We never discussed monogamy. Christian was just the type of guy that expected it; his only flaw was that he was naive enough to think I could give it to him. I did pretty well the first six months or so we were together. I only tricked once or twice a month. How pathetic is it to be proud of that?
I was always careful; I always made them assume more of the risk. I always used a condom, and I never bottomed for anyone but Christian. I never took another man's dick in my mouth. That was only for Christian; he was the only one I trusted enough.
We had been seeing each other about seven months when Christian's mother died tragically in a car wreck at the age of forty-four. To say Christian was close to his mother would be a huge understatement. I had gotten to know her over those months and she was a very special lady. I was at Christian's place when he got the call. We still had separate residences, but stayed at one apartment or the other five or six nights a week. We had just finished dinner when the phone rang. Christian answered and I watched his face contort from the news. I literally picked him up from the floor and sat rocking him as he cried.
For the next few days I was the dutiful boyfriend, never leaving Christian's side as he went through the motions. Christian's parents had been divorced for years and his younger sister wasn't taking their mother's death any better than Christian so I was the one who worked with the mortuary, planning the service and making sure all the forms were filled out for her life insurance policies. I have a whole new respect for the people in the death care industry.
The evening after her funeral, Christian decided he wanted to stay with his sister for a couple of days. I didn't try to talk him out of it, by then I really needed a break. I left him there in his sister's care promising to call him the following morning and drove straight to my favorite dance club, downing three or four shots within the first ten minutes. The last few days had been hell and I just wanted to forget it all.
I looked across the dance floor and spotted an old friend. He had some E that he was more than happy to share; I spent the rest of the night in a state of bliss.
I awoke the next morning in a strange bed lying next to an unknown cutie. I crawled out of bed as silently as I could; quickly taking a piss and dressing before I left sleeping beauty and slipped out of the apartment, hoping my car was somewhere close by. I had no memory of driving anywhere last night, but there sat my car in front of the apartment building.
I found my way home and after a long hot shower, I called Christian. He had decided to stay with his sister another night so we made plans for me to pick him up the next afternoon. It was fine with me. I crawled in to my bed and slept for most of the next twenty-four hours.
I read in the paper a few days later that a guy was found dead in his apartment. I have always wondered if it was my trick. I really don't remember where the apartment was, or anything about the guy except he was about my age and had dark hair. I know he never stirred the whole time I was clamoring around his bedroom looking for my clothes. I mean, I didn't think anything about it at the time, I just assumed he was a sound sleeper. I have no reason to think that he was the dead guy, but I have always wondered.
I picked up Christian at his sister's the following day and asked him where he wanted to go, his place or mine. He said mine and after that he just never left. Like so many other things, we never discussed it. He just stayed with me at my apartment and a few months later when his lease was up, he didn't renew and we moved what was left of his belongings into my place.
His living with me really had no affect on my extracurricular sex. I had rarely brought a trick home with me, so things pretty much stayed the same, except that I was picking up strange men more often. I'm not sure if it was Christian's mother's death, or him moving in with me, or just what, but I was back to tricking a couple times a week.
I came home one evening from work to find Christian had prepared a beautiful dinner of my favorite foods. The table was set with candles and flowers.
"Know what today is?" Christian asked. He was absolutely beaming.
"Let's see, I think it was a year ago today that I tried to pick you up in a bookstore," I answered. The look on his face told me I had won the prize.
"You remembered," he whispered.
I remembered because it was also the anniversary of my favorite diva, Marilyn Monroe's death, but I didn't tell Christian that. I let him, once again, think of me as a better person than I was.
That night after we had made love and he lay sleeping with his head on my shoulder, I remained awake thinking just how fortunate I was to have someone like Christian. I vowed that night that I would give up my other life, that from that night on, I would be faithful to Christian.
I did pretty well for a while too. I think that first time I tried to quit I made it a little over six weeks. No one but Christian for six weeks, but it was not to last.
I fell off the wagon one evening six weeks or so later after an unusually stressful day. My boss had been on my ass for the last few days, but on this particular day I wasn't able to hold my tongue. He barked at me and I barked back. It turned into a major brouhaha and by the end of the day I was holding on by a thread. I called Christian, "Come have a drink with me."
"I can't Dylan, I have class tonight," he answered. He had started taking a few college courses in the evenings, working toward his MBA. "Are you okay? You sound upset."
"Yeah, just a bitch of a day."
"So get your dancing shoes out and go let off some steam."
"You don't mind?" I asked as the warning bells were going off in my head.
"No, I don't mind. I'll see later tonight."
I knew better than to go out, to go to the dance clubs, especially without Christian, but the thought of sitting home alone was too bleak. I told myself that I would just have a drink or two and then go home; just kill some time until Christian got out of class. I have always been a good liar, especially to myself.
There I was, a few hours later, in the back room with some twink on his knees, worshipping my cock.
When I arrived home Christian was already in bed, asleep. I took a quick shower and slipped under the covers, quietly so as not to wake him.
"Hmm," he moaned still half asleep. "Did you have fun tonight?" he asked.
"Yeah,” I said and pulled him close to me. That was all that was ever said about the evening.
The fact that I had slipped, that I had failed, weighed heavy on me. I had never really tried to be monogamous before and the fact that it didn't seem to be an achievable goal for me made me feel less than human. I fell into a depression that seemed to last forever.
"Are you okay, Dylan?" Christian would ask me over and over. "You seem so sad."
My answer was always the same, "I'm fine, just stressed over work."
One night Christian took the conversation a step further. "Why don't you go see someone, Dylan?"
"Someone? You mean like a therapist?" The thought of seeing a shrink scared the hell out of me. I was convinced that with one look they would know I was one sick puppy and want to lock me up for observation.
"Or a medical doctor. Maybe they would prescribe some anti-depressants or something."
I nodded, a medical doctor did seem less threatening and I had heard that some times anti-depressants helped with the treatment for addiction. Maybe if I took them I wouldn't have this sick need inside of me. "Maybe so, maybe I'll call Dr. Wilson tomorrow." Maybe it was worth a try.