Milked

Loren | nothing more than a thing.

At my apartment, I was trying to study for my upcoming microbiology test, when I heard a knock on the door. Wary, I answered it, finding Shane at the door, as expected. "You've been ignoring my texts," he said.

"Sorry."

"Mind if I come in?"

Not answering, I moved to let him in.

"Look, I don't know why you left the way you did the other night," he said, now in the center of my living room, turning around to face me.

"Maybe it had something to do with you telling me to end my career and move in with you."

"That's not fair. You're putting words in my mouth. You were complaining about your job, and all I said was that if it's making you unhappy, you should quit. Then you brought up your money issues, and I told you you could live with me while you found a job. That's it. You're at my house all the time anyway, and it didn't seem that weird to make the offer."

I didn't think that was it, not at all, but I didn't say anything.

"Where'd you end up going?"

"I went out drinking for a while, then came back here," I lied. And I didn't know why I was lying. I mean, I did know: I didn't want to hurt his feelings by revealing I'd gone to some girl's apartment where she sat on my dick and rode me while holding my ankles. But the fact was: I was an adult actor. Shane knew I had sex with other people on camera once a month, sometimes more. He probably still watched me, though he never talked about it anymore. We weren't exclusive.

Because we weren't anything more than a thing.

"Look, Shane, you just freaked me the fuck out. I've been enjoying this thing we have going, and I think you know that, otherwise I wouldn't come over as much as I do, but I just...I felt like you were trying to say something more the other night."

He swallowed. "I wasn't." I could tell he was lying, because there was a mixture of a high level of denial, like a child who claims not to have eaten the candy even though you know he fucking ate it, and a forced casual tone. He tried to be more casual, "You're being ridiculous. But there's never any winning with you...think whatever you want, I don't care, let's just go back to the way things were."

The way things were.

Oh, Shane. Remember how things once were? Remember how we met?

I do. I'll never forget.

It was in the cafeteria on the Tempe campus, near the sub shop. I had taken up an entire table with my books and papers so I could study for a biology test in between classes. You were walking by, and I saw you.

Right away, I thought you were hot, and not just any kind of hot, but one of the hottest people I'd ever seen. Now, there are a lot of hot people in the world, but there are only a few that I've ever been attracted to as much as you, the kind of longing attraction I could feel deep in my groin, the kind that shortened my breath and made me feel dizzy, the kind I knew would make studying for the next hour much more difficult if not impossible. I thought the moment where I saw you might be fleeting, that this encounter might be the only one we would share, so I took the opportunity to savor it, to observe you critically and paint a picture of you in my mind for the fantasies that would occupy my near future: 6'2", bronze skin and muscular, with mocha brown sun-kissed hair and an air of confidence that could only come from Mommy and Daddy telling you you were special all your life. I would later find out that guesstimation was correct. I could tell you were definitely some sort of athlete, but I wasn't sure which kind; you were wearing one of those loose-fitting breathable shirts and cargo-looking workout shorts with pockets, so I assumed you were probably an endurance athlete, a runner or a biker. I would also later find out that guesstimation was correct. You looked like the kind of guy who got a lot of girls, and I guessed you were straight, like really straight, which made me want you more because it meant I couldn't have you. I would find out, just a moment later, that that guesstimation was wrong.