Savory, Bitter and Sweet - 1. Chapter 1

A sharp report sounded near his ear, breaking his slumber. Ian startled awake and found himself staring into brown eyes framed by a pair of trendy, square glasses.

“Shit,” he greeted the morning and levered himself into a sitting position on the sofa with a groan. "I didn't mean to fall asleep here."

“Here” was the reception area of his law office and the brown eyes belonged to Curtis…something… Moore or Miller. He was the office manager at the law firm where Ian had joined as a partner less than a month ago. He’d not had many interactions with the man, had avoided them if he were honest with himself. His secretary handled his administrative needs.

"It's still pretty early. Just before 7am. You haven't missed much of the day." The man informed Ian of this from a distance of less than two feet. His slight frame was perched delicately on the coffee table, legs crossed at the knee, one well shod foot tapping the air. A suit in unlikely green hung precisely on Curtis’s perfectly proportioned body like the brilliant plumage of some exotic creature. A tropical bird, perhaps. Or a lizard. A stack of the day’s newspapers lay next to him. The sound of them being dropped on the table was undoubtedly what had awoken Ian.

Brown eyes studied Ian with open friendliness. Other than a handshake in greeting on his first day, Ian had had no interaction with Curtis. He was suddenly conscious of his tousled hair and wrinkled clothes, victims of the less than salubrious night on the couch. He stood abruptly, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes to speed the wake up process. "Court resumes at 10 today. I’m starting the cross on a witness who was on the stand three days for the prosecution. Spent the night prepping."

"So I gathered." Curtis stood as well, ruefully tossing his head at the reception area.

Ian winced as he took in the room battered by notepads, balled up paper, easels and empty soda cans. "I guess my trial team got a little stir crazy last night. We moved from the conference room into reception after hours for a change of scenery. I'll help get it cleared up before..."

Curtis raised a hand. "No need to explain, Ian. Thanks for the offer but trust me, we've seen this before. I'll have janitorial services sweep through here. Anything that looks like work product will be delivered to your office. Now…"

Curtis raked his eyes over Ian, obviously inspecting him. Ian took another step or two back. "What do you need to get in shape for court? Don't know if you caught it on the office tour when you started with us, but the firm has shower facilities down on floor 22. The dry cleaners across the street can press your clothes in a rush, but it’s too late to have them cleaned. I can set up car service to the courthouse if your secretary hasn't already arranged it."

The words flowed past Ian as he watched Curtis remove empty coffee cups and soda cans from the seating and stack them on the coffee table. When was the last time he’d encountered anyone under the age of 60 wearing a bow tie in the office? The thought floated derisively through his head even as he felt a zip of sexual attraction for this fussily dressed dandy.

"Are you always this organized so early in the day?" Ian started towards the elevators, aware of the surly tone of his question.

Curtis, however, was not put off. The man followed him into the elevator. Number 22 lit up on the panel when Ian jammed it with his finger.

"You said you have an appearance at 10 today. I figured you’d want a shower, fresh clothes..." Curtis shrugged away the last of his sentence. "My job is to make sure the firm’s attorneys have what they need to do their job."

The car settled with an airy bounce and the doors slid open. Both exited at the 22^nd floor and turned off in the general direction of the southeast corner. Why was this prissy queer following him? Ian started to lengthen his stride, intending to pull away from Curtis but suddenly thought better of it. He hadn’t been to the gym in months. Weight had settled around his gut, added unwanted padding to his ass.

Though small of stature, Curtis obviously looked after his own body. It was a slender package of sinew and muscle. Walking behind Ian, the man would certainly notice how his ass filled the wrinkled trousers in an overly generous way. Ian’s own boyfriend had lately been dropping hints that Ian needed to get to the gym, that his weight gain was bordering on the unattractive.

“How are you getting on here? Has the transition to a new firm been difficult for your clients?” Curtis’s expression hadn’t lost its polite friendliness. Ian wondered if the man realized that Ian, too, was gay. Perversely, as uncomfortable as the flamboyant manager made Ian, he would have been gratified by some indication of interest, an acknowledgement from the other man of their shared sexual orientation.

“It’s gone as well as can be expected.” Ian responded. “Look, I don’t need an escort. I’ll find the showers without your help.”

Curtis paused and Ian stopped with him. He flushed as the younger man studied him for a moment. “My office is on this floor, just beyond the showers.”

With that simple statement, he moved forward again. The friendly light in the warm, brown eyes had dimmed a bit but his tone was no less professional when he’d spoken. Ian trailed foolishly.

At the door marked “Shower” he stopped, rested a hand on the handle.

“Curtis,” he watched the tight, curved ass come to a halt. It was pert and perfect and subtly flaunted in the sharply pressed, green trousers. An apology for his terseness hovered on his lips but instead of issuing forth, what came out was, “Towels?”

“Inside, along with standard toiletries.” Curtis nodded at him and Ian turned the handle to enter. Just at the last moment he thought he detected a bit of curiosity in the look Curtis gave him, a bit of sexual suggestiveness. Surely he held at least some appeal for a femme like Curtis. He was tall, educated, well-off. He had all his hair. He was in sight of forty, but could pass for early thirties.

Stripping in front of the mirror, he assessed his body. It still wasn’t too bad. A little softer than a couple years ago; he’d loosed the belt a notch, but he hadn’t been forced into a new suit size yet. A bit of dedication at the gym would get him into shape. He pushed away the unsettling memory of waking to those warm, friendly brown eyes or any inspection of why he sought the interest of a man he had no interest in himself.

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Despite the night spent in the reception area of his office, Ian’s spirits were high when he let himself into the residence he shared with his boyfriend, Jared. It was just past 10pm, another late night after court ended. The cross examination of the witness had gone well today. Jurors had been attentive; he could sense a turning point in the trial.

Ian looked forward to recapping the progress of the trial, and particularly today’s questioning, with Jared. The two of them had met in law school. Jared had pursued a career in corporate law while Ian had become a litigator.

In the foyer, Ian heard voices, faint laughter, coming from further in the house. Disappointment loomed out of the darkness. He made his way down the hallway, suspicions confirmed when he saw the door to the downstairs bedroom closed and light seeping from the small gap at the bottom. Continuing on to the kitchen, he set his briefcase on the counter and rooted around in the fridge for leftovers.

Disappointment strangled his appetite. Heaping food onto a plate anyway, he stared at the tiles of the kitchen floor while it circled in the microwave. They needed updating; he should bring up the idea of remodeling the kitchen with Jared.

Unbidden, a memory from early in their relationship, when they were in the process of decorating the playroom, the bedroom here on the bottom floor of their home, drifted through his mind. Not wanting to bring outside lovers into their bedroom, they’d given some attention to designing a room designated for tricks.

“Baskets.” Jared had declared. They’d been standing in a department store choosing bed linens for the king size bed. In those days, it hadn’t been uncommon for them to bring home a third person from the clubs. “We put a bunch of baskets along the headboard and fill them with different types of condoms, packets of lube. We can add some in the guest bathroom too, make sure there are always extra toothbrushes on hand.”

Almost from the beginning they had decided on an open relationship. Ian could have gone either way on that, but Jared hadn’t even considered total monogamy.

“Monogamy will never work for men.” After watching his father cheat his way through marriage to his mother, Jared had been insistent on this fact. “It’s literally impossible.”

Ian himself enjoyed the variety of what was available in their city with a thriving gay population. He’d not pushed the idea of monogamy very hard, and in the early days, he’d been as active as Jared in picking up tricks. Vaguely, he’d always assumed that he and Jared would mature into a monogamous relationship, maybe even look at adopting children and modeling a traditional family.

That, however, was not the direction their relationship had taken. Instead, Jared was increasing his nights with a lover du jour in the playroom at the same rate Ian was increasing his nights working late at the office. Ian had once tried to bring up the “rules” of their open relationship but Jared had shrugged off the discussion. “Why should I sit at home by myself at night while you’re working?”

Still, Jared was everything Ian wanted in a partner. He was accomplished, rational, came from a similar background. Ian knew for a fact that Jared would never don a bow tie with anything other than a tuxedo. He would never wear a suit that put one in mind of a gecko.

Amorous sounds from the playroom rose as the microwave beeped. Jared was not a noisy lover so the sounds must be from his hook-up. Ian made his way upstairs. His blackberry buzzed on the way up and he juggled the hot plate and briefcase in order to answer the phone.

“Is this Ian? It’s Curtis Miller. From the office.”

The smiling brown eyes he’d awoken to this morning. The prancing, perfect body. The fey manners that loudly announced “I’m gay”. Ian’s stomach looped.

“Yes, this is Ian. What’s going on?”

“We received a late delivery here and weren’t sure if you needed it tonight. Looks like a deposition transcript?”

Damn. He’d forgotten to tell the court reporter he no longer needed that on a rush.

“No problem, Curtis. I don’t need it tonight.”

“Great. Congratulations on today’s cross examination by the way. I heard some of the younger associates discussing it. They said you were brilliant.”

“Well, thanks for whipping me into shape this morning. I should have said something earlier.” Still holding the phone to his ear, Ian slid the dinner plate on the night stand by his bed, dropped his briefcase and kicked off his shoes. Leaning against the headboard, he found himself describing his day to the office manager at his new firm. The man asked surprisingly insightful questions for a layperson. He was funny too, and Ian found himself smiling more frequently than he had in weeks. Finally, when he realized that Curtis was still at the office, he said his good-byes.

Once he’d disconnected, Ian stared at the wall across from the bed and picked at the lukewarm food on the plate. He’d always been attracted to men like Curtis – those fey, flamboyantly gay, almost girlish men. There had been one kid like that in his high school. The weird kid who got picked on constantly but still would wear huge sunglasses and do crazy things like dye his hair peach and turquoise. Louis. He had been Ian’s first crush and Ian had hated him with a passion. Ian had hated knowing that not only was he gay, he was gay for those mincing, femme males.

Those types of gay men would never be taken seriously. He tried to imagine a Curtis or a Louis arguing a motion before a judge or making closing arguments in front of a jury. It would never work. They were too outré, too out, too gay. That’s why Ian only dated men like himself. Regular guys. Straight acting and appearing. The ones like Louis, like Curtis, he distanced himself from them. He wasn’t that type of gay.

Walking the empty plate back to the kitchen, Ian studiously ignored the sounds from the downstairs room. He methodically finished getting ready for bed, sliding by himself between the sheets. He thought about Curtis Miller, who had ended up being the first and last person with whom he’d spoken today and who had improved his day in both instances. He was recounting their phone conversation, hearing both Curtis’s laughter and his own, as he fell asleep.

The trial continued for another week before reaching a successful outcome for his client. There had been no more late night laughter with the office manager. Curtis faded once more into the background, as much as anyone who wore plaid suits with panache could be said to fade anywhere.

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With the conclusion of the trial, Ian made good on the promise to himself to lose weight. He joined a gym where he managed to fit in workouts over the lunch hour. Little else changed in his schedule either at home or the office.

He was walking through the lobby of a local hotel, where he’d just finished meeting with a potential new client, when a sunburst of color caught his attention. The sunburst was walking rapidly across the other side of the lobby.

“Curtis. Of course.” Ian thought. This was not the first time Ian had noticed Curtis’s vibrant locks. “How can a grown man go through life with the hairstyle of a clown?”

His formerly light brown hair was now a sunburst of red, orange, yellow and blond. Despite the unkind thought, Ian couldn’t but notice that there was a certain appeal to the outrageous colors and that the hair itself was impeccably cut. Today, the sunburst coordinated with the orange corduroy slacks Curtis wore.

Ian was not the only person whose head had turned to track Curtis’s progress, though Curtis himself failed to notice the attention. His head was bent over his phone as he walked, one thumb moving rapidly over the keypad.

“Whoa,” Curtis stopped abruptly as Ian stepped into his path. He made to move around him, then realized he recognized the person blocking his way. “Ian, hello, sorry for nearly running you down there.”

“Curtis,” Ian nodded in greeting. “What brings you out to this part of the city?”

“Afternoon rendezvous, of course.” Brown eyes danced under the shocking hairdo.

A stab of envy struck Ian but whether it was envy of the fact that Curtis had the opportunity for a midday fling or envy of the man with whom he was meeting, Ian could not divine. He must have looked disapproving at the revelation because when he didn’t respond, Curtis emitted a crack of laughter.

“Kidding, Ian. I am here for an assignation but it’s of a gastronomical nature, not sexual. The hotel’s banquet services are providing me with a tasting. I’m picking the menu for the firm's Christmas party.”

“It’s June.” The short response was imbued with criticism. Something about Curtis brought out the worst in Ian.

As usual, the man disregarded his rudeness. His eyes drifted over him and Ian imagined there was a suggestive glint, something more than professional in the perusal. Curtis finally responded to Ian’s remark. “Based on that curt response, I’d say you need a little Christmas cheer even in June. Tara, my assistant, was hoping to meet me here but texted that she can’t make it. Why don’t you join me?”

Suddenly there was nothing more appealing than spending a couple hours with this bright peacock. “I really need to get back to the office.”

“You’re choice, but if you can spare the time, the company would be great. It’s just a tasting. You won’t be adding many calories to that trim bod you’re sporting these days.” There was nothing hidden about his appreciation now. Even Jared hadn’t yet bothered to comment on Ian's weight loss.

“Thank you. I’d be pleased to join you.”

“So formal,” Curtis shook his head mockingly. “We’ll need to get you a glass of wine to start.”

Ian found himself being led by the arm down a long hallway flanked by conference rooms named after trees. They passed the Pine, the Spruce, the Cypress. They were drawing attention, stares that were less than covert, as they wove among convention attendees mingling in the hallway. That is, Curtis drew attention with his loud attire and a strutting walk that said, “Look my way!”

“I’m gay and I’m out.” Ian reminded himself even as he cringed inwardly and resisted the urge to jerk his arm out from Curtis’s hold. He and Jared usually downplayed their relationship in public. They were a couple, but they didn’t go skipping through hotel lobbies hand in hand. For all the looks they were getting, he and Curtis might as well be doing just that.

Finally Curtis stopped before an elevator and press the button. “They’re hosting the tasting in the cocktail bar on the top floor. The views are stunning.”

“You’ve done this before then?”

“Every year.”

Sure enough, Curtis was greeted familiarly, and Ian graciously, as they stepped off the elevator. They were led to low cushioned seats in a discreet corner of the lounge were they could take in the view of the city all the way to the river.

Though the cocktail seating was designed for two, it was a cozy arrangement. Brushing up against one another was unavoidable as a parade of miniscule courses was brought out for them to sample. Ian was rarely called upon for his opinion and when it became apparent he could remain in the background as Curtis discussed the menu with their hostess, he relaxed and let his mind wander.

It was unusual and welcome, not to be the one calling the shots. He watched Curtis as he worked, and he realized the man really was working. He wasn’t here just for a fun benefit to planning a party. He was taking notes on each of the items of food they were served. He discussed pros and cons of pairing of dishes, asked about preparation and cost for the numbers of guests he anticipated, investigated how the staff dealt with special dietary requests. Curtis enjoyed his work and, Ian realized, he was good at it.

Curtis’s table manners were exactly as Ian had envisioned. Very proper. Almost prissy. He sat straight. A napkin lay very precisely over one knee and he dabbed at the corners of his mouth with it from time to time.

He has a womanly way about him, Ian thought.

Only this time he didn’t hide from the thought. There was no inward retreat from the attraction to this male with no hint of machismo. Instead desire rose, increased as he listened to Curtis talk, watched him move. At first glance the mannerisms appeared to be affectations, but they looked so right on Curtis, so natural, that Ian found it impossible to envision Curtis loose-limbed, lounging into the cushions as Ian was doing. He suddenly wished intensely that he and Curtis were alone. He wanted to see what it would take to unravel the man next to him. Wanted to see him unbuttoned, unsure, undone.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Curtis.” The woman who had been discussing the menu with Curtis rose. “I think you’ve put together a good menu for your party this year. I’ll leave you to finish your desserts.”

Both Curtis and Ian stood to say their good-byes. Once she departed they sat again, taking in the view. Behind them, glassware clinked as wait staff set the tables and prepped the bar for the start of cocktail hour.

“A good suggestion, this” Ian saluted Curtis with the forkful of chocolate flan. “I can’t remember spending such an enjoyable afternoon for a very long time.”

Curtis gave him a wry smile. “No need to exaggerate, big guy. Frankly I was surprised you accepted. Didn’t think you cared much for me.“

Ian brushed a hand over Curtis’s back. “I’m not exaggerating. I truly had a good time here this afternoon. I had a good time with you.”

Ian turned on the sofa so that he was partially facing Curtis and the other man did the same. This time Ian was the one to let his eyes do the suggestive roving. What was his real concern with being seen with Curtis, that he wouldn’t be taken seriously? Curtis seemed to be getting through life just fine, at least professionally.

As for his personal life, Ian suspected Curtis had no problems there either. He had a very fine body under all that primping. Slender, but not boyish, not effete.

“What are you thinking?” Curtis had propped an elbow on the back of the seat and was resting his head on a fist.

“You’re not really womanly.” Ian reached a hand out, straightened the lapels of the other man’s jacket though there was nothing off about them. “I’ve always avoided men like you. But I shouldn’t.”

“Wow.” Curtis laughed. “I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting quite that level of raw honesty. Does that work with your partner? Jared, isn’t it? And I take it he’s not like me?”

“Jared’s more like me. We’ve been together a long time and I suppose we’re about as good at communicating as any long term couple. As for the “raw honesty” as you put it, I’ll admit I’m a bit rusty at the flirtation thing.”

Curtis’s eyes deepened. “Is that what we’re doing here? Flirting?”

“I hope so.” Ian whispered.

Conversation carried loudly across the room as the first arrivals for cocktail hour emerged from the hotel elevator and entered the lounge.

“Come home with me, Curtis. Jared and I have an understanding. It’s all very above board, and he’s out of town this weekend anyway.”

Curtis didn’t respond right away and Ian felt his chest compressing as his proposal hung in the air. The little femme was actually going to turn him down. He could feel his jaw setting, the ugly thoughts rising where just moment before desire had been.

“There’s all sorts of reasons I should say “no” Ian, starting with the fact that there’s a whole lot that I don’t like about you.”

Ian’s head snapped back at that, but before he could formulate a response Curtis continued.

“I see, though, that I have a chance to be a sort of “first” for you. The first fey, femme queer you’ve bedded. I really want to be there for that. Plus, something tells me that it’s been a long time since you’ve had a good fucking, a raw, honest fucking. And I really want to be there for that too.”

In one elegant move, Curtis rose to his feet. Looking down, he quirked a brow. “Well?”

Ian, too, stood. Curtis started to move off, but Ian caught him by the arm. Placing his fingers under the shorter man’s jaw, he turned his head and leaned down, covering those prim, perfect lips in a kiss. Before Curtis could decide whether to give in or pull away, he lifted his head. “I plan to make sure there’s plenty you like about me by morning time. You are in for the fucking of your life.”

Curtis had the audacity to give him a skeptical look. “We’ll see.”

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Curtis was still sleeping late Sunday morning when Ian returned with the newspaper, two coffees and breakfast sandwiches. Rather than root around in his kitchen, Ian had walked down to the local bistro for take-out. Leaving everything on the counter, he went back down the hall to check on the man with whom he’d spent the past two nights. Leaning on the doorjamb, he watched the steady rise and fall of Curtis’s chest, the relaxed face satisfied, satiated. The stunning colors dyed into his hair and pale skin gave him an ethereal appearance as he slumbered among the navy sheets.

Curtis had firm lips. Ian knew this without a doubt. They’d covered his, kissed him thoroughly during the last 36 hours. They’d worked him, moved confidently over his body, teased the angles and curves, delved into the crevices. They were parted in sleep, full, their firmness slightly bruised. Ian’s cock thickened at the sight, began a return to the bruising hardness of the night before. Briefly, he considered re-joining Curtis in bed.

“He needs the rest.” He reasoned to himself as he turned away. Strictly speaking, Ian should need an equal amount of rest. He’d been insatiable for Curtis that first night, taking him with the urgency of a soldier back from a year-long deployment, with the stamina of a teen-ager and about as much finesse. Curtis had responded to the lovemaking, fallen into it, given himself to Ian with a pleasing, knowing submissiveness. Ian had shuddered into him again and again.

They had slept much of the day on Saturday, awoke and fucked again in the afternoon. Curtis had insisted on leaving after that round of lovemaking.

“You’ve been a lot of fun, Ian.” Curtis had brushed Ian’s hair back from his face as he said this, was tracing the stubble along his jawline. “Totally not what I expected but a lot of fun.”

“So stay until Monday. We can have a lot more fun.”

Curtis had laughed and rolled out of bed. Ian admired the perfection of the man’s ass as he headed for the shower. “Busy weekend, Ian. Can’t spend all of it with my Friday night hook-up.”

Ian had fallen back among the sheets as the shower went on. Curtis was right. This was a serendipitous sexual encounter. They weren’t on a date.

He’d driven Curtis back to his small one bedroom apartment located near the office. He’d been unable to avoid sending a couple flirty emails to the man later that day however, and Curtis had responded in an equally light-hearted manner. Finally, near midnight on Saturday, he’d sent one final message, “Just thinking about what we were doing 24 hours ago.”

There had been no return text. Ian had just turned out the lights, preparing for sleep, when a knock came at the door. When he opened it Curtis was on the doorstep, surprising casual in jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Yesterday at the restaurant you told me I was in for the fucking of my life.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, tonight you’re in for yours.” And with that Curtis had pushed him inside, backed him up against a wall, and started his assault with those firm, mobile lips.

Seated at his kitchen counter now, Ian read the paper, noted that a theater company was hosting some outdoor Shakespeare next week. He wondered if Curtis enjoyed the theater, enjoyed Shakespeare. Jared and he had differing interests in the arts. Over the years, they’d attended fewer and fewer performances together. When he heard the shower come on, he put Curtis’s coffee in the microwave to heat it up.

“Can’t believe how late I slept.” Curtis strode into the kitchen with a rueful smile. The backpack he’d arrived with last night was hooked over one shoulder.

Ian eyed it as he pushed the mug of coffee toward Curtis. “Hope you’re planning to stay for breakfast, maybe even lunch and dinner.”

“I really need to be on my way.” He swallowed some of the brew, winced at the temperature, then downed a couple more gulps. “It’s been an incredible weekend, Ian. We were hot together, huh?”

Curtis didn’t sit down and Ian stood as well, leaned against the counter. “Yes, hot. Listen Curtis, I understand if you have things to do today, but I was thinking maybe next weekend…there’s a Shakespeare festival…”

But Curtis was shaking his head. “No, Ian. Don’t go down that path.”

The brown eyes were looking at him now with something like sympathy. Ian crossed his arms. “Why the hell not? I like you. We had a good weekend. Why can’t this continue?”

“Because I’m a trick, Ian. I’m the guy you picked up on Friday and brought home for the weekend. You have a long-term relationship. I don’t know the specifics of the arrangement you guys have for outside sex, and I don’t want to know, right? I’m not interested in being that involved.”

“We work in the same place, you know.”

“Yes, we do.” Curtis stared at him and Ian grew uncomfortable. Why had he brought up their working relationship? He would never use his authority at the firm as coercion for sex or coercion for anything. So why had he said that?

“I don’t like feeling powerless.” He admitted to Curtis. “And I feel that way right now, but that’s no excuse for implying I’d use my position in the firm against you.”

“Frankly, I’m not sure you could even if you tried, but apology accepted.”

Curtis stared at Ian a moment longer, opened his mouth to speak. Then with a shake of his head, he turned away and headed for the door. “See you at the office.”

At the front door Ian called after him. “What were you going to say just now?”

Curtis turned back to him. “I was going to ask you something that’s really none of my business.”

“Go ahead.”

Curtis squinted at him, the bright locks at odds with the seriousness of his expression. “Are you happy Ian? In general. Not just right now.”

“Sure.” Ian shrugged, answering automatically.

Curtis continued walking.

“What advice would you give me if I told you I’m not happy, not often happy?”

“That you should talk to Jared, Ian. Maybe ask him the same question.”

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Ian didn’t immediately take the advice Curtis had offered. Summer passed with Ian contemplating his level of happiness, the weekend with Curtis returning frequently to mind. He and Jared vacationed together, traveling up to Vancouver and Victoria in Canada. They were companionable but distant and upon their return, Ian found himself contemplating the question of happiness more frequently. It was Halloween night when Ian finally took Curtis’s advice and asked Jared the question.

He’d expected a yes or a no or possibly a “sometimes”. He hadn’t expected the answer Jared gave him. They were both at home, taking turns answering the door for trick or treaters.

“Are you happy, Jared? In general. Not just this moment.”

Jared had stiffened, gotten up, paced, checked out the window for stragglers, then returned to where he’d been seated in the living room.

“I’ve been seeing someone, Ian.”

That had been Jared’s answer and Ian hadn’t understood at first.

“All those nights you work late, the guys I hook up with downstairs here…well for some time now, it’s just been one guy, the same guy.”

That had been the beginning of the end. Or maybe it was the middle of the end and the end had begun a long time ago, at a point neither of them could identify. Ian hadn’t been angry. He’d been surprised. He’d been a little hurt at the happiness Jared couldn’t quite conceal when he spoke of his new paramour. If he were honest, he’d also been relieved that he and Jared were separating and that it was happening so quickly, almost effortlessly. Mostly he’d been numb.

He’d spent even more time in the office if that were possible, practically living there or at the gym. He was at the office now, clicking absent mindedly through his email, when a movement in the doorway got his attention.

“Good morning, Ian.” The bird of paradise look had disappeared. Curtis was back to his normal brown locks. He was rather conservatively dressed today, a forest green sweater vest pulled over a white shirt and gray trousers. A bow tie with gray, green and purple stripes circled his neck.

Their weekend encounter of the summer seemed a long time ago. “Hello Curtis. Something you need to see me about?”

The man dropped some letters on his desk. “Some notices we’ve sent to your home have been returned. You’ve moved?”

“Guess I forgot to notify Personnel.” He was aware of Curtis’s eyes on him. For some reason, he hadn’t been vocal about his break-up with Jared. Not many people at this firm had met him. It seemed easier to avoid talking about it rather than deal with all the questions.

“Do you like your new place?”

“It’s okay. Small.”

“No more playroom?” The question from Curtis was soft, not mocking, almost gentle.

“No need.” Ian watched Curtis perch on one of the guest chairs. “I’m living on my own.”

Ian braced himself for the sympathy, the pity, that tended to come with the announcement of a long term break-up. Instead, Curtis asked a question.

“When I asked this summer you said you were happy. Are you still? Better or worse?”

This time Ian considered his answer. Was he happy? After so much focus on the question this summer, he hadn’t given it much thought recently. He realized suddenly that he was happy, almost. Happiness was close by, attainable, just in the periphery.

“Better,” he said. He smiled at Curtis and it was the first real smile he’d given in a long time. Maybe since their weekend together. He realized that he had an opportunity now, with Curtis. An opportunity for more than a weekend. An opportunity for happiness, for the type of happiness that came from honest affection.

He no longer wanted to project an image of happiness, of satisfaction. Ian wanted to express it as naturally as Curtis seemed to so happily express himself through his clothes, his manners, the meticulous orderliness with which he managed the office.

Curtis smiled back. The openness in his face, the warmth of his eyes washing through Ian, thawing the last few bits of numbness that had lingered in the aftermath of his break up with Jared.

Curtis stood. “Holiday party’s tomorrow night. Going to come? See how people like the menu we chose?”

Ian had forgotten about the party. A flush of excitement rushed through him at Curtis casually joining the two of them with his “we” in reference to the menu selection. “I hate going alone to social functions. I guess I’ve never truly enjoyed being single.”

“I’ve never minded going places alone. People are interesting and it’s often easier to meet them when you’re alone.” Curtis offered this counterpoint giving Ian a considering look. “I met someone recently. Very charming. Handsome. A surgeon. He’s out, but he’s your type – straight acting and appearing.”

“Sounds like he’s your type too.”

Curtis laughed. “Well, I guess with his stats, he’s anybody’s type. Point is, I could introduce you to him. He could go to the party with you.”

“I’d rather go to the party with you.”

Time stretched as Ian watched a series of reactions flash over Curtis’s face. Surprise. Then something Ian thought might be pleasure, even excitement.

“I’ll be there, of course. I planned it.” Curtis took a conservative approach.

“I know.” Ian stood and came around his desk and leaned against the front. “I know you’ll be busy. I’d still like to go with you.”

“I don’t know. Going together to a work party…” Curtis frowned and happiness slipped a little deeper into the shadows on Ian’s periphery.

“How about you take me out afterwards?” Curtis made the suggestion cautiously, almost shyly. “It will be late. Or early depending on how you look at it. Probably only all night diners open at that time. I’ll need to decompress. But this probably isn’t your thing.”

“It’s a date.” Ian grinned almost laughed at his eagerness. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Curtis.”

Curtis grinned back. “It’s a date.”