Pizzy ran over to greet Duane. “I thought you were bringing Tibby,” I said as he scratched my dog under her ears.

  “I was going to but Ronan wanted to walk him over to this girl’s house he’s been trying to hook up with.” He stood and smiled down at me. My fingers tingled with the need to touch him.

  “Ah, the cute dog to impress the lady routine.”

  “Something like that. She owns a Yorkie too, so it’s bound to at least get him some conversation. Something smells great.”

  I inhaled and picked up the sandalwood scent of his soap. “Yes, yes it does. Oh! You meant the meat! Sorry, I’m a goose tonight. Mr. Chamin, the director of the part I nailed today said he’d call back with a final approval within two days. Just a formality to run through the calls that had been scheduled, although God knows I’ve been to enough auditions where they fill the role and send you home before you can even strut your stuff. This Roland Chamin seems to be one of the good guys. Polite and understanding. So I’m all fluttery and silly. Don’t hold it against me.”

  He stepped close and slid an arm around my back, tugging me into his chest. My eyes rounded in pleasant surprise.

  “You did say to hold you against me, right?” His brown eyes danced with impish delight. I placed my hands to his shoulders and went to my toes, his head sliding to the right just a bit as I pressed my lips to his. I lapped at the seam of his mouth, and he opened instantly, his tongue slipping in and tangling with mine.

  “Mm, yes that was exactly what I said,” I mewled.

  He took over then, kissing me with a fire that left me weak and wanton in his arms. He cupped my ass, and I was pretty much his from that point on. Mouths sealed he lifted me higher. I wrapped my legs around him and suckled on his tongue as he walked in reverse to the sofa. Down he went with a huff, his grip on my ass so tight it almost hurt. I landed on his lap with a grunt then rotated my hips. He fisted my hair with one hand and the back of my glittery shirt with the other, pulling me closer, covering my mouth with his. My fingers roamed over his shoulders and corded neck, up into his closely cropped hair.

  We rode each other madly, pelvises gyrating, hips grinding, teeth and tongues exploring jaws and throats and ears. It was the best frottage I had ever taken part in.

  It was me, of course, that got our cocks free. “Help me,” I panted in his ear. He closed his hand around mine, and our pricks, which were now locked in each other’s grip, rubbed together as we began stroking ourselves. “Let’s see.” I pulled back a bit, so we could look down. God above, his cock was beautiful. Long and fat, lying next to my slightly thinner but just as long prick, palest ivory skin pressed against toasted coconut skin.

  “Sullivan,” he groaned then bucked up, hot cum coating our fingers. I threw my head back, baring my neck which he fell on, sucking hard as he shuddered through his orgasm. My release came quickly, the slick hot feel of his spunk easing the strokes, making them sloppier and smoother. I buried my face into his neck, whimpering his name as we pumped ourselves dry.

  “Oh hell…” I huffed against his jugular, my cock still kicking. Duane rolled his head to capture my mouth, sweeping in deep before licking at the corners then tugging on my bottom lip playfully. “Oh hell, that was lovely.”

  “I came so hard I think I threw out my back,” he teased then licked a path from my kiss-swollen lips to my Adam’s apple. “I marked you up here, babe,” he confessed, dropping a tender kiss to my throat.

  “Oh, pumpkin, you can mark me anywhere anytime you want,” I chirped, giggling like a fool as I slithered off his lap and checked the mess on my right hand. “We may want to wash up before we sit down to eat.”

  Duane gave his own hand the same kind of look. “Yeah, maybe.” He stood. I carefully zipped his jeans and he tugged my tights up as we kissed and sighed and kissed a little more. “I think I’m addicted to you.”

  “The addiction is very mutual.” I wanted to burrow into my bed with him, pulling the covers over our heads and exploring him inch by inch with my tongue. “We better eat or the roast is going to be a hockey puck.”

  “Guess we kind of had dessert before the main dish, huh?”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  “If you’re the first course I may never make it past the appetizer,” he said then kissed my lips so damned gently. Oh sweet pansies, my heart skipped several beats. This boy was worming his way into my heart in record speed. I was all about the VROOM! VROOM! of a new romance. Life was so damn good!

  *~*~*

  Work came the following day, and I was a nervous nincompoop.

  I couldn’t stop checking my texts, although Mr. Chamin had said he would call and not text. I felt like a fatty, and I was clunky and slow. Too much wine, food, and Duane last night. Today I’d been good so far, only a yogurt and an apple for breakfast and lunch was a salad from the deli across the street. Minnie had run to pick up the food for us. She was a lovely thing, skinny as a mop handle, big sad eyes, and zero flair. She reminded me of Olive Oyl, except she didn’t have the burly sailor boyfriend. The girl could tap though. Pity tap dance was dying according to the critics. It was a conversation we had on a regular basis like today as we poked forks into our chef salads while we sat on the floor of her tiny tap studio.

  “I bet if you asked Gregory Hines if tap were dead he’d tell you to go fly a kite,” Minnie said around a mouthful of lettuce.

  “Well, he would, he’s an old-style dancer.” I speared a slice of egg and shoved it into my mouth. “But…” I added, my hand in front of my mouth to cover the fact I was talking with a mouthful. “There’s been a resurgence in recent years, yes?”

  “Yes, but you’d never know it here. All the young dancers want to take your hip-hop classes.” She sighed forlornly then poked at her salad. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’ve always known I was born seventy years too late.”

  “You would have been divine beside Fred Astaire,” I said after swallowing. Minnie blushed and waved me off. “I’m serious. You’ve got such talent. Maybe you should try going to some of the calls for tap dancers. I see them all the time online. There are plays coming out filled with tapping!”

  “I don’t have the…” she faltered and blushed even redder. “Uhm, the verve that you do.”

  “It’s true. I am a dynamic little thing, but if you dug down deep I just know you’d find enough vim to match my verve.”

  We both laughed a bit, the talk drifting from her and her lack of confidence to other less personal things. When we were wrapping up, my phone sounded off in my tote resting beside me. I squeaked, fumbling the cell when I lunged at it.

  “Oh! It’s him! Look! It’s him. The producer calling to tell me I got the part!” I showed her incoming call information. She clapped silently as I cleared my throat and answered the call, my heart thudding inside my chest. “Hello, Mr. Chamin, it’s so good to hear from you.”

  I gave Minnie a wink that she reciprocated.

  “Sullivan, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we’ve given the role of Andy to someone else,” the voice in my ear said.

  My chest felt flat as if someone had parked a car on it. “But…you said…” I cleared the ball of grief from my throat. “You said I was perfect for the part. You said that you’d found the perfect Andy.”

  “Yes, I know, but someone came in after you left who was better suited.”

  “Better suited? How so?”

  Minnie’s smile had fallen from her face. I could see my sorrow reflected in my big brown eyes. Tears welled up. I dashed them away. Mr. Chamin sighed loudly, and I knew then that I was behaving quite unprofessionally.

  “I’m sorry,” I quickly said. “I was so sure I’d won the role. Thank you for letting me audition for you. It was a wonderful experience.”

  “Thank you for coming out. And Sullivan?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Try to clean up your personal life a bit. I think once you get those rumors about you under control then you’ll find more parts coming your way. You really are an incredible performer.”

  He ended the call, and I broke down. Rumors? What rumors?! Minnie scurried over to hug me. Her thin arms around my shoulders were of little comfort. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there crying but the creaking of Minnie’s door pulled me from my massive sob fest. There, in the doorway, stood Julian. He wasn’t smiling, oh no, he was quite sad. Or so he appeared. His eyes were glittering with glee though, the miserable fucker.

  “I’ve just heard from an old friend who works at the Ralph B. Jay Theater, and she overheard the producer making the sad call to you,” he said, his sugary words making me feel sick to my stomach. “What a shame. I wonder who could have spread such nasty rumors about you? Please stop by my office before you go home. We have things to discuss, you and I.”

  He waddled away. I cried even harder on Minnie’s shoulder.

  I left early that day, rushing past Julian’s lair with a blotchy face and a broken heart. My destination was Duane’s big, strong, loving arms.

  Chapter Eight

  Duane

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, but my hands were covered in dishwater. I frowned a bit, drying them on my pants before pulling out my phone. Sullivan’s name flashed on the screen. I glanced around the kitchen, found no one watching, then went to the employee bathrooms.

  “Sullivan?” I asked after shutting the door. He was sobbing on the other end. My heart immediately ached. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “Just my dreams and my pride,” he cried. I felt relieved, but not by much.

  “What’re you talking about? What happened?” I asked, his sniffling in my ear replaced with heavy sobs again.

  “Come outside. I’m at an ugly picnic table, and it smells like cigarettes, and I’m a mess, and I don’t want you to see me like this.” I was already out the back door. I found him, huddled on the far end of the picnic table, his hair falling around his face. I scooped him into my arms, sitting beside him.

  “Hey, what happened?” I asked gently, letting him cry on me. He was dressed for work. He had sent me a selfie this morning before going in.

  “I didn’t get the part, and—”

  “Woah, wait, what? I thought the guy said he had ‘found his Andy’?” I was stunned, honestly. He had been so sure he was getting that part, so what had happened to change the director’s mind?

  “I know!” he wailed, waving his hand to emphasize his distress. “But Julian told him lies about me, and I didn’t get it.”

  “Your boss?” I asked, pulling him away so I could look at his face. His eyes were red and puffy, the tissues clutched in his fingers were too wet to keep his face dry. Sullivan nodded, not meeting my eyes. “I’ll kill that motherfucker. I swear to God.” I was fucking livid. Did he not want to lose his most popular teacher? What the fuck does he gain by fucking with Sullivan’s career? My fists were clenched so hard, my nails started breaking skin. Sullivan, however, waved me off.

  “No, absolutely not. Let me handle this, please,” he sniffled, and his sad expression broke my heart. I nodded hesitantly before pulling him back into my side.

  “It’ll be okay,” I hummed into his hair. I kept rubbing his back until he stopped crying, his racking sobs reduced to sad whimpers and snuffles. I had to get back to work—it’s not like Barb would have noticed I was gone—so I told Sullivan to come over to my place tonight. We could watch a movie, get some ice cream. He broke down at the ice cream mention, weeping into my chest that it wasn’t like he needed to watch his weight for the part anymore. I scowled, glancing over my shoulder as Sonja peeked around the corner. I shook my head and she disappeared back inside.

  Work went by quickly. I’d sent Sullivan up to the bar, slipping up front and telling Dougie to put him on my tab. He’d shot me a look as a distressed twink flopped to the bar. I told Sullivan to order whatever he wanted and to wait for the few hours until I got off work and I’d walk with him. He ordered a glass of water, muttering to the bartender about the importance of hydration before ordering an appletini. When Lester showed up at three, I told him it was slow and I was clocking out a few hours early. He wished me well.

  Sullivan held my hand as we walked home in comfortable silence. I wasn’t going to pry out of fear he would bawl again. I knew I smelled like grease, but he nuzzled his head against my shoulder at every crosswalk, anyway.

  “Just a warning, this place is a shithole,” I warned him as I stuck my key into the door of my apartment. He waved his hand dismissively, mustering up a small smile.

  “Can’t be any worse than my apartment in college.” He chuckled humorlessly. I made a face as I swung the door open. He didn’t know just how destitute this place was.

  “Oi!” Ronan called from the couch, turning to look at us in surprise as Tiberius launched himself over the back of the couch. He pulled his phone out and checked the time. “You’re home early, aren’t you?”

  “Emotional emergency.” I frowned. Sullivan gave Ronan a small wave from behind my back before scooping up my dog and pressing his face into his fur as Tiberius assumed the facial assault. Ronan gave me a glance, and I motioned like I would text him later.

  “Right, well, I’ll give you two the couch.” Ronan smiled, scrambling to the ugly recliner, controller in his hand. I turned back to Sullivan as he observed my apartment in silence. Oh God, he hated it.

  “It’s charming,” he concluded, giving me a small smile. I told him he could kick his shoes off in the kitchen and I would grab a quick shower. He agreed. Ronan patted the cushions of the couch with his free hand. I rushed into my room, grabbed some clean clothes, and went to shower.

  When I got out, Ronan was explaining the basics of “Dark Souls” to him. Sullivan looked lost, but when I emerged from the bathroom, Ronan stood and handed the controller to me.

  “I gotta get ‘round for work. It was nice talking to you, mate.” Ronan bowed theatrically before grabbing his work clothes and shutting the bathroom door.

  Sullivan buried himself into my chest as soon as I sat down, his socked feet swinging up behind him, giving Tiberius a little nest to settle into. I pulled him close, pressing a small kiss to the top of his head.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m such a mess, and I just barged into your home and tore you from work.” Sullivan sighed into me.

  “Sully, it’s all right. You didn’t make me do anything. And I’m going to keep hugging you until you feel better.” His eyes crept up to mine, the first genuine smile I’d seen on him all day was playing across his lips.

  “Well, I may never be better. This ordeal may well emotionally cripple me,” he teased. I smiled and pulled him closer.

  “Then I guess I’m gonna be a hugger for the rest of my days.” I smiled into his hair, and I felt him laugh against my ribs. It was a good sound.

  Ronan left for work, bumping his fist against mine as he walked toward the door. Then we were alone. I’d let Sullivan pull up YouTube, telling him to watch whatever he wanted. He’d found Wicked on Broadway clips and was giving me commentary about the stage, the props, the costumes. That spark was back in his eyes, and even though it was hard keeping up with his words, I was happy to listen if it cheered him up.

  “C’mon,” I whispered into his ear as I pulled him from the couch. I grabbed my hoodie and gave it to him, which he eyed like it was a holy treasure. It swallowed him, but he looked incredibly happy in it. I pulled a leather jacket from my dresser, tugged it on, and slipped on my sneakers.

  “Where are we going?” Sullivan asked, watching me gather up my things.

  “Let’s go get Pizazz and have a dog date. I know a place that will give vanilla ice cream to dogs in little bowls shaped like bones.” I waggled Tiberius’ duck leash at him, which sent my dog into a spinning frenzy. Sullivan grinned from ear to ear and tucked his arm through mine as I hooked up Tibby.

  We made our way toward his apartment. It was like an estate compared to my little rathole, and even though I’d already been here once before, the interior still took my breath away. Pizazz rushed to greet us, she and Tiberius circling each other with frenzied tails, and Sullivan danced into his room. He called for me to join him.

  “My roomie is out at some art thing tonight, who knows what. Come! Help me find a good doggie date outfit!” Sullivan was already pulling clothes from his closet. I watched him as he held up shirt after shirt. I knew he would be here for another hour, so I picked a button-up with white and blue stripes, little pineapples dotting it. He apparently knew the outfit by heart after that, pulling black skinny jeans and fashionable boots from his closet. He took off my hoodie and his shirt, and I turned to give him privacy.

  “Tibs?” I called, poking my head out into the living room. I couldn’t see either of the dogs, and Pizazz was not hard to find.

  “Oh, they’re fine. They probably found some doggie toys, and they’re discussing doggie politics over a cupcake squeaky,” Sullivan called, his hands sneaking over my chest to pull me back into his room. I smiled widely, cupping his jaw in my hands and kissing him. He mewled into the kiss, running long fingers up my spine.

  “Mmm, if we keep this up, we’re not going to make it to the ice cream place,” I chastised quietly but made no move to stop kissing him. He huffed dramatically, shooting me a glare between kisses.

  “Fine.” He sighed, squeezing my left ass cheek before turning to his mirror again. As he brushed out his hair, I walked around his room, observing his assortment of goods. The walls were a calming green, tastefully decorated with bookshelves and framed musical posters. Pictures of old friends from his college days hung above his plush bed. His diploma was framed on the wall next to them.

  “Enjoying my collection?” Sullivan sang behind me. I nodded, motioning to the college chunk of his decorating.

  “Yeah. I guess I’m just jealous, actually. That you had such a good time in school and mine was so soul-crushingly miserable.” I laugh but notice Sully staring at me with sad eyes. I guess he didn’t think my education failures were as funny as I did.