NYMPHO BABE - MANxMAN

Chapter 9

SAMUEL

 

 

 

“Why is she always hugging that cactus pot around?” We parked the car and I was the first that moved out of the car, from the passenger’s seat and the sun was beating down my neck. It was a glorious day and I began to hate the sunniness.

“Shh! Don’t be so loud, she might hear you.”

Troy was not dressed in drag at the moment since his alter ego would only be presented so remarkably at night because he’s a comercial photographer by day. He could easily pull off both feminine and masculine looks without a doubt and he didn’t need to show off with bulging muscles for his day look.

“There’s no need for that. I could hear you so well.”

I just love their friendly dynamics.

An Arab-American lesbian and a crossdressing gay man, living under one roof for more than five years now. Oh did I forget to mention that she’s HIV positive too? So yeah, I’m basically the new addition to their unlikely pair and he insisted that we should be called the Trifecta.

She would have him more than necessary and spewing out harsh words as replies. He was already so used to her mean, sarcastic front and she dismissed me the first time we met that night two weeks ago. She was all-rounded eccentric and lonely and snarky – which is just my favorite type of lesbian.

“She’s in love with that cactus.”

“Don’t you even dare come up with that stupid lesbian joke again.”

“Your vajayjay doesn’t concern me the slightest, hunty.”

Their quarrels would always seem one-ended and her feistiness molded so well his carefree, reckless and genuinely sweet personality. Two opposing bestfriends fated to be together and I truly envy that for some obvious reasons.

“Your ass is as dryer than the desert where my cactus come from, dickwat.”

“Do you guys always behave this way with each other?”

“What is it to you huh, pretty boy?”

“Well I was just asking…” I scratched the back of head while we walk next to each other up the stairs leading towards the holy temple up on the hill. It was my first time here but it clearly wasn’t theirs. She was being snappy at me again, well I suppose it was part of her DNA.

“Don’t be too harsh on him, hunty.”

“Stop calling me hunty, how many times do I have to tell you that?” She scoffed, hugging the ‘magic cactus’ pot closer to her chest as we started to ascend the cement stairs with the jutting tops of the red temple looming above us. “The kid’s 22 he’s fourteen years younger than me and twelve years younger than you.”

“He’s the new addition to our group and the initiation ritual starts here.”

“At a Buddhist temple?”

“Yup, the best one in all of East Coast.”

He was vibrant and beautiful despite our common infliction. He had been diagnosed earlier than me of course but the disease didn’t really rob away the youth from him and he remained as active as he should be. The progression must have been slowed down, who knows for sure…

The Lebanese lady was clearly of mixed blood – partly white somewhere in there – and sometimes she would flung cursewords at me in French, knowing that I would be the only one understanding it since Troy is clueless with ‘other’ languages, as he coined it.