bulletin board looking for people to audition for an acoustic guitarist spot in a band. I had taken guitar lessons throughout most of elementary school, and kept in practice to help with composing songs. I did find it a bit odd that the ad specified acoustic guitar, though... most of the bands that formed at my school were composed of a lone drummer, as many electric guitarists as could be fit into a room, and one scrawny, pale guy screeching and howling into a microphone.
When I dropped by the band's rehearsal, it turned out that the band was composed entirely of guys that I knew of in passing from school. As a little demonstration of my skills I played some Clapton tunes, some other pop songs that I had heard on the radio... and then, on a whim, I played one of my songs. It wasn't even a finished song, but the entire band just stood looking at me as I played. I abruptly stopped playing as I felt the pressure of 4 sets of eyes boring into my skull, and I immediately turned beet red. Denny, the drummer, just looked at me and said "Play that again man..." Somewhat confused, I started playing the song again, and Denny started playing a light drum rhythm along with my guitar. Within minutes, everyone had joined in and we spent almost an hour playing with different sounds and instrument combinations, tweaking every part of the song. From that afternoon forward, I was an official member and head songwriter of Davey's Goliath.
Somehow the band stuck together once we graduated, and we actually developed somewhat of a cult following in town. Of course, being part of a band in the Bay Area was somewhat akin to being an aspiring actor in L.A., but it gave us all the chance to do something we loved. We struggled through scheduling conflicts, petty arguments, heckling and financial crises trying to make a name for ourselves, but overall things worked out pretty well. We held down day jobs, hoping for that one day that our big break would come. 8 years after I joined the band, we had experienced plenty of small breaks, but never quite hit the big times.
Still, I worked at writing songs and music, and slaved away slinging coffee every day. I was sure that one day my coworkers would string me up for constantly tapping out beats on the counter with a pen or humming to myself, but no one seemed to mind too much.
With another overdramatic sigh, I tossed my notebook back underneath the counter and started flipping a pen between my fingers. Out of the blue, someone yanked open the door and rushed in out of the rain. I barely had the chance to see a long blond ponytail stalking past the espresso machines by the time I had made the three step journey to the cash register.
I grabbed a cup, put on my best aren't-you-the-most-wonderful-customer-ever face and got ready to take my first order of the morning.
"What can I get you?"
It wasn't until after I had spoken that I got my first glimpse of the blond guy's face. As soon as he looked up, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. The smile froze in place on my face. What the hell was HE doing here? The last time I had seen him, we were passing each other in the parking lot of a company 30 miles away.
At first I thought that he had recognized me as I saw the look on his face go from anger to a look of utter shock. After a few seconds of staring, he blinked rapidly and then started to order.
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... uhhh..."
Finally, he managed to mumble his order while his eyes darted all over the room. I rang up the order and gave him the total. He handed over a debit card and chewed on his lip nervously.
"Can I see some I.D.?"
He reached into the pocket of his jeans like an automaton, and started to pull out a black leather wallet from his pocket. As he flipped open the wallet, things quickly moved into slow motion hilarity. The wallet went flying one way and business cards went flying another. I really felt sorry for him, and discretely hid my chuckling behind the counter as I knelt to pick up the items strewn everywhere. Once he had stuffed his items back into his wallet, I decided to take pity on him and tried my best to keep a straight face. I ripped the credit card receipt from the printer, grabbed a pen, and held the pair out to him. He stared right at me for a few moments... not so much at me as through me. There was a forlorn look in his eyes that I'd never seen before. The few times we'd crossed paths in the past he'd always carried himself in a determined fashion, like a man on a very important mission. Now he just looked like a wet, blond and very cute puppy. I couldn't help but chuckle at the imagery.
Once I started to laugh, he blinked rapidly and his cheeks turned bright red. I hoped that I wasn't making him feel bad by laughing, but I really couldn't help myself. Acting on my noblest instincts, I finished ringing him up quickly and started to make his drink.
Since there was no one else in the store, I did what little I could to keep him around as long as possible. I was sure that it wouldn't help his embarrassment at all, but I let my childish instincts allow me to stall. While my hands were busy steaming milk, my mind was busy trying to think of some way to talk around his discomfort. Unfortunately for me, my hands were always much faster than my brain and no amount of stalling could unmake the cup of coffee in front of me.
When I turned to hand him his coffee, I noticed that his blush had faded a bit and that he was chewing on his lower lip again. It looked like he was doing his best to make sure than the locks of hair that weren't bound in his ponytail covered as much of his face as possible. He seemed to be deep in thought, and didn't stir when I placed his coffee on the bar.
"Terryn?"
I realized with a start that I had never addressed him by name before. He had always been just a face in passing, or a voice on the other end of a telephone line. It seemed like the simple act of saying his name lent some strange clarity to the moment and verified that he had really walked back into my life after all this time.
"You're all set!"
Quite the conversationalist, aren't you? Dumbass! Say something useful!
As I opened my mouth in a vain attempt to say something witty, Terryn mumbled his thanks and raced toward the condiment bar. I frowned and tried to shrug off the nagging feeling that I was reading too much into the situation. On impulse, I walked around the counter and headed toward the condiment bar to try talking to him once more. As I rounded the corner, I saw another one of my favorite blondes come racing across the store. As she jumped into my arms, Angie shrieked "DADDY!!" at the top of her lungs like she always did. I gave her a hug and gave her mother a quick kiss hello. The door swung shut, and I had just enough time to glance out through the glass in order to see Terryn standing outside. He hung his head and walked away before I had a chance to do anything.
Angie's shouting was enough to rouse my co-"worker" Tony from his weed- induced nap in the back. I had tried several times to get Tony fired, but each time my manager reminded me that we were several people short of a full staff and that we needed warm bodies in the store. Though I was always hesitant to use the words "work" and "Tony" in the same sentence, he always managed to sober up just in time for the daily rush. I had adopted a "don't ask, don't yell" policy with him. As long as he didn't piss me off or let customers know that he was stoned I stayed off of his back and out of his way.
"Dude, I think someone dropped this, dude."
I couldn't help gritting my teeth at his use of the word "dude" multiple times in the same sentence. He stood behind the counter holding up a small plastic rectangle. I set Angie down and wandered over to look at what he was holding. My eyes widened as I realized that he was holding Terryn's driver's license. I took it from his hand and walked toward the front of the store. I scanned the parking lot without luck, hoping to see him out in the parking lot.
"It must have fallen out when he dropped his wallet. Hopefully he'll realize it's missing and come back for it."
I must have sounded as excited as I felt because Tess gave me an odd look. Tony just shrugged and wandered back into the back room. Once he had disappeared, I turned to Tess and showed her the I.D.
"Look... I know that I kinda dropped this on you out of the blue and that you're still not really OK with all of this, but that was HIM. That was the guy I've been preoccupied with for so long. He was here, in MY store, and he might come back for this!"
Tess gathered Angie up in her arms and looked at me.
"Erik, I don't know what to say. I just stopped by for Angie's sake. She misses her dad, you know. "
"Yeah, I know. I know her mom does, too."
I cuffed Tess on the chin gently to keep her from crying.
"Erik, hon... I don't want this to keep Angie away from her family. I still love you, you know. Always will. This will just take... some time to get used to, I guess."
"I know Tess... I know."
"Angie, honey, give him a goodbye kiss."
Angie planted a kiss on my lips with all of the fervor that a 2 1/2 year old can muster. I tickled her tummy and gave her a kiss on the forehead. I walked them to the door and waved as they walked off. Angie blew another incredibly cute kiss over her mother's shoulder and I dutifully caught it and put it into my pocket.
Once they had left, I went through the motions of cleaning tables as I stared at his I.D. While the picture on the I.D. wasn't nearly as good as watching him in the flesh, at that point I had to make due with what I had. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the zip code on his license was the same as mine. Once I had stopped to read the address, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I'd been bemoaning the loss of this man for so long, and he lived less than five blocks from my house. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a blond streak racing across the parking lot to get into his car and get out of the rain. My first instinct was to run out the door after him, but I knew I'd never cover the distance in time. All I had time to do was to press the I.D. up to the window in the palm of my hand and hope he'd look over. Surprisingly, he looked right at me and I waved my right hand to get his attention. I thought that it had worked, but he just ducked his head again and then slowly got into his car and drove off.
All I could do was wait out my shift, and hope that when he came back for his I.D. I'd finally work up the nerve to have a real conversation with him. Everything about the morning had turned out badly, and I lapsed back into an old habit that I determined to give up years prior.
I prayed that everything would work out for the best.
================ Author's Ego Note #1 ================
Welcome to the end of the first installment of a story that has been bouncing around in my head for months. I actually started this story in June, but work and other time constraints put a damper on the pace of the writing. If you didn't like the dual first person setup of this chapter, too bad for you. If you don't like the fact that no one just started humping randomly, don't bother with part 2.
Copyright 2004 by TehGenius. Comments and constructive criticism welcome at stories@tehgenius.com.