Eli's Christmas Wish, Part 1
Thank you to everyone who participated in the editing/critiquing of this story. You really helped me a lot!! I got it finished (7120 words) and sent off and got a reply that I was not too late. Yayayayay!!!!They will be making the selections for their Advent Calendar of Boy Love towards the end of the month. So I have a chance. (I think.)
Here is the completed version for anyone who didn’t read along as it was happening, or who wants to see how it ended up. Thanks again. You guys rock! Love, S!
My name is Eli Taylor. I’m thirty-three years old, six-foot two, brown hair, brown eyes, etc. I live in Huntsville, Alabama and work for NASA. I’m a rocket scientist.
That pretty much sums me up. Oh, and I have a brown and white pit bull named Clyde. He has a ripped up ear and only one eye, which is blue and white and only semi-functional. He lost the other one, along with the missing part of his ear, in a dog fight that wasn’t really a fight at all, because he was tied to a tree and unable to defend himself. Don’t even get me started on that. Rocket scientists are, as a rule, pretty peaceful folks, but if I could get my hands on the assholes who did this to my dog..... Well, he wasn’t actually my dog at the time, but still, let’s just say, they’d be lucky if all they lost was an ear and an eye.
Clyde’s got it made now, though. All the bad times are behind him. He watches Animal Planet everyday while I’m at work, lounging on the sofa staring at my flat-panel TV with his one goofy eye. He sleeps on my bed every night, drooling on the pillows, snoring and farting. Sometimes, when he gets to dreaming about something exciting, he’ll growl and kick me in the back. It’s almost like having a person there, except for no sex.
I miss sex. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I thought guys in their thirties were probably too old to care much about sex. Boy, was I wrong.
I had a ton of sex last year and it spoiled me. Back then I was dating a guy named Dillon Wagner. We met at a party and were together for almost a year, until, out of the blue, he took a job in another city and left, like what we had was no big deal at all. We didn’t talk it over. He didn’t ask me if I wanted to go with him; he never really said much about it at all. Maybe he didn’t think I cared. After all, it wasn’t like we were bone-deep in love. Still, we were friends - I thought - as well as lovers, and it hurt when he broke the news like he was announcing a new car purchase instead of a permanent separation. “Eli, guess what? I got a job in DC! I’m leaving in three weeks. Isn’t that great?”
Great for Dillon, I guess, but it sucked for me. I think it always sucks more to be the one left behind. He got to move someplace new and exciting, got to make new friends and experiment with new things to do. I’m still here in my same old house with my same old job and my same old boring life. Clyde is the best thing that’s happened to me in the nine months since Dillon left. Not to minimize Clyde, but it would be nice to have someone with less body hair and better breath to cuddle up with at night, especially now that Christmas is coming. I’m not Father Christmas Ho Ho Ho or anything like that, but it just seems wrong to be alone during the holidays. Truth is, I’m tired of being alone, period. I’m ready for somebody new.
Not just anybody, though. I know exactly who I want. Unfortunately, I probably have a better chance of waking up with a box full of Chippendale dancers under my Christmas tree than this guy. His name is Jonas Cooper. He’s the new owner of the liquor store that I pass by on my way home from work and where I stop in occasionally for a bottle of whiskey. Since Jonas took over the store about three months ago, I’ve been making my stops a bit more regular, hoping to get a chance to talk to him. This hasn’t worked out so far, however, because almost every time I stop in, he’s flirting with some lady customer and barely gives me the time of day. Too bad for me, he’s my picture perfect fantasy guy, so even though I know it’s hopeless, I still go in faithfully for my bi-monthly dose of torture.
You’ve probably already figured this out by now, but just in case you aren’t paying real close attention, I’m gay. I forgot to mention that in my initial introduction. Since I’m not getting any lately, it’s almost easy to forget I’m any different from all the other schmucks beating off in their showers every morning before work, wishing for someone they can’t have, wanting the life that they imagine everyone but them is living.
Being single didn’t used to bother me. I actually liked it. I mean, I wasn’t ever gonna give the guys on Queer as Folk a run for their money, but I did hit the bars every now and then, played the field a little, fucked around enough to be comfortable with who I am and what I like. But I guess I’m just past all that now. Even though things with Dillon didn’t work out, I got attached to the lifestyle. I liked sleeping with the same guy every night - or almost every night since we never officially lived together. I think I’d like having somebody to share all the ho-hum things that make the world go ‘round, like grocery shopping and mowing the yard. I’d at least like to have the chance to find out. Surely that’s not too much to ask.
But sadly, I can’t see this happening with Jonas, and my on-going discouragement was further enforced when I walked into Wine and Spirits that Wednesday afternoon to find him deep in flirt mode with a lady wearing leopard print leggings and black, stiletto-heeled leather boots that went all the way up past her knees. She’d topped the ensemble off with a fur coat that came complete with the animal’s actual tail, which she was toying with flirtatiously. If Clyde had been along, with his one bad eye, he would’ve probably mistaken her for one of the stars of his favorite Animal Planet show.
Jonas was leaning over the counter, his dark head pressed close to her artificially platinum one, listening to her secrets and laughing at whatever she had to tell him. I swallowed back the urge to hurl and headed - not for my usual whiskey shelf - but for the wine display in the middle of the store. I had somehow drawn the short straw at work, giving me the dubious honor of hosting the office Christmas party. Since they don’t allow alcohol on NASA property, we have it off-site every year. The good news was I was only responsible for the booze. The other folks in my department promised to bring food in exchange for not having to get their houses ready for a party.
In fact, I’d been planning to skip Christmas altogether, but in honor of the party I’d relented and gone out last Sunday and bought a tree and decorated it. It wasn’t glamorous, but enough white lights could make anything look festive. I’d vacuumed and dusted the night before to rid the place of all the excess Clyde hairs, and set out some cinnamon candles I got at the drug store. I’d even dug out a few holiday CD’s. I was as festive as I could possibly be without getting strange with the ribbons and the twinkle lights.
All I had left to do now was pick up wine, beer and ice, check for Clyde clumps in the back yard, and shower. I’d taken off work two hours early to give myself plenty of time. As I stood staring at the wine - all seven hundred bottles - I suddenly wished I’d taken off much earlier, like maybe three days ago. I wasn’t a wine drinker. How the hell was I possibly supposed to know what to get?
The laughter behind me at the counter faded out, I assumed in favor of more whispers, but when the bell over the door jingled a minute later, I soon found myself joined by the man who’d become my unknowing partner in my recent wet dreams. He was his usual handsome self, wearing snug-fitting Levis and a white t-shirt with a long-sleeved, dark blue corduroy over-shirt, an almost matching blue-black shadow of stubble on his jaw emphasizing the whiteness of his smile. He was movie star perfect and my cock stirred and stretched to greet him, although all I could do was stare at him like a deer caught in headlights.
“Hey! It’s Eli, right?” He held out his hand to shake mine and I wondered if I’d somehow stepped off into another universe where I wasn’t me anymore and my life was unexpectedly about to turn out wonderful.
“Umm.... yeah.” I shook his hand, which was big and warm. He had long fingers with short, blunt nails that I could imagine digging into my back or curling around my cock. My cock was eager for that experience as well and surged to life hopefully, pushing against the flimsy resistance of my baggy boxers. This was not a smart day to be running around unfettered.
“I’m Jonas. I’ve seen you come in before, but you’re always out so quick, I never get a chance to say ‘Hi’.”
“You’re usually busy.” I cast my eyes back at the counter where he’d been talking to the animal lady, and he grinned.
“Yeah, my uncle warned me about that. He was always a ladies man, loved to flirt. He’s got ‘em all spoiled.” There was just a tinge of sadness in his voice when he spoke, and it occurred to me that I had no idea what had happened to the previous owner. The store had never been for sale, it had just quietly changed hands over a weekend.
“What happened? Did he die?”
“Oh no, nothing like that! He just decided to retire and move to Florida. He never married and never had any kids. Guess he’s just going down there to be all by himself. Kinda sad.”
Since that was the life I was looking at, except for the Florida part, I hated to hear him put it that way. “Maybe he didn’t want a family. Some guys like keeping their options open.” Not me, but some guys.....
“Yeah, maybe. But that’s not what I think. I think he fell in love when he was young and it didn’t work out and he got his heart broke and was too scared to ever try again. He never said, but that’s what I think.” He shrugged.
“I suppose that could be it.” I looked at his fingers again. There was no ring tan, no indention where a ring would go. “So, did you and your family move here to take over the store, or did you already live in the area?” Subtle, huh?
His moment of sadness vanished then as he grinned again and held up his fingers, checking them out with exaggerated curiousness. “Now I just saw you looking at my hands, and there aren’t any rings there that I can see, so what makes you ask if I’ve got a family? You don’t see something I don’t, do you?”
Ok, maybe not so subtle. “Ummm.... just the way you said..... you know.... about your uncle being alone. Just made me think......” Between all the blood flowing to my south parts, and all the rest of it rushing to my cheeks to make sure he knew how embarrassed I was, there was none left to operate my brain and regulate my conversational skills. I needed to get back on topic and get the hell out of there before I broke something. Like my pride. “Anyway, it’s none of my business. I.... uhh... actually, I need to get some wine.”
His smile switched from personal to professional in the time it took for me to flick my eyes over at the wine display, and I felt even worse than before when I was just humiliated. Some of his spark had gone, leaving me with the feeling that I’d somehow lost something special, but the whole exchange had only taken a minute and surely nothing important could’ve happened that fast.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. What are you looking for?” He shoved his ringless hands into his pockets, easing back into shopkeeper mode as he gazed at me expectantly with cool blue eyes. My whole body ached with need for him - I’d gone way too long without anyone - and my brain was almost ready to shut down. I was on the fast track to stupid, and the fact that I knew less about wine than most folks know about nuclear physics didn’t help.
“Well, see, that’s the problem. I don’t know.” I shoved my own hands in my pockets, felt the rub of my pants on my still hopeful cock and jerked them out again. The last thing he needed was accidental touching at this point.
“Is it for dinner? Or a gift?”
“It’s for a party. I’m having a party.” I looked at my watch. It was almost four. “In about an hour and a half.” I was beginning to feel doomed in every way.
“Oh. Guess you’re on the clock, then. Hmmm....” He drew one hand up to his face and rubbed his stubble. I wanted to do that for him, but figured he might not appreciate the gesture. Besides, the rubbing seemed to be helping him think, and one of us needed to do that or my party was going to be a disaster.
“How many folks are coming?”
Just two...... me and you, is what I wanted to say. “About fifteen. It’s the folks from my department at work.”
“Oh. Cool.” He seemed to loosen up again at that bit of personal information. Maybe he could tell I was sorry and suffering. “Where do you work?”
“NASA.”
“Astronaut?” He looked impressed, so I nodded. I’m telling you, I was operating on fumes.
He laughed and bumped me with his arm. I silently vowed never to let anyone touch that spot again. “You are not! What do you really do?”
I stared down at our feet, his grey sneakers, my black loafers. “I’m a rocket scientist,” I admitted glumly, because that wasn’t nearly as exciting as being an astronaut. Since flying made me nervous, however, it was way better for my peace of mind.
He looked me up and down, his eyes taking inventory of my close-cropped hair and my boring work clothes, evidence of my less than exciting profession. They stopped to linger midway, at which point I realized I’d forgotten to be discreet and had shoved my hands back in my pockets, revealing how excited I was to finally have his personal attention. He smiled as I yanked them out, but spared me the complete humiliation of mentioning my boner. I figured he’d save that until after he made his sale.
He cleared his throat to disguise his chuckle and kept going. “So. You’re having fifteen rocket scientists over for wine and cheese? Are ya’ll gonna play Dirty Santa?”
I bounced on my toes. It was all I could do not to grab him. Normally I’m not like that around attractive strangers, but since he was my jack-off fantasy, he got special consideration. “I think they mentioned something about that.”
“What did you get? For your present?” He tilted his head to the side, looked really interested. He had a mole by his lip, like Cindy Crawford. I wanted to lick it.
“Ummm....” I bounced some more, dragging my eyes away from the mole so that I might possibly be able to remember what was in the Christmas bag sitting on my kitchen counter. “A bag of Starbucks coffee and a travel mug.”
He nodded, pressed his lips together. “Wow. I bet they’ll be fighting tooth and nail over that one.”
That hurt. “We take our moles coffee very seriously!” My heart was starting to beat off rhythm. I figured I had about five minutes max before I either hyperventilated or shoved him into the back room and did something very non-scientific.
His lips twitched but he gave me another pass.
“So you said wine for fifteen?” He walked ahead of me towards the stand with the big bottles. I followed, eyes glued to his ass.
“Plus my neighbors.”
He looked back and caught me in mid-ogle. “How many neighbors?”
“Two. But they drink a lot.”
“Are you serving anything else? Punch, sodas?”
“Beer.”
“Nothing non-alcoholic?”
Shit. I hadn’t even thought about that. “Ok. I’ll pick up some bottles of water. And diet Coke. The women drink that at work all the time.” My cube partner Melinda wasn’t even human without it.
“Good plan. Most folks like a to-go drink. You want to give them some safe options.”
“Yeah.... I didn’t think about that. I don’t have many parties.”
“I used to have some, but not since I moved here.” As he reached for a big bottle of wine, he added quietly, “All by myself.”
I muttered “Thanks,” acknowledging the information I’d asked for earlier, and then I listened as he explained to me about the different wines. Since I had no idea what anyone liked, I bought two bottles each of red, white and pink, which was actually White Zinfandel. Between that and the beer and soft drinks, we should be set. They were only planning to stay for a couple of hours. It was almost Christmas, after all. They had other stuff to do besides hang out at my house and get sloshed. (Or so you would think.)
We carried all my stuff up to the counter. The bell rang and another customer came in, but thankfully it was a guy who wanted a bottle of vodka in a hurry, so I let him go ahead of me and we soon had the store to ourselves again. He rang me up, the scanner beeping over each of my bottles, my heart rate accelerating as he rang up the fourth one, then the fifth, and then the last one. “That’ll be one oh seven fifty two.”
Oh yeah. I dug in my back pocket, pulled out my wallet and handed over my credit card. We stood there in awkward silence as we waited for the transaction to go through. My palms were sweating and my fingers felt like spaghetti noodles. I wondered if I’d even be able to hold the pen to sign my name.
The door bell chimed again as he drummed his fingers on the counter. He looked up and smiled at the young man who walked in. “Hey Grady.”
“Hey Jonas. How’s it going?”
“Ok. Kinda slow right now, but it’s been busy.” The machine whirred and spat out my receipt. Jonas pulled it free but didn’t hand it over. I listened to their conversation, eager for any bits of information I could gather.
“You got anything special you want me to do?”
“Just put the empty boxes out for the garbage pick-up. I’m gonna be heading out pretty soon if you think you’ve got it.”
“Sure man. No prob.”
“Thanks.” Jonas gave the young man a smile, then turned back to me as he disappeared into the back. “I’ve been killing myself around here. Finally got some reliable help so I don’t have to work all the damn time.”
“That’s good. It’s no fun working all the time,” I said, reaching for my receipt. His fingers touched mine as he handed it to me, and even though the touch was small and quick, it still melted my heart just that much more. I was a certified goner as far as Jonas Cooper was concerned.
“No, it’s not, even when you don’t have a wife and kids to go home to.” His expression was bland. The ball was in my court, but it was an easy lob he’d set me up with, leaving me with lots of options for my return.
“So who do you go home to?”
“Cujo.”
I handed him back the receipt with its illegible signature. “Who’s that?” It sounded vicious, whoever it was.
“My cat.” He got a worried look on his face. “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”
“No. But I don’t have one. I have a dog. Clyde.”
He looked away for a second, then back at me. It was his turn to blush when he asked, “Is he allergic to cats?”
“I hope not.”
We stared at each other for a minute until finally I realized that nothing still had happened, and it wouldn’t until I made the next move. I shuffled and mustered up the last of my nerve. “If you’re not busy tonight, you’re welcome to stop by the house and have a glass of this wine. My friends are pretty nice. They might give you some hell once they’ve had a few, but they’re harmless.”
His eyes got big. “What kinda hell?”
I shrugged, blushed some more. I felt like a twelve year old girl at my first school dance. “About me.” I rolled my eyes, hoping to convey all the things I desperately did not want to say. “You know.”
He nodded, got that oh yeah look on his face. “Gotcha.......” He twirled the pen in his fingers, closed his eyes for a second, which gave me a chance to study his eyelashes. They were long and thick and sensual. I’d never thought of eyelashes as sexy before, but that was just the tip of the iceberg of the havoc he was causing to my preconceived notions. He was changing all my rules about everything. I’d never flirted with a virtual stranger before in broad daylight without being at least slightly hammered. I’d never asked the man of my dreams to come to my house for wine and cheese with my coworkers without even the benefit of a date or two first. I’d never wanted so badly to slam someone down on the floor and fuck their brains out that it was all I could do to stay civil and upright. He was showing me glimpses of myself I’d never seen before, and it was scary, but it was exciting too.
I realized we were staring at each other. He’d opened his eyes somewhere in the middle of my thoughts. It was gratifying to see the want I was feeling mirrored in his face. “It’s cool, though. I’m up for it. I’d like to come.”
“Great,” I said, smiling and breathing free for the first time since I walked in. He passed me a square of paper and I wrote down the directions to my house and my home phone and cell phone numbers as well. I added a little map with an X at the store and another one at my house. I noted the big tree with the tire swing that we all used as a landmark. I thought about drawing two stick men fucking, but I figured that might be over the top. Best to take things slow and easy. No need to rush.
I handed over the information. He studied it for a few seconds, then looked up, smiled and said, “Thanks. What time?”
“Whenever. They’ll start showing up around five thirty.”
“Do I need to bring anything?”
I had condoms and lube. I couldn’t imagine what else we would need. “No, everything’s covered.” Including you, I hope. I shivered at the thought. I probably needed to take a valium just to be on the safe side, only I didn’t have one. Damn. If we ended up alone at the party, as revved up as I was, there was no telling what I might do. I didn’t want our first encounter to be in the pantry up against my canned vegetables.
“Ok. See you in a couple of hours then.” He held up the paper. “Thanks, Eli.”
It was time to go. I said, “Sure. See ya,” then hurried out with my bags of wine, eager to finish my errands and get home. Time couldn’t pass fast enough for me anymore.
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