Corbusier

by Biscuit

Chapter 3

Colin showed up as if he sensed I was struggling

to banish him from my mind and wasn't going to

let that happen.

Billie Holliday was playing in my mom's studio.

Never a good sign, but at least it wasn't blasting.

It was the third Saturday in a row that I didn't

know what to do with myself. Megan wouldn't be

showing up at my door, prying me out into the

world. She wouldn't be calling to see what we

were going to do.

Thanksgiving had passed. Me, my mom and my

grandmother had gone out to dinner and stuffed

ourselves. The holiday was like a big wasteland to

me without Megan.

She fucking hated me. As far as she was concerned

I was the biggest chickenshit asshole in the world.

She said I'd not only humiliated her, cheated on her,

but that I'd done the one thing that she couldn't

forgive -- which was totally shut her out.

"You couldn't just tell me. I had to find out from

fucking Marisa Conolly that my boyfriend's

giving blowjobs in the bathrooms!"

She was so mad she could hardly look at me without

spitting fire. My lame defense -- I only did it once.

At that I thought she'd strangle me. If she'd known

about Colin Daley she probably would have ended

my life on the spot and called it a mercy killing.

Before she stormed out of my house she said "fuck

you," to me like I'd never heard it said in my life.

Like it was ripping right out of her heart.

Within a week she'd started dating a guy in our oils

class, Todd Mackey. I should have known she was

only doing it to hurt me, to protect herself. He'd

been panting after her for a long time and she'd never

even liked him. It killed me to see him put his hands

on her, right in front of my face. Maybe it doesn't

make sense, but whatever I was, I missed touching her,

being with her, seeing her look happy just because I'd

walked into a room.

And what had I traded that for? I didn't want Chad

Grossman, that's for sure. He was being kind of

sheepishly nice to me. He apologized for letting the

proverbial cat out of the bag and even tried to get

me to hang out with him. But we were no more

into being friends than we ever had been. We had

about zero in common with each other beyond our

hard dicks. He and I weren't going to go to thrift

shops together looking for clothes and jewelry, or

get high and make out in the park.

Yeah, right, making out in the park. Don't even

think about that. Which of course I did, just about

a million times a day; Colin Daley. I'd fucked up

my life over a guy I didn't even know, a guy who

didn't want to know me. For all that every kid in

three grades thought I was having sex like crazy

in the bathrooms, I was getting exactly nothing but

real familiar with my right hand. If a guy at school

even looked at me I panicked.

So let the Billie Holliday records spin. At least my

mom was painting which was more than I was doing,

lying on my bed hour after hour, feeling sorry for

myself, swearing I wouldn't even let myself think

about Colin Daley when I jerked off anymore.

That particular Saturday, I think my body finally

rebelled against doing nothing. I was sitting at the

drawing table in my bedroom, facing the glass wall,

a sketch in front of me. I'd done more sketches of

the maple tree in the garden outside my bedroom

than you can imagine. I'd been drawing pictures of

that tree since I first picked up a fat crayon as a six

year-old.

Taped across the top of my table were pen and ink

drawings of the roots. It was a project for one of

my classes, a stupid texture exercise, using different

small shapes to create the patterns of dark and light

in a series of renderings of one subject. It suited my

mood, anyway, to sit there making tiny repetitive

shapes in black ink.

That's when Colin Daley appeared on top of the

garden wall. I heard the noise, a muffled scuffling

like a squirrel clamoring up the vines and glanced

outside. There he was. He'd swung himself up

and was sitting on the top of the wall.

The wall was only about five feet high. He didn't

come over it. He was just sitting up there with

his legs hanging over, brushing off his hands and

looking right in at me. I was about to drip a big

blob of India ink right in the middle of my so

carefully rendered roots, staring back.

Fuck. I put down the pen and went to the window.

It was set in the other outside wall and I couldn't

see him from there, but I called out.

"What are you doing out there?"

"Why don't you answer your fucking doorbell?"

Maybe the Billie Holliday volume had snuck up, I

hadn't heard anything. Holy fuck he's here, I

thought, my brain and body starting to churn.

"I'll meet you at the door," I yelled out.

Colin Daley had come back and I hadn't cut my

hair yet or gotten any older. What the fuck, I hadn't

even taken a shower and I was dressed in nothing

but sweats and the tee-shirt I'd slept in. Nothing to

do about that. He'd already seen me. Well, fuck

him, I wasn't going to let him touch me anyway.

Was I?

Shit, my mom. Her studio went quiet just as I

was heading for the front door, and she was

looking down over the railing to see what was

up.

"Is Megan here?" she called down to me.

Her studio, well I keep calling it that even though

supposedly we shared it. I never used it when she

was like she'd been since, well for almost a month

and a half. It was set at the top of the stairs to the

second floor. Open on two sides overlooking the

living room and part of the kitchen.

My mom wasn't happy about what was happening

between me and Megan. I'd told her that Megan

was seeing a new guy but I hadn't told her why.

She was on my ass about it all the time, although

she said she didn't necessarily think it was a bad

thing for Megan to see somebody else. It was

weird. She was half protective of me, and half

protective of Megan. She suspected me of doing

something fucked up to make Megan want to see

somebody else. And she was right.

"No, it's not Megan," I said, hoping she'd start up

her next Billie Holliday tape and go back to work.

But she was standing right there watching as I let

him in the front door.

He looked incredible. Like a dream come true,

standing in the doorway in his tight jeans. He was

better looking than I even remembered, like I'd

dimmed him down in my mind. He was wearing a

Knick's sweatshirt that looked worn and soft and

rode his hips under his leather jacket. Colin had a

grin that was a little lopsided. His teeth weren't

exactly even, which is something I find really sexy,

a little prominent canine tooth gave his pretty

mouth an almost sneer.

She was looking down, her arms across her chest.

He was looking up at her with his hands on his hips.

Both of them had their heads cocked to the side

and all I could think was that she knew everything,

just looking at him.

"Mom, this is Colin." The guy I punched. The

guy I fucked.

"You guys want some lunch or something?" she

asked. Jesus. What a time to get maternal on me.

"No thanks, we're going out soon." I started away

toward my room and prayed that he'd follow me.

I knew I'd have questions to answer later, depending

on how much wine went down up in the studio, but

I wasn't going to stand there and explain him to her.

The relief of getting behind the closed door of my

bedroom almost sent a shudder through me. Or was it

just being alone with him? I'd walked in fast, keeping

a distance so that thing couldn't happen like last time

where he just grabbed me.

But my body was remembering what it was I was

avoiding, and when I did turn around my dick was

already stirring. I crossed my arms over my chest,

kind of like my mom had, but I was doing it to

hide the tightness I could feel in my nipples.

"What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?"

God help me. I'd been jerking off to the memory

of him for more than a month; dreaming about

sucking his dick. Remembering fucking him.

Now he was dropping his jacket over the back of

the chair at my drawing table, glancing at the

sketches.

"Nice," he said. Jesus, he was stepping out of his

shoes and when he turned toward me I could see

his cock was hard, a thick ridge climbing up his

hip. And he saw me looking. Then he was right

in front of me, raking his fingertips up the backs

of my arms into the sleeves of my tee-shirt. It

sent up waves of goose bumps that met like a crash

of shivers at the back of my neck. Oh man. My

head dropped back and I grabbed him.

It felt every bit as good as I remembered, his lips

on mine, his tongue moving in my mouth. I was

rubbing my dick into the hard bulge in his jeans

and I could feel the juice starting up out of me.

Billie Holliday was singing again and Colin's hands

were down the back of my sweats, curving around

my bare ass. He had a cheek in each hand and was

pulling me tight to his crotch. I could have come

right then in my pants if he'd kept that up. But he

pushed me away from him a little, holding me at

arm's length, looking at me. So gorgeous. His

cheeks were pinked up and his mouth was shiny

and his eyes were doing a slow pan of my front.

"Miss me, princess?"

What was I going to say, standing there with my

sweatpants stuck on my throbbing boner, breathing

like I couldn't get enough air in my lungs. Why did

he have to stop kissing me -- it was so much easier

when we were just joined at the mouth. I felt like

he wanted to humiliate me, making me say it. But

I said it.

"Yes." One simple word and I could feel the blush

in my face, the miserable pout shaping my mouth.

He smiled.

I didn't know then that he had more than a nodding

acquaintance with the wall outside my bedroom. I

didn't know he'd been haunting the grove where he

first saw me in the park, hoping I'd show up. As far

as I knew, he'd just gotten the urge to fuck me again

and shown up, confident that he could waltz right in

and do it. And he could.

"Mom's not gonna walk in, is she?" he asked. He let

go of my shoulders and took hold of the bottom of my

tee-shirt, lifting it up over my head. He dropped it

on the floor. He slid his hands over my pecs and I

had to bite my lip to stay quiet. "Is she?" he said.

I shook my head. She never just walked in my room.

My hands were almost shaking, reaching for the

top button of his jeans. I wanted him naked.

Colin only stopped me from pulling his pants down

his hips long enough to get the condom out of his

pocket.

I knew, even if my mom had never barged into my

room, that it wasn't the smartest thing in the world

to be doing what I was doing but I couldn't stop.

I was on my knees on the floor, my face pressed

up to his cock through the warm fabric of his briefs.

I was rubbing my lips on him, trying to fill myself

up with the smell of his body. Sliding my fingers

into the waistband of his underwear was about the

most exciting thing I'd ever done. It was so good

I wanted to hurry, like I had to get to everything I

wanted to do, but at the same time I was already

anxious, trying not to rush, thinking about how he

was going to take off again as soon as we were done.

His dick was so hard I had to pull it down to get

it in my mouth. He tasted a little soapy but there

was a tang to the flavor of the pink head that felt

so smooth in my mouth. I rubbed my tongue against

his slit to taste him and he made a noise that sent a

huge rush to my dick.

A condom wasn't the only thing he'd taken out

of his pocket. He had a small tube of lube, too. He

said it would feel better to use it and he was right.

Not that I didn't want to fuck, I did. But even

though I knew I'd liked it, the part I really did

remember, when the time came to do it again, was

how much it had hurt at the beginning.

On my back with my legs spread, my knees hooked

over my arms, so wide open, I got this pang of

shame. I mean, it was my ass I was showing off, how

could he want to be looking at that? Until he started

rubbing that cool wet stuff into me. The cold feel of

it around his warm finger and his icy eyes looking

down at me, like he was dying to fuck me, made me

feel like my ass was beautiful, that it was sexy.

If only he wasn't going to look at me a whole other

way afterwards. I told myself it didn't matter. So what

if he took off, at least he had come back. Another part

of me, dumb and hopeful, was thinking that maybe he

wouldn't run off so fast, act so indifferent, this time.

Pretty soon I wasn't thinking much of anything but,

fuck me. It did still hurt going in, but not like the last

time. And then it was so good. That feeling of being

stuffed turning into being full and stroked. I still

didn't know what made it feel so good but I kept

wanting it over and over, I couldn't get enough of it.

And then his hand, sticky and wet with lube, closed

around my dick and started pumping. It was too good,

like one too many plugs got plugged in and I shot into

overload, spurting cream like a can of Reddi-whip.

My legs felt like they were never going to straighten

out again and my ass felt wide open and soaked. Colin

had fallen off to the side of me and that's when I

heard my mom tap on the door and realized I wasn't

hearing Billie Holliday anymore.

"Corby?"

"Yeah mom, don't, don't come in, okay." Oh God.

When had the music stopped? How long had she been

out there?

"Janice is here. We're going downtown. Do you want

to go?" What the fuck, she never asked me to go with

her and Janice.

"No. I'll see you later."

"Everything okay?" Jesus, she must have heard us.

What did she think? I forced myself not to panic.

"Everything's fine." God, I could feel her wanting

to open that door and see for herself.

"All right, sweetie," she said finally and I breathed.

"I won't be home late."

My legs were finally flat on the bed and I groaned,

covering my face with my hands. So close. My

heart was taking its time slowing down to normal.

Right then, Colin Daley could have disappeared

altogether and I'd have thanked God. But he didn't.

And the minute I felt him take hold of my wrist,

pushing my hand away from my face, I was so glad

he was there. What a face he had, and just then it

was like seeing him in the park, him looking back at

me as if my face looked just as good to him. He

started kissing me. Our lips were swollen and his

tongue felt different, like it was at home in my

mouth, like we'd swapped so much spit that we

tasted the same.

He was rubbing the cum on my stomach. I felt

him raking it through my pubes, and he wound his

hand around my soft cock. Damn if it didn't twitch

like it wanted to get hard again. He grinned in the

middle of a kiss, pulling back when he felt me

starting to get stiff in his hand.

I couldn't believe it when he slid down and started

sucking me. It was nothing like getting blown in

the bathroom at school. The one had felt really

good, but this was something else. This was him,

wanting my dick in his mouth, not just two guys

who were horny trading blowjobs. This was Colin

Daley washing my balls with his tongue and eating

my cock like it was dessert. And when I said I

was going to shoot he just sucked harder.

He did leave after that. Me, like the dead, hearing

him in the bathroom, washing up. He came out

dressed, his face looking scrubbed, his hair a little

damp at the edges.

"What," I said as he put his jacket on, "you're not

going to tell me to get my hair cut." What I said

didn't matter, it still came out sounding like I was

dying because he was leaving. And I was.

"I already told you that," he said. But he did pause

and walk over to the bed. "Come on," he said, just

waiting next to the bed. "Sit your ass up and kiss

me. You know you want to." I'm sure my face was

as sullen as it felt, but I did it. I sat up and he leaned

down and kissed me. He tasted like my toothpaste

and I figured he must have helped himself to my

toothbrush. God, I was shameless. I put my arms

around his neck and tried to hang on. He just

peeled them off. "Okay then. I've got to go."

"How come?" I might as well have taken a shovel

and started digging my grave. I saw that look

coming over him, like the time before. Like he

might have made the biggest mistake in the world

by fucking me.

"It's called work, princess. Some people have to

do it to live." It was no answer. Not really. I mean

he could have had a job and still asked me for my

phone number or given me his. He could have said

he'd see me again. No answer but it was a clue to the

answer.

Colin Daley didn't see any way to fit me into his life.

I'd figure that out, eventually. He wanted me. As

much as I wanted him. More, to hear him tell it,

when the time finally came he was honest with me.

NEXT

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