Campus Call Boy, page 8
I’m cracking up. “Got you back.”
“Dude, you’re kinda twisted.” He laughs. “I mean, how’s this supposed to work when we both got a sick sense of humor?”
I curl my hands around the fabric of his mascot outfit and pull him into me, smothering his mouth with mine. Get his lips open to dive my tongue inside and see if he remembers how we kissed at the top of the clock tower. He sure does. When I break it off, his breaths rush against my face.
“How’s that work?” I ask him.
Carlos holds my face, and I brush my lips against his hand. There’s a little voice in my head telling me I’m playing with fire. Because our attraction isn’t just some casual thing. I’m falling harder for Carlos than I’ve ever fallen for any guy, and we’ve got a heavy conversation ahead of us. I ought to be cooling things down rather than revving them up.
“You’re full of surprises, Noah,” Carlos says.
“Just trying to keep up, Carlos.”
He flashes a grin. “Wanna see my room?”
Wow. He’s going there?
He brushes my upper arm with his hand. “Just want to show it to you. We don’t have to do nothin’.”
Yeah, right.
I jiggle my beer bottle. “Can we bring these? Or is it against the rules?”
“I won’t tell nobody if you don’t tell nobody.” He takes another guzzle, and his bottle is almost spent. He polishes it off and goes to the fridge. “I’ll even get us fresh ones. See how good I am to you?” But he hunts through the fridge and only comes up with a single bottle.
“It’s all right. We’ll share. I’m driving anyway.”
“That’s right,” Carlos says. “Don’t want to be running over any homeless people on the way home.”
He pulls me by the hand to the stairwell up to the second floor.
♂ ♂
WE’RE MAKING OUT and tugging off each other’s clothes pretty much as soon as the door closes shut behind us. Self-restraint just isn’t my strong suit. We’re lucky Carlos managed to find a solid surface for the beer bottle he was holding. He’s halfway out of his bunny suit with the back and sleeves draped from his waist. He helped me pull my shirt over my head, taking my horns along with it down to the floor. Now we’re crushed together, chest to chest, big-time sucking face, while he leads me slowly toward his shadowy bed in a back-stepping stumble.
The only light in the room is a gossamer glow from the night sky coming through his window. His dorm room smells like unwashed clothes drenched with the scent of Carlos, earthy and masculine and fragrant from his deodorant. He guides me to sit on his spring mattress bed so we can shuck our shoes and really get down to business. I kick off my sneakers while he’s pulling off his combat boots, and then he grabs my mouth with his again, scouring his hand through my damp hair. I do the same to his sweat-drenched, curly mop. He’s so damn sexy, I just want to swap spit with him for days.
We lie down on the bed side by side, and he pops open my belt to dig his hand down the front of my cargo pants. That gives me a rush, and I scoop into his bunny suit and find his swampy boner inside his briefs. We grope each other and kiss, nip lips, breathe hot against each other’s face. He pries his hand into the back of my pants, grabbing at my buns.
I want his sultry cock stabbing open my fuckhole. I could easily strip down, give him that sign, and be facedown on his bed, moaning sweet prayers while he pounds my ass. But some preternatural better sense takes hold of me. I want to do this right with Carlos. Intercourse would be like going from ten to seventy miles an hour when we’re still getting to know each other. It might sound like a finer distinction when I’m on his bed with his dick in my hand, but it means something to me. Like I was talking about: compartments. My compartment for Carlos is becoming shiny and delicate and lined with velvet, and going all the way doesn’t belong in there just yet.
The only thing I can think of to stop both of us from going there is tugging down his pants and making him come with my mouth. I help him wriggle his furry suit down his legs and off his feet and strip his underwear off him along the way. I climb between his legs and chow down on his beautiful, fat erection. MMMM. Sucking his cock is even more delicious than I had pictured. He’s really warm and a little sweaty from wearing that suit. I slide my hand up his torso which is also moist with perspiration. Carlos whimpers and groans while I wring at him to tap his load.
He’s not a middle-aged guy. He’s got a barely post-adolescent penis, so it’s not long before he’s tensing up his body and giving it up. I spit him out because I want to see what he looks like coming. I hold him in my hand, watch him choke out luscious spurts of spew while he gasps and shudders against the bed. When he quiets, I lick some of his spunk from his cockhead and palm myself with the stuff he shot on my hand. Makes me feel good wearing him.
Carlos pulls me up to the head of the bed, and we sit together sleigh-style with his arms draped around me.
He kisses my neck. “Thank you, baby.”
I clasp his arm tight to my chest, reach down to kiss him there. I love being tucked together with him like this, so warm and cozy.
I feel him chuckle a little. “This mean we’re boyfriends?”
I take his hand in mine, feel all the contours of his fingers, knuckles and palm. “Are you asking?”
He squeezes tight around my sides. “I want this all the time.” He dives his hand between my legs. “And this.”
My face pinches up with a mischievous impulse. “So what’s that? You just want my body.”
He nuzzles against my neck while he holds my cock. “Don’t be cruel, baby. Think I’m falling in love with you. You be my boyfriend for real?”
I grin. “Yeah. I can do that.” I turn my head to find his mouth, and we seal it with a kiss.
Meanwhile, his hand is doing interesting things between my legs. He brushes his sweaty face against mine. “Wanna make you come,” he says. “Can I do it, baby?”
No problem there. I pull down my pants and underwear so he can get to me easier.
Carlos digs between his legs to get some of his jizz on his hand and comes back, polishing my boner with his slippery stuff. I like that a lot. Besides making his hand a slippery glove, it feels like his testosterone is seeping into my pores, giving me a wicked rush. I know I’m going to pop real soon.
He drives his hand between my legs, leaning over my shoulder to watch with his other arm strapped across my chest. I’m captive, getting short of breaths, feeling like I might cry out in agony. He’s getting me so burning hot and tight between the legs. I squeeze up my face, and it busts out of me, fucking fireworks, like a missile screaming out of my cock. I splatter my chest and stomach and all over Carlos’s hand.
Carlos caresses my wet torso. He croons in my ear. “So beautiful, baby. Told ya, we’re making memories.”
Chapter Ten
IT FELT SO right at the time, but when I wake up on Monday, I’m seriously freaking out over what I’ve done. I have to tell Carlos about my sex work. I should have done that before saying I’d be his boyfriend, before messing around with him in his room. The first thing I do before packing up for the gym and my Monday classes is message my client Doug to say I’ve got to cancel on him that night. I add I’m canceling permanently. I take a deep breath and click send.
I consider taking down my website completely, but I can’t go there yet. First, I ought to see how the conversation with Carlos goes, right?
If he never wants to see me again, it will hurt like hell, but at least I’ll know our relationship isn’t meant to be. It’ll be a tough lesson learned. I can’t be having a boyfriend while I’m escorting, and I’ll get through the next year thinking about a future that won’t be so complicated.
It’s possible he’ll understand. Carlos is a broad-minded guy. He might be able to accept that having sex for money is totally different from having sex when you’re in love. It’s got nothing to do with the way I feel about him.
That possibility has me sweating more. Carlos might be cool with me escorting in the past but not at all cool with me continuing to do it. I’ve got four grand coming to me every week for a Saturday night with Philip. If I drop that, I’ll go back to being in debt and relying on loans for graduate school. Am I willing to do that to be with Carlos?
I mean, I think I love him, but we’re still getting to know each other. A relationship is tough. I saw a lot of them come and go in high school, which maybe doesn’t count, but from what I’ve heard and seen, college isn’t that different. We’re both graduating next year, starting our lives as adults, and who knows if we’ll end up in the same city? Will we even make the relationship work through the summer when he leaves campus? I shouldn’t be thinking that far ahead, I suppose, but I have to. This thing with Carlos could melt down two months down the line, and I’ll have fucked things up with my high-paying clients. Getting to where I am was hard work. I’ll be back to square one.
I go through the day trying to shake free of those worries. There’s no point stressing myself out until I have that conversation with Carlos, and I don’t have to do it today. I’m not in the right head space. Maybe tomorrow. Meanwhile, my conscience is clear since I’m not cheating on him by keeping my commitment to my client.
He texts me mid-morning, says he misses me and he had a great time last night. I write back I feel the same, and then he asks what I’m doing after classes.
Part of me would love to see him, but I’m not ready to give it to him straight and I can’t be with him while this dilemma is weighing on my shoulders. I tell him I’m meeting up with my group for a project in Oral Communications, which is true. He says he’s working at the computer lab from six to ten and wants to know if I’ll come over to his co-op after that. I answer I’d really love to, but I’ve got to put some work in on my big final paper in Organizational Behavior. That’s basically true as well since I barely scratched the surface on it over the weekend since I slept over at Philip’s.
He shoots me back a big sad face. I promise him I’m not ghosting him. It hurts imagining him feeling that way. We make plans to meet up for lunch on Tuesday when we both have a break between classes.
After classes and my group meeting, I work on my paper at home that night. Carlos texts me while he’s working at the computer lab, and later we go to bed together sending back and forth flirty messages. I miss him bad, and it takes all my willpower not to drive over to his place to see him.
♂ ♂
ON TUESDAY, WE meet up for lunch at the dining hall in the center of campus for the hour we have between classes. The place is packed. We’re not the only people with the same idea, which is why I avoid that particular dining hall like the plague.
I swim through students zigzagging around with trays and finally spot Carlos and his friends at a six-person booth in the northeast corner where he said they’d be.
Carlos sees me and stands to give me a hug and a smooch on the lips. We sit down with his pals Amanda and Jae and two punk kids I recognize from the party. Carlos introduces them as Garrett and Louis. Everyone has been through the food line except Carlos, so we go together. He’s such a sweet guy, waiting for me so we can make the most of our short time.
He teases me about the quantity of food I pile on my tray. Yeah, I look like a pig, but I burn off a lot of calories working out, and I pretty much stick with healthy stuff like salad, turkey burgers, and fruit. My one weakness is cookies. I grab two peanut butter cookies and a glass of milk. Carlos goes for a burger and fries, and we travel back to the table to chow down.
It’s not long before his friends start grilling me.
“So, Noah, did Carlos recruit you yet for the Collective?” Garrett asks me with a smirk.
“Oh. Not yet. I’m kind of apolitical.”
“A business major, right?”
He’s got the same skeptical tone Carlos had when we first met, though with a lot more disdain.
“Yep.” I grab some salad on my fork, hoping the table will move on to another topic.
Carlos steps in to defend me. “Noah’s interested in non-profit management. He’s got this killer idea for helping inner city kids break out of poverty.”
He totally means well, but I wish he hadn’t mentioned it. Those two guys across the table from us don’t look like they’ll be impressed.
“Oh yeah?” Garrett says. “What’s your idea?”
Great. Here we go. “You heard of social entrepreneurship?”
He nods.
“It’s basically that. Teaching kids to establish businesses that will benefit their communities.”
Louis snorts. “Spreading capitalism to the oppressed.” He fixes on me. “You know the myth of upward mobility is just a tool for the corporate class to keep poor people complacent.”
I’m familiar with that argument. It came up in Economics 101. “Well, it worked for me. I grew up on the north side of Philly. My dad’s been in and out of work as a factory worker all my life. My mom works as a dispatcher at a taxi company. I’m the first person in my family to go to college.”
“The exception doesn’t prove the rule,” Louis says. “Most kids growing up in poverty remain in poverty. And if you’re black, it’s like one in three who end up in prison.”
Funny, the guy is as white as me, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he came from a lot wealthier family. Most students at my university have. And the ones most strident about this anti-capitalism stuff have usually benefited from it big time. I know all about the obstacles to getting out of poverty. The way I figure, capitalism has its flaws, but it still provides the best opportunity for poor people to better themselves.
I’m not going to go there. I can tell Louis isn’t looking for a debate. He just wants to show off he knows more than me.
“How can you be apolitical?” Garrett throws at me. “Like, what does that even mean?”
“Guys, you wanna give my boyfriend a break?” Carlos tells the two. “You just met him like two seconds ago.”
“It’s all right.” I look at Garrett. “It means I don’t get involved in politics ‘cause it’s always going to offend someone. I just try to live my life and avoid the drama.”
Louis gives me a dubious grin. “Dude, you like dick, right? There’s a whole lot of people offended by that. People who think they shouldn’t have to serve you at a restaurant. That you shouldn’t be able to get married.”
“Yeah, and they’re idiots.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Garrett says. “It makes you angry, right? Makes you want to do something about it.”
I chew down another forkful of salad. “I dunno. Seems to me things like protests and demonstrations don’t accomplish much. I mean, who changes their mind about those issues just from seeing a bunch of angry people taking to the streets?”
Now everyone at the table is looking at me like I’m a moron. Even Carlos is pointing his eyes in the other direction.
“Taking to the streets is the only thing that’s accomplished anything,” Louis says. “You heard of Stonewall? ACT-UP? Martin Luther King and the black civil rights movement?”
Garrett joins in. “You know how many rights you wouldn’t have if it weren’t for people risking their lives so you can choose to ‘avoid the drama?’”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” I fumble to explain, and the problem is I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say. My face is burning up. “I’m just not...confrontational.”
Carlos gives my shoulder a rub. “Not everybody is comfortable putting themselves out there. They’ve got a right to decide for themselves.”
I appreciate his support. I appreciate he’s even defending me considering the hole I dug myself into with his friends.
“Not everybody has the luxury to be complacent,” Louis says with some bite. “You go ahead and sit on the sidelines while other people do the work protecting your right to live.”
“Christ, Louis,” Amanda pipes in. “You’re so dogmatic.” She gazes at me kindly. “Don’t let him get under your skin. He can’t make it down the block without starting a fight with somebody who’s not waving a sign.”
“It’s no big deal.” I catch Louis’s gaze. “I think it’s cool you’re so passionate. I’m sure there’s plenty of things I could be more woke about. Who knows? You might see me at one of your rallies by the end of the semester.”
That defuses the dude. Or at least puts him off balance. I don’t care about declaring victory in this discussion, so why not let him have it?
“You sure picked an interesting guy to date,” Garrett says. “Couldn’t have picked someone more political.”
I smile at Carlos, grab his knee under the table. “I’ve got no complaints.”
Amanda changes the subject to some anthropology exam they all took, and soon after it’s time for them to bolt to their classes. I linger behind with Carlos, and we slow-walk out to the quad holding hands. Glancing at the big clock on the front façade of the dining hall, I see I’m going to be late for my one o’clock class. It worries me a little, but I can tell Carlos is waiting for the moment to say something about me meeting his friends.
He stops along the path and finally spills. “I had no idea Louis and Garrett would act like that. I should’ve said more. They were totally out of line.”
It’s so frickin’ cute how pissed off and embarrassed he looks. “I can handle it. I’m a big boy. ‘Sides, I get it. They’re probably not too crazy about me stealing you away.”
“They can fuck off if they’re gonna be like that with you.”
I raise a hand to calm him. “Really, Carlos, it’s no big deal. I gotta meet your friends, don’t I? And I like Amanda…and Jae, though they don’t talk too much.”
“Yeah, Jae’s real cool, once you get to know them.”
“I even liked Louis and Garrett. I get along with just about everybody.”
Carlos has a funny look on his face. Like he’s got something serious on his mind.
“I probably should’ve told you…” He shifts his weight, looks like he’s bracing for something. “Louis and I, we used to fool around sometimes. But I broke things off. Hasn’t happened since last semester.”
