With apologies to Mr. Perignon

Saturday, June 11, 2005, 12:00am
Steve's house (continued)

"Can you meet me in my house in half an hour?"

"Sure."

"Make sure no one's in the driveway."

I'm glad she called when she did; when I'm whacking off, it's an extremely quick process, and in about 4-5 minutes, she would have been too late. Sure, I can usually come twice in a row, but the first time I fuck a girl, I like to make a big, um, splash. I like to blow a huge load all over a chick's face and have her say something like, "My God! Where do you KEEP all that stuff?" I don't know about the rest of you guys, but my second load is never as big as the first.

Jerking off is all business for me; I ain't looking to romance myself, after all. I know just where to grab, how fast to rub, when to speed up, when to slow down, and when to stop. I'm GOOD at it! It's a shame that masturbation is not an Olympic event, because if it were, I'd have more hardware than Bob Vila.

Now that I know how fuck-ready Tim appears to be, it's time to put away my gun. I gingerly raise my boxers and slowly zip my fly; my cock remains at full attention, stretching my underwear and poking out under my jeans. Forget pitching a tent: I've got a teepee big enough to fit the entire Sioux Nation.

I guess it might seem flattering for a guy to arrive at a girl's house 27 seconds after she calls him for sex. Me, I always take my time. My goal is to make it look like I do this kind of shit every day. I don't run to the car; I walk. I stop at stop signs. And I make sure I'm not out of breath when she answers the door. It matters.

I wouldn't be a very gracious guest, would I, if I didn't bring something. I look briefly at my wine rack, but nothing is cold, and nothing strikes my fancy anyway. I'm not a huge wine fan to begin with, and besides, I've always thought champagne went much better with sex.

There are always two bottles of Moet White Star in my fridge. Guys, you ought to do the same; You never know when you'll need one, and you'll look like a true stud when you have one chilled and ready at a second's notice. I grab a bottle and head out the door.

My mind swirls with memories of what it felt like to have Tim's silky smooth lips against mine. I think of her full-body hugs, with so much genital-to-genital contact that it feels like fucking with clothes on. And yeah, I think about Dom. And Stephanie.

It's easy to feel like I'm betraying a friend, but Tim made her choice, and her choice wasn't Dom. Tim is pretty much the female version of Dom and me, and in a month it'll probably be some other guy, so I might as well get with her while I can. Besides, Dom doesn't look at her as much more than a life support system for a pussy.

I do feel a twinge of sadness, though, as I realize that this is really It for Steph and me. Tonight I am going to have sex with someone else, and what Steph and I had will be truly Over. Just like that, I'll be back to my old ways. I know that I'm never going to have love or companionship with Tim, and I may not have it again for a while.

But what else am I supposed to do? Chase after Steph? Stalk her? She's made up her mind, and I'd better go on living my life, because she's gone on living hers.

Tim lives in an attractive mint green townhouse on a busy street. She's even got a driveway and a one-car garage. I walk slowly up her cobblestone steps and ring the bell.

She answers the door, wearing exactly what she had on before. "Hey, handsome!" she gushes, as if surprised to see me. "You wanta beer? OH! What's that?" she asks, looking at the bottle in my hand.

"I always come prepared."

"Let me see. Ooooo! How did you know I love Moet?!"

"I'm a good guesser."

"Can we open it?"

"No, I thought we'd just read the label together!"

"HA HA," she sneers, giving me a hand towel.

She places two water glasses on the kitchen table. "Sorry, no champagne glasses."

"No problem."

"So I told Dom what you had to say about seeing the workers' comp policy. And he proceeded to talk to me about insurance for an hour and a half!"

"No kidding?"

"I almost went into a coma!"

"That bad, huh?"

"And YOU'RE not very good at taking a hint."

"What do you mean?"

"I kept waiting for you to leave, so I could..."

"So you could call me?"

"Right. I kept talking to Dom so you'd leave, so I could leave!"

"Well, I did leave, it just took a while," I say. I twist the cork; it POPS loudly, releasing a tiny cloud of champagne vapor. I fill the glasses.

Moet goes down extremely smooth. It does have a hint of a bite to it, though, which reminds you that drinking enough of it will get you smashed.

"So what are we drinking to?" she says.

TakTakTakTakTak!

She looks to the front door, then to me, her brow furrowed inquisitively. I shrug. It's the knock of someone angry, or in a big hurry.

She leans past me and looks through the kitchen window at her front porch. "Oh shit! It's Dom!" she whispers.

"Really?"

"Do you think you should... hide or something?"

"Tim. My car's in the driveway."

"Oh yeah."

"Just let him in. By now he knows what's going on anyway."

"Yeah, that's true."

I hear her turn the doorknob and pull the door open. It squeaks faintly. It needs some oil, I think.

I hear Dom's voice, smooth and low-key, just like always: "Here's your ID that I was holding."

"Oh yeah, I totally forgot. Thanks, Dom," she says, with a nervous chuckle.

"Have a good night."

I peek out the window, and he's walking back to his car. Is that IT?

I guess Dom can't be surprised. Tim isn't his girlfriend, so he can't be shocked that she's with someone else. But he must feel betrayed that it was me, and that she and I are together on a night when HE was supposed to be with her. But I'll deal with that later.

She strides slowly back to the kitchen, her license between her thumb and forefinger. She stares at me, open-mouthed.

We burst out laughing. "OH my God! Can you believe what just happened?" she says.

"Nope."

"He just acted totally normal! Like everything was fine!"

"That's Dom."

"I guess he knows I'm not sick now."

"Good thing he's not the monogamous type."

She hands me my glass. "So?"

"To non-monogamy."

"Amen!"