The Sweet Side Of The Ropes: Enthralling Tales Of Male-Male Romance (3 page)

I'd first met Julian when he was a teaching an Intro to Ancient Greece class. I remember passing his classroom on the way to mine. He was sitting perched on the edge of his desk, regaling his class in a voice hot enough to melt steel. Smoky and rich, you didn't just
hear
Julian's voice—you
felt
it with your entire body. It wrapped itself around me in a warm, velvety cocoon, drawing me into the doorway.

I remember him pausing mid-speech and cocking his head as if he'd heard something no else had, before smiling and continuing on. I would have stood there all day listening to him, if I hadn't had a class of my own to teach.

Later that day I ran into him in the teacher's lounge.

He walked in, his gait fluid and graceful. A thin white cane lightly tapped the floor before him. It was only then that I'd realized he was blind.

He paused and tilted his head again in that way he has, as if he's listening to music only he can hear, then walked directly over to me. He had spoken in a sinfully rich voice. “Did you enjoy my lecture on early Greek civilization?".

"How did you know I was there? Or
here
for that matter?” The questions were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I could have kicked myself halfway across the campus. “Oh man, I'm sorry. That was insensitive, wasn't it?” This time I wasn't asking a question—I was stating fact and was very glad that he couldn't see my cheeks heat.

"Not at all. It's a natural question. I could smell your cologne.
Dolce and Gabbana
, isn't it?” Jules smiled. “Julian DeMarco,” he extended his hand in my general direction.

I took it, shaking it. “Devin Holmes, and that was very impressive, Julian."

"Not really. I just follow my nose, so to speak.” He laughed. “Join me for lunch?"

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. As it turned out, we had a lot more in common than just our tastes in cologne. We both shared a love of Italian cuisine; both had attended State universities on scholarships, had no families to speak of, and were fans of film noir to the point of obsession.

We were also both gay. I can't lie—I was attracted to Jules from the first moment I laid eyes on him. His smoky voice did things to my body that made sitting through my next class more than a little uncomfortable. But that was as far as it had ever gone. I'd hinted at more but he'd backed away, and although I was disappointed to say the least, in the interest of our friendship I'd let go of any romantic aspirations.

He just wasn't interested in me, not in that way, which was fine with me. Sex I could get anywhere. Real friendship was something much more difficult to find.

After a time, when our friendship reached the point where I felt comfortable talking to him about his condition, I broached the subject of my writing a blind character into my next book. The character I had in mind lost his sight unexpectedly as an adult. In a way, I wanted to base the character on Jules, and I tried to explain that I wanted to conduct a small experiment so I might better understand.

It took a great deal of cajoling and pleading to get Julian to agree to help me.

"
Hearing
about it isn't the same as
experiencing
it. I need firsthand knowledge if I'm going to write a character that's believable, Jules."

"That's my point. You don't understand what it's like, Devin. You'd be totally dependent on me for
everything
. It takes time to learn how to do for yourself when your vision is taken away. You have no idea how difficult it can be. Or how frustrating."

"Exactly why I need to experience it, Jules. Because I
have
no idea.” I patted his knee then pasted a pair of self-adhering, thick gauze pads over my closed eyes. I added a pair of dark wrap-around sunglasses, which blocked out what little light slipped through the gauze. “Okay. I'm ready, Jules."

"You can't see anything?"

I felt his hand on mine, reassuring, warm.

"Nope. Not a blessed thing."

"You doing okay?"

"It's been all of half a minute, Jules. I'm fine."

"Okay, then. What do you want to do first?"

"Well, I need to call my editor about a deadline.” I thought it to be a simple enough task. Using the phone was something I did many times in a single day. I could handle that, easy.

Not.

Patting my pants, I realized that I'd forgotten my cell phone in my backpack, which I'd left in the bedroom. Standing up, I turned toward where I knew the doorway to Jules’ guestroom was, took two steps and promptly tripped over the coffee table, nearly falling flat on my face. Only Julian's strong arm hooked under mine kept me from knocking loose a couple of teeth.

I detected a trace of humor in Jules’ voice. “Lesson Number One: learn where things are, and then leave them there,. The coffee table is two steps from the sofa. The doorway is six steps from the coffee table. The television is two steps to your right, the wing chair is two steps to your left."

I tried forming a map of the room in my mind, but it was still difficult. Stepping forward without being able to see where I was going, especially after falling over the coffee table, was easier said than done. My hands automatically flew up in front of me, fingers splayed, trying to feel for obstacles.

"Put your hands down, Devin. You look like a mummy from a bad 50's “B” horror flick. Here, take my cane, instead.” Julian pressed his thin cane into my hand.

I tried to mimic his light tapping, sweeping the cane across the floor in front of me, and ended up clipping his dog, Buster. His startled yip scared the hell out of me. I realized that I had been “blind” for all of three minutes and was already as tense as a nun at a porn star convention.

Jules whispered in my ear

His breathe warmed my cheek

Jules’ breath warmed my cheek as he whispered in my ear. Damn he smelled good. “Take a deep breath and try again.” He was wearing my favorite scent, Dolce and Gabanna,
Light Blue
. When did he start wearing it? I hadn't smelled it on him before.

Slowly, feeling as though I was going to step off a cliff at any moment, I took a few steps forward.

"That's it. You're doing fine.” His hand cupped my elbow. “Cane travel is like dancing. Your body moves, and the cane is the rhythm it dances to.” His warm hand covered mine, showing me how to swing the cane in front of me in an arc that was slightly wider than my shoulders. “Step left, tap right. Step right, tap left."

The cane tapped against the wall, and I continued to flick it lightly against the floorboard until I found the open doorway. Making my way into the bedroom without further mishap felt like a major accomplishment to me, and I was inordinately proud of myself.

"Crap.” I bit my lip and swung my head back and forth out of habit, although I couldn't see a goddamn thing. “I forgot where I put my backpack. I think I left it on the bed, but I can't remember."

Jules laughed. “I refer you back to Rule Number One. Everything has a place, and if you don't return it to its proper place you may someday end up brushing your teeth with epoxy glue."

Good point. I swept the cane over the surface of my bed, feeling it hit something solid. I smiled in triumph. “Aha! I
did
leave it on the bed!"

Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, I felt for my backpack. Finding my flip phone wasn't so bad, but dialing it was another story entirely. The buttons were so tiny and flat that I could barely feel where one ended and the next began, and I had a hard time remembering their sequence. My phone also had several extraneous buttons including send, end, and directional keys. Which was which? I frowned, trying to picture the face of my phone in my mind.

After a few minutes, I felt Jules take my phone from my hands. “Try mine".” He slipped a streamlined object into my hand.

"This is a phone?” I ran my hands over the bumpy texture. I could feel the buttons; each had raised dots that I knew must be Braille. “It feels like a remote control. Where's the screen?"

"And I would need a display because...?"

"Oh, right.” I felt my face heat, and was glad he couldn't see me blush. My cheeks must have turned fire engine red. Of course he wouldn't need an LCD screen.

"This phone is designed for the visually impaired, Devin. It has Braille keys, as well as voice dialing capability, and talking Caller ID, signal and battery strength, phonebooks ... every function speaks to you."

"Cool!” I was thoroughly impressed. “But I don't know the Braille system."

Jules took the phone for a moment then handed it back. “Say the number slowly and clearly."

I did, and heard the call ring through. I spent the next few minutes talking to my editor. When I was through I handed the phone back to Jules.

"I felt him stand up, his weight lifting from the mattress. His voice came from my right. “Hungry?"

I was, but I had another, more pressing need. “Actually, I have to ... uh..."

"Ah, you need a bathroom break. Okay, let's go."

Now this was going to be embarrassing, I just knew it.

Using the tap-step method Jules had taught me, I found my way to the bathroom.

"Okay, drop your drawers and have a seat,” he said when my cane chinked against the porcelain. There was a smile tilting his lips, I just knew it. I could hear it in his voice.

"Sit? I only have to piss."

"Doesn't matter. The easiest way to relieve yourself when you're visually impaired is by sitting down. Otherwise, it's pretty much hit or miss."

Jesus. I'd never thought of that. I hadn't peed sitting down since I was in potty training.

Jules chuckled. He probably guessed what I was thinking. “I suppose you can handle this by yourself. I'll be right outside when you're done."

I heard him leave, closing the door behind him. Quickly, I attended to my business, flushed, washed and dried my hands, and did all of it without falling, tripping, or cracking my skull open on the bathtub.

Opening the door, I was smiling as broadly as any three year old who'd finally mastered the art of the toilet.

"Jules?"

"I'm in the kitchen!” Jules’ voice echoed in the hallway.

Following my nose, carefully sweeping my cane in front of me, I made it to the kitchen and took a seat at the table. Delicious smells were coming from the direction of the stove, making my stomach rumble.

A few moments later, the aroma of eggs and bacon wafted up as I heard Jules set my plate down in front of me. He took my hands and placed them over a napkin and a cold metal utensil. “Here's your fork.” He let my fingers feel the shape of the tines. “Glass of orange juice is at one o'clock. On your plate you have scrambled eggs at six o'clock and bacon at twelve."

Eating without seeing was an experience in and of itself. Half a dozen times my fork reached my mouth with nothing on it. I spilled the orange juice and knocked over the salt-and-pepper shakers.

In the end I managed to feed myself. I couldn't imagine having to have cooked anything, though. I'd probably have set myself on fire, and told Jules so.

He laughed. “You've only lost your vision for a day, Devin. Children who lose their sight or who are born blind learn as any child would, but it takes in-depth rehabilitation to learn to care for yourself and to be independent when you become visually impaired as an adult."

He cleared the table and then took my arm. “Come on, I want to show you something,” he pulled me up from my seat.

Jules led me back into the bedroom. “Wait here for a minute."

I could hear clothes rustling, felt the breeze of his passing as he moved about the room. Finally, I felt his hand on my arm. “Do you trust me, Devin?"

"Of course I trust you,” I answered without hesitation. “Why?"

"Because I want to show you what it's like."

"What
what's
like?"

He didn't answer. Instead, I felt Jules’ lips, warm and petal-soft, press against mine. Suddenly, I was enveloped with the subtle fragrance of his cologne, detecting hints of orange and chocolate in it that I'd never been aware it possessed, even though I wore it myself. I could feel the bristles of his facial hair against my cheek; I could almost
hear
them scrape across my skin.

Moaning, I opened for him, welcoming his tongue. It was cool and sweet from the orange juice he'd drunk. I warmed to the kiss quickly..

I found myself enthralled by the texture and taste of him. It was as if I'd never been kissed before. My entire world was reduced to his velvety tongue, to his warm breath, to his sweet taste. To the sounds of his breathing, and the small, eager noises he made in his throat as he kissed me.

Touching him, revealed bare, sleek skin. I ran my hands over his biceps and shoulders. Cupping his scruffy cheeks in my palms, I tried to picture him in my mind. I knew his face well, knew the angle of his jaw and the shape of his nose. In my mind I saw the fullness of his lips, the deep cleft in his chin, and the beauty of his eyes.

His fingers unbuttoned my shirt, sliding it from my shoulders. The cooler air raised the hair on my arms, and sent a shiver down my spine. Jules’ long, elegant fingers ran lightly over my chest, pausing to tease at my nipples. His touch was electrical, light and easy, then gone as he worked my belt free and unzipped my khakis.

"Lie down on the bed.” Jules pressed against me, backing me up until my calves felt the mattress behind them. I sat, and felt him pull at my shoes and socks, first one foot then the other.

Something warm and wet slid up the center of the sole of my left foot, and it took a moment for my mind to register that it was Jules’ tongue. Funny, but I'd never realized how exquisitely sensitive feet were, not until his lips closed over each toe in turn, pulling them one by one into his warm and wet mouth. His teeth nipped at the delicate skin over my anklebone, his fingers massaging my instep. By the time he turned his attentions to my right foot, my hands were twisted in the sheets and my body burned for him.

His hands slid under my hips, pulling both my pants and underwear off. Blood suffused my skin, warming it to a blush, knowing that I was now lying naked on his bed. God knew why—I was hardly a virgin and Jules couldn't see me. Maybe that was it—he was seeing me with his hands, with his mouth, and somehow that made it much more intimate than any other encounter I'd ever had. There was no hiding anything from his gently probing, questing fingers and tongue.