Freedom to Choose Page 2

  I turned to look at him. He was cute, I would give him that. His dark hair was shaggy and he was clean shaven. If it weren’t for conversation, I wouldn’t peg him for gay at all.

  “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

  He squinted his eyes at me, “Hmm, should I?”

  I shook my head, “No, of course not. Excuse me.” I brushed past him, but he caught my arm. As I turned back to protest, a camera flash went off in my face.

  He wiggled the cell phone at me, “Alright, I’ll find out who you are. Then I’ll probably have to assume I was a total ass right now, and I’ll need to apologize. How about your phone number so I can say I’m sorry when the time comes?”

  “I’m not gay,” I shook my head.

  “Never said you were,” he shrugged, holding out his phone to me for me to input my phone number.

  I nodded, taking the phone from him. Against my better judgment, I put in my cell phone number.

  “I’ll call you in a couple days. It’ll probably take me that long to figure it out, I’m sure.”

  I didn’t answer, handing him the phone back. He watched me with curious interest as I walked away. I couldn’t help but pause as I passed the window outside on my way to my next little haunt. He was still watching me, and gave me a little wave. I felt the blush creep up my face before I scurried away as quickly as I could without looking suspicious.

  It was only a couple of hours before he called me.

  “I am such an asshole,” he sighed when I answered. “Why didn’t you say you were Samantha Corner’s son?”

  “Well, you didn’t give me the opening,” I leaned back in my chair at my desk, back in my dorm room. I had a girl between my knees. She had looked up curiously when I had actually answered the phone.

  “Still, I am a total asshole. I mean, going on about your Mom’s books –you must get hit on all the time.”

  “It’s alright,” I put my hand on top of the girl’s head. “Look, I’m busy right now. Can you call back later if you really feel the need to continue this discussion?”

  “Oh, yeah. Of course.” There was a pause. “Is there a better time?”

  “Give me a half-hour or so.”

  “Alright. I’ll talk to you then.”

  After I hung up, tossing my phone back onto the table, I let the girl finish me off. I felt bad that I didn’t exactly remember her name. She lived down the hall and like all of the others, was a fan of my Mom. As far as I could tell, she liked being able to say that she blew the son of a homoerotic writer.

  “Should I come back later,” She asked as I was subtly pushing her towards the door. “Maybe something more than a blow job next time?” She raised an eyebrow.

  I smirked, “It’s alright. Thanks for the offer.” I managed to push her out into the hall way and managed to close the door before she could try and wedge her way back in. I sat back down in my chair, ignoring her knocking on the door. My phone rang, as if on cue.

  “I want to take you out,” There wasn’t even a hello from him.

  “I already told you, I’m not gay.”

  “Again, I never said that you were. I said I want to take you out. For dinner. To apologize for being an idiot.”

  “That’s not necessary. It happens more than you think.”

  “But it doesn’t happen to me. Please. Let me take you out tonight.”

  “Why don’t you start by telling me your name?” I countered.

  “Ah fuck! I am an idiot! I’m sorry.” I couldn’t help but be kind of attracted to his quick attitude. “I’m Devin Jonas, I’m a creative writing major.”

  “Well, Devin Jonas, I’m sorry but I’m not interested.”

  “I’m not asking you out on a date, Patrick Corner,” he chided. “I’m asking you out for an apology dinner.”

  “You know what would be better than a dinner?” I suggested.

  “...Is this something naughty?” He asked.

  “What makes you ask that?”

  “I detect this tone in your voice that tells me you’re going to ask me to come over and do something dirty with you. Am I wrong?”

  “Very,” I nodded. “I’m a visual arts major. I’d like to paint you for my human form class. I think this project would be best if I did it with a stranger.”

  “Of course,” he sounded kind of excited. “Is that really okay though?

  “Yeah, it would be a big help. There is one stipulation.”

  “Okay?”

  “It’s a nude portrait. You don’t have to be totally nude of course, I don’t have to see everything. But it is helpful.”

  “Okay,” the detection of excitement was still there. “I’d love to do it. It’s the least I could do after being such an idiot. Where and when do you want me?”

  “Are you free tonight? I want to get started on it. I’ve been putting it off.”

  “Of course.”

  “Alright, I live in Putnam Hall, three-fourteen. We can do it in my room. Seven o’clock okay?”

  “Sure.” There was a pause while he wrote the information down. “I look forward to it.”

  “I’ll see you then,” I smiled. “Thanks for your help.”

  At six thirty, I set up my easel in front of the couch and started arranging my paints. I was checking my brushes when there was a brief knock on the door.

  I opened the door to Devin, who was looking as cute as he had in the bookstore. He was sporting a five o’clock shadow now, but it looked good on him. I tried not to let my eyes trail down and mentally undress him.

  “Hey,” I stepped back to usher him in. “Thanks for doing this. It’s a big favor.”

  “Not a problem,” he started shrugging out of his jacket. “So, where do you want me?”

  “On the couch would be fine,” I went to my desk, pulling out my trusty sketching pencils. “Um, you can take off your clothes and put them on the desk. There’s a blanket there if you want to cover up.

  “Why would I want to do that?” He asked. I heard a rustle of clothes as he stripped. You’re not the first guy to see me naked you know.”

  “I didn’t figure I was,” I shrugged. I pulled my stool behind the canvas, looking out over my scene. He made himself comfortable on the couch.

  “How’s this?”

  I tilted my head. I liked the way the light was reflecting, but his features weren’t standing out enough. “Do you mind a little make-up?”

  “Make-up?” He raised an eyebrow.

  I nodded, getting up to open my cosmetics drawer I had collected from my years in drama. “Not too much, I promise.”

  “C’mon, I’m gay. I don’t mind a little make up,” he rolled his eyes before watching me pull out some things from the drawer. I tried not to look down, away from his face, as I approached him with the eyeliner and lipstick.

  “Close your eyes,” I requested. I knelt on the corner of the couch. I couldn’t help but touch his face. “Okay, you can open them.” His pooling eyes were eerily enhanced with the dark eyeliner. I didn’t say anything as I rubbed the lipstick on my thumb before brushing it across his bottom lip. “This might hurt.“ I pinched his mouth and he groaned.

  “Ow! What was that for?”

  “Color,” I shrugged. I rubbed my thumb against his lips some more, tilting my head to look at his face. There was still something missing. I got up again and grabbed a can of hairspray.

  “Hey, whoa,” he stopped me before I could even uncap it. “What the hell?”

  “I don’t like your hair. It’s too flat.”

  “Flat?”

  “Yeah. It needs volume.” I took my hands away from him, and sprayed his head liberally with the spray before pulling my fingers through it. I twisted a few locks of it between my fingers before I stepped back. It was better. Maybe not the best, but it was good enough. I put the make-up and the hairspray away before wiping the lipstick off my hand with a towel.

  “Are you always cold to your models?” He asked.

  “Would you mind n
ot talking? I’m starting now,” I picked out a sharp pencil and started to sketch. “You can talk once I finish the preliminary sketch.”

  He nodded, kicking back on the couch. I tried not to take notice of how he was almost purposely spreading his thighs. As I did the rough sketch, I was purposely ignoring his ‘equipment’. After a half-hour or so, it was pretty hard to find other ways to occupy myself, so I gave in and looked. I was very surprised to find that he was uncut. Not surprising was his lack of pubic hair. Like the other guys I had come into contact with, he most likely shaved. I wasn’t sure why, but I had always had a severe distaste for baldness ‘down here’. Even on the girls I had slept with. I mean, unkempt was disgusting too, but being completely barren of hair was immature and unnatural.I kept the thought to myself as I sketched.

  “How’s it coming?”

  “A few more minutes,” I insisted. “Then you can talk all you want.

  He sighed, turning his head to look out of the partly opened blinds. My room overlooked a barren lot so I wasn’t too concerned about anyone looking in my window. I looked at him for a moment, my pencil stopping mid-line. The pencil dropped from my hand immediately and I leaned over to grab my digital camera from the bookshelf. Luckily he didn’t turn until after the flash had gone off.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Stop moving. Turn back to the window,” I shook my head. I fiddled with my settings as he hesitantly turned back. “Goddamn, that’s perfect. I’m sorry.” I put the camera down, sitting back down with my pencils again. “I couldn’t help myself, I guess.” I averted my eyes from him as I finished the sketch. “Okay, you can move around a bit now, if you want. I’ve got the basic sketch.”

  “Good,” he sighed, stretching his arms above his head. “Man, staying still is harder then it sounds.”

  I didn’t answer as I started to uncap paints, mixing colors on my trusty Styrofoam plate.

  “So, you didn’t answer me before. Are you always so cold to your models?”

  “I’m not being cold,” I countered. “Trust me, if I were being cold to you, you would know.”

  “Oh, I dunno. It feels pretty chilly to me.”

  “Yeah, I can tell.” I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face. He dropped his mouth open before looking down.

  “Goddamn, I am not small!” He retorted. “In fact, this is kind of turning me on. You’re just teasing me.” He looked up and caught my smile. “You are a tease, aren’t you? I see that little smirk on your face.”

  “I’m painting,” I shrugged.

  He hummed, tilting his head to the side, “So, tell me about you.”

  “About me?” I raised an eyebrow. “There isn’t a whole lot to tell that isn’t readily available on in the internet.”

  “But I want to hear it from you,” he pouted, sticking out his bottom lip. I was overcome by the urge to get up and suck on it. I shook my head violently, trying to focus back on the canvas. “Tell me what it was like growing up with the total goddess that is Samantha Corner.”

  I shrugged, “She’s a Mom. There’s not that much to say.”

  “What’s she like?” He insisted.

  “She’s nice,” I shrugged. “She annoys the hell out of me sometimes. She’s got a Peter Pan complex, and makes me feel like I have to be the adult while she’s the kid.”

  “You take care of her?”

  “Sometimes. She knows when she needs to be my mother and grow up. She writes a lot. You wouldn’t believe how much unpublished stuff she has laying around. Her office is filled with notebooks. Her desk is littered with disks. She’s got about four external hard-drives.” I shook my head, glancing up at him. “Writing is her life. Everything she lives for. Sometimes she makes me feel like I was an inconvenient accident. Even if she doesn’t mean to.”

  “That’s harsh, isn’t it?”

  “I said she doesn’t mean to,” I countered. “I know that she loves me, and probably couldn’t live without me, but until I was old enough to take care of myself, she had a habit of pushing me to a second priority to her deadlines.”

  “She doesn’t sound like a very nice person,” Devin shook his head.

  “She’s the greatest person,” I shook my head. “I wouldn’t trade my mother for anyone.”

  He nodded, scratching his chest. I noticed how smooth he was and I couldn’t help but ask.

  “So, why do you shave?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re totally hairless, aside from your head. Why do you shave?”

  “That’s kind of a personal question, isn’t it?”

  “Well, you’ve already psychoanalyzed my relationship with my mother. I figured it was a fair question.” I raised an eyebrow.

  He shrugged, “I shave because my boyfriend liked it.”

  “Liked it?” I emphasized the past tense.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “We broke up recently.”

  “How long did you date for?”

  “Two years,” He shrugged. “He cheated on me with some guy on the cheerleading squad. How junior high is that?”

  “Maybe you just weren’t flexible enough for him?” I shrugged.

  “Oh, I’m plenty flexible. He was wasn’t versatile enough. I ask him to fuck me just one time, and he gets all nervous.” He rolled his eyes. “He was a fucking pansy. I’m better off without him anyway.”

  “Well, you don’t seem bitter at all,” I assured him.

  “Cocky bastard,” he looked back at me. “So, as long as we’re getting into it, I have to know. You ever sleep with a guy before? Or are you really as straight as you want everyone to think that you are?”

  “I’m straight,” I nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t slept with guys before.”

  “Oh really?” He raised, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, really.” I nodded.

  “Tell me more,” he requested.

  “I’d rather not. I hardly know you. How can I trust you not to stick it up on the internet somewhere, outing Samantha Corner’s son.”

  “Why would I do something like that? I love your Mom and that’d piss her off, right?”

  “My Mom knows I’m straight.”

  “Does she know you’ve slept with boys?”

  “I don’t tell my Mom about my sex life,” I shook my head. “Chances are, she’d become too interested and use me for information. You might not know this, but she can’t talk to gay guys. They make her nervous.”

  “Why?” He wrinkled his nose.

  “Part of it is because she doesn’t want to know what they think of her books. She’s afraid of being very wrong or even very right. The other part of it is, my Mom is shy. She sees two guys and she becomes a little fan girl. She blushes like crazy and has to walk away as fast as she can.”

  “That’s got to be kind of tough.”

  “She has all of her fan letters screened. She doesn’t reply personally to letters. She doesn’t do book signings. She lives rather sheltered actually.”

  “That’s kind of depressing.”

  “It’s just the way she works,” I shrugged.

  We were quiet for a bit before he yawned, “So, how’s the painting coming?”

  “Fine,” I nodded. “Do you mind if a take a couple of shots, so I can keep working on it tomorrow morning?”

  “Sure,” he nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “Thanks,” I took the moment to rinse out my brush and take a quick picture with my camera. I hoped the light wouldn’t shift too much while I worked.

  We were quiet for a little longer. I had probably been painting for about two hours when I noticed his eyelids were starting to get a little heavy.

  “I’m sorry,” I stood up, stretching my arms. “Do you want to take a break? This can’t be very exciting for you.”

  “I’m okay,” he shook his head.

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Water, if you have it.”

  I nodded, pulling out two bottles of water from
the fridge and tossing one in his direction.

  “So, do you have a roommate?” He nodded towards the bunked beds, both of which were made. “I see you all over this room, but no evidence of another person.”

  “I don’t,” I shook my head. “But I like to keep the other bed made because keeping it bare looks tacky. Plus, you never know when someone will need a place to crash.”

  “Someone?” He raised an eyebrow.

  I shrugged, “I have friends.”

  He nodded. “Okay, I get it.” He yawned, stretching his arms out. I tried not to watch the way his muscles contracted when he made the movement, but I couldn’t help it. He looked good, and it had been a long time since I had gotten more than a blow job.

  He caught me looking a grin crossed his face. He wasn’t shy at all about running his hand from his crotch up his chest. “Enjoying the view?”

  “It’s not bad,” I shrugged, taking a plug from my ice-cold bottle of water. The chill reminded me that this painting was due in two days, and I had better get control of my hormones. I couldn’t help but tease him a little, “I’d enjoy it more if you didn’t look prepubescent.”

  “Oooh, that hurts,” he cringed before looking straight back at me. “I broke up with the guy that liked it a few days ago. It’ll grow back, but I like it smooth,” He was teasing me now, his fingers trailing his balls. “It’s so easy to touch.”

  “Each to their own, I suppose.”

  “You can touch it, if you want,” he offered. “I don’t mind.”

  “I have a painting to finish. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get too excited. It’ll ruin the composition.”

  He hummed, “Are you sure? Maybe taking a little sex break would help. You look so tense behind the canvas. Is it not going well?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m just on a deadline.”

  “Fucking me might help relieve some stress.”

  “You want me to fuck you?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “My ex was a hardcore bottom,” He stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “I tried to get him to take me a couple of times, but he wigged out. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten a real cock in my ass.” He came closer, ignoring the canvas to press close to me. I was extremely aware of how naked he was. My awareness became his awareness when he grabbed hold of me through my jeans, stroking me with his V’d fingers.