But he definitely hadn’t been the other day. We were both sober as hell, yet the sex was… even better.
Good enough that I hadn’t been able to stop replaying it on a loop in my mind ever since. For fuck’s sake.
I made my way to the back office, pulling out my phone and seeing that there were no new messages. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to message Liam, even though I’d thought about it every day. But right now, I was nervous for the TV producers to show up in an hour, and I desperately craved some form of comfort.
The idea of Liam was comforting again, instead of chaotic.
>>Red: Hey, stranger.
I sent the text and then immediately set to work stocking the bar with all the liquor we needed to fill out the shelves up front. When I looked at my phone again a half hour later, I got a thrill seeing his name on the screen.
>>Liam: Stranger, huh?
>>Red: I hope not. How are you doing?
>>Liam: I think all of my body parts are going to fall off.
>>Red: … Should I be worried?
>>Liam: Lol. I’ve just been gardening like a mad man the last few days. She’s looking beautiful.
He sent a photo of the garden, which had doubled in size. There were flowers of all colors, a couple bushes, and even a small tree, now.
>>Red: You’re incredible with that garden. And I hope not *all* of your body parts are going to fall off…
>>Liam: I know. You’d really miss my big toe.
>>Red: So much.
“Hey, boss, do we think blue lights or pink lights behind the bar tonight?” Sam said, peeking his head into my office.
I jumped a little as he entered the doorway, setting my phone face down on my desk. “Uh, go with the pink, I guess,” I said.
“Do you think pink will look good with my complexion, though? I have been a little rosy, lately—”
“Up to you, Sam,” I said, just wanting him to disappear again so I could message Liam. “I promise I’ll come back up and help with the finishing touches in a minute.”
Sam grinned at me like he knew I had some dirty secret, but he finally turned and left.
>>Liam: I’m glad to hear you’d miss even my smallest body parts.
>>Red: Of course. I must say, I was thinking more along the lines of missing your tongue, though.
A slow heat passed through me just sending the message. I had made myself come every night the past three nights thinking about how Liam’s mouth had felt on me.
>>Liam: I would miss yours, too.
>>Red: Fuck. I loved having my tongue on you again, Liam.
>>Liam: I’m so sorry again about the misunderstanding. I should have been filming.
>>Red: Well, I’ll do it again for you. On camera this time.
>>Liam: I’m supposed to be behind the camera nowadays, not in front of it.
>>Red: Fair enough. The blow job was great, though, right?
>>Liam: It was all right.
I snorted a laugh before his next text came in.
>>Liam: Joking, joking, of course Um, it was the best fucking thing I’ve felt in years.
“We have thirty minutes left!” I heard Sam shout from the front. I knew I had to get my head out of the clouds, and now, I had to get my very hard cock to behave and go down again.
I hadn’t intended to talk about anything remotely sexual with Liam, but I couldn’t stop myself.
>>Red: Producers are coming in. I’ll talk to you later.
At the last minute, I opened my phone camera and took a picture of the very obvious erection outlined through my jeans. I sent it to Liam, along with a final message.
>>Red: And this… this is all your fault.
“This place is unlike anything I’ve seen in rural Kansas,” one of the TV producers, Mark, said as he looked around Red’s Tavern. He’d arrived twenty minutes ago, and we’d slowly been giving him the grand tour. Mark was clean-cut, blond, and looked at everything with a sharp eye.
“We have monthly movie nights where anyone is welcome to come in. We set up a big projector over by the couches and people pile in.”
“That sounds fun,” Mark said, nodding. “And you would say you have a steady clientele? Mostly gay men, right?”
“We didn’t officially start as a gay bar,” I said, “but we are a safe haven for everyone who wants to come through our doors. Gay men and all kinds of LGBT people can feel safe and free here.”
“That’s a beautiful thing,” the other producer, Natalie, said. She was nothing like Mark—she looked like a classic librarian, with big dark-rimmed glasses and her red hair up in a bun. Instead of scrutinizing the bar, she’d just seemed quietly fascinated by it. I wanted to impress her in the same way I used to want to impress my teachers back in school.