hate gay men. Brad is such a slob. He'd never do that.”
“Hello, pot, meet kettle.” I smiled to myself. She was getting irritated; through the phone I could hear her tapping a pen on her notepad. “You're not exactly Martha Stewart, dear.”
“I work all day,” she said. “He's always home.”
“I'm not one to defend Bran Boy, but he works at home.” I tossed four Advil into my mouth and downed them with a mouthful of water.
“Please,” she said, still tapping away. “He's a book-jacket editor. He gets to lie around and read all day. He can't take thirty minutes and straighten the place up?”
“I suppose so.” I wasn't really interested in pursuing Brad any further. Just as I was beginning to get irritated from her tapping, it suddenly stopped.
“How was the date? I want all the dirt.”
“It was great.” I took another large gulp of water. “He was really sweet. Despite the fact that someone told him I'm a high-maintenance pain in the ass.”
“News flash…like I really pulled a skeleton out the closet with that one. Besides, I'm pretty sure he got a little gleam in his eye when I told him that. I think he likes a challenge.”
“Well, thank you, but I'm a person, not an extreme sport. You make me sound like bungee jumping.”
“Quit bitching and tell me what happened. I swear, stop acting like a little old lady and get to the good stuff. Is he a good kisser?”
I gave her the play-by-play from the cigarette fiasco to the hot man-on-man action in the front seat of his car. I laughed a little when she gasped as I mentioned the Republican thing.
I ran my fingers over my lips and grinned. “But he sure knew how to use those lips. I swear, I wanted to drag him upstairs to see what else he could do.”
“You should have,” she said. “I can't believe you didn't probe any further than that. You aren't exactly Julie Andrews, you know. Just think. If you had invited him up and let him wrap those full lips of his around Little Julian, you'd be singing 'My Prick Is Alive With the Sound of Grunting.'”
“Okay, Danny.” I rolled my eyes as I laughed. “Jesus, a boy has to have some principles.”
“Sure,” Gabby said, “and what are you left with the next morning with your precious principles? A case of blue balls and a hangover. If you wanted to invite him up for sex, you should have. You act like sex is something naughty and shameful. It isn't healthy to deny your desires.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ruth. Would it make you feel better to know that I masturbated before passing out?”
“I always say, 'Why do something yourself if you can get someone else to do it for you?' I'm surprised you don't think that choking the chunky monkey makes you cheap. Were you thinking about Andy when you were stroking yourself to sleep?”
“Yeah,” I said. “What's your point, Nosy Nora?”
“I don't see a whole lot of difference between sleeping with someone and imagining yourself sleeping with someone while you beat off. Either way you start out with the same desire and end up with cum all over your stomach. The only difference is that, your way, you ended up doing all the work yourself.”
I began to laugh, cursing her under my breath as my head began to throb more. “Well, thanks for the rundown of fornication dos and don'ts, or in your case, fornication dos. Besides, my way was quicker. If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to sleep.”
“Fine, prissy,” she said, sounding a little huffy. “Quicker. I pity the man who ends up with your…repression!”
I chuckled again. “Not so loud, please.”
“By the way, I'm throwing a dinner party Wednesday night. You can bring Andy and Danny. The man you're already in love with and the man you'll make yourself fall in love with. Then I'll be able to torture you all night by saying inappropriate things.”
“Ignoring you,” I said.
“If we don't make it out tonight, I'll see you at lunch on Monday.”
“Good night.”
“Good
“Hello, pot, meet kettle.” I smiled to myself. She was getting irritated; through the phone I could hear her tapping a pen on her notepad. “You're not exactly Martha Stewart, dear.”
“I work all day,” she said. “He's always home.”
“I'm not one to defend Bran Boy, but he works at home.” I tossed four Advil into my mouth and downed them with a mouthful of water.
“Please,” she said, still tapping away. “He's a book-jacket editor. He gets to lie around and read all day. He can't take thirty minutes and straighten the place up?”
“I suppose so.” I wasn't really interested in pursuing Brad any further. Just as I was beginning to get irritated from her tapping, it suddenly stopped.
“How was the date? I want all the dirt.”
“It was great.” I took another large gulp of water. “He was really sweet. Despite the fact that someone told him I'm a high-maintenance pain in the ass.”
“News flash…like I really pulled a skeleton out the closet with that one. Besides, I'm pretty sure he got a little gleam in his eye when I told him that. I think he likes a challenge.”
“Well, thank you, but I'm a person, not an extreme sport. You make me sound like bungee jumping.”
“Quit bitching and tell me what happened. I swear, stop acting like a little old lady and get to the good stuff. Is he a good kisser?”
I gave her the play-by-play from the cigarette fiasco to the hot man-on-man action in the front seat of his car. I laughed a little when she gasped as I mentioned the Republican thing.
I ran my fingers over my lips and grinned. “But he sure knew how to use those lips. I swear, I wanted to drag him upstairs to see what else he could do.”
“You should have,” she said. “I can't believe you didn't probe any further than that. You aren't exactly Julie Andrews, you know. Just think. If you had invited him up and let him wrap those full lips of his around Little Julian, you'd be singing 'My Prick Is Alive With the Sound of Grunting.'”
“Okay, Danny.” I rolled my eyes as I laughed. “Jesus, a boy has to have some principles.”
“Sure,” Gabby said, “and what are you left with the next morning with your precious principles? A case of blue balls and a hangover. If you wanted to invite him up for sex, you should have. You act like sex is something naughty and shameful. It isn't healthy to deny your desires.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ruth. Would it make you feel better to know that I masturbated before passing out?”
“I always say, 'Why do something yourself if you can get someone else to do it for you?' I'm surprised you don't think that choking the chunky monkey makes you cheap. Were you thinking about Andy when you were stroking yourself to sleep?”
“Yeah,” I said. “What's your point, Nosy Nora?”
“I don't see a whole lot of difference between sleeping with someone and imagining yourself sleeping with someone while you beat off. Either way you start out with the same desire and end up with cum all over your stomach. The only difference is that, your way, you ended up doing all the work yourself.”
I began to laugh, cursing her under my breath as my head began to throb more. “Well, thanks for the rundown of fornication dos and don'ts, or in your case, fornication dos. Besides, my way was quicker. If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to sleep.”
“Fine, prissy,” she said, sounding a little huffy. “Quicker. I pity the man who ends up with your…repression!”
I chuckled again. “Not so loud, please.”
“By the way, I'm throwing a dinner party Wednesday night. You can bring Andy and Danny. The man you're already in love with and the man you'll make yourself fall in love with. Then I'll be able to torture you all night by saying inappropriate things.”
“Ignoring you,” I said.
“If we don't make it out tonight, I'll see you at lunch on Monday.”
“Good night.”
“Good
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