K. Bromberg - Bend

That sucks.

I enjoyed working with Cain and the others at these receptions, but the most enjoyable ones were those that had a bar set up. Cain usually allowed me to work the bar and the tips were pretty substantial.

A couple of the other girls had pissed and moaned a bit because they were full-time employees, not a fill-in like I was when one of the other workers wanted a Saturday off. Cain had explained his rationale to them: He was the boss, and if they didn't like it, then fucking go somewhere else.

Bahahaha!!

Jake and Connie came in; rolling a cart that had the wedding cake and punch bowl on it.

"Damn," I said, wrinkling my nose, "How big is this reception? That cake looks like it could feed a hundred people."

I looked around and saw that the tables were set up for about forty people max, not counting the wedding party which was set for six.

"Hah," Jake snorted with a smile, "Just wait until you see the newlyweds." I shrugged and continued with arranging the place settings.

Cain returned with the silver coffee service, Styrofoam cups along with the cream and sugar packets. "This is going to be a hot and cold appetizer buffet, Paige. So when you're finished up with the tables, can you give Julie some help getting the food table set up?"

"Sure thing, sweetie," I replied, tossing him a smile.

I had worked enough of these things to know the signs by now. This was a 'no-frills' reception. First clue: Booze-less. Second clue: an appetizer buffet that consisted of miniature pigs-in-a-blanket, chicken wings, deviled eggs (sans Cayenne pepper) potato salad, baked beans and potato chips.

We had barely gotten everything into place and the punch bowl filled, when the door to the church basement opened, and guests started piling in. The wedding party was close behind and then I got it.

Oh dear Lord.

The bride and groom had to have a combined weight of over six hundred pounds. The rest of the wedding party wasn't far behind. Thus the reason for the 7-tiered wedding cake, I presumed.

Music streamed through speakers placed around the room from a Spotify playlist of traditional love songs for weddings. I watched as the bride and groom interacted with one another and their guests. I hadn't realized that Cain had come up behind me as I released a wistful sigh.

"Something wrong?" he asked, placing his hands on my shoulders, startling me a bit, and then massaging them back into relaxation.

I shrugged, and then nodded slightly. "Look at them, Cain," I said softly, "Their love for one another is so beautiful and, I don't know, it kind of makes them look beautiful to me, you know?"

"Well who would've thought that our Paige was such a closet romantic?" he teased. "Wait until I share this with Eli."

"Oh stop," I said, smacking him playfully. "I've got no ax to grind with romance; romance just seems to have an ax to grind with me, I guess."

"Why would you say that?" he questioned, pulling me around to face him. "Is this about that fucking idiot, Darin?"

His eyes were once again piercing through me. Cain was so freaking intense sometimes that it gave me chills. I shivered, and his hands were quick to rub my back and shoulders gently, but he was still waiting for an answer.

"No—it's not about him," I replied. "It's more about me. I mean, is there something about me—some sort of repulse pheromone I'm giving off? Never mind—you aren't exactly the demographic I'm looking for anyway."

Shit.

I saw the fire flash in his eyes at the comment. I hadn't meant it like that…exactly. I mean, what the hell? Posing a question like that to a gay dude wasn't exactly fair, was it?

"Outside, now," he ordered, taking me by the arm and pulling me alongside of him. "You and I need to take a break."

Once outside, Cain found a concrete bench off to the side of the church, in a grassy area that had a statue of the Blessed Mother behind it.

"Sit," he ordered.

I sat down, waiting for him to take a seat, but he remained standing.

"First of all, sweetheart, you need to shed some of your pre-conceived notions about alternative lifestyles. Contrary to what you seem to think, homosexuals and bisexuals all don't fall into one neat little category that is black and white, okay?"

I nodded, and started to speak, but he raised his hand, his index finger pointing at me to remain quiet.

"Secondly, you've been with Eli and me long enough that we've both seen what you're doing. We've discussed it amongst ourselves, to be honest."

I quirked an eyebrow, hoping like hell that he intended to clue me in on their assessment.

"Paige," he sighed, "You are bright and beautiful and sexy as fuck, don't you get that? But—what we see in you is the need you have to treat men as either total sex objects, with which to pleasure yourself at leisure—and granted, this information is second-hand from Darcy through Lindsey, but when you do try to focus on something more substantive, you select the type of guy that isn't game for anything but leisure sex. And that is first-hand knowledge from our own observation. Baby, you seem to set yourself up for failure all around."

I was thoughtful for a moment, reflecting upon his words, knowing that he was onto me. Eli too. They hadn't been fooled one little bit. I was a hot mess.

"So, babe, to answer your question in there? No. You're not putting out some 'repulse' pheromone. And whether I'm bisexual or not, I would know, just as Eli knows, you simply need to put yourself out there to the right guy and there won't be a doubt in that pretty little head of yours when it's right."

"You're bisexual?" I asked, swallowing hard. "I mean…does Eli know?"

He threw his head back and I heard his deep, rich laugh, something that was rare with Cain. "Oh yeah, he knows. He's fine with it. Well, he's maybe more than fine with it, to be honest."

My eyebrows once again traveled up my forehead.

Cain continued, "Eli's bisexual as well—or maybe I should say he's a closet bi," he said, giving me a wink.

"It kind of came out in 'couples therapy,' and I swear to God if you tell him that I mentioned couples therapy, I'll fucking hunt you down," he warned, giving me a faux stern look.

"Really? Couples therapy?"

He rolled his eyes in a very delightful way, almost shy-like. "Yeah, we went through some…shit a while back. It's all good now, but we needed to bring things out into the open to build up our trust in one another. Eli had never told me that he had been married—very briefly—the summer before he went to college. Shocked the hell out of me," he said, shaking his head.

"So, why do you say he's a closet bi?"

I mean, what the hell? I'd heard of closet gays, but I pretty much thought bisexuals were out with it, if they went both ways like that.

"Well, although he finds members of both genders sexually appealing, he's made a choice to have only one sexual preference at the moment. He said chicks are too high-maintenance," he finished, giving me a cocky smile.

Oh. What. Ever.

"As if anyone would ever categorize Eli as being low maintenance," I scoffed absently.

This brought a smile from Cain as he stepped forward, drawing me into his arms. His hand gently brushed through my hair, and I felt his full lips graze my forehead, as I relaxed into his warm embrace. It was comforting and it felt right for some reason.

"All I want to tell you, Paige, is to stop hiding behind your dual facades," he murmured. "If you stop doing things for attention, and you start being who you're meant to be, I think your need for romance and commitment will be satisfied. Sometimes, it's right there in front of you."

He gave me a peck on the cheek, and released me from his grasp. "Now, come on, babe. We have a wedding cake to start slicing."

I watched him as I trailed behind him, feeling a warm, fluttery feeling in the pit of my belly as I contemplated his words.

'Sometimes it's right there in front of you…'

Was there some hidden meaning in his words, or was I simply reading too much into his kindness and concern?

I would never do anything to hurt Eli, no matter how close Cain and I had become over the past couple of months. And then again, what had Cain meant when he said that Eli was 'more than fine with it'? Did that mean that Eli…?

Too many questions; too few answers. I was totally confused. I needed to hook up. I knew exactly what was going to be on my agenda tonight.

"That's it, baby. Good girl. Take it all."

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, as Travis buried his long, thick, sheathed cock into me, backed out, and then plunged it in again deeply, grunting his pleasure.

Travis?

Maybe his name is actually Trevor…what the fuck. Who cares?

"Does it feel good, baby? Do you like the feel of Trevor's cock ramming into your pussy like this, huh?"

It's Trevor…right. Random Trevor, referring to himself in the third person. Lovely.

"Yeah, baby," I murmured. "You're the fucking best," I lied, wishing he'd get his nut, because I sure as hell wasn't going to get mine with this ass-hat.

The problem was, he totally had a Bud-Lite hard-on going, and I knew that meant it would be a while before he came.

"That's right, baby," he whispered, groaning and smothering my lips with wet, beer-flavored kisses. "You're going to scream when Trevor makes you come."

Seriously?

Aannd…that's a wrap.

"Get the fuck off of me," I finally said, before clamping my mouth shut and turning my head away from him. "Now," I said, louder.

He stopped his thrusting momentarily, as if my words weren't totally registering in his drunken brain. He didn't pull out of me though, and I was getting really pissed.

"Did you hear me?" I yelled, using my hands to push against his chest, trying to get his long, muscular frame off of me.

"What the fuck?" he asked, loudly. "I ain't goin' nowhere just yet," he remarked, shifting his weight so that my hands were smashed between the both of us as he continued humping me.

"I said stop!" I screamed as loudly as possible. "I want you out of me and out of here!" I yelled into his left ear.

"Fuckin' bitch," he growled, fisting my hair so that my head snapped back.

I thrashed around underneath him, my legs getting twisted up in the sheets, my fists pummeling against his bare chest.

"I said get off of me," I shouted.

Suddenly, I heard my bedroom door open and slam loudly against the wall, startling Trevor enough that his unwelcome thrusting stopped.

In seconds flat, his weight was lifted off of me, and he was slammed unceremoniously against my bedroom wall, where he slid the rest of the way down into a naked heap on the floor.

It was Cain. He was pissed…dark eyes flashing, his fists clenched at his side.

“You have about two fucking seconds to get the fuck out of here,” Cain growled out the quiet threat, “Before I reinvent the term, blue balls. Got me?”

Eli was there now as well, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and wearing nothing but cotton sweats and a concrete look of concern.

I scurried out of the bed, gripping the white sheets around my scantily-clad form and watched as Trevor ineptly got to his feet with no sheet and a deflated hard-on.

Eli, now entirely awake, helped him find his clothes by tossing them at him. And if denim could ever give a person a black eye, I’m pretty sure that’s what they did as Trevor not-so-successfully tried to catch his pants.

I watched as Eli gripped Trevor’s arm just as he was zipping up and began to lead him out of the room.

“Get the fuck off me, fag!” Trevor wrenched his arm free.

“Yeah…,” I heard Eli reply as he shoved Trevor through the open door, “Not goin’ to happen, asshole.”

Their heavy steps down the stairs and Trevor’s drunken insults were the only sound in the 2 a.m. house as I stood there still staring at the door, trying to process the rapid chain of events that just went down.

Hoooly shit!

I looked over at the other person in the room, “Cain, I’m so sor—”