Cassie sipped the espresso and waited for Tiffany to come back from the restroom.
Tiffany was her best friend, and utterly loyal. She had some minor flaws-- that outfit made her look rather slutty, for instance-- but by and large Cassie had few complaints. And since Cassie was the type of girl whose tolerance of other people's flaws shrank rather than grew as she got to know them better ... well, that was a good thing.
Tiffany tipped the remnants of her coffee into her mouth as she sat down. "So," she continued their earlier conversation, "has he made the move yet?"
"No. And it's driving me frickin' batty, Tiff."
"What's up with that?"
"I dunno. When I first met him, I was looking for a nice guy, you know-- all those other guys I dated were in it for just one thing. 'Course I knew that about them from the start. And hell, when you're eighteen, or twenty-three, or even twenty-five, that can be very fun. But I'm twenty-seven now. I need a relationship with a future, and sweatiness between the sheets is only a part of that.
"So I found Johnny, and right away I knew he was an incredibly nice guy. Not just into sex, but into my other qualities. Too, I thought. But he hasn't made any moves. Don't get me wrong, I haven't expected any, necessarily. We've only been together a month, after all. But the other night, while we were kissing, I reached my hand down his pants, and I knew he'd be skittish, and, well ... he was."
"Oook. Maybe he just doesn't like it when the girl makes the first move."
"But why hasn't he made any? I'm not ugly, I know that, but this is doing nothing for my self-esteem."
"Do you think maybe he's gay?"
"Argh! Don't say that. That's a terrible thing to say."
"Not so terrible, really, just not very good for you. Maybe good for Colin."
"Ha! I can just picture Johnny and Colin together. They'd sing showtunes together ... did I tell you Johnny knows showtunes?"
"Um, that's a big clue, Cassie."
"No." Cassie gave it a couple of seconds to mull over. "Ya think?"
"I don't know. Why don't you try again tonight?"
"Yeah, we're going to the ballet."
Tiffany arched an eyebrow.
"Stop that! I suggested it, and he only agreed to it because he's such a nice guy."
Cassie stuck her tongue out at her friend. "Well, I'd better get going."
"Good luck getting him into your panties, honey. I'm pulling for you!"
"Thanks. I'll see you later, kiddo." She hugged her friend, supposing she could be forgiven for always wearing makeup that looked like she just wanted to get fucked.
Tiffany watched her friend leave, then dove into her purse for the most whorish shade of eye shadow she could find. She applied it in the reflection from her compact, then dropped a five on the table and went off for her own night of catting.
Johnny pulled up in his Volvo, got out of the car, and carried the bouquet of roses to Cassie's door. He figured this could be the night.
When she opened the door and saw the flowers, she laughed delightedly and gave him a big kiss. He returned it with vigor, and would have slid his hands down from her back to her ass, but something stopped him. Probably not gonna make a move tonight he thought to himself. Doesn't feel right, somehow.
Instead he led her to the car, held the door for her, and kissed her on the cheek before moving around to his door, his movements smooth but his libido dimmed.
Cassie, however, was feeling horny. During the performance, she moved her hand under the program into his lap, curling it around his inner thigh. Just a little higher... she thought. She had the sneaking suspicion he would try to stop her before she got to...
And of course, then he did. Grabbed her hand, looked at her, smirked, then put her hand back in her own lap and went back to watching the show.
Cassie was mortified, but whether at her own behavior or at its rejection, she had not yet decided. She excused herself to go to the rest room so he wouldn't see her tears of shame and fury.
"Maybe he is gay," she muttered. The bastard.
Johnny watched her go, wondering why he'd stopped Cassie's dirty little paws from touching his crotch, and not finding a good answer. It had just felt like he shouldn't let her, just then. He shook his head and tried to distract himself with the stage presentation.
Three nymphs accompanied three satyrs on a romp through a fairytale forest, and the poise of the women was undeniable. But the strength of the men, their grace and power, was amazing, and he couldn't take his eyes off the dark-haired buck in the middle as he leapt and whirled, and it was to his own surprise when he found his cock stiff as a board and pounding with bloodflow, and the more he watched the men dance the worse it got. Johnny put his program over his erection, embarrassed and astonished. He looked at the women dancing in some mad effort to self-justify his arousal, and they were beautiful as ever but he found his hard-on fading.
What the fuck?
A look back at the men got him pumped again, and he wondered what it would be like to kiss that round, muscled ass, to reach around and fondle...
When Cassie returned, she found that Johnny was missing. When he, in turn, came back from his own trip to the rest room, his comment that he wasn't feeling well, and could they please go? was accepted without question.
They walked out prior to intermission, but not before Cassie caught him sneaking a glance back at the stage, where a lone man in horns and tights pranced elegantly from one side to the other.
The ride home was silent on both of their parts, and the peck she gave him on the cheek when he dropped her off said more than words could have.
"I was so embarrassed. God, I don't know why I acted that way, Tiff, but when he pushed my hand away I was, like, pissed at him, too. It's hard to explain."
"Doesn't sound hard to explain to me, Cassie. Sounds like a homo. Did he comment on the choreography?" She giggled.
"No ... but now that you mention it he did seem to be paying a lot of attention to the men on stage. God, do you think... ?"
"Yep, I do."
"What do I ... should I just ask him?"
"Nuh uh. I don't think he even knows himself. But I can tell you one person who'd know..."
"Colin? Yeah, you're right. He's got that ... whatchacallit ... gaydar. He'll know."
"Colin might steal him from you, you know. He's flaming, but he's very pretty."
"Honey, if he wants Colin, he's of no use to me. A damn shame, too, as he's good-looking and has a very fine ass."
The two tittered a bit more. "So, have you talked to him about this, since?"
"No. I think we're both too weirded out by the whole thing. I'll call him tonight and invite Colin over, too."
"I've gotta see that."
"No, you go out and do ... whatever it is you do when we're not together." Probably give head to strange men in restaurant lavatories, from the look of that halter top/skirt combo. And those ridiculous Jessica Simpson-wannabe shoes. God help her.
"Huh. Fine, be that way," she grinned. "Just call me tomorrow and tell me how it goes."
"Baby, I'll call you tonight."
"Not tonight. I've got plans. I'm going out to eat."
"Oh, anyone special?"
"Not sure yet. I'll tell you when I meet him." She winked and left the coffee shop.
Cassie shook her head and dialed Colin's cell phone.
"Helloooooo," came Colin's effeminate voice from the handset.
"Cassie-baby, I haven't heard from you in like forever. How's Puma, Pima ... whatever his name is? That swarthy fellow from the Continent."
"Poma. Oh, gawd, dumpsville. You're way out of date, Colin."
"And whose fault is that, chickie? You don't call me, or even write me a little note. I think you were trying to keep him from me."
"Yeah, I do that with all of my raging heterosexual men. Along those lines ... Well, not exactly along those lines ... listen, what are you doing tonight?"
"Going to a ball game."
"You heard me."
"But you-- how? Why?"