I wasn't a kid. This was the age of the Internet. My naïveté was long gone. I'd gone years not knowing anything about what two men could do with each other, but one year I typed in "porn" and lost my intellectual virginity. I'd watched videos, I understood the mechanics; it was practical experience I lacked. As I lay on the floor under Tristan, I burned for him to rip my clothes off and give it to me good.
My one leg sprawled open, so I easily bent it at the knee and pressed against Tristan's hip. I found the hem of his shirt and rubbed the smooth skin of his lower back. Tristan was between my legs, and when he ran his hand down my side to my thigh and pulled, I felt his ample package nudging my crotch. I grabbed the back of his shaven head and kissed him fervently as I lifted my hips off the ground. I felt him press against my erection for a few seconds before releasing my mouth and sitting up.
"We need to stop, Grant." He was breathing hard, and his face was red and slightly sweaty. "I wasn't going to push this far."
I sat up next to him and tentatively reached out. I needed to touch him, but I was afraid he'd pull away. "It's okay. You're not pushing. I don't want you to stop."
He rubbed his head as if frustrated and then looked at me with this weird suffering expression. "I think you should go home." He moved from the floor to the couch but kept his eyes averted. "I'll call you tomorrow."
"Okay." I wasn't sure what I'd done wrong. I sat quietly and put my shoes back on, then walked over to the other chair and picked up my coat. I hesitated by the door. "Can I ask you one thing?" He did at least look at me as I asked the question. "Was my kissing okay? I don't have any experience to know, and I hope I didn't disappoint you."
Tristan dropped his head forward and mumbled, "Oh, Grant." He stood up and gestured to the crotch of his jeans. "This is what your kissing did to me."
I saw the wet spot near his zipper. "You came?"
He grinned and shook his head. "No. It's precome. I don't wear underwear, so it looks worse than it really is. My point is that your kissing is just fine. I didn't want to stop."
"Then … why did you?" I hated asking, but I had thought the date was going so well.
Tristan joined me by the door and caressed my cheek. He explained, "Because I wanted to prove to myself I could have a relationship with a man not based on sex."
"Even if I want the sex?" I did sound pitiful, and I hoped he wouldn't think me terribly immature for whining.
He smirked. "Even if you want the sex. I told you at dinner that I'm looking to settle down. Maybe not tomorrow, but dating you-for me-isn't casual. Deep down in my gut I can tell there's something special about you, and I want to spend time with you. If you're not looking for a long-term relationship, then this won't work."
"No-yeah, I get that. I've never wanted to play the field or date loads of guys. I've wanted someone special too. Ask Mel! All I talk about is meeting Mr. Right and settling down. I've been hoping that waiting so long to have sex would be worth it. Ya know? Like maybe it was fate telling me my first time needed to be special."
"Precisely. I think you're special. So I didn't want to rush things between us sexually, because I thought there would be plenty of time later."
I pointed to the couch. "And that's why you stopped whatever was going to happen just now."
"Yeah. Go home. I'll call you tomorrow, and we can talk." He kissed me softly. "I care about you, Grant."
I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't say anything. I slipped through the door without more confusion. Tristan liked me a whole lot more than I expected. He wasn't kicking me out for good, and he most definitely wanted to see me again. Hands down, it was the best date ever!
I got in my car and turned the key. The engine made a strained sound. I tried again. It groaned. One more turn of the key and the engine made a click and then nothing. I slumped forward on the steering wheel. "Tristan's never going to believe me," I groaned. I got out of my car and knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again. I remembered he said he never locked the door, so I turned the knob.
I peeked into the house. All the lights were still on, but Tristan was nowhere to be seen. "Tristan?" I called, but he didn't reply. I walked slowly through the living room and entered the bedroom, unsure of how he'd react. "Tristan?" I saw a light from the bathroom door. I stepped closer and heard a grunt and a heavy sigh. It was probably the sound I thought it was, so I gulped, steadied my nerves, and knocked on the door. "Tristan?"
He yanked the door open. "Grant?" He seemed surprised and then squinted his eyes. "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.
I felt so foolish I hung my head. "Um, my car won't start."
There was a pause, and then Tristan snickered under his breath. "You're kidding."
I lifted my eyes to meet his. "No!" I exclaimed. "I don't know anything about cars, but mine won't turn over."
The mirth faded, and he asked, "Does it click? Or does it sound like the engine won't quite start?"
"When I got in, it sounded strained. Then it clicked. Now I got nothing." I apologized, "I'm sorry. I tried a few times, but it won't do anything. I didn't want to bother you, but … ."
I guess he could tell I wasn't lying. He placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "Calm down, Grant. It's all right. As much as I'd love to go out at midnight and use a flashlight to figure out what's wrong, I think I'm going to pass. You can stay here tonight."
"Are you sure?" I asked, thinly veiling my excitement.
"Yeah, it's fine. I'll just find you a blanket for the couch." He walked over to a closet and took out a fuzzy blue blanket.
"Couch?" I asked, letting my shoulders slump.
He lifted his eyebrow and smirked. "You didn't think you'd get to sleep in my bed, did you?"
I shrugged. My disdain for sleeping on couches dated back to when I was ten and used to go to my grandmother's house. Her couch was awful. Even as a little kid, my back would end up sore by morning. I'd avoided sleeping on couches ever since, even my own. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about sleeping arrangements when I walked in here. This situation just sort of happened, but your couch seems awfully short for me to sleep on."
He opened his mouth, probably to counter my argument, and then decided against it. "Fine. You're right, it's small. It's actually a loveseat, but I never call it that when people come over."
"I thought you didn't have much company here."
"I don't. Look, you can sleep here, but we're not having sex. Remember that." He pointed at me for emphasis and then put the fuzzy blanket back in the closet. "Do you want something to sleep in? My shirts might be too big, but I have a pair of shorts with a drawstring I think will fit you." Tristan walked over to the bed and turned down the comforter.
"No. I'm fine. I have a white T-shirt under my dress shirt, and I normally sleep in boxers." I stood on the opposite side of the bed, unsure when to disrobe. The situation grew more uncomfortable as time ticked. Did I jump right in? Should I ask for a toothbrush? I'd never slept with anyone, except one night when Mel and I were playing video games years ago and had fallen asleep on his floor in front of the television.
"Grant? Hello?" Tristan waved a hand as if they were in front of my eyes, even though he was across the room. "Do you need anything? You can have one of the new toothbrushes under the sink. There was a sale, and I tend to go through them." I gave him a look, and he explained, "They're really good for cleaning small parts and detailing."
"Oh. Um, okay, thanks." I awkwardly remained planted in my spot next to the bed. Initially, I had been charged with energy. The prospect of sleeping with him exhilarated me. But now I realized I barely knew him. I was about to sleep next to a strange man who might live alone because he strangled his lovers in their sleep. What if I wake up and I'm tied to the bed? What if he has a closet full of sex toys and really does own a whip?
"Grant?" I turned toward his voice, right next to me, and swallowed hard. "Shhh," Tristan soothed, gliding his fingers down my cheek. He leaned in and kissed me softly. "You don't need to be terrified-unless you had a weird dating experience involving a slumber party."