Dedication
For Lyn Lucas, Judy Peddle, Tena, Laurie, Lyn, & Jan
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 3
Chapter 1 “I
CAN’T believe you did this without my permission!” Nick
was fuming. He couldn’t imagine the audacity of his best friend, roommate, and cowriter. “I’ll tell you what gives me the right. I’ve been watching you work, work, work all day and all night without going on a single date in as long as I can remember.” Ken stood with his hands on his hips like some put-upon housewife. “It’s paid off, hasn’t it? We have two plays running Off Broadway and two in production. Not too shabby for two thirty-five-year-old men from Upstate New York.” Nick pushed his shaggy, too-long hair off his forehead and rubbed his temples. “But you’re a healthy man, too, and you need some companionship. I worry about you. You’re becoming a hermit.” “I’m not becoming a hermit! I went out just two nights ago.” “With our producer and his wife. Even if she is his beard, what is he, like seventy-two years old? Hardly fucking fodder.” “Give it up with the cute alliterations. I’m not impressed.” Nick stared at the computer screen again. The profile of the newest, upcoming online dating service for gays, The Male Room, was plastered across the screen. Below it was the list of their newest clients. Next to his
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 4 assigned number, he glared once again at the lead to his blurb: “Hot, hunky homo with fantastic imagination.” “It’s the truth. You are hot to people who aren’t your BFF.” “Stop talking in computereze. I may puke.” “Well, I may puke if I have to leave you here alone one more time while I actually have a social life. At least one of us is dating.” “I date. What about that guy last Saturday night?” “What was his name?” Ken smirked, his eyes bright as he realized he was about to prove his point. Nick stood up from his chair at the computer desk, and crossed the room to stand directly in front of Ken. “I don’t remember. We only had one date.” “It’s not a date if all you do is dance for five minutes, get a blow job, and then leave without exchanging names or phone numbers. I believe, if my off-computereze is still up to date, that’s called tricking, my friend.” Nick ground his teeth. “Shut up.” “The truth hurts, honey.” Ken’s voice softened. “Look, how can you write about romance and love if you never give yourself a chance to experience it?” “I guess it’s a good thing you’re my writing partner. You can fill in all those blanks.” Nick brushed his hand through his hair. He really did need a haircut. His hair was too wavy to let it go this long. He knew he was beginning to look like an out-of-date hippy. “Job security is great. But I don’t think my place in this partnership would suffer if you actually had some life
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 5 experience.” Ken put his arm around Nick’s shoulders. The two men stood silently side-by-side. “I did try the love route once. You must remember.” Nick bit his lip, thinking back to a time when he thought he’d found the man he could spend the rest of his life with. “Oh, Nicky, how could I forget? That asshole was buried so deep in his self-made closet that, instead of marrying the person he loved, he married the person his parents loved. If my mother’s gossip is still accurate, his wife is pregnant with their third child.” “I can’t go through something like that again.” Nick hated sounding defeated, but he knew his words and feelings were safe with Ken. “That’s why you start with an online dating service that caters to men like us.” “And who’s to say one of these guys isn’t in the closet?” “The pictures. Everyone has to submit a picture. Let’s face it. People in the closet do not want to advertise at a homo site. They’re looking for anonymous hook-ups.” Nick looked in a nearby mirror. It was summer in Manhattan, and his tan was perfect, achieved the old fashioned way, through hours of jogging. He was kind of hot. At just shy of six feet tall, he had a six pack, and his arms were toned. Despite approaching middle age, he even still had all his hair. “Okay.” Ken’s eyes brightened as if he had just won a prize. “Okay what?” “Okay, we’ll see if I get any nibbles worth a dinner.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 6 “You’ll get plenty. And then we can finally double-date like we’d always planned.” “I thought you were doing this for me.” Nick grinned. “I’m doing this for you, your writing, and our mutual social lives. Could there be a better set of motivators?” “You know, you can be such a geek.” Nick poked Ken in the ribs. “I may be a geek, but I’m a geek with a boyfriend and a successful career.” Ken winked. “Now it’s time to work on my fabulous physique. Keeping up a swimmer’s build isn’t easy after you turn twenty-eight.” “Twenty-eight?” Nick snorted. “I feel twenty-eight; therefore I am twenty-eight.” Ken spun around as if modeling the jeans and wife-beater he was wearing. “Sometimes you can be so gay.” “Bobby loves it that way.” “By the way, how old did you make me in my profile, since I haven’t dared to read it yet?” Ken looked away and started running toward his bedroom. “Gotta go. The gym waits for no man, and I have a date tonight—a real date.” Nick opened up his online profile at The Male Room. His eyes widened. “Thirty!” He yelled loud enough for Ken to hear him in his bedroom. “How come you get to be twenty-eight and I’m thirty?” “You’ll look and feel much younger once you start dating. Besides, I always think of you as more mature anyway.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 7 “Asshole!” “Get a man, one whose name is worth remembering.” After putting on a T-shirt and Vans, Ken grabbed his gym bag and started to walk out the door. “I’ll be home in a couple of hours. We can work on the scene the director doesn’t like, although I think it’s perfect.” “Of course you do, you wrote it.” “My point exactly.” Ken’s words were punctuated by the slamming of the door as he left the apartment. Nick sat down again at the computer. “So how creative have you been lately?” He started to read his online persona, courtesy of the creative genius he lived with.
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Chapter 2 “WELL, at least he got my body-type right.” Nick spoke aloud in the empty apartment. “I’m glad he made me sound somewhat appealing. Although, who the hell wants to date a thirty-year-old, when there are plenty of younger hotties online?” Scrolling through some of the profiles, looking for a possible match, one that might be worth a second look or more, Nick started to laugh. “Doesn’t anyone tell their real age anymore? Some of these guys should have used Grecian Formula before posting their pictures. At least I can pass for thirty!” Spending the next half-hour ripping apart the faults of each online candidate, he decided to step away from the computer to get a drink. Returning with a tall glass of lemonade, he noticed a small number four in the message box next to his name. “Okay, Ken, you want me to find some fodder to add romance to our writing, let’s see who thinks I’d be perfect for him.” Clicking on the first guy, Nick came dangerously close to spitting a mouthful of lemonade on the screen. “What the fuck! That guy’s probably not even legal! How the hell do kids like this get past the initial screening? Forget about asking for a birth certificate; the company should have asked for a high school ID.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 9 The next two links supported Nick’s Grecian-Formula theory. “These two guys are probably old enough to be my father. Thirty-five and forty my ass—although I bet that’s what they’re after—a hot piece of ass.” Losing interest fast, he ventured into candidate number four’s profile. He wasn’t half bad: blue eyes, sandy blond hair in a color too natural looking to have been poured out of a bottle, and an impressive six-pack, shown off to perfection by a very good quality digital photo. Looking further he spotted the name. “Mark.” He found the tab for More Information and discovered Mark lived in Manhattan, too, and was a self-proclaimed theater junkie who wished he had the time to see every production on and off Broadway. The final stop was age. Nick sat back and smiled. “Thirty-one. And from the looks of your picture, you may have actually told the truth, Mark.” Scanning the room, as if he thought there must be a hidden camera stashed somewhere, Nick clicked the accept link next to Mark’s request. He typed in a local coffee bar, not part of either the Starbucks or Dunkin’ Donuts chains, and suggested meeting there at eight. Now it was wait-andsee time. Nick gazed at the picture. “You’re probably already taken, or if not, you have some major league flaw.” He stood up, abandoned the computer, and decided to go out for a run to clear his head. “Ken, you’ve always gotten me into trouble. Hell, it was your fault my parents found out I was gay long before I was ready to tell them.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 10 While Nick had stayed at home playing video games, his friend had been brave enough to come out to the world at just fourteen, and he’d reaped the rewards of that bravery. Nick snorted, remembering Ken’s untimely visit after his sixteen-year-old friend’s first boyfriend had told him he was too skinny and dumped him. The guy was right, but Nick hadn’t been about to tell his weepy friend the truth. Some truths aren’t worth it, and Ken had been a mess. Ken had been a beanpole in high school, not that he’d filled out all that much since then, he’d just added some muscle mass to his tall, thin stature. Ken had barged into Nick’s bedroom that day, slamming the door shut behind him. “Hey, take it easy. My mom and dad will freak if you break the door because of one of your hissy fits.” “I’m not having a hissy fit. Jimmy broke my heart.” Nick rolled his eyes. “You’ve only been going with him for two weeks, heartbreaking takes at least a month.” “How would you know, oh closeted, unfulfilled one?” “Shut up. I’ve been thinking about, well, you know.” “Nicky, you can think all you want, but that won’t get your rocks off by anyone but your own hand. A little less thinking, a little more action wouldn’t hurt.” “I thought you barged in here so I could comfort you.” Nick grinned, thinking about adding his friend’s amusing about-face to his list of stories to tell… someday. “Of course I need comforting. Where’s your Game Boy? I love watching Mario humping everything in sight.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 11 Nick picked up the small handheld device and tossed it at Ken. “He’s not humping, he’s jumping.” “Humping, jumping. I’m clearly a more creative thinker than you’ll ever be.” “Then I just may need to keep you around to get my writing going.” “Writing. Can you really make any money doing that?” Ken turned on the Game Boy and passively pressed the buttons. “Of course you can, if you’re good enough and can make the right contacts.” “Making contact is my specialty.” Ken winked as he glanced up from the little screen in front of him. “I’ll bet.” Nick bit his lip. “Ken, what’s it like?” “Huh?” “Kissing a guy. I mean I’ve kissed a few girls. They’re okay but not much excitement.” Ken chuckled. “Hmmm, wonder why that is? Duh!” “Look, I know I have to figure out how to get started, but what’s it like?” Ken put down the toy without bothering to turn it off and moved to sit next to Nick, who was sitting back on his bed. “It’s not bad. I’ve only kissed one girl, but they’re kind of soft and delicate. When a guy kisses it gets rougher, much faster. And depending on how old he is, there may even be a little stubble. It’s kind of hot.” Nick began to envision a couple of the guys on the school’s tennis team. He remembered when he’d learned he made the cut, and all the new first stringers ended up in the
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 12 shower room together. He’d been glad the water flowed too cold for comfort. “Nicky.” Ken leaned close to his ear, whispering his name. Remaining still, Nick felt his jeans beginning to tighten. “It’s time you were kissed. What else are friends for?” Ken gently cupped Nick’s chin, turning his head. As if in slow motion, he brushed his lips to Nick’s. Nick shivered at the connection but didn’t move away. Ken threaded his fingers in Nick’s shaggy brown mop of hair and pressed their lips together. Before he could think, Nick wrapped his arms around his best friend, gripping his shirt. When he felt the velvet of the tip of Ken’s tongue, Nick opened his mouth, a moan escaping as he invited Ken inside. The warmth, the heat. He fell back on the bed, Ken lying above him and moving. Oh God. The movement. He couldn’t stay still, joining his friend’s rhythm. Scrabbling at the back of Ken’s shirt, Nick tried to pull it upward, wanting to touch, feel more. Ken quickly broke off the ongoing attack on Nick’s lips, whipped off his shirt, and threw it off the bed, helping Nick do the same. When Ken crashed their lips and bodies together, Nick couldn’t hold back any further. Arching his back, he shoved his hand into the back of Ken’s pants, losing control, giving his friend’s ass a squeeze. “Oh fuck, Ken! Take them off,” Nick demanded as the rutting quickened. “Sweetheart, are you boys okay? I thought I heard someone yelling for help.” Nick’s mother opened the
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 13 unlocked door. A lesson Nick would remember for the rest of his life. “Nicholas! What are you doing?” That night he came out to his parents. They were much easier going than he thought they’d be, but his mother summed it up perfectly. “Nick, dear, I don’t care whether you like boys or girls, but I’d rather have no further visual demonstrations.” After that, Ken and he had decided they should stick to friendship, knowing boyfriends wouldn’t last but friends would. Returning to the computer, dressed in his running clothes, Nick saw a message across his profile. See you at 8:00. I know the place. Mark. Shit! Now he really needed a good head-clearing run.
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Chapter 3 NICK returned from his run exhausted and invigorated, all at the same time, to find Ken sitting on the sofa reading the latest issue of GQ. “You’re the poster child for gay living.” “Why, Nicky, you say the sweetest things. If that was supposed to be an insult, it got lost in translation.” “Touché! Sometimes I forget you give as good as you get.” “Most of my boyfriends would agree with that.” Nick snorted. “I see the computer’s turned off. Does that mean you’re going to ignore my generous and heartfelt gift?” Rolling his eyes, Nick booted up the computer. After logging on he went to his newest bookmarked site and opened his profile to the last page he’d visited. “Here, see for yourself.” Ken left his magazine behind and sat at the computer where most of their collaborative efforts were written. Glancing at the screen, a broad grin spread across his face. “See, I didn’t dump on your little morning surprise. The way I see it, you’re probably right. I don’t get out enough. And who knows, at least the guy’s hot, if he didn’t send in a fake picture.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 15 “Stop being such a cynic. I know you’re just trying to protect yourself in case he turns out to be a total loser, but you’ve got to start somewhere.” “Well, I’m starting with Mark at eight o’clock. Knowing my luck, I’ll be ending with him by nine.” “Do you want me to go to the same place in case he turns out to be a troll, or worse?” “What the hell is worse than a troll?” “A troll with a lousy personality.” Ken stood up and squeezed Nick’s shoulder. “Anyway, since I got you into this, I could cancel my date tonight and keep an eye on you.” Nick shook his head. “Even if it turns out to be a disaster, I’m no worse off than I was when I woke up this morning. I just keep thinking this could be the start of a new play.” “Oh really?” Ken’s eyes always lit up at the thought of creating a new piece, especially when they were in the middle of rehearsals and being asked for rewrites on a regular basis. “Sure, it can be about the only guy who can’t find a reasonable online hook-up no matter how hard he tries.” “Nicky! That’s awful. Although it would make a great comedic romance if it turns out the man of his dreams was right under his nose the whole time he was looking for love.” Ken gazed into Nick’s eyes, and for a brief moment, the memory of two horny sixteen-year-olds flashed through Nick’s mind. Then, as if on a director’s cue, the two broke down into full-fledged belly laughs. “Some things should remain sweet….” “… and hot…”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 16 “… memories of days gone by.” Ken gave Nick a quick hug. “We have to get your ensemble together for tonight. Do you have any idea what you want to wear?” “Ken, I’ve been dressing myself for quite some time now. I think I can handle it on my own.” “You’ve been handling a lot by yourself for a long time; that’s the problem.” Nick poked Ken in the ribs. “You can be so gross.” “Thank you. I’m working on completely beyond acceptable, but gross is a good start. Now let’s get you ready.” Ken gave Nick the once-over, turning him around. “Not bad once you shower and clean up. I’d date you, hell, I’d fuck you if we didn’t want to remain friends, and I didn’t have to rely on you for fifty percent of my livelihood.” “Fifty percent?” Nick tilted his head. “Hey, don’t sell my contributions short. You probably wouldn’t have half the humor without me.” “You are the personification of dry wit.” “You’ve got that right, and don’t you forget it!” Ken walked ahead of Nick toward the bedrooms, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, it’s time to make you irresistible.”
NICK walked into The Den of Caffeine promptly at eight. Scanning the room and not seeing anyone who remotely resembled Mark’s online photo, he spotted an unoccupied table in the far corner, surrounded by a small love-seat and an armchair.
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 17 Smoothing the front of his dark brown, long-sleeved, fitted T-shirt he took a seat, grabbing a copy of the New Yorker from a magazine rack on the way. The most recent opening of one of his and Ken’s plays had received a great review in the well-respected magazine. Ever since then he’d been drawn to it whenever he had a spare minute or two to read. Less than five minutes passed. Just as Nick started thinking he should never have come, he spotted Mark walking through the entrance. He had definitely sent in a current shot. It didn’t do him justice. He had everything promised, but in person it came together as an incredible package. Nick suppressed a laugh as his next thought was, I wonder what his package is like? Making eye contact, Mark approached the table. Nick stood up and shook his date’s hand. “Hi, I’m Nick.” “I know. You look just like your photo. I’m Mark.” “Your photo was pretty good, too, but the real thing is much better.” Nick licked his lips, forgetting for a moment he was in a coffee bar, not a backroom. Mark had the courtesy and courage to laugh. “Glad you like the merchandise.” Nick was glad the lights were slightly dimmed. He hoped it masked the blush he could feel spreading across his cheeks. “What would you like to drink? My treat.” “Thanks, I’ll have a non-fat latte.” Nick got two of the same and returned to the table to find Mark settled in the armchair looking at the magazine. He was surprised to feel a pang of disappointment. The love-
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 18 seat had room for two. “Here’s your coffee. That’s what I always get too.” “We must be a match made in gay heaven.” Mark winked. Smiling, Nick took the spot on the small sofa, at the end closest to his date. “That’s my favorite monthly these days.” “I’m not surprised after the great write-up they gave your newest play.” Nick’s eyes widened. “You know.” “My profile is pretty clear about my love of theater. I recognized your name the minute I spotted you at The Male Room.” “I’m flattered. Not too many people ever remember the playwright.” “Or in your case, playwrights.” “Yeah, Ken’s a terrific partner.” “But, since you’re here, I guess he’s just a business partner. There are all kinds of rumors in the theater world that you two are secretly in love.” Nick sat back, impressed with Mark’s openness and honesty. “We do love each other, have since we were kids. We also share a mutual love of writing and do it pretty well together.” “I’d say from the two plays I’ve seen, you write better than pretty well.” Nick nodded. He couldn’t deny he and Ken were a great creative team. “But that’s where it ends. It might have gone further when we were kids, but we decided being best friends suited us much better.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 19 Taking a sip of his own coffee, Nick watched as Mark’s tongue licked at the foam brimming over the edge of his cup. He noticed a little dot of the milky substance resting on his upper lip. Unable to resist the adorable look and the beautiful, naturally full lips, he gently brushed his hand over Mark’s cheek and thumbed off the excess milk. Mark’s tongue immediately followed. helping remove my milk moustache.”
“Thanks
for
“My pleasure.” Nick noticed Mark look down, and the subsequent blush of red rising in his date’s smooth cheeks. The two sat quietly drinking their lattes. “My friend Ken’s the one who signed me up at The Male Room. He doesn’t think I go out enough, at least not on real dates.” Mark blinked, and Nick was mesmerized by his beautiful, long lashes. “Are you disappointed?” Nick smiled. “Not in the least. Although, I can’t believe someone as good-looking and seemingly nice as you couldn’t get a boyfriend on his own.” “The last guy I hooked up with on my own was arrested for embezzlement. Since then I decided to try somewhere that I knew had already done background checks on anyone I might be interested in meeting.” Nick snickered. “I see your point. Ken thought my experience would bring in some good writing material, even if I didn’t meet someone I liked. I’m beginning to think he’s right.” Mark’s broad smile lit up the room. “It might be fun to know I played a small part in your next production.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 20 Their eyes met, and Nick found himself reaching out to rest his hand on Mark’s knee. He was surprised when the man stood up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—” Mark cut him off with a chaste kiss on the lips as he moved onto the empty half of the love-seat. “No apology necessary.” “You may have accepted my invitation tonight because you’re a fan of my work, but I’m beginning to be a fan of yours.” “I wouldn’t use that line in your next play. It’s kind of cheesy.” Mark took Nick’s hand in his and squeezed. “It works much better in person.” Nick looked around the coffee bar, filled with couples, both gay and straight. “I’d really like to kiss you.” Mark placed his cup on the table and wrapped his warm hand around the nape of Nick’s neck, drawing him close until their lips met. What started as a tender moment, heated up very quickly. The two wrapped their arms around each other as their kiss grew hungrier. Nick laced his fingers through the soft sandy locks, forcing Mark to remain close as their tongues dueled in a heated frenzy. A few moments passed and the two broke apart, panting. Mark rested his forehead against Nick’s. “Wow, Nick.” “Wow’s a great descriptive.” “I didn’t plan on this, especially not in a place like this.” “Let’s go somewhere else.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 21 Mark sat up straighter. “I don’t want this to be just a hook-up.” Realizing how he must have sounded, Nick backpedaled. “Neither do I, but I want time with you so we can get to know each other, without an audience.” Sitting still, Mark didn’t respond. “Not physically, although I don’t think that would be a bad thing. I really want to know who you are.” Mark bit his lip. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. My apartment is about ten minutes from here. Nothing says who I am better.” “You know if we go there, I may not be able to keep from—” “I know. Let’s go.”
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Chapter 4 WALKING to Mark’s apartment, Nick held his date’s hand. He’d forgotten how good it could feel. It had been a long, long time since he had held another man’s hand. He noted how well their hands fit together and the warm feeling he felt despite the evening chill. He kept wondering when something unexpected would occur, revealing Mark’s major flaws, things Nick would despise. Entering the apartment, Mark ushered Nick down a narrow entry hall to the small, neatly furnished, living/dining room area. “Have a seat, and I’ll get us something to drink. Would you like wine or something stronger?” “Wine sounds good. I’d prefer a red if you have it.” Mark nodded. “A few of my friends don’t drink at all, so I’ve gotten into the habit of asking first.” “Are they religious? I don’t know too many people who don’t drink any alcohol, unless they’re into religion, in AA, or… shit.” Nick brushed his hand over his face wishing he’d thought before he opened his mouth. “I write better than I speak.” Offering an understanding half-smile, Mark responded, “I think the end to your sentence was… or they’re on the cocktail and advised to limit alcohol intake. Unfortunately, yes, there are still HIV/AIDS sufferers out there.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 23 Nick bit his lip, embarrassed by his blunder and expecting Mark to kick him to the curb at any second. “Don’t worry about it. I guess it’s a good sign that people don’t immediately jump there when talking about gay men anymore.” “But it’s still something that can’t be ignored.” Mark nodded, heading for the bar. “I’ll get the wine. Relax, I’m not offended.” Nick snorted. “Are you some kind of a mind reader?” “No, but I’ve been told I read people pretty well.” “Then how did you end up at an online dating service?” “I want to play it safe, in more ways than one. A condom is great protection, but only if you don’t meet someone who might beat the crap out of you, rob you, or is just in some bar so his wife or kids don’t catch him batting for the other team.” “You sound like you speak from experience.” “Some. Not as bad as most.” Mark opened the lower cabinet of a sleek glass bar set in the corner of the room. He pulled out a bottle of red wine and opened it, pouring two glasses. “I’m thirty-three,” Nick blurted out. “I know.” Mark smirked as he brought Nick his glass and sat down on the sofa with him. “How? My profile didn’t say—” Mark cut him off. “It didn’t have to. Remember, I’m a theater junkie. I Googled you. Your theater bio gives a date of birth.” “So you’re clearly not mathematically challenged.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 24 Mark had the decency to laugh at Nick’s lame joke. “It’s a good thing you’re a writer and don’t have to deliver the lines you pen.” “I’m not usually this awkward in social situations. Hell, I meet producers and have to sell them my product regularly.” “It’s okay.” “By the way, what do you do to earn the money to afford to live alone?” “I write.” “No kidding.” Nick was beginning to wonder if he was meeting someone whose goal was to take Ken’s place. “I write for The Advocate. Mostly human interest stories, and an occasional theater review or interview with a person of interest in the LGBT community.” “Is that what this date is about?” “It crossed my mind that if the date didn’t work out, I might still get an article out of it, but I’m guessing the article will have to be done by someone else.” Mark sipped his wine. Nick took a huge gulp of his wine and put the glass down on the coffee table. Moving closer to Mark who had mimicked his actions, Nick tenderly wrapped his hand around Mark’s neck, drawing him in. They kissed. Tentatively at first, lips barely touching, until Nick whispered, “You’re beautiful.” Mark’s face reddened. “You too.” It didn’t matter who started it, but their hesitant moment became urgent in a flash. Mouths hungry with
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 25 desire, swollen lips assaulting each other, wanting more. The warmth and heat of tongues, dueling for dominance. Nick grappled with Mark’s shirt, lifting it halfway up his back. Needing to touch, make contact, and no longer willing to stop. Breaking away, Mark finished the job Nick had started and then pulled Nick’s own shirt over his head, both garments flung off to the side, forgotten. Hoping he wasn’t making the wrong decision, Nick pressed Mark back on the sofa. Hovering over the hot blond, he gazed at the body beneath him. Nick stared at Mark’s chest, heaving between kisses. The online photo hadn’t been touched up or manipulated. Mark had the amazing, promised six-pack. Nick dove in again, devouring Mark’s lips, nipping and hungry. Trying to remember this was not some random trick, he lay on top of his date and began to rut, pants left untouched, despite his growing need. The two began to move in unison. Nick sucked on Mark’s erect nipple, and when he dared to press his teeth around the sensitive nub, Mark arched his back and grabbed at Nick, fingers scratching as he clung tightly. “Oh fuck!” Watching Mark go over the edge, Nick pressed against him one last time and stilled as his own climax took hold. To stop the moans trying to escape his own lips, Nick crashed his mouth onto Mark’s, hoping the man beneath him would feel his longing. Nick peppered tender kisses on Mark’s cheeks and neck. Both spent, they lay together on the sofa, panting in unison.
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 26 Mark closed his eyes and turned away. “I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t that.” Nick huffed. “I haven’t come in my pants since I was in high school.” Mark hid his face in his hands in an attempt to hide the red flush covering his fair complexion. “Don’t be embarrassed.” Nick cupped Mark’s chin, gently encouraging him to look back. “You were hot. You are hot.” “I just—I wanted this to be about really meeting someone, not only sex.” “Believe me, if it was just about sex for me, you’d be naked by now.” Mark laughed. “Are you sure?” “Without question. You read my bio and you’re obviously a writer who’s done his research. If I remember correctly, my publicist wrote that I like to go out and enjoy the night life the city has to offer. We both know that’s code for the gay playwright likes to trick.” “I’d imagine tricking is not a clothing optional activity.” “I like the way you worded that, but you’re right— clothing is definitely not a part of the deal.” Mark tilted his head and smiled. Nick reluctantly sat up, releasing the man beneath him. “Listen, unless you want me to leave, I’d like to stay and get to know you better. Believe me, I haven’t said that to anyone in years.” “I’d like you to stay. I’ll show you the way to the guest bathroom so you can clean up.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 27 Grabbing his shirt, Nick followed Mark. After cleaning himself with the towel Mark gave him, he put his shirt back on and then made his way back to the living room to await Mark’s return. He amused himself by looking at the signed theater posters and Playbills that lined the apartment’s walls. He stopped short when he saw a series of simplyframed awards tucked away in a corner. Mark was clearly not a bragger. If Nick hadn’t been carefully observing, hoping to learn more about his new… lover, he would have missed the certificates. Mark had won three citations for hard news reporting from the Associated Press. Nick’s humble date had been the first man to report on a series of attacks in the Village, and had put himself in harm’s way to uncover the thugs targeting men and women whose only crime was walking down the street hand-in-hand with same-sex escorts. Maybe Ken had done him a favor after all. There was definitely something to this online dating. Even better, there was definitely something to Mark. For the first time in years, Nick wanted to stay, and not just for another drink. Fortunately, Mark seemed to feel the same.
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Chapter 5 MARK returned to the living room in a fresh pair of dark blue jeans. To Nick’s surprise and pleasure, he hadn’t bothered to put on another shirt. “I like your poster collection.” “Thanks.” Mark picked up his and Nick’s glasses of wine from earlier, handed Nick’s to him, and then took a sip from his own glass. “I like getting autographs and meeting the people who create the illusions. It’s too bad the playwrights and directors don’t get the chance to meet the audiences enjoying their work.” Smiling, Nick finished his wine and then pecked Mark on the cheek. “I appreciate the nod, but I wouldn’t know what to say to a fan who might actually criticize something in the performance. It’s bad enough when we’re interviewed one-on-one or have to endure talk-backs after select performances. Besides, I’ve always been there on opening night. I get to see the audience reaction while remaining fairly anonymous.” “I’ll make sure to keep any questions I have about your plays to myself, for now. I wouldn’t want to scare you away.” “In this case it would take a lot more than a query about my work to make me run.” Nick wrapped his arm around Mark’s waist as the blond finished his drink, placed the glass down and leaned into the touch.
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 29 “It’s nice having you here. I haven’t invited a date into my home for years.” Nick remembered the last night he and his former boyfriend had spent together, before the closet case left him to marry. It was the night before the wedding. Alan’s fiancée had been off with her girlfriends, and he’d shown up at Nick’s door after his bachelor party. The memory of being left behind in the bed they’d shared still stung, no matter how many nights had passed since their final good-bye. “I’m probably making some sort of mistake, but I’d still like you to stay. I hope you don’t think I’m a jerk; I still don’t want to….” Mark turned away, staring toward nothing in particular. “Fuck?” Nick moved so he and Mark were looking into each other’s eyes. He wanted him to see his sincerity. This was a time for honesty, not glib remarks. “It’s alright. I haven’t spent a complete night holding anyone in years, with or without sex.” “I know the feeling. I’ve been tempted a few times, but after my last break-up I couldn’t seem to trust anyone.” Nick huffed. “Sounds familiar. I haven’t slept with anyone since his two and half kids came along.” Mark raised an eyebrow. “Never mind. I’ll explain another time.” Ghosting his fingers over Mark’s cheek and continuing gently over his shoulder, Nick felt him shiver under his touch. “Are you cold?” Shaking his head, Mark took a step closer, resting his head against Nick’s shoulder and rubbing his hands up and down the playwright’s back.
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 30 Feeling himself shudder at the contact, Nick clung to Mark. “I seem to feel the same chill in the air.” He tenderly kissed the pale neck, lips brushing over chin and cheek and nipping at Mark’s earlobe. Inhaling audibly, Mark stepped back and took Nick’s hand, guiding him to the bedroom. The room was decorated in an art deco motif with black and white as the main color scheme. Little touches of beadwork on lamps and shades added to the ambiance. The two men stood at the foot of the bed, the only light was from street lights filtering in through the windows lining one side of the room. He couldn’t have come up with a better setting had he written it himself. Nick began to unbutton Mark’s jeans. “I don’t.” Mark stilled Nick’s hands. “I know. I just want us to be comfortable.” Biting his lip, Mark dropped his arms to his sides, allowing Nick to continue unfastening his pants. It wasn’t long before he was gripping Nick’s shoulders. Mark’s head fell back as Nick slowly lowered the jeans, running his hands over the black briefs that remained in place. Setting his pants aside, Mark watched, licking his lips, as Nick removed his own pants and briefs in unison. “What are you doing?” “My briefs are sticky from before. I promise to behave, although it’ll be hard.” Mark grinned. “Is that meant to be a play on words?” Nick snorted. “Actually, I think it’s an undeniable fact.” “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 31 “Better than okay.” Nick laced their fingers together as they climbed into the queen-sized bed together. “I suddenly do feel cold.” “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.” Nick reclined against the pillows, pulling the blanket over them and wrapping his arms around Mark. It all seemed so natural. Nick began to comb his fingers through the now messy mop of sandy hair. The two clung together. Mark’s head fit perfectly over Nick’s heart. “It’s beating so fast.” “I know. It’s the first time it’s been awake for years.” “Mine too.” “Mark.” “Yes?” “I think I just might be falling in like with you.” Mark huffed and kissed Nick’s chest. “I’m glad because I’m already there.”
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Chapter 6 NICK awoke with the sunlight shining in on him. At first it took a moment to remember exactly where he was. He’d never spent a complete night at a trick’s place, nor did he invite them to his apartment. Looking down, he spotted the short mop of sandy hair. Their bodies tangled together felt right. Kissing the top of Mark’s head, Nick leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes, feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t known for a very long time. Before he was able to fall back to sleep, his eyes shot open when a warm hand wrapped around his morning wood. “Oh God,” he breathed. Mark’s hand was performing magic, ministering to his cock both gently and firmly, alternating the touch and driving Nick crazy. Nick thrust once, twice, and then shot into the waiting hand. “Ahhh, Mark.” Mark smirked as he licked his fingertips. “I’m glad it was my name you called out, otherwise this could have been very awkward.” Chuckling as he panted, Nick’s breathing slowly returned to normal. He reached down to discover Mark had removed his briefs sometime during the night. Moistening his hand with his own come, Nick ran his fingers over Mark’s long cock.
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 33 “Nick, I won’t last.” “That’s okay, neither did I.” Rolling Mark onto his back, Nick continued stroking the stiff member while he alternately nipped, licked, and kissed Mark’s neck. Nick loved listening to the sounds Mark was making. Writhing beneath him, Mark dug his nails into Nick’s shoulders, pulling him closer, crashing their lips together as he shuddered through his orgasm. Enveloping Mark in his arms, Nick felt Mark return the embrace. The two held one another silently, kissing and touching, unwilling to break apart. Spotting the clock on the nightstand, Nick loosened his grip. “Mark, I have to leave. Can I use your shower?” Nodding, Mark let go, sitting with his arms around his knees and tilted his head toward the master bathroom. “Towels are in the cabinet under the sink.” When Nick returned to the bedroom, refreshed from the morning’s activities and a hot shower, Mark stood, underwear now back in place, and approached. “Will we see each other again?” Mark rolled his lips inward, his brow furrowed. Nick snorted. “We’d better.” He took Mark in his arms. “I haven’t felt this close to anyone, especially without fucking him, for as long as I can remember.” “Me neither.” Mark’s vulnerability and concern were touching. Nick felt a pang in his heart he’d never experienced before. “I was wrong yesterday about falling in like with you.” Mark bit his lip as he looked at Nick.
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 34 “It’s much more than that.” “Good. I feel the same way.” Nick smiled. “You’d better give me your phone number, otherwise I can’t do the right thing and call you for another date as soon as I reach the lobby of this building.” Mark threw back his head and laughed. It was the most joyful sound Nick could imagine to start his day.
NICK cautiously walked into his apartment, trying to avoid waking Ken since they typically made it a habit of sleeping late on the weekends. Carefully opening the door so it wouldn’t creak, he hung his jacket in the front hall closet and tiptoed toward his bedroom to change his clothes. As he approached Ken’s bedroom, he took off his shoes. “No need for that, Nicky. I’ve been worried sick about you. You never called even though you knew I’d be home waiting.” Damn! Nick remembered silencing his phone when he decided to spend the night at Mark’s, but he’d never checked to see if anyone had called or even bothered to text Ken with his plans. “You’d better get your ass in here right now!” The edge in Ken’s voice sent a chill up Nick’s spine. “Hi, honey. I’m home.” He walked in, plastering a smile on his face with the probably vain hope of diffusing whatever hell he was about to receive.
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 35 “Don’t get all cute with me. Besides, you don’t do cute nearly as well as I do.” Ken moved to one side of his bed and patted the space next to him. Nick obediently sat next to his friend, saying nothing. “Well?” Looking downward, Nick felt guilty. He never stayed out all night, making it a policy to avoid waking up with a trick. It sent a clear message—no involvement, only sex. “Sorry I worried you. I should have called.” “You’re damn right you should’ve phoned. But that’s the least of it.” Ken put his arm around Nick’s shoulders and squeezed. “Tell me everything. Was he good?” Nick glared at Ken. “What? If you stayed out all night there must have been something to keep your attention.” “Yeah, there was. Mark.” “Mark, as in the person, not the hot bod?” “He’s a lot more than a hot, warm body. Mark’s… damn, I don’t know how to word it.” “Nicky, you can’t find the words. This guy must be something special. You always found plenty of words to describe your last boyfriend, and that was before he allowed us to see just how big a jerk he was, and probably still is.” “Shut up.” Nick whispered, covering his face. “It’s just that this is the kind of thing I want to stay away from.” Ken looked at Nick, his face softening. He began to brush his hand over Nick’s hair, like a mother comforting her son after he’d skinned his knee. “You really care about
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 36 this guy. Holy shit! You only met yesterday. How did this happen?” Shrugging, Nick leaned on his friend’s shoulder. “I left him less than an hour ago, and all I want to do is call, hear his voice, go back to his place.” “You spent the night at his place, didn’t you? How was it?” “Perfect.” “You’re scaring me. You don’t get involved. That’s my job.” Ken gave Nick’s shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s move onto a better subject. Was he a good fuck?” Nick pulled away abruptly, narrowing his eyes as he stared at Ken. “We didn’t fuck.” “You didn’t fuck? Then what were you doing all night.” “We did a few things, but mostly we kissed, held each other, slept together.” “Oh my God! Next you’ll be telling me that even if he did take it up the ass it would have been making love, not fucking.” Nick looked away and stood up. He was tempted to say nothing, but Ken knew him too well to deny anything. “It would have been.” Ken threw off his blanket and jumped out of bed. He ran to Nick and held him tight, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “I’d say I told you so, but I’m so happy for you I can’t bring myself to do it. This is better than the scenario I was dreaming up for our next play. Much better.” Nick clung to his friend. “How could I let this happen? It’ll only end up as a ridiculous disaster, and you’ll be
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 37 scraping me off the floor again. I’ve got to end it before it starts.” Shaking his head, Nick felt confused by all the feelings Mark had stirred. He’d left the apartment feeling high, but the minute Mark was out of sight, Nick started to secondguess the emotions he was experiencing. From his experience, and those of his friends, Nick had found few gay relationships lasting or successful. Only a couple of his friends had partners who could be considered long-term and were still happy. Entering his own room, Nick closed the door, locking it behind him. Taking out his cell phone and the paper he had stuffed into his pocket alongside it, he pressed the first six numbers, then disconnected. Nick repeated the same action three times before crumpling the paper and tossing it in the trash. Grabbing his laptop, he sat on his bed and started to type. The only way to get through this realistically was to write. His fingers flew across the keys like lightning as the title came to him immediately, Too Good to Be True. Ghosting his fingers over his lips, he remembered Mark’s full lips, his tender caresses, and the ease they had with each other. Nick continued to type, knowing if he allowed this to develop any further he’d probably screw it up. He’d come to terms with the fact he was destined to be single and shoved any thoughts to the contrary far out of his mind. Nick had already screwed up one relationship. He didn’t want to create a scorecard. The memory of loving Alan still
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 38 hurt, and Nick didn’t think he could open the door to such intense pain again.
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Chapter 7 WHILE Nick showered, Ken snuck into his friend’s room. He knew he was probably overstepping the bounds of friendship, but he peeked at the open document on the computer screen anyway. “Damn! You’ve really got it bad.” Looking around, he spotted a tiny piece of scrap paper tossed onto the floor, adjacent to the trash can. Picking it up he saw a name and phone number. “Nicky, honey, you’ll thank me for this someday. I won’t let that asshole from over five years ago screw up your entire life.” Leaving the room, Ken ducked into his own bedroom and took out his phone. “Hello, who is this?” “This is Ken, Nick’s roommate.” He heard a deep breath. “Is he okay? Please tell me he wasn’t in some kind of accident after he left this morning. He said he’d call right away, but I haven’t heard a word.” “Nick’s physically fine, but emotionally he’s a wreck.” “I don’t understand.” “He hasn’t allowed himself to fall in love in more than half a decade, and in one night you changed everything.” “Huh?” “I hope you’re more eloquent in person, or this will never work out.” Ken sighed. “He doesn’t know I’m calling you. If
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 40 you want any kind of future with Nick, and feel even a fraction of what he obviously feels for you, you should probably get your pretty little butt over here as soon as possible.” “I see.” “Mark, being a man of few words can be an attractive quality, but I need to know, are you coming?” Ken bit his lip, hoping Nick wasn’t experiencing unrequited love. “He gave me the address this morning. I’ll be there in less than half an hour.” Ken smiled broadly. “Good answer, my friend. I most definitely look forward to meeting you.”
NICK set his laptop aside. His thoughts were all over the place, preventing him from being able to concentrate enough to convert his discomfiting, absurd experience with Mark into coherent words on a page. How could he feel so much for Mark in such a short time? He quickly dressed in his jogging T-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers and made his way to the door of the apartment. “Nick, where are you going?” Ken yelled from the bathroom. Nick shook his head, recognizing the garbled voice as a sure sign his friend was trying to talk and brush his teeth at the same time. “Don’t abandon your morning beauty regimen on my account. I’ll be back soon.” Nick rubbed his temples. “I’m going out for a run; maybe it’ll help clear my head.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 41 All he heard as he closed the door behind him was a resounding, “Shit!” Nick knew his friend wanted to help him through his romantic stupidity, but there was nothing to be done. He’d jumped in too fast and let his emotions run away with him. Nick took off on the streets of New York City hoping fresh air and exercise would help him think calmly and rationally about the whole Mark situation. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but no sooner had he reached the nearest crosswalk to his building, than his cell phone started to vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he wondered wishfully if it might be Mark. That would change everything, but it was Ken. He turned off the power and continued to run. Normally he’d make his way through the Village, enjoying some window-shopping as he passed by the stores before they opened for the day. Nick loved the eclectic nature of the area, from chic and elegant to flamboyant and trashy. There was something for everyone. For some reason, Nick decided to make his way uptown, running on Sixth Avenue. He wasn’t sure how far he’d gone until he reached Fortieth Street and turned, heading directly to Bryant Park. Laughing, he scanned the virtually empty patch of grass, trees, and benches, remembering Ken’s glee when he’d discovered part of the benefits of being a successful playwright included tickets to the biggest East Coast fashion event of the season. “I guess it’s true: all us fags are drawn to haute couture, although my timing is way off for Fashion Week. Damn! My timing’s way off for everything today.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 42 Deciding to take a short break, Nick stretched to cool down and took a seat on a bench close to the park entrance. He leaned back and closed his eyes in the hope of experiencing complete relaxation, but all he could imagine were those lips—Mark’s lips—pressing against his own. He was beautiful. Nick thought of how Mark’s eyes lit up when Nick touched him. He’d never had a trick respond to him in such an adoring way. Adoring, where had that come from? Feeling his headache returning, Nick tried to wipe out the memory of the previous night. He had three scenes to take a second look at for the play in rehearsals, and one he and Ken had to completely rewrite. Yet, none of that mattered when Mark’s eyes, face, and caresses all flooded Nick’s mind. Why was he running? Was he trying to escape a possible rejection or… fuck! Nick’s stomach churned. Love. He hadn’t been in love in years, and when he had, it was with someone who’d kept him buried so deep in the closet he never saw the light of day. Is this what it feels like to love someone and to have them love you back openly and honestly? Bending in half, Nick placed his head between his knees, thinking he might throw up on the spot if he didn’t. As he moved, the cell phone slipped out of his sweats and landed on the ground. Picking it up, Nick decided to turn it back on to let Ken know he hadn’t run away from home, at least not permanently. The screen lit up and Nick noticed two messages. Assuming they were both from his overly dramatic roommate
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 43 he listened to them, expecting a tongue lashing equivalent to one from a nagging housewife. Ken’s voice, soft and comforting, filled the first voice mail. “Honey, I’m worried about you. Please come home so we can talk. You deserve this. Not everyone is an asshole where relationships are concerned. I may not have had the long-term commitment we’re both looking for yet, but I’m convinced this is a good thing. Don’t deny yourself this, especially now that it’s there if you want it. Come home.” Nick stared at the phone. “Jesus, Ken, I wish I felt some crumb of that kind of love for you. You know just the right thing to say.” Pressing the button to listen to the second voice mail, Nick sat upright on the bench when he heard Mark’s voice. “Nick, I know you might be spooked by our immediate connection. I get the feeling you’re an amateur where emotional involvement is concerned, unless it’s generated for one of the characters in your plays.” There was a pause, then he heard Mark take a deep breath. “Your friend, Ken, called me. I came to your place to see you, talk to you. I don’t want this to be a one-time special memory, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want that either. I’ll wait here for a while. Your roommate thinks we’re perfect for each other; he’s pretty convincing. We’re having coffee. I hope you’ll come back soon.” Nick felt a drop or two of moisture escape from his eyes. He quickly wiped the tears away. “Where the hell did those come from?” Mark. He sounded sincere; he was sincere. Tucking his phone back into his pocket, Nick, no longer nauseous, stood
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 44 from the bench and ran to the street. He knew there was only a certain amount of time Ken would be able to keep Mark at the apartment. As soon as he made his way to the curb, Nick grabbed a cab to head downtown. Running would take too long, and he didn’t have the patience to wait for the subway. If Mark was still at the apartment when he arrived, maybe this relationship thing really had some promise. Pulling up in front of his building, Nick discovered he’d left his wallet behind when he’d dashed out earlier to escape his feelings. Touching the first speed dial on his phone, he fidgeted in his seat, waiting for an answer. “Nicky, where the fuck are you?” Ken’s near-frantic voice bellowed through the phone. “Look, I’m sorry to worry you. We’ll talk later. I’m downstairs in a cab.” “Well, get out of the cab, and get your hot ass up here.” “I would, but I left my money in my room. Can you come down here with my wallet, now?” “Sure, honey. Right away.” “Uhm, Ken?” Nick bit his lip. “Yes?” “Is he still there?” “Let’s just say our new play is getting more exciting by the minute.” Nick closed his eyes and sat back in the cab. “My friend is bringing me my cash. He’ll be down in a minute.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 45 Before he realized what was happening, Mark was standing at the driver’s door handing the cabbie a bill large enough to cover the fare and a generous tip. He opened the rear door of the taxi and offered his hand. “I have a feeling you’re going to be a little more labor intensive than I first thought.” Nick rolled his lips inward as the car drove away, leaving the two on the curb. “But despite your obvious tendency toward the dramatic, something I would have never guessed from the comic nature of your plays or your online profile, I think it just might be worth the effort.” Mark placed his hands on both sides of Nick’s face and kissed him like he’d never been kissed before. “Now get upstairs and shower so Ken can relax. You had him in a borderline frenzy.” Nick looked down at his sneakers. “And you?” “I’m here, and I stayed to wait for you.” Mark clutched Nick’s hand as they walked into the building.
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Chapter 8 THE following week Nick and Mark ate dinner together every night, and on two occasions Mark brought his laptop to Nick and Ken’s apartment and worked alongside the two playwrights on his own news stories. He appeared very involved in a hard news series he was preparing, but unwilling to discuss. By the end of the week, Ken was automatically preparing enough food for three, and Mark insisted on bringing a vegetable side dish to contribute to the meal. “Mmm, that smells great. Just tell me how long it takes to heat up, and I’ll make sure to pop it in the oven before dinner.” Mark approached Ken, setting the vegetable medley on the kitchen counter. “It needs to be put in about twenty minutes before we’re ready to eat.” Nick smiled warmly as he listened to the easy conversation between his new lover and his best friend. His thoughts wandered as he watched the two interact. Ken had been dating the same man for nearly two months, but Nick hadn’t allowed himself to get to know him yet. He had been cool and aloof, assuming this would be another in a long line of revolving door romances for his oldest friend. Yet, in less than a week Ken had welcomed Mark into their home without a second thought.
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 47 As he walked into the small kitchen area to give Mark a proper greeting, Nick paused, listening to Mark and Ken’s further conversation. “I think he’s really falling for you.” “It’s just a shame he’s not willing to admit it. We’ve been together every day this week, and just when I expect him to throw caution to the wind and open up, he pulls away and distances himself emotionally. There’s some imaginary boundary line Nick’s unwilling to cross.” “Has he told you about Alan?” “Who?” “That would explain a lot.” Nick could picture Ken rolling his eyes. Mark sat on a stool in the small kitchen. “Tell me. I’ve asked him to share more about himself, things neither of our profiles revealed.” “Oh really, and where does that usually lead?” Mark snorted. “It usually leads to an amazing kiss… and then some.” Nodding, Ken continued preparing the chicken for stovetop grilling. “I assume, since I haven’t heard anything from him, and then some isn’t the big one.” Laughing out loud, Mark continued. “My choice, not his. I’m glad he’s willing to wait. I’ve never enjoyed tricking, and I definitely want it to be special when we—” Mark stopped speaking and looked at Ken. “The red in your cheeks looks good on you.” Ken snickered. “Just so you know, a week for my Nicky is practically a lifetime commitment these days. Whenever you
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 48 decide to do the deed, I’m certain it’ll be a different experience than his usual.” “What’s your interpretation of his usual?” “Meet a trick, and within an hour and a half he’s fucked and forgotten.” Ken snorted. Nick wanted to barge in and shut his friend up, but froze in place when Ken hugged Mark. “Honey, Nick loves you. The last time he looked at anyone the way he looks at you, the guy allowed his parents to take charge of his life. They married him off to a woman, and now they’re awaiting the arrival of baby number three.” “Two and a half kids ago,” Mark mumbled. Nick was surprised Mark connected his remark from their first night together. “What was that, sweetie?” “That must have been tough for Nick.” Mark ran his hand through his hair, a few wisps falling back onto his forehead. “He was devastated. Alan promised him he’d get out of the marriage and even had the nerve to go to him after his bachelor party. They spent the night together, with Alan spewing all kinds of bullshit promises.” Ken sighed. “In the morning, Alan reneged on all of his declarations and married the woman of his nightmares, while Nick sat home and wrote.” “Wait a minute! The first play you two had staged Off Broadway was about a guy testing romance on both sides of the coin but ending up with his loyal and loving girlfriend.” Mark stared at Ken.
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 49 Nick bit his lip and walked into the kitchen. “Yep, we changed a shitload of the actual details and made it seem like the guy made the right choice. The theatrical ending was far more marketable to the general public.” Startled, Mark nearly fell off his stool. Recovering his balance, he stood up and walked toward Nick. Wrapping his arms around him, Mark pressed his lips to Nick’s. Nick threaded his fingers through Mark’s sandy locks as the heat between them escalated. Opening his mouth, Mark invited Nick inside. It was a place of warmth and passion Nick had grown to love, and his body reacted, desire growing with every moment they touched. Nick couldn’t get enough of Mark and wanted to drag him off to the bedroom then and there. “Ahem, boys, you can eat whatever dessert you want later, but dinner will be ready soon, and Bobby isn’t around right now, so I’d appreciate a little decorum while I’m feeling extremely envious.” Grinning at his friend, Nick asked, “Why doesn’t Bobby come over more often? I’d like to get to know him.” Ken dropped the fork he was using to turn over the chicken. “Oh my God! The last time Bobby was here you asked him if he knew what number boyfriend he was on my scorecard. It took me a week to convince him I wasn’t a complete flake.” Mark glared at Nick. “You didn’t!” Feeling a rush of heat on his cheeks, Nick turned away and shrugged. “I screwed up; I admit it.” He cupped Mark’s chin, and looked into his eyes. “I didn’t understand how you
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 50 could get so attached to another person in such a short time.” Offering a quick peck on the cheek after retrieving a clean fork, Ken whispered, “And do you now?” Stepping back, Nick looked at Ken and then Mark. “Alan wasn’t easy, but he was a habit. As it turned out, he was a bad habit, although he did feed my creativity.” “And our bank accounts, after the show got a good review in The Advocate, despite the guy ending up with the girl.” Nick’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. How long have you been writing reviews?” Nibbling on the corner of his thumbnail, Mark lowered his head. “Long enough to have a reviewed a little Off Broadway show with a sweet ending that made sense for the protagonist. I believe I understood that the guy could never commit to his male lover. It was better that he left him so they could both have fulfilled lives.” Ken grabbed Mark from behind and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. “I can’t thank you enough. That review spearheaded our career. We got oodles of attention after it was published, and the show ran with sold out houses for eight months.” “I know. I saw it twice.” Nick walked out of the kitchen, overwhelmed with the topic of his former lover—his former love. Warm hands massaged his shoulders as Mark followed him into the dining area. “I get the feeling Alan’s marriage wasn’t the actual end of the story.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 51 “He came back to see me at least three more times during the first half year of his new life.” “I assume see you is code for—he came to get a hot fix with the kind of sex he really wanted.” Nick nodded, then leaned into Mark’s ministrations as he kneaded the knots that always formed whenever Nick was reminded of those painful days. “Please turn around, Nick.” Mark placed his hands behind Nick’s head, entangling his fingers in his hair, and drew him in, crashing their lips together. Nick could feel the pain and pleasure of his lips swelling. He felt his pants tightening as the kiss became needier. Desperate for more, Nick lifted the hem of Mark’s shirt, running his hands up his lover’s back, keeping him close, needing to touch the smooth, muscular body he’d grown to—Nick broke apart from their kiss and shook his head, unwilling to finish his thought. Panting as he stepped back for a moment, Mark gazed into Nick’s eyes. “I know who I want, and I’m not afraid. Are you?” Resting his forehead against Mark’s, his own breathing labored, Nick paused a moment before he grinned. “No. I think for the first time in years I’m willing to take a chance. I’m still nervous.” Nick took a deep breath, knowing he had to admit his true feelings. “It hurt. The memory still hurts.” “I want to walk down the street with you, hand-in-hand. I want to introduce you to everyone I know, including my parents. I want you to make love to me, and only me, and I want you to understand you can always count on me. Damn, Nick, I love you.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 52 Closing his eyes, Nick took a leap of faith and whispered, “Mark, I love you too.” From the dining room table behind them, Nick heard another utensil crash to the floor. Ken’s smile lit up his entire face. “I haven’t been this thrilled since I paid off my last credit card bill. I’m taking out a bottle of wine… and calling Bobby. Nick, I think you’re ready to meet him again.”
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Chapter 9 “HE’S not half bad, and Ken’s different around him.” Mark remained quiet as he and Nick walked toward Mark’s apartment. “I would never have imagined Ken could be any more alive or animated, but somehow he was, and it all started the minute that guy walked through the door.” “So does that mean you won’t brush Bobby off as another soon-to-be-cast-off to add to Ken’s already long list?” Nick started when Mark actually spoke. Laughing, Mark laced his fingers with Nick’s as they crossed the street. “I’ve been listening; there was just nothing for me to add. At first I thought you might be jealous of Ken’s boyfriends. I wondered if you two had—” Stopping suddenly, Nick cut off Mark’s stream of consciousness. “No. Never! We once fooled around a little when we were kids, but that was it.” Mark wrapped his arm around Nick’s waist and leaned on his shoulder. “I know. Being around you both, getting to know him better, has been eye-opening. You two are more like brothers than lovers.” Nodding, Nick gently rubbed his hand over Mark’s back as they continued walking. “That sums us up pretty accurately.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 54 “The big surprise for me was when I realized Ken was the big brother.” Sighing, Nick gave Mark a squeeze. “You have been paying attention.” Mark snorted as they walked into his building. The two entered Mark’s apartment. Without uttering a sound, Nick took Mark’s hand and led him into the bedroom. Running his hands down Mark sides until his fingers met the hem of his shirt, Nick slowly lifted it off, tossing it onto the floor. Mark carefully unfastened each button on Nick’s shirt until the garment hung open. As he eased it off Nick’s shoulders an inch at a time, Mark’s lips followed, tenderly licking, nipping, and kissing each newly exposed patch of skin. Nick’s breath hitched when Mark began to suck on his nipple. Beads of sweat broke out on Nick’s forehead. He wanted more of Mark; he wanted all Mark had to give. This would finally be their night, and Nick understood this wasn’t only about sex. It was about love. He had been waiting far too long, and his desire increased with each passing moment. Nick ran his hand down Mark’s bare chest, then even lower, pressing it against the bulge in his lover’s pants. “I want you. I want to be inside you. From our first night, this is what I wanted.” Mark teased the hairs at the nape of Nick’s neck and looked him in the eyes. “I’m glad we waited. Thank you.” Mark’s fingertips brushed over Nick’s earlobe as he
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 55 whispered. “Make love to me.” It wasn’t just a request, but a declaration and a hope as well. Swallowing hard, Nick knew this was his time to step up. “That’s exactly what it will be.” His fingers trembling, Nick opened Mark’s belt and unzipped his pants, lowering them along with his briefs. Mark’s cock was already hard. Nick couldn’t resist the longing to touch and hold, to attend to Mark’s need. “Don’t.” Mark moaned. “I want to come with you, when you fill me. Please.” Nick battled the desire to throw Mark onto the bed and take him fast and hard, Mark’s words having added fuel to the already heated fire within. “You’re beautiful.” The blush covering Mark’s face made him even more irresistible. Nick’s passion escalated almost beyond control. He quickly stripped off his own pants, kicking them away. Taking hold of Mark’s hand once again, Nick guided him onto the bed. The two lay facing one another. Nick ghosted his fingers over Mark’s heated cheek, leaning in to kiss his lips, now rosy and waiting to be devoured. Moving ever closer, Nick aligned himself over Mark. The feeling of their cocks rubbing together was almost overwhelming. After grabbing the lube off the bedside table, Nick popped the cap, squirting some into the palm of one hand. Before continuing, wanting to be certain this was what Mark truly wanted, he gazed into Mark’s eyes, seeking final approval. “Mark.” “I love you, Nick.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 56 Nick shivered as the words were spoken, knowing he felt the same way. For the first time in over five years he once again knew how it felt to be in love, and this time it was so much more, so much better. This time it was everything. Pressing his fingers inside, one at a time, Nick watched as his lover’s head fell back onto the pillow, his back arching as Nick opened him, prepared him, touched him from within. “Now, Nick. Please.” Not needing to be asked twice, Nick quickly opened the condom and rolled it into place. His dick was hard with desire for the man beneath him. Feeling Mark’s legs circle his back, Nick carefully entered. The heat shot through him, and it took all of Nick’s control not to ram inside, but to enter as gently as possible. This wasn’t about getting off; it was about sharing the moment they gave themselves to each other. Mark closed his eyes and nodded, and Nick continued to join them in the most intimate of ways. When he was fully inside, Nick gazed down at Mark. His lips formed an O, but nothing came out, his nails digging into Nick’s back. Nick’s breath hitched knowing he was the one to cause Mark to experience the bliss of being filled by the man you love. Nick stilled briefly, but soon couldn’t wait any longer. He began to move, thrusting in and out, a rhythm new to them, but seeming as natural as if the two had been together for years. Pulling Nick’s head down, Mark kissed him, his hands gripping and scrabbling as their pace quickened. “Oh God.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 57 “Do you feel me, Mark? All of me becoming a part of you.” “Too much.” Mark’s eyes closed as he clung to Nick. “Want more.” Nick nipped, sucked, kissed, and licked Mark’s neck and shoulders. He couldn’t get enough. The two rocked as one. Mark tightened his hold on Nick from inside and out. “Ahhh.” Captured entirely in Mark’s embrace, Nick fell over the edge with his lover. “Mark!” They lay still as Mark’s legs relaxed, falling to the sides. Breathing labored, neither said a word, but continued to pepper kisses on one another. Slipping out, Nick rolled to the side to remove the condom. Gazing at Mark, his blond hair matted and darkened with sweat, face flushed, Nick couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight. He felt more alive than he could ever remember. “I love you.” The grin on Mark’s face was the ultimate reward. Nick held his man closer than he thought possible. Although he knew it was ridiculously unrealistic, the thought of never letting him go crossed his mind just before he fell into a deep sleep.
THE sound of garbage cans crashing around on the sidewalk below woke Nick with a start. He blinked, barely open eyes scanning the room, remembering where he was and recalling the pleasures of the previous night. His dick was ready and
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 58 waiting for more, but he found himself alone in the bed; the space next to him was empty. Briefly alarmed, Nick started to sit up until Mark entered, offering a steaming cup of coffee. “Ken made it clear that playwrights are not morning people. I didn’t want to wake you.” Nick smiled. “Now I’m sure I love you.” Eyes widening, Mark placed the cup on a coaster on the nightstand nearest Nick. “So you really meant it. It wasn’t just a line brought on in the throes of your orgasm.” Hearing the tentative edge and worry in Mark’s voice, Nick knew he had to make himself clear. “I may not be great at a lot of things, but words are my strength, and I don’t use the word love lightly. I meant what I said, Mark. Come, sit next to me.” Nick patted the spot on the bed next to him. Mark settled himself but didn’t move to touch Nick, remaining hesitant. Nick continued, “There’s no doubt in my mind. I never imagined meeting someone in this crazy, new, online world Ken signed me up for, but I did. I love you, and if you agree, I’d like to consider us boyfriends, partners… but only if you’re ready. No pressure.” Mark’s tension visibly disappeared as he crashed their lips together. Nick relished the onslaught, entangling his hands in Mark’s sandy locks. “Do I gather that’s a yes on the subject of being partners?” “Yes, definitely yes.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 59 “Well, okay then. How about my partner takes care of this morning problem I seem to be having?” Nick stuck his tongue in his cheek and winked. “I’d love to, but if I don’t take off right now, I’m going to be late.” “Please don’t tell me you’ve got another meeting with a date from The Male Room.” Nick chuckled. Mark rolled his eyes. “Hardly. I’ve been working on a story, and I’ll be watching it reach its culmination today. I have to go meet a couple of friends who’ve been giving me the inside scoop.” “Wow, that sounds a little too extra, extra, read all about it to me, crossed with a bit of cloak and dagger. Where are you heading?” Nick felt a sudden chill run up his spine. “I can’t say anything about it now. It may sound a bit theatrical, even to you, but I need to maintain the anonymity of my sources. I’ll see you later.” “Mark, I get the feeling you’re not getting the inside track on some celebrity or theater news. This is about that hard news story you’ve been working on, isn’t it?” Biting his lip, Mark nodded. Nick’s desire for relief of his “morning problem” was no longer necessary, but his instincts about people were sending out alarm bells. “It’s dangerous. What you’re doing today could be dangerous.” “I have to go, Nick. I’ve worked a long time for this, long before I met you.” Sitting cross-legged, Nick took Mark’s hands. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 60 “I’ll be with people who know what they’re doing.” “Promise me!” Mark nodded. “As careful as I can be.” He gave Nick a quick peck on the cheek. “I love you and plan to see you later, maybe even for lunch.” “I’ll stay at my place all day. Ken says we need quality writing time.” “Good, I’ll call the minute I’m on my way.” “You’d better.” Mark moved off the bed, reached over to the nightstand, and then threw something on the bed. “What’s that for?” “It’s a key to my apartment and a key to a fire-safe box I keep under the bed. They’re yours.” Nick frowned, understanding the meaning of the gesture. He locked eyes on Mark. “Remember how I feel.” Mark brushed his hand through his hair. “I could never forget.” Before Nick could think of another delaying tactic to try to keep Mark from getting to his appointment, he heard the door slam and realized Mark had already left. Turning the keys over and over in his fingers, Nick felt alone, yet he didn’t feel empty for the first time in years.
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Chapter 10 “HOW could you let him go?” “Stop pacing. You look like the ridiculous cliché of an expectant father.” “Nicky, this is no time to joke,” Ken snapped. “Why did you let him leave?” “I’m not his parent, or his warden,” Nick barked back, despite having asked himself the same question over and over again throughout the afternoon. “He has every right to do whatever he wants. I’m his—” Nick bit off his last words as he watched Ken continue to stride briskly back and forth across their living room. “You’re his what?” Ken halted, turning abruptly to face Nick. “Come on, Nick. It’s time to face it. What are you to Mark?” “Fuck you, Ken. I know what I am to him. I don’t have to run around waving a banner yelling, I have a….” Nick’s voice trailed off. “You can’t even say it! Does he know how much he means to you?” If Nick hadn’t been so angry he’d have been amused at Ken’s outrage. “Of course he knows. We talked about it this morning.” Nick ran his fingers through his hair. “He knows I’m in love with him. Is that what you wanted to hear?” His voice escalating, Nick stood face-to-face with his best friend. “Or
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 62 maybe you want to know that I’ve finally admitted we’re boyfriends, partners, lovers, whatever the hell the PC term is this week! Is that what you were looking for? I haven’t made declarations of commitment, but that’s sure to follow if—” Nick covered his face with his hands. “Oh God, if he comes back to me.” Ken’s voice softened to barely above a whisper. He put his arm around Nick, holding him as Nick began to shake. “He’ll come back to you. This isn’t Alan. Mark wants it all, and he wants it all with you.” “I know he’s working on a hard news story, something big, something dangerous.” Nick pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Damn! Why didn’t I insist he tell me who he’d be with, where he was going, anything? I just let him walk out and leave me with these.” Holding up the keys to the apartment and fire-safe lock box, Nick threw them across the room. “He said he could be back by lunchtime, and now it’s past dinner.” Moving to the small bar cart in the corner of the room, Ken poured Nick a double shot of Chivas. “Here, drink this. It might help for now.” Looking at the glass for a split second, Nick tossed back the drink in one gulp. “I doubt it, but it couldn’t hurt.” Feeling the burn, Nick closed his eyes, willing his phone to ring, announcing Mark’s imminent arrival. Less than five minutes later, the cell phone sounded. Nick nearly dropped it as he pulled it out of his pocket so quickly. “Hello, Mark, where the fuck are you?” “Hi to you too.” “Sorry. I was expecting someone else.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 63 “No kidding. I just wanted you to know the director loves the new pages you emailed over earlier today. The cast will be rehearsing the new sections tomorrow if you want to watch and see how it plays out on the stage.” “I can’t think about that right now. Can we talk tomorrow?” “Sure, sweetie. What’s up? Is everything alright?” “I hope so, Sherry. I’ll get back to you.” Nick hated rushing his and Ken’s manager off the phone, but he couldn’t think about anyone or anything but Mark. A series of police cars, sirens sounding, sped by on the street in front of their building. The noise was so loud it was as if they were driving through the apartment. “I’ve gotta go. Tomorrow.” “Okay, hon. Just keep writing.” “Aye, aye, captain. I wouldn’t want your wallet to get too thin.” “Hey, writing always helps when you’re in a less-thanstellar mood, and for whatever the reason I can tell you’re there. This is not about the money.” “I know. I’m being a drama queen.” Nick rolled his lips inward and whispered, “I hope.” Ken took Nick’s hand and guided him to the sofa. Taking the cell, he placed it on the coffee table in front of them. “I’m going to make you a sandwich. We’ll sit here, talk about some fresh ideas, and wait together.” Nick nodded, although he wasn’t sure if he could be the least bit creative. Ken returned from the kitchen with two plates, filled with chips and sandwiches. He hadn’t made it to his seat
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 64 before the cell shimmied across the table, vibrating as it rang. Checking the caller ID, Nick looked up at his dearest friend. “It’s a hospital.” “Shit!”
NICK grabbed Mark, embracing him tighter than he had intended. “You’re a goddamn asshole, leaving me to wonder and worry all day about where the fuck you were, and dreading what the hell might have happened to you!” Mark leaned on Nick’s shoulder and rubbed his back. “Wow, I didn’t know you had such a trashy mouth. It’s incredible what we learn about each other as time goes by.” Chuckling nervously, Nick crashed his lips onto Mark’s, his hands gripping the sides of his head, the kiss demanding and needy. “I repeat, you’re an asshole. How could you leave me hanging all day?” “It’s a little hard to tell the police officers I was permitted to ride along with on a major meth factory bust that we needed to make a pit-stop so I could check in with my boyfriend. I’m not sure I’d be taken seriously in the future.” “Well, what took them so long? You were gone for twelve fucking hours.” Smiling, Mark ghosted his fingers over Nick’s cheek. “I know, and I’m sorry I worried you.” Ken snorted. “Honey, he passed worried at lunchtime, you should be thinking in terms of out-of-his-mind by midafternoon.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 65 Wrapping his arm around Nick’s waist, Mark nestled his head back into Nick’s shoulder. “Apparently, they needed one last sting while we waited to grab the dealers and manufacturers all at once. I sent in the story while the dealer who got shot was being admitted to the hospital. It’ll be in the papers in the morning. The AP will be distributing it.” “How does someone who writes theater reviews end up on a drug bust, sending stories to the Associated Press?” Ken took a bite of the sandwich that had gone uneaten for almost two hours. “I like writing the light stuff. It makes for a relaxing, consistent living, and I get to see all the plays I want on someone else’s nickel. But I’m a journalist. I need to report the news. It’s part of who I am.” Mark turned to face Nick. “Can you handle it, or is this a deal-breaker?” Nick rested his forehead against Mark’s. “The only dealbreaker is if you put yourself in harm’s way against your better judgment… or decide you want a beard and go in the closet.” The grin across Mark’s face matched the one Nick was sure he was sporting. “I always play safe, and there are definitely no women who will ever share my bed. Besides, my guess is that place is already filled.” “Then I guess we have a deal.” Nick pressed his lips to Mark’s, and the two became lost in each other. Opening his mouth, Nick invited Mark inside. The sound of sniffling in the background invaded the moment. Nick and Mark faced Ken as he was dabbing his eyes. “Oh, Nicky, you know how I love a happy ending.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 66 “Uh huh. Why do I get the feeling my love life is about to become fodder for our next paycheck?” Mark tilted his head. “Does this mean I get a featured role in your next play, metaphorically speaking?” Nick huffed. “Are you kidding? You’ll be one of the stars.” “We should call Sherry,” Ken snickered. “She loves falling asleep with little dollar signs in her eyes, and I get the feeling this one will make her a bundle.”
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Chapter 11 SEATED last row, aisle seat, in the orchestra section of the theater, Nick enjoyed a full view of the audience and their reactions to the opening night performance. Ken sat across the aisle, nervously biting his thumbnail, knowing there would be theater critics in the audience, wondering whether their reviews would be favorable or not, whether they had a hit or a failure on their hands. Glancing at the beautiful blond sitting next to him, Nick leaned in, giving Mark a chaste peck on the cheek and whispering in his ear. “Are you sure you can’t write the review for this show? It would ensure Ken’s sanity.” Mark looked beyond Nick, toward the stewing playwright devouring his fingernail, and smirked. “I’m trying to maintain my reputation and avoid any conflict of interest. Besides, hon, from the looks of it, you won’t have any problem finding extremely flattering quotes from every critic in Manhattan to post on the marquee. “I’ll take that as an expert opinion.” The two sat quietly, holding hands, as the play continued through the crucial final scenes. Nick watched as several people in the audience alternated between dabbing their eyes and laughing out loud. The reactions to the character of Arnie, walking out on his lover and into his wife’s arms at the end of the first act drew gasps and pitiful moans from those watching. As the
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 68 play drew to a close, would the theatergoers accept the love found by the abandoned lover in that most common of twenty-first century places—an online dating service? Nick always questioned his character development, but even more so now when it was the closest reflection of his real life he’d ever written. Ken and he had made a conscious choice to keep the lovers gay. The time was right, and Sherry hadn’t had as much trouble finding backers as she would have a decade earlier. Mark had been kept in the dark about the particulars of the script, and Nick had refused to divulge a single hint about the final scene. As it began, Nick took Mark’s hand between both of his and gently brushed his fingers over his lover’s. When the characters on the stage spoke, Nick hoped Mark would understand the words stemmed from Nick’s heart. After dating for nearly a year, he willed Mark to hear his voice in the dialogue. Knowing they could read each other’s thoughts most times, this was the moment it counted. Nick sat back and watched Mark’s reactions, rather than the characters on stage. “Should we move in together?” “I thought you already had. You’re here six nights out of seven as it is, and my closet has more of your clothes in it than my own.” The performers kiss, smiling broadly at one another. “I mean, should we make it official; as official as the law allows? You know, all that joyous paperwork, Domestic Partnership Agreements, Powers of Attorney and anything
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 69 else to cause significant hand cramp to any gay wanting his partner to become his….” “Husband?” The actors hugged, and the audience oohed and aahed in all the right places. “So, is it a deal?” “Aren’t you forgetting something? Don’t I get the part where you get down on one knee and propose?” “If that’s what it takes.” The characters chuckled together on stage as one goes down on his knee, and the stage lights soften slowly, creating a romantic setting. The audience laughed along as they heard the beginnings of the humorous proposal, the couple on stage offering up a variety of different parameters for their version of marriage within the limits the current law allowed. Nick noticed Ken wringing his hands, and Bobby stilling them to keep him from rubbing his skin raw. He gently removed one hand from where it was holding Mark’s and pulled a signet ring out of his inner jacket pocket and whispered in Mark’s ear. “My mother and father gave me this when I graduated from college. It’s always meant a great deal to me. I won’t get down on one knee, but do you believe in happy, clichéd endings as much as Ken and I do? I’d really like to make this completely autobiographical.” Mark’s eyes widened. He stared at Nick as if he’d sprouted a third eye. “You know if we do this, the play will be even more in demand. Everyone will want to see your play, knowing it truly is art imitating life.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 70 Nick winked. “Yeah, that was the plan the whole time. I fall in love with my one and only online date, and then write a two-act play to make sure it was worth the effort.” “I knew there was a good reason for us to stay together.” Mark offered his hand, and Nick slipped the ring on his finger. “Does this mean I also need to give you a ring to seal the deal?” “You’re damn right, you do. I’m not easy, you know.” “No, you are definitely not easy. But I like a worrisome, loving partner.” Mark brushed his lips over Nick’s and leaned on his shoulder. As the play reached its final moments, a hush fell over the audience when Arnie reappeared. Arnie spots the newly committed lovers in the street as his obviously pregnant wife drags him around shopping for baby clothes. A few grumbles of, “Serves you right,” could be heard throughout the theater. Nick grinned and sat back when the lights faded to black. He reveled in hearing the thunderous ovation given to the actors during the curtain calls. Stepping out of his seat and off to the side, Nick let the rest of the audience pass him on their way out of the theater. Mark told Nick he’d head backstage with Ken and Bobby to congratulate the cast. Alone, relishing the glory of what promised to be a successful premiere, he felt a hand run up his back. “Hi, Nick.” Coughing in shock, Nick held onto the back of the seat at his side. “Alan. What are you doing here?” “I’ve never missed an opening, and when I heard the publicity for this one I knew I needed to be here.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 71 “Where’s the missus?” Nick wanted to remain cool and nonchalant, but it was impossible. He heard the venom in his voice. It was as if someone else was speaking. Alan snorted. “I never bring her to your plays. They’re my way of having time alone with you. I miss our time.” Alan ran his fingers up and down Nick’s arm, a blush rising on his cheeks as he worked his fingers toward Nick’s hand, gripping it briefly. Nick glared at Alan as the last patron of the arts left the theater, leaving them completely deserted. “We were never alone. Your wife, your parents, your insecurities always kept us from truly being alone together.” Alan nodded. “I think of you often.” He reached up, ghosting his fingers over Nick’s cheek and cupping it gently. “We could still enjoy remembering the past.” “You know, Alan, a year ago I would have jumped at the chance to run to the Marriott and make the most of a night with you.” “And now?” Alan questioned coyly as he continued to touch Nick. The sensation prickled at Nick’s skin. Where once Alan’s touch would have aroused desire and longing, all that came to mind now were vivid, painful memories, and feelings of anger and betrayal. His thoughts turned to Mark. “And now I think you’re a pathetic coward. If you’ll excuse me, I have notices to check and a partner who needs and deserves my undivided attention. Oh, and by the way, I have his undivided attention as well. That thing you just saw on stage was completely accurate.” “Don’t you think our history is worth remembering?”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 72 “Only in the same way a person might remember having sat through a root canal. I have to go. Oh, and I won’t tell Sherry I mentioned this since she lives for money, but don’t buy any more tickets to my plays unless you want to keep mooning over something you will never have again.” Nick took a deep cleansing breath, and walked directly backstage to lay a grateful and passionate kiss on the only man he truly loved. He reached the entry to the corridor leading toward the dressing rooms and found Mark leaning against the threshold. “How much did you hear?” “More than enough.” “And you decided not to come to my rescue?” Mark smirked. “You didn’t need saving. Listening to you made me fall in love with you all over again.” “That’s an incredibly cheesy line, too cheesy even for one of my plays.” Swatting Nick gently on the arm, Mark continued. “Then I guess your career will never be threatened by me. I’m filled with cheesy, but honest, lines.” Nick brushed his hand through Mark’s hair. “Does this mean I’ll be getting lucky tonight?” Laughing out loud, Mark winked. “As many times as you want.” Their lips crashed together, the world around them disappearing. Pulling apart, Mark took a deep breath. “Let’s join the others and check out the reviews as soon as they’re released.” Lifting the hand on which Mark wore the ring, Nick tenderly kissed the pads of each finger. “No need. We’re a hit.”
The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol 73 “How do you know?” Gesturing between the two of them, Nick smiled broadly. “Look at the material I had to work with.”
About the Author
Born in Brooklyn, CAROLYN LEVINE TOPOL grew up just outside New York City. Three passions dominated her life: reading, writing, and theater. Having always dreamed of writing her own version of The Great American Novel, it took her many years to discover her most heartfelt stories took their form in the creation of M/M romances. Sharing her writing with a small circle of online friends, Carolyn received advice, encouragement, and joy from their feedback. Spending her days working as an executive assistant in a synagogue, Carolyn relishes the quiet wee hours of the morning to lose herself in writing of the loves, passions, and adventures driving her characters. With the backing of a supportive husband and two young adult children, Carolyn continues to explore the fabulous world of gay romance with the philosophy “Every person deserves their happy ending.” Visit Carolyn’s web site at http://www.carolynlevinetopol.com and her blog at http://carolyn-l-topol.livejournal.com You can contact her at
[email protected].
The Male Room novellas from CAROLYN LEVINE TOPOL
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Also from CAROLYN LEVINE TOPOL
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Copyright
The Playwright ©Copyright Carolyn LeVine Topol, 2011 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Paul Richmond http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America August 2011 eBook Edition eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-925-6
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