Little Black Book

For Norty

The chair was supremely comfortable; he wouldn’t have it any other way. Plush ,almost overstuffed, burgundy velvet lovingly held on to the red head. He was draped across it, gazing out the window, one hand on a small black book filled with names, numbers and notations.

It was one of those late Friday afternoons. There were no pressing things for him to do all weekend and he could choose to simply sit here for the next two days and no one would be the wiser. Of course, he wouldn’t, but just luxuriating in the feeling of excess and freedom was enough.

Soon enough he would get itchy and have to decide if he actually planned on calling any of the people he had carefully selected to make it into his crammed book. Every name was heavily appointed with commentary. He wouldn’t want to call Robin and suddenly remember she was the one he had stood up two weeks ago. It helped to be organized.

Finally tiring of lethargy, he pulled from its sheath a sleek black pen. The type that screamed ‘I was expensive and require special bought ink refills’ and tapped it against lush lips. He flipped through manila pages with his other hand, running a long lean finger down smooth pages, mentally weighing each candidate.

The pen dipped into between his lips and clacked against his teeth. His eyes lost focus on the paper, his mind set on wandering for a bit longer. Nothing in particular caught his attention, so it drifted to the gorgeous man he had met the week before, in the drug store of all places. Seemed like such a nice boy, but he was definitely in the wrong aisle for a nice boy.

Such beautiful brown eyes! And just the slightest blush looking at the rows of condoms and lubrication.

"Can I help you?" He had purred, the boy had jumped and turned the most delightful shade of red.

"Umm. Do you work here?"

He’d laughed, turning the boy even redder.

"No, but I this is something of my expertise."

"Oh." Long pause while Tybalt tried to catch the boy’s lovely brown eyes.

"Your girlfriend usually buys?" He was in another of his strange moods that day and it seemed like a natural question right then. Now, the boy didn’t seem embarrassed, but proud.

"My husband. He’s been gone for a week and well…." The boy seemed to change his mind about spilling to a perfect stranger. Husband? Tybalt looked closer and could just make out faint signs of age, but he knew that this man defiantly had to produce i.d. every time.

"You want to be prepared." Tybalt smiled at him. "How charming."

With a knowing hand, Tybalt made a few choices and handed them to the again blushing boy, purposely brushing hands.

"Thanks."

"Oh, you’re more then welcome. Name’s Tybalt."

"Skids."

"That’s a very unusual name…"

Well ‘Skids’ had apparently decided he had suffered enough terminal embarrassment and turned tail to run. Tybalt had watched him go, enjoying the departing view, shaken his head to clear it and took his time choosing his own product. By the time he got to the checkout line, Skids was long gone, so he took his pleasure in scandalizing the checkout girl.

The scene replayed in his mind and he mused if the man’s partner was as easy on the eyes. Decided it wasn’t possible and returned his attention to the black book in front of him. Came to Harley’s name with the big skull and crossbones next to it, reflexively rubbed his nose. Who knew Mik would learn how to use resources like that Allen fellow? Miscalculation.

Finally he settled on someone and picked up his phone, graceful fingers dialed rapidly. Cradling the phone between his neck and face he waited until a familiar voice picked up.

"Hello?" British accent light against his ear.

"Spike. It’s me. Can I come over?"

"Bloody hell, pet. When, where and should I put down the plastic mat again?"

()()

Two bodies lay intertwined, sated on the bed.

"And he said something about my name being unusual, but I was already leaving." Skids finished. He was lying scooped into Cya’s chest while the Latino laced fingers through his hair and listened, laughing slightly, to the short encounter.

"Maybe you should have kept at it. He probably would have bought the condoms for you."

"Cyanide!"

"What? I was joking!" He protested when Skids slapped his lover’s stomach with an open palm.

"He was just weird that’s all…"

"Nah. You just aren’t used to other guys hitting on you. I’ve scared ‘em all away."

"I don’t like flirting with anyone, but you and Mikhael."

"Good. Wait! Rasputin!?"

Cyanide half sat up, upsetting his lover from his comfortable sprawl.

"Just making sure you were listening."

"Not nice to play with your jealous husband." Cyanide growled and attacked the squealing mass of Skids in horrible tickle torture.