Robert Glazer
That night I’m eating dinner with most of the family, praying Eliot will show up at some time or another. Honestly, the more I’m around him, the more addicted I get.
But he never shows. He never comes.
Afterward I take care of some business in my room. I made fifteen thousand dollars today in a surprise move on the secondary market – cool. Honestly, the money isn’t too fun if nobody is next to me, having fun with it. It gets old. I can only buy so many jackets and go on so many trips before it all starts to feel same-ish. And I’m starting to get more and more impatient for that person.
I grab some Pinot Grigio, then fuss with the TV and finally figure out how to access OnDemand. I click through some free movies and then smile to myself – it’s Clueless, that classic of the ‘90s that actually turned out to be a chronicle of a teenaged girl falling in love with her former stepbrother. And everyone loved it! This movie has gone down in history as the Heathers or the Mean Girls of its decade. And it was about something very similar to what I’m experiencing right now!
I glance out of my window. Eliot doesn’t know this, but my third-floor bedroom is a converted attic space, and my dormer window looks down, at a diagonal angle, directly into his bedroom. Mostly it’s just been Eliot and David sweeping in to change clothes in the bathroom and then leave again, but tonight the light is off and the room seems empty. Where are they?
I watch Cher and Dion speed through the streets of Beverly Hills. Halfway through, a light catches my eye. I press mute and look down – and there he is. Eliot, staring at himself in the mirror. And he’s naked.
I watch as he runs his hand from his ab muscles down to his dick, which is nice even when it’s soft. He looks contemplative and a little sad. His hair is streaked blonde from the sun, and there’s a sharp tine line at his hips where deep gold becomes pale silver. His body is perfect from this angle, and when he turns a little, I can see the roundness of his ass. No wonder David is holding onto him for dear life. I would, too.
He grips himself and starts to jack off. That’s when I look away.
I shouldn’t be looking, right? But then again, something about what he’s doing is kind of…performative. He obviously wants to be watched, doesn’t he? Why is he doing it in this manner?
Sometimes Eliot looks so lonely. Sometimes when David is talking to him, he looks like he’s a million miles away. Today when we kissed, I really did feel something – I feel it every time we touch, actually. As much as it scares me, I really don’t think this is some crazy “vacation fling” type of thing. It feels…deeper. Realer. I know that makes no sense, but it does.
Finally I look back. He’s holding his phone like he’s taking a picture, and I watch as he presses the screen and then starts typing. Two seconds later, my phone pings.
I grab it. He’s added me as a friend on Snapchat, a photo-sharing app I downloaded a few months ago and then quickly forgot about. My face burning and my heart pounding, I accept his request and then watch as a photo icon pops up. My God – he’s messaging me, right now.
I hold my breath and open the photo. It’s him, thirty seconds ago, holding his dick in the mirror. My whole body jumps as I type a response.
You are perfect, I say. Beyond perfect. Today was amazing.
I look down into his window as he smiles and responds. What are you going to do about it, then?
I feel my face go red. Maybe show you my dick again, perhaps? A second time wouldn’t hurt.
He sends me a smiling emoji, and then I turn and watch in real time as he takes a video of himself stroking his cock. The video shows up a few seconds later, and the result is a sensory overload. I know I’m about to march down there right now and fuck him if we don’t get a handle on this, so I type something daring:
Where’s David? Is your room empty?
But that’s when I know I’ve gone too far. I watch as he frowns and then turns toward the bathroom and disappears. Fuck. He didn’t even respond. Why do I have to ruin everything?
I sigh and turn back to the movie, my dick still throbbing. I need to calm down. I haven’t been this consistently horny since college – and even then, I was too closeted and repressed to do much about it.
“I love Josh!” Alicia Silverstone finally says, as fountains erupt and choirs sing. Why is this so accepted, though? They were step-siblings for a time. What if Eliot and I were treated like this, potentially? What if the world accepts us? I know it’s a long shot, but what if Mary Kate could one day learn to deal with it?
And I am crazy for even trying to figure out a future with someone I just met?
I’m too emotional to handle myself – frankly I’m overwhelmed. Thinking of his body in that window, I grab some lube and take my cock into my hand. I know it’s big, I knew that since I took my first group shower in high school and the other guys stared at me with a sudden look of shock and respect. And sometimes I get turned on by my own penis, as weird as that sounds. I rub and down, up and down, doing everything to myself that Eliot won’t do to me. And when I come, I imagine I am doing it inside Eliot’s body…
And then an idea comes to me. I take a photo of my dick, still fully erect, and covered in my semen – and then I send it to Eliot and promptly plug in my phone and go to sleep.
If he won’t make an actual move yet, he’ll just have to be blue-balled until he gets brave enough to do it in real life.