Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
The evening progressed, as the evening always did, with staggered arrivals. Most of the guys came directly from work, exhausted and in desperate need of an evening caffeine pick-me-up, which the host met with energy drinks and snacks. When we met at my apartment, my staff laid out a buffet mix of junk food and health food; half of my friends were perpetually training for some physical endurance contest, the other half lived off stuff that had mostly synthesized ingredients. I did not judge, because he who is without the occasional gut full of Mountain Dew and Doritos cast the first stone.
Snacks and focused socializing happened in our formal living room. The casual, group masturbation happened in the media room, where there were plenty of couches and chairs, lubes and tissues, and optional condoms for the guys self-conscious about mess. Not that anyone was very self-conscious; the dress code ranged from open flies to total strip-down. Crisp surround sound carried the moans and wet slapping noises of the porn on the 115” plasma tv.
Sometimes, I didn’t jerk off at all while I was hosting. There was a pressure on me to be available to my guests that came from years of proper manners and hospitality. When my mother had trained Catherine and I in all those genteel society ways, I was one hundred percent sure that she’d never intended for me to apply my knowledge to a room full of heavy-breathing, lightly perspiring bros with their dicks in their hands. Still, it was hard to shake the deeply rooted urge to be present for everyone.
Alex came out of the media room and grabbed some hand sanitizer, rubbing it in as he approached me.
“Record time this week, man,” he said with a bashful laugh. “I needed that. Something about your apartment is super relaxing.”
“The altitude,” I answered automatically. “The oxygen is thinner up here.”
“Then why do I have such trouble staying hard in Denver?”
We laughed, but his died away faster than mine. He gave me a long, serious look. “Everything okay? I know I just saw you, but those were different circumstances. Now that you’re back, how are you holding up?”
“With this.” I leaned my hip against the snack table and popped my cane up, waving it in front of me.
“That’s not what I meant.” At Ascend Red, Alex was all about play. But in our friendship beyond the resort’s shores, he worried about me like I was a little brother. Which was weird, considering he was ten years younger than me.
“Things are going great. There was a hiccup with Charlotte when we got back, but she’s here now.” I clarified, “Living here, I mean. She’s not in the apartment right now. She’s out running around with Neil Elwood’s wife.”
“I see that girl all over Page Six,” Alex warned. “Be careful or Charlotte’s gonna end up on there with her.”
“I’m surprised the Elwoods don’t have a reality show yet,” I said, and felt like that might be a cheap shot.
“That Sophie does look like Kim,” he mused. “So, you’ve got a live-in girlfriend. You’re settling down with her. I knew that would happen when I met her.”
“She’s perfect for me.” I could state that confidently now that she wasn’t going to run away.
“I’m glad you’re happy.” Alex hesitated, then said, “Nah, I’m not gonna say it.”
I hated when people did that. “You might as well, now that I know there’s something to say.”
Alex sighed and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, clearly resolved but prepping for what he wanted to say. “Look, I know we’ve only been friends for like three years. So, maybe I don’t know you like this. But I did see what your previous relationship was like and... I think you should be careful.”
I bristled. “What, do you think Charlotte is a gold digger or something?”
“I think everyone is, at heart, a gold digger,” he said firmly. “But it’s not her you should be careful of. You move through...phases of fascination—”
“That would be a good album title,” I interjected.
“Not really.” He continued with his original point. “From what I saw on the island, you two are super compatible. But that’s on the island. That’s all sex. Now, you’re back in your old life after how long?”
I tried to mentally add it up. “Six months?”
“You’re still learning how to walk, you’ve got a lot of new challenges, and then you’re adding a brand-new relationship into the mix. On hyper speed. She’s already living with you.”
“That’s because I couldn’t stand to be away from her.” Okay, not the healthy answer I was going for. “That sounds worse than it is.”
“But it’s not one of those Florence Nightengale syndrome things where you’re falling for her because she stood by you through your injury?” he asked warily.
I shook my head. “No. In fact, Charlotte was most helpful through my recovery because she didn’t take an interest in making me better. She asked about my injuries and kept in touch with me, but when everything in my life was completely focused on my leg and trying not to get another blood clot and die, she was this other part. Set aside from all the hospital shit and the dressing changes and the pain. She gave me something else to focus on.”