Disclaimer:
This story is probably fictional. Any similarities between people in real life and my characters are probably not coincidences--I doubtlessly based my character off that specific individual you are thinking of. Comments, questions, concerns, advice, or requests? I'd love to here from you at krazytop@gmail.com
Part I
Sasha sighed. "Sometimes, Jeremy, I think my new boyfriend is gay."
I laughed. "Sasha, your new boyfriend is a hot, dumb jock. He's not gay."
"But you're a hot dumb jock," Sasha mused.
I blushed. "I'm not jock enough to be varsity, I'm not dumb enough to be cool, and I'm not hot enough to have a boyfriend. If anything, you are a hot dumb jock."
"You aren't allowed to call a girl a hot dumb jock!" Sasha yelled, slapping me.
"Ow. Need you be so violent?"
"Stop being a pussy. Listen, my boyfriend is coming over to my place at six, but I forgot that my track meet doesn't end till seven, so you are going to need to be there to greet him."
"Uh..." I said. "Why don't you just call him and tell him?"
"Oh Jeremy. I won't remember my track meet until it's too late! You are going to need to be there to tell him I made a terrible mistake. And god forbid something go wrong and I can't make it in time, you will need to be there so that I can save face."
"Sasha!" I said quietly. "I don't want to be a part of your scheme."
"Relax. It's not a scheme, I just need your gaydar. Just wait till he comes over and hit on him."
"Sasha, with all due respect, this is your worst idea ever. Worse than the crocodile heist. Worse than the shoe-hat. Worse than knitted condoms. Worse than—"
"Oh shut up. And they weren't just knitted condoms; they doubled as baby socks."
"Which you would need if you used woven condoms."
"Exactly," Sasha said, winking. "What were we talking about again?"
"Me hitting on your boyfriend. Sasha, what if he is gay? Either way this could mess with your relationship."
Sasha sighed. "If he's gay, I want to know now. If he's not, maybe you can figure out why he never touches my big jiggly boobs. Although, if it's because I'm not hot enough, just tell me he is gay."
"I am not going to lie—"
"Well, you'd better. Thanks for the help Jeremy!"
"Wait! I never agreed—"
Sasha was out the door before I even finished my complaint.
This was a bad idea. I was sitting on the couch in a tight tee and jeans, wringing my hands. Why did I let Sasha get me into this?
I eventually got bored and looked around for something to do. I found a deck of cards and started building. Walls, roofs, roads, towers; queens with hearts and kings with swords; jesters holding clubs; and a jack of all trades, working with spades, digging for diamonds.
The doorbell rang and I got it. I bit my lip as the door rattled open.
Sasha's boyfriend lingered in the shadows. His thick muscles strained at his shirt. He had piercing blue eyes that looked through me, wavy, clean-cut dirty blond hair, and a thin face that lit up as he smiled, however weakly.
"Is Sasha here?"
"She had a track meet. She sent me here to tell to wait for her."
"Oh, uh okay," he said. He stood there, tense. I swear, you could balance a baby on his huge, stiff pecs. He scratched his ear.
"You want to come in man?" I asked.
"Oh, uh yeah," he said, closing the door softly.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Charles Animus. You can call me Animal if you want."
"I'm Jeremy," I said. Then quieter, "and you can call me Animal too."
"What?" he said, laughing slightly. Did he have to flex his biceps at all times?
"Want to play cards?" I asked.
"Sure," he said.
I dealt out hands for rummy.
"So, how do you know Sasha?" he asked, stretching.
"I'm a friend," I said, discarding the queen of diamonds.
He laughed, thumbing my discard before drawing from the deck. "Is that code for on-again, off-again boyfriend, ready to clean up after me?" He trashed a jack and I grabbed it.
"Not quite. She's not really my type," I said, raising my eyebrows. God, I can't do this. I am so embarrassed!
I fired a seven of hearts and Animal ignored it, drawing in the dark. "Dude, don't take this the wrong way, but if she's not your type, then you gotta be a homo, cuz Sasha is fuckin hot."
I blushed and looked down.
His eyes bolted.
"Sorry man," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to make fun of you, man. Are you--gay?"
"Yeah," I said, covering my face with one hand and rubbing my temple.
"Dude!" he said. "What's that like?"
"Well, it's sort of like being any other guy I think. Except I fantasize about dick."
"Dude..." he said. I think he forgot it was his turn. "Doesn't that suck though? You have to tend to the needs of other guys. Why would you like that?"
"Well, I probably like it more than girls. I'm as horny as any guy. I just like to submit like a girl."
He cleared his throat. "Your boyfriend is a lucky guy."
"I don't have one."
"You don't have one!" he yelled. "But you are hot! I mean, good-looking and nice and all, and all you want is a guy to please? Hell, who wouldn't want you?"
"Well, most guys want girls I think. It's getting really bad too. I mean, I'm so afraid to hit on a hot guy, but the truth is, I'd be more than willing to be their bitch. If only they would just ask."
"What do you mean, be their bitch?"
"Well, basically every time I see a hot guy I imagine what it would be like to be his cocksucking slave. Then I usually jerk-off."
He moaned faintly. Then he whispered. "And what do you think of me?"
"Well, it's too bad for me you are straight man. Cuz you are the type of guy I can't stop picturing naked."
"Dude..." he whispered. His eyes flashed and he discarded the ace of spades.
I took it enthusiastically, slamming down a set of four. I put down the jacks I was slow-rolling and discarded facedown.
"You win," he said quietly, walking around the table and sitting next to me.
"I win," I repeated.
"Sasha is my girlfriend man. And your friend. Why are you doing this to her?"
"I'm not doing anything to her man. Just being honest. Are you?"
He pierced me with his deep blue eyes. He leaned in, and his mouth opened, his tongue slithered out, and I closed my eyes.