The Trainer Page 5

  He texted me: Want to talk. Hope you’re alright. Give me a call. Miss you.

  He didn’t miss me. Fuck that. He had that blond stud I saw him with outside of Fitland. He could hug and kiss and screw around with that guy. That was his gig now. Squire didn’t need me in his life. No way.

  * * * *

  I saw Squire and the blond together two days later. Almost nighttime while I was driving to the set of River Death along the Allegheny River. I was passing Hays Park. Saw the pair of them outside the park eating ice cream cones. Shoulders rubbing while they walked. Laughing. Ice cream on their noses.

  Lovers?

  Boyfriends?

  Something?

  Once a player, always a player, I thought, and drove on, leaving the pair behind to whatever they had together.

  Fuck him!

  * * * *

  “Get up, sleepyhead. It’s almost three o’clock in the afternoon.” Sis poked my right side, pulling me out of a sexual dream: Squire and I were dressed as hot cowboys and having heated and bareback sex in a barn somewhere in Oklahoma.

  “I worked all night,” I grumbled. “Didn’t get home until nine this morning. We shot three scenes. Let the grip sleep.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Wake up. We need to talk.”

  “No talk. I need to sleep. I’m exhausted.” I opened my eyes ever so slightly and sun bled inside, burning them like a vampire’s.

  She poked me again. “It’s about Squire. Which means it’s important. So sit up. I have a coffee for you.”

  I smelled it. And her dandelion perfume, which I could live without. I sat up and yawned. The light comforter fell to my middle and my pecs and a few abs were exposed. Who cared since it was only my sister? I took the coffee from her, blinked a number of times, and warned, “This better be good.”

  She sat beside me. “The coffee or what I have to tell you?”

  “Both, girl. Both. If you know what’s best for you.”

  “What did you do to Squire the other night?” Sis asked in a strong tone, judging me: wide-eyed, pursed lips, red-cheeked.

  “Nothing.” I took a sip of the hot coffee: delicious, just what I needed, perfect for a man who hadn’t gotten enough sleep after working absurd hours on a movie.

  “You’re not telling me the truth.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “I know about the blowjob and how you stopped Squire from giving it to you. And I know about you running out of his house, ending your date early with him.”

  “How do you know these things? What are you doing, spying on me?”

  “He invited me to Fitland this morning. Gregory Dicks was there. I had my books signed and worked out with the two of them for an hour. Dicks is very odd, but interesting. The workout was amazing. Squire is a pro trainer.”

  I rolled my eyes and faked a gag. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “This isn’t about me. I want to know why you ran out on Squire when he likes you. What were you thinking? The guy almost had your dick in his mouth and you bolted. What’s your problem?”

  I shook my head and sighed. “Do we really have to be talking about this, Sis?”

  “Yes. We. Do.” She paused. “And you’re not leaving this bed until you’re honest with me. No lies. I want nothing but the truth.”

  “Fair enough,” I whispered. “If that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll give you.”

  She nodded.

  I nodded.

  “Then tell me.”

  And so it was done.

  * * * *

  I took a long sip of the coffee and rambled, “Squire’s a player. I’ve seen him with this blond guy over half his age. They hug and Squire pats his bottom. They have ice cream together like lovers. I don’t want to be with a guy who’s a player. Squire only wants me for my dick and ass. He just wants to get with me. I’m just a sex-thing to him. A toy. He’ll use me up and spit me out. Just like all the other single guys in his life. He’s not one to settle down with. At least not with me. And not with anyone else. The man didn’t like me in high school, and he doesn’t like me now. He just wants to put his boner inside me and get off. It’s an easy thing to comprehend, Sis. I’m a lay for him. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  She chuckled at me. “You’re so wrong on so many different levels.”

  “I’m glad you think this is funny, because my heart is a little bruised over this. I’ve always liked Squire Land, and he’s always squeezing my heart to death. Then and now. Always. Life with him will never be different. He will always be above me. And I will always be drowning in his shit.”

  My hands were shaking and she took the coffee from me. She shook her head from left to right and softly admitted, “Let me be nice when I say this…You have it all wrong, Alex. You don’t know what you’re saying. Trust me, you don’t.”

  I started to calm down and asked, “How so? Tell me. Spill the beans. Tell me what you know.”

  She patted my stomach and took a deep breath, said, “The blond guy is Charlie St. Peterson. He’s sixteen but looks like a man. A big kid in a man’s body. Sweet and charming. He has a hard life. No father. No mother. No home. Lives on the street most of the time. He’s seen things you can’t even imagine. He comes from the city’s system. He’s being fostered by Squire’s brother. Safford and Cassie foster him. They want to adopt him. He’s going to be a part of the Land family. You’ve probably seen Charlie with Squire because Squire spends time with him. Squire’s close to his twin brother and Cassie, which means he’s going to be close to Charlie. It’s a strong family unit. And Charlie needs ice cream, hugs, and a pat on the butt. He needs affection. If anyone can be affectionate, I’d imagine its Squire. So what you saw wasn’t Squire being a player or cheater or a dick…It was Squire being an uncle. Or at least trying to be one. Do you hear what I’m saying?”

  “I do. And now you’re making me feel bad for questioning his integrity.”

  Sis waved a finger at me. “As well as you should feel bad.” Again, she paused. “As for you thinking he’s using you for sex, he’s not. He made that quite clear to me this morning. The man is head over heels for you. And has been since our brother’s funeral. I honestly don’t know what you’ve done to him, and you probably don’t know either, but he loves you. All of you. Just you. Only you. He’s not just using you for sex and a fuck, Alex. He wants your heart. Every bit of it. The. Man. Loves. You…All. Of. You.

  “As for this high school thing, you need to get over it. That was almost twenty years ago. Get. Over. It. Move on. He’s not a kid anymore. And you’re not either. High school was then. Now is now. He doesn’t care about those days, and you shouldn’t either. Squire cares about you, here, and now. So get used to it, and him. He has his heart to give to you. And he wants your heart. Because if you don’t get used to these things, that man is going to move on without it. And you will have no one to blame but yourself.”

  “I hear you,” I told her, letting her words sink in. My eyes widened and the edges of my heart fluttered. “I do hear you.”

  “You better,” she said, rising from the edge of the bed and walking to the bedroom’s exit. “You better. Because if you don’t. There’s going to be a river death, just like the movie you’re making. And it’s your body the police are going to find. Trust me when I say that. Trust me.”

  I would.

  * * * *

  That evening a warm and cold front mixed, and a storm blew into town. Thunder rocked and rolled over the city. Sheets of lightning filled the sky with a brilliant electric show. I hadn’t had enough time to digest everything Sis told me when Squire showed up on my doorstep panting and in nothing more than a pair of black running shoes, matching low-cut shorts. It was obvious to me he was out running.

  “Al…ex,” he said, out of breath; a total surprise to me since he was physically fit. His chest rose and fell. The trainer’s cheeks were flushed and rainwater dripped down and over his sculpted chest.

  “What are you doing here?” His shorts were so low I could see the top of his pubic area, which looked freshly manscaped. The southern mound looked snug in the Lycra material, semi-hard and plump.

  “We need to talk. Or, at least I do. And you need to listen to me.”

  So I stepped aside and told him, “Come in. I’ll get you a towel and you can dry off.”

  * * * *

  He kicked his drenched shoes and socks off and used the cotton bath towel on his chest, back, and legs. I was quite surprised when he pulled off his shorts and wrapped the towel around his center. Did he plan to stay a while as the running shorts dried? Did he want to borrow a pair of my shorts for his run home? Who knew?

  “Can I have a drink?” he asked, being forward.

  “Water? Or something strong?”

  “Something strong. Have one with me.”

  I poured us tequila shots. Two each. We downed both. One after the next.

  “Good stuff,” he said, sitting on the sofa in the cotton towel, making himself at home. I didn’t mind. He patted the empty spot beside him. “Come here. Don’t be shy. Sit beside me.”

  I didn’t. At least not at first. I stood to his left and asked, “What’s this about, Squire? You show up here out of the blue and…”

  “Come here. Sit down. I have things to say to you. Don’t make this difficult for me…and you.”

  So I took the bottle of tequila with me, sat next to him, poured us a third shot, downed mine, watched him down his, and became comfortable and numb at his side. Listened to him.

  * * * *

  He looked me square in the eyes, held my hand, and said, “A guy has to go after what he wants, because if he doesn’t, it eventually won’t be there to get. Poof. Before he knows it, it will be gone in a second. Maybe even quicker than that. You’r
e old enough to know this. I’m not telling you things in the Book of Life that you’ve haven’t already experienced on your own. This isn’t new bullshit by any means.”

  “What are you saying?” I knew perfectly well what he was saying, but I wanted to hear it slip out of his mouth, and him to mean it. Any guy would in my position. Why wouldn’t he? And why wouldn’t I?

  “I’ve fallen in love with you, Alex Lee. Every part of you. Inside and out. And I want to start a crazy, fun, romantic, sexy, and caring relationship with you. That’s why I’m here. You drive me wild, every part of you, and I can’t get you out of my head and heart. Lately, every breathing moment of my day concerns you. Every second. And I’m here to learn how you feel about me. It might be risky what I hear from you, but life is a risk. We’d both be fools to believe that it isn’t.”

  I wasn’t at all surprised at what came over me. My heart folded in and onto itself, unfolded, and did that ten more times, quickly. My temples pulsed erratically. And my legs began to tremble. Almost instantly, I leaned forward and connected my mouth to his, aligned our worlds, and my right hand found his now dry back and I pulled him toward me. The kiss was world-shaking. An explosion between us. Or maybe it was an implosion. I really wasn’t sure. Did it matter? Not really. Our kissing lasted a minute…two minutes…three minutes, until he released his towel from his center.

  * * * *

  I stopped and quickly undressed. I climbed on top of him and felt his stiff erection slide along my rear opening with ease. My shaft rolled against his ribbed stomach and a few pre-bubbles of ejaculate pumped out, glazing his skin. Fingertips discovered his hard nipples, which I spun in counterclockwise directions and caused him to moan underneath me. I slid up and down against his shaft, making him harder, teasing him.

  When he pulled away from my face, ending our abrupt kissing, he begged, “Stop with the ass-rubbing, you’ll make me explode.”

  “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to make you do?” I rolled a palm through his damp hair, twisted his firm nipples again, and licked the side of his veined-pulsing neck, then his cheek, and decided to continue our kissing.

  He groaned beneath me, sliding his tongue inside my mouth as far as it would travel, swirling it around. He bucked my behind, slipped between and against its orbs, wanting inside me. More sticky pre-goo released from my tool and dribbled on his navel and abdominals.

  Playing with him, I reached my right hand around and behind me, discovered his drooping balls, applied a gentle squeeze, two squeezes, pulled my face away from his face, and said, “How badly do you want me to ride you?”

  He huffed, “You have no idea.”

  “I have some idea.”

  “Get a condom and lube and I’ll show you.”

  And so it was done.

  * * * *

  Yes, we made love to each other. And yes, there was the strong feeling of passion between us. Two men connected on my sofa and they were in love. But I can’t say it was smooth, soft, sweet, and supple. On the contrary, we were rough with each other, deviants on the cushions, forceful, biting, ferocious, harsh, callous, and hard. Perhaps we were too hungry for sex to be sensitive or careful.

  The act of riding his dick became rough and wild, slapping and noisy. Our bodies pounded together, jockish and chaotic, and we grunted like animals, woofed and huffed. I gripped his shoulders, digging my fingers into his skin.

  And he poked his digits into my hips, manhandling me with power, and said again and again, rather brutally, “Fucking you…Fucking you…Fucking you.”

  Sweat dripped from our bodies as we bounced up and down…up and down. The living room filled with our filthy noises and echoed off its walls. My dick slapped against his stomach as his pulsing tool slid in and out of my taut rump. We kissed whenever possible: rushed, heated, clicking teeth together.

  Once, and only once, those nasty titles by Gregory Dicks slipped into my mind: Master of the House, Blind Dates, Daddy Camp, Man Overboard, and Candyboy. And once, and only once, did I think of Malin and his Harry Style looks, and how that young, male, horny slut put on his private shows for me: tugging on his overused dick, splashing his load all over his grandmother’s garage floor, having sex with his male companion and…

  * * * *

  The trainer came inside me and I came on his stomach at the same time. I was never one to shoot a spraying load like a porn star—never over a guy’s head or splattering it against his shoulder or across his firm pecs. It happened so quickly, thunderously like the storm outside. So much moaning and grunting and groaning and humping and puffing and huffing. And then we fell against each other, out of breath, spent.

  “You’re still inside me. And you’re still hard.”

  “Right where I want to be.”

  “We’re boyfriends now.”

  “And lovers.”

  “It’s going to be complicated since I have to leave at the end of summer.”

  “I like complicated.”

  I kissed him.

  He kissed me.

  Sticky. Sweaty. Breathless.

  “Did I hurt your nipples?” I asked him.

  “I wanted you to. I like to play rough.”

  “Good to know.”

  He laughed.

  I laughed.

  Huffing. Puffing. Empty of our spew-loads.

  “Were you out for a run, or did you purposely run over here?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that question.”

  I did. He deliberately ran over to my place to find out if I loved him, and had every intention to seduce me. I chuckled. “You came here to spend the night with me.”

  “That too.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  He laughed. “I already gave you my meat.”

  “Gross. But I liked it.” I pushed off him, stood, and headed to the shower. “Come with me. Let’s get a shower.” It would be the first of many that summer with him.

  “Yes sir, sir.”

  “Good that you know I wear the pants in this relationship.”

  “Or not.” He followed me to the bathroom, removing the condom from his dick on his trek. “Nice ass, sir,” he told me.

  “You’d better like it,” I said over my right shoulder. “It’s yours for the taking.”

  “Hot damn! Just what I wanted to hear.”

  * * * *

  August 29

  River Death was a wrap. Summer was a wrap. Which meant my relationship with the trainer was a wrap. Or at least I thought that was the case.

  Appropriately, the wrap party was being held next to the Allegheny River at a fancy restaurant called Le Rou, a very expensive place that I couldn’t afford. I decided to take Squire with me because he couldn’t wait to meet the actors, producers, writers, and production team that I had worked with, and for, during that long summer.

  The two of us dressed in rented tuxes at his place on West Harlon Street before leaving for the planned event. In his bedroom, facing him, he fixed my bowtie. Chest to chest, we made eye contact. While fingering the linen fabric at my throat he said, “The end of summer is here. You’ll be going back to West Hollywood.”

  “I will.” I couldn’t lie to him. I wouldn’t. My job was important to me, but so was he. “I travel a lot and will visit you regularly.”

  “Or…” He quickly kissed me, paused.

  Seconds ticked by. Pure silence.

  “What?” I whispered to him.

  He smiled, stopping his bowtie work. “I’ll come with you. I’ll do some private training in California. Travel some with you. I really want us to work. What do you think?”

  “You’d do that for me? For us?”

  He kissed me again: long and hard, flooring me, causing me to go numb. When he pulled away, he brushed my hair into place. “I would do that for us. Life is short. I want to play hard with you. Plus, you’re the guy I want to be with. I was serious when I told you I wanted to find Mister Right. You’re that guy.”

  “It’s not a wrap then,” I said,

  “Not a wrap,” he repeated. “Because I love you, Alex Lee. I’ve loved you for years now. And I will always love you. Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. The movie will never end for me. This is exactly what I want with you. My heart and yours tangled together for years to come, for decades. What do you think?”

  “Let’s do it,” I told him, and placed my lips against his, pressed him against my frame, closed my eyes, and continued our movie with him. The man I had fallen in love with. My soul mate. The trainer.