“Oh my god, Henri, you are too good at this.”
The pace of your hand quickened. You squirted some body wash onto your palm to make it slicker while splashing a bit in the tub in your desperation to climax. I was so tempted to slip into one of your roommates’ bodies right then and finish you myself, but I wouldn’t spoil the harmony of your living situation for that fleeting pleasure.
“You are so lovely, my young man. And after we’ve made love, I’ll lick the sweat and semen from your skin like a cat lapping at a saucer of milk. I will worship you, Orlando, from your beautiful brown curls to that necrotic toenail that still needs medical attention.”
You let out a gut-wrenching groan, spasmed a few times, and ejaculated onto your slick, wet chest. I wanted to smell it, taste it, rub it on my body like a sticky balm.
“Beautiful,” I said as a contented smile spread across your face.
Your breath was still ragged as your muscles slowly relaxed. The warm water claimed your pearly seed, and I felt bitter at that too.
I was a jealous lover.
13
Henri
Iwas far too old to get nervous about courting rituals. And yet, there I was adjusting my shirt, running my hands through my hair, and checking my reflection in a car window to make sure there was nothing stuck in my teeth.
I’d taken a lot of care in finding a suitable host—not too young, not too old—a man I thought you would find attractive and someone who had even expressed interest in you in the past. You’d told me ahead of time where you and your friends would be celebrating your birthday. Something called the X-Zone. I’d never been to this establishment and worried about what I should expect. I hoped my host was properly dressed for the day’s festivities and that I’d be able to blend in with you and your contemporaries. It had been decades since I’d initiated any kind of amorous encounter with a human, and those episodes were short-lived, for the express purpose of relieving spiritual angst.
I might not understand the colloquialisms between you and your friends. Worse yet, I might embarrass you.
I stood outside the large complex of buildings while the midday sun beat down on my face, causing me to perspire in multiple locations. I stared at the double glass doors that promised exciting thrills at an affordable cost. I hadn’t visited you in a body in more than six months, and there were sure to be expectations.
I took a deep breath and circulated oxygen through my borrowed lungs. I ran a hand through my tousled hair again and squeezed one bicep as if proving to myself that I was in control of this vessel. I suspected you favored athletic men, ones with the potential to physically dominate you, so I chose a host who had some strength and a bit of manly scruff on his face. I’d always preferred a beard myself. If we kissed, and I hoped we might, I wanted you to find my facial hair appealing and not repulsive.
I pulled out my host’s wallet to see how much cash was in it. Not impressive. Perhaps I should have chosen a man of more means or withdrawn some coin from my account. I’d forgotten about the human custom of presenting gifts to the birthday subject, an oversight on my part. All I really had to offer was my company.
Well, enough dithering. As you were so fond of saying, it was time for me to man up or shut up.
I strolled through the glass doors and entered a large warehouse-like structure that appeared as big as an indoor mall. My senses were overwhelmed by the noise and sheer number of bodies traipsing here and there. Among the amusements advertised were go-karts, arcade games, trampolines, and bungee jumping, which was absolutely out of the question as far as I was concerned. The arena smelled of popcorn and human secretions. I fretted I might not find you, then I glimpsed Bruno near the go-karts with a helmet cradled under his arm.
And there you were beside him, a helmet already on your head, negotiating something with the attendant. Your arms moved with a grace that had been ingrained in you from a young age. Your blue jeans hugged your firm rear end, and your black t-shirt showed off your muscular arms and shoulders. My tissues began to swell with blood, my erection listing in my trousers, so I tried to think of more pedestrian topics rather than visualize you naked. Even without my influence, this body was attracted to you.
I stood a few feet away and pretended to inspect the line of recreational vehicles while eavesdropping on your conversation. You were asking if the laps were timed. Bets were being placed as to who would be the fastest, with Tyrell organizing the gambling aspect. He looked fitter than when I’d last seen him. I stole another glance in your direction. Your helmeted head slowly pivoted toward me and our eyes locked. You assessed me, head to foot, then reached up and removed the helmet from your head. Your curls crowned your temple like a laurel wreath.
“Don’t I know you?” You studied me, then took a step closer and searched for recognition in my eyes. “You work at the Coffee Corner at MCB.”
I nodded. My vessel had flirted with you a few times and gave you the employee discount whether or not you knew it.
You turned all the way toward me so that we faced each other. I held my breath as you placed one hand on my shoulder and scrutinized me closer. “Henri?”
I exhaled as relief washed over me. Having you recognize my spirit encouraged me greatly.
“Happy Birthday, Orlando.”
I drew you into an embrace and nuzzled my nose in your hair, something I’d been longing to do again. The scent of your scalp had a way of grounding me in the temporal plane. I was glad this vessel was a couple of inches taller, because I could wrap you fully in my arms. The rub of your skin sent blood rushing to my genitals again. My salivary glands activated, and even though it was an illusion, my teeth felt sharper as well. I swallowed hard and tried to calm my thudding heart.
“I’m so glad you came.” You stepped back to wrap an arm around my shoulders and present me to your friends. “Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Henri.”
Bruno’s eyes lit up and he pulled me into a long embrace. “Finally!” he exclaimed.
Tyrell offered his hand, which I pumped emphatically to show him I harbored no lingering ill will. One of the other dancers from the studio asked me if I worked at the Coffee Corner, and when I said yes, said he thought my name was Bobby. I shrugged it off and you offered no further explanation. Tyrell and Bruno were the only ones who knew of my peculiarities, and I’d requested we keep it that way.
“You’re here just in time,” you said, beaming. “Have you ever driven a go-kart before?”
I shook my head. I’d rarely had the need or desire to pilot an automobile, and in fact, I hadn’t driven one in years, but I didn’t share that bit of information with your companions.
