March
"Just let him take you while your car's in the shop."
I can barely hear her over the rush of water coming out of the showerhead. "Shouldn't you be going with me?"
"You’re the one with free time during the day," Chrisette says dismissively. "Just look at the main ranch house, and then it's only, like, one minute east to see that barn that the owners said we could rent for half."
"Half?"
"The website says it hasn’t been updated, whatever that means."
"I don't know why you think Todd will be of any help." I don't want to go anywhere with him.
Chrisette pokes her head around the shower curtain to pinch my ass playfully. "Since you don't like it when I hang out with him alone…" she teases, then ducks back out when I reach for her.
Dear god, if only she knew. "Just come with, baby."
"I can't, Jesse," she says sympathetically. "I have to go to work. Todd said he'd be here at ten."
Fuck that. "I'll see if Scotty can take me," I reply. "He doesn't have shit to do on sabbatical."
"Whatever, that's fine. I gave Todd your number just in case," she adds as she sails out the door. “Love you!”
"You did what now? Chrisette? Hello?"
Before I'm even dressed I call Scott. When he answers he sounds completely distracted.
"Sorry, dude," he finally tells me after I wasted my breath explaining (some of) the situation. "I actually am driving Hannah's car today, and I have to pick her up for brunch as payment."
This must be how the Little Match Girl felt as the last flame went out. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I ask. "Crazy Pussy Hannah? Fucking brunch? You hate her!"
"And she hates me," Scott replies, "but that makes the sex a-fucking-mazing"
Even though he can't see it I shake my head. "This is going to bite you in the ass, man."
He laughs, "Come on, son. Everybody gotta stick they dick in crazy at some point. I'm pulling up, so I gotta go. If Hannah thinks I'm talking about her I won't get any road head. She loves giving road head."
"Fuck off, Scotty," I reply.
"You too, man. Later."
The beep of the ended call feels more final than usual. Maybe ordering a car is a better bet? I open a rideshare app and enter the ranch address. For fuck’s sake, I’m not paying a hundred and fourteen dollars to go to a house I don’t even really want to get married in. I try another app, then another, and another only to find the same results. An hour to be picked up, forty minutes to the ranch, and then however long until I could get another car…could I convince the driver to stick around for the ride home? Plus a generous tip. I do some mental math. How much is not being around Todd really worth?
I wait for some sort of fucked up text for the next hour. Get naked and blindfold yourself at 9:57. Some shit like that. If any idiot has stuck dick in crazy, that would be me. Just me letting Crazy get my dick in his ass, and then Crazy turning around and dicking me.
It’s still chilly outside, which is why I put on one of my good sweaters and jeans. And because I should probably make a good first impression on this ranch owner. Not because I care if Todd makes fun of me for wearing shorts. We haven’t crossed paths in months, so there’s basically no reason to waste any more energy thinking about him.
When Todd finally shows up I'm so tense that my asshole is trying to retreat into my body. The son of a bitch just pulls up to the curb and honks the horn. Todd takes one look at me and laughs, "I'm just doing this for Chrissy," when I hop in.
"Me, too, dumbass," I grumble, turning my cap around so I can pull the brim over my eyes. I spend the next forty-five minutes in silence while Todd listens to a podcast of celebrities interviewing each other. What else would it be? It gives me plenty of time to figure out how to tell the charming property owner that we don't want to rent her house or her barn. At least, I don't. Chrisette likes the idea of the mason jar, rustic, homespun outdoor wedding. I like the idea of our families not complaining the whole day.
When we reach the ranch I hop out without waiting for Todd. Neither do I introduce him to the woman who answers the door. Todd catches up to us as she’s taking me through the open living room.
It's a nice home, but it's never going to work for all of Chrisette’s ancient aunties and uncles.
"Is it normal for houses this style to have all these levels?" I ask as the tour comes to a close.
The lady shrugs. "It’s a series of add-ons…"
"Chrisette said that you guys need plenty of wheelchair access," Todd reminds me.
The woman nods. "Then in that case I do recommend that you check out the old barn. It's a fair-weather-only location for now, but the whole thing is flat."
I grit my teeth. I knew all that, which is why I asked about all the levels. Todd is just rubbing my face into how much time he spends with the woman I'm about to marry. We get it; you're close. "Can I poke around there for a bit?"
"Sure thing, sweetheart," the woman says. "Your fiancée told me on the phone that you’re getting married next fall? Weather should be good for a ceremony. I gotta go feed the horses, but it's just five minutes east of here. Keep going down the road; you'll find it."
“We’ll give you a call,” says Todd, shaking her hand.
We will not do a fucking thing, I don't say as I follow Todd back out to the car. Instead I shut the door a little harder than necessary and make a dumb comment.
"I'm still waiting for you to be useful, bro." It sounds like I'm trying to start a conversation, which is not the case.
Todd raises his eyebrows. "I'm a structural engineer. And a partner in my firm. Did Chrissy never tell you?"
"I have never asked," I respond with pride. Fuck Todd if he thinks I have any interest in him beyond how to legally remove him from this earth. But still, no wonder he can afford such nice shit.
"What do you do?" Todd asks like we're at a Christmas party. How come Chrisette never told him? I know she talks about me, because if her mom or sister don’t answer their phones and Chrisette’s mad at me, Todd is who she calls next.
"Graphic design and illustration," I reply shortly. It sounds cooler if I don’t add that it’s for a microstock firm and corporate app developers. I've been getting into the graphic novel game a little, cleaning pencil sketches and doing coloration on a freelance basis, but I don’t do it enough to talk about it.
Todd makes a huh face. "I never would have pegged you as an artist," he comments. “You seem like such a frat boy.”
Chrisette thought the same thing until she got to know me. She and Todd both use "frat boy" as code for idiot. I only wear t-shirts and shorts all the time because I work from home. "I never would have pegged you as a functioning adult. So, we're both surprised."
He looks like he's about to laugh but thinks better of it. “You'd be pretty funny if you weren't such a dick.”
“Nobody’s perfect.” I turn the radio on, which I know is rude, but I’d rather listen to commercials than try to talk to Todd. He has it programmed to the classical station, like of course he fucking does.
Todd doesn’t care about the loud orchestral music. “Did you start working out?” he asks.
Brushing aside how creepy it is that he’s noticed, I reply, “It’s for the wedding.”
“Heh. Nothing to do with how I kicked your ass?”
Chrisette is calling him, so I don’t have to answer. “Can it.” I press the answer button on the console. “Hey, Baby.”
“Hi guys!” Chrisette’s cheerful voice sounds through the car speakers. “How’d it go?”
“We saw the house and are heading to the barn.”
“Oh my god, cute. How was it?”
Todd butts in. “There are a lot of levels, Chrissy.”
“Ugh, I thought so. Any way to ramp it?”
“Ramp it?” I laugh. “Like a skate park for your grandma?”
“Like plywood, Jesse,” Todd corrects me, ruining the joke. “On inspection I don’t think it’s a good idea. The cost to retrofit the place, even bare bones, would be wasteful.”
“Aw boo!” Chrisette exclaims. She sounds far less upset with Todd than she would have been with me; maybe he is good for something. “Okay, Jesse, if the barn would work better please please please book it. The pictures were so cute!”
“I will,” I promise. The barn definitely won’t work, but I’ll send her some photos so she understands why.
Chrisette hangs up with a sunny goodbye, and now I’m in a much better mood. She’s fucking adorable. Hearing her voice reminds me that making her happy is worth any and everything.
The ranch owner was right: the barn is exactly five minutes from the main house. Even as Todd parks in the uneven pasture I can see holes in the walls. I snap some pictures for Chrisette. The dilapidation is aesthetically appealing, but any event here would feel less wabi sabi and more survived-a-tornado.
Todd follows me into the barn, yammering about the structure as though I’m not just exploring for fun. I have to turn my hat brim to the back so I can see in the dim interior. "There's a fucking hayloft," I say, mostly to myself. That's awesome.
Todd is not impressed. "It's dilapidated. The only thing holding it together are these pillars," he kicks one for emphasis, "and those bolts that are probably rusted in place. Actually, they're definitely rusted in place."
The dim light that filters through the old siding feels straight out of a movie. “My grandpa had a farm in Kansas, just on the border with Missouri," I say. "One of his dogs chased a raccoon up a ladder, into the hayloft, and right out that little door to the outside. Dumb animal fell about twenty feet into this big bush growing up the side of the barn. Not a scratch on him, but Grandpa got cats to keep rodents out of the hayloft after that."
I don't know why I wasted that information; Todd doesn't give a shit. "You still shouldn't have a large group of people in here, for any reason," he says. "The liability is insane on a rickety structure like this. It should be demolished, actually."
"Whatever, dude," I reply. "Just one more reason to get married in a hotel." Then I could at least make my mother happy.
"Chrisette doesn't want to get—" Todd starts, but I cut him off.
"I fucking know she doesn't want a hotel wedding. Quit playing like you know her better than me, you fucking asshole."
Todd puts his hands up like he's being super reasonable. "Fine. I was just trying to do her a favor."
"Good for you!" I retort sarcastically. "Then you can do her the favor of telling her that a barn wedding in November is a terrible idea, just like I've been saying for months."
Shaking his head, Todd squints at the rafters above us. “The Winchester is a way better deal than this. Ceremony and reception in the same place, get a deal on a block of rooms so guests can crash right there in the hotel…”
“I know.” Because it was my idea.
“There’s a good chance they’re already booked out,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken, “but I have some contacts there.”
I fold my arms. “Why?”
Todd scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘why?’ For Chrissy.”
“Nah, I don’t trust you. You’re a fucking reptile, bro.” I keep my tone cool. Just spitting facts, is all.
Todd puffs up. “I need you to check your high and mighty attitude, Jesse.”
“Shut up.”
Now he points at me like a fucking Uncle Sam poster. “I'm serious. If you can't at least be civil, I will save Chrissy a lifetime of disappointment.”
It’s my turn to explode. “Fuck you, dickweed!” I shout. “I'm saving her from you!”
“You fucked me—” Todd counters.
“Kind of,” I mutter.
“—and I fucked you!” Todd continues angrily. “I've had your cum on my hands more than once, bro. Frankly, you probably need to think a little more about whether or not you'll be able to spend your life with a woman.”
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. I grit my teeth. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, you fucking dildo. I was perfectly happy with a woman until you came along, and it was your decision to sit on my fucking cock. And to jack me off in a bathroom. And to be around me at all. Chrisette and I will be just fine without you around, so you can eat shit and die.” Then I add, to at least be civil, “Please.”
Todd looks over at me, and the insincere smile fades from my face as I recognize his expression. This is what I was afraid of.
He's between me and the door. I don't want to start another fight—Todd would probably beat me into a pulp. Instead I just shove him into a stack of hay bales (he goes oomph!) and run. I don't even check to see if Todd is following me; first rule of racing is to keep your eyes on the finish line. If I can get to the car I can lock him out, or at least be hard to reach. It'll give me some room for negotiation. Gimme the keys, say sorry, and I'll let you in. I can already imagine the frustration on his face. This is gonna be fucking fun.
I'm halfway in the front seat when Todd hauls me backward. The world spins as I tumble into the grass to catch myself on my hands and knees. Before I can get to my feet Todd puts his foot in my side and shoves. I end up sprawled face-down in the pasture. Todd's white sneakers approach; he grabs my ribcage and sits on my ass.
"Where are you gonna go?" he taunts.
I say nothing. Let's just fucking get this over with. Todd yanks my jeans down and parts my ass cheeks. He doesn't have a tube of KY hidden in his back pocket—this is going to hurt so bad.
Something warm and wet touches my asshole. Was I wrong? Did Todd actually bring lube in anticipation of fucking me next to the barn that might house my wedding? It takes several more light strokes for me to realize that it's Todd's tongue flicking over my skin. While it is by far the weirdest thing to have happened to me, I don't hate it. Like, it's not the same as someone touching my cock, but it's not bad. It would be relaxing, that kind of lazy eroticism of a Sunday afternoon fuck, if it weren't Todd licking me. The sun warms on my face, heats my back and turns the inside of my eyelids orange. I could go to sleep like this, except Todd is tonguing my asshole. Lucky for him I showered. He can't possibly lick and fuck me at the same time, so that has to be his finger pressed against my hole. And…it's inside me. I wince, and Todd responds by what feels like drooling on me.
Todd shifts and I can hear him undoing his fly.
"Please rethink this," I say, although I know he's not going to stop.
Todd spits on my asshole and continues fingering me. "Please quit clenching like an old nun twat."
“Have some respect, dude. My family is all Catholic."
"My family is all dead." That is seriously the moment he decides it's time to fuck. I'm too startled to tense up, so I guess it was a decent tactic.Todd braces himself on my ass cheeks, fucking me in long, deep strokes. It still hurts, it's way worse than the first time.
"That burns, you bastard," I growl. Todd responds by drooling on me a whole bunch more—is he just back there with his mouth hanging open?—and keeps going. That's better, at least, but he's fucking me…Todd fucks me like he owns me. Like he knows he has dirt on me now, and so he can throw me down when he feels like it and mount up. Resisting will just make it worse. I know that now; he'll start kissing me or something until he can blame me for actively participating. I also know, in an abstract way, that I would end up participating. For example, how I'm lying here with my pants around my ankles in an open field.
The breeze that filters through the weeds surrounding us makes me aware of how much I'm sweating already. It's hard work to keep still. There's something twisted in my soul, I decide as Todd fucks my ass, that makes this feel good. That's why I don't tell Chrisette, and why Todd continues to have this goddam hold on me. It's because it feels good. Sex in prickly weeds isn't better than what I have with my fiancé. Getting dicked by Crazy doesn't make my heart go pitter patter. But despite everything I believe about myself, this feels fucking good.
"You're so damn tight," Todd says, ruining things further. Todd’s knees are on the outsides of my thighs, anyway, so of course it’s going to be tight.
"It feels like my ass is gonna break in half,” I grunt.
“Then break,” Todd breathes. “Move.” He swats me a little, like giddy up, and all I can do in that position is arch my back a little.
A little changes a lot. I don’t know; there’s an off switch, maybe, in my brain—or dick-deep in my ass—and I suddenly don’t give a fuck about anything but getting fucked. The scratchy weeds, the dirt getting underneath my fingernails, the burn in my ass all go away. I’m loud. I’m so loud. My throat hurts and it’s fine because no one can hear me and I don’t care anyway. It doesn’t matter that my dick is trapped beneath me and it’s painfully hard. I can say ohmygodohmyfuckinggod all I want because I feel good, and not hear a single thing in response.
Todd’s pelvis slaps my ass with perverse thwacks. He’s grunting, “Ah fuck,” over and over, driving his dick into me so hard it makes my lungs shake. He grabs the back of my sweater to keep me from slipping away, using his other hand to grip my ass.
“Ah shit, I’m coming. Take it, fucker,” he bites out, and suddenly he’s thrusting in big, long, forceful strokes that rattle my brain. He slows down as he comes, panting, then finally pulls out with a groan. It’s hot. Everything is hot.
I haven't come yet, but I’m close enough that when Todd flips me over it only takes him a few strokes for me to shoot in short quick bursts. It spatters my stomach with dewy white cum as my body sinks into the earth, burns up and dissipates under the bright sky.
"Oh, fuck," I say to the wind. Immediately I am disgusted with myself. Fight next time. Say no. I don't have to let this happen to me. Tell Chrisette. That thought sobers me right up. Then she'd hate both me and Todd, and we could both die lonely. Would it be worth it to know that Todd didn't get her, either?
There is cum dribbling out of my ass. I take a deep breath. One. Two. Three. "Go get me a paper towel or something," I order. He stands up and strolls back to the car, rearranging his pants as he walks. My brain runs through all the diseases I might have now. How would I ever explain anal warts to Chrisette? Would she forgive me after all the shit I gave her about spending too much time with Todd? I take the fast food napkins that Todd offers me and shove them between my ass cheeks, pulling my jeans on quickly. I don't know how to deal with this.
What am I supposed to do about cum in my ass? Is there an additional set of health hazards associated with sperm in that part of the body, like anal fissures or something? Is Todd even clean? My asshole feels three sizes too big and raw.
Todd is just fucking watching me, waiting for me to figure this shit out so we can go, and before I can stop myself I've put my foot in his chest and kicked him into the ground.
He lands on his ass and rolls, his breath leaving in a huge whoosh. It looks like he can't breathe, but I don't fucking care. I stand over him and put my finger in his face. "Don't you ever put your bare dick inside my body again, do you hear me?"
Todd nods, gasping for air. If he broke his tailbone I'm in deep shit. Maybe I should have counted all the way to ten.
"Don't even fucking think about it," I reiterate. Part of me knows that I'm kidding myself, that I know Todd will blackmail me for as long as I’m afraid to lose Chrisette. But I'll be damned if the bastard ever fucks me without a goddam condom or lube. Never again.
I take the keys from his hand and march to the car. Hopping into the driver's side with discomfort, I put the seat back a notch that I don’t need and adjust the mirrors as Todd comes around to climb in. Fucking dickhead. I turn the radio on as loud as I can stand it so we can’t talk.
When I pull into my driveway I leave the car running and stomp straight into my house, slamming the door behind me. My asshole is on fire. Porn always makes it look so easy, like people just pop into a butt like no big deal. Just as I've pulled the last of the napkins out of my ass cheeks the door opens. I can't even escape into my own fucking home.
"You forgot something," Todd says. This fucking douche and his "kiss me goodbye" routine. You know what? Rather than let him have the satisfaction of making me do it twice, I'm just gonna plant a good one on him. The kind that make you go mmm. Then I'll figure out how to clean my insides.
Todd watches my approach like he's ready to get kicked again. I'm tempted, but no, I don't hit him, I grab a handful of his shirt and stick my tongue in his mouth. Of course, that alone won't do it. Sliding my tongue over his, I pull Todd closer by the waist. I kiss him like I've kissed girls I'm trying to sleep with: back him against the door, pull his leg over my hip, press my body full against his, tangle my fingers in his hair; I even lift his shirt to grab a handful of his chest. Todd has enough muscle that there's something to hold onto, and from the way he rolls his hips against mine I'd say he likes it.
"Mmm."
I got it! It's low, throaty, and I almost miss it, but it's there. Ha, ha, motherfucker! I pull back immediately and drop my hands. Todd is breathing a little hard, the fucking chump, and I can’t keep a triumphant grin off my face.
Leaning forward, I say pointedly, "Bye."
Without a word, Todd presses to my chest the pamphlets I must have left in his car and leaves.
When we undress that night Chrisette immediately notices all the chigger bites I have on my groin and chest. I tell her that Todd shoved me into the weeds when I was trying to pee at the barn. Chrisette laughs so hard that she can’t breathe.
