Streas

I woke up to find a strange man looking into my bedroom window on the seventeenth floor.

Fight-or-flight kicked in first, and I jerked awake, sitting bolt upright. My body didn't know if it should leap from the bed, or jump into a fighting stance. And then my brain caught up and noticed two things at the same time.

First, the window-wishing harness. And second, that it was both summer-hot, and refreshingly cool in my bedroom. What the-- oh. It had been so hot last night, I hadn't bothered with pajamas. Or underwear. And my morning wood was saluting the poor guy hanging outside my apartment window.

I grabbed the blankets and wrapped them around my shoulder. "Sorry," I said meekly. Already I could feel my cheeks flush.

The guy laughed, a deep laugh that could only come from someone that young hanging two hundred feet off the ground. "Don't worry about it, I've seen worse."

Maybe he'd seen worse, but it had never been me-- flashing a complete stranger. I felt stupid. I should have known better. There'd been notices posted in the elevator about the window washing for at least a month now. "I completely forgot," I said, my face still flush, "I've been studying for exams, and was up so late last night, I--"

Another laugh, and he shook his head, short blond curls bouncing. I've been doing this long enough, everyone forgets. Really, don't worry about it-- but since I've got you, could you please remove the screens?"

He tapped the window screen with his boot. "Damn," I said, embarrassed for a whole other reason. I slipped out of bed, the sheets still around me. "Again, sorry--"

"Hey, you're actually lucky you were still in bed," he said with a grin, "I have to skip the windows with the screens still on."

I leaned against the wall of my crappy apartment-- builder's special paint that looked like puke incarnate, forced air baseboard heaters that dried the air, fluorescent lights and a bedroom just barely enough for the hand-me-down twin set I'd dragged to college. But the rent was cheap enough that I didn't need a roommate, and the view of the city from this high up-- all worth it.

"Can't take the screens of yourself, huh?" I asked, mostly out of curiosity. I started to dig at the clips that held it in place. The windowsill was waist-high, so I could lean against it and hold the sheets closed while I worked with my hands.

"Not allowed to," he answered, absently twirling the squeegee hanging from his utility belt, "Might drop them, insurance would hate that."

I finally got the first clip undone-- though it was a clip in name only. A clip-shaped pile of rust, perhaps. "Jeeze, when was the last time anyone took out this screen?"

"Probably never," he answer, poking at the other window. A tiny stream of soapy water ran down the glass. "Would explain why the window's this dirty."

"Doesn't seem that bad from this side," I said, looking up. I got a nice face-level view of his harness-- criss-crossing straps of leather and buckles that kept his legs apart. Dark and well-worn jeans, snugly fitting white shirt. A squeegee and some rags hung off his belt. A large bucket of soapy water dangled next time him, suspended by a second rope.

"Refraction," he answered. I glanced up at him, the term tickling the poor abused part of my brain that had studied physics all night. He must have seen the thought on my face-- how does a window washer know physics. "What? We all have to pay for college somehow."

I shouldn't make judgements like that. "Line chef at Le Beouf," I admitted. My finger slipped on the second clip, and it poked my under my finger nail. "Ow!" I said, instinctively sucking on my finger. I looked up to see him watching me, and odd smile on his face.

"I'll get the top ones," he said. He gave one of the ropes a tug-- a counterbalance, I guess-- and pulled himself up a few feet. He pried at the clips from the outside.

"I thought you weren't allowed to help," I said, shaking the tingling sensation from my finger, and going back to work on the bottom clip.

"Sometimes I break the rules," he answered. "Advantage of being thrown off the side of a building and expected to 'be a self-supervisor'. As long as I ain't hurting anyone, right?"

"Yeah."

Now that I could focus on that one stupid clip, we made short work of the screen. "Here it comes," he said, and popped it out of the frame. We twisted and turned it, and finally I had it in the room. He let go a moment before I was ready, and the thing flopped around. I jerked, snatching it before it hit the ground-- and the sheet slipped off my shoulders. I tossed the screen aside and grabbed the sheet before I flashed him again-- though I'm sure a glimpse got through. I had it bunched around my waist, my chest exposed to the cool summer air blowing in. I could see the lake the city was built around from up here. Even though it was a good ten miles away, I got the lake effect breeze. It felt really good whispering across my bare chest. I didn't want to have to cover back up-- it's the first relief from the heat I'd felt in days.

He was still looking at me as he slowly lowered himself back down to washing height-- booted feet touching the window sill. "You know, you don't have to scramble to cover up. I'm cool."

I smiled. "Just kinda embarrassing. I don't really-- like-- being exposed. I'm the kind of guy who wears his shirt to the beach."

"I don't see why," he replied, pushing at the window sill with his toes-- gently bouncing a couple inches away from the edge then falling back, rhythmically swinging. "You don't look like you need a shirt."

I wanted to gather the blankets around me again and hide under them. My self-esteem hadn't quite caught up with my body yet. "You never had to eat my mom's cooking. It wasn't exactly bad-- but not healthy. Or portion controlled. Kinda grew up unhealthy, and all the other kids around me made sure to let me know. And my mom-- well, food is love, food is comfort. So when I was sad for being unhealthy, she comforted me with food. Nice circle, huh? But now-- working that line chef job, I'm learning to cook for myself. Portions, nutrition. And ever since I moved in here, I promised myself that I'd avoid the elevator as much as possible. Seventeen flights of stair, y'know?" I didn't even realize I was looking down at my feet-- that my voice was starting to get quiet. Just like always. Self-esteem! I looked up at him, swaying back and forth, a content grin on his face.

"Good for you, man," he said, "If I ate like I did in high school-- well, hell, these ropes do have strict requirements for load bearing. And I like this job more than pizza."

My fingers twitched, but I didn't reach for the blanket. I left it draped around my hips. My jaw was tightening, so I forced it to relax. This was college time. I was living on my own. Damnit, I promised myself I'd change and grow as a person. Stop being the shy introvert role I was shoved into in school. No-- that I shoved myself into. I needed to be more open-- and talking to strangers-- making small talk-- what better way to open?

"Window washing is that fun, huh?"

He shrugged. "Not the washing, per se-- but the freedom. Dangling this high above the ground with nothing but a strap of leather and my thoughts. I get to see some pretty awesome sunsets, too."

"I bet the bird watching is top notch," I say with a grin, and he returns it.

"Yeah, and every now and then I get to meet some interesting people."

I almost made a self-deprecating comment-- like 'hey there's still time, you might meet one today'-- but stopped myself. He was actually complimenting me, saying I was interesting. Not putting me down. Not making fun of me. Not everyone in the world is out to get me. Intellectually, I know that-- stupid brain. I smiled at him. "Thanks. Hey, hope I'm not making you run behind schedule."

"Nah," he said, "Self-supervising, remember? I always schedule a wash so it'll take an hour longer on the books than it actually will. Gives me time to stop and smell the flowers, do a proper job, all that. I've got time-- uh," he paused, looked confused, then barked out laugh, "Never introduced myself. I'm Dan."

"Taylor,"I replied. "Glad you could hang out for a bit." I stopped dead. "I totally didn't mean it like a pun."

"You wouldn't be the first one," he said.

"So, Dan, I guess you get to peek in on naked people all the time."

"Not as often as you'd think," he replied, "It's kinda like pizza delivery boys. All a nice fantasy, but in reality people either have curtains, or you wish they did."

I could picture what he meant. I've met some of my neighbours. "I was tempted to buy curtains, but I figured seventeenth floor, what was the point? Rather put that money towards books and groceries. But hey, I guess now you can brag you got to peep in on a naked looker. Sorry I'm not a hot chick, though."

"I'm not complaining," he said, and though he was smiling, it seemed a touch more serious. Like-- he wasn't laughing. Just happy.

"Oh," I said aloud. Oh. Oh. I suddenly didn't feel like I was half-covered in a sheet. I felt naked.

I didn't feel like I had to cover up. But I also didn't know what to say. There was silence for a moment-- just the wind whipping through the screen-less window, and the sound of the morning traffic from far below.

"Hey, Taylor," Dan said, "Take my hand."

I shook my head, breaking out of the stupor I'd put myself in. "What?"

Dan bent his knees, and braced himself on the windowsill-- almost in my apartment but still not-- and held his hand out. "Take my hand and come onto the window sill. You've got to see this view-- no, no no, experience it."

I tried not to take a step back from him. "I-- uh-- I like the view, but not heights."

Dan nodded at me, and held his hand out again. "Exactly. Neither did I, until the first time I strapped in."

My heart started racing. All I could picture was that window-- open, no screen, fully exposed-- a drop on the other side. And all I could think of was stepping over that ledge and out into the open and falling and it'd be horrible and I can't stop my mind from thinking stupid thoughts and I can't breath--

"Whoa, whoa," Dan said, and suddenly my hand is cramping. I've taken his hand, but I don't remember doing it. My feet are still planted in place. "Take a deep breath, Taylor. You're thinking about the ground, aren't you?"

I nod, and swallow deeply. "That I can't stop myself from jumping if I see the open window."

"Yeah, everyone thinks that," he says, squeezing my hand back. "The mind just goes straight to worse-case scenario. I guess it's a survival thing but, man, it holds you back. Makes you afraid. You end up never trying new things, never growing--"

"-- as a person," I finish for him-- and take a step forward. Then another. He starts to straighten his legs, pushing back, but keeping his feet planted to the window sill. I tuck the sheet under itself-- not caring if it'll hold or not-- and raise my foot up onto the sill. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and climb up.

The faux-marble is freezing cold on my bare feet. The wind whips against my legs, shooting up the might-as-well-be-a-toga sheet. His hand is gripping mine tight.

"Lean back a bit," he says softly, and I do. Our arms go taut, and he's holding me in place like a counterbalance.

I open my eyes-- and see the entire world laid out before me. The city stretching out to the hazy horizon. The lake shimmering in the distance. Houses, buildings. Flocks of birds, as seen from above. Clouds as free as me. No window sill, no window frame. Nothing but a completely open world.

I look down-- my brain snapping to attention as I look down, shouting at me not to. DON'T LOOK DOWN! DON'T LOOK DOWN!

The traffic on the highway is picking up now, toy cars zipping past two hundred feet below. The tops of the trees are in full bloom.

"Lean forward a bit," Dan says, and I do.

Dan's hand is still holding mine. His legs are fully extended, like he's standing straight up on the side of the building. The wind's caught his hair and is tussling it. His tools are handing loose, swaying in the wind. But he's perfectly still-- a rock solid anchor holding me in place. As I lean forward slightly, he leans twice as far back-- balance.

"How's the view?" he shouts over the wind.

"Amazing," I whisper, looking at him framed by the world. Even if he doesn't hear me, I know he knows what I mean.

Dan throws his head back, and lets out a whoop-- taking in the world completely free and upside down. He's hanging off me, and my heart skips again, but my brain just thinks about cold hard facts. All the physics I've jammed in there since last night. Balance and counterbalance. Distribution of force. Angles. Coefficients.

He couldn't be in that position without me to hold him. I'm holding him in place as much as he's holding me.

"I love this!" he shouts at the world. His t-shirt flaps, and I get a brief glance underneath. As much as physics are keeping us in place, I shouldn't discount the effect his abs are having on our balance system.

Or on me.

He curls and looks up at me. "Told ya?"

"Yeah."

He slides his feet further apart, slowly starting to, for lack of a better term, sit up. My knees threaten to buckle, and I resist leaning forward.

"Whoa, it's okay," Dan says.

The blood is rushing to my head down, pumped by a heart racing way too fast. Oh shit, what if I fall? "How do I get down?" I ask, my voice quivering a bit despite how steady I'm trying to keep myself.

"Slowly," he answers, a soft calm in his voice. "As I sit up, you just-- step back."

"How?"

"First one foot, then the other," Dan says, "Just like how you've stepped all your life."

He made it sound so simple. I shuffled my right heel back. An inch. And another inch. I felt the edge of the window sill, and the adrenaline spiked and redoubled. So close to being back in the apartment, but no matter how close I was-- I just simply wasn't. The rush was threatening to turn into panic.

Dan sat up further, and his free hand touched my right leg. Gentle, soft. "Don't worry, you're close, doing great. Just--" his fingers put a bit of pressure on my leg. The touch became firm through the sheet. "Just keep doing what you're doing, you're doing great Taylor."

His words stopped me from shaking, and I refocused the adrenaline pumping through me. Into my legs. Where he was touching. I took the step back, my foot in the air-- and it felt like a plunge. I bent my left leg-- and fell an eternity until my foot finally touched the rough hardwood of my apartment.

Without hesitation, I pulled my other leg in, and was on firm ground. Dan sat up in his harness, the rope squeaking as he repositioned-- framed in my bedroom window. My heart was still racing from the rush, the exhilaration. I've never felt anything like it before, and my body was not calming down.

My hand was in his, and I was planted firmly to the ground. Really, physics gave us no choice as to where our bodies were going next. Truly that's it.

My grip tightened, my arm bent, and pulled him closer to me. Into the window frame. My hips were against the sill, and so were his-- so I pulled his upper body to me. Heart pounding, blood flowing-- I just took the step and plunged into him. I pulled Dan's face to mine, cradling him in my arms, and kissed him.

For a long moment, even though there was that massive open world right there before us-- all I knew where his lips pressed against him, the feeling of his skin against mine. His pulse pounding against my fingers, reverberating though my bones and combining with my own rush of blood.

What-- I suddenly pulled away, our kiss breaking noisily. All that rushing blood started to settle-- in my cheeks. I could feel my face on fire.

"Oh shit," I said, "I'm sorry-- I never-- didn't know-- I-- girls?"

He cocked his head-- and then the world was full once again with his deep laugh. He leaned forward, swaying on the rope, and kissed me just as deeply as I had kissed him. Dan's arms wrapped around me, anchoring himself with my body-- half into my apartment and half dangling free. His tongue parted my lips, and touched mine. His fingers ran down my naked back, tracing my shoulder blades.

I'd never once thought of kissing another guy. I'd never dismissed the thought, either. And now, I couldn't think of anything else.

His fingers whispered further down my skin, and found the hem of the sheet. As Dan slipped his hand beneath the soft fabric and touched my hardness, we both knew what my thoughts on the matter were. His caress continued downwards, parting the bedsheets. With a small sound, they slipped from my hips.

He broke the kiss to look down at me, still grinning wildly. His hand found purchase, his fingers wrapping around the other place in my body the blood was gathering.

For someone who worked with his hands all day, his skin was so smooth and soft. As he traced a line from my thighs to the tip of my cock, it was like he was tickling me with a sheet of silk.

I put my hand on his, and gripped him tight. Stopping him. I looked up, and met his eyes-- even though my vision was verging on blurry.

"I--" I swallowed hard. "You did something wonderful for me already. Let me-- umm--"

Sometimes step by step was fine. Sometimes I just had to take a plunge.

I took a half step forward, stepping into him, resuming our kiss. I knew what I wanted this time, and went straight for it. My mouth was hungry, and kissed him hard. I felt a bit guilty that I hadn't shaved yet-- I'd had girlfriends complain about that in the past. But Dan wasn't complaining. And his own morning hint-of-stubble was a fascinating contrast versus the softness of his lips.

My hands found his harness, and moved down the tight leather. Down his shirt, to where the harness hugged his waist. I rested my hands on his jeans. If I had any worried that I was forcing my suddenly awakened bi-curiosity on some innocent straight guy, they were instantly dispelled. As hard as I was-- he was ten times harder.

I fumbled a bit, trying to kiss him and unzip him at the same time. He didn't move a hand to help, keeping his own hands running smooth circles across my naked back. He let me explore him like I wanted. I undid the zipper, opened the button, pushed his underwear aside-- and pulled out the first cock I'd ever held in my hands that wasn't mine.

I wasn't wrong when I suspected he was hard. He was firm in my hands, pointed straight at me. I have no idea what size he was-- big, small, average, whatever. I didn't exactly have experiences to compare it against. But I didn't care. It was his cock, and it was hard for me.

And I wanted him. I stroked as softly as he stroked me-- my fingers wrapped around him. His grip on my back tightened, and he pulled closer-- pressing our bodies together, pressing his shaft against my chest. I couldn't wrap my fingers around him, but kept him against my skin instead. Right above my heart. I stroked the best I could-- but I wanted more.

I pulled my face back, and looked over his shoulder. There was a city of millions there. "Can we--" I stopped, then started again, "-- can anyone see us?"

"Everyone's got their days to live," Dan said, his voice lilting slightly, "Before five minutes ago-- would you have looked up?"

I shook my head. My fingers wrapped around his cock, taking a firm grip on it-- holding it, pointing it up-- putting it in place. I pulled back against his grip, and even though he still held me, he let me move. I bent down, bringing my face down to him-- and took the plunge. I took his cock right into my mouth, and it fit so well. I ran my tongue across his hard flesh, my lips closing around him. Dan moaned the moment he was in my mouth-- a sound as deep and full and honest as his laugh. His hands were both firm and gentle on my back-- holding on to me, but not forcing me. But he didn't have to.