Free Yours Truly, Taddy by Avery Aster Page B

blown up like Lex, or plane crashed like y-o-u.” He put a hand up to his face as if suddenly realizing he might be starting class not yet healed.
    “What-the-flip-ever.” I had to keep his spirits up. “You’d be lost without us.”
    “Ditto.” He rolled over on his side.
    “Let me ask you something. Do you ever think about being with a woman?”
    “I tried that already. Remember?” Blake smirked.
    During our sophomore year—or was it our junior year—Blake had slept with a girl before coming out. He said he had to try it just once to make sure he wasn’t straight. He’d owed his family at least that much.
    Blake told us the girl had made him swear he’d never tell a soul. And he hadn’t.
    When I’d agreed to help him come out to his family at his parent’s house on Thanksgiving, he’d said, “Mom, Dad, I had sex with a girl at school. It’s not for me.”
    “Have you tried having sex with a boy?” his mother had asked.
    “No. Not really.”
    With relief his mom had cried out, “Good—”
    “But I want to.” Blake had admitted.
    His father moved his dinner plate to one side and had said encouragingly, “Son, maybe you should try another girl, a redhead like this Tabitha Adelaide.”
    Mr. and Mrs. Morgan had expressed mixed emotions that day. In time they became more accepting of their son’s sexuality.
    “Of course I remember that you tried the opposite sex. I just wondered if you ever thought about trying it again.”
    “No way, no how!”
    I ran my hands over the plush, blue comforter that Blake’s legs were lost under. “Want me to bring you anything?” I got to my feet, looking down at him.
    “You’re alive. I got my VBF back. That’s enough for today, don’t cha think?”
    “More tea?” I asked, as Blake nodded. “Let me call downstairs and have a new pot sent up. I’ll leave the door cracked so you don’t have to get up. Okay?”
    “Sounds good. Now, go bathe, girl. Ya smell! I’m going back to sleep for a bit.” He closed his eyes.
    “I love you, Blake Morgan the third.” I hoped that addressing him by his formal name from time to time would remind him of how important he was. Not just to me, but to his community. Blake’s parents are prominent upstanding people in New England society who love their gay son very much.
    “VBF, I heart you more.” Blake snapped his fingers for me to get to the bathroom. “Go before it gets cold.”
    Exhausted in the bathtub, I pressed my back against the marble and closed my eyes. Images of Leon flashed before me, his sweet face, those big muscles, that thick cock. Slipping my hand into the milky water, I rubbed my sensitive clit.
    Moaning softly, I submerged deeper into the water, releasing tension. I tried my best to relax…
    The bathroom door opened.
    With a turn, I expected to see Blake.
    “Bonjour Tabby,” Fabian said my name incorrectly in a playful voice. Stepping in, he closed the door.
    Covering my breasts with a nearby hanging towel I shouted, “Get outta here, Fabian!”
    Not listening, he came closer. Black, cat-eyes focused on me. “We need to talk.”
    “I’ve got nothing to say to you, your lover, or that photographer. I quit.”
    “Tabby!” The b’s rolled off his tongue.
    I stood, water dripping from between my legs. Fuck this. I tossed my towel on the floor and glanced down to where I’d looked every morning when he’d done my makeup—at the large bulge in his pants.
    Clear as day under his shorts, Fabian’s erection stood nice and firm. It’d be so easy to reach out and feel his length. God, I wanted to.
    “Let me dry you.” He rolled up his sleeves, revealing his strong forearms.
    “No,” I said, but I didn’t mean it.  
    “Oui.” He scooped up the towel.
    Turning my back, I allowed him to towel-off my shoulders. Okay, I’ll be honest, my nipples pebbled. Fabian Henry turned me on. He was exotic. But I wasn’t going to let him know that.
    “This week…I’ve washed your hair.” He ran