My parents are throwing another business-related event in the pool house and like always I’ve been ordered to stay away. I’m not to interfere with dad’s clients in any way. Or I should say my stepdad’s clients. As for mom, well, she’s in entertainer mode which is her way of staying a supportive and doting house wife. She has no independent thought of her own, but that’s good because it means where my stepdad is, she’ll be close by. This makes it easy to sneak in and steal a bottle of alcohol for me to have a party of my own; a party of one.

As long as they don’t see me, everything is fine. I’ve been doing it for years. Outside of parties, they keep the liquor locked up, which is comical because it only creates problems for them when they try to get into the cabinet while already toasted. Alright, only mom has that problem. My stepdad keeps his own stash in his office that’s easily accessible to him, which remains locked when he isn’t inside it. You’d think they didn’t trust their sixteen-year-old son or something. What do they think; that I’d steal it given the chance? Imagine that!

I’m doing recon on the party goers and finding that a good many of them are already inebriated enough to not likely notice a teenager slipping through their audience. It’s a bunch of suits and cocktail dresses and I’m fairly invisible to them anyway, especially to my parents. When I was younger it was fine. I had nannies and such to keep me company. Now that I’m sixteen those things are no more. I have a few ‘friends,’ but they’re usually traveling with their families or housing the next big party that for some reason I’m not allowed to attend. It’s like my parents want me to always be home, despite not spending a moment with me. Do they have any idea how lonely I am? Do they even care?

In this crowd, I probably stand out more for what I’m wearing than for my age, but over the course of the evening my father has offered libations and gifts that make a group like this overlook damn near anything. I feel like I could streak through them and they would pretend to have not seen it just for the sake of maintaining formalities with my stepdad.

I walk in from the back entrance like I own the place, a far cry from the truth.  There’s a full kitchen counter loaded with enough drink choices to kill every liver in the place. Hmm, vodka, tequila, or gin?

Feeling partial to an energetic drunk I grab the tequila. Second thought, vodka makes for a happy drunk. Screw it. I grab them both. Two hands, two bottles. It just makes sense.

Once I’ve slipped back outside, I aim to go around back and re-enter the main house through the promenade entrance. Some suited asshole gets in my way.

“That’s a lot of booze for one kid.”

Urgh.

I lie through my teeth. “Low brand quality. I was replacing it with something more suitable from our stock.”

He laughs which tells me that he doesn’t believe me and that he’s just amused enough not to rat me out, at least not yet.

“That’s good BS. You’re Jack’s son, aren’t you?”

Jack is my stepfather.

“Stepson if we’re getting technical.” I’m a little snarky, but what does this guy care? He probably won’t remember this conversation in the morning.

“He said you could be a little shit.”

What the fuck!? A million things run through my head and the least of which is how much I now hate this guy and Jack for having said such a thing to him.

“What the fuck do you know?!”

He takes out a pack of cigarettes, taps them against the side of the house and then pulls one out.

“Look, I don’t give a damn if you drink or cause your stepfather problems. I was your age too once. How old are you exactly?”

He lights the cigarette and then offers it to me. Not wanting to seem too immature to handle it, I take it from him. He pulls another from his pack.

“Sixteen.”

He steps beside me and leans in real close. I put the cigarette between my lips, not actually knowing what the hell I’m doing with it. I inhale as he places the end of his cigarette against my own. I’ve seen that much from the movies.

As the smoke and nicotine hit my lungs, the man responds. “Hmm, so you’re legal.”

Not sure if it’s his words or the smoke, I break out into a cough. What the fuck man? Is he talking about sex? Yeah, I’m legal in our state but what does that matter to you? Men don’t have sex with other men.

Wait. Maybe he isn’t talking about sex. Stupid teenage guy minds always go there. I’m sure that’s not what he’s referencing. Of course, he knows I can’t smoke or drink at sixteen so what else is there?

“Legal for what?” I ask it bluntly.

He smirks at me. “Sex. Don’t tell me you’re a virgin?”

Well of course I am. How many guys are having sex at my age? Okay. A lot of guys are having sex my age; just not shut-ins like me because of parents that think I’m a wall painting rather than a live being.

“Of course I’m not.” I lie again. “It’s none of your business anyway.”

He laughs once more. “You guys have a hot tub off the rec room, right?”

“Why?” He seems to know our house well. Who is this guy?

“Because I could go for a dunk. Do you want to join me? We can get started on that vodka together. I’ll grab a second bottle so it doesn’t dip into your stash.”

The fact that I’m getting more booze out of the deal and company which is few and far between in my world, convinces me to go along with it.

“Sure.”

He puts out his cigarette. “Wait here.”

That guy better not be going to get my parents to tell them that I stole alcohol. I’ll totally throw him under the bus for getting me to smoke.

I put out my cigarette and hide it under a flower pot. I’ll figure out how to smoke that later.

When the guy returns, he’s holding three bottles of fun inducing liquor and I can’t help but smile. He looks so guiltless and he nudges my shoulder. “Come on; let’s get out of here before we’re caught.”         

This guy is pretty cool. Retrieving my two bottles, we make our way into the house.

I guide us to the rec room. When I start to retrieve glasses, he grabs my hand.

“Naw, you don’t want more evidence. Drink from the bottle.” He pops one open and takes a swig.

When he hands it to me, I do the same, trying not to let it show that it burns going down. No doubt my face betrays me.

Leading with the bottle in hand, he takes it to the hot tub room beside the sauna. “You coming?”

Stripping his clothes, he enjoys periodic sips from the bottle. I don’t want to be seen as weak, so I mimic him. When he undresses down to his briefs, I do also. Then, he removes them too.

He’s butt naked when sliding into the water. My heart races because that’s not normal. What guy strips totally down to sit in the hot tub with another guy? It makes my cheeks flush. It feels weird.

“You coming in or are you going to stand there all night?” As if those are the only two options, pal.

His stare is direct when I slide my boxers off. It kind of excites my boy down there which makes me uncomfortable. What the hell is with the sudden warmth in the air? Maybe it’s the moisture from the hot tub. Yeah, that makes sense. I cover myself with my hand as I dip into the water.

Coaxing me, he teases. “You’re not bashful, are you?” He floats beside me, closely.

My mouth goes dry. “No. I’ve just never skinny dipped with a man before.”

“I bet there’s a lot of stuff you’ve never done with a man before that you’d enjoy.”

I step into his trap. “Oh yeah, like what?”

Between the bubbles of the hot tub and my being nervous it takes me a moment to realize his hand is traveling up my thigh. My heart races and my breathing increases.

Trying not to get too excited, I take in his appearance. His dark brown hair is professionally cut short and he has deep blue eyes. The thing that stands out about him the most is how luscious his lips are. I don’t think I’ve noticed anyone’s lips in the past, but his demand attention. He has a strong build that’s more obvious without the clothes.

I’ve never messed around before. No one has ever liked me like that. Now, this well-to-do attractive thirty something year old man is giving me his undivided attention; that kind of attention.

I gasp as he grips that part of me.

Leaning in, he whispers. “Does that feel good?”

My body slightly shakes at his touch. Is that normal? Is he going to think something is wrong with me?

“Uh, huh.” It’s a raspy response. I’m not sure consonants will come out right now.

“Come here.” He holds my face in his hand and kisses me. It’s my first kiss. There’s tongue and it keeps going forever. How do we breathe while doing this?

He pauses and I use it to refill my lungs with oxygen. I feel like I’m becoming unstable yet he’s perfectly put together. His eyes stare into mine like it’s necessary to maintain mind control or something. Do men really do this together? It seems wrong. I don’t even know his name.

Like an idiot, I blurt that out as if it matters in this very second.

“I don’t know your name.”

Rather than thinking me a nut loose, he grins at me. “Max. My name is max.”

When he resumes kissing me, he sinks his body lower into the water, pulling me over on top of him so that our chests are against one another. It’s the first that I touch him. One of my arms falls onto his chest and the other lands behind his neck. On the backside of my body, I can feel his dick hardening along my butt crack. My body shudders in his embrace and tenses up.

Over the sounds of my breathing, he reassures me. “It’s alright.” He kisses along my neck and holds my body closer against him, running his hands all over me. I feel him on the back of my neck and across my back, and along my hips. It’s amazing, like I’m a holiday tree that’s been lit up. Then, he grips my ass cheek and runs a finger along my crack. I jolt up, but he holds me in his lap. “Relax, Kris. I’ll make sure everything feels good. I’ll make sure you enjoy this. Relax your body and let me explore you.”

The perversity of his demand mixed with his other hand going back to stroking my dick elicit a response from my body that’s embarrassing. I let out a moan of encouragement.

Humiliated, I lean my head into his chest. This time when his finger explores me, I let him coax me into the pleasure he swears is coming. “Yes, just like that, Kris. Let it feel good. Give me permission to keep going. Tell me yes. I won’t go any further without your consent.”

A jolt of something new electrifies inside me from where his hand explores at the threshold.

Gripping hold of the back of his neck, I give him what’s needed so that I don’t lose the sensations he’s built across my body.

“Yes.”

When he takes his finger explorations deeper, I’m brought to life and consumed at the same time. This isn’t how sex is supposed to be, but then why does this feel good? Strange, but exciting.

What am I doing?

If I stopped him, would he tell my parents about the stolen alcohol? Would he tell them that I’ve already done this much? Do I even want him to stop?

No. As absurd as it is, I want this. I’m sixteen now and I’m mature enough to make my own decisions. This man, whoever he is, has strayed away from the party to be with me. He isn’t here for my parents. He’s here with me. I’m more important.

I’ve never been important.

He whispers into my ear. “I’m staying in the guest house tonight. Will you stay with me, Kris?”

I know what he’s inviting me for and it isn’t hot cocoa and a movie. He wants me. Someone in this world actually wants me.

“Yes.”

It’s the second of several ‘yeses’ I offer him that night.

When I wake up the next morning to him shaking me, I let the warmth of his hand on my back thrill me. Every touch and moment of last night saturates me with a sense of value. This man has done for my self-esteem in a single night what a lifetime before it hasn’t.

Max. What does this mean for us?

When he gets out of the bed, it’s like something is stripped away from me and missing. There’s emptiness where his body was only a moment before. Yet I get to see him in the sunlight in all his naked glory. I wouldn’t have thought to check him out before, but having slept with him I can appreciate the attraction that he radiates to the world. It’s not that he’s cut or anything, but he’s tall with large hands which felt so damn good on, and yes in, me. That’s a thought I never imagined having.

“Morning.”

He smiles. “You have to go. I need to shower and get dressed to leave.”

Go? But, does that mean he doesn’t want to see me anymore? Surely not. You don’t share that kind of intimate night with just anyone.

I offer him what he hasn’t asked for. “Do you want my number?”

He laughs. “Your number? No. Why would I want your number?”

“So, you could contact me.”

“I won’t be contacting you, Kris. I’m married.”

What?! Married?!

What the fuck?

Did last night mean nothing to him? What the fuck was that? Did he use me or did I do something wrong?

His rejection hits me like a ton of bricks to the stomach. It deflates every positive thought that was swirling in my mind only a moment before. I can hardly breathe. Rather than the racing of my heart that he inspired only hours ago, now it’s like it’s stopped beating all together. It slows to the point of robbing me of life.

Max brushes it off. “What did you expect? I can’t be caught sleeping with a sixteen-year-old guy. Oh, and if you get the brilliant idea of telling anyone about this, I’ll deny everything. It’s in your best interest to keep your mouth shut.”

A wall of shame and heartbreak slams into me.

I meant absolutely nothing to him. I mean so little that he’s threatening me to keep it locked away. It’s my first time doing anything with anyone and it’s as meaningless to him as a change of his socks.

I grab my clothes. I don’t want him to see that this is destroying me. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction. I fake it.

“Of course. I’m not an idiot. Like I’d want anyone to know an old guy like you had your hands on me.” I step towards the door. “By the way, you can’t suck dick for shit.”

I fight the urge to slam the door once I’m on the other side of it. That’s where I put my clothes on and pretty much run back to my own bedroom.

Once there, I fall apart and cry.

That son of a bitch!

I don’t even know who he is, but I never want to see him again.