Insomnia

Disclaimer: Anything mentioned in this story is complete fiction. The sexuality of anyone in the story is not necessarily true, but just written to entertain. If you are underage or if it is illegal to read pornographic material where you live, please leave now. Also, if you are uncomfortable with gay relationships, you should not read any further. For everyone else, enjoy the show...

I could already feel the uncontrollable smile cross my face as I exited the plane. I had been waiting for this moment, for what felt like years. As I hurried off the plane, my duffel bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder while my portfolio hung on for dear life on the other, I saw the one true vision of beauty in my life. The crowd parted like the Red Sea in the presence of pure perfection.

Without saying a word I let the bags melt off of my body and I scooped the angel sent from my dreams into my arms.

"God did I miss you," I said softly, almost afraid I might frighten away my love if I spoke to loudly.

"It's only been three days," Ahnna said, her light flirty tone caressing my ear drums.

I held her out at arms length so I could see the smile I heard on her lips. She was more gorgeous then I could have ever remembered. Her normally straight waist length jet black hair was curled slightly causing it to bounce at her shoulders with every laugh. The contrast between her soft mocha colored skin, that glowed brightly even in the harsh light of the airport, and her clear blue eyes was breathtaking. Even though I had seen her in every possible instance she could still make my heart race when she walked into a room.

Ahnna was the type of girl that made me wish I was straight. Her long shapely legs and well endowed form sometimes made me pray to God that I could react to her the way any red blooded American (or otherwise) man would. I loved her so deeply and was attracted to her spirit as well as her beauty that I had proposed to her on many an occasion. Thankfully she has always had more sense then I have and gracefully declined all of my advances, no matter how benign they might have been.

"So what do I owe this early arrival to?" she asked, already knowing I was about to say something big.

I was sure she could see it in my eyes. We had known each other for too long to not pick up on those things.

"We have a lot to talk about," I said simply.

She looked at me anxiously twisting the silver charm bracelet around her wrist. I had given it to her 18 years ago.

"What did you do?" she asked when we were finally secure in a taxi.

"I slept with him," I said, glancing up at the driver who appeared to be unaware of my admission. Either he didn't hear what we were talking about or he had heard much worse, I was assuming the latter.

"The singer?" she asked with wide sparkling blue eyes.

"Yes," I said looking straight ahead.

"And why are you here with me then?" she asked pushing my face toward her with one graceful hand.

"I left. It was a one night sort of thing."

"He just asked you to leave this morning?"

"Not exactly."

"What are you not telling me?"

"Michael." I let the name hang in the air for a few moments as the realization swept over her.

"I did not tell him," she said eyebrows furrowed.

"I know," I said running my thumb across her face smoothing one dark eyebrow.

"How did he..."

"It's Michael," I said shrugging.

"When are you going to see him?" she asked with a slight edge to her voice.

This was about as mad as Ahnna could get.

"I don't know. I didn't actually talk to him. He left a message."

"That must have been one hell of a message."

"For him it was. I really think he might have changed."

"But how can you be sure?"

"I won't know until I see him. I will just call him when I get home."

"What if things have not changed?" she asked linking her fingers with mine.

I looked down at the contrast of our skin tones and smiled.

"I won't stick around. I promise."

"How did you leave things with the singer?"

"His name is Joshua. And I just left."

"Then I guess I do not really need to know his name."

"Good point," I said laughing.

"I just want to go on record as saying I do not like this idea one bit."

"Dually noted."

"You really seemed like you were into the singer and you just threw away any chance with him for Michael."

"But I love him," was the only explanation I could come up with.

"I know sweetie," she said kissing my hand. "No matter what I will be there."

I kissed her cheek softly.

"Tell me about the art show," she said knowing exactly when to change the subject.

"It was good, a lot different then here of course. But we sold out in the first hour or so."

"That is great," she said rubbing my arm.

"Dare I ask how work is going?"

"Well you know how we started the clinic a few weeks ago?"

"How could I forget? It was all you talked about for a whole year."

"Anyway, it is not doing very good. Some of the funding got pulled for some reason no one seems to be able to tell me and we are extremely short staffed."

"Is this going to translate into you dropping me off at home and scurrying back to the hospital instead of having dinner like we planned?"

"Possibly."

"The life of a surgeon's wife," I said laughing.

"Are you upset?"

"Never. You can go and save lives while I dine alone," I said kissing her forehead.

Ahnna laid her head on my shoulder, her long black hair cascading over my arm.

"I promise it won't be like this forever."

"Yes just the past eight years or so," I said laughing.

"Josiah," she said almost pleading with me with those bright eyes.

"I am just giving you a hard time angel," I said as the car jerked to a stop in front of my loft. "Save a few lives for me."

"Always," she said kissing me lightly on the lips. "I will call you when I get home tonight."

"Or in the morning, either way," I said winking at her through the window.

"Be safe," she said waving as the taxi took off again.

"Always," I said softly.

It might sound kind of sappy but I was really looking forward to finally spending some time with Ahnna. Our nights out, or in, were few and far between. Her career was very important to her and extremely demanding and for the most part I had learned to live with it. I did have to admit, being blown off to save the world hurt a lot less when you weren't going home to an empty apartment.

I climbed the five flights of stairs slowly, not because the elevator was broken once again, but more because I needed enough time to think about my next move with Michael without being confronted just yet with the space we had occupied together so many nights in the past.

I wasn't sure if calling him would be the best plan for my first night back. But after all I did decide to come back for him. What did I really expect to happen though; he'd just open his arms and welcome me back into his life and his heart? So what he had asked about me and left me a cryptic voicemail wishing me a safe return home. That didn't mean much, especially when it came to him. He was like a confusing book with beautifully intriguing quotes on the outside cover. I was eager to let the words wash over me but when I opened it, every word was foreign to me.

Everyone loved him but I just didn't get it. Sure I loved him too, I still do in some ways, but I never understood why. Morally he isn't the greatest person in the world. Some would call him a money grubbing fiend. Okay, maybe that's a little harsh. He likes money and he has a lot of it, simple as that. It is not necessarily a bad thing but with him, well he portrays himself as superior to everyone else. Of course, living in New York, that's not really frowned upon. Actually it is a quality that is admired in most. It is the quality that everyone seems to be drawn to like a pack of wolves. I guess technically I may be no different then them at all.

I paused in front of the large red door to my apartment as I fumbled with my keys, dropping my portfolio in the process. I slid the heavy door open with one hand as I bent down to scoop up the leather case. I froze, staring down at a pair of sleek black Gucci loafers. They were so highly polished I could almost see my bright blue eyes staring back at me. I followed the ridiculously expensive shoes up a perfectly creased gray linen pant leg to a thin white collard shirt. I glanced at the tan muscular torso peeking through the perfectly ironed shirt when I heard the words I had been longing to hear since I had met the man.

"Honey you're home," Michael said, his full pink lips curving into a sly smile.

He handed me a glass of white wine and kissed my cheek most likely wondering when I would finally close my mouth and get over the shock of him being right there in my apartment.

"What?" was all I could say finally taking the glass from him and walking further into the room. I didn't let my eyes fall from him.

"I thought I would surprise you with dinner," he said sliding the door closed as he scooped up my portfolio.

"You cooked?" I asked amazed he would even think to step foot into a kitchen.

"I ordered in," he said matter-of-factly. "You haven't forgotten that much about me have you?"

He walked closer to me and ran his hand up and down my back.

"Of course I didn't forget your cooking phobia. I'm just surprised that's all."

"Understandable. Shall we dine darling?" he asked pressing his rock hard chest against mine.

"Um...I..." I had no idea what to say actually so instead I laid my duffel bag next to the couch and took a seat at the rickety little kitchen table that was dwarfed in comparison to the size of the loft.

"Voila!" he said uncovering a large silver dish. "Shellfish Cioppino and crab cakes. Do you remember when we first had this?"

"Yes of course," I said instinctively standing to serve us both.

"Sit," Michael said throwing me a killer smile that made my body tingle from head to toe.

I obeyed his command and watched him dish out the most aromatic food I had ever smelled in my life. The light yet tangy aroma of the seafood brought back so many memories of make up dinners, tender kisses, and twisted sheets.

Michael leaned over my shoulder and placed my napkin in my lap. I could feel his strong chest press against my back as he kissed my cheek lightly.

If he had lingered any longer I'm fairly sure my heart would have exploded in my chest.

"Thank you," I said softly my voice cracking.

"How was L.A.?" he asked sitting next to me.

"Good. I sold out at the gallery."

"Was there any doubt? You are by far the most talented artist that has ever graced the walls of any one of my galleries."

I said nothing but bowed my head slightly in thanks. I tried to concentrate on my food, on the glass of wine I was not going to drink, anything but his piercing gaze into the side of my face.

"I apologize for letting myself into your home," Michael said sitting back in his chair and sipping his wine. "I only wanted to do something special for you as a welcome back to the city."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Michael had actually apologized for something. I stared at him. His dark expertly cut hair, his flawless tanned skin that seemed to shimmer and sparkle in the candlelight, his manicured finger tips lightly wrapped around the wine glass; everything about Michael screamed perfection. Apologizing was not perfection.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "Honestly though I must admit this time I don't mind."

His full lips turned upward into a smile. "You are very welcome."

"How is work?" I asked, finally tasting my dinner.

"Wonderful. I acquired a new business I wanted to discuss with you actually."

I raised my eyebrows expectantly as I chewed.

"We'll talk about that later though. I have something else to tell you first."

"Yes?" I ran the napkin quickly over my lips and placed it back on my lap.

Michael looked at me intently for a moment, something in his eyes that looked remotely like love. I wasn't sure because it had truly been years since I had seen that familiar sparkle.

"I know we didn't part on perfect terms before you left for L.A.," Michael began. "We actually parted on the worst of terms if I remember correctly. But I did miss you. I honestly didn't know how to express that but this is the best way I know how."

Michael lowered his arm and almost instantly there was a long black velvet box sitting in front of me.

"I..." I began.

"Open it," Michael said taking a sip of wine, his eyes twinkling at me.

I took a deep breath and prayed it wouldn't be some gaudy diamond studded monstrosity, as I opened the box. Staring up at me was a thick gold block with in laid diamonds covering about 90 percent of it. But what I focused on was what was attached to the small ring at the end of the block. It was a key. As I stared at it, it seemed to glimmer against the satin lining. I knew immediately it was a key to his penthouse on Fifth Avenue, one of three in the city.

"What do you think?" Michael asked.

I could hear a tinge of impatience in his voice.

"Isn't this why you left me?" Michael asked sitting his glass down gently on the table.

"Michael I didn't leave you," I said closing the box. "You told me you didn't want what I wanted. You told to me to go. I went."

"I made a mistake," he said laughing lightly almost to himself. "It doesn't happen often but I'm a big enough man to admit when it does."

I nodded, unsure rather to truly believe the words he was saying. I had wanted to be more a part of his life so badly for so long that I was almost positive it would never happen. It wasn't as though he was secretive about his family exactly. Michael just never talked about them. I knew he had a sister in California but I had no idea what her name was let alone if she was younger or older than him.

"Josiah," Michael said wrapping his hand around mine, "I do want you to be part of my life. I'll do whatever I need to, to show you that."

"Thank you," I said probably cracking my first smile of the evening.

"Come here," Michael said quietly, putting his hand on the back of my head. He brought me into our first kiss in over a month.

I had forgotten how aggressive he was, his lips scraping against mine as his tongue invaded my mouth.

"Do you want dessert?" he asked so close to my face I could feel his bottom lip skim my nose.

I nodded feeling my fingertips begin to tingle as if I had been chopping hot peppers all day.

Michael rose, kissing my forehead and running his hand through my hair.

"Do you need help?" I asked sitting back in my chair to get a better view of his gorgeous physique as he made his way to the refrigerator.

"I think I can manage," he said, his words flirting with my ears.

I watched as he sauntered back over to the table with a glass plate. Placed in the center was a square of tiramisu.

"This is your favorite, right?" he asked sitting back down next to me.

I nodded, although the Italian coffee flavored treat was not anywhere near my favorite dessert. I decided not to ruin the moment with inane details. After all, he had given me a key that would not only unlock his home but also a new chapter of our life together. Or at least that is what I prayed it represented.

Michael let the fork sink into the cool dessert and then twirled it in front of my lips urging me to open my mouth.

I accepted the gift letting the rich cake slide down my throat. I closed my eyes for a moment feeling his fingers caress my neck.

My eyes slid open and I smiled at him.

"You are so beautiful," he said in a husky voice.

He fed me another bite. A bit of cream lingered on my bottom lip. Before I could reach for the napkin still folded neatly in my lap, his tongue flicked over the offending food particle.

He pushed his lips against mine again, almost causing me to lose my breath. My head was spinning with thoughts of our new life together. It was like all my prayers had been answered.

Michael's hands moved gingerly over the sides of my face stroking my jaw line with his thumbs like he did so well. I felt him moan against my lips, my body instinctively responded.

His hands traveled from my face to my chest and continued on a course to the waistband of my jeans. He pulled my shirt off in one fluid motion.

"God I missed your body," Michael said drinking my toned physique in with his dark eyes.

"I just missed you," I said reaching for him.

I grabbed his firm broad shoulders and pulled him close to me, wrapping my arms around him tightly. I leaned back pulling him out of his chair and on top of me, our legs intertwined in an uncomfortable but erotic position. His thigh pressed firmly against my growing member, grinding back and forth as he pushed his body impossibly close to mine.

I felt like I was weightless, flying, until I realized we were tumbling to the ground. The wobbly kitchen chair was apparently not equipped to handle the weight of two grown men.

I groaned as I hit the ground, Michael's full weight landing on top of me.

We looked at each other and began to laugh. Not just a chuckle, but a full out burst of ecstatic laughter. I still cannot remember another time I heard him laugh so freely.

"Are you alright?" he asked between chuckles. His hand rested on the side of my face, stroking his thumb over my pronounced cheekbone.

I nodded, looking up at his dangerously dark eyes hooded by long luscious eyelashes.

He kissed me again, this time lighter. It wasn't full of sexual frustration and longing like our other kisses had been. This one was sweet and soft and, dare I say it, full of love. We kissed like that for a while, small light pecks on the lips followed by long wet explorations of the other's mouth. It almost made me forget that the back of the broken kitchen chair was pushing into my back.

"Let's go upstairs," he said softly, his eyes ticking back and forth over my face.

"Yes, let's."

He picked himself up off the floor, helping me up almost simultaneously. He led the way to my bedroom, which was actually a platform overlooking the rest of the loft with a king size mattress on the floor.

I followed him up the stairs never letting go of his strong hand. I felt as though he were leading me to my destiny, although I had traveled those same stairs many times with and without him.

He laid me down gently on the bed, his hands running all over my hot body. I could barely keep my breath as I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

He smiled down at me watching my childish attempt to disrobe him until it became too much of a tease. He placed his hands over mine, pushing them away gently and sitting up so he was straddling me. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly.

I stared up at him feeling unworthy to even be in the presence of someone so perfectly beautiful.

His shirt slipped over his muscular shoulders, revealing more tanned, firm, glowing skin.

He unbuckled his belt, slowly grinding his hips on top of mine.

I let out a moan and instinctively rose off of the bed to meet his movements. I fought to keep my eyes open. I had been longing for so long to see each curve of his body again.

Michael tossed his belt aside, but instead of continuing on his journey he turned to me. His nimble fingers unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, pulling them from my hips before I even knew what was going on. With my jeans, came my boxers. In one fluid motion I was nude, Michael was on top of me, and nothing else mattered.

My breath caught in my throat as I felt his fist encircle me. He stroked me slowly as we kissed, his warm hand eliciting whimpers from me that did not sound quite human. My head was spinning again, but this time I was not falling to the ground, I was falling further in love with him.

"Make love to me," I whispered hoarsely in his ear.

He looked down at me with a wicked smile.

"Those were the very words I've been waiting to hear all night."

The rest of his clothing seemed to dissolve between us and before I could blink he was inside of me.

I winced for a moment getting used to the sexy intruder.

Michael paused, running his hand through my hair and kissing my lips gently.

I pushed my mouth against his harder, letting my hands slip down his bare muscular back to his round ass. I urged him to enter me deeper and he was all too eager to comply.

We moaned and grunted like that for hours, our sweaty hard bodies scraping against each other as we both climaxed multiple times.

"I love you," he whispered breathlessly in my ear from behind.

I was lying on my side, his strong arms wrapped around me as he slowly made love to my tingling body.

"I love you, Michael," I said feeling like I would explode literally and figuratively.

~~*

When my eyes finally closed the room was just beginning to fill with light. Michael's arms were wrapped tightly around me, his leg securely between mine. His chest rose and fell against my back, my breath falling in unison with his.

When I opened my eyes about three hours later, he was gone. I sat up straight in bed wondering if I had dreamed the entire romantic encounter. My hand ran over the rumpled sheet that was still warm to the touch. My fingers hit something and I looked down. A single sheet of paper with the words, `You are too beautiful to wake up!' lay next to me.

I fell back onto the sheets, my hands running over my face, and smiled. Although, it had definitely felt like a dream, last night had been real.

My hands slid from my face as I heard the door to my apartment slide noisily open. I jumped out of bed, taking five steps to the railing that ran directly in front of my bed.

"Oh Josiah. Can you please put some clothes on?" Ahnna asked laughing. "It is way too early for this."

I laughed as well, scrounging around the floor near my bed for the boxers Michael had discarded the night before.

"I am sorry love. But that is what you get when you burst into a man's apartment at all hours of the morning," I said as I hopped down the stairs.

"Yes, I guess you are right," she said looking stunning even at 7 a.m.

I kissed her forehead gently.

"What happened to your chair?" she asked peeking over my shoulder.

Since I was so much taller than her she did so from her tip toes.

"We need to talk about that."

"What? Was there an earthquake I did not hear about or something?" she asked unpacking the small bag of groceries she had brought me.

"Michael was here last night."

She stopped, a quart of milk hanging loosely in midair.

I swooped in and grabbed it before it hit the floor, making a bigger mess for me to pick up. I placed the glass container in the refrigerator and then turned back to Ahnna.

She was practically in the same position just starring at me.

"It cannot be a surprise that I saw him."

"Did you kill him?"

I smiled and ran my hand over her soft cheek.

"Don't be silly my love." For someone so intelligent, Ahnna could be quite naïve at times. "Quite the contrary actually," I continued.

She must have seen the twinkle in my eye because her face changed immediately from horror to mild disgust.

"Do not be like that," I said wrapping my arms around her tiny waist.

She put her hands firmly against my bare chest and pushed me away.

"Josiah, you are such a smart man. But so stupid when it comes to Michael."

"You knew we would talk. You knew we would inevitably see each other."

"Yes, but I did not know you would jump into bed with him."

"Love, it's not as though I sought out to do so. I am telling you he has changed. Look at what he gave me," I said snatching the key and solid gold key chain off of the table.

"A key," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yes. His key. To his apartment."

"Which one?"

I frowned.

"You do not even know. Do you?" she asked unpacking a container of tofu.

"We didn't really discuss that," I said quietly. "But I assume the one on Fifth Avenue."

"Well does this mean you're moving in with him, into one of his many apartments?"

I was quiet for a moment.

"You did not get around to discussing that either, no?"

I shook my head, my face sullen and downcast.

"Look," she said lifting my chin with a hand, "I am not asking you these questions to rain on your parade. I am just trying to keep you grounded. You fly so high when he is good to you one moment and then come crashing down when he shows his true colors the next."

"But he has changed Ahnna. You must believe me."

"I believe that you see what you wish. I only hope it is true."

~~*

As I mixed blues and greens together trying to find the perfect color for a painting I had no subject for, I contemplated Ahnna's words. I had been blind many times before with Michael.

When we first met I was bussing tables at Tavern On the Green. The large dinning room had a multitude of tables centered underneath the most garish chandelier I had ever seen. Although I had never seen a chandelier before I began working there.

One evening the staff seemed to be buzzing extra loud about a diner by the name of Michael St. Claire. I had heard many peculiar names since my move from Kasane, Botswana in South Africa, but this one took the cake as Americans say. I grew up speaking only Italian for the first five years of my life until my mother moved from Italy to South Africa. There I picked up Tswana fairly quickly and English soon after. Even with a broad range of languages under my belt, the surname St. Claire still makes me laugh to this day.

Anyway, I just zoned out as I often did while at work. Picking up fine china and crystal, smiling and nodding politely at the diners, and all the while creating masterpiece after masterpiece in my mind. It was monotonous work at best that would be screenplay writers and actors, who had not yet gotten the hint that Hollywood was where all the jobs were, excelled at. Many of them merely took the jobs as waiters, hostesses, and buss boys to hobnob with the rich and elite of Central Park West.

I, on the other hand, tried to make as many tips and work as many hours as I could to be able to pay rent, eat, and help Ahnna with her medical school bills. Not necessarily in that order.

I was clearing a table in the far corner that looked out over the magnificent garden and patio area when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned assuming to see Jeremy the short and stout floor leader who was most likely going to order me to do some additional mundane task like load the salt and pepper shakers. Instead I was met eye to eye with the sexiest, whitest smile I had seen in all of my life.

"May I sit here when you're finished? I would love to look out at the garden while I eat my dessert."

By this time I spoke the Queen's English expertly. But for the life of me I could not comprehend the words coming out of the beautiful stranger's mouth.

His dark eyes loomed over me as I shifted me weight from one foot to the other.

"Is that alright?" he pressed.

I nodded and quickly started to prepare the table. I could feel him starring at me. His eyes black as coal looking directly in my soul.

"I'll get your waiter," I said not daring to meet his gaze once again.

"Thank you," he said politely as I rushed off.

It was about three hours before closing, and thus the end of my shift. Michael stayed the entire time sipping Cognac, eating tiramisu, and then sipping coffee. All the while keeping his eyes firmly fixed on me as I darted around tables and bent over backward for patrons.

I tried not to notice him. Tried to push his tanned skin, toned body, and haunting eyes out of my mind. But I couldn't.

After my shift I stepped out of the service entrance, the cold night air smacking me in the face. I walked around the building, shivering as the wind picked up. That winter I had not saved up enough money for a heavy coat. I fumbled with the buttons of my tattered, paint splattered jean jacket but my fingers had already gone numb.

"Would you like a ride?"

I looked to my left as a long black town car came to a rolling stop beside me. Michael smiled that signature smile at me again and I melted, despite the cold coursing through my body.

That was the night everything changed for me. I no longer had to worry about money because Michael paid for everything. I was no longer cold in the winter because Michael bought me a heavy coat. I no longer had to work menial jobs because Michael gave me a job as an assistant curator at one of the many art galleries he owned.

But with the good, came the bad.

His lifestyle was much different then anything I had ever been introduced to. My mother and I never wanted for the necessities like food and shelter but the extravagant living I was thrown into at twenty-one years old was beyond even my wildest fantasies.

Drugs, alcohol, and a steady stream of men bombarded much of our life together. The deeper I fell for him the more outrageous his requests became. Suddenly it was not enough for us to have sex three times a night. He wanted to watch me with another man. Then he wanted to videotape it. Then he wanted me to "entertain" his friends when they stopped by at all hours of the night.

On the surface we were the perfect couple; handsome, successful, and in love. But in actuality, by the time I was twenty-three our relationship had warped into an ungodly tryst that I just could not put up with any longer.

Michael had given me everything I could ever ask for.

Except respect.

I ran away to Italy the moment I realized what I had become. My mother died to protect me and I was whoring myself out to a man for a comfortable place to live and a seemingly fruitful career.

I vowed to stay away from him for the rest of my life. That worked for about a year. I came back from Italy a new man, or so I thought. I had studied with some of the best painter's of my time, soaked up the culture of my ancestors, and lived in the museums.

But when I got back New York, back to the real world, nothing much had changed. Sure, Ahnna had become one of the youngest cardiovascular surgeons in the country, maybe even the world. And I had made quite a name for myself in Italy and still had an astounding bit of recognition in the art scene in New York. But I could smell Michael everywhere I went, like he had just left and his cologne still lingered on the air.

He was an image burned into every experience and milestone I had in my life in that city. It was unbearable to be without him.

He came to my first exhibit. Well not my first. I must have had half a dozen with his help of course. But this was the first one I organized. By myself. The independence felt good. That is until I saw him starring me down with those dark sinister eyes.

It was all I could do to keep from having my heart explode out of my chest. I looked for an exit, anything that could keep me away from him as he made a beeline to my side. He reached me before I could bolt, grabbing a hold of my forearm tightly.

I don't think we said a word that whole night. I mean, we must have at some point. But honestly I don't remember. I just remember the melding of our bodies, the electric touch of his fingertips, the vibration of his tongue against mine.

And just like that I was back in his grasp.

But it was much different. For the next few years there were no drugs. There were no other men. There was just us; Michael and Josiah, the happy little couple.

The only thing was that with each passing day he got more and more distant. I never spoke of it directly. And neither did he. But I still, to this day, think he missed our old lifestyle. I think he longed for that danger and excitement anonymous sex, drugs, and orgies can bring to a relationship. I, on the other hand, could not have been happier to never see another twink snort a line of coke off of someone's bare ass.

I stared down at the paint I was mixing, still unsure of what I was trying to create.

Who was I to judge Michael anyway? Who was I to say this time would not be different?

Maybe he really had gotten his priorities in line, me being number one on his list finally. My mind wandered back to the key and the questions Ahnna had dropped in my head that went along with it.

Did that key really represent what I wanted it to, a lasting commitment to love and cherish only each other forever? Or was it just a pacifier to keep me happy until I get restless with our under developed relationship again?

But what was so under developed about it really? Michael worked a lot. I knew that from the beginning. That was one of the things that attracted me to him.

I had never met any of his family. Well, he had never met any of mine either except Ahnna. Granted my mother was dead and I had no idea who my father was. But still.

I had the nagging feeling that he would always be longing for something that I just could not give him. But maybe in some ways I was too. Although Michael ran very successful art galleries he was not an artist, he was a business man. He looked at my paintings with dollar signs in his eyes. I had to admit it would be nice to have someone in my life that looked at my art through the eyes of a tortured soul like mine.

As if on cue, the large red door to my loft slid open and the empty space was filled with Michael's gorgeous form.

"You should really lock your door baby," he said sliding it closed and latching it.

"Afraid someone will steal me away?"

"From me? I would never allow it."

Michael walked toward me and kissed me lightly on the lips.

"What are you working on?" he asked holding me firmly in his arms.

"Obviously nothing," I said starring up at the blank six by eight foot canvas.

"You haven't painted all day?"

I pushed away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said almost before the words had slipped from his mouth to my ear.

I ran my fingers through my long hair pulling it back at the nape of my neck with a rubber band.

"I'm assuming you haven't eaten all day as usual," he said changing the subject as he strolled into the kitchen. "I'll order us something."

"I'm going to take a shower," I said taking the stairs two at a time.

I closed the bathroom door and leaned back against it. I knew Michael had not meant anything by the off handed comment he just made, but it still hurt nonetheless. I could not remember the last time I went a full day without painting something, anything. If lack of creativity was going to join my insomnia, I was in for quite the bumpy ride.

I pushed off the door and turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it. I studied myself in the steady fogging mirror for a moment. My clear blue eyes stared back at me, droopy a bit from lack of sleep. I rubbed them with my fingers and focused back on the mirror. Was this really all that life had to offer?

I shook my head and smiled at myself despite the looming question hanging overhead. When had I become so cynical? Maybe after all these years New York was finally getting to me.

I pulled my t-shirt off and threw it in the basket I called my hamper. I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans. More often then not I had a crumpled piece of paper with a sketch I would kick myself for destroying in the wash later. This time was no different.

I tossed the paper on the counter and added my jeans to the pile of dirty clothes.

As the hot water rushed over my body, I urged my feelings of regret to wash down the drain with the soapy water. Michael was everything I ever wanted in a man. I had begged him to spend the rest of his life with me, to really let me in, and that was finally happening. So why wasn't I singing from the highest mountain top and tap dancing through the streets?

The checkered curtain of the shower opened slowly.

I ran my hands over myself dispelling the water that cascaded over my head.

"May I join you?" Michael asked stepping in behind me before I could answer.

"I guess so," I said under my breath.

His hands slid over my shoulders, rubbing them for a moment. I felt his chin rest at the nape of my neck and his strong arms embrace me.

"I really am sorry," he whispered in my ear. "The last thing I wanted to do was upset you."

I nodded, "I was just being overly sensitive."

"No," he said collecting the wet hair that trailed down my back in his hand. "I should have thought before I spoke. I swear Josiah I really am an eloquent speaker, but around you even I get tongue tied."

He tossed it over my shoulder and left a kiss between my shoulder blades.

I awkwardly turned toward him in the small shower stall and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"I can think of much better ways to use that sexy tongue," I said kissing his lips gently.

I felt them stretch in a smile against mine.

"Like?" he said between kisses.

"Do I really have to spell it out?" I asked, our erect bodies rubbing against each other.

"It's kind of small in here for that. It's kind of small in here for anything really," Michael said kissing my collar bone. "I can't wait to have you all to myself. That big apartment can get very lonely."

I laughed, "You're never even there."

"But when I do come home I want you to be waiting for me."

I put one hand on each of his shoulders, his trail of kisses stopping just short of my pecks.

"You are joking right?"

"About?"

"Me sitting in your apartment all day waiting for you."

"First of all, it is our apartment now. Second, I don't expect you to do that. I know you have other endeavors. But a man can wish can't he?"

"I guess."

"Good. I've already arranged for the movers. They'll be here tomorrow afternoon. Although I didn't really think there was much you'd want to bring with you."

I looked at him with raised eyebrows. I was genuinely taken aback by his comment.

"What?" he asked after kissing my lips and getting no response.

"I'm not moving tomorrow."

"Why not? I figured you'd want to move in as soon as possible."

"Well you figured wrong which happens when you don't run things by me."

Michael sighed.

"You know I'm a take charge kind of guy. There is no reason for you to spend one more second in this place after we agreed to move in together."

"But we did not agree to move in together. You merely gave me a key to one of three apartments you own in the city."

"You didn't seem so ungrateful last night," he said with a smile.

I grabbed the curtain and started to turn to get out of the shower. Michael placed his hand on my arm.

"Don't," he said simply. "You always run away when we disagree."

"You mean fight."

"No, I mean disagree," he said placing his arms back around my waist. "Tell me what you want."

"Really?"

"Yes. I really want to hear it. Tell me what you want and that is what we'll do."

"I do want to move in with you. I cannot remember ever not wanting to move in with you. But I need time to pack. I need time to figure out what I'm going to do with this place. I need time to paint without feeling pressured."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never gone a day without painting before. Or at least brainstorming and sketching something. This whole moving in thing is the only thing that has changed."

"So I'm throwing off your mojo?" he asked laughing.

"Of course not. But I think completely uprooting my life right now might. I have an exhibit in two months," I said my eyes sliding from his down to his firm chest. "And I have nothing."

"You always get inspired Josiah."

"I'm not so sure this time."

"Well if putting all of this on hold for a few months is what you want, you've got it. I'll just have to get used to cramped showers."

I smiled, finally meeting his eyes again.

"Do you feel better?"

"Much," I said kissing him deeply. "But I'm starving."

~~*

I steadied my plate on my lap as I reached for my glass of water sitting on the floor. Since one of my two kitchen chairs was broken and I had never really seen the need for mundane things like a sofa or other living room furniture, Michael and I were reduced to eating on my bed. Although, I couldn't really complain. The view of Michael in nothing but black boxer briefs lounging on my bed eating egg plant parmesan rivaled the view out of any picturesque window at sunset anywhere in the world.

"So tell me about this new business venture," I said placing my glass back on the floor.

Michael swiped at his mouth with a napkin.

"Actually, I decided to branch out a bit," he said excitedly. "Don't get me wrong I love what I do. I've been doing the art house thing for almost more years then I can remember and I've loved almost every second of it. But the business man in me always knew I should be diversifying, just in case. I knew I wanted to stay in an artistic vein but that can be almost anything these days. So for the last few years I've kept my ear to the ground for an opportunity that sparked my interest. Last week Sam, you remember Sam Fitzgerald?"

"I think I met him once or twice."

"Alright well Sam had the inside scoop on this company that was looking to sell. It was kind of small, kind of new, but really popular. I mean they should have been doing major business, growing their base, and making a shitload of money. The guy in charge was a complete douche though. It was like he had never seen a business model in his entire life. I swear he won the company in a card game or something."

"You are killing me Michael," I said smiling. "Tell me what it is."

"Let me finish the story," he said playfully hitting my leg. "So Sam introduces me to the guy and he's pretty much looking for a bail out at this point. I jump on it. And let me tell you it was a sweet deal."

He paused to sip his wine.

"And?" I said putting my plate aside.

"And you are in bed with the proud owner of Skorch Entertainment Ltd."

"Just tell me it's not a strip joint."

"No it's not a strip joint. It's a production company. I'll still be around artists, but an entire different group of them. It's perfect."

I had to be honest; I could never see Michael owning a production company of any sort. Maybe porn. God I hope it's not porn, I thought.

"I was thinking you could come see the space after the remodeling. I'd like to commission you to do a few paintings for the lobby and my office."

"Michael you have tons of my paintings."

"Those are my own private collection," he said kissing me softly on the lips.

I smiled, "I would be happy to paint something for you as long as you don't need it right away."

"No rush. Like I said we're still remodeling. Speaking of which I know we decided to wait a bit to move in together but I thought if you allowed it I would start looking for a space for your art studio somewhere close by."

"Closer then in the apartment?" I asked laughing. "You have five bedrooms."

"It's not a matter of space. More of tidiness. I mean look around Josiah there's paint everywhere."

"Well I'm a painter."

"I just thought it would be easier on us both if your studio were outside of the apartment."

"Like your office?"

"That's not fair."

"How so? You have two offices in your apartment."

"Our apartment."

"Really, is it? Because in my apartment I can paint at three in the morning without putting pants on and trekking across God knows where to some studio."

"I like that idea."

I glared at him.

Michael put his hands up defensively. "Not the trekking part. The no pants part."

He leaned over and kissed me firmly, probing his tongue between my lips.

I pulled back for a moment, "You know this is not over right?"

"But can it be for tonight?" he asked lying on top of me.

I could feel his firm lower body urgently pressing against mine. His arms flexed as he held himself up just high enough above me for our nipples to scrape against each other.

"Maybe," I said a little more breathlessly then I intended to. I didn't want to give in that easily.

"After all," he said, leaving kisses up and down the side of my neck, "we have the rest of our lives to argue with each other."

His tongue flicked over my ear and he took it gently between his teeth.

"You're starting to persuade me."

"I guess I'll have to try even harder," he said sliding his hand into my pajama pants. "Mmm a lot harder."

I laughed between gasps as Michael's tongue went to work on my lower half. All thoughts of deadlines, art studios, and production companies flew out of my mind. One caress from Michael was all it took. It always had, and it always would.

To be continued...

** Got inspired to revisit this story and hopefully finish it this time. Let me know what you think. bluewritergrl@yahoo.com**