The saga of Dallas in Wonderland continues. Last time we saw Dallas, he just had a liplock placed on him by Dr. Levi. How far will they go? Don't forget to check out the rest of the Silver Flashers, whose links can be found at the end of this post. Now, on to the story!
Dallas in Wonderland #6
Dallas tasted licorice. And alcohol. Absinthe, perhaps? His nostrils filled with the scent of Dr. Levi’s soft skin, even as he occupied his mouth—a rich, spicy scent that he couldn’t quite place, but one his body was definitely reacting to . The other man’s tongue was demanding proprietary rights which Dallas gladly gave, his submission invoking a heartfelt moan.
Instinctively, Dallas reached for him, his arms seeking to wind themselves about Dr. Levi’s slender body, his fingers aching to bury themselves in that auburn hair, touch that lengthy plait. But his digits closed on thin air. Dallas opened his eyes to find that he was alone on the bench, his mouth bereft, still tingling from the contact. There was no sign of the doctor.
Dallas took a deep breath, swallowed, sat back against the hard wood, digging his fingers into his thighs to anchor himself before he did something incredibly stupid—like jumping up and searching for the elusive man of mystery. What was this, his modus operandi? Kiss and run? Tease and go? What the hell game was he playing?
And why did Dallas want to keep playing the game so very badly?
Dallas felt like a child who’s been offered a piece of candy and then had it horribly yanked away just as he began to savor the sweet. Was he being punished—or teased? He forced himself to breathe deeply, to drive back his indecision and focus on his nephew. He had Oz to take care of, he reminded himself, injecting reality back into the situation. H couldn’t be gallivanting after ghosts. He glanced toward his nephew, who seemed oblivious to the scene that had just taken place. As was everyone else, apparently. Good. There were no witnesses to the puncturing of Dallas’s ego, no observers as the sad little balloon of his libido deflated, shriveling into a heap of wounded vanity.
A wave of nausea overtook him, filling his mouth with a bitter bile. He doubled over, even as he reminded himself to breathe. He deserved it, of course. That’s what he got for thinking someone like Dr. Levi could possibly find him attractive. He should have known better. Especially after the disaster that was Quentin Mandrake. Maybe he should schedule an appointment with the campus shrink, before he fell apart any more.
NO!
For a moment, Dallas was afraid that he’d spoken the word aloud, but a quick glance about reassured him that it was simply the insistent voice inside his head. The one telling him never to give up, no matter what. Not to let these men get to him. Damn straight, he was better than that, he deserved to be treated better. To hell with Quentin. To hell with Dr. Levi. He took a deep cleansing breath and slowly released it.
Tonight he would focus on having fun with Oz. Starting with a pizza dinner for two. He knew just the place.
******
Chaucer’s Pizza was situated a short distance from the campus. Little surprise that a large part of its repeat clientele consisted of students from the university. Dallas had been a frequent habitué himself before moving into his apartment. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed the place until he took Oz there for dinner.
They squeezed into a booth against the wall. The restaurant was lively tonight. Its interior was simple and rustic. Warm wood tones, decorated in orange and brown, the college colors. An open doorway separated the restaurant from the bar; the sounds of enjoyment spilled over, spreading camaraderie over all.
Dallas gave the waitress their order, watching her disappear into the noisy throng. He poured Oz a glass of root beer from the pitcher he’d ordered, unwrapped a straw and set it into the drink. His nephew was soaking in the sights, especially enchanted by some of the photographs on the wall. A rogue’s gallery of former patrons, some of whom had met less than pleasant ends. Nothing too graphic, intended more to satisfy prurient curiosity than fulfill any sense of bloodlust.
“Hey you, where you been hiding?”
Dallas glanced up at the voice, frowning. At the sight of the speaker, his brow relaxed. “Hey Brenda,” he
said.
A busty brunette with a wide smile hung over the table. She gave Oz a curious glance. “Have you been gone longer than I think?” she quipped.
“Funny.” Dallas shook his head. “This is Paris’ boy, Oz. Oz, say hello to my friend Brenda.”
“Hello to my friend Brenda,” Oz quickly replied.
“Ooh, he’s a bright one, just like his uncle.” Brenda laughed, motioning toward him with her hip. Dallas took the hint and moved before she ended up in his lap. “I noticed I hadn’t seen you around the dorm in a long time. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I moved off-campus, that’s all.” Dallas shrugged.
“Do you mean that—?”
Dallas cut off her next words with a quick finger against his lips. She gave him a blank stare.
“That means you’re not supposed to tell,” Oz offered helpfully.
“Okay, I get it.” She chuckled, reaching for his glass of soda, and taking a drink. “That’s good. They make it here, you know.”
“I know. I’ve eaten here before, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. So when you going to invite me to see your new digs?”
“Soon,” he promised. “I’ll give you a call.”
“Brenda, what the hell? We sent you for a round of beers, didja get lost?”
“Keep your pants on.” She stuck out her tongue at the newcomer.
“Oh hey, Dallas, didn’t see you there.”
“Hey Monroe. Don’t yell at your sister, she just stopped by to say hello for a minute.”
“She doesn’t know the meaning of a minute!” The blond laughed, even as his sister reluctantly stood.
“Call me soon, right?”
“Promise.”
She reluctantly tore herself away, following her irate brother to the bar, as Dallas lifted his glass and drank.
“She your girlfriend?”
Dallas began to choke at the words.
to be continued
