Suber: The Uber of Sex (Queer Erotica Short Stories)

Part 17: Trent & Daisy

Trent had already changed shirts four times. For the second time, he assessed the white button-up patterned with small lines of happy ghosts. He looked his reflection up and down—the black slacks fit well, except for his round hips, but the length of the shirt mostly covered them. Then he turned to the side, frowning at his protruding chest and belly.

"Fuck." Sitting down on the bed, Trent scrubbed a hand over his face. This is stupid. This is going to be humiliating. Why did I think this was a good idea?

Of course, Daisy was gorgeous. He could hardly believe it when he saw her picture. Sure, he'd requested a blonde, full-figured woman—just like Melanie, which he admitted was probably awful for multiple reasons—but that didn't prepare him for Daisy. Round-faced, with a bright smile, sparkling eyes and wavy hair with shades of platinum, gold and copper, Daisy wasn't what Trent thought of when he pictured sex workers. He should've known better than to make assumptions. He was happy to let it go, and even happier that Daisy was coming to see him.

That was yesterday. And it was hard to recall that light-hearted optimism. Sitting on his bed, minutes from Daisy's arrival, confidence as thin as the threads of his shirt, Trent tried desperately not to think of Melanie, and the disappointment darkening her elegant features when he told her he was a man.

The knock at the door made him jerk upright. His heart knocked against his bound chest. Shit. Shit. Oh shit.

Pulse thundering, his strode quickly to the front door. Just tell her you made a mistake. That's all. Taking as deep a breath as the binder would allow, Trent opened the door. He opened his mouth to speak, about to apologize and tell her it was all a mistake—but then he saw her.

"Hi!" Daisy's smile lit up the doorway. From her white teeth to her shining eyes to her long, soft hair, she seemed to glow. She was a painting of glowing curves, from her thick hips in tight, light-blue jeans, to her voluptuous belly and delicate breasts, hidden but tempting in her form-fitted, red top.

She shrugged a bare shoulder coyly up to her apple cheeks. "Can I come in?"

Trent shook himself. "Yes, God, sorry." He stood aside. As she passed, he tried to steal another look over her body. Her sharp eyes caught him with a look over her shoulder, and she smiled.

"I see you lookin'."

Trent put his gaze into the floor. "I'm sorry." A touch on his arm made him jolt, and look up.

"Honey, that's what I'm here for." Her hands moved up his arms and gently squeezed. "Ooh." Her eyebrow rose once and her smile turned sly. "Strong arms."

Blush ran through Trent's face like wildfire. He tried to contain a smile, but couldn't. "Th-thanks."

"C'mon, Hon, let's have a sit." Moving to the couch, she waited for him to sit first, then curled up close, her knees resting on his. Trent could barely breathe.

With the echo of a long-lost Southern accent, her voice was both disarming and alluring, just like her presence. Half of Trent was wincing, retreating, waiting for her to change her mind and begging to ask her to leave. His other half loved sitting with her, feeling the warmth of her body, longing to touch her, kiss her. She was similar to Melanie in some ways, but her presence was completely different. Melanie was effortlessly superior, with a cool, self-assured nonchalance that made everyone else invisible. Already, Daisy felt different; she was warm, welcoming, and bright with confidence that even Trent could feel in himself.

"So, this is your first time."

"Huh?" Puffing out a breath, he shook his head. "No, I've had plenty of, of times."

She giggled softly and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Your first time on Suber."

"Oh. Oh. Uhm, yeah, it, it is." With a dry laugh, he ran his sweaty palms over his pants. "I, uh, I guess I'm a little nervous."

"Totally understandable. But don't worry about a thing." She winked. "It gets easier, I promise."

Another dry laugh. I doubt that. The closer someone gets, the most complicated it is.

He didn't respond, and Daisy's gaze drifted to the wall, and the pictures Trent forgot were there. "Ooooh." She nodded slowly. "I get it." She nodded towards the photo. "Crush or ex?"

Trent turned to look. The bottom framed picture was him—looking much different, but still him—and Melanie, beautiful as ever. "Oh my God. I forgot all about that. Jesus. I'm sorry."

She shrugged a shoulder. "No big. Hon, you're not the first person to want to hook up with his ex. Hell, I've been there myself."

"No, it's not like..." He sighed. "Now I look like a total creep. It's not like that. It's just... the way we broke up was kinda..." He couldn't finish.

"What?" She gently rubbed his shoulder.

The binder straps over his shoulders suddenly felt heavy as lead.

"Tell me. I'm all ears." Daisy watched him, her brown eyes gentle as candlelight.

"She's—a lesbian. And I'm... not." Trent stared down at the sofa. "It's just... really hard."

"I'm so sorry, Trent." Her voice was quiet. "I can't imagine what that must feel like."

Thinking of Melanie hurt, but hearing his name on Daisy's lips still made him smile. "I like that."

"What?"

"When you say my name." He looked up at her once, imploringly.

She smiled. "Trent. I love that name." Her hand slid over his shoulder to his neck and traced his ear. Warm sparks skittered down his neck, through his chest, and lower. "Trent."

Trent studied her. She was close; he could see every detail of her lips, the smooth glossy surfaces like glass and the small creases in between.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against hers. It was a quick moment drawing out, turning long, making his quick heartbeats seem slow. Leaning back an inch, Trent gently exhaled, and smiled.

"You're really pretty," he said softly. The words leapt from his mouth before he could stop. He winced; it was painfully corny.

She giggled and kissed him. With one hand through his short hair, her other hand moved down his chest. The warm sparks that grew warmer as he kissed her, suddenly faded.

Trent took her hand. "I, uh..."

"You don't like that?"

His face heated. He looked away. "I'm just a little self-conscious, I guess." She laughed. Trent glanced at her, stung. He frowned. "Is that funny?"

"No. It's not that." She smiled. "I am too. Self-conscious."

Trent studied her. "You?"

Her smile turned bashful. This time, she looked away. "I have some scars. Just so you're not surprised."

He wanted to kiss her again. Touching her cheek, he met her eyes. He realized his heart had stopped pounding. "I am surprised. In the best way." 

To be continued... 

... 

Author's note: 

Happy Pride, all! :) :) :) 

I haven't forgotten about my other request! Trent will have a soft and sultry evening with lovely Daisy next week ( :D ) and our next character will use neopronouns! (If that's not your thing, totally fine, just no comments plz [the Wattpad community has been super positive, so I probably don't need to say this :) ])