Make Me by Charlotte Stein Page B

tablecloths.
    But Tyler doesn’t seem to care. We could be anywhere, to him. We could be in a filthy alley, getting ready to make some sort of seedy exchange.
You can hear what I have to say, if you give me the stuff first
.
    Though of course the stuff, in this instance, is Tyler’s hand in Brandon’s lap.
    Good Lord, he absolutely has a hand in Brandon’s lap.
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘You do know. Tell us. We’ve told you. Now you tell us.’
    It seems only fair, when he puts it like that.
    ‘Well, you know. Just ordinary things, really. I used to imagine that instead of studying, we’d … kiss.’
    ‘How scandalous,’ Tyler says, then for extra emphasis he does something to Brandon that makes Brandon very unhappy. Or absolutely ecstatic, depending on your point of view. His face turns pink and his mouth comes open, which looks like a good thing. But he also turns his head away from the main hub of the restaurant, and jerks a hand down over Tyler’s – like an appeal to stop.
    I think. I think.
    ‘And was there anything else, aside from kissing?’
    ‘I can’t say it here.’
    ‘Why not? I’m stroking Bran’s cock here. In fact, I’ve done it before. He loves a bit of public exhibitionism. Don’t
you
, Maisie? Don’t you like seeing him try to pretend that he’s not getting off right now? And all of these people, too … all of them so smooth and suave and pristine. What would they think, if they knew you were wet over watching me masturbate another man?’
    For the first time in my life I wish I enjoyed the taste of wine. I could really do with drinking a whole glass of the stuff, right now – down in one. Or maybe I could get away with signalling a waiter, and ordering something stiffer.
    Like battery acid.
    ‘Maybe we should go. I think you’re making him uncomfortable,’ I say, though that’s still only partially true. Brandon’s now studying the wall by Tyler’s head with a kind of furtive, jerky intensity, but at the same time, I can tell how much he’s enjoying this. His teeth are deep in his lower lip, and that hand he’s got over Tyler’s …
    I don’t think he’s restraining it, exactly.
    ‘I tell you what, Maisie. We can go, when you give me a fantasy. Just one fantasy you used to have about us,’ Tyler says.
    I rack my brains, I really do. But mostly what I come up with is:
We all sit in a restaurant while you masturbate Brandon under the table. And eventually maybe my eyes fall out of my head.
    ‘Come on,’ he says, only this time I don’t struggle half as much. Instead my head floods with memories of things that didn’t actually happen, like the fuck they never gave me, right after they’d finished covering me with their come. Brandon and then Tyler? I wonder. Or both at the same time?
    And then I just blurt it out. ‘OK. OK. Sometimes I used to imagine you … one of you having sex with me. And maybe the other …
you know
.’
    Tyler’s eyes narrow to slits for those last two words, and I know what’s coming next. My doom, that’s what. I’m done for here.
    ‘I’m afraid we don’t know, do we, Brandon?’ he says and, as he does so, his arm jerks in a very particular sort of way – one that makes Brandon have to stifle a moan, into his fist. ‘Maybe you should explain a little more fully.’
    I grit my teeth, but manage to get something out. ‘You understand what I’m saying,’ I tell him, but he gives me nothing, absolutely nothing. No quarter now. It’s too late for holding back and being coy.
    ‘I don’t. You’re really going to have to be more graphic.’
    I get a little flash of him teasing me, with that thick cock of his – rubbing it over my cheek and my lips, until I open up for him.
    ‘I suck your cock,’ I say, under my breath. But under my breath isn’t good enough for Tyler. The words on their own aren’t enough for Tyler. He wants more, before I’m even willing to give it.
    ‘You can do better than that, Maisie,’ he says, and the