CHAPTER 8 FUTURE FALLOUT

Maybe he should take what seemed like everyone’s advice and seek counseling. His mom had suggested it first, but she didn’t know that as he saw it, his primary need had nothing to do with Laine’s exit. It would be her assumption that he was getting counseling for the issues surrounding the pending divorce as she’d hoped. And they’d won at sectionals! He’d been sure that most of the totally out of character anxiety and worry would disappear after that. But they hadn’t, they weren’t.

He’d sort of blown it off when she’d urged him to find a counselor. She’d even volunteered to find the best for him, but he’d politely, but firmly, declined the offer. Even if he decided to try it, he certainly didn’t want his mother picking someone out for him. He knew it was a stupid comparison, but it was like her helping him pick out underwear. “Oh Blaine! This is a nice color!” she’d say displaying the package, while Blaine turned the same color red as the underwear.

And then one day as they were sipping coffee at the Lima Bean, Kurt had broached the subject; that’s when he really started to listen. Since that humiliating night when he…when he what? Impotence sounded too clinical. Some of the common euphemisms for it sounded ridiculous or downright demeaning, stifficulty, limp dick and his personal NOT really a favorite, Cuban missile crisis? Really? So he settled for when he couldn’t get it up. Their extensive online research would have put a private detective to shame. And to their astonishment they’d found it wasn’t uncommon among teens, but along with that they’d discovered that, generally speaking, stress was the answer to the question, Why?

Kurt remembered his total frustration when, at the tender age of 13, he’d done his own search with his dad’s help. Three short years later, Google opened the door to what appeared to be a bumper crop of therapists specializing in gay counseling. Amazing! Suddenly, the phrase “gay is okay” could apply to Lima, Ohio of all places? And then he thought, no….it really wasn’t okay if there were so many specialists focusing their practices on gay issues.

As serious as the subject was to them, Blaine couldn’t help but laugh when Kurt reached for a fresh notebook lying on his desk. “What are you doing?” Blaine smiled. “We’re going to make a list,” he said matter-of-factly. “Of?” Blaine queried. “The immediate stressors in your life,” Blaine burst out laughing, “Maybe you could be my counselor! You certainly sound enough like one!” “Well, maybe I should be since you obviously can’t handle them all on your own!” Kurt said with a hurt expression. When Blaine could finally stop his laughter, he leaned over, kissing him firmly on the lips. “And this is one of the reasons I love you,” he said, decisively picking up the notebook.

Let’s see, his entire home life had just been turned on its head. Yes, his dad had left, but he’d always been in a perpetual state of “leaving” for as far back as Blaine’s memory would take him. His staying was the exception, not the rule. Surprised, Blaine realized that Laine’s total absence had left a void. How could that be? The man was barely aware of his family, how could there be a void?

He was in his first romantic relationship and his first sexual relationship. They hadn’t gone all the way, but it was still new to both he and Kurt. And then this whole impotence issue. Only he and Kurt knew about that. It had only happened twice since that initial time, but twice more was twice too many. When Kurt had suggested counseling, he’d been reluctant. Not so much about counseling but he was sure he’d be advised to get a physical exam as well. This was already embarrassing enough, he’d have to seek out a physician in a town he hadn’t been in for even a year. And what if something was really wrong? How was he going to explain a concern about impotence to his mom? And that part only added to his stress.

It had only been a matter of months since he’d come out to his parents and he hadn’t voluntarily told anyone else, except if he was flat-out asked. And so far there really hadn’t been any fallout from that. The people who knew were mostly gay themselves. No one had challenged him….yet. He’d anxiously waited in his room during the few times his dad had returned to the house to gather together some essentials he’d left behind. His troubled mind couldn’t seem to help concocting scenarios where Laine came roaring through the door shouting Blaine’s name. There was always a confrontation in the dreaded office. Someone somewhere had brought up the forbidden topic of Blaine’s sexual orientation, the result being Blaine’s leaving Dalton and Lima behind to satisfy his father’s disgrace.

Kurt had strongly considered going to his own dad for advice. He was the only guy he knew who would feel even a little bit comfortable approaching a parent with a question regarding sex. He could actually see his dad’s face, “Hey, dad, you got a minute? I need to talk to you about ED.” He’d try to hide his astonishment, but the worry lines between his eyebrows would speak for him. In his startled mind the only reason Kurt would be asking about impotence was because he was sexually active.

They’d discussed sex many times since that night he’d caught Kurt off guard, trapping him in the kitchen with a handful of pamphlets. Oh my god! Surely, he hadn’t gone to Ms. Pillsbury at school! She had a pamphlet for every single thing and he meant every. single. thing! His efforts at tuning Burt out had been fruitless. He’d literally forced Kurt into a kitchen chair, planting the pamphlets in front of him on the table. As his dad had put it, “I don’t know what two guys do….in bed. Well, actually I do now after reading these. But it’s going to happen probably sooner rather than later, so I want you to be prepared. I want us to be prepared if you want to talk.” And he believed his dad would be understanding, but he was a parent! He’d worry every time Kurt and Blaine disappeared to the privacy of the back porch! And how awkward would it be to actually know without a doubt that his dad knew what they were doing? And besides, if he was going to talk to his dad about this, it would only be fair that Blaine be with him. After all, they were a couple…it still seemed weird…but wonderful!… to think of himself as part of couple

And Blaine couldn’t even imagine a dialogue between he and his mom. Even though their relationship had strengthened and grown, even though he could finally think of them in terms of mother and son, she was a woman. And his mother! No, if he sought counseling, he didn’t want her to know it was not only because of stress from all the other stuff, but also because he needed advice about sex…or in this case, at times, a lack thereof. She didn’t even know that he and Kurt had…well, done what they’d done already. She was open-minded, sure, and she probably assumed that they were having sex of some sort, but he didn’t want to confirm it and end up in probably what would lead to multiple discussions.

The divorce was now a foregone conclusion and Barb was fully aware that fingers were quickly texting spreading the news. She knew in the hush that often fell over the table in a restaurant or a cluster of other volunteers that her life was being picked apart and put back together piece by piece like car parts in a hobbyist’s garage.

As of yet, her list of close friends in Lima, or at least close enough to have a heart-to-heart conversation with, was nil. It was at these times that she knew, if not for Blaine’s sake, she would already have her luggage packed, her destination Appleton.

Teresa….she would understand, commiserate, listen as Barb told the tale of her cracked and broken marriage, without judgement and even more important to Barb, without pity. She doubted she’d be shocked at all. She’d probably be pleased if anything! They’d shared their personal sagas of woe a million times, adding to them over the years. There was only one thing she had never, ever shared with her. It was just as much hidden from Teresa as it was from everyone but she and Laine….well, and all the “others” in Laine’s life.

In Lima, for the most part, she’d encountered sympathy. Their faces and the corners of their eyes would droop just a little, their hands would pat hers like condolences at a funeral. But she could pinpoint the ones who murmured soothing words, yet couldn’t wait to change their tune and take morbid delight in hoping to be the first to drop the bombshell of gossip on someone else.

And then there were those who appeared to be puzzled. Asking their silent questions in their heads. Why would any sane woman give up a man like Laine? He was every woman’s dream! Handsome, polite, attentive…whatever a person, and especially a woman, required of him in the moment. Their barely veiled and misplaced sympathy wasn’t sympathy at all. For them, Laine would be considered a catch! The next eligible bachelor. Those were the ones she took pity on herself. Hopefully, Laine would leave every thought of marriage behind. Let him continue to perfect his chameleon ways, to hide from his true self…do anything but inflict more pain on another clueless woman!

Sure, when Teresa had first met them, she was as taken with Laine as every other woman. Barb had to laugh! She remembered when they’d first become friends. Teresa would go on and on about what a perfect husband he must be. Teresa was extremely observant though. After a while she’d noticed the way he came on to almost every woman he met….not in a particularly overt way though. He liked to flirt and when dancing was an option, he would entertain everyone with his dancing skills. But what women found more entertaining was his ability to put them at ease, to make them feel interesting and beautiful, as they slid across the room, waltzing, doing the tango. He’d dance with Barb too, of course, just enough to not make his womanizing too obvious.

Teresa and Barb’s relationship had grown and blossomed into a best friendship to the point where one evening while Laine was busy showering his attention on yet another man’s wife she asked, “Barb, has he always been like this…I mean it’s none of my business, but how do you stand it?” Barb thought for a minute – oh, Teresa, you don’t know the half of it! And she knew by now she didn’t have to pretend with Teresa, so answering honestly, she said, “For the most part, yeah, maybe not the first couple years, I guess…” her voice trailed off. “But he doesn’t take it beyond flirting, right? Sorry, that’s none of my business either.” Teresa had hurriedly replied. Barb could feel the lump forming in her throat. Why did answering this question still hurt? She had fallen out of love with him years ago. She just gave Barb a look that said it all, the tears just barely contained. “Come on, let’s get some air,” Teresa said.

From then on, Teresa had made it her business to keep an eye on Laine Anderson, but curiosity wasn’t her motive. Over coffee at off the beaten path coffee shops, lunch at favorite restaurants, walks in the park, Barb had candidly revealed the reality of her counterfeit marriage. Dabbing her downcast eyes with an already damp Kleenex, she’d sigh. “Ya know, T…it still hurts sometimes…but it isn’t his actions so much…” She’d raise her eyes to the expanse above as if looking for someone or something to confirm her answer. “It’s the damn loneliness! And before you ask why I don’t just… divorce him…or take a page from his playbook….no! I won’t stoop to his level. I will not hurt myself and others for some short-lived affair. And as for divorce? It’s complicated…very complicated.”

It made Teresa furious! Maybe if she actually caught him red-handed, Barb would find the courage to divorce him. And in their social set (or bubble as Teresa often thought of it), courage is what it took. No, divorce didn’t have the stigma attached to it that it once had, but people would talk, they’d feel sorry for her – something she knew Barb just couldn’t live with.

Teresa checked the mirror for probably the millionth time, but it was New Year’s Eve! Appleton wasn’t exactly a hot bed of excitement, but the party at the CopperLeaf Hotel was the in all caps social event of the year. The reservation list the following day would already be half filled for the gala taking place on the next New Year’s Eve. No one wanted the embarrassment of being pulled over driving home after one too many glasses of expensive champagne. Not to mention the danger! In Appleton, more often than not, the skies of winter would have dropped just enough snow making the roads slick, or worse, covered with patches of black ice.

Unfortunately, Barb had developed a cough that quickly turned into a fever, aching joints and a complete lack of energy. Teresa had taken on the role of nursemaid, companion and cook, creating simple dinners for Blaine, keeping Barb company and gathering prescriptions from CVS.

“T, I just can’t handle a party. Believe me, if there was one social event I wouldn’t miss unless I had to, this is it, but no not this time.” She’d said, sinking back into the pillows, her energy almost exhausted by that little bit of effort.

So, Teresa had gone by herself. She and her ex-husband, Evan, had parted ways long ago. She didn’t miss marriage, but she’d quit trying to convince her friends that this was so. She considered living alone a blessing. She could have easily found someone to escort her, but she liked her freedom. Better to live without a man than to live each day as Barb did! Let them pity her! She pitied them as well.

She could still see herself sitting on a long black leather couch lining half of a wall off to one side of the dance floor. She’d followed the tradition of reserving her room a year ago and as the evening wound down to that moment of ringing out the old and ringing in the new, she’d gone in search of her key card in the tiny spangled bag she carried. Attempting to not look as panicked as she felt when she couldn’t find it, her first thought was she’d forgotten it in her room. Taking the carpeted stairs to the front desk, the clerk listened attentively as she explained her dilemma. After going through the rigmarole of providing photo ID and rechecking her reservation status, the clerk handed her another key card with a weary smile as Teresa thanked him. He probably encountered this same problem who knew how many times in a day.

Rushing back to the festivities, trying not to stumble on her heels, she was glad she hadn’t missed officially ringing in the New Year. And as everyone watched the ball drop in New York, suddenly she was spun around, taken into a firm embrace and felt lips on hers, drunken lips. She was so taken by surprise she didn’t realize that it was a playful Michael who had kissed her! She smiled up into his brown eyes and gave him an impish pat on the butt. It was common knowledge that Michael was gay…or maybe bisexual, who knew these days? Either way, he was one of her favorite people. If he had an official partner no one knew it and if she’d wanted an escort, she probably would have chosen him. Lots of women did. But earlier she’d noticed him leaning against a wall in conversation with a man she didn’t recognize…and then later at a table he was sharing with a handful of other partiers……hmmmm….

Another hour of socializing and she was ready for bed. She said her good nights and happy New Year’s, deciding climbing the stairs probably wasn’t a very good idea. She wasn’t drunk, just a little tipsy, but she didn’t need to compound problems by falling as she walked up three flights of stairs.

As she approached her room she saw the remains of a room service order sitting by one of the doors. She’d been more vigilant than usual that night about watching Laine’s movements. She assumed with Barb completely out of the picture, he’d certainly take advantage of the night out alone. She’d watched as he’d made his ladies’ man ways around the room hoping to figure out who the “lucky” lady might be. But then she’d gotten distracted by the ringing in the new year, having probably one too many glasses of champagne. Oh, well, if not tonight she’d catch him sometime, somehow.

She already knew that the room service remains belonged to Laine. She’d known his room number. Barb had told her that every year after the party was over and they’d ready themselves to leave, Laine would make a reservation for the next year, for the same room. As she stood by the elevator about three doors down, she saw the door open and a man in disheveled clothes start to leave the room with an ice bucket. He turned as he closed the door behind him, half whispering, “I’ll be back in a sec, babe.”

Babe? Why would a man be calling Laine “babe”? After her initial shock, she slipped into the stairwell, watching and waiting to see the man return…and he did eventually. It was the guy who was Michael’s date? escort? for the evening! What in the….???? And then, as if she hadn’t seen enough, she heard the elevator ding and watched as Michael himself got off, silently waving to his whatever, both of them disappearing into the room!

She had to be seeing things, had to be! Things that weren’t there! Maybe Laine had switched rooms at the last minute and Michael and what’s his name had taken it? But then, who was “babe”? A woman maybe? What had she stumbled onto?

She didn’t want to be caught tiptoeing past the room trying to gather clues, but she also didn’t want to be caught in the stairwell peering through the window like a private investigator. Finally, she opened the door as quietly as possible and began her trek down the hall to her own room. As she approached what she assumed was Laine’s room, she carefully glanced at the tray by the door, wondering to herself, seriously? What am I going to find on a room service tray that might be personal? She moved as slowly as possible, hoping not to appear nosey.

And she tried to miss it. Oh, how she tried! She didn’t want to believe what she thought this might be. She’d prefer almost any other scenario. A whole room full of women would be better than this! And then she saw the three beer bottles, all of them the same brand. A brand maybe not familiar to most, but very familiar to her. She’d seen it many times at dinner parties at the Anderson home. Laine loved to brag about it because it was a limited edition beer and he always had some on hand. Bourbon County Vanilla Rye. Very hard to find, even in Wisconsin, one of the unofficial beer capitals of the US.

Now, she picked up her pace, wanting to get to her room ASAP! Dropping her heels on the floor, she fell onto the bed in a quandary. She tried to create all kinds of plausible scenarios for what she’d seen. Being a womanizer was one thing. But this? Well, of course things like this probably happened more frequently than anyone believed in Appleton, but had Laine been so drunk that he’d carelessly forgotten how those bottles could be connected to him? Anyone would assume that was his room if they saw that and maybe some already had, but she doubted anyone had seen what she had. Much more than just beer bottles!

She wanted to tell Barb if for no other reason than to protect her health. A true friend would tell her no matter how much it might hurt. It might even end their friendship if Barb didn’t believe her. Was it better for her to find out from her? Or was it better to say nothing and hope to be there when someone else might find out and reveal it? And why didn’t Laine just divorce her? Honestly? Did he really care so much about appearances that he’d lead this double life and ruin two other people’s lives, hoping no one would find out?

Or maybe Barb did know? But why stay with him then? She didn’t have any answers and eventually fell into a troubled, dreamless sleep. When she woke up far too early, but with a clearer head, she made the decision not to tell her. If Barb ever needed a friend to lean on, she wanted to be there for her.

“Kurt, will you go with me?” Blaine asked. Kurt smiled inwardly. They’d already discussed this, but he knew Blaine needed reassurance. Kurt was sure they were cross-eyed from researching ED on the Internet. And then more hours searching for what they hoped would be the right counselor. And then of course there were the legalities. Luckily for them, in Ohio, anyone 14 and older could seek counseling and receive it for up to 6 weeks without parental consent.

Neither wanted to go to their parents if they didn’t have to. Even if they all assumed Blaine and Kurt were having sex, it was still embarrassing to talk about. And if they discussed it once with them, they’d want to know about progress and they’d worry as parents did. Neither wanted to hear questions like, “So, how are things going in the sex department, guys? Is your counselor up to the task?” ha-ha-ha double entendre. Of course, they both knew their parents would never actually say something like that, but who wants your parents to be worrying about your sex life?

“Yes, of course I’m going with you,” he told Blaine for what seemed like the tenth time. And although it wasn’t exactly an issue for them, they had to consider the cost if for no other reason than Blaine couldn’t use health insurance unless he told his mom. If his dad was nothing else, he was not parsimonious. Blaine had been receiving a comfortable allowance since he was five. Of course, his parents had handled most of that money until he was 13, doling out what Blaine might need, but banking the rest. And his dad had never been averse to Blaine working at things like mowing lawns, mulching leaves or just helping their neighbors in general, delivering packages to a few who could no longer get them themselves, bagging groceries. If his father loved one thing about Blaine it was that he wasn’t afraid of hard work. And how much money did a 15-year-old really need? His parents would have closely questioned any extravagance.

Blaine had his first appointment on Wednesday. He and Kurt were spending their usual Sunday on the porch, Finn and Quinn having gone on a class trip to Chicago.

Kurt squeezed his arms tightly around Blaine as they lay on a couple of thick blankets on the floor, their heads propped up with overstuffed pillows. “Look at us….talking about ED in our teens,” Blaine sort of laughed. “Do you suppose he’ll prescribe Viagra?” he said, only half kidding. Kurt softened his hold and drew back so he could look into Blaine’s hazel eyes. “Blaine, we both know it’s most likely stress that’s causing it and hopefully talking to someone outside of the situation will give us some insight. You believe I love you completely, right?” Blaine gently placed a hand on Kurt’s cheek, caressing his porcelain skin with his fingers, “Yeah, I believe that, but….” Kurt wordlessly placed a finger to Blaine’s lips, silencing him.

Once those shade-shifting eyes imprisoned his own he knew he’d gladly throw away the key to whatever prevented their release. Instinctively, he closed the distance between them, lowering his eyelids, kissing Kurt lovingly at first, murmuring, “I love you….” By degrees, the feathery kiss intensified, and along with it, so did his need. Their lips becoming a conduit for the electrical charge surging through their bodies, Blaine pried Kurt’s mouth open, coiling his greedy tongue with Kurt’s.

The voices of want and need surrounded them speaking in desperate tones and yearning sighs. He wanted Kurt…needed him….now. Kurt’s fingertips skimmed the smooth skin of Blaine’s face, then enjoyed the slight ridge of stubble. Tracing the area where their lips met, with intention he drew a long finger down and over his chin, finally coming to rest in the hollow at the bottom of his throat. One…two…three….Blaine’s essence came to life in the subtle beating of his pulse.

Blaine rolled onto his back, covering his body with Kurt’s. The pressure of Kurt’s body on top of him was like an aphrodisiac. He could feel himself getting hard and his body tensed. What if he couldn’t this time, too? What if Kurt got tired of dealing with it?

“Kurt,” he whispered against his lips in a somewhat plaintive voice. Kurt broke the kiss and again placed a single finger on his lips, licking it and then slipping it into Blaine’s mouth. Every time Kurt did this, it was like a jolt to his system, as he instinctively sucked the finger, simulating something they hadn’t done yet. They’d been waiting for the right time, the right place. Kurt, the hopeless romantic, fantasized about lying in fields of daisies following a picnic lunch of sensual food…whatever that meant….or maybe a white sand beach in a hidden cove? Like you’re going to find that in Ohio. Blaine’s fantasies were far more practical, or so he thought. Any place where it was quiet. Totally alone together…with hours of uninterrupted time. Somewhere only they knew.

Button by button Kurt removed Blaine’s favorite shirt, from top to bottom, while planting butterfly kisses over his face, along his jaw.

Sliding his hand across the patches of downy black hair on Blaine’s chest, he caressed his lover with his hands and his lips, hoping to put Blaine at ease, hoping to replace the scary thoughts with thoughts of their lovemaking. Touching Blaine like this so softly was like….like imagining how air might feel…but gradually Blaine’s body would become combustible creating a fire that could barely be contained. He gently tweaked a nipple as Blaine released a moan, placing his hand over Kurt’s following it as it moved like a planchette on a Ouija board. When their hands reached the button on his jeans, he tensed again. He was so hard! But…that could change in a second; he already knew that from experience. Kurt raised his eyes looking directly into Blaine’s, hoping they were reflecting reassurance, “I love you….it’ll be okay,” he whispered, sort of seeking assurance himself.

It had been two weeks since they’d been intimate and the hunger ran deep. Kurt replaced the hand on Blaine’s erect nipple with his lips as together they unzipped Blaine’s jeans, their hands lingering over his hard on. Blaine reached with both hands, impatiently pulling his jeans down, barely able to wait for the second when Kurt’s hand was laying over his clothed cock again.

Kurt took his time, one hand moving rhythmically over Blaine’s hardness, and using one finger of the other hand to draw a line between his navel and the edge of his waistband.

He’d been thinking about this all week. A part of him wanted it so badly but…another part was afraid if it “failed” Blaine would only feel worse about their situation. It was hard to think right now, but Blaine seemed ready in every way. He always made sure the small container of unscented baby oil was on the porch, small enough to slip into a pocket so no one would find it.

As he felt Blaine pushing his prick against his hand begging for more, he cupped his clothed balls, then reached for the tin of oil dipping his fingers into it. Should he try? His desire could barely contain itself. Finally, he let his instincts take over and tossed the doubts in his brain aside.

He moved a finger as if he were simply sliding it under Blaine’s waistband, but instead he tentatively used the finger to lift up the waistband. The feel of Blaine’s hard cock firmly clutched in his oily fingers was…..oh god…Blaine gasped and then released a deep moan, placing a shaky hand over Kurt’s, wanting….needing to feel his hand, his fingers engulfing his cock for the first time. Kurt clumsily moved Blaine’s underwear lower making it easier to….discover…..to sense….to touch the newness of Blaine’s nakedness…almost gasping himself.

Blaine was struggling to keep his response as quiet as possible. There was always the possibility that someone would thoughtfully knock at the porch door to alert them of their possible presence. Watching Blaine like this was so hot! The nuances of desire and need….written all over his face. Increasing the steady pace of his hand….he was careful to avoid the head of his cock until he was sure Blaine was ready. How could a person appear helpless yet completely focused all at the same time? Helpless to stop what was happening; focused on Kurt’s fingers, the newness of the sensations…..helpless….focused….helpless….he came, again slipping his hand over Kurt’s as if to say a silent thank you, a quiet I love you.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said after a few minutes, “we should have talked…..” This time Blaine placed a finger over Kurt’s lips. “No…no….if we would have talked about it first, I would have been obsessing over it, worried that….well, you know.” Kurt laid down next to him his lips nuzzling Blaine’s ear. “I’ve been thinking about it all week,” his warm breath whispered in Blaine’s ear, “I’ve missed you so much….I just couldn’t stop…I wanted to touch you, to know what it felt like….to love you like that.” Kurt sighed and nestled his head into Blaine’s neck.

So what had it been like? To be touched like that by someone he loved more than life? At first it had felt sort of strange. He was so used to his own hand. And it had been sort of clumsy getting his jeans down, just enough to give Kurt room to play, yet trying to be ready in case someone walked through the porch door. And he’d been scared to death that it wouldn’t work. But once he’d relaxed under Kurt’s hand….god! He couldn’t believe he’d lasted as long as he had!

Blaine rolled over onto his side so he was facing Kurt. “I can show you what it feels like,” he murmured against Kurt’s cheek, “I’m no expert but I’d like to practice…” Blaine’s lips caressed Kurt’s, gently nibbling them, until Kurt drew him down, opening Blaine’s mouth with the tip of his tongue and finding that sensitive spot beneath Blaine’s tongue, then entwining their tongues over and over. All Blaine could think about was wanting to literally rip Kurt’s clothes off. He wanted to stoke the fire he could feel in his deep kiss.

But ripping his clothes off wasn’t an option. Instead, he pulled the sleeveless shirt he was wearing up, exposing his chest. He reluctantly broke the kiss, but took in the view, noting that Kurt’s nipples were standing at attention, waiting to be touched, to be kissed….to be sucked. But first he reached down to unzip Kurt’s jeans, caressing his stiffness through his underwear until he felt Kurt move against him, moaning softly. He slipped to Kurt’s side, continuing his motion while placing his hand on one nipple and his lips on the other.

He still had some of the oil on his hand from Kurt’s ministrations and hoped it would be enough. He didn’t want to break the frantic mood. Yes, frantic! He had to consciously slow himself down. He wanted his hands, his mouth to consume Kurt’s body! His lips sucking, his other hand barely grazing a nipple, then pinching it was driving Kurt wild, his body involuntarily betraying him. Finally, he sat on Kurt’s belly, roughly pushing the underwear down as far as he could and wrapped both hands around his cock, stroking it while using a few fingers to play with his balls. Kurt was beside himself. He had to remain reasonably quiet, even when his whole body wanted to scream his pleasure.

“Blaine….now….ohgod….now….” he begged. Blaine switched to using one hand on his cock and wrapping the fingers of his other hand around the base. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing, except for what he’d done to himself. But listening to Kurt’s pleading, he figured he must be doing something right. And when Kurt came it was sort of like feeling himself coming all over again.

Barb had texted Teresa to see if she had time to talk. When Teresa saw the text, she smiled. It’d been a while since she and Barb had actually chatted, although Barb had made the trek to Appleton for long weekends on a couple of occasions. Teresa tapped, “how about some facetime” Now why hadn’t Barb thought of that? It wouldn’t be sitting on a cozy couch or meeting at an outdoor restaurant, but still. It might actually put Barb more at ease.

As Barb gazed at Teresa’s heart-shaped face on the screen, she smiled. “Well, you’re looking chipper!” she said trying to look chipper herself. But Teresa wasn’t easily fooled. It was obvious something was up. Teresa’s facial expression grew a bit serious and she asked, “Okay, what is it? What happened?”

Barb should have known that no matter how she communicated, Teresa would pick up on her subdued mood. And right now, she was feeling nervous? relieved? scared? It didn’t matter! Let’s just jump in and get this over with. “Um….Laine and I are getting a, um, a divorce.”

Teresa wasn’t exactly surprised at this news, but she really hadn’t been prepared for it either. At last, Barb would be free of that man. But that’s not what she said. Instead she asked about other details like Blaine’s education, did she have a good lawyer, was she staying in Lima, etc, etc. Barb chuckled somewhat sardonically, “You’re not even curious as to why? Or why now, T?”

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t know why. I mean, we’ve talked it to death! But who asked who first?” She’d always assumed that it would be Barb who made that move, so she was a little surprised when Barb told her it was Laine, trying not to go into all the details, but unable to help herself.

As Teresa listened to a rehashing of the scene in his office, she quietly concentrated on anything that might elude to even a trace of Laine’s secret life. Was now the time to tell Barb what she knew? Did it really matter anymore? Really, why would she need to know? At any rate, on facetime was not the place to tell her. “Why don’t you come up for a few days?” she suggested. “I’ve missed our talks and we could have some girl time!”

Barb considered it for a moment. So much of her wanted to tell Teresa about Laine’s behind the scenes life, to let out all of the frustration and hurt that she realized still lingered. But she’d promised Laine she wouldn’t tell anyone and his support and Blaine’s immediate future were on the line. She’d have to think about that, but she didn’t need to think about visiting Teresa. It might be just what the doctor ordered!

“Blaine?” the receptionist called to the waiting room. This was one of those times he wished his name was Joe or Jim. Sure, he was new to Lima, but Blaine wasn’t exactly a common name. At least they didn’t use last names. Kurt squeezed his sweaty hand, following Blaine. Blaine opened the door to Dr. Milton’s office…