One from Column A, One from Column B (Kiss Me at Midnight) Read online

"I have a bottle of champagne in the fridge. It was a housewarming present that I bought myself and never got around to using. Seems like tonight is a good time to use it."

  "You're celebrating New Year's after all?"

  "I'm celebrating meeting you!"

  "I'm flattered! Well, since I don't have any champagne on ice—or at all—at my place, I accept your invitation. Do you live nearby?"

  "Practically around the corner. Montevideo Drive, the third house east of Mariposa Lane on the south side. You can follow me in your car, but in case you lose me, you'll know where to look for me."

  "Good. Now about this food …."

  "I've eaten all I can. You?"

  "Ditto. Let's get Charlie to bag it up for us." They both looked around for Charlie, who was discreetly standing in a far corner, observing the few diners, and quickly caught their signal.

  "You want dessert? No?"

  "No. No room. Thank you."

  "I put fortune cookie in bag with dinners. I be right back." Charlie efficiently cleared the plates from the table, returning quickly with a large brown paper bag in which were two Styrofoam containers and, Trent could see when he peered in, two fortune cookies.

  Taylor already was handing his credit card to Charlie. As Trent reached for his, Taylor pushed his hand away. "I've got it."

  "I'll get my half."

  "No, you won't."

  "Hey! You're providing the champagne. Seems to me that, if anything, I should be the one to pay for both our dinners."

  "Shut up," said Taylor affably, chuckling.

  Charlie had waited throughout this debate. Now, seeming to assume the matter was settled, Charlie took Taylor's credit card and sped toward the register. A few minutes later he was back with the charge slip for Taylor to sign.

  "Don't include the tip," Trent said. "At least let me get that." He reached for his wallet.

  "Okay. Thanks." Taylor signed the slip, took his copy and the card, and put them carefully away in his wallet. Then the two men walked briskly, eagerly, toward the door.

  "I'm right out front. I'm the silver Acura."

  "I'm in the back lot. A little blue convertible."

  "I'll wait for you to pull out. Follow me. You remember where I said I live in case you lose me?"

  "Yup. Got it." Trent tapped the side of his head with his forefinger.

  As he walked out the door, Trent pulled out his cell phone to check the time and saw it was already "8:40." This was turning into a very different New Year's Eve than he had anticipated. Not so bad after all.

  "Welcome to my abode," Taylor said with an exaggerated flourish as the pair walked in the door together a few minutes later. "Shall we crack open the champagne now or save it till midnight?"

  "Well … I'm pretty full right now. I don't think I have room for even champagne. If we don't save it for midnight, let's at least save it for a little later, if that's okay with you. It's your champagne, after all."

  "You're the guest."

  "Your guest is carrying the leftovers. Care to point me in the direction of your fridge?"

  "I can put those away." Taylor relieved Trent of the brown bag and went back into the hallway, urging Trent"" to make himself comfortable. A minute later he returned. "Well, what can I get you?"

  "The pleasure of your company. Sit down."

  "How about some music? What's your taste?"

  "What have you got?"

  "A little of a lot of things."

  Trent noticed a bookcase-type piece of furniture whose four big shelves were all laden with CDs. "Got any soft jazz?"

  "One mellow jazz album coming right up. Grover Washington, Jr. all right?"

  "I don't know him. Let's try it. I take it you like his stuff?"

  "I hope you will, too." Taylor put the CD on, turned down the volume to an unobtrusive level, then came over and sat down right next to Trent, who was at one end of the sofa. He was close enough that Trent was sure he could feel body heat emanating from Taylor.

  "I'm glad I met you. I don't need a fortune cookie to tell me it was good fortune that I chose to eat at Dragon Pagoda tonight." Taylor let a hand rest easily on Trent's thigh, just above his knee. Trent could feel the warmth of Taylor's hand spreading all throughout his leg.

  "Me too. I was going to just stay home and have an evening like any other. When I opened the fridge and the freezer, though, I couldn't find anything that appealed to me for dinner. The Chinese restaurant was a last-minute, spur-of-the-moment decision. I guess I got one from Column A, a good dinner, and one from Column B, a new friend."

  "Friend?" Taylor sounded disappointed. "I was hoping we were going to be more than just friends."

  "I'd like that," said Trent, smiling. Then Taylor moved in for a kiss, his lips meeting Trent's lips and one hand gripping Trent's arm just below the shoulder. At first it was a closed-mouth kiss, but then gradually Taylor's lips parted, and Trent felt Taylor's tongue protruding outward and seeking admission into Trent's mouth. Opening his mouth, Trent eagerly sucked in the questing tongue. At that, Taylor's lips pressed against Trent's with mounting fervor. The kiss became almost bruising in its ferocity.

  While Trent's response included the predictable swelling of his dick, it was not a purely physical thing. His emotions raced to the fore as well. He liked Taylor. He had been enjoying his company ever since meeting him in the restaurant, enjoying his lively personality, his warmth, his intelligence, his sense of humor.

  Too, his heart reached out with empathy toward this stranger in a strange town, haunted by the loss of a past love and by the guilt, however unreasonable, that he felt over it. Trent wanted to put his arms around Taylor and comfort him, hold him, welcome him, make him feel warm and wanted.

  Still, he forbore to embrace him now. He didn't want Taylor to think he was simply coming from a place of lust. Yes, he desired Taylor, but the feelings that were already beginning to grow inside him toward this man were so much more than just physical desire.

  So when, inescapably, the pair broke the kiss to take a breath, Trent sat back, away from Taylor, though he beamed a large smile at him so Taylor shouldn't think he was rejecting him. "That was nice," he added. "We'll have to do more of that."

  "Soon," Taylor agreed. "What would you like to do in the meanwhile?" I have a ping-pong table in my basement. Does that interest you?"

  "I haven't played in years. You'll beat the hell outta me, but it sounds like fun. Let's try."

  "Let's go."

  They rose from the couch with alacrity and hurried downstairs to the "game room," where Taylor had not only a ping pong table but a dart board and a 1950s-era Nok Hockey game that he said he'd bought at a yard sale.

  "Totally cool!" Trent marveled. "Can we try that first?"

  They played a couple of games of Nok Hockey, then switched over to ping-pong. Far from being an intensive, win-at-all-costs competitor, Taylor proved to be a total goof when it came to playing competitive games. He clowned around, laughed when Trent got the best of him, and when he ultimately beat Trent—which he did at both games, every time—he stuck his thumbs in his ears, flapping his fingers at Trent and sticking his tongue out simultaneously.

  "Nyaah nyaah nyaah!" he crowed, a large grin spreading across his face. The first time he did it, Trent doubled over with laughter. The subsequent times, Trent merely grinned and chuckled. Taylor was funny. Taylor was fun.

  When they' played what they'd mutually agreed would be the final ping-pong game of the night, Taylor said, "I think I earned a prize. A forfeit. In fact, one for each game I won."

  "What do you want?" Trent asked.

  "A kiss. A kiss for each game I won. Two games of Nok Hockey and three games of ping pong. That's five kisses. Pay up. But let's go back up to the living room. And I'm ready for that champagne now. How about you?"

  "Yes. I think my dinner has settled enough that I can have a bit of the bubbly without bursting," Trent agreed.

  They went upstairs, and Taylor took the bottle out of the fri
dge and popped the cork. Then he took two glasses out of a cabinet and poured each half-full, re-corking the bottle. "Cheers," he said.

  "Cheers," Trent echoed. "To your happiness here in Maplevale."

  "Which I'm sure you'll contribute a great deal to," Taylor said. "And to your happiness as well."

  "Which I hope and believe you'll contribute a great deal to."

  Taylor flashed Trent a thumbs-up. Then they each took a drink of the champagne.

  "I've had better," said Taylor.

  "I've had worse," replied Trent.

  "What time is it getting to be?" Taylor asked, checking his watch as he asked. Trent checked his cell phone for the time.

  "Almost midnight," they both said.

  "Let's go inside," Taylor suggested.

  "How about a nibble of the leftovers first?"'

  Taylor looked for guidance. "Cold Chinese? Or do we heat it up first?"

  "Cold is fine. Straight out of the box. Fewer dishes to wash. That makes it taste better."

  "I hear you." Taylor laughed as he said it. He opened a drawer, pulled out two forks, opened the fridge, pulled out the brown bag of leftovers, opened the bag, took out the two styrofoam containers, and discovered the fortune cookies at the bottom. "We forgot our fortunes. Don't forget you still owe me five kisses, too … but since it's so close to midnight, I think I'll wait till the ball drops to collect. C'mon. Let's take our food into the living room, turn on the TV, watch the festivities, and have our champagne."

  They proceeded into the living room, forks, food, glasses, and fortune cookies in hand. It was quite the feat, carrying all that, but they managed without either of them dropping or spilling anything. Sitting on the couch, they started in on the leftovers while Taylor reached for the remote and turned on the countdown.

  "I swear this stuff's even better cold than it was originally," Trent said. "Want a taste?"

  "Sure. And you can taste mine."

  They fed each other a bite of cold leftovers and washed them down with champagne. Then they went back to eating their own dinners. Both finished off their leftovers totally.

  "Let me check my fortune cookie," Taylor said.

  "Me too," echoed Trent. "I don't have room for the cookie, but I want to read my fortune."

  Taylor got his opened first. "'Happier days are ahead for you.'"" I hope so."

  "I'll see to it that that's true," Trent boldly proclaimed.

  "What's yours?"

  Trent read slowly, "'Love the one you're with.'"

  "Good advice," Taylor said. "Think you can make it happen?"

  "I think we're off to a good start."

  They each took a sip of champagne. On the TV, the countdown began. When the count got to "One," Taylor said, "Now, about those kisses …."

  He drew each one out. Each kiss got progressively warmer, then hotter, fierier and more passionate. The fifth kiss was searing. Taylor tumbled backward onto the couch, pulling Trent down on top of him. Trent, now that he was sure Taylor understood that his growing feelings for Taylor were more than just raw lust, didn't hold back.

  Trent never made it home that night.

  His New Year's jinx had finally been broken, and his new year was off to a very happy and promising start indeed.

  About the Author

  No stranger to male/male stories, Diana Sheridan edited gay male sexzines for the better part of two decades under the nom de plume of “Dan Maxwell.” Though “Diana Sheridan” isn’t her true name either, it does reflect her true gender. In her own name, she has had numerous books published both in print and as e-books, is an accomplished editor of both books and magazines, and is comfortable switching gears to go from serious nonfiction to erotica in her work. Diana lives with her Significant Other, who is fully aware of and supportive of the many facets of her career.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Book Details

  One from Column A, One from Column B

  About the Author