Chances Aren't (14 page)

After he unlocks the door, I thank him and slip inside. The room is an unusual upside down "U" shape with the door directly between the two sides of the room. There is a wall of closets that separate both sections of the room, so standing just inside the doorway you cannot see anything at all of either side. This affords a little privacy, if let's say one or the other of us had a girl over. Something I don't really need to worry about tonight, since Alan is away.

My side is on the right. I head around the corner and stand there taking it all in— the marred walls, the small refrigerator, the single bed and the tiny television set with a beanbag chair under the window. I spot my white work shirt on the bed and pick it up. After stripping off my clothes, I slip on the shirt and head for the chest of drawers near the window in search of my black work pants.

As I kneel down and open the bottom drawer, I hear the door to the room open, then close.

Shit, Alan is back, this isn't supposed to—

Out of the corner of my eye I see a towel fly across the room and land on a chair.

"Alan, what are—"

"What the hell are you doing in here dude," the guy in the room interrupts in a voice that sounds all too familiar.

I turn to look at him and my jaw drops. The guy covers up his private parts with his hands and glares at me. Our eyes meet and neither of us says anything. We simply look each other over with shocked expressions.

Falling back, I end up on my ass, reaching for the wall to keep from losing my balance even more. "What the fuck?"

"Who are you?" He says as if he's seen a ghost.

This isn't how it's supposed to go. I cover my head with my hands and sigh. "Fuck!" My first thought is what if I kill him? Will that fix this problem? Opening my eyes to look him over, I quickly decide that's probably not a good thing to explore.

He narrows his eyes. "Are you a cousin or… I know I don't have any brothers, um…"

I roll my eyes. "I'm you, asshole."

"What?"

I rise to my feet and glare at him, or
past me
or whatever the hell you want to call
him
. "I'm you, well you from the damn future... I'm here to fix the stupid shit you're about to get yourself into and I'm here to have the time of my life tonight. Well, I was anyway."

He lifts his hands up and runs them through his hair as he shakes his head. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Instead of explaining further, I take this opportunity to check out the equipment. A smile spreads across my face. "Hey, from this angle, we don't look all that small. What they say is true, when you look down at it in a mirror it looks smaller, but from the side it's not too bad." I give him a semi-convincing shrug.

Cringing, he covers up once again. "Knock it off!"

"What?"

"Commenting on my, you know, that's really weird."

"It is not weird to comment on your own dick."

"Yes it is." He scoffs.

I cover my eyes with my hand. "Why don't you put something on then?" I sigh, waiting a moment. "Are you
decent
now?"

"Yeah."

I find he's now wearing the towel and I continue, "I was just saying, I mean, I know we're not porn star sized or anything, but it's not as bad, from like the female perspective as I always thought it was."

"Dude, can we please stop taking about my penis."

"It's my penis too!"

"Whatever." Cringing, he looks to the clock radio. "I've got to go to work. I don't know who you are or what exactly you're doing here, but I want you to leave."

"I told you I am you from twenty five years in the future. I came to relive the best night of my life. I saved this guy's family and he came back as an angel and offered me this wish. It's a really long story."

"Uh-huh." Rushing past me, he opens a drawer, pulls out a pair of white briefs and slips them on under his towel.

He tosses the towel off and I shake my head. "Those underwear are pretty lame. Look what I'm wearing, now this is what—"

"Screw you. That's what everyone wears today."

I pause a moment to think. "Oh, yeah, sorry."

He opens another drawer, grabs a pair of black pants and pulls them on. "I don't believe you, you're some sort of cousin I've never met or maybe I'm dreaming or something. I really drank way too much last night and—"

"You're not dreaming."

Standing in front of me, he holds out his hand and gives me a tired look.

"What?" I ask.

"Shirt."

"Oh, yeah." I strip off the shirt and hand it over. I'm wearing only boxer briefs now. I notice the oddly shaped birthmark on his right shoulder and look to my own. It matches. I point to my shoulder and say, "Look."

He checks out my birthmark, then his own and lets out a whimper. "Shit!"

"Look at me," I begin. "I'm not a cousin, I'm you— down to every hair on our head, every part exactly the same. You want me to show you mine?" Looking down, I take hold of the waistband of my underwear and look him in the eye.

"No, don't."

"Oh, lighten up... Grab my driver's license. It's in my wallet in my pants pocket right there."

After looking around the room, he spots the pants and removes the wallet.

"It's in the left side in the front."

He pulls out a stack of cards and shifts through them. When he finds the license, he studies it for a moment. "You could have had this printed up. This is fake."

I sigh, rolling my eyes. "Wait, remember that time in high school you, you know, we were home alone, and let's just call it, lonely… We got creative with the washcloth and the cup?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" He looks away from me, horrified.

"You know what I'm talking about, your dick hurt for like a week."

"Shut up."

"It was like a rug burn, remember it was all red and—"

"I'm serious, shut up!" His jaw drops and he stares at me shaking his head quickly.

I smile. "You'll be happy to know they make sex toys like that in the future so you don't need to make your own."

"Great." He sighs, takes a few steps slowly backward and sits down on the bed.

My eyes light up. "Oh and remember that time when you hid your underwear, you know the ones with—"

"Okay, okay. I believe you." He puts his hand up in surrender. After taking a deep breath, he looks at the license, then at my face before returning to the ID and frowns. "Holy shit. I lose my fucking hair, is that what you're telling me? You look like shit."

"I look pretty good for forty five." I scoff. "I stay in pretty good shape, you douche bag. Trust me, it could be a lot worse."

"Yeah," He replies sarcastically.

"I'm serious, you should see some of the guys we went to college with, they're—"

"This is not happening. What do you want with me?"

"Look, I didn't know you were going to be here, so I don't have a clue. If William were here I would beat the shit out of him."

Narrowing his eyes, he says, "Who the hell is William?"

"The angel guy." I give him a tired look. "Try to keep up, okay."

"Oh, yeah the angel." He stares straight ahead at the wall.

It hits me and I smile. Putting on a straight face, I move to sit next to him on the bed and say as sincerely as I can, "You look a little pale. Why don't you stay here and I'll go to work for you. You just go to a movie or something."

He slowly looks my way. "Really?"

"You've been hit with a lot here and you deserve a night off."

"Oh, yeah, that a good idea. I feel sick anyway."

I curl my lip to hide the smile that's fighting to break free as I rise up and hide my face from him.

"Wait a second," he says. He gets up and moves in front of me, giving me a suspicious look. "The night of your life— what are you talking about exactly?"

"Oh, nothing... I mean, yes, there is a night of your life, but it's not tonight. You meet a girl a couple days from now and with her, you have the night of your life." I give him a confident nod.

His eyes light up. "I knew Laura was interested in me. I knew it. We're working together tonight." He takes a half a step closer to me. "What happens? Tell me!"

"Um, I, uh, is she working tonight? I think she calls in sick or—"

"You're a bad liar."

"I'm not lying."

"Screw you future boy. She's working tonight." He heads toward the window then turns back and points his finger at me wearing a huge smile. "I saw the way she looked at me two nights ago when she dropped me off. She digs me and I'll bet she comes back here with me and we—"

"Okay. Okay."

"What?"

"Yes, she comes back here and you and…" I point to the bed.

"Cool." He lets out a girly giggle rubbing his hands together.

"Pull it together." I cringe. "You are really a nerd, it's a wonder you ever got laid."

"What do you mean?"

"Just listen. Don't screw this up. If you act like you know she's coming over, you could totally screw everything up. You've got to play it cool."

He scoffs. "I can play it cool."

"You really can't. Believe me, I know us, I mean, you or the old me…" I shake my head, confused. "I, however, know how to pull this off. Trust me."

"No way."

Moving close to him I put my hands on his shoulders. "Look, yes, you two have a little fun tonight, but you never ever see her again. She's experienced and you have no idea what the hell you are doing in bed."

"I do too."

I shake my head and sigh. "You don't even know how to go down on a girl."

"I do so."

"That time with Annette doesn't count. The time she kept her legs flat on the bed and your neck was sore for a week."

"Oh, yeah." He looks to be remembering the tragic event. "That was a disaster."

"I've had twenty five years' experience, I know what I'm doing. Let me just have this one night and then I'll turn her over to you. I'll even give you some pointers so you'll know what to do for next time. After I give her three orgasms, she'll be waiting outside your door every time you come back here. She won't be avoiding your calls, she'll be eating out of your hand."

He looks at me unsure.

"You can either get one blow job or a hundred, you dec—"

"I get a blow job tonight?" His eyes light up.

"Um, I'm not sure, I—"

"I totally do, don't I?" Pulling away from me, he paces around the room. "Holy shit. I can't believe it. Remember Kim, she almost did it, but—"

"We don't have time for this," I interrupt. "Seriously, just let me take this one night."

"No, I got it." He nods his head. "I got it."

"I don't think you do." I shake my head and sigh.

"I won't screw this up." He slips the shirt over his arms and buttons a few buttons. "I'll be okay." He pulls his shoes on. "Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. I've been waiting for a blow job for like twenty years and this is the night."

He gives me a wide smile and slaps me on the shoulder hard before heading to the door. "I'm late. Wish me luck."

"Hey."

He turns back to me.

"Remember don't screw it up. Don't act like you know... play it cool."

"Oh, I've totally got this." He gives me a confident smile.

"Hey."

"What?"

Pointing at his shirt, I roll my eyes. "You're shirt isn't buttoned right."

He looks down at it and shrugs. "Shoot." He goes to work on it as he slips out the door.

"Moron." Slumping on the bed, I sigh. "Twenty years… I've been waiting twenty five years for this."

I hear the door open and he's back. He looks pointedly at me and says, "You stay here. I don't need you going out and doing God knows what and screwing up my life."

"Okay," I grumble.

"I'm serious."

"All right Ben," I say, my words dripping with sarcasm as I wave him away dismissively. "Now go to work. You're late."

"Stay here." He checks his watch, curses under his breath and rushes away.

At 6:27 p.m. I wake from a nap with a diamond-hard, guy-in-the-prime-of-his-life boner. Purely in the interest of science I decide to take it for a test drive. Things haven't changed all that much in twenty five years, but I can't honestly say that the quality of my erections are what they were when I was in my twenties. I pull my rejuvenated equipment out of my boxer briefs and start working on it. I'm certainly curious to remember what an orgasm feels like at this age.

Thirty seconds later I finish and I surprise myself with the strength of my climax. It's so much bigger than I'm used to lately that I literally have to cover my mouth to keep from screaming out. I'd forgotten that I used to be a lot quicker on the draw back in the day— a product of youth and inexperience and not being really in control of one's body, I suppose.