"What's Love got to do with it?" By Justin
Fifth Avenue, in NYC, is a destination for upscale shopping and fine dining in Manhattan. It has a mix of high-end luxury stores, including, Floral Concepts by Alexander,' as well as, Chez André classic dining.'
Joey drove a flower delivery van for Alexander, a job he liked doing, and was good at it. He learned the borough of Manhattan, (his delivery area) seldom making a mistake. With GPS, tracking, although not always accurate, his stops became easier. Parking, however, was not easy.
"Easy," is a flawed word, applied to parking, where parking is allowed at certain times for certain vehicles. Manhattan can be a nightmare that Joey's ego didn't need.
It was the beginning of February, when a flower delivery van parked in front of Chez André, a no parking zone. It was okay for discharging gourmet patrons with impeccable taste and a healthy wallet. However, not for deliveries, driver just parked and took their chances with traffic.
"Hey, bud, you can't park there, that is a discharge zone for Chez André," said a restaurant employee.
"No kidding, tell me something new and different. You accept flowers then complain when we bring them." Joey replied, annoyed, and showing it.
The waiter had a gold nametag on his dark blue jacket. He was not friendly but florist delivery people are used to being abused, wherever they stop. They have to be quick, or get a ticket.
"I know – I know, these flowers are for the Henderson anniversary party. There aren't many spots where I can park that big ass van. I do the best I can. I am out of here in two minutes, just sign on line twenty-seven."
"Who are you mad at?"
"Everybody," grumbled Cooper, a clean cut young waiter at the restaurant. You are likely to get ticketed if a traffic officer sees you, and they don't miss much."
"I believe I just said that."
"It's a small accomplishment," Cooper replied.
Joey left, shaking his head annoyed, by a waiter. Then, he came back into the restaurant.
"Did you forget something?"
"I am wondering if you have a number where I can text you for dining information. Not the restaurant number, something more personal. Here is my profile card; I work for Alexander's Fifth Avenue Florist."
"Personal - you can contact dining reservation, I don't handle that."
"Okay – Say, I'm not perfect, but neither are you," said Joey.
"Guess what? " I don't care."
"That does kind of settle things," mumbled Joey leaving and heading back to his truck.
He assumed that Cooper was having a bad day. Joey saw an attitude, but he liked him, for some unexplained reason.
They were both gay, and apparently neither of them wanted to lower their IQ in order to understand each other.
He tossed Joey's business card in the trash basket and returned to work, so much for that. However, he thought Joey seemed to be different, and Cooper liked men being different. Twenty minutes later, he retrieved the card, tucking it into his pocket.
Cooper acquired fabulous tips by being charming and flirting with patrons. A few older women, and often a theatre queen, with more money than common sense, would take pleasure in patting his butt. He didn't mind, and would laugh, replying with a sexy masculine comment, establishing a little intrigue.
Cupid began pointing his arrow towards Valentine's Day. The flower shops were preparing for the onslaught of male customers. Men, are Valentine's primary customers, straight or gay, they buy roses.
Godiva chocolates were gift wrapped in gold edge paper with red hearts, and the restaurants were booking reservations for serious lovers who needed to make a good impression, with an expensive meal, followed by sex for dessert.
That evening, Cooper was thinking about Joey. For some bizarre reason, he wanted to know him better. He walked around in his Greenwich apartment watching snow falling against the lights of the city. He had a healthy income working on 5th avenue, so he kept the Greenwich apartment, even though it was expensive.
Cooper's record with gay men was not the best, and he looked at gay people his age as adolescents. He loved the game, but not many players. Too often, they were a little light in the loafers. He was wishing for a sweaty farm hand in a tight shirt. There is no pretty way to say it.
He read Joey's card three times, then flicked it in the air, landing next to him on the sofa. "Ah, what harm can a text message make? I'll say hello, but not getting involved. He is probably a jerk."
Hello Joey, I owe you an apology for my unprofessional attitude today. I hope Alexander's has a successful Valentine's Day.
Cooper
Cooper curled up on the sofa to watch, "The Heiress," a Turner Classic Movie on his big screen TV. He was not much of a drinker and bored most of the time, so he watched classic movies. Whoever heard of young people being bored in New York City? Well, it does happen.
His phone buzzed, and he had an immediate reply from Joey.
Cooper, "I'm surprised you remembered. I thought for sure you would throw my number away. Thanks for not doing that. It's early, would you like to go for a drink somewhere or just sit and talk. No strings."
Joey
"Where about do you live?"
"Barrow' Street in the village."
"I'm not too far from you, I live on Bleecker Street."
"Talk about fate. Would you like some company? I can be there in fifty minutes, maybe sooner."
"Sure, I would like that. The number is - - - Bleecker street, first floor, name on the bell is Cooper Brennan."
"I'm on my way, Mr. Cooper Brennan."
Time was of the essence. Cooper, flew in and out of the shower, dressed in ten minutes, and looked spotless, in less than a half hour. He put on sexy fitting clothes with no underwear. Spark plugs don't spark, when underwear is tight. Why do you suppose he would do that?
The snow was still falling and Bleecker Street was quiet, compared to summer. However, summer was a ways off, why even think of that? It was February.
The bell rang, and Cooper knew it was Joey, but still he peeked down the stairs just to make sure. He buzzed him into the vestibule and then into his apartment.
"Whoo, how different Joey looked compared to seeing him earlier. He was clean-shaven with rust colored sandy brown hair flecked with flakes of snow splattered on his cheeks. His eyes were baby brown that seemed to melt when he looked at you. His smile was something Cooper hadn't noticed before, and it was infectious. Clothes clung to his body as if they were happy to be there.
Lordy, how Cooper prized people who were different. Gays, in his opinion, were either breathy faggots, or arrogant pain in the ass queens, pretending to be classy.
Joey, a dude, seemed average, saying what he thought. Thank goodness, he retrieved that business card. This may prove to be interesting.
"Any trouble finding the place?"
"Nope, I walked. It's not that far and a cab always has somebody to drop off first. I wasn't taking a chance. I wanted to get here directly."
What one does not see on the surface, encourages a fantasy. It was such an idiotic notion, but a fantasy swarmed through Cooper's head when he came face to face with Joey. There was something shinning there, like the sun, ready to peek through the clouds.
Gaud, he thought, this guy is dynamic looking. Joey was not gorgeous, not rugged or tough, but gentle. He had a certain, "Je ne sais quoi" (something) about him, feeling completely at ease, in unfamiliar surroundings. How about sexy? Oh yeah, there was plenty of that.
Cooper, serving elegant rich food, at a classy 5th Avenue restaurant, saw Joey as scrumptious pastry; he never had before, but would love to try it. Gaud, yes, just to get his fingers sticky.
Joey followed Cooper into the kitchen where he whipped up a couple of hot chocolate drinks in the blender. Hot chocolate and snow is Mother Nature's tea and sympathy.
Their chattering was not the conversation one would expect. Nobody asked about their jobs, or how long they have been in New York, or even about the weather.
They carried their chocolate drinks into the living room and Cooper turned off the TV.
Joey sat in a large comfortable chair and Cooper sat on the sofa facing the TV screen attached to the wall. The seating arrangement wasn't ideal; it just worked out that way.
"Were you watching television? You don't have to turn it off on my account. We can watch together, if you want," said Joey, sipping his hot chocolate. "Say, this is good."
"I make it the way Chez André does, using three types of chocolate with hot water and not milk, then cream whipped until frothy, not stirred. The stunning flavor is a little piece of hard peppermint candy in each cup complimenting the chocolate. The peppermint melts away and you don't even know it is there.
"It's delicious."
"What movie were you going to watch? I mean, who cares. If you like it, I will like it," commented Joey. He moved from his chair next to Cooper on the sofa.
"Oh yeah - candy."
"What?" replied Cooper?
"You are eye candy, not the run of the mill pretty boy stuff, but the genuine masculine `tear at my heart,' thing. I noticed that when you were yelling at me for where I parked.
"I'm sorry and you are correct. I wasn't friendly to you, but that will not happen again. I'm happy you answered my text message. I didn't think you would."
"Ahh, you knew I would."
Cooper sat his cup of chocolate down on the coffee table and took Joey's hand. He squeezed it and then brought it to his mouth kissing his hand.
"Good Lord, I have never met anybody so overwhelming with such a unique way about them."
Joey slid closer to Cooper and directly into his arms. They snuggled together with Joey touching Cooper's handsome face and pressing his lips to a hungry waiting mouth.
Cooper was good-looking with a slim body and a luscious looking butt often slapped by women and gay men at the restaurant. However, strangers lucky enough to fuck him, was rare. Cooper adored sex, but on his terms.
Joey lying in his arms with his legs spread fully aroused. Good lord, what a sexy man. Cooper couldn't resist, he massaged Joey's big dick, through his clothes, watching as it grew harder and harder. They were now lying on top of one another.
"You are not wearing underwear," commented Joey.
"How do you know that?"
"That frog in your pants has free range and is moving around on my chest. Maybe I should give it a little slap.
"Maybe you should."
Their shirts came off and then their pants. Together in a dimly lit living room, they devoured one another hoping not to stain the sofa with cum.
This began an affair. Yes, affairs are special feelings. When love happens, destiny determines what is best.
"Go on a date with me. I mean a real date. How about having dinner? Asked Joey.
"Did you forget I am a waiter, all I do is spend time serving fancy dinners. You know what I would like to do – really do, and don't laugh?
"Lie around and fuck all day?"
"You're laughing."
"I am joking, I would never laugh at you. You mean much to me. Tomorrow is February 14th, and cupid just shot me in the ass with an arrow."
"I would like to have the best pizza in New York, and wash it down with Italian Lambrusco. That is what I would like," concluded Cooper.
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, then it's pizza in Little Italy, agreed Joey.
"Not quite," added Cooper. "Then it's naked in the bedroom, heavy breathing and lust."
I suppose saying they were genuine, is pretty much a common statement. However, common may be, they had a ruby and pearl hookup beginning on Valentine's Day.
In the background, Tina Turner was singing, – "What's Love Got to do with it."
The moment seemed perfect. Some affairs just blend with little effort.
"I know what love has to do with it," said Joey.
"Oh yeah, what's that?"
"Everything Cooper, – just about everything.