Best Gay Erotica 2015 by Rob Rosen Page B

announcement. Fingers pinched my big toe and I drew up my leg, curling into a ball because I wanted no part of noon or any other time. “Come on, sunshine, the day beckons whether you like it or not.”
    Go away , I thought. Fuck off. Leave me alone. More phrases came to mind, but none got through the pain of a headache and the gunk in my mouth. My tongue felt so awful I’d have tossed it out if I could. Then a hand was on my bottom, patting gently. “Wakey, wakey,” urged my keeper. “I think a hot shower is in order or maybe a warm bath. Anything to rinse the smell off you. Come on, open those baby blues.”
    It had to be Jeff. Was this his bed or mine? Oh Christ. I opened my eyes and there he was, washed and smiling like he’d had the best night of his life. No, not Jeff. Even drunk I wouldn’t. Would I?
    When he tried to get me up, I pushed him off, which broke through his good humor. “Listen, Alex, you’re in my bed and you’re smelling up the room, so get the fuck up or I’ll drag you out by your dick.”
    â€œYou and who else?”
    A hand went around my ankle, the grip iron, and I was yanked to full length, then pulled to the floor and left there. “Two minutes,” Jeff said. “You’re up and moving or you’ll be sorry.”
    I wanted to challenge further, but wanted more not to be sorry, so I got to my feet, which sent my stomach to the depths. I ran for the bathroom and attempted to throw up, but found myself empty of all but a putrid bile. “You gave it all up last night,” Jeff said from the doorway. “Take some water so you’ll have something in there.” He handed me a glass and I downed it, thirst now overwhelming. “Now get in the shower and clean up.” He handed me a towel and retreated, leaving the door open. I closed it, then turned on the water and stepped in.
    The shower revived enough of me to function, and I found a fresh toothbrush to scrape away the gunk in my mouth. I recalled the reception, which ran like a badly cut movie. Dick sucking, Adele’s big laugh, Vance Basch. I thought of Bill and Keith playing house in their hotel suite. When I glanced in the mirror, I saw myself dragging, which led me to add up all I’d done. Jay Costigan, Keith, that waiter. Not a bad time, I decided as I dressed. I then went to find Jeff.
    â€œTea and toast,” he said from behind his kitchen’s tiny peninsula. It was the only eating spot in his studio apartment. I settled onto a stool and sipped the tea, which, after half a cup, worked its magic. “Some party,” I managed.
    â€œYou could say that,” replied Jeff. He stood-leaned against the counter opposite, cup in hand, studying me like he was about to pronounce sentence. Which he did. “Quite a time for you,” he began. “How many was it? I only know about Jay Costigan, but doubt that was enough. Who else?”
    â€œThat’s private,” I said. “Public sex is far from private.”
    â€œHow’d you know about me and Jay?”
    â€œI followed you into the bathroom because I knew what you were up to. Jay went in first and you’d been eyeing him.”
    â€œThat all you do, Abby? Watch others have a good time?” “You may have fucked Jay Costigan,” Jeff shot back, “but you weren’t having a good time.”
    â€œKeith sucked my dick on the way to the wedding.”
    This got a shake of the head, then the hard look usually seen on the faces of mothers. “You’re so destructive,” he finally said.
    â€œI sucked off a waiter in the garage, too, cute sandy-haired number, nice dick.”
    â€œEat your toast.”
    He went off into his living-bedroom combination, which was just as well. The last thing I wanted was anybody attempting to rearrange things into their version of right. When I’d finished my tea and toast and found my stomach pleased rather than