(
Note to readers:
Everyone in this story who engages in sex acts is at least 18 years old. Please be aware that those acts include male-male oral and male-male anal, so you may not want to read if that's a problem for you. The story can be thought of as happening after COVID-19 is conquered.)
Frank was one of those men who knew enough to get a pre-nuptial agreement, so the divorce didn't kneecap him. There were plenty like him, crafty and successful. At a certain age, they stopped going to the loud bars and found places that catered to them, and to the women who were receptive to them. That certain age started with either a four, or a three that would soon be replaced.
It was a Thursday. Frank had spent the morning taking vague verbal orders from top managers around whom he hovered, and the afternoon sending detailed electronic orders to underlings he rarely had to meet in person. Then there was a long networking dinner at a steakhouse. When he got to the bar, he was up for whatever might happen, including nothing. A quick scan showed him a few ladies who might be worth pursuing, but also a friend alone at a table. Might as well start with him.
Frank leaned over, hand extended, and said, "Todd! What's up, my man?" Todd seemed to be staring off, dazed—then he jerked alert. Taking the hand with reflexive gusto, he said "Hey Frank, take a load off." To the extent that the men might address each other as Dude or Bro, they didn't do it here. That wouldn't match up with wearing tailored wool suits, taking ease in studded leather chairs, and sipping single malt from the top shelf, in a room paneled with dark wood from some continent they'd never visited.
As he sat, Frank recalled his first glimpse of Todd. Frank wasn't sure he could describe the look, or associate it with a specific mood. Eyebrows converged a bit. Mouth narrowed. Shoulders tightened. Definitely not the look of a master of the universe. Todd must have been aware of it, because now he said he was really wrung out, and blamed clueless losers who shouldn't be on corporate rungs above his.
They conversed for a few minutes on work, liquor, sports, and women. Frank would not have used the word 'comforting' for this, but it was helping get rid of the day's stress. He decided that he could end the night without a sexual conquest, and not damage his self-respect.
Then, in mid-sentence, Todd froze, staring past Frank. The look from before returned to Todd's face, only now it was worse.
Frank cleared his throat, and when that didn't get through, said, "Yeah, you were saying?"
Todd blinked, looked at Frank, and after a moment recognized him. "Sorry man. Like I said, work today."
"I hear you," said Frank, hoping Todd wouldn't elaborate. He got his wish, because Todd focused on his drink.
After swallowing, Todd looked down. "Damn. Can't get past it."
"Past what?"
Todd angled his head in the direction he had stared. "A couple just walked in. I, uh, know something about them."
Frank turned partway to look. Settling in at a table were a blonde in a dark green dress, and a guy in a gray suit. They had the looks and the clothes to fit in here.
"Reeeaallly nice," said Frank, "But taken, apparently." He chortled. "Been a tough day, I don't think I want to find out if that guy's badass look is for real." Frank was surprised to find himself studying the woman more closely. Even in the diffuse, indirect lighting, she seemed to be something special. The golden hair had dark honeyed depths. The calves were slender, nicely curved at the tops. The swan-like neck rose to a smoothly defined jaw.
She turned her face towards Frank, and smiled.
Frank almost jolted in his seat. The blue eyes, the high cheekbones, and how the hell could he make out this much detail in this lighting?
Frank returned to Todd, and tried to change the subject, to pro golfers they both followed.
"Gotta tell you something," Todd muttered. "Turn off your phone."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Frank made a show of lifting the phone from a breast pocket, pressing the edge that made the screen go dark, then letting it slide back into place. "Happy now?"
"You like her, don't you?" asked Todd, apparently trying to keep Frank between him and them. "You'd do her in a heartbeat?"
"Sure," Frank said with a shrug, although his body wasn't nonchalant. The notion of her being available, despite the guy she was with, started some rash thoughts.
"She's even better than you think."
"Oh, you've done her?" Frank said with a chuckle. "Bullshit. If you had, you wouldn't be acting like this."
Todd showed a tiny smirk. "I was going to tell you something you need to hear. 'Cause I'm your friend. Are you my friend?"
There was something way wrong here. Was Todd catfishing? Frank knew Todd could put on an act, just like Frank, it's part of what got them where they were, at work and in the bedroom. But that act never looked like...weakness. "What the hell is this, Todd?"
Todd leaned closer, and his smile seemed hostile. "I might enjoy watching you make the same mistake. Seeing what happens to you after. What fucking her does to you. Yeah, if you make a move, she'll say yes. But I can do you a solid and talk you out of it. A friend, though, won't let what I say go any further than you, and me, and right here, now."
Sure, Frank was Todd's friend, but with nothing at stake. Neither had gone through thick and thin for the other, and Frank would rather not. Frank put on his own act, looking affronted by Todd's mistrust, and said, "Of course I'm your friend, and anything you say is confidential. Do me a solid and I'll be grateful, that's what we are for each other, right?"
Todd didn't look convinced, but Frank guessed Todd had already made up his mind to go through with this. "She's the greatest fuck I ever had," said Todd. "And maybe ever will."
His voice shook at end of that.
Frank said nothing.
