Chapter Four -- The Kind of Neighbors that Kiss
Hudson stepped into the elevator and pressed his forefingers against his temples, forcing a groan out of himself as he leaned against the wall. Two days after having paid that visit to The Bouncing Bunny, and he still felt the grime of that place on his skin. He had taken photos of the two young men while giving them free reign to pet each other -- nothing too raunchy, he had ordered, some people liked using their imagination -- and he had focused the phone camera on their faces, trying to catch them at good angles so that he could search for them in the missing persons database he accessed using his usual credentials. It was a tedious task that had kept him awake more than it should have, but he couldn't stop himself from doing it. The captain kept telling him he couldn't save everyone. That still left room for saving some, right?
"Hold the door, please," someone called out and Hudson immediately held up his arm to do as asked.
He was rather surprised to see his neighbor, his cute neighbor who had run out of his apartment after being kissed as if his house had been on fire, rushing into such close quarters with him, looking a little flushed and breathless.
"How're you doing?" he asked with a polite smile, meant for neighbors he didn't know anything about. Except that he knew a couple of things about this one, didn't he? He stole a glance at Otis. He was biting his bottom lip and looking ahead. Was the young man trying to ignore him? That would do both of them a world of good.
"I'm fine, thank you for your kind question," Otis replied in his usual, over the top formal fashion. "And how are you?"
"I've been better. Thank you for your kind question," Hudson mimicked.
The elevator seemed to move at a snail's pace. There was an awkward silence between them until the car stopped. Hudson made a move to get to the door, and Otis hurried toward it at the same time, which made them clash and look at each other, equally startled.
There were things you could change in the world, right? Philosophers and the like said so; they said it was healthy. Hudson made the decision in the blink of an eye. "Are you still looking for dating advice?" he asked.
"Yes, always," Otis replied and blushed. He bit his bottom lip again and looked away.
"How about now?" Hudson offered. For some reason, the youth in front of him didn't think himself dating material and that was a mistake. Also, since he appeared to be so gullible despite his strange mannerisms, he could also fall victim to bad people. Hudson was already preparing a mental lecture. Damn, maybe he was getting old. Older than his years, obviously.
***
That had been an unexpected encounter. Otis had played various scenarios in his mind regarding the best way to act when seeing Hudson again. Apparently, his imagination had a way of running away with him, because, invariably, he visualized himself getting pressed against a wall, a sofa, a bed, or even the floor, by his neighbor's hard body and made to yield to another kiss. He had to stop imagining ever seeing Hudson again altogether just to stop the boiling in his blood. Well, maybe it didn't boil, because that would cause his death, but there was a definite rise in temperature he experienced if he did as little as think of those tattoos pointing at a certain part of his neighbor's anatomy.
His grandma used to say that fate had its ways to work itself out. Even the direst circumstances shouldn't make you lose hope. That was a beautiful thought; Otis had always thought so.
Right now, fate was offering him a chance. Hudson was offering more dating advice, so he had to take it because a 'no' at the wrong time might close that door for him forever.
"Yes," he replied energetically to his neighbor's question. "I would love to."
"Then, please, be my guest for the next ten minutes or so," Hudson said.
"Ten minutes? That sounds like a very short time for proper advice," Otis commented.
"You're in the habit of cutting these little sessions of ours quite short," Hudson said as they walked side by side down the hallway. He added a smile to that, and Otis made the mistake of looking at him. That dimple was there. It drew his eyes and he wanted to look at it from up close, maybe even touch it. "Is there something on my face?"
Otis shook his head. "You have a dimple. It's funny. It makes me want to poke you."
Hudson laughed and opened the door to his apartment. "Come on. I'll answer your questions and give you some thoughts of my own. But no poking, please."
"Of course not. I don't act on my impulses," Otis replied with emphasis. "I'm a thinking person."
"Until you're not." The last words were said so quietly that he almost missed them.
However, it seemed dishonest to pretend. "I heard that," he said.
"Damn, you're a smartass," Hudson commented and chuckled.
Even the way he chuckled made him sound like a man, Otis mused. Yes, everything about Hudson was manly, from the short stubble on his face to the way he moved with so much confidence in his muscles, joints and bones. There was so much to learn from him. Otis felt truly excited about it.
Hudson invited him to sit on the same sofa, and Otis decided to project the right image this time around. He took his seat with determination and then looked up at his host expectantly. "I'm ready," he said, after a few unnerving moments during which Hudson just stood there, a couple of feet away, staring at him. There was also the matter of all those leashes and muzzles on the wall, and Otis had to use all his power not to let his eyes stray there. The need to ask questions would surely come next. Something told him that they weren't far enough into dating advice to bring those up.
"Let's start with something simple," Hudson began. Otis nodded eagerly. "Have you ever kissed someone?"
"Yes," Otis lied. He wasn't thinking at the moment, as much as he thought himself to be a thinking person. He couldn't help staring at Hudson, and that made his throat go dry. The way his neighbor crossed his arms, exposing his sleeve tattoos, was enough for him to turn hot and cold from one moment to the next. How was it possible to feel like that in Hudson's presence? Did Hudson realize what he was doing to people, only by walking in the world, with that purposeful stride, with those strong arms, with that confident look in his eyes?
"Let me make a few things clear. We're not talking here about the way you kiss your mom good night," Hudson said.
Otis felt his chest turning inward. His mom had never liked good night kisses. He couldn't remember one occasion she had let him kiss her.
