Beautiful Losers - Part Two

I woke up embraced. Jean had curled himself around me in his and I lay in the gray winter light trapped by a pale, carelessly flung arm and a stray leg. For a while, I listened to everyone breathe.

I had woken up in love - deeply, heartbreakingly, inappropriately in love.

It was bad enough that, for years, I had been lugging around a Godzilla-sized crush on Jean, but I had kind of learned to live with that and resigned myself to a platonic relationship with him. Only now it didn't seem very platonic any more and it had extended itself to Sebastian. I just couldn't see how I was going to brush this off casually and with the levity that I assumed was expected. I was moderately talented at pretending aloofness, but my heart was terribly plebian and not aloof at all.

Perhaps this was what had made me so deeply hesitant the night before? Now, of course, I was utterly miserable. As humiliating as it was to admit it, I simply wasn't mature or worldly enough to deal with it in a socially acceptable manner. I couldn't hang around until they woke up and go out to breakfast with them in the spirit of celebrating just a fun, crazy night.

Quietly and gently as I could, I eased Jean's arm back onto his own side and squirmed my legs out from between his. Now the full disadvantages of a waterbed became clear to me. I had to slither - belly down - off the frame and onto the floor to affect my escape without waking anyone.

Standing over them, watching them sleep, I got a little weepy while I pulled my clothes on. They were so, so lovely. The hunt for my underwear took a while and, when I found them at the bottom of the bed, remembered that they were unwearable anyway. Still, I tucked them into the pocket of my skirt, scared to leave any trace of my presence behind.

I caught a cab out on the street, lucky to find one because, when I glanced at the clock on the dashboard, it was only seven AM. I watched the grey and green city slip by feeling overwhelmed. I had a good long cry in the back of that taxi; the driver was terribly decent about it and didn't ask any questions.

Once home, I had planned to creep in and barricade myself in my room for a couple of days. As fate would have it, my roommate, Liz, was coming home from her nightshift at the hospital. I met her on the walkway up to our front door.

"Mm-mm, Shira! Still in your party clothes, I see. You look like you had some kind of night, girl!" Then she got a little closer, she caught my red-rimmed eyes and said, "Or maybe not. Who was the bastard?"

"It's not like that," I replied, waving away her scrutiny.

She threaded her arm through mine and unlocked the door. "You just get your butt into the kitchen and make some tea for us while I get out of my uniform. Then you can tell twisted Auntie Lizzie all about it."

I hesitated only a moment; it would be a relief to be able to unload on someone and, if there was anyone who would listen without judging, it was Lizzie. She was a psychiatric nurse with a penchant for rough, anonymous sex. Anything I could possibly say to Lizzie was going to seem like a Harlequin Romance.

The tea was steeping by the time she came into the kitchen in ripped up jeans and a death-metal t-shirt. Lizzie had a rather stunning if very feminine figure and I always wondered why she took so little pride in how she looked. Probably because she didn't have to - she'd look good covered in pig shit.

"Now - who's the bastard who made my Shira cry?" she said, taking a sip of tea from the silly mug we had acquired that said 'Fuck Me, I'm Blind'.

"Oh. It really isn't like that. Honestly."

"Then what's it like, sweetie?"

The tears welled up in my eyes and my face crumpled up. "I slept with Jean and Sebastian!" I sobbed.

Liz looked confused. "Okay. And... what's the problem?"

"N-now - oh shit, it's going to sound so dumb - now I'm..."

Liz raised one eyebrow and then launched in helpfully, "... you're what? Worried you have Aids? Good God, girl, did you fuck without a condom?"

"No! No! I'm... I'm in love..." I said miserably. "And don't tell me they're gay and I'm stupid - I know all that already."

"Which one?" She knew who they were; everyone knew who they were.

"Both."

"Oh."

I sobbed loudly for a while, hiccupping and making a general hullabaloo. To her credit, Liz just passed me a couple of paper napkins and sipped her tea quietly, staring out the window onto the untended, garbage-strewn backyard.

Finally I blew my nose, swiped at my mascara-stained tears and gave a deep, shuddering sigh. "See? It's bad."

Liz leaned across the kitsch chrome and melamine kitchen table and gave my arm a squeeze. "Yup, Shira, it's bad, but you'll live."

Nodding, I hauled myself out of the chair and took refuge in my bedroom. The bed was unmade from the day before and I was glad of it. It looked like a nice little nest to curl up and die in, which was metaphorically exactly what I did, clothes and all.

- - -

Something prodded me and it hurt. I rolled over and squinted up at what seemed like a giant cordless phone.

"What?" I complained hoarsely, craning my neck to look at my clock. I'd only been asleep for four hours.

"It's the phone." Liz jiggled it in front of me. "It's Jean."

"Tell him I'm out - or asleep - or dead."

"You tell him..." she quipped, dropping the phone on the pillow.

I gave her the look of a thousand painful deaths and retrieved the phone. "Hi?"

"Excuse me, but am I correct in thinking that you don't want to take my call?" Jean was doing someone's mother-from-hell impression.

"Jesus, Jean. I was just sleeping."

"And since when do civilized people fuck and run? Where are you, Shira? We want to go for breakfast. We need caffeine. We need pancakes. We need to commune and discuss things. The Elbow Room. We'll see you there in - say - about 30 minutes, right?"

"No. Really Jean, you go ahead. I'm too tired."

"Shira?" Jean's voice was harsh, not like him at all. "You wouldn't want us to think you didn't like us anymore. You wouldn't want to give us the impression that we hadn't been the perfect hosts, now would you?"

Then, of course, he hung up. That way he could be assured of avoiding the answer he didn't want. Manipulative bastard.

Liz stood, arms crossed, peering down at me. "Shira, get your ass out of bed. Right now, girl!" She grabbed my arm and hauled me up. Liz was a big girl and strong, too. She needed to be for her job manhandling all those poor lunatics she nursed. Suddenly I felt tremendous compassion for them.

Semi-conscious, miserable and confused, I let her pull me into the bathroom, take my clothes off and shove me in the shower. I went into automatic grooming mode as she took a seat on the toilet.

"You think this is going to turn out badly, don't you?"

I squinted through the shower spray. "Yes, I do. I'm hurt already and it's going to get worse if I don't just stay away from them."

"Maybe it will all work out nicely. You never know, Shira."

I looked at her incredulously as I soaped my underarms. "Excuse me, Liz, we are talking about a gay couple. Gay - they're gay - as in 'pussy icky-poo', get it?"

"Well, it wasn't so icky-poo last night, was it?"

"Yeah. But that had to be a little foray into the unknown on their part. Honestly, I think it was just a matter of Jean pitying me for being single. Before he met Sebastian, we used to hang out all the time. I think it was a kind of mercy fuck."

"Maybe. Was it a good mercy fuck?" She grinned, then her expression got serious. "Maybe people just aren't as black and white as you think, Shira."

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself. Halfway out the bathroom door, Liz coughed loudly.

"Teeth? Don't you want to brush your teeth?" Lizzie, the mother of lost souls, was keeping an eye out for my dental hygiene.

"Oh, yes. Thanks."

She bullied me the rest of the way out the door: she chose the clothes; she called the cab; at one point I actually thought she was just trying to get rid of me.

- - -

It was called the Elbow Room because there was so little of it. Saturday mornings were almost impossible. You had to know someone who worked there to get a seat. Of course, Jean did; he was the food critic for the trendiest 'what's on' magazine in town. Of course, his readers had no idea who he actually was, or what he looked like. He just had a knack for 'culinary prose' as he called it.

Jean and Sebastian were perched on the retro chrome stools at the counter and there was an empty one between them. I handed my coat to a snippy waitress and made my way over.

"Hi," I said, hesitantly.

Jean glowered at me. "Sit down. We're just a little upset with you right now. So just sit down."

I sat. Somehow, the fact that he was angry made me feel better. Perhaps things were getting back to normal.

Or perhaps not. Jean snaked his hand into my lap and clasped it under the counter. "Why didn't you wake us up, Shira?"

"Give her a break. She was suffering from angst." Sebastian looked at me, dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin and smirked. "Isn't that right, girl?" he asked. Wiping his hands meticulously, he put the serviette down, grabbed my face in both hands and kissed me loudly, right next to my ear. "I told you I'd respect you in the morning, you luscious slut," he whispered, before swiping my cheek with the tip of his tongue.

I knew this sort of banter. I knew it meant nothing. I tried to put on my most nonchalant smile, but I don't think I managed it.

Jean caught one of the counter-staff and ordered me breakfast without even asking what I wanted. "Well, angst or no angst, you can just imagine how it made us feel, Shira. Like we'd done something awful to you. What human with an ounce of goodwill doesn't stay for breakfast?"

My food arrived. It shocked me to realize how hungry I was. I chewed on a piece of toast and thought before answering. I couldn't be honest about why I'd left; I would lose every ounce of dignity I had.

"You know, I just thought maybe you would want some time to yourselves. I didn't want to be in the way." I looked from Jean to Sebastian and back, trying to discern if this was going to pass muster as an explanation. I could see from their faces that it wasn't - it had sounded fine to me.

"Thank you for including me in your thing, you know? It was great. Very fun. I appreciate it. Now it's time for me to find a mate of my own, so I can get on the ark with the rest of the animals."

"I thought you loved me, Shira." It was Jean and not very lighthearted either. It made my heart go crack.

"Oh Christ, Jean. I do like you - I love you! You know that. But you have Sebastian now and that's very cool. You're a couple." There was an awful dryness creeping up my throat and my eyes were starting to sting.

"What's this fucking couple thing? That's so fucking mindlessly normative! It's a totally baseless construct of a Judeo-Christian culture and I, for one, don't buy it," snapped Jean.

"How do you explain all the Hindu couples out there? Or all the couples in China? People are just meant to be couples, Jean." I was doing a fantastic job; I was even convincing myself.

"They're not any smarter or less brainwashed than anyone else. You think white people have a monopoly on stupidity?" My head swung around to Sebastian who was smirking in an intolerably self-satisfied way.

"Don't gang up on me. That's not fair. Anyway," I added, picking up another piece of toast and looking straight ahead. "I don't know what this has got to do with anything." I took a savage bite and swallowed. "I apologize for leaving so early. I certainly didn't mean to offend anyone. Can't we just leave it at that? Please?"

Jean leaned forward and looked past me to Sebastian. "Can we?"

Sebastian swiveled sideways on his stool to face mine and snatched the half-eaten piece of toast out of my hand. He bit into it and shook his head. "No," he said, sliding his arms around my waist. "No, we can't."

There was something about the physical contact that broke me. I looked over at Jean imploringly. "Please," I sobbed quietly at him, "don't do this to me. You're really going to hurt me. Please don't hurt me like this."

"Why would we hurt you, Shira?"

I sniffed and blinked away some tears. "This is just a little head game for you two. It's not for me."

That was it; I was raw and hanging out all over the Elbow Room. I felt Sebastian settle his sharp chin on my shoulder and I felt him mouth something to Jean.

"Yeah. Good idea," said Jean. "This is a dumb place to do this. Let's go home."

We walked back to Jean's apartment. The air was dry and crisp and spitefully cold. No one said anything at all, we just walked arm in arm. Walking that way with two people is easy, but not with three; somehow everyone has to synchronize or you get a lot of jolting. It reminded me of the sex the night before.

Jean's apartment is beautiful but not warm. It's too sparse and clinical to be cozy. The smell of gutted candles still stained the air. I was shivering quite badly by the time we got there and didn't want to be parted with my coat. In fact, feeling rather melodramatic at the time, I thought I was going into shock.

"It's not that cold in here, Shira. I've got the heating on full blast," said Jean looking concerned.

"I know, I know - I'm just cold," I stammered. "I'll warm up in a sec, don't worry."

He put a cool hand to my forehead. "You have a fever, I think."

"Seriously, no I don't. I'll be fine."

"Sebastian, sweetie. Run a bath will you? And get her into it," he instructed, matron-like. How many mothers can one girl have?

"I'm fine."

"No you're not, Shira. I'll get the brandy. Brandy cures everything." He walked into the kitchen calling out: "And a spliff cures everything that brandy misses."

I sat on the edge of the couch hugging myself. I just couldn't stop shivering. I thought maybe it was my body rebelling against all the emotional danger I was getting myself into.

Sebastian walked into the living room and pulled me to my feet. "Come on, Shira. It's family bath-time." He sounded exactly like an insane game-show host.

It couldn't have been that warm in the apartment because the bathroom was a world of swirling mist. Jean had the bathroom of your dreams - big and black, with one of those big wedge-shaped corner tubs. I had attended him often while he soaked of an evening, preparing to go out, usually as the person who fetched the wine.

I climbed out of my clothes with some help from Sebastian. It seemed stupid to be shy about it, but still I was. He said something over the roar of the water but I couldn't hear him. All of a sudden, the thought of being fully immersed in boiling water seemed really attractive. I climbed in, wincing at the temperature and closed my eyes. It felt very good - like honey - and my skin started to tingle in the extreme heat.

I opened them again to see Sebastian, fully naked, turning the tap off. He climbed in next to me and wedged himself against the corner of the tub. His long legs got tangled in mine. It was a big tub, but not that big.

"Come here, Shira. You have to sit between my legs."

"Why?" I muttered, eyeing him warily.

"Because otherwise there won't be any room for Jean." He grabbed me and hauled me bodily into place between his legs and pulled me back until I was lying against his chest. "And he's the man with the goodies, so we want to make sure he can fit." He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me snug against him. I closed my eyes and just let the warmth sink into my bones, making me sleepy.

Suddenly a thought struck me, and the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to explain a whole lot. "Am I here because Jean won't let you fuck him?"

"No."

"No."

My eyes snapped open, Jean stepped into the water, bottle of Cognac in one hand and a very large, lit joint in the other.

"Spread your legs, honey," said Jean.

I would have done it myself if Sebastian hadn't hooked his feet around my ankles and done it for me. Jean settled down in front of me, his legs on either side. Now the tub didn't seem so huge after all.

I gazed, heavy lidded at my friend. Was he that? My friend who I adored? He seemed so exotic with his kohl lined eyes and finely shaped brows. He passed the joint to Sebastian and took a swig of the brandy before offering me the bottle. I took it by the neck with a shaky hand and raised it to my lips. The liquid felt like warm lava snaking down my throat, burning as it descended. I passed it back to Sebastian without turning and, by way of a trade, a joint appeared before my face. I sucked on it and passed it forward to Jean. Reality slipped sideways, which wasn't, strictly speaking, a bad thing.

"Can we continue with our discussion at breakfast?" I could feel Sebastian's voice rumble against my spine.

"Yes, let's do," said Jean.

I nodded and caught the brandy on its way around and took another swallow. "Sure."

Jean's hand skated along my thigh in the water. It was an interesting touch, I thought. Kind of like a lover, kind of sisterly - odd. "We would like you to... join the family," said Jean, a tinge of humour in his voice. It was his turn to quote Rocky Horror Show lines today.

"Why?" It was a curt question, but it was the only one I had.

Jean shifted towards me a bit; the water sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the tub and meant his knees popped out of the water. "Shit, Sebastian, move forward a bit."

Sebastian, being the right size, just picked me up and moved me, along with himself. I heard water spatter to the tiles.

"I'm trying to pledge my troth - or whatever - and you're grinning. It makes it hard if you do," said Jean.

I hadn't realized I was grinning at all. I tried my best to relax my facial muscle, but that only made it worse. "Then you shouldn't have gotten me stoned first!" I giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck. He was beautiful, my lovely friend, so beautiful.

"I adore you, Shira. You are my best, best friend. Isn't that good enough? I love you."

I gazed at him, and then tilted my head to see if any of this would make more sense on an angle. "Uh, you're the one who told me that vaginas scared you to death. You don't like pussy, Jean, admit it."

"But I love the rest of you. And the pussy - well - I'll just have to get to know it better." He shrugged and then shook his head, dismissing some thought or other. "You know how unfamiliar things freak people out?"

I thought for moment, threading my wet fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. " You love Sebastian. I knew it the moment I first saw you two together. I think you were meant for each other. What about Sebastian?" Squirming around a little, I looked over my shoulder at his lover.

He must have mistaken the look I gave him or the tone of my voice because he looked like someone had accused him of a crime. "Hey, I like pussy."

"No, no. I mean how do you feel about all this?"

"I feel fine about this. I'm not going to say I love you - I don't know you yet - but I like you..." He kissed my forehead. "And you are, please take this the right way, exceptionally fuckable."

"Thanks, I think..."

Jean cocked his head and leveled his gaze to mine. "So that just leaves us with you, Shirakins. What do you think?" Beneath the water, he gave my thigh a little prompting squeeze. "Come, on. Do tell."

I scootched a little closer to Jean until I could cross my ankles behind him. "Stop groping my leg. I can't think if you do."

"Don't think at all," whispered Sebastian from behind.

That's when, after months and months of wanting to, I pulled Jean's face to mine and kissed him. It felt nothing like I thought it would feel. My heart raced, I couldn't breathe, and his lips were sinfully divine. Soft and hard all at the same time, they twitched and opened beneath mine and I sank into his gorgeous mouth. I searched out his tongue and sucked it back into me, stroking it with my own. I kissed him and kissed him for all the months I had dreamed of doing it. Nothing I had dreamed was as good as that. I caught his hair in my hand and wouldn't let him go.

I felt Sebastian's hands cross around and cup my tits; his lips grazed the back of my neck, pushing my hair away with his chin and going for the skin beneath it. I sighed into Jean's mouth and reached between us to graze my fingers over his nipples beneath the waterline. He shuddered and sighed. It was the inadvertent brushing of the back of my arm against the tip of his cock that made me smile wide and break the kiss. I moved my hand and encircled his very, very definite erection.

"Thank god," I panted, looking at Jean. "I was so worried you didn't like me that way."

"Me too," said Jean, a faint tremble in his voice, and then he laughed. "I wasn't quite sure how I was going to feel."

"Would it be possible to move this conversation to the bed?" said Sebastian. "I'm wrinkling up in here."

losers1

My primary motivation for posting my work online is to maintain a relationship with my readers.
This means, if I don't get any feedback, I won't be nearly as motivated to make my writing public.
Please keep this in mind before you "read and leave"