Class Reunion

He would've wanted it to be 'boyfriend'. Or maybe 'husband', although that was a bit thick, when he was the one that was still legally married to someone else. But it was neither. Roxanne had made it clear she wasn't interested in having a traditional relationship with him.

He knew she was right. She usually was. He was too shattered by his ongoing divorce to be able to give much of anything, and their friendship was much too valuable to both of them to jeopardize it for anything else.

But he loved her. Desperately, achingly loved her. Maybe he had never stopped, he wasn't good at letting things go. And he knew she loved him.

He knew he didn't have any right to try to own her, that it wasn't possible to own anyone anyway. But the thought of her being with someone else filled him with hot jealousy, heavy as lead and slowly boiling. He was trying to learn to live with it. She wasn't one to be possessed and he had never been one to want to possess anyone, but she invoked all kinds of feelings in him now that he'd never experienced before.

The woman standing beside him, Alexandra something-he-had-already-forgotten, was trying to discreetly inquire what kind of relationship the venerable Brandon Zimmer had with the highly esteemed Roxanne Stone. Alexandra was some sort of a glorified gossip reporter, working for one of the more respectful magazines, and Brandon had no patience with her. Their relationship was public because there was no reasonable way to keep it private when they both lived in the public eye, but he had no intention of exposing any of it to anyone.

"Oh, she's just using me for sex," he said lightly.

Alexandra choked on her drink, taken by surprise. He smiled at her, pleased with himself.

"You alright there?" he asked and eyed her as she coughed. She was maybe twenty five, really beautiful but somehow uptight in a way that told him she wouldn't be much of a delight in bed. Not that he had any interest in proving his theory. He had fucked around a lot when he was young and getting famous, but it had lost its splendor quickly enough. After he'd married Shirley he'd tried hard to stay monogamous, not that it had succeeded all that well. Now he had eyes for no one else besides Roxie, and he hoped really hard it would be true in reverse as well.

Roxanne was done with the group of money she'd been talking with and was now walking across the room towards him. He took in her glamour, she had a tight fitting black cocktail dress and diamonds were dazzling in her ears and neck. Her long, dark hair was tied up skillfully with only a single curl lowering beside her ear. The dimple in her right cheek was showing, it didn't appear if she did a polite almost-smile but now she had a wide genuine one on her beautiful face.

She walked up to him and kissed him, sliding her hands under his jacket. He responded, pressed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer against him.

"How're you holding up?" she asked.

"I was just telling this nice young lady here how you're just using me for sex," he said and nodded towards the reporter.

"Did you now, you bad boy," she said and a smile flickered on her lips. "I might have to punish you later."

"Yes, mistress," he answered meekly and lowered his eyes to her perfect cleavage.

The young woman blushed and excused herself. They watched her go and tried not to giggle too loudly.

"You shouldn't bait them like that," she said and nudged his side. "I might have to spank you for real if you don't stop."

"Think I would like it?" he asked.

"Well if it's a punishment the point is not for you to like it, is it?" she asked and smiled at him. "Really, are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Never better. Don't worry about me."

She gave him a look that told him she would, no matter what he said. But she walked off again, letting the next group of sharks surround her and nibble at her glory.

He had meant what he said. He didn't enjoy these types of parties, but being just the companion was way more manageable than being the one in the spotlight. He could bide his time for a few more hours, letting her do her thing.

The preceding months had been hard on him. His divorce was messy and got messier when the news got out that after their class reunion he hadn't returned home but followed Roxie to hers. His divorce had been public knowledge before that, but the gossip didn't really start until after he and Roxie got together. He didn't know why, his marriage had ended over his not-very-secret side relationships after all, but sometimes gossip media followed logic he couldn't understand.

In retrospect he suspected he'd had some sort of a mental breakdown when they met. His divorce was hard on him and he didn't have an actual support network, no real friends to confide in. When he had met Roxie and she had offered him the kind of absolute empathy and support she did he had just collapsed.

She had carried him through the worst of it. She had taken him home with her and even cancelled some of her responsibilities to just be there for him. He couldn't stay with her, of course, but after the week he had been able to spare he had been just strong enough to keep his head above the water and face his duties without losing his mind.

They had kept contact over the phone when they weren't physically together. He had never been one to talk on the phone for hours but now, with her, he discovered he could do that. And they'd traveled to see each other whenever they had the time. They still hadn't met each other's kids, but he was going to meet her daughter Tracy later this week.

He had arrived in New York earlier that day and she had offered for him to skip this party, but he had said he'd rather be there with her than in her place alone. Her assistant had arranged formal wear for him and now he was here, slowly getting drunk, observing the scene from the outskirts for once.

Tall, black man walked casually closer. He was stylish, very muscular, half a head taller than him and so bulky Brandon felt dwarfed and nearly intimidated. The man eyed him coolly.

"So, you're Brandon," he said. His voice was low and gravelly. "I'm Fred."

He extended his hand and Brandon shook it automatically.

"Fred?" he said, astonished. "You mean as in her ex Fred?"

"Yes," the black giant said.

It had never occurred to him Fred would be anything but white. He wondered why and if it made him a racist.

"Oh," Brandon said and looked up at him. "So what, you're here to beat me up? Because you look like you could wipe the table with me."

Fred chortled. "Can't say that hasn't crossed my mind."

"Okay," Brandon said. "Let me just take this jacket off first, I think it's a rental. It would be a shame to get blood and gore on it."

They looked at each other. The corner of Fred's mouth twitched, and at the same second they burst out laughing. It was polite and subdued, quiet enough not to attract attention, Fred was apparently just as adept in attending these sorts of pretentious parties as he was. The ice was broken just the same.

"Can I offer you a drink?" Fred said.

"Sure, I'll take the most expensive whiskey since you're paying," Brandon shot back, it was an open bar occasion and they both knew it.

They moved a little to the side of the bar and started talking. They got along like a house on fire, Fred was witty and funny and it was effortless to discuss with him.

Roxanne came to check up on Brandon an hour later, and it was difficult to interpret from her expression what she thought about them hanging out together. She didn't comment on it, she came to touch Brandon and kiss him lightly like she had before, asking if he was still okay. She exchanged a few words with Fred, politely enough, and walked away again. They both watched her go.

"So, tell me," Brandon said, turning back to Fred. "Is it true that you messed up her class reunion because of me?"

Fred grunted. "Yeah," he admitted. "Not my noblest moment. But yes I did."

"But," Brandon said, gesturing feebly. He didn't know what to ask or how to comment without sounding like he was insulting Fred. He was afraid Shirley would end up just as petty, even years after their divorce would be finalized.

"I'm not that jealous of a person," Fred said. "And yes, we've been separated for years already. But you're just that important to her. You know that?"

"Umm...what?" Brandon managed.

"She told me about your relationship," Fred said. "We shared everything with each other, once upon a time. What you had was really special for her, as I suppose it must've been for you. She always talked so highly of you. Now I know you haven't been in contact, but somehow...somehow I was afraid it would end up just like this if you met. And maybe she did, too, at least she went through the trouble to find out if you were attending before she chose to participate at all. And I guess I'd still like to have her all to myself, even when I know that ship has sailed a long time ago."

Brandon had even less to say to this. He stared at Fred, then his drink, blinking slowly.

"Sorry, man," Fred said, getting up from the barstool. "Didn't mean to upset you. It's not a conversation for a place like this. You lose focus and the sharks will get you."

He eyed the room coolly.

"Yeah, exactly," Brandon said, astonished to hear him use the same metaphor he did internally.

"Listen, I'm just glad you seem like a decent guy. You'll be hanging out with my daughter, after all," Fred said.

They shook hands again and Brandon thought his kids might end up with a step dad, or knowing Shirley, a series of step dads, and he didn't know how he was going to handle it. He wasn't jealous of Shirley, not the way he was jealous of Roxie, but he realized he didn't want other men in his kids' lives, not like that.

Fred walked away and he was left sitting alone, wondering if one more would be one too many.

--#--#--#--#--#--

Brandon held Roxie at the backseat of the limo on the way to her place. She was tired, she leaned on his shoulder and yawned. He held her carefully not to mess up her hair, even when it wasn't necessary anymore. He liked it when she was so dressed up, although to be fair he liked her in any attire.

"So, Fred," she said. "Should've guessed he'd be there, after all it's his scene as well."

"He seemed like a nice guy," he said and nuzzled her temple gently. "Although I was sure he was gonna rough me up at first. Goddamn he is big."

"Yeah, such a cliche, isn't it? Big black man," she said with a smirk.

"Oh, you mean..."

"Yes, he is...stereotypical," she said. She let the silence pool out between them until the air felt heavy with it. "So does it bother you?" she asked. "To know he's bigger than you?"

"He is?" he asked although he had caught her innuendo. He hadn't really thought about big cocks so much in his life. Big, black cocks even less. He was happy with what he had, and no one had ever complained about him being too small. Not that they would, to his face, he suspected. "So...you've been comparing?"

She sighed and pressed closer to him. "No, not really," she said.

"But you just thought to bring it up. What do you want me to do? Cry? Get angry?"

He wasn't offended but he thought it was a little peculiar. He didn't know why she would bring up such a thing.

"It doesn't get any bigger, you know," he said and now he was doing all he could not to laugh. "I can't will it bigger or anything. Although I've gotten some enticing emails that promise me extra length and girth if I just pay outrageous amounts of money for it. Think I should try?"

"Nah, you twat," she said but she was laughing now as well, and they leaned into each other and giggled for a bit.

They got to her house and got out. Hers was an apartment building with a doorman, and they smiled at him and didn't continue talking until they were in the elevator.

"It's not just the cock," she said. "He really is a nice guy."

"I believe you," he said. She looked at him, a little incredulous, and he continued, "We talked for some time. And even if we hadn't, I'd have a hard time believing you'd fall for someone I disliked completely. I bet he's clever and funny, as well. And knows how to use that monster cock of his."

She chortled but didn't seem really amused.

"Yeah, he did, does," she said. "You know we've had some...done it even after we divorced."

"Yeah?" he said as they stepped into her apartment. She seemed really determined to discuss her ex's outstanding genitals with him and he wondered why. He felt like there was more to this conversation than he realized, some level he didn't reach. He decided to humor her and discuss it, and also he supposed it was the only way out of the conversation. She was startlingly stubborn at times.

"So are you saying you would've wanted to take him home tonight? I can leave if you wanna."

He stood in the hall, his coat still on. She looked at him, then away.

"It's not what I meant."

"Well what did you mean, then? I'm not really getting why you wanna rub his giant cock in my face."

He wasn't angry, he wasn't trying to escalate things. She looked at him but didn't say anything. She took her heels off and walked towards the kitchen for water and snacks before going to sleep. He admired her easy grace, the way her hips moved, her slender neck and shoulders that were seldom exposed like this. He wanted to kiss her at the nape of her neck.

They washed up and started to undress. He watched as she removed her jewelry and boxed it away.

"Can I let your hair down?" he asked, and she nodded and sat down in front of the dressing table. He stepped behind her and started to remove the hairpins, setting them on the table one by one, combing her hair with his fingers as it came undone. She watched him work via the mirror.

"So what does Shirley look like?" she asked.

"Haven't you seen pictures of her?" he asked. "If not, I'll show you someday. I don't know how to describe her to you."

He had removed all the pins and now he just spread her hair on her back, gently dragging his fingers through it.

"But I'm not gonna discuss her genitalia with you," he said and smiled, meeting her eyes in the mirror. He meant it as a joke, but it still didn't clear the weird vibe between them.

He unzipped her dress from the back and she stood up and let it flow off her. She removed her underwear, not making a show out of it, simply undressing. He took off his rental suit and the rest of his clothes. He liked sleeping naked with her.

"Enjoy this while you can," she said as she snuggled her warm, round ass closer to his crotch when he was spooning her. "We need to have something on when Tracy's here. She can barge in unannounced, although she's old enough to know better. No manners on that one, I wonder who raised her."

"Okay," he said and kissed her shoulder. "Is it on Tuesday she's coming?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Are you okay with me meeting her?" he asked. "Like really? Fred didn't seem too pleased about it."

"I wouldn't have invited you over now if I didn't mean it," she said.

"That's what I thought," he said. "But you're being weird tonight. Was it seeing Fred that threw you off?"

She wriggled a little and his penis responded by firming up a little and pressing between her ass.

"Oh look, my pitiful small shrimp of a cock likes you," he whispered into her ear. She chortled.

"There's nothing wrong with your cock."

"I didn't think there was. You know, Roxie, I've been with women. Like a lot of women. Not that many men, mind you, so it's not like I can really compare, even as I've seen a fair amount of penises in my life. But I'm pleased with what I have and I don't remember anyone complaining."

"You've been with men?"

"Not that many. Maybe ten. But yeah, I have."

"Ten's not many?"

"No. Comparatively. Because when it comes to women, well I haven't kept count but I think it must be in hundreds."

"Well maybe you should've kept count," she said and her tone was indeterminable. He graced her hairline behind her ear with his lips.

"Why?" he whispered.

"To see which one of us is a bigger slut," she said. "Because I've done my share. Not that many women, though."

"You've been with women?" He asked quietly and reached to kiss the side of her neck. She turned a little towards him.

"Yeah," she said. "Maybe ten."

She turned her head to see him. Their eyes met in the gloom of the room, they smiled at each other and then they kissed. She turned fully towards him and tangled her legs with his, pressing against him.

They kissed, and it progressed with a steady, dreamy pace towards making love. He slid his hand down along her side, tracing the wonderful curve of her hip, then back up her thigh on the inside, sweeping her mound lightly. He thought he could crack a joke about how wet all this talk of their past lovers was making her, but they were still kissing and he didn't want to stop.

She touched him as well, and they kept the kiss going until he pushed into her, slowly and gently. She was wet but he took time to rock back and forth in tiny increments, lubricating himself off her. He rocked his hips against hers and finally broke the kiss. He looked at her, kissing her face with small, tender kisses.

"I missed you so much," he said and started moving. "This feels like coming home."

He went slow, taking time to nudge her pelvis with hers with each gentle push. He kept low, close to her, grinding his body against her. She raised her hips to meet him and let out a small sound.

"Do you like that?" he asked and nudged her again. "Did you do that with Fred? Or was he so big you couldn't get all of him in you?"

He nudged her again and again, keeping the rhythm of his leisurely movement.

"Why would you try to make me envy his cock? Do you think I should want to be him? Why?" he asked, whispering to her ear. Then he sucked on her earlobe lightly.

He raised his head to see her eyes.

"Oh, I see," he said. "He was envious of me, was he?"

She didn't answer but he understood now.

"But why would he be?" he asked, still moving in her, from close to closer, not pulling out that much. "He was with you, he had you, he was married to the most wonderful woman alive. And he has that monster dick. And I was ancient history."

"Brandon," she said quietly. He kissed her cheek from her jaw to her temple.

"Tell me," he said quietly. "You know you need to."

She squeezed him with her pussy and he let out a surprised breath. She tried to speed him up, make him thrust faster and longer, but he was so close she didn't have room to maneuver it. He didn't succumb to her but kept his rhythm.

"Tell me," he said. His weight was on his elbows but he moved his hands to take hold of her head, to cradle it in his hands. He looked her in the eyes and moved against her, inside her.

"Tell me Roxie. Tell me what you told him about me that made him so jealous. Was he jealous of all your countless sex partners? He wasn't, was he? Because if he was like that he wouldn't have been with you."

"Augh, Brandon," she said pleadingly.

"Tell me," he whispered against her lips.

"I want you to do me harder," she said. "Fuck me Brandon."

"No."

He kept his rhythm.

"No? What do you mean no?" She whimpered and dug her fingers in his glutes, trying to make him go faster.

"No I won't," he said. "I'm gonna make love with you. Once you've told me about Fred."

She let out an incredulous, exasperated moan.

"I can't believe you," she said.

"Tell me Roxie."

"Oh fuck off!" she said and shoved him.

"I'll stop if you want me to. I'll leave if you want me to. You know that."

He stopped moving, deep inside her. She didn't ask him to stop. Or leave. After a pause he continued his slow, slow small thrusts.