Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

I insisted that the affair end as a condition of our marriage continuing. I moved into my office while Juan decided what he wanted to do. As days passed, I became concerned he was going to choose Cody. As more days passed, I stopped caring. I adjust and move forward. At first, I could not imagine life without Juan and our family. Before too much time had passed, I started looking forward to it.

I arrived home from work the second Friday after the threesome to an empty house. There was no Juan, no Andres, and no Camilo. I was starting to panic when I found a note taped to my side of the bathroom mirror:

Mace:

Of course, I choose you.

I have not seen Cody since you asked me to stop. I am sorry it has taken me so long to let you know, but I was too ashamed. You gave me an inch, and I took a mile. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but there was a thrill in doing the forbidden. As you know, I love that thrill.

I am so sorry. I never want to see the look I saw on your face that night. It killed me to know I was responsible for it.

Please forgive me,

Your Puta

P.S. I know it is hard to think things through when life continues all around you, so I have taken the boys for the weekend to give you the time and the space you need to think.

I grabbed my phone and emailed Juan as soon as I could: "Of course I forgive you. Please come home. I don't need time. I need to snuggle under a blanket with my boys, including My Puta."

Juan promised to abide by the rules, and he never spoke of or, to my knowledge, saw Cody again. When Juan cast him aside, he stopped volunteering.

I did, however, borrow some of Cody's moves. I saw how much Juan enjoyed how Cody treated him, and I tried to emulate the dominance and indifference that Cody had shown Juan while I was fucking him.

Two years later, I ate my words and my judgment. My firm had a summer associate who was delectable, and I could not stop thinking about him. His name was Jayesh, he was from India, and he could have been the star of Life of Pi. In fact, he should have been the star. He was better looking than Suraj Sharma. It sounds trite and rings hollow, but he had the face of innocence and the bright eyes and smile of wonder. His smile was the essence of joyous.

I took Jayesh to lunch his first Friday at the firm. It was against the rules to do so, but I ordered a vodka and encouraged him to order one, too. He did. When that one was gone, we ordered another. And another.

Instead of returning to the office, we went to a matinee showing of Pixar's Ratatouille. I pressed my arm against Jayesh's in the dark.

When the movie ended, I wanted the day to go on. Jayesh begged off, and I headed home.

On Monday, he was in my office first thing. "Are you free for lunch today?"

"Sure," I answered.

At lunch, we exchanged what, for us, amounted to witty repartee. "You know," he offered, "some people call me the brown Brad Pitt."

"Really? Do those people have sense and their sensibilities?"

"Well, actually, I call myself that. But, then others say 'did you just call yourself the brown Brad Pitt?' I count that as them calling me the brown Brad Pitt."

"It's easier to get compliments if you reinterpret what others say . . . . What do they really call you? Jay?"

"I embarrassed to admit it, but all my friends call me 'Slumdog' or 'Dog' for short."

"Wow," I answered, dumbfounded. "I can't do that. What shall I call you?"

"Let's throw caution to the wind. You can call me Jayesh."

"I can do that. And, you can call me Mace. I've already grown weary of Mr. Davis."

"Shall I call you Mace because you will burn my eyes?" He asked, pleased with himself.

"No, because my name is Mason, and everyone calls me Mace for short."

"Then you should call me Jay. No one else does. It can be your name for me, for short."

We sat in an awkward silence. He broke it.

"Are you gay, Mace?"

"I am."

"Me, too. Are you taken?"

"I am."

"I'm not. Is your 'taken' negotiable?"

"I have some latitude," I admitted, feeling a little giddy.

"I've never liked longitude," he said, reminding me of fourth grade and maps. "But, I just fell head over heals for like latitude." He stood up and held his hand out to me, inviting me to leave.

"I'll pay the check and meet you at the door," I offered, avoiding his hand.

As we walked, I asked "Where are we going?"

"I chose this restaurant because my sublet is just down the block. I was hoping you were gay and free. I'll take gay and latitude."

We walked on in silence. With every step, I made inner bargains and salved myself with rationalizations. I won't go in. I'll go in just to look around. I'll just kiss him. I'll just let him blow me. I'll just fuck him and not kiss him. It'll just be this once. Juan owes me this. I deserve this. This isn't as bad as what he did and does.

The bargains were illusory and the rationalizations were thinner than carnival lemonade. As soon as Jay closed the door to his apartment, he pushed me back against it and started tugging at my belt and zipper.

"Hey, hey, hey," I said. "Slow down."

"I'm 24 years old," he said. "I don't like to go slow."

"Slowly," I corrected him.

"This isn't a grammar lesson, Mr. Davis," he answered, wounding me with the "Mister Davis."

I scolded him with my eyes. "I'm sorry. This isn't a grammar lesson, Mace." My familiar name sounded lovely in his slight British accident.

He didn't go slowly. Before we had kissed, he had me in his mouth. He knew how to suck dick, taking me deeply, lapping at me with his tongue, and alternating the rhythm. I came faster than I expected. He ignored my warning. He tasted my cum before he tasted my saliva.

I returned the favor. I pulled him up by his armpits and moved him to his sofa. When he was seated, I opened his zipper, and released him from his suit pants. His dick was average in size, but I liked the coloring. It was darker than the rest of him, and the head was bright pink. I sucked him like I meant it. I was surprised when he came. I had felt no tension, and I had heard no gasping or other noises to warn me. It seemed to come from nowhere. His load was small, but sweet, tasting a little like cardamom.

We laid on his couch and kissed, my suit pants around my ankles, and his open at the crotch. I fell asleep. When I awoke, I was thirsty. I decided to drink Jay.

I stood him up. I started licking him as I undressed him. I licked his clavicle, his shoulders, his chest, and his armpits. He was lean, but not muscular. He was built like a runner or some other athlete who had no body fat and minimal muscle definition.

I was relentless. I licked the tast of him, and I tasted every inch of him, trying to get him as riled as I could. When I had him naked and thought I had driven him to the edge, I took him back in my mouth.

"Not that, Mace" I heard him whisper, huskily. "I want you to fuck me instead."

"I don't have a condom."

"I don't care."

"I do. We'll have to save that for next time."

I proved my bargains not to be bargains at all. As I expected, I was going to break the rules. I was going to repeat.

I had Jay sit back down, and I took him into my mouth again. While I did, I raised his legs and laid them over my shoulders, exposing him as much as I could. I circled his anus with my forefinger as I worked my mouth and tongue over his dick and balls. When I felt him open up, I drove my forefinger in. I easily found his prostate and started to work it over. Jay cried out as he tensed and filled my mouth. I kept sucking him until he could not take any more sucking. Then I swallowed his cum. Cardamom again.