Inches of Trust

Crimson Regret-2

The bar was set up in the corner of the kitchen and people were stacked around it, getting drinks. Brian stepped on something that rolled out from under his foot and he lurched backward, trying not to fall. Zorro grabbed him around the chest and lifted him back to his feet.

“Oh, man, sorry. I stepped on something,” apologized Brian.

“No problem. I’m good at rescuing…people,” replied Zorro. He smiled at Brian. Oooh, baby. Maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t see the upper half of the man’s face, except the eyes, but that jaw line and that lower lip. That was a mouth just begging to be kissed, thought Brian. He was really glad his make-up was a bright shade of crimson, because it would hide his intense blush.

That hesitation before Zorro’s last word…Was that a hint? Did Zorro like guys? Brian was suddenly having bad flashbacks of a sombrero with pom-poms: not sexy. This guy was hot. The puffy sleeves and loose cut of his black poet’s shirt accentuated his broad shoulders. The deep vee at the neck was only partly laced up and showed a tantalizing slice of hairy chest and strong collar bone. If he stood here looking at this guy much longer, he was going to need to adjust his pants, because they were definitely feeling too tight.

The crowd of people shuffled so Brian and Zorro were able to move close enough to the bar to order.

“I’ll take a Hoegaarden,” said Brian. Trust Alicia to serve something a generous cut above domestic swill. No hard liquor, but eight kinds of beer and a half dozen wine selections.

“What’s Hoegaarden?” asked Zorro.

“It’s a Belgian wheat beer. It’s good. Try one. Especially since they’re free,” said Brian.

“Okay. You’ve got a point,” said Zorro.

“Two in fact,” said Brian, aiming a finger at his horns.

Zorro groaned. “Give me one of the Hoegaardens, too,” he said to the bartender. “Maybe I can drown myself before this guy kills me with the puns.”

“I’m going to go outside for a while. It’s really packed in here,” said Brian.

“I’ll catch up to you in a few minutes. I need to go say hi to Mike.” Zorro squeezed between several people and headed off toward the front of the house.

Brian presumed the Mike Zorro was referring to was Alicia’s husband. He went out through the door at the back of the kitchen onto the porch. It was at least twenty degrees cooler outside, but it was a welcome change after the press of people inside.

A half-moon was peeking through a broken layer of clouds. Nice night, he thought, leaning on the railing. If Zorro did actually come back to talk to him, how exactly did he go about finding out if the guy was interested? Much as he hated the gay bar scene, if you went to one of those, you generally didn’t have to worry about getting decked if you propositioned somebody or copped a feel. He’d done that once at another party, long ago. Slightly drunk, he’d felt up a really nice behind. The guy had been absolutely pissed and hauled off and punched him in the face. One black eye later…Brian had learned his lesson.

After twenty minutes, Brian figured he’d learned another lesson. Guys who were interested showed up. Zorro hadn’t. Brian had already been at the party for a couple hours, seen and been seen by a host of his co-workers. It was probably time to start thinking about packing it in and heading for home. He heard the porch door open and he glanced back. Four people came out; three were digging out cigarettes and lighters, but the last was Zorro, headed toward him.

“Thanks for the suggestion about the beer,” he said. “It’s good. I’d never heard of it before. You a beer snob?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. I can’t stand most of the domestic stuff, except some of the microbrews,” replied Brian.

Zorro leaned back against the rail next to him, propping an elbow on it. “So the demon has discerning tastes?”

“I’d like to taste you.” Oh, s**t, he couldn’t believe he’d said that. Talk about a really bad pick up line. Once again, he was obscenely glad of the red makeup.

Zorro was silent for a moment. Maybe the man was trying to find a way to be polite with his refusal. “I…might be interested in letting you.”

The comment promptly tied Brian’s stomach in a knot.

“Why don’t we, uh…walk down in the garden?” suggested Zorro.

Brian nodded, suddenly tongue-tied. He followed the man in black down the steps into the landscaped backyard. The long narrow space had been decorated with bushes and trees. A couple of wooden benches and a stone fountain completed the wall-enclosed area. Zorro ducked behind a broad tree not too far from the exterior wall. He set his bottle on the ground and leaned back on the tree, legs crossed at the ankle. Brian stood a couple feet in front of him.

“You still interested?” asked Zorro softly.

Brian was nervous. He wasn’t generally an instant gratification sort of guy. But, Christ, it had been a long time…Zorro held out a hand. Brian swallowed hard and stepped close. Long fingered hands settled lightly on his hips, tugging him closer. He had to separate his feet a little to avoid Zorro’s and that left him straddling the other man’s thighs.

There was a moment of awkward hesitation, and then Brian kissed him. An almost chaste brush of lips. That mouth, that soft full lower lip. Brian kissed him a little harder. Zorro’s breath hitched and he pulled Brian closer.

Brian was now leaning gently against the length of Zorro’s body, and he pushed his tongue into his partner’s open mouth. Zorro tasted of the beer and something vaguely spicy. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears and it was rapidly rushing toward his groin. Brian moaned softly against the other man’s mouth. He swiped his tongue along Zorro’s teeth, and that drew a low sound from his partner. One of Zorro’s hands was tangled in his hair, the other cupped his butt. That mouth was just so unbelievably delicious and, God, the guy could kiss, unlike so many men he’d known. Zorro was nipping gently at Brian’s lips, Brian’s own tongue exploring, plunging, tracing along Zorro’s teeth.

Brian could feel the hard length of his partner’s c**k grinding up against the base of his own. He was still slightly straddling the other man’s legs. He leaned into the embrace more, pushing his own erection harder against Zorro’s. It was a slow, torturous friction that went on and on as the kiss intensified. His hand crept downward, cupping the front of Zorro’s groin, stroking his palm firmly on the fabric that separated his hand from what lay beneath. Suddenly, there were voices approaching and both men froze.

“How ‘bout I f**k you up against the wall?” said a male voice.

“Thought you wanted to unlace my corset,” replied a female voice.

“That’s for later.”

There was much low giggling as the voices passed toward the far end of the garden.

“Guess we’re not the only ones looking for a place to make out like a couple of teenagers,” said Zorro. His voice was a husky whisper in Brian’s ear.

Much as his body was just dying to continue what they were doing, Brian was suddenly uncertain at the thought of getting caught. “Didn’t I see a tool shed in the corner near the deck?” asked the man in black.

“Are you suggesting we go into the closet, as opposed to coming out?” The question was just too irresistible.

Zorro groaned. “How ‘bout I suggest you stick something in your mouth and spare me the puns?”

“Your sword maybe?”

“I’ll give you a sword.”

“I can suggest a really good place for it.”

“Mmm, bet you can.” Zorro pulled Brian back into a heated kiss. “Now about that closet…” he mumbled against Brian’s lips.

“Might be locked.”

“If it is, we’ll have to come up with another plan.” He grabbed Brian by the arm and took off in the direction of the alleged tool shed.

Just as he’d said, there was a structure tucked in the corner of the backyard almost under the edge of the porch. Zorro pushed the door open and glanced inside. Shovels and rakes hung neatly on one wall and a variety of other garden tools were stacked below. The floor space however was empty where the door swung in. Zorro pulled him inside and leaned back against the door. It made a certain amount of sense. If he was leaning against it, it would make it difficult for someone outside to get the door open.

Brian swiftly returned to what he had been doing, rubbing the hard c**k trapped beneath the black fabric of Zorro’s slacks. In the near darkness, he pulled the belt buckle loose and then realized there was a second belt buckle, too.

“One’s for the sword belt,” whispered the masked man.

Oh, yeah, forgot about that, thought Brian. He slid the fly down and hooked a thumb in the elastic of the other man’s briefs. Zorro’s hard c**k bobbed free as Brian shoved the man’s underwear down around his thighs. Brian’s free hand stroked him and Zorro huffed out a moan of pleasure. Brian dropped to his knees and licked across the already slick tip. His partner bucked slightly into the sensation.

“Watch the fangs, okay?” muttered Zorro.

Brian snickered. He’d never sucked anyone off while wearing fangs before. First time for everything.

The guy tasted delicious. It would be nice to do this slow and really enjoy it, but this wasn’t really the right place for that sort of thing. Too chilly, for one. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked on the hard c**k, swirling his tongue around the tip. It only took a couple of minutes before his partner was coming with a harsh gasp. He stood up and leaned on Zorro’s chest, kissing the masked man.

“Jesus, that was amazing…Your turn.”

Brian was entranced by the low, husky tone. He let the other man push him back against the door. His own pants were pushed down over his hips and, in the chilly air, he could feel the firm grip of a warm hand wrapped around his hard, aching c**k. He hissed as the wet heat of a mouth took him in. This was going to be embarrassingly fast. That talented mouth was doing fabulous things and his head hit the door with a dull thunk as his partner deep-throated him. He came hard with a strangled groan. His legs were shaking as he hitched his pants back up and did the fly and belt with less-than-agile fingers.

“Good?” asked Zorro. His hands were tracing down Brian’s sides, beneath Brian’s jacket.

“Oh, yeah,” panted Brian.

Zorro leaned in for another kiss, pinning Brian hard against the door, then easing back to just letting his body-weight gently hold Brian immobile. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’m not usually the type to blow a guy the first time we meet. You intrigue me. The makeup, the bad puns, it’s…sexy and intelligent.”

“Did you just imply that you like me for my mind?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

There was a long silence. In the darkness, the sounds of the party in the house above were filtering down.

“No witty comeback?”

“Uh…No…I just kind of assumed it was a physical thing.”

“I like that part, too, but unless you’ve got a brain to go with a delicious body, I’m not interested.”

Brian was floored. This wasn’t ending quite like he’d thought it would.

“Maybe we should go back upstairs,” Zorro suggested. He opened the door and they stepped out in the half-light cast down over the edge of the porch.

“Um, you have my lipstick all over your mouth,” said Brian.

The other man rubbed his sleeve across his face. “Black on black shouldn’t show too much.” He smiled.

“Yeah, guess not,” replied Brian. “Might be lipstick other places, too…”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think anyone else is going to be seeing that part tonight. Oh, damn…” Zorro was suddenly fishing in his pocket. He pulled out a buzzing cell phone and glanced at the number. “s**t, s**t, s**t. Only night this week I’ve had off…Hey, what’s up?…Okay, how long ago?…Uh, okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He thumbed off the phone.

“Problem?” asked Brian.

“Work. I gotta go.”

“Can’t you tell them to take a hike? You’re busy, call back in the morning?”

“Nope. I’m a cop, and there’s a dead body waiting for me,” said Zorro.

Brian stood with his mouth hanging open as Zorro headed in the direction of the porch steps. The other man pulled off the head covering, and Brian saw dark brown hair, cut conservatively, a narrow straight nose, and a high forehead. He was gorgeous.

It wasn’t until Zorro had passed through the kitchen door that Brian realized he didn’t have a f*****g clue who the guy was. No name, no number, nothing. He bolted up the stairs only to have to fight his way through the still crowded kitchen. He squeezed past numerous people with hasty excuses. But by the time he reached the front door, there was no sign of Zorro.

He grabbed the arm of a lady skeleton. “Did you see a guy dressed like Zorro go out the door?” he demanded.

“Oh, I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention,” she said.

Brian went out on the front porch and scanned the street. There was no sign of him. Brian banged his fist on the porch column. Damn, he needed a way to find Zorro or at least find out who the guy was. Where was a glass slipper when you needed one? Or, for that matter, a fairy godmother?

Oh. Maybe, just maybe, Alicia fit the bill for that role. He went back inside to find her.

“Alicia, I need your help,” said Brian. “I need to know the name of a guy who came to the party tonight. He was dressed as Zorro.”

Alicia frowned at the request. “I’m not sure who you mean.”

“Fairly tall, sort of thin, dressed all in black. Oh, and he said he was a cop,” offered Brian.

Alicia’s husband Mike, who had been standing behind her facing in the other direction, turned around. “Bet you mean Tristan. I think he’s the only one here tonight that’s a cop. Well, homicide detective, actually.”

“Tristan Blake?” said Alicia.

“He left in a hurry. Said there was a dead body waiting for him,” Brian commented.

“Yeah, that sounds like Tristan,” said Mike.

“Do you know how I can get in touch with him? We…um…were talking about beer. I’d like to invite him to a beer-tasting over at Hops-n-Scotch,” said Brian. It was the first plausible thing that came to mind. It wasn’t like he wanted to admit to the other part of the night’s events.

“I’m sure I’ve got his email address somewhere. Probably on my computer. I don’t know if I have a phone number. We get together now and then for some pick-up hockey. Alicia, remind me to look up the address in the morning,” Mike said.

Brian heaved an internal sigh of relief. These days, an email address was almost as good as a glass slipper.