Chapter Five

The street lamps outside the club were splaying in the cold air and it had begun to snow. I was intoxicated and breathless as they pulled me into the back of a cab. Normally, I was always thrilled at the first sight of snow, especially at night. Now, all I could think about was how uncomfortable I felt with all these clothes on.

"Whose place?" asked Jean.

"Mine, I think," responded Sebastian. He gave the driver an address over on the east side of town.

We sat in silence in the taxi holding hands. I could hear my own breathing and made a conscious effort to slow it down. When I did, I could hear Jean on one side and Sebastian on the other. We all sounded like had run a marathon. It had nothing to do with being out of breath - and everything to do with being horny. The feeling was so powerful it was actually scaring me - if felt way, way out of control.

"I feel kind of funny," I offered. Kind of 'funny' - so amazingly descriptive.

Jean reached up and put a palm to my forehead. I shook it away. "Not sick... just funny."

"What kind of funny?" asked Sebastian with an amused smile. I thought it was amused - the car was dark. "Funny ha-ha or funny weird?"

"Funny weird. I feel like I'm... out of control."
"Me too," murmured Jean.

"I'm always out of control," mused Sebastian. "This is completely different." I felt him give my hand a sharp squeeze.

I shifted a little on the seat. I was wet and uncomfortable. "Am I right in thinking that none of us has a clue what we're doing?"

"Definitely," said Jean. He turned sideways to look at me. "I'm completely out of my depth here."

"You two - what pair of drama queens! I know what I'm doing. I'm having my cake and eating it too." Sebastian pecked me on the cheek and then reached over and kissed Jean. "The problem with you both is that you analyze things too much. This is good, it feels good, we're happy - what's the dilemma here?"

I'd never been to Sebastian's place. It was a huge old Victorian house. When we piled out of the cab the snow had started to settle on the ground, dusting everything in glittering crystal.

"Wow, Sebastian! How did you afford this?" I asked looking up at the beautifully restored building. "What do you actually do for a living?"

Jean snickered. "It's his dirty little secret. Shall I tell her?"

"Oh, by all means, be my guest. She'll lose all respect for me - but what's that worth anyway?"

Jean linked his arm through mine and squeezed it. "Our Sebastian here is the product of stinking rich parents. He didn't earn it - he inherited."

Sebastian unlocked the front door, walked in and held it for us, smiling. "I don't do anything. I'm a spoilt rich brat."

"That's it!" I said in mock-disgust. "I can't associate myself with the likes of you! It offends my deeply held socialist values."
Sebastian grabbed my arm and pulled me through the threshold. "Values? How disgusting. We're going to have to do something about that," he said archly.

The house was huge and all wood-paneling. I got the sneaking suspicion that Sebastian didn't do his own housecleaning. I couldn't imagine anyone being able to take care of this on their own. I walked through the dimly lit main hall and poked my head around into what looked like the living room. It was enormous. "So who lives here, your parents?"

"No - just me."

"Come on will you?" Jean looked over the banister from half-way up the stairs.

Sebastian looked up at him. "Don't you think I ought to be a good host and at least offer drinks or something?"

"Yes, by all means. Grab a bottle and bring it up," Jean said with authority. "Shira, follow me."

I grinned at Sebastian and ran up the staircase after Jean. He stood there, holding out his hand and I took in and let him lead me up the stairs. On the landing, he took a right. It occurred to me that he'd been here often and felt fairly at home. But the big house made me feel like I was about to run into someone disapproving at any moment. He opened a door and pulled me through it.

You could have hit me with a hammer. The room was so completely different to the rest of the house I just stood there gaping. It was all black - no really - all back. Black walls, black carpet, black bed, black bookcase. The only colours in the room were on the spines of the books.

"I just have to get through the rest of this mausoleum as fast as I can. Way to much brown," said Jean dramatically. He undid his coat and threw it onto a couch by the window - black, of course.

I took mine off and draped it on top of his, still reeling a little from the shock of the room. The bed was enormous and made of wrought iron. It was quite high actually, and the only think in the room that even came close to matching the style of the house, with little round finials at the top of each post. They were also black, but I suspected they'd once been brass.
Jean walked over to me and started pulling off my clothes, dotting my face with little kisses. Something was different with him. I started in on his shirt buttons and looked at him questioningly.

"What's gotten into you Mister Jean?" I asked gently. He was fumbling with the press stud at the waistband on my jeans.

"I don't know, why?" He didn't look at me. He was tugging at it and making no headway at all. "Fuck, how do you undo that?"

"Um... it's a snap?" I replied. Now I was a little concerned. I put my arms around him and pulled him to me, trying to catch his eye. He was trying to look at anything but me. I clutched a handful of hair and pulled his head to that he had to look at me. Anyway, I think the aggression got his attention. "Hey... what's wrong, Jean?"

Something changed in his eyes and my heart welled up. He was on the verge of tears. "Oh, Christ, Jean. Please... what's up? You're scaring me."

"When you think of me, how do you think of me? As a man?" A large tear slipped through his mascara's lashes and rolled down his pale cheek. "Do you think of me a man at all?"

My mind was racing. I knew what my answer was - but I didn't know if it was what he wanted to hear or not. I had no idea what he wanted to be. It simply never occurred to me that Jean had had a moment's doubt about who he was - until this moment. The wave of guilt that washed over me was almost nauseating. I had caused this. He wouldn't even be asking this stupid question if it wasn't for me. And I had no idea what to do but I knew I did owe him honesty at least.

"When I think of you," I said, kissing his cheek, "I just think of you. I don't think much about classifications. I don't want to classify you."

I was never happier to see anyone in my life than when Sebastian walked in the room. I looked at him over Jean's shoulder, not wanting to let him go, and said, "We so need what's in that bottle right now."

"What's wrong?" For all Sebastian's supposed 'out of controlness', he was a pretty sensitive soul.
"We're having a little identity crisis. I think it's my fault," I said softly. "I think maybe I should go."

Sebastian walked over to where we were standing and wrapped his arms around both of us. "I think not," he said. "I don't think you solve anything by avoiding it. I think it's time for all good children to be in bed."

Sensible and well said as it sounded. Still I suddenly felt like I was the knife that had cut out my friend's confidence. All my reservations about getting into this - I didn't know what to call it - came flooding back to me. Not for the reasons I had imagined. I had thought it would be me who would be hurt by this. It simply hadn't occurred to me that Jean hadn't really thought it out either. Just because you want something, doesn't mean that it's good for you. So feeling a little sensitive about being so obviously female in the midst of this gender crisis, I begged and got a rather nice black silk robe off Sebastian with the excuse that I was cold.

We all climbed into bed and just sat there in silence passing the bottle back and forth, with Jean tucked in the middle. Finally, he sniffed, looked me in the eye and said, "You didn't give me a proper answer. I need one."

"Well I hope to god it's the one you want to hear."

"I would appreciate the truth, please."

I glanced over at Sebastian who was looking at me also; he just smiled. How totally unhelpful.

"Okay. The truth... The truth is that I think of you as a man. I certainly think of you as male - absolutely male. Never once has it crossed my mind that you were anything but." I watched his face, trying to gauge his reaction, but there was nothing I knew how to read there - except for this person, this man I adored. "But I did, until very recently, think of you as gay. One hundred percent gay. And I can tell you, it's not so easy to know the person you're in love with can't really love you back - except in that friendly sort of way."

Under the covers, Jean's hand scrabbled around searching out mine and clasped it tight. I smiled at him and squeezed. "Now... I don't know. But... I wish you wouldn't care so much about it. I don't. And I'd be very happy to going back to just being friends, if it would make you feel less worried about it."

"Can I interrupt here and ask what the hell set this off anyway?" asked Sebastian passing me the vodka. I took it, but didn't drink any more. It seemed sensible to keep my wits about me in the middle of this situation. I didn't want to blurt out anything stupid by mistake. I passed the bottle on to Jean, who did have a good swig.

"I think it was probably some of the things that got said at the club," I suggested.

Sebastian shifted onto his side and put his arm over Jean's chest. "Was it?" he asked him.

Jean nodded. "Yeah - fuck they were vicious."

I shook my head in frustration. "But why did you want to tell everyone? You know how nasty they can be! What were you looking for, approval?"

Sebastian and I were both staring at Jean; Jean was doing the tennis spectator thing. "No... not really."

"Aha - you were, you were!" shouted Sebastian, grabbing Jean by the middle and pushing him over onto his stomach. Sebastian settled his larger body on top of Jean's and captured his wrists. He put his lips to Jean's ear. "Oh, Jean Genie... loves to be loved...don't you my angel?" Sebastian's ass was moving as he ground his hips against Jean.

I rolled onto my side to watch them. Jean was trying so damn hard to keep a smile of his face - it was delectable. Sebastian kissed his shoulder and nipped him with his teeth. Jean yelped and giggled.

"Aren't we enough for you, you silly slut? You need to have the whole club adoring you? What a fickle, heartless boy you are." All this was being delivered as Sebastian ground himself into Jean mercilessly. "Such a bad boy, such a faithless little whore. Fuck, you make me so hot."

The diatribe kind of shocked me, but Jean had given up trying to hide his delight and was grinning ecstatically. His lips curled upwards lasciviously.

I lay beside them, snuggled under the quilt, feeling cozy and so relieved that whatever had upset Jean so much, Sebastian could make it all go away just by talking dirty to him. It stung a little to realize that it was probably nothing I said that had helped. No matter how much I cared for Jean, I wasn't the one who could make everything right for him. But I was grateful to know that Sebastian could. I watched them kiss and wriggle against each other like puppies and drifted off to sleep.

- - -

I'm not sure when it was that I woke up - it was pitch dark in the room and I was a little unsure of where I was at first.

"Shira?" It was Jean, an inch or so from my face. I couldn't see him, but I could feel his breath on my face.

I stretched and put an arm around him. "Hello. I'm sorry I fell asleep. Did I miss anything?" He snuggled against me, intertwining his legs with mine. He was quite astonishingly erect. "Oh...how very nice." I giggled.

"I wasn't sure whether it was okay to wake you up. I've been lying here for a while, wondering if it would be okay."

"It's absolutely okay," I murmured, stroking his back lazily.

He pressed his lips against mine so softly and held them there, inhaling. Slowly, so slowly, he began to kiss. Tiny little presses, growing firmer. It was the sweetest kind of kiss I'd ever had. I felt the wet heat of his tongue flick out and draw a line along my closed mouth. It made me smile and press him closer. I parted my lips and caught his tongue with them, sucking it in. His heart was racing, I could feel it against my chest and I was unsure if it was fear or what, but the hard cock pressing up against my lower stomach wasn't timid at all.

It occurred to me that this was like being with a virgin. And having not ever been with one, I wasn't exactly sure of the protocol. I decided the best thing would be to just let him do whatever he felt like doing, making sure he knew I was open to suggestions without being aggressive about it. That all sounded like good sensible thinking. It was a lot harder to keep to the plan.

For a start, I was becoming seriously wet, and getting it all over his thigh. Then, when he started to stroke and pinch my nipple, I did arch my back and bite at his lower lip rather savagely. It was hard not to push him over and climb on top of him with all that lust surging through my body. But all in all, I tried my best to behave myself.

"You're wet."

"Um... I certainly am, yes."

"Does that mean it's working."

I laughed softly. "Oh, it's absolutely working. Can't you tell?"

He slid his hand between our bodies and made his way, very politely, down to my cunt. "I thought so, but it seemed sensible to ask." Pushing his fingers into my cleft, he was doing exactly what Sebastian had taught him to do and very, very deftly.

"Oh, that's extremely nice," I panted. "Can I reciprocate?"

"Yes... why are you even asking?"

I started to shrug but it turned into a shudder. I found his cock, wet and throbbing, and curled my fingers around it. I giggled and began to stroke him gently. "I thought it was sensible to ask, too." Suddenly, an idea came to me through the mist of all the stimulation. "Jean, are you like this with your male lovers?"

"No, not really. Why?"

I was moving my hips now; I really couldn't help myself. "Well, why are you being so careful with me?"

"You're a girl. Ah... I don't know... you seem more...delicate. Oh, Shira... slower or I'm going to come."

"Well, we're not that delicate - I promise. Anyway, why don't you want to come?"

"I do. Just not like this. Can we fuck?"

"Oh, yes - please," I moaned.

Jean kissed me so hard, I thought I'd cut a lip. "Thanks." He pulled his hand from between my legs and reached behind him on the bed.

"Don't thank me," I whispered. "I've wanted to fuck you for ages and ages."

Ages and ages and ages. It suddenly struck me that Sebastian might be asleep now, but he was definitely going to wake up once we started. It made me wonder if that was half the issue with Jean suddenly worrying about what I thought his gender was. Could it really be that stupidly simple - all about comparisons?

"How would you like to do it?" Jean whispered.

The question made me laugh and kiss him again. "Well, would you feel more comfortable doing it... you know... like you would with a boy?"

"No... I want to kiss you while we fuck."

It was the sweetest most direct answer... it almost made me cry. I put my arms around him and pulled him on top of me. He was so just the right weight, just the perfect size - everything lined up so magically. When he pushed into me, I moaned. God, he felt so good.

"Oh... Shira" he whimpered, "... muscles all the way up." He began to fuck me, really, really slow.

"Mmm, not quite as tight though - and a lot more slippery."

He was panting now, little sweet gasps with every thrust. "It's very.... Oh, fuck... it's very nice."

That's about when I knew he actually meant it - he wasn't just suffering through it politely - and I sort of felt free to actually let go and fuck him properly.
It was so unbelievably slow and intense; I was arching my hips up to him and feeling him undulate on me. The way he moved just hit me in all the right places. Then he rolled over and pulled me on top of him. I wanted to ride him, but I couldn't bear to not have the contact with his skin, or his kisses.

"Fuck, this is nice. I... I never thought it would feel this nice, you?" he whimpered.

"Mm... well, I'm ... oh god, I can't talk and do this."

Somewhere, I guess about three or four minutes into it, Sebastian woke up and made his presence known by covering everyone in kisses while we fucked, and masturbating. I could hear the wetness around his cock as he stroked it, so could Jean, and it did something to both of us. I started to come, very fast, very hard.

"Oh, wow ...Shira" Jean moaned, "You're coming. I can feel it, Christ." Jean grabbed my hips and began thrusting upwards, hard.

"Yes... I am..." I choked out. It's all I could manage.

I felt Jean start to quiver beneath me. It started like delicate little twitches and then he cried out and shuddered violently. I kissed him and moved my hips slowly, even after he'd stopped thrusting. Each thrust of my hips forced a little mew from him, until he stopped shaking and we lay there panting.

I rolled off him, mindful of post-coital weirdness, and kissed him on the cheek. "Oh... are you okay?"

"What kind of ridiculous question is that?" he giggled, rolling on top of me. "Of course I'm okay. I'm wonderful. I'm ecstatic." Then he paused a moment and said, "Was I terrible for...you know... for you?"

I burst out laughing into the darkness. "Oh, did it seem like you were terrible? I was having such an awful time... couldn't you tell?" I kissed him and messed up his hair. "It was lovely, perfectly lovely."

That was then that I realized I couldn't hear any slurpy wet noises. "Sebastian?"

"Yes."

"Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay. What is this - group therapy?" I felt him slide up next to me. He kissed my nose. I suspect he was aiming for something else, but it's hard to hunt and peck in the dark. Then I heard him kiss Jean. "I think congratulations are in order."

I giggled, Sebastian giggled, Jean smacked him somewhere and then giggled.

"Did you get off?" asked Jean, ever the pragmatist, ever the concerned host.

"Yes, thank you for asking."