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Finally, he moves forward, and my puckered lips get what they desire. But it isn't the kiss I remember. This lacks the passion of the dance studio kiss.
His kiss is weak and lack lustre. Like he just realised he offered me all my dreams if I leave him. But I wouldn't expect him to pay for my living if I don't pick him, so I wouldn't be able to accept. If I choose to live without him, it would be a life of my own making. No dance studio, no apartment, and no rehab for mum. There would also be no sticking my finger up at Vince and his job. That might be one thing I couldn't live without. But what happens when he finds someone better and the perfect dream deteriorates. This is all too much; I need to stop thinking all together and let it simmer. Time to race.
“Come on, let's see if those twenty lengths are good enough for this mermaid.” I pull away, kicking water playfully at him while praying he'll drag me under and make me suck his cock.
I'm not sure how that would work, but I'm sure underwater blowjobs are possible. The idea of it is so distracting, Knox has glided past me before I realise we're racing. Or swimming. I don't know what he is doing, but I'm racing. Or trying to. Knox has achieved a trunk losing turn at the end and is heading back towards me, still wearing the trunks, unfortunately.
Maybe if I let him win, he'll stop moping about shooting himself in the foot with that ludicrous idea and get back to giving me a real reason to be naked in the pool.
thirty-six
Knox
Swimmingdidn'tprogressbeyondkissing and it's all my fault. I said some stupid things in the water. We raced and no matter how slow I went; he wouldn't go past me. I appreciate his effort in letting me win, but the very fact he let me, left a bitter taste in my mouth. The chatter during the shower was an improvement, never changing from livestock.
We walk down to dinner, dressed entirely more presentable than last night. My intention is to show him I offer more than simply great sex. He would have a great life with me too. And that includes a candlelit meal, with table service.
“I've never dressed up for dinner at home before.” Porter takes my offered hand at the bottom of the stairs, and I escort him to the table.
“Not even on special occasions?” I try to picture Christmas at his house and cringe at the image being the same as it was, with a half dead tree in the corner. Why I imagined a half dead tree is beyond me. No one sells half dead trees, and I don't even think he could kill it that quickly.
“We don't have special occasions, or if we do, we get takeaway.”
“Tonight is a special occasion. I have a very nice young man to impress.”
“The young man is already impressed,” Porter replies.
I tuck him in and then take my seat opposite. It's not just me who is desperate to see this work out, Gladys has gone all out with the dinner. Homemade vegetable soup, with fresh bread. It is delicious and plentiful, despite having another two courses to follow.
I can see the thoughts conflicting in Porter's mind. I can see his appetite suffering under the weight of his decisions. I've ruined everything by trying too hard. I wanted to show him how well I could take care of him, and I pushed too hard. He would never have chosen to go home to that shithole, and then I went and rammed a third option down his throat. I offered him a nice life, respectable job, own home, perfect career, and all the money he could need. I offered him a life without me.
“How is the food?” I break the silence.
“It's good. I'm sorry, it's been a long day.”
“No. It's my fault, and I'm sorry. I got carried away trying to show you I could look after you and still give you everything you've ever wanted.”
“My own studio is everything I've ever wanted,” Porter nods.
“I should have said I'd give you a studio if you stayed, but I didn't want it to be blackmail. I don't take back what I said. I don't want you to stay with me for any other reason than your desire to stay with me. At first I thought great sex would convince you. Then I thought showing you a life of luxury would make you decide to stay. Then I stupidly offered you a life without me.”
“You are offering me so much, and I thank you for all the things you've promised. But if I don't choose you, then I won't hold you to anything.” Porter's hand reaches out and covers mine.
Does this mean my swimming pool rant showed him how much I care? Does this rant now show him I can be open about things?
I hate this limbo of not knowing. I could offer him the world, but I know what he really wants. I'm just not sure I can give him that. Tiffany's release would send a message to the entire underground world, both my side and anyone opposed to me. It would tell them I was weak. It would tell them people who steal from me get away with it if they are pretty. It would devalue everything I've worked for over the weekend. But letting Tiffany go is the only way I can hope to keep Porter.
The whole evening is off, with the conversation strained between us. Porter is lost in his thoughts, but it can't be that bad if he's deciding between the two options I made up. If he chooses the dance studio and flat, I can still woo him back. If he chooses to walk away back to the house and job he had before and refuse everything I've offered, then I have a difficult decision of my own. If he doesn't want me after showing him everything, I have no hope of winning him around. Dinner is a wonderful roast lamb, with all the trimmings, with baked Alaska for pudding. Honestly, if the dessert doesn't convince him, I should give up now.
“What do you want to do now?” I ask as the table is cleared away.
“I want to go to bed,” Porter announces. “Alone in a guest room.”
“You want…?” My protests fall silent. I have to give him what he wants. He needs to know he can have space if he needs it.
“I need to know I'll miss you if I go,” Porter explains.
I don't understand. I don't want to understand. But I have to live with his decision.
