Well, here is the third part of this series. I know it has taken me awhile, but I have been unemployed and hitting the streets.for a job.errr..well, you know what I mean! Thanks to everyone that wrote me asking me to finish. I know where this story is going now, so installments should come more quickly. Anyhow, this story contains descriptions of male/male relationships. If this is illegal for you to be reading, or if you are underage, then this is a no-no. Also, this story is purely fiction and written for entertainment value. The author nor the forum on which it is posted does not claim to know anything about the true sexual orientation of singer Ricky Martin. We'll just leave the presumptions to the media.
He's All I Need, Part III:
"Let me love you for a day, let me have you for a night."
By: Dmetri Xavier
I awoke to the feeling of Ricky's lips pressing against my neck. Without thinking, I arched my head back to give him better access. I could feel him kissing and nibbling the area around my Adam's apple. Then he moved farther back, to the softer area where my neck meets my shoulder, and began licking and kissing the jugular area. Instinctively, I moved my hands up to his head, almost guiding him around the sensitive spots on my neck. I could feel his heat has he moved to be on top of me, he body fitting again to mine like a puzzle piece. I could feel his left hand behind my neck, massaging while he was kissing, and I could feel his right straying under the top folds of my robe. I let out a moan has he began to touch and caress my pecs, but as soon as he touched my nipples and that immediate sexual current shocked through my body, I almost screamed out. I jumped up, almost knocking him off me.
"Stop, please." I said breathlessly.
He looked at me, broken out of his lustful revelry, "Huh? Jimmy what's wrong?"
"I can't do this." I answered weakly.
"Do what? Make out? I thought that's what a couple did." he looked at me hurt.
I looked at him point-blank, "But we aren't a couple Ricky," he looked almost dejected, "Not yet anyway. I mean, you're a nice guy, but that felt like more than the standard make-out session to me. That felt like it was meant to lead somewhere else."
Ricky looked at me, like I was the hardest thing to understand, "And would that have been so wrong? I mean, I though that after yesterday we were closer somehow."
He looked as if he were about to cry. I looked at him closer. I thought I saw what the problem was, so I put it out on the table, "Ricky, forgive me for asking this, and you don't have to answer, but how long was it before you slept with Pablo after meeting him?"
He looked at me as if a small light was coming on, "Well.uhmm.the first night." he looked away from me shyly, like he was ashamed, "But I am not a slut Jimmy.I mean, I don't think I am.I just.well.I felt that he loved me."
I reached out to him, "Ricky I am not calling you a slut. A slut is something that sleeps around with many people not caring about their feelings. You aren't that, but I think that you make your relationships move to fast. You fall for somebody, and you automatically think that the next step should be sex. Did you ever stop to think that what you felt from Pablo wasn't really love, but more like hero worship?"
Ricky just sat there, looking at me dejectedly. I didn't know what else to say, because I already felt terrible. He was looking off out the window, almost like he was shutting me out. I reached out to touch him, but he shied away from me. I didn't know what else to do so I stood up and stood in front of him. I looked down at him, he glanced away quickly to avoid my gaze. "Ricky, why are you acting this way? I am just being honest with you. You say you might want a relationship with me, but we can't have a relationship without trust. And I am sorry, but I can't have a relationship with you until I know you, " he was still looking down at the floor, avoiding my gaze, "Well, since you want to be a child and you don't want to talk this over, then I think it's time that you go." I said, getting up and opening the door for him.
I waited for what seemed like an eternity, Ricky then stood up and got his coat. As he walked by the roses, he briefly touched them gently, then he just walked right past me out the door, not even glancing at me or saying anything to me. I wanted to say something to him, but I was so angry at that point I figured the best thing to do was let him go. He wasn't worth the effort if he never was going to admit his faults and be an adult. Then it dawned on me. I just kicked Ricky Martin out of my apartment, and here I was justifying it!
@~>~~~>
A few weeks passed, and I hadn't heard nor seen anything of Ricky. I was trying to block him out of my mind, but all that accomplished was my remembering his lips on my neck. Every time something by him played at work or while I was at home listening to the radio, I shuddered and had the overwhelming urge to cry. I tried to figure out why he was affecting me so badly. I chalked it up to him being famous, but that didn't mesh well with me. About three weeks later, I admitted it to myself. I had fallen in love with Ricky Martin, and I didn't even know him, and that made me even more pathetic!
One particular day, a very handsome man by the name of Keith McKennant came into the salon and specifically asked for me. I work on so many people's hair most of the time; it's hard for me to keep track of all of them. Needless to say though, this guy acted like he knew me, and like we had talked a lot, because I supposedly knew all about his work, and his kids, and such. I played along with it, not knowing a darn thing about the guy at all. But hey, I'm a decent actor. I cut and styled the guy's hair to exactly his specifications, while he talked to me about a new touring show he was working on. He was telling me how great the pay was, and how it was going to be a world tour, and that he'd finally get to see some of the places that he had always wanted to go. I humored him of course. I mean, he was a client and who am I to bitch when a client wants to prattle?
When I was done, I spun his chair around to face the mirror, and with my usual flourish I introduced the new him. He laughed at this, but then took on a very serious tone when inspecting his hair. "This is very nice James. You know, you're the only hairdresser I have ever gone to that can actually follow directions to a tee."
Hey, I'll admit, I have an ego, and this was a big boost for me, "Well, thank you sir. My philosophy has always been just to give the client what they want. No more, no less."
"Well, I am impressed again. You know we are looking for hairdressers and make-up artists for this tour that I am putting together. We'd love to have someone of your caliber along, because we need a style director for the show. Would you be interested in something like this?"
I was kind of taken aback. I didn't know what to tell him, "Well.thank you Mr. McKennant, but I don't know."
"Don't say yes or no yet James. Why don't you come out to lunch with me later this afternoon and we can discuss the specifics. What time is your lunch hour?" He said to me.
"Well, today is my short day, so I leave here at two o'clock."
"Perfect! Meet me at the Plaza Hotel restaurant at 2:30 and we'll do lunch." And without leaving me time to respond, he left the salon. "What is it with guy inviting me to their hotels?" I asked myself.
@~~>~~~>
I treated myself to a cab rather than take the subway to the hotel like I normally would have. When I got there I was just about to go into the restaurant when McKennant stopped me. "Hey there James," he said, extending his hand, "Glad you could make it."
"Sure, no problem. Shall we?" I asked indicating the restaurant.
"Oh yes, I have already reserved us a table. Let's go." I followed him into the darkened restaurant. The maitre'd led us to a secluded table, and proffered menus. I took mine and immediately ordered a mineral water. McKennant ordered a scotch on the rocks. The maitre'd left to give our drink order to our waiter, and I then looked directly into the eyes of my host and asking frankly, "Okay, Mr. McKennant. You've got me here, what do you want from me?"
"Well, James, it's like I told you. I am organizing a world tour for a famous music act, and we are in need of make-up and hair artists. You would be on a team, you wouldn't be in charge, we already have someone for that, but she is actually planning on leaving the show sometime in the middle, which at that time you will be placed in charge of the group. Until then, you will be her second in command, and she has been on my case to find someone she can work with. I definitely think you are the one. She's a bit of a pistol, if you know what I mean, and she has a tendency to frighten people off."
I chuckled at this, "You've never worked for Orlando, Mr. McKennant. He is the original pistol, if you know what I mean."
"Well, then, I'll just get on with the details then. The tour starts here in New York, then continues east to London, making several stops in Europe, then heads over to Japan, where it will conclude back here in the states after hitting several major venues. The pay is what I would consider outstanding, and your entire trip related expenses and such are covered by the tour. You would probably be gone for an entire year, but then after that depending on our needs, we might be able to us you further as far as the star performers' music videos and such. Otherwise, James, to be honest, if you were smart and banked the money you could earn off a tour like this, you could probably open your own salon or even better, get into make-up and hair for the motion picture industry."
I was flabbergasted.to think me actually being able to pay off everything I own, plus maybe having something left over to open my own salon. I looked directly into McKennant's eyes and asked, "Okay, you've almost got me convinced. Honestly though, how much money are we talking here?"
McKennant looked at me, pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket, wrote a figure down on a cocktail napkin and slid it over to me. I looked down on the napkin. Wow.
"Will that do?" he asked me.
"Uh, yeah. When do we leave?" I said jokingly, "No seriously, I have to give Orlando at least three weeks notice, also during which I will have to help find a replacement for me so that my client's don't get left behind, so to speak."
"The tour doesn't start for another month. Is that enough time?"
"It should be. What should I do about my co-op?"
"Can you sub-lease it?"
"Well, I can try. I'll have to look at my contract. I just recently bought it, so I actually will have to see if the association will allow renters."
"Well, if that doesn't work, then my company can purchase the co-op from you, just keep it vacant, and then you can purchase it back from us."
"Really, you'd do that for me?"
"Of course Jimmy. May I call you Jimmy?" I shook my head in response, "You have talent, and I am not just talking about hair dressing. You make a customer feel like a star, even thought they may not be one. That's why I like you. And since you've agreed to join us, let's celebrate with a little drink, shall we?"
I was stunned. A million questions ran through my head at that moment, but I all could say was, "Sure, what the hell!"
McKennant gestured toward the waiter, and all of the sudden another appeared with two martinis. We were each handed one, and we toasted my newfound job. Everything was just falling into place for me. I was more than just thrilled. McKennant and I talked more about the tour, and what would be expected of me, and such. The drinks kept coming, and it was obvious to me that I was getting a little inebriated. McKennant was too, by the look of him.
"You know McKennant, I've had a really shitty week. I meant this wonderful person, and we hit it off really well, and well it turned sour really quick. I have had a really bad week, and then you came along and offered me this job, and now I think I am having a wonderful week." My God did that just come out of my mouth?
"Oh Jimmy, please. Call me Keith." He answered, slurring every other word.
"Ok Keith, thank you." I said, proffering my hand for a handshake.
Keith took my hand in his, and looked me in the eye, "Jimmy, I think we've had a little too much to drink. I don't think that you will be able to make it home in this pre- dic-a-ment, so I think you should just stay in my room this even-ing." Oh my, was he drunk! Punctulating every syllabale.
"You know, I think I have to agree with you. Let's go." I said, trying to stand, but only succeeding in falling back into my chair. I giggled. I then finally got up after three unsuccessful tries.
We made our way up to Keith's room, and as he fumbled with the little keycard, he point-blank asked me, "You know Jimmy, I wonder, do you find me attractive?"
Under normal circumstances, I probably would've been pissed and slugged him, but being that I was drunk, "Yeah, Keith. You are cute. I think I would say attractive."
The door opened, and we stepped inside. As soon as the door was closed, we were all over each other. Clothes were flying everywhere, and the next thing I know we stumbled our way over to the bed. I could feel heat everywhere, and we were both sweating profusely. Keith pulled me down onto the bed, and shut out the lights..
Well? What do you think? Did they or didn't they? Don't make any judgements yet guys, because there is always the morning after. Questions or comment can be directed to dmetrixavier@hotmail.com Flames of course will be doused.