The Perils of Praline (24 page)

He frowned deeply. “You do not understand. In my country a man is a man and a woman is a woman.”

“What does that have to do with anything? You’re gay!” exclaimed Praline.

“Am still man! And woman, or Stewart, whatever, no fuck around. I fuck as please; Stewart no fuck. I explain this many, many times.” Praline assumed these explanations might have something to do with the holes he’d noticed in the walls of their apartment.

“Is it okay to be gay in your country?” Praline asked.

“Malvania? Ha! They kill you. I get out by foreskin of teeth,” Jocks explained.

“Okay, so they’re wrong about that, aren’t they?”

“Yes. They are very wrong,” Jocks said emphatically.

Praline continued. “And if they’re wrong about that. Maybe they’re wrong about other things. Maybe, for instance, Stewart might have as much right to fuck around as you do.”

Jocks growled.

“Or, at the very least it might be wrong to try and kill the people he has sex with.” Small changes are sometimes all that can be hoped for.

Jocks looked Praline up and down and said, “Maybe I not kill you. Maybe I fuck you. You like that?”

While it was a fate better than death, Praline couldn’t say that he was pleased with the prospect. So he suggested, “How about I call you?”

Jocks handed Praline his card and said with a frown, “You better call me.”

“He will,” promised Jason. Not having Praline’s Christian upbringing, Jason found it easier to lie to dangerous semi-sociopaths. After Jocks walked away, Praline’s phone suddenly chirped. He pulled it out and discovered it was reminding him that he had a three o’clock appointment.

“I have an appointment in an hour,” he said to Jason. “How did my phone know that?”

“I synched your calendar with the one I keep for you,” Jason said, the proud assistant.

“But I never gave you my phone,” Praline said suspiciously.

“Bluetooth,” replied Jason. “I always did it for Madison.”

And just then Praline’s heart jumped when he remembered the meeting was with Dave G. He couldn’t believe in all the excitement he’d forgotten. He really had to work on keeping his priorities straight.

They reached the office at about two
-
thirty. Though they hadn’t had any lunch, Praline was far too nervous to eat. He was about to meet the man of his dreams, how could he possibly eat? Jason, though, was hungry and ran over to the commissary to get some lunch, promising to bring it back and eat at what was left of his desk.

While he was gone, Praline did his best to clean up the area. The forensics team had done their business quickly, but the space wasn’t one bit cleaner. They had picked up all the shell casings, but it seemed they only needed a few samples of the acoustic tile from the ceiling and almost no samples of the broken glass from the pictures on the wall. Praline worked as quickly as he could with a broom he’d stolen from the supply closet.

He knew that somewhere there was
a
union member whose job he was doing, and was terrified he might get caught. His mama had always been very clear that what happened to Jimmy Hoffa could happen to anyone who crossed a union member.

By the time Jason got back with his sandwich, Praline had finished removing debris. He went into the men’s room, where he spent ten minutes attempting to resuscitate his hair—which was definitely in a state of code blue. As he walked back to his office, Jason, who was just starting his sandwich, said, “You really don’t want to do this.”

“Do what?” Praline asked innocently.

“What you’re about to do.”

“
I
don’t know what I’m about to do,” explained Praline. “So how you think you know is beyond me.”

“You know what you’re about to do,” Jason said.

“I’m not psychic. I couldn’t possibly know what I’m planning.”

“But you
are
planning something, aren’t you?”

In a huff, Praline went into his office and shut the door. Dave G. was about to arrive any minute. Jason seemed to be sure that Praline was going to rape him the minute he stepped into the office. That was ridiculous. He had absolutely no intention of raping anyone who didn’t want to be raped. As a reasonable person, he understood it might take Dave G. a few minutes to recognize their mutual attraction. He planned to be patient. And that was the only thing he’d planned.

Still, Praline began trembling, just a little. Time seemed to crawl and he kept checking the time on his computer: 2:58. Decades later it turned to 2:59. Suddenly, the intercom buzzed and Praline jumped out of his chair. He pressed the button and heard Jason say, “Dave G. is here.”

Praline’s mouth was dry and his voice cracked as he said, “Send him in, please.”

And then
,
unbelievably, amazingly, Dave G. was standing in the doorway to his office. Praline could barely take it in. He wasn’t as tall as Praline had expected, but that hardly mattered. For the most part, Dave G. was even more attractive in person that he was on TV. He wore an elaborate T-shirt with a swirly pattern on one shoulder, a well-tailored pair of jeans and leather flip-flops. He carried what some would derisively call a murse or man-purse. Praline thought that extremely unfair. Young men who had important things to do, like becoming a famous actor, required someplace to carry their things.

Just as he thought this, Dave G. pulled his resume out of the murse and handed it to Praline.

“Oh, gosh…” Praline said nervously. “It’s so, nice, I mean, meeting you, it’s just so…wow.” He studied Dave G. for the mutual attraction he so hoped for.

Dave G. smiled; his teeth were flawless and very nearly looked real. “Um, dude, congratulations. My agent said you just got this job. Awesome.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s really, really kind of you.” Praline could tell he was beginning to break into a nervous sweat and was terrified it might soak through his entire shirt. Though that would give him an excuse to take it off.

Several moments passed while Praline simply stared at Dave G.

“So, I’m here…” the wannabe actor said in a leading way.

“That’s right. You’re here. It’s just amazing.” Praline waved a hand at the sofa and asked Dave G. to have a seat. Then, he sat down next to him, a little too closely. “I am such a fan of
House-Bound
. I’ve watched every single episode. Actually many, many times. You made a deep, deep impression on me. You touched my heart.”

“Yeah,” said Dave G. “Isn’t it cool how reality TV can do that?”

“It is,” Praline replied, staring into Dave G.’s amazing misty gray eyes that reminded him of fog.

“My agent mentioned a part…”

“Oh, yes, of course, on
Hollywood Hospital
. I think you’re perfect for it.”

“Great. What do I have to do to get it?” Dave G. asked.

Here, Praline stumbled. He’d only had the job for one day, and much of that time had been taken up by a hostage situation and avoiding arrest. He wasn’t entirely sure what the casting process actually was. He knew he had some influence over who would get the job, but did he begin the process or did he end it? Could he promise Dave G. the job, or could he only say he’d try?

“Well…” he said uncertainly. He wished he could go ask Jason, and certainly he should have asked Jason what exactly his job was before now, but he didn’t think it appropriate to interrupt a meeting with an important actor. “I’m sure it depends on…certain things.”

“Dude, I get it,” Dave G. said, his voice deepening a bit, just as it had when he began his shomance with fellow
House-Bound
contestant Bree. This was exactly the sign Praline had been looking for. An even clearer sign occurred when Dave G. leaned in close and kissed him, which caused our perpetually hormonal hero to stop breathing entirely.

After weeks of fantasizing about exactly this moment, Praline couldn’t help but compare the real kiss with the fantasy kisses. Thankfully, it was almost as good. To be fair, Praline recognized that fantasy Dave G. had much more practice kissing him than real life Dave G., so he chalked up his very slight disappointment to a lack of experience.

Dave G. slipped his tongue tentatively into Praline’s mouth. Praline rested his hands on Dave G.’s wide shoulders, then ran
them
across the actor’s strong, flat back. While they kissed, it suddenly seemed as though the office began to move, the surviving picture on the wall tilted and the windows bounced a bit in their frames.

“Wow,” Praline said when they separated. “It was like the earth moved.”

“Actually, it did. That was a small earthquake,” Dave G. explained. “We get them a lot. You’re not from California, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” Praline said before kissing Dave G. again. It was so perfect. The tiny earthquake confirmed what Praline already knew. This was fate, God’s will and the Universe ganging up and giving him the man of his dreams, wet and otherwise.

Dave G.’s lips were so perfect they even felt symmetrical. As they kissed, Praline slipped his hands under Dave G.’s T-shirt. His torso was amazing
;
there were the tiniest groves along his ab muscles, not gaudy or over-done, just a delicious hint of definition. His pecs were smooth slabs of muscle and his nipples bounced to attention when Praline touched them.

Unable to wait any longer, Praline unzipped Dave G.’s jeans and pulled them down to his knees. He wasn’t wearing any briefs, and his semi-hard prick popped out and nudged Praline in the stomach. His cock was chubby and straight as an arrow. Dave G. kicked off his flip-flops and stepped out of his jeans.

Praline bent at the knees, anxious to get Dave G.’s cock into his mouth. But Dave G. stopped him and gently pushed him back a few inches. “Um, I don’t mean to rush you or anything, but I’ve got a five o’clock on the other side of town.”

Then, reaching into his murse, he pulled out a condom and travel-size tube of lube. He handed them to Praline and bent over the desk. Praline assumed this meant Dave G. was primarily a bottom. He didn’t mind. He hadn’t really had enough sex yet to decide whether he was a top or a bottom. Though, he did think, in a relationship of equals you should always be versatile. He hoped Dave G. was open to that. But, for now, he was thrilled to top his future husband.

Slipping on the condom, Praline couldn’t help but say, “Your ass is amazing.”

“Thank you,” replied Dave G. “I go to
Buttocks Bootcamp
three times a week. I’ve been told an actor’s ass is his best asset.” Then, as Praline was about to enter him, Dave G. peeked over his shoulder and asked, “Could you go slow? I’m a little sore. I had another audition this morning.”

At first, Praline was confused by this, but then realized Dave G. must have been auditioning for something that required the acrobatic skills he’d listed on his resume. It was, of course, disappointing that the whole thing had to be so rushed. On the other hand, it was exciting to be in love with an in-demand actor—and it certainly fit into his dream of becoming a same-sex celebrity spouse.

He eased his dick into Dave G.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Fuck that hole,” Dave G. said, and pushed his ass back further onto Praline’s dick.

The position was amazing
;
Praline loved staring at Dave G’s strong back, holding an ass cheek in each hand and pumping away. At first, he fucked him slowly, pulling his dick nearly all the way out and then sliding it back in
,
letting Dave G. feel the full length of it. Then, when he thought his lover was ready, he began thrusting. The room filled with the slapping sound of Dave G.’s ass against Praline’s thighs.

Fucking him was everything Praline had hoped. But still, he wanted to look into Dave G.’s face while he screwed him. Praline pulled out and led him over to the sofa. Dave G. took off his T-shirt and, slipping a cushion under his butt, opened himself up.

Climbing into position, Praline re-entered the love of his life. Curled beneath him, Dave G. looked up, theirs eyes locked, their breathing took on the same pace. Praline thrust again and again and with each lunge watched pleasure ripple through Dave G.’s body.

“I want to see you come,” Praline said, and the actor-slash-reality star began stroking his hard cock. Picking up speed, Dave G. pumped himself harder
;
squeezing his eyes shut, he came. The first wad whacked him on the chin, the second landed square on his breastbone. His sphincter muscles automatically clamped down on Praline’s cock and he too came with in a series of gasps and groans.

Afterwards, Praline gently kissed Dave G.
,
who smiled and eased himself out from under Praline. Without bothering to hunt for his clothes, he went to his murse and pulled out another resume shot. He brought it over to Praline
,
who sprawled naked on the sofa
,
too spent to have even taken off the jizz-filled condom.

“This is my new girlfriend,” Dave G. said, showing Praline a black and white photo of a blandly pretty blonde. “Her name’s Kelly Sheldon. She’s just really terrific, I think you’ll—”

“You have a girlfriend? But we just…”

“Oh, I’m not gay,” said Dave G. as he collected his clothes.

“You’re not?” A mixed marriage was not what Praline had in mind, but maybe he could find a way to make it work. “We just had sex and you, well, it seemed like you were having a really good time.”

Pulling his pants on, Dave G. blushed and lowered his eyes humbly. “I was acting.”

“Acting? No, I mean, you were really hard. You came…a lot. A whole lot. ”

“Uh-huh. Dude, check it out, in hospitals they have this electronic dildo thing that they use to extract sperm from coma patients and dead guys. They shove it up there and buzz-buzz, pop-pop. I mean, it’s the way guys work. It’s like anatomical.” Dave G. smiled his perfect smile. Praline was terribly wounded. He’d just been compared to an electronic anal device.

He was so wounded, in fact, that he didn’t notice Dave G. looking at him expectantly. “So I’m kind of wondering…you have a lot of parts to give out and, you know, maybe you’d like a regular thing.”

“A regular thing? You mean, I could fuck you on a regular basis?”