The Playwright

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Chapter 1

“I

CAN

’

believe you did this without my permission!” Nick

was fuming. He couldn’t imagine the audacity of his best
friend, roommate, and cowriter.

“I’ll tell you what gives me the right. I’ve been watching

you work, work, work all day and all night without going on
a single date in as long as I can remember.” Ken stood with
his hands on his hips like some put-upon housewife.

“It’s paid off, hasn’t it? We have two plays running Off

Broadway and two in production. Not too shabby for two
thirty-five-year-old men from Upstate New York.” Nick
pushed his shaggy, too-long hair off his forehead and rubbed
his temples.

“But you’re a healthy man, too, and you need some

companionship. I worry about you. You’re becoming a
hermit.”

“I’m not becoming a hermit! I went out just two nights

ago.”

“With our producer and his wife. Even if she is his

beard, what is he, like seventy-two years old? Hardly fucking
fodder.”

“Give it up with the cute alliterations. I’m not

impressed.”  Nick  stared  at  the  computer  screen  again.  The
profile  of  the  newest,  upcoming  online  dating  service  for
gays,  The  Male  Room,  was  plastered  across  the  screen.
Below  it  was  the  list  of  their  newest  clients.  Next  to  his

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assigned number, he glared once again at the lead to his
blurb: “Hot, hunky homo with fantastic imagination.”

“It’s the truth. You are hot to people who aren’t your

BFF.”

“Stop talking in computereze. I may puke.”
“Well, I may puke if I have to leave you here alone one

more time while I actually have a social life. At least one of
us is dating.”

“I date. What about that guy last Saturday night?”
“What was his name?” Ken smirked, his eyes bright as

he realized he was about to prove his point.

Nick stood up from his chair at the computer desk, and

crossed the room to stand directly in front of Ken. “I don’t
remember. We only had one date.”

“It’s not a date if all you do is dance for five minutes, get

a blow job, and then leave without exchanging names or
phone numbers. I believe, if my off-computereze is still up to
date, that’s called tricking, my friend.”

Nick ground his teeth. “Shut up.”
“The truth hurts, honey.” Ken’s voice softened. “Look,

how can you write about romance and love if you never give
yourself a chance to experience it?”

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re my writing partner. You

can fill in all those blanks.” Nick brushed his hand through
his hair. He really did need a haircut. His hair was too wavy
to let it go this long. He knew he was beginning to look like
an out-of-date hippy.

“Job security is great. But I don’t think my place in this

partnership would suffer if you actually had some life

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experience.” Ken put his arm around Nick’s shoulders. The
two men stood silently side-by-side.

“I did try the love route once. You must remember.” Nick

bit his lip, thinking back to a time when he thought he’d
found the man he could spend the rest of his life with.

“Oh, Nicky, how could I forget? That asshole was buried

so deep in his self-made closet that, instead of marrying the
person he loved, he married the person his parents loved. If
my mother’s gossip is still accurate, his wife is pregnant with
their third child.”

“I can’t go through something like that again.” Nick

hated sounding defeated, but he knew his words and feelings
were safe with Ken.

“That’s why you start with an online dating service that

caters to men like us.”

“And who’s to say one of these guys isn’t in the closet?”
“The pictures. Everyone has to submit a picture. Let’s

face it. People in the closet do not want to advertise at a
homo site. They’re looking for anonymous hook-ups.”

Nick looked in a nearby mirror. It was summer in

Manhattan, and his tan was perfect, achieved the old
fashioned way, through hours of jogging. He was kind of hot.
At just shy of six feet tall, he had a six pack, and his arms
were toned. Despite approaching middle age, he even still
had all his hair.

“Okay.”
Ken’s eyes brightened as if he had just won a prize.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, we’ll see if I get any nibbles worth a dinner.”

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“You’ll get plenty. And then we can finally double-date

like we’d always planned.”

“I thought you were doing this for me.” Nick grinned.
“I’m doing this for you, your writing, and our mutual

social lives. Could there be a better set of motivators?”

“You know, you can be such a geek.” Nick poked Ken in

the ribs.

“I may be a geek, but I’m a geek with a boyfriend and a

successful career.” Ken winked. “Now it’s time to work on my
fabulous physique. Keeping up a swimmer’s build isn’t easy
after you turn twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-eight?” Nick snorted.
“I feel twenty-eight; therefore I am twenty-eight.” Ken

spun around as if modeling the jeans and wife-beater he was
wearing.

“Sometimes you can be so gay.”
“Bobby loves it that way.”
“By the way, how old did you make me in my profile,

since I haven’t dared to read it yet?”

Ken looked away and started running toward his

bedroom. “Gotta go. The gym waits for no man, and I have a
date tonight—a real date.”

Nick opened up his online profile at The Male Room. His

eyes widened. “Thirty!” He yelled loud enough for Ken to hear
him in his bedroom. “How come you get to be twenty-eight
and I’m thirty?”

“You’ll look and feel much younger once you start

dating. Besides, I always think of you as more mature
anyway.”

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“Asshole!”
“Get a man, one whose name is worth remembering.”

After  putting  on  a  T-shirt  and  Vans,  Ken  grabbed  his  gym
bag  and  started  to  walk  out  the  door.  “I’ll  be  home  in  a
couple  of  hours.  We  can  work  on  the  scene  the  director
doesn’t like, although I think it’s perfect.”

“Of course you do, you wrote it.”
“My point exactly.” Ken’s words were punctuated by the

slamming of the door as he left the apartment.

Nick sat down again at the computer. “So how creative

have you been lately?” He started to read his online persona,
courtesy of the creative genius he lived with.

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Chapter 2

“

ELL

, at least he got my body-type right.” Nick spoke aloud

in the empty apartment. “I’m glad he made me sound
somewhat appealing. Although, who the hell wants to date a
thirty-year-old, when there are plenty of younger hotties
online?”

Scrolling through some of the profiles, looking for a

possible match, one that might be worth a second look or
more, Nick started to laugh. “Doesn’t anyone tell their real
age anymore? Some of these guys should have used Grecian
Formula before posting their pictures. At least I can pass for
thirty!”

Spending the next half-hour ripping apart the faults of

each  online  candidate,  he  decided  to  step  away  from  the
computer  to  get  a  drink.  Returning  with  a  tall  glass  of
lemonade,  he  noticed  a  small  number  four  in  the  message
box next to his name.

“Okay, Ken, you want me to find some fodder to add

romance to our writing, let’s see who thinks I’d be perfect for
him.”

Clicking on the first guy, Nick came dangerously close to

spitting  a  mouthful  of  lemonade  on  the  screen.  “What  the
fuck!  That  guy’s  probably  not  even  legal!  How  the  hell  do
kids  like  this  get  past  the  initial  screening?  Forget  about
asking for a birth certificate; the company should have asked
for a high school ID.”

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The next two links supported Nick’s Grecian-Formula

theory. “These two guys are probably old enough to be my
father. Thirty-five and forty my ass—although I bet that’s
what they’re after—a hot piece of ass.”

Losing interest fast, he ventured into candidate number

four’s profile. He wasn’t half bad: blue eyes, sandy blond hair
in a color too natural looking to have been poured out of a
bottle, and an impressive six-pack, shown off to perfection
by a very good quality digital photo.

Looking further he spotted the name. “Mark.” He found

the  tab  for  More  Information  and  discovered  Mark  lived  in
Manhattan,  too,  and  was  a  self-proclaimed  theater  junkie
who wished he had the time to see every production on and
off  Broadway.  The  final  stop  was  age.  Nick  sat  back  and
smiled. “Thirty-one. And from the looks of your picture, you
may have actually told the truth, Mark.”

Scanning the room, as if he thought there must be a

hidden  camera  stashed  somewhere,  Nick  clicked  the  accept
link  next  to  Mark’s  request.  He  typed  in  a  local  coffee  bar,
not  part  of  either  the  Starbucks  or  Dunkin’  Donuts  chains,
and  suggested  meeting  there  at  eight.  Now  it  was  wait-and-
see time.

Nick gazed at the picture. “You’re probably already

taken, or if not, you have some major league flaw.”

He stood up, abandoned the computer, and decided to

go out for a run to clear his head. “Ken, you’ve always gotten
me into trouble. Hell, it was your fault my parents found out
I was gay long before I was ready to tell them.”

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While Nick had stayed at home playing video games, his

friend had been brave enough to come out to the world at
just fourteen, and he’d reaped the rewards of that bravery.

Nick snorted, remembering Ken’s untimely visit after his

sixteen-year-old friend’s first boyfriend had told him he was
too  skinny  and  dumped  him.  The  guy  was  right,  but  Nick
hadn’t  been  about  to  tell  his  weepy  friend  the  truth.  Some
truths  aren’t  worth  it,  and  Ken  had  been  a  mess. Ken  had
been  a  beanpole  in  high  school,  not  that  he’d  filled  out  all
that much since then, he’d just added some muscle mass to
his tall, thin stature.

Ken had barged into Nick’s bedroom that day, slamming

the door shut behind him.

“Hey, take it easy. My mom and dad will freak if you

break the door because of one of your hissy fits.”

“I’m not having a hissy fit. Jimmy broke my heart.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “You’ve only been going with him

for two weeks, heartbreaking takes at least a month.”

“How would you know, oh closeted, unfulfilled one?”
“Shut up. I’ve been thinking about, well, you know.”
“Nicky, you can think all you want, but that won’t get

your rocks off by anyone but your own hand. A little less
thinking, a little more action wouldn’t hurt.”

“I thought you barged in here so I could comfort you.”

Nick grinned, thinking about adding his friend’s amusing
about-face to his list of stories to tell… someday.

“Of course I need comforting. Where’s your Game Boy? I

love watching Mario humping everything in sight.”

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Nick picked up the small handheld device and tossed it

at Ken. “He’s not humping, he’s jumping.”

“Humping, jumping. I’m clearly a more creative thinker

than you’ll ever be.”

“Then I just may need to keep you around to get my

writing going.”

“Writing. Can you really make any money doing that?”

Ken turned on the Game Boy and passively pressed the
buttons.

“Of course you can, if you’re good enough and can make

the right contacts.”

“Making contact is my specialty.” Ken winked as he

glanced up from the little screen in front of him.

“I’ll bet.” Nick bit his lip. “Ken, what’s it like?”
“Huh?”
“Kissing a guy. I mean I’ve kissed a few girls. They’re

okay but not much excitement.”

Ken chuckled. “Hmmm, wonder why that is? Duh!”
“Look, I know I have to figure out how to get started, but

what’s it like?”

Ken put down the toy without bothering to turn it off

and moved to sit next to Nick, who was sitting back on his
bed. “It’s not bad. I’ve only kissed one girl, but they’re kind of
soft and delicate. When a guy kisses it gets rougher, much
faster. And depending on how old he is, there may even be a
little stubble. It’s kind of hot.”

Nick began to envision a couple of the guys on the

school’s tennis team. He remembered when he’d learned he
made the cut, and all the new first stringers ended up in the

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shower room together. He’d been glad the water flowed too
cold for comfort.

“Nicky.” Ken leaned close to his ear, whispering his

name.

Remaining still, Nick felt his jeans beginning to tighten.
“It’s time you were kissed. What else are friends for?”

Ken gently cupped Nick’s chin, turning his head. As if in
slow motion, he brushed his lips to Nick’s. Nick shivered at
the connection but didn’t move away.

Ken threaded his fingers in Nick’s shaggy brown mop of

hair  and  pressed  their  lips  together.  Before  he  could  think,
Nick  wrapped  his  arms  around  his  best  friend,  gripping  his
shirt. When he felt the velvet of the tip of Ken’s tongue, Nick
opened  his  mouth,  a  moan  escaping  as  he  invited  Ken
inside.  The  warmth,  the  heat.  He  fell  back  on  the  bed,  Ken
lying above him and moving.

Oh God. The movement. He couldn’t stay still, joining

his friend’s rhythm. Scrabbling at the back of Ken’s shirt,
Nick tried to pull it upward, wanting to touch, feel more. Ken
quickly broke off the ongoing attack on Nick’s lips, whipped
off his shirt, and threw it off the bed, helping Nick do the
same.

When Ken crashed their lips and bodies together, Nick

couldn’t hold back any further. Arching his back, he shoved
his hand into the back of Ken’s pants, losing control, giving
his friend’s ass a squeeze. “Oh fuck, Ken! Take them off,”
Nick demanded as the rutting quickened.

“Sweetheart, are you boys okay? I thought I heard

someone yelling for help.” Nick’s mother opened the

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unlocked door. A lesson Nick would remember for the rest of
his life. “Nicholas! What are you doing?”

That night he came out to his parents. They were much

easier going than he thought they’d be, but his mother
summed it up perfectly. “Nick, dear, I don’t care whether you
like boys or girls, but I’d rather have no further visual
demonstrations.”

After that, Ken and he had decided they should stick to

friendship, knowing boyfriends wouldn’t last but friends
would.

Returning to the computer, dressed in his running

clothes, Nick saw a message across his profile. See you at
8:00. I know the place. Mark.

Shit! Now he really needed a good head-clearing run.

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Chapter 3

ICK

returned from his run exhausted and invigorated, all at

the same time, to find Ken sitting on the sofa reading the
latest issue of GQ.

“You’re the poster child for gay living.”
“Why, Nicky, you say the sweetest things. If that was

supposed to be an insult, it got lost in translation.”

“Touché! Sometimes I forget you give as good as you

get.”

“Most of my boyfriends would agree with that.”
Nick snorted.
“I see the computer’s turned off. Does that mean you’re

going to ignore my generous and heartfelt gift?”

Rolling his eyes, Nick booted up the computer. After

logging on he went to his newest bookmarked site and
opened his profile to the last page he’d visited. “Here, see for
yourself.”

Ken left his magazine behind and sat at the computer

where most of their collaborative efforts were written.
Glancing at the screen, a broad grin spread across his face.

“See, I didn’t dump on your little morning surprise. The

way I see it, you’re probably right. I don’t get out enough.
And who knows, at least the guy’s hot, if he didn’t send in a
fake picture.”

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“Stop being such a cynic. I know you’re just trying to

protect yourself in case he turns out to be a total loser, but
you’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Well, I’m starting with Mark at eight o’clock. Knowing

my luck, I’ll be ending with him by nine.”

“Do you want me to go to the same place in case he

turns out to be a troll, or worse?”

“What the hell is worse than a troll?”
“A troll with a lousy personality.” Ken stood up and

squeezed Nick’s shoulder. “Anyway, since I got you into this,
I could cancel my date tonight and keep an eye on you.”

Nick shook his head. “Even if it turns out to be a

disaster, I’m no worse off than I was when I woke up this
morning. I just keep thinking this could be the start of a new
play.”

“Oh really?” Ken’s eyes always lit up at the thought of

creating a new piece, especially when they were in the middle
of rehearsals and being asked for rewrites on a regular basis.

“Sure, it can be about the only guy who can’t find a

reasonable online hook-up no matter how hard he tries.”

“Nicky! That’s awful. Although it would make a great

comedic romance if it turns out the man of his dreams was
right under his nose the whole time he was looking for love.”

Ken gazed into Nick’s eyes, and for a brief moment, the

memory  of  two  horny  sixteen-year-olds  flashed  through
Nick’s  mind.  Then,  as  if  on  a  director’s  cue,  the  two  broke
down into full-fledged belly laughs.

“Some things should remain sweet….”
“… and hot…”

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“… memories of days gone by.” Ken gave Nick a quick

hug. “We have to get your ensemble together for tonight. Do
you have any idea what you want to wear?”

“Ken, I’ve been dressing myself for quite some time now.

I think I can handle it on my own.”

“You’ve been handling a lot by yourself for a long time;

that’s the problem.”

Nick poked Ken in the ribs. “You can be so gross.”
“Thank you. I’m working on completely beyond

acceptable,  but  gross  is  a  good  start.  Now  let’s  get  you
ready.”  Ken  gave  Nick  the  once-over,  turning  him  around.
“Not bad once you shower and clean up. I’d date you, hell, I’d
fuck  you  if  we  didn’t  want  to  remain  friends,  and  I  didn’t
have to rely on you for fifty percent of my livelihood.”

“Fifty percent?” Nick tilted his head.
“Hey, don’t sell my contributions short. You probably

wouldn’t have half the humor without me.”

“You are the personification of dry wit.”
“You’ve got that right, and don’t you forget it!” Ken

walked ahead of Nick toward the bedrooms, calling over his
shoulder, “Come on, it’s time to make you irresistible.”

ICK

walked into The Den of Caffeine promptly at eight.

Scanning the room and not seeing anyone who remotely
resembled Mark’s online photo, he spotted an unoccupied
table in the far corner, surrounded by a small love-seat and
an armchair.

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Smoothing the front of his dark brown, long-sleeved,

fitted T-shirt he took a seat, grabbing a copy of the New
Yorker from a magazine rack on the way.

The most recent opening of one of his and Ken’s plays

had received a great review in the well-respected magazine.
Ever since then he’d been drawn to it whenever he had a
spare minute or two to read.

Less than five minutes passed. Just as Nick started

thinking  he  should  never  have  come,  he  spotted  Mark
walking  through  the  entrance.  He  had  definitely  sent  in  a
current  shot.  It  didn’t  do  him  justice.  He  had  everything
promised,  but  in  person  it  came  together  as  an  incredible
package. Nick suppressed a laugh as his next thought was, I
wonder what his package is like?

Making eye contact, Mark approached the table. Nick

stood up and shook his date’s hand. “Hi, I’m Nick.”

“I know. You look just like your photo. I’m Mark.”
“Your photo was pretty good, too, but the real thing is

much better.” Nick licked his lips, forgetting for a moment he
was in a coffee bar, not a backroom.

Mark had the courtesy and courage to laugh. “Glad you

like the merchandise.”

Nick was glad the lights were slightly dimmed. He hoped

it masked the blush he could feel spreading across his
cheeks. “What would you like to drink? My treat.”

“Thanks, I’ll have a non-fat latte.”
Nick got two of the same and returned to the table to

find Mark settled in the armchair looking at the magazine.
He was surprised to feel a pang of disappointment. The love-

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seat had room for two. “Here’s your coffee. That’s what I
always get too.”

“We must be a match made in gay heaven.” Mark

winked.

Smiling, Nick took the spot on the small sofa, at the end

closest to his date. “That’s my favorite monthly these days.”

“I’m not surprised after the great write-up they gave

your newest play.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “You know.”
“My profile is pretty clear about my love of theater. I

recognized your name the minute I spotted you at The Male
Room.”

“I’m flattered. Not too many people ever remember the

playwright.”

“Or in your case, playwrights.”
“Yeah, Ken’s a terrific partner.”
“But, since you’re here, I guess he’s just a business

partner. There are all kinds of rumors in the theater world
that you two are secretly in love.”

Nick sat back, impressed with Mark’s openness and

honesty. “We do love each other, have since we were kids.
We also share a mutual love of writing and do it pretty well
together.”

“I’d say from the two plays I’ve seen, you write better

than pretty well.”

Nick nodded. He couldn’t deny he and Ken were a great

creative team. “But that’s where it ends. It might have gone
further when we were kids, but we decided being best friends
suited us much better.”

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Taking a sip of his own coffee, Nick watched as Mark’s

tongue licked at the foam brimming over the edge of his cup.
He noticed a little dot of the milky substance resting on his
upper lip. Unable to resist the adorable look and the
beautiful, naturally full lips, he gently brushed his hand over
Mark’s cheek and thumbed off the excess milk.

Mark’s tongue immediately followed. “Thanks for

helping remove my milk moustache.”

“My pleasure.” Nick noticed Mark look down, and the

subsequent blush of red rising in his date’s smooth cheeks.

The two sat quietly drinking their lattes.
“My friend Ken’s the one who signed me up at The Male

Room. He doesn’t think I go out enough, at least not on real
dates.”

Mark blinked, and Nick was mesmerized by his

beautiful, long lashes. “Are you disappointed?”

Nick smiled. “Not in the least. Although, I can’t believe

someone as good-looking and seemingly nice as you couldn’t
get a boyfriend on his own.”

“The last guy I hooked up with on my own was arrested

for embezzlement. Since then I decided to try somewhere
that I knew had already done background checks on anyone
I might be interested in meeting.”

Nick snickered. “I see your point. Ken thought my

experience would bring in some good writing material, even if
I didn’t meet someone I liked. I’m beginning to think he’s
right.”

Mark’s broad smile lit up the room. “It might be fun to

know I played a small part in your next production.”

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Their eyes met, and Nick found himself reaching out to

rest his hand on Mark’s knee.

He was surprised when the man stood up.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
Mark cut him off with a chaste kiss on the lips as he

moved onto the empty half of the love-seat. “No apology
necessary.”

“You may have accepted my invitation tonight because

you’re a fan of my work, but I’m beginning to be a fan of
yours.”

“I wouldn’t use that line in your next play. It’s kind of

cheesy.” Mark took Nick’s hand in his and squeezed. “It
works much better in person.”

Nick looked around the coffee bar, filled with couples,

both gay and straight. “I’d really like to kiss you.”

Mark placed his cup on the table and wrapped his warm

hand around the nape of Nick’s neck, drawing him close
until their lips met. What started as a tender moment,
heated up very quickly.

The two wrapped their arms around each other as their

kiss grew hungrier. Nick laced his fingers through the soft
sandy locks, forcing Mark to remain close as their tongues
dueled in a heated frenzy.

A few moments passed and the two broke apart,

panting. Mark rested his forehead against Nick’s. “Wow,
Nick.”

“Wow’s a great descriptive.”
“I didn’t plan on this, especially not in a place like this.”
“Let’s go somewhere else.”

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Mark sat up straighter. “I don’t want this to be just a

hook-up.”

Realizing how he must have sounded, Nick backpedaled.

“Neither do I, but I want time with you so we can get to know
each other, without an audience.”

Sitting still, Mark didn’t respond.
“Not physically, although I don’t think that would be a

bad thing. I really want to know who you are.”

Mark bit his lip. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. My

apartment is about ten minutes from here. Nothing says who
I am better.”

“You know if we go there, I may not be able to keep

from—”

“I know. Let’s go.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Chapter 4

ALKING

to Mark’s apartment, Nick held his date’s hand.

He’d forgotten how good it could feel. It had been a long, long
time since he had held another man’s hand.

He noted how well their hands fit together and the warm

feeling  he  felt  despite  the  evening  chill.  He  kept  wondering
when  something  unexpected  would  occur,  revealing  Mark’s
major flaws, things Nick would despise.

Entering the apartment, Mark ushered Nick down a

narrow entry hall to the small, neatly furnished,
living/dining room area.

“Have a seat, and I’ll get us something to drink. Would

you like wine or something stronger?”

“Wine sounds good. I’d prefer a red if you have it.”
Mark nodded. “A few of my friends don’t drink at all, so

I’ve gotten into the habit of asking first.”

“Are they religious? I don’t know too many people who

don’t drink any alcohol, unless they’re into religion, in AA,
or… shit.” Nick brushed his hand over his face wishing he’d
thought before he opened his mouth. “I write better than I
speak.”

Offering an understanding half-smile, Mark responded,

“I think the end to your sentence was… or they’re on the
cocktail and advised to limit alcohol intake. Unfortunately,
yes, there are still HIV/AIDS sufferers out there.”

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Nick bit his lip, embarrassed by his blunder and

expecting Mark to kick him to the curb at any second.

“Don’t worry about it. I guess it’s a good sign that people

don’t immediately jump there when talking about gay men
anymore.”

“But it’s still something that can’t be ignored.”
Mark nodded, heading for the bar. “I’ll get the wine.

Relax, I’m not offended.”

Nick snorted. “Are you some kind of a mind reader?”
“No, but I’ve been told I read people pretty well.”
“Then how did you end up at an online dating service?”
“I want to play it safe, in more ways than one. A condom

is great protection, but only if you don’t meet someone who
might beat the crap out of you, rob you, or is just in some
bar so his wife or kids don’t catch him batting for the other
team.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”
“Some. Not as bad as most.” Mark opened the lower

cabinet of a sleek glass bar set in the corner of the room. He
pulled out a bottle of red wine and opened it, pouring two
glasses.

“I’m thirty-three,” Nick blurted out.
“I know.” Mark smirked as he brought Nick his glass

and sat down on the sofa with him.

“How? My profile didn’t say—”
Mark cut him off. “It didn’t have to. Remember, I’m a

theater junkie. I Googled you. Your theater bio gives a date of
birth.”

“So you’re clearly not mathematically challenged.”

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Mark had the decency to laugh at Nick’s lame joke. “It’s

a good thing you’re a writer and don’t have to deliver the
lines you pen.”

“I’m not usually this awkward in social situations. Hell,

I meet producers and have to sell them my product
regularly.”

“It’s okay.”
“By the way, what do you do to earn the money to afford

to live alone?”

“I write.”
“No kidding.” Nick was beginning to wonder if he was

meeting someone whose goal was to take Ken’s place.

“I write for The Advocate. Mostly human interest stories,

and an occasional theater review or interview with a person
of interest in the LGBT community.”

“Is that what this date is about?”
“It crossed my mind that if the date didn’t work out, I

might still get an article out of it, but I’m guessing the article
will have to be done by someone else.” Mark sipped his wine.

Nick took a huge gulp of his wine and put the glass

down  on  the  coffee  table.  Moving  closer  to  Mark  who  had
mimicked  his  actions,  Nick  tenderly  wrapped  his  hand
around  Mark’s  neck,  drawing  him  in.  They  kissed.
Tentatively  at  first,  lips  barely  touching,  until  Nick
whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

Mark’s face reddened. “You too.”
It didn’t matter who started it, but their hesitant

moment became urgent in a flash. Mouths hungry with

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desire, swollen lips assaulting each other, wanting more. The
warmth and heat of tongues, dueling for dominance.

Nick grappled with Mark’s shirt, lifting it halfway up his

back. Needing to touch, make contact, and no longer willing
to stop.

Breaking away, Mark finished the job Nick had started

and then pulled Nick’s own shirt over his head, both
garments flung off to the side, forgotten.

Hoping he wasn’t making the wrong decision, Nick

pressed Mark back on the sofa. Hovering over the hot blond,
he  gazed  at  the  body  beneath  him.  Nick  stared  at  Mark’s
chest, heaving between kisses. The online photo hadn’t been
touched  up  or  manipulated.  Mark  had  the  amazing,
promised six-pack.

Nick dove in again, devouring Mark’s lips, nipping and

hungry. Trying to remember this was not some random trick,
he lay on top of his date and began to rut, pants left
untouched, despite his growing need.

The two began to move in unison. Nick sucked on

Mark’s  erect  nipple,  and  when  he  dared  to  press  his  teeth
around  the  sensitive  nub,  Mark  arched  his  back  and
grabbed  at  Nick,  fingers  scratching  as  he  clung  tightly.  “Oh
fuck!”

Watching Mark go over the edge, Nick pressed against

him one last time and stilled as his own climax took hold. To
stop the moans trying to escape his own lips, Nick crashed
his mouth onto Mark’s, hoping the man beneath him would
feel his longing.

Nick peppered tender kisses on Mark’s cheeks and neck.

Both spent, they lay together on the sofa, panting in unison.

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Mark closed his eyes and turned away. “I’m not sure what I
expected, but it wasn’t that.”

Nick huffed. “I haven’t come in my pants since I was in

high school.”

Mark hid his face in his hands in an attempt to hide the

red flush covering his fair complexion.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Nick cupped Mark’s chin,

gently encouraging him to look back. “You were hot. You are
hot.”

“I just—I wanted this to be about really meeting

someone, not only sex.”

“Believe me, if it was just about sex for me, you’d be

naked by now.”

Mark laughed. “Are you sure?”
“Without question. You read my bio and you’re

obviously a writer who’s done his research. If I remember
correctly, my publicist wrote that I like to go out and enjoy
the night life the city has to offer. We both know that’s code
for the gay playwright likes to trick.”

“I’d imagine tricking is not a clothing optional activity.”
“I like the way you worded that, but you’re right—

clothing is definitely not a part of the deal.”

Mark tilted his head and smiled.
Nick reluctantly sat up, releasing the man beneath him.

“Listen, unless you want me to leave, I’d like to stay and get
to know you better. Believe me, I haven’t said that to anyone
in years.”

“I’d like you to stay. I’ll show you the way to the guest

bathroom so you can clean up.”

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Grabbing his shirt, Nick followed Mark. After cleaning

himself with the towel Mark gave him, he put his shirt back
on and then made his way back to the living room to await
Mark’s  return.  He  amused  himself  by  looking  at  the  signed
theater  posters  and  Playbills  that  lined  the  apartment’s
walls.  He  stopped  short  when  he  saw  a  series  of  simply-
framed awards tucked away in a corner.

Mark was clearly not a bragger. If Nick hadn’t been

carefully  observing,  hoping  to  learn  more  about  his  new…
lover,  he  would  have  missed  the  certificates.  Mark  had  won
three  citations  for  hard  news  reporting  from  the  Associated
Press.  Nick’s  humble  date  had  been  the  first  man  to  report
on a series of attacks in the Village, and had put himself in
harm’s way to uncover the thugs targeting men and women
whose only crime was walking down the street hand-in-hand
with same-sex escorts.

Maybe Ken had done him a favor after all. There was

definitely something to this online dating.

Even better, there was definitely something to Mark. For

the first time in years, Nick wanted to stay, and not just for
another drink. Fortunately, Mark seemed to feel the same.

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Chapter 5

ARK

returned to the living room in a fresh pair of dark blue

jeans. To Nick’s surprise and pleasure, he hadn’t bothered to
put on another shirt.

“I like your poster collection.”
“Thanks.” Mark picked up his and Nick’s glasses of wine

from earlier, handed Nick’s to him, and then took a sip from
his own glass. “I like getting autographs and meeting the
people who create the illusions. It’s too bad the playwrights
and directors don’t get the chance to meet the audiences
enjoying their work.”

Smiling, Nick finished his wine and then pecked Mark

on  the  cheek.  “I  appreciate  the  nod,  but  I  wouldn’t  know
what  to  say  to  a  fan  who  might  actually  criticize  something
in the performance. It’s bad enough when we’re interviewed
one-on-one  or  have  to  endure  talk-backs  after  select
performances.  Besides,  I’ve  always  been  there  on  opening
night.  I  get  to  see  the  audience  reaction  while  remaining
fairly anonymous.”

“I’ll make sure to keep any questions I have about your

plays to myself, for now. I wouldn’t want to scare you away.”

“In this case it would take a lot more than a query about

my work to make me run.” Nick wrapped his arm around
Mark’s waist as the blond finished his drink, placed the glass
down and leaned into the touch.

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“It’s nice having you here. I haven’t invited a date into

my home for years.”

Nick remembered the last night he and his former

boyfriend had spent together, before the closet case left him
to marry. It was the night before the wedding. Alan’s fiancée
had been off with her girlfriends, and he’d shown up at
Nick’s door after his bachelor party. The memory of being left
behind in the bed they’d shared still stung, no matter how
many nights had passed since their final good-bye.

“I’m probably making some sort of mistake, but I’d still

like you to stay. I hope you don’t think I’m a jerk; I still don’t
want to….” Mark turned away, staring toward nothing in
particular.

“Fuck?” Nick moved so he and Mark were looking into

each other’s eyes. He wanted him to see his sincerity. This
was a time for honesty, not glib remarks. “It’s alright. I
haven’t spent a complete night holding anyone in years, with
or without sex.”

“I know the feeling. I’ve been tempted a few times, but

after my last break-up I couldn’t seem to trust anyone.”

Nick huffed. “Sounds familiar. I haven’t slept with

anyone since his two and half kids came along.”

Mark raised an eyebrow.
“Never mind. I’ll explain another time.” Ghosting his

fingers over Mark’s cheek and continuing gently over his
shoulder, Nick felt him shiver under his touch. “Are you
cold?”

Shaking his head, Mark took a step closer, resting his

head against Nick’s shoulder and rubbing his hands up and
down the playwright’s back.

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Feeling himself shudder at the contact, Nick clung to

Mark. “I seem to feel the same chill in the air.” He tenderly
kissed the pale neck, lips brushing over chin and cheek and
nipping at Mark’s earlobe.

Inhaling audibly, Mark stepped back and took Nick’s

hand, guiding him to the bedroom. The room was decorated
in an art deco motif with black and white as the main color
scheme. Little touches of beadwork on lamps and shades
added to the ambiance.

The two men stood at the foot of the bed, the only light

was from street lights filtering in through the windows lining
one side of the room. He couldn’t have come up with a better
setting had he written it himself. Nick began to unbutton
Mark’s jeans.

“I don’t.” Mark stilled Nick’s hands.
“I know. I just want us to be comfortable.”
Biting his lip, Mark dropped his arms to his sides,

allowing Nick to continue unfastening his pants. It wasn’t
long before he was gripping Nick’s shoulders. Mark’s head
fell back as Nick slowly lowered the jeans, running his hands
over the black briefs that remained in place.

Setting his pants aside, Mark watched, licking his lips,

as Nick removed his own pants and briefs in unison. “What
are you doing?”

“My briefs are sticky from before. I promise to behave,

although it’ll be hard.”

Mark grinned. “Is that meant to be a play on words?”
Nick snorted. “Actually, I think it’s an undeniable fact.”
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

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“Better than okay.” Nick laced their fingers together as

they climbed into the queen-sized bed together.

“I suddenly do feel cold.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.” Nick reclined against

the pillows, pulling the blanket over them and wrapping his
arms around Mark. It all seemed so natural. Nick began to
comb his fingers through the now messy mop of sandy hair.

The two clung together. Mark’s head fit perfectly over

Nick’s heart. “It’s beating so fast.”

“I know. It’s the first time it’s been awake for years.”
“Mine too.”
“Mark.”
“Yes?”
“I think I just might be falling in like with you.”
Mark huffed and kissed Nick’s chest. “I’m glad because

I’m already there.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Chapter 6

ICK

awoke with the sunlight shining in on him. At first it

took a moment to remember exactly where he was. He’d
never spent a complete night at a trick’s place, nor did he
invite them to his apartment.

Looking down, he spotted the short mop of sandy hair.

Their bodies tangled together felt right.

Kissing the top of Mark’s head, Nick leaned back against

the pillows and closed his eyes, feeling a sense of peace he
hadn’t known for a very long time.

Before he was able to fall back to sleep, his eyes shot

open when a warm hand wrapped around his morning wood.
“Oh God,” he breathed.

Mark’s hand was performing magic, ministering to his

cock both gently and firmly, alternating the touch and
driving Nick crazy. Nick thrust once, twice, and then shot
into the waiting hand. “Ahhh, Mark.”

Mark smirked as he licked his fingertips. “I’m glad it

was my name you called out, otherwise this could have been
very awkward.”

Chuckling as he panted, Nick’s breathing slowly

returned to normal. He reached down to discover Mark had
removed his briefs sometime during the night. Moistening
his hand with his own come, Nick ran his fingers over Mark’s
long cock.

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“Nick, I won’t last.”
“That’s okay, neither did I.” Rolling Mark onto his back,

Nick continued stroking the stiff member while he alternately
nipped, licked, and kissed Mark’s neck.

Nick loved listening to the sounds Mark was making.

Writhing beneath him, Mark dug his nails into Nick’s
shoulders, pulling him closer, crashing their lips together as
he shuddered through his orgasm.

Enveloping Mark in his arms, Nick felt Mark return the

embrace. The two held one another silently, kissing and
touching, unwilling to break apart.

Spotting the clock on the nightstand, Nick loosened his

grip. “Mark, I have to leave. Can I use your shower?”

Nodding, Mark let go, sitting with his arms around his

knees and tilted his head toward the master bathroom.
“Towels are in the cabinet under the sink.”

When Nick returned to the bedroom, refreshed from the

morning’s activities and a hot shower, Mark stood,
underwear now back in place, and approached. “Will we see
each other again?” Mark rolled his lips inward, his brow
furrowed.

Nick snorted. “We’d better.” He took Mark in his arms. “I

haven’t felt this close to anyone, especially without fucking
him, for as long as I can remember.”

“Me neither.” Mark’s vulnerability and concern were

touching.

Nick felt a pang in his heart he’d never experienced

before. “I was wrong yesterday about falling in like with you.”

Mark bit his lip as he looked at Nick.

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“It’s much more than that.”
“Good. I feel the same way.”
Nick smiled. “You’d better give me your phone number,

otherwise I can’t do the right thing and call you for another
date as soon as I reach the lobby of this building.”

Mark threw back his head and laughed. It was the most

joyful sound Nick could imagine to start his day.

ICK

cautiously walked into his apartment, trying to avoid

waking  Ken  since  they  typically  made  it  a  habit  of  sleeping
late  on  the  weekends.  Carefully  opening  the  door  so  it
wouldn’t  creak,  he  hung  his  jacket  in  the  front  hall  closet
and tiptoed toward his bedroom to change his clothes.

As he approached Ken’s bedroom, he took off his shoes.
“No need for that, Nicky. I’ve been worried sick about

you. You never called even though you knew I’d be home
waiting.”

Damn! Nick remembered silencing his phone when he

decided to spend the night at Mark’s, but he’d never checked
to see if anyone had called or even bothered to text Ken with
his plans.

“You’d better get your ass in here right now!” The edge

in Ken’s voice sent a chill up Nick’s spine.

“Hi, honey. I’m home.” He walked in, plastering a smile

on his face with the probably vain hope of diffusing whatever
hell he was about to receive.

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“Don’t get all cute with me. Besides, you don’t do cute

nearly as well as I do.” Ken moved to one side of his bed and
patted the space next to him.

Nick obediently sat next to his friend, saying nothing.
“Well?”
Looking downward, Nick felt guilty. He never stayed out

all night, making it a policy to avoid waking up with a trick.
It sent a clear message—no involvement, only sex. “Sorry I
worried you. I should have called.”

“You’re damn right you should’ve phoned. But that’s the

least of it.” Ken put his arm around Nick’s shoulders and
squeezed. “Tell me everything. Was he good?”

Nick glared at Ken.
“What? If you stayed out all night there must have been

something to keep your attention.”

“Yeah, there was. Mark.”
“Mark, as in the person, not the hot bod?”
“He’s a lot more than a hot, warm body. Mark’s… damn,

I don’t know how to word it.”

“Nicky, you can’t find the words. This guy must be

something special. You always found plenty of words to
describe your last boyfriend, and that was before he allowed
us to see just how big a jerk he was, and probably still is.”

“Shut up.” Nick whispered, covering his face. “It’s just

that this is the kind of thing I want to stay away from.”

Ken looked at Nick, his face softening. He began to

brush his hand over Nick’s hair, like a mother comforting
her son after he’d skinned his knee. “You really care about

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this guy. Holy shit! You only met yesterday. How did this
happen?”

Shrugging, Nick leaned on his friend’s shoulder. “I left

him less than an hour ago, and all I want to do is call, hear
his voice, go back to his place.”

“You spent the night at his place, didn’t you? How was

it?”

“Perfect.”
“You’re scaring me. You don’t get involved. That’s my

job.” Ken gave Nick’s shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s move onto a
better subject. Was he a good fuck?”

Nick pulled away abruptly, narrowing his eyes as he

stared at Ken. “We didn’t fuck.”

“You didn’t fuck? Then what were you doing all night.”
“We did a few things, but mostly we kissed, held each

other, slept together.”

“Oh my God! Next you’ll be telling me that even if he did

take it up the ass it would have been making love, not
fucking.”

Nick looked away and stood up. He was tempted to say

nothing, but Ken knew him too well to deny anything. “It
would have been.”

Ken threw off his blanket and jumped out of bed. He ran

to Nick and held him tight, giving him a chaste kiss on the
cheek. “I’d say I told you so, but I’m so happy for you I can’t
bring myself to do it. This is better than the scenario I was
dreaming up for our next play. Much better.”

Nick clung to his friend. “How could I let this happen?

It’ll only end up as a ridiculous disaster, and you’ll be

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

scraping me off the floor again. I’ve got to end it before it
starts.”

Shaking his head, Nick felt confused by all the feelings

Mark  had  stirred.  He’d  left  the  apartment  feeling  high,  but
the  minute  Mark  was  out  of  sight,  Nick  started  to  second-
guess  the  emotions  he  was  experiencing.  From  his
experience, and those of his friends, Nick had found few gay
relationships  lasting  or  successful.  Only  a  couple  of  his
friends had partners who could be considered long-term and
were still happy.

Entering his own room, Nick closed the door, locking it

behind him. Taking out his cell phone and the paper he had
stuffed into his pocket alongside it, he pressed the first six
numbers, then disconnected. Nick repeated the same action
three times before crumpling the paper and tossing it in the
trash.

Grabbing his laptop, he sat on his bed and started to

type.

The only way to get through this realistically was to

write. His fingers flew across the keys like lightning as the
title came to him immediately, Too Good to Be True.

Ghosting his fingers over his lips, he remembered

Mark’s full lips, his tender caresses, and the ease they had
with each other. Nick continued to type, knowing if he
allowed this to develop any further he’d probably screw it up.
He’d come to terms with the fact he was destined to be single
and shoved any thoughts to the contrary far out of his mind.

Nick had already screwed up one relationship. He didn’t

want to create a scorecard. The memory of loving Alan still

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Chapter 7

HILE

Nick showered, Ken snuck into his friend’s room. He

knew he was probably overstepping the bounds of
friendship, but he peeked at the open document on the
computer screen anyway. “Damn! You’ve really got it bad.”

Looking around, he spotted a tiny piece of scrap paper

tossed onto the floor, adjacent to the trash can. Picking it up
he saw a name and phone number.

“Nicky, honey, you’ll thank me for this someday. I won’t

let that asshole from over five years ago screw up your entire
life.”

Leaving the room, Ken ducked into his own bedroom

and took out his phone.

“Hello, who is this?”
“This is Ken, Nick’s roommate.”
He heard a deep breath. “Is he okay? Please tell me he

wasn’t in some kind of accident after he left this morning. He
said he’d call right away, but I haven’t heard a word.”

“Nick’s physically fine, but emotionally he’s a wreck.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He hasn’t allowed himself to fall in love in more than

half a decade, and in one night you changed everything.”

“Huh?”
“I hope you’re more eloquent in person, or this will never

work out.” Ken sighed. “He doesn’t know I’m calling you. If

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

you  want  any  kind  of  future  with  Nick,  and  feel  even  a
fraction  of  what  he  obviously  feels  for  you,  you  should
probably  get  your  pretty  little  butt  over  here  as  soon  as
possible.”

“I see.”
“Mark, being a man of few words can be an attractive

quality, but I need to know, are you coming?” Ken bit his lip,
hoping Nick wasn’t experiencing unrequited love.

“He gave me the address this morning. I’ll be there in

less than half an hour.”

Ken smiled broadly. “Good answer, my friend. I most

definitely look forward to meeting you.”

ICK

set his laptop aside. His thoughts were all over the

place, preventing him from being able to concentrate enough
to  convert  his  discomfiting,  absurd  experience  with  Mark
into  coherent  words  on  a  page.  How  could  he  feel  so  much
for  Mark  in  such  a  short  time?  He  quickly  dressed  in  his
jogging T-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers and made his way
to the door of the apartment.

“Nick, where are you going?” Ken yelled from the

bathroom. Nick shook his head, recognizing the garbled
voice as a sure sign his friend was trying to talk and brush
his teeth at the same time.

“Don’t abandon your morning beauty regimen on my

account. I’ll be back soon.” Nick rubbed his temples. “I’m
going out for a run; maybe it’ll help clear my head.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

All he heard as he closed the door behind him was a

resounding, “Shit!”

Nick knew his friend wanted to help him through his

romantic  stupidity,  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  He’d
jumped in too fast and let his emotions run away with him.
Nick took off on the streets of New York City hoping fresh air
and  exercise  would  help  him  think  calmly  and  rationally
about  the  whole  Mark  situation.  He  wasn’t  sure  where  he
was  going,  but  no  sooner  had  he  reached  the  nearest
crosswalk  to  his  building,  than  his  cell  phone  started  to
vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he wondered wishfully if
it might be Mark. That would change everything, but it was
Ken.

He turned off the power and continued to run. Normally

he’d  make  his  way  through  the  Village,  enjoying  some
window-shopping  as  he  passed  by  the  stores  before  they
opened for the day. Nick loved the eclectic nature of the area,
from  chic  and  elegant  to  flamboyant  and  trashy.  There  was
something for everyone.

For some reason, Nick decided to make his way uptown,

running on Sixth Avenue. He wasn’t sure how far he’d gone
until he reached Fortieth Street and turned, heading directly
to  Bryant  Park.  Laughing,  he  scanned  the  virtually  empty
patch  of  grass,  trees,  and  benches,  remembering  Ken’s  glee
when  he’d  discovered  part  of  the  benefits  of  being  a
successful  playwright  included  tickets  to  the  biggest  East
Coast  fashion  event  of  the  season.  “I  guess  it’s  true:  all  us
fags are drawn to haute couture, although my timing is way
off  for  Fashion  Week.  Damn!  My  timing’s  way  off  for
everything today.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Deciding to take a short break, Nick stretched to cool

down and took a seat on a bench close to the park entrance.
He leaned back and closed his eyes in the hope of
experiencing complete relaxation, but all he could imagine
were those lips—Mark’s lips—pressing against his own.

He was beautiful. Nick thought of how Mark’s eyes lit up

when  Nick  touched  him.  He’d  never  had  a  trick  respond  to
him in such an adoring way. Adoring, where had that come
from? Feeling his headache returning, Nick tried to wipe out
the  memory  of  the  previous  night.  He  had  three  scenes  to
take a second look at for the play in rehearsals, and one he
and  Ken  had  to  completely  rewrite.  Yet,  none  of  that
mattered  when  Mark’s  eyes,  face,  and  caresses  all  flooded
Nick’s mind.

Why was he running? Was he trying to escape a

possible rejection or… fuck! Nick’s stomach churned. Love.
He hadn’t been in love in years, and when he had, it was
with someone who’d kept him buried so deep in the closet he
never saw the light of day.

Is this what it feels like to love someone and to have

them love you back openly and honestly? Bending in half,
Nick placed his head between his knees, thinking he might
throw up on the spot if he didn’t.

As he moved, the cell phone slipped out of his sweats

and landed on the ground. Picking it up, Nick decided to
turn it back on to let Ken know he hadn’t run away from
home, at least not permanently.

The screen lit up and Nick noticed two messages.

Assuming they were both from his overly dramatic roommate

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he listened to them, expecting a tongue lashing equivalent to
one from a nagging housewife.

Ken’s voice, soft and comforting, filled the first voice

mail.  “Honey,  I’m  worried  about  you.  Please  come  home  so
we  can  talk.  You  deserve  this.  Not  everyone  is  an  asshole
where  relationships  are  concerned.  I  may  not  have  had  the
long-term  commitment  we’re  both  looking  for  yet,  but  I’m
convinced  this  is  a  good  thing.  Don’t  deny  yourself  this,
especially now that it’s there if you want it. Come home.”

Nick stared at the phone. “Jesus, Ken, I wish I felt some

crumb of that kind of love for you. You know just the right
thing to say.”

Pressing the button to listen to the second voice mail,

Nick sat upright on the bench when he heard Mark’s voice.
“Nick,  I  know  you  might  be  spooked  by  our  immediate
connection.  I  get  the  feeling  you’re  an  amateur  where
emotional involvement is concerned, unless it’s generated for
one of the characters in your plays.”

There was a pause, then he heard Mark take a deep

breath. “Your friend, Ken, called me. I came to your place to
see  you,  talk  to  you.  I  don’t  want  this  to  be  a  one-time
special  memory,  and  I’m  pretty  sure  you  don’t  want  that
either. I’ll wait here for a while. Your roommate thinks we’re
perfect  for  each  other;  he’s  pretty  convincing.  We’re  having
coffee. I hope you’ll come back soon.”

Nick felt a drop or two of moisture escape from his eyes.

He quickly wiped the tears away. “Where the hell did those
come from?”

Mark. He sounded sincere; he was sincere. Tucking his

phone back into his pocket, Nick, no longer nauseous, stood

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from the bench and ran to the street. He knew there was
only a certain amount of time Ken would be able to keep
Mark at the apartment.

As soon as he made his way to the curb, Nick grabbed a

cab to head downtown. Running would take too long, and he
didn’t have the patience to wait for the subway.

If Mark was still at the apartment when he arrived,

maybe this relationship thing really had some promise.

Pulling up in front of his building, Nick discovered he’d

left his wallet behind when he’d dashed out earlier to escape
his feelings.

Touching the first speed dial on his phone, he fidgeted

in his seat, waiting for an answer.

“Nicky, where the fuck are you?” Ken’s near-frantic voice

bellowed through the phone.

“Look, I’m sorry to worry you. We’ll talk later. I’m

downstairs in a cab.”

“Well, get out of the cab, and get your hot ass up here.”
“I would, but I left my money in my room. Can you come

down here with my wallet, now?”

“Sure, honey. Right away.”
“Uhm, Ken?” Nick bit his lip.
“Yes?”
“Is he still there?”
“Let’s just say our new play is getting more exciting by

the minute.”

Nick closed his eyes and sat back in the cab. “My friend

is bringing me my cash. He’ll be down in a minute.”

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Before he realized what was happening, Mark was

standing at the driver’s door handing the cabbie a bill large
enough to cover the fare and a generous tip. He opened the
rear door of the taxi and offered his hand.

“I have a feeling you’re going to be a little more labor

intensive than I first thought.”

Nick rolled his lips inward as the car drove away,

leaving the two on the curb.

“But despite your obvious tendency toward the

dramatic,  something  I  would  have  never  guessed  from  the
comic  nature  of  your  plays  or  your  online  profile,  I  think  it
just  might  be  worth  the  effort.”  Mark  placed  his  hands  on
both sides of Nick’s face and kissed him like he’d never been
kissed before.

“Now get upstairs and shower so Ken can relax. You had

him in a borderline frenzy.”

Nick looked down at his sneakers. “And you?”
“I’m here, and I stayed to wait for you.”
Mark clutched Nick’s hand as they walked into the

building.

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Chapter 8

following week Nick and Mark ate dinner together every

night, and on two occasions Mark brought his laptop to Nick
and  Ken’s  apartment  and  worked  alongside  the  two
playwrights  on  his  own  news  stories.  He  appeared  very
involved  in  a  hard  news  series  he  was  preparing,  but
unwilling to discuss.

By the end of the week, Ken was automatically

preparing enough food for three, and Mark insisted on
bringing a vegetable side dish to contribute to the meal.

“Mmm, that smells great. Just tell me how long it takes

to heat up, and I’ll make sure to pop it in the oven before
dinner.”

Mark approached Ken, setting the vegetable medley on

the kitchen counter. “It needs to be put in about twenty
minutes before we’re ready to eat.”

Nick smiled warmly as he listened to the easy

conversation between his new lover and his best friend. His
thoughts wandered as he watched the two interact. Ken had
been dating the same man for nearly two months, but Nick
hadn’t allowed himself to get to know him yet. He had been
cool and aloof, assuming this would be another in a long line
of revolving door romances for his oldest friend. Yet, in less
than a week Ken had welcomed Mark into their home
without a second thought.

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As he walked into the small kitchen area to give Mark a

proper greeting, Nick paused, listening to Mark and Ken’s
further conversation.

“I think he’s really falling for you.”
“It’s just a shame he’s not willing to admit it. We’ve been

together every day this week, and just when I expect him to
throw caution to the wind and open up, he pulls away and
distances himself emotionally. There’s some imaginary
boundary line Nick’s unwilling to cross.”

“Has he told you about Alan?”
“Who?”
“That would explain a lot.” Nick could picture Ken

rolling his eyes.

Mark sat on a stool in the small kitchen. “Tell me. I’ve

asked him to share more about himself, things neither of our
profiles revealed.”

“Oh really, and where does that usually lead?”
Mark snorted. “It usually leads to an amazing kiss…

and then some.”

Nodding, Ken continued preparing the chicken for stove-

top grilling. “I assume, since I haven’t heard anything from
him, and then some isn’t the big one.”

Laughing out loud, Mark continued. “My choice, not his.

I’m glad he’s willing to wait. I’ve never enjoyed tricking, and I
definitely want it to be special when we—” Mark stopped
speaking and looked at Ken.

“The red in your cheeks looks good on you.” Ken

snickered. “Just so you know, a week for my Nicky is
practically a lifetime commitment these days. Whenever you

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decide to do the deed, I’m certain it’ll be a different
experience than his usual.”

“What’s your interpretation of his usual?”
“Meet a trick, and within an hour and a half he’s fucked

and forgotten.” Ken snorted.

Nick wanted to barge in and shut his friend up, but

froze in place when Ken hugged Mark.

“Honey, Nick loves you. The last time he looked at

anyone the way he looks at you, the guy allowed his parents
to take charge of his life. They married him off to a woman,
and now they’re awaiting the arrival of baby number three.”

“Two and a half kids ago,” Mark mumbled. Nick was

surprised Mark connected his remark from their first night
together.

“What was that, sweetie?”
“That must have been tough for Nick.” Mark ran his

hand through his hair, a few wisps falling back onto his
forehead.

“He was devastated. Alan promised him he’d get out of

the  marriage  and  even  had  the  nerve  to  go  to  him  after  his
bachelor  party.  They  spent  the  night  together,  with  Alan
spewing  all  kinds  of  bullshit  promises.”  Ken  sighed.  “In  the
morning, Alan reneged on all of his declarations and married
the  woman  of  his  nightmares,  while  Nick  sat  home  and
wrote.”

“Wait a minute! The first play you two had staged Off

Broadway was about a guy testing romance on both sides of
the coin but ending up with his loyal and loving girlfriend.”
Mark stared at Ken.

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Nick bit his lip and walked into the kitchen. “Yep, we

changed a shitload of the actual details and made it seem
like the guy made the right choice. The theatrical ending was
far more marketable to the general public.”

Startled, Mark nearly fell off his stool. Recovering his

balance, he stood up and walked toward Nick. Wrapping his
arms around him, Mark pressed his lips to Nick’s.

Nick threaded his fingers through Mark’s sandy locks as

the heat between them escalated.

Opening his mouth, Mark invited Nick inside. It was a

place of warmth and passion Nick had grown to love, and his
body reacted, desire growing with every moment they
touched. Nick couldn’t get enough of Mark and wanted to
drag him off to the bedroom then and there.

“Ahem, boys, you can eat whatever dessert you want

later, but dinner will be ready soon, and Bobby isn’t around
right now, so I’d appreciate a little decorum while I’m feeling
extremely envious.”

Grinning at his friend, Nick asked, “Why doesn’t Bobby

come over more often? I’d like to get to know him.”

Ken dropped the fork he was using to turn over the

chicken. “Oh my God! The last time Bobby was here you
asked him if he knew what number boyfriend he was on my
scorecard. It took me a week to convince him I wasn’t a
complete flake.”

Mark glared at Nick. “You didn’t!”
Feeling a rush of heat on his cheeks, Nick turned away

and shrugged. “I screwed up; I admit it.” He cupped Mark’s
chin, and looked into his eyes. “I didn’t understand how you

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could get so attached to another person in such a short
time.”

Offering a quick peck on the cheek after retrieving a

clean fork, Ken whispered, “And do you now?”

Stepping back, Nick looked at Ken and then Mark. “Alan

wasn’t easy, but he was a habit. As it turned out, he was a
bad habit, although he did feed my creativity.”

“And our bank accounts, after the show got a good

review in The Advocate, despite the guy ending up with the
girl.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. How long have you

been writing reviews?”

Nibbling on the corner of his thumbnail, Mark lowered

his  head.  “Long  enough  to  have  a  reviewed  a  little  Off
Broadway show with a sweet ending that made sense for the
protagonist.  I  believe  I  understood  that the  guy  could  never
commit  to  his  male  lover.  It  was  better  that  he  left  him  so
they could both have fulfilled lives.”

Ken grabbed Mark from behind and gave him a big kiss

on  the  cheek.  “I  can’t  thank  you  enough.  That  review
spearheaded  our  career.  We  got  oodles  of  attention  after  it
was  published,  and  the  show  ran  with  sold  out  houses  for
eight months.”

“I know. I saw it twice.”
Nick walked out of the kitchen, overwhelmed with the

topic of his former lover—his former love.

Warm hands massaged his shoulders as Mark followed

him into the dining area. “I get the feeling Alan’s marriage
wasn’t the actual end of the story.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

“He came back to see me at least three more times

during the first half year of his new life.”

“I assume see you is code for—he came to get a hot fix

with the kind of sex he really wanted.”

Nick nodded, then leaned into Mark’s ministrations as

he kneaded the knots that always formed whenever Nick was
reminded of those painful days.

“Please turn around, Nick.” Mark placed his hands

behind  Nick’s  head,  entangling  his  fingers  in  his  hair,  and
drew him in, crashing their lips together. Nick could feel the
pain  and  pleasure  of  his  lips  swelling.  He  felt  his  pants
tightening  as  the  kiss  became  needier.  Desperate  for  more,
Nick lifted the hem of Mark’s shirt, running his hands up his
lover’s  back,  keeping  him  close,  needing  to  touch  the
smooth,  muscular  body  he’d  grown  to—Nick  broke  apart
from  their  kiss  and  shook  his  head,  unwilling  to  finish  his
thought.

Panting as he stepped back for a moment, Mark gazed

into Nick’s eyes. “I know who I want, and I’m not afraid. Are
you?”

Resting his forehead against Mark’s, his own breathing

labored, Nick paused a moment before he grinned. “No. I
think for the first time in years I’m willing to take a chance.
I’m still nervous.” Nick took a deep breath, knowing he had
to admit his true feelings. “It hurt. The memory still hurts.”

“I want to walk down the street with you, hand-in-hand.

I want to introduce you to everyone I know, including my
parents. I want you to make love to me, and only me, and I
want you to understand you can always count on me. Damn,
Nick, I love you.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Closing his eyes, Nick took a leap of faith and

whispered, “Mark, I love you too.”

From the dining room table behind them, Nick heard

another  utensil  crash  to  the  floor.  Ken’s  smile  lit  up  his
entire  face.  “I  haven’t  been  this  thrilled  since  I  paid  off  my
last  credit  card  bill.  I’m  taking  out  a  bottle  of  wine…  and
calling Bobby. Nick, I think you’re ready to meet him again.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Chapter 9

“

’

not half bad, and Ken’s different around him.”

Mark remained quiet as he and Nick walked toward

Mark’s apartment.

“I would never have imagined Ken could be any more

alive or animated, but somehow he was, and it all started the
minute that guy walked through the door.”

“So does that mean you won’t brush Bobby off as

another soon-to-be-cast-off to add to Ken’s already long list?”

Nick started when Mark actually spoke.
Laughing, Mark laced his fingers with Nick’s as they

crossed the street. “I’ve been listening; there was just
nothing for me to add. At first I thought you might be jealous
of Ken’s boyfriends. I wondered if you two had—”

Stopping suddenly, Nick cut off Mark’s stream of

consciousness. “No. Never! We once fooled around a little
when we were kids, but that was it.”

Mark wrapped his arm around Nick’s waist and leaned

on his shoulder. “I know. Being around you both, getting to
know him better, has been eye-opening. You two are more
like brothers than lovers.”

Nodding, Nick gently rubbed his hand over Mark’s back

as they continued walking. “That sums us up pretty
accurately.”

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“The big surprise for me was when I realized Ken was

the big brother.”

Sighing, Nick gave Mark a squeeze. “You have been

paying attention.”

Mark snorted as they walked into his building.
The two entered Mark’s apartment. Without uttering a

sound, Nick took Mark’s hand and led him into the bedroom.

Running his hands down Mark sides until his fingers

met the hem of his shirt, Nick slowly lifted it off, tossing it
onto the floor.

Mark carefully unfastened each button on Nick’s shirt

until  the  garment  hung  open.  As  he  eased  it  off  Nick’s
shoulders  an  inch  at  a  time,  Mark’s  lips  followed,  tenderly
licking,  nipping,  and  kissing  each  newly  exposed  patch  of
skin.

Nick’s breath hitched when Mark began to suck on his

nipple. Beads of sweat broke out on Nick’s forehead. He
wanted more of Mark; he wanted all Mark had to give.

This would finally be their night, and Nick understood

this wasn’t only about sex. It was about love. He had been
waiting far too long, and his desire increased with each
passing moment.

Nick ran his hand down Mark’s bare chest, then even

lower, pressing it against the bulge in his lover’s pants. “I
want you. I want to be inside you. From our first night, this
is what I wanted.”

Mark teased the hairs at the nape of Nick’s neck and

looked him in the eyes. “I’m glad we waited. Thank you.”
Mark’s fingertips brushed over Nick’s earlobe as he

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whispered. “Make love to me.” It wasn’t just a request, but a
declaration and a hope as well.

Swallowing hard, Nick knew this was his time to step

up. “That’s exactly what it will be.”

His fingers trembling, Nick opened Mark’s belt and

unzipped his pants, lowering them along with his briefs.
Mark’s cock was already hard. Nick couldn’t resist the
longing to touch and hold, to attend to Mark’s need.

“Don’t.” Mark moaned. “I want to come with you, when

you fill me. Please.”

Nick battled the desire to throw Mark onto the bed and

take him fast and hard, Mark’s words having added fuel to
the already heated fire within. “You’re beautiful.”

The blush covering Mark’s face made him even more

irresistible. Nick’s passion escalated almost beyond control.
He quickly stripped off his own pants, kicking them away.

Taking hold of Mark’s hand once again, Nick guided him

onto the bed. The two lay facing one another. Nick ghosted
his fingers over Mark’s heated cheek, leaning in to kiss his
lips, now rosy and waiting to be devoured.

Moving ever closer, Nick aligned himself over Mark. The

feeling of their cocks rubbing together was almost
overwhelming.

After grabbing the lube off the bedside table, Nick

popped  the  cap,  squirting  some  into  the  palm  of  one  hand.
Before continuing, wanting to be certain this was what Mark
truly  wanted, he  gazed  into  Mark’s  eyes,  seeking  final
approval.

“Mark.”
“I love you, Nick.”

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Nick shivered as the words were spoken, knowing he felt

the same way. For the first time in over five years he once
again knew how it felt to be in love, and this time it was so
much more, so much better. This time it was everything.

Pressing his fingers inside, one at a time, Nick watched

as his lover’s head fell back onto the pillow, his back arching
as Nick opened him, prepared him, touched him from within.

“Now, Nick. Please.”
Not needing to be asked twice, Nick quickly opened the

condom and rolled it into place. His dick was hard with
desire for the man beneath him.

Feeling Mark’s legs circle his back, Nick carefully

entered. The heat shot through him, and it took all of Nick’s
control not to ram inside, but to enter as gently as possible.
This wasn’t about getting off; it was about sharing the
moment they gave themselves to each other.

Mark closed his eyes and nodded, and Nick continued to

join  them  in  the  most  intimate  of  ways.  When  he  was  fully
inside, Nick gazed down at Mark. His lips formed an O, but
nothing  came  out,  his  nails  digging  into  Nick’s  back.  Nick’s
breath  hitched  knowing  he  was  the  one  to  cause  Mark  to
experience the bliss of being filled by the man you love.

Nick stilled briefly, but soon couldn’t wait any longer.

He began to move, thrusting in and out, a rhythm new to
them, but seeming as natural as if the two had been together
for years.

Pulling Nick’s head down, Mark kissed him, his hands

gripping and scrabbling as their pace quickened.

“Oh God.”

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“Do you feel me, Mark? All of me becoming a part of

you.”

“Too much.” Mark’s eyes closed as he clung to Nick.

“Want more.”

Nick nipped, sucked, kissed, and licked Mark’s neck

and shoulders. He couldn’t get enough.

The two rocked as one. Mark tightened his hold on Nick

from inside and out. “Ahhh.”

Captured entirely in Mark’s embrace, Nick fell over the

edge with his lover. “Mark!”

They lay still as Mark’s legs relaxed, falling to the sides.

Breathing labored, neither said a word, but continued to
pepper kisses on one another.

Slipping out, Nick rolled to the side to remove the

condom.  Gazing  at  Mark,  his  blond  hair  matted  and
darkened  with  sweat,  face  flushed,  Nick  couldn’t  imagine  a
more  beautiful  sight.  He  felt  more  alive  than  he  could  ever
remember. “I love you.”

The grin on Mark’s face was the ultimate reward.
Nick held his man closer than he thought possible.

Although he knew it was ridiculously unrealistic, the
thought of never letting him go crossed his mind just before
he fell into a deep sleep.

sound of garbage cans crashing around on the sidewalk

below woke Nick with a start. He blinked, barely open eyes
scanning the room, remembering where he was and recalling
the pleasures of the previous night. His dick was ready and

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waiting for more, but he found himself alone in the bed; the
space next to him was empty.

Briefly alarmed, Nick started to sit up until Mark

entered, offering a steaming cup of coffee.

“Ken made it clear that playwrights are not morning

people. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Nick smiled. “Now I’m sure I love you.”
Eyes widening, Mark placed the cup on a coaster on the

nightstand nearest Nick. “So you really meant it. It wasn’t
just a line brought on in the throes of your orgasm.”

Hearing the tentative edge and worry in Mark’s voice,

Nick knew he had to make himself clear.

“I may not be great at a lot of things, but words are my

strength, and I don’t use the word love lightly. I meant what I
said, Mark. Come, sit next to me.” Nick patted the spot on
the bed next to him. Mark settled himself but didn’t move to
touch Nick, remaining hesitant.

Nick continued, “There’s no doubt in my mind. I never

imagined meeting someone in this crazy, new, online world
Ken signed me up for, but I did. I love you, and if you agree,
I’d like to consider us boyfriends, partners… but only if
you’re ready. No pressure.”

Mark’s tension visibly disappeared as he crashed their

lips together. Nick relished the onslaught, entangling his
hands in Mark’s sandy locks.

“Do I gather that’s a yes on the subject of being

partners?”

“Yes, definitely yes.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

“Well, okay then. How about my partner takes care of

this morning problem I seem to be having?” Nick stuck his
tongue in his cheek and winked.

“I’d love to, but if I don’t take off right now, I’m going to

be late.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve got another meeting with a

date from The Male Room.” Nick chuckled.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Hardly. I’ve been working on a

story, and I’ll be watching it reach its culmination today. I
have to go meet a couple of friends who’ve been giving me
the inside scoop.”

“Wow, that sounds a little too extra, extra, read all about

it to me, crossed with a bit of cloak and dagger. Where are
you heading?” Nick felt a sudden chill run up his spine.

“I can’t say anything about it now. It may sound a bit

theatrical, even to you, but I need to maintain the anonymity
of my sources. I’ll see you later.”

“Mark, I get the feeling you’re not getting the inside

track on some celebrity or theater news. This is about that
hard news story you’ve been working on, isn’t it?”

Biting his lip, Mark nodded.
Nick’s desire for relief of his “morning problem” was no

longer necessary, but his instincts about people were
sending out alarm bells. “It’s dangerous. What you’re doing
today could be dangerous.”

“I have to go, Nick. I’ve worked a long time for this, long

before I met you.”

Sitting cross-legged, Nick took Mark’s hands. “Promise

me you’ll be careful.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

“I’ll be with people who know what they’re doing.”
“Promise me!”
Mark nodded. “As careful as I can be.” He gave Nick a

quick peck on the cheek. “I love you and plan to see you
later, maybe even for lunch.”

“I’ll stay at my place all day. Ken says we need quality

writing time.”

“Good, I’ll call the minute I’m on my way.”
“You’d better.”
Mark moved off the bed, reached over to the nightstand,

and then threw something on the bed.

“What’s that for?”
“It’s a key to my apartment and a key to a fire-safe box I

keep under the bed. They’re yours.”

Nick frowned, understanding the meaning of the

gesture. He locked eyes on Mark. “Remember how I feel.”

Mark brushed his hand through his hair. “I could never

forget.”

Before Nick could think of another delaying tactic to try

to keep Mark from getting to his appointment, he heard the
door slam and realized Mark had already left. Turning the
keys over and over in his fingers, Nick felt alone, yet he
didn’t feel empty for the first time in years.

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Chapter 10

“

could you let him go?”

“Stop pacing. You look like the ridiculous cliché of an

expectant father.”

“Nicky, this is no time to joke,” Ken snapped. “Why did

you let him leave?”

“I’m not his parent, or his warden,” Nick barked back,

despite having asked himself the same question over and
over again throughout the afternoon. “He has every right to
do whatever he wants. I’m his—” Nick bit off his last words
as he watched Ken continue to stride briskly back and forth
across their living room.

“You’re his what?” Ken halted, turning abruptly to face

Nick. “Come on, Nick. It’s time to face it. What are you to
Mark?”

“Fuck you, Ken. I know what I am to him. I don’t have to

run around waving a banner yelling, I have a….” Nick’s voice
trailed off.

“You can’t even say it! Does he know how much he

means to you?” If Nick hadn’t been so angry he’d have been
amused at Ken’s outrage.

“Of course he knows. We talked about it this morning.”

Nick ran his fingers through his hair. “He knows I’m in love
with him. Is that what you wanted to hear?” His voice
escalating, Nick stood face-to-face with his best friend. “Or

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maybe you want to know that I’ve finally admitted we’re
boyfriends, partners, lovers, whatever the hell the PC term is
this week! Is that what you were looking for? I haven’t made
declarations of commitment, but that’s sure to follow if—”
Nick covered his face with his hands. “Oh God, if he comes
back to me.”

Ken’s voice softened to barely above a whisper. He put

his arm around Nick, holding him as Nick began to shake.
“He’ll come back to you. This isn’t Alan. Mark wants it all,
and he wants it all with you.”

“I know he’s working on a hard news story, something

big,  something  dangerous.”  Nick  pressed  the  heels  of  his
hands to his eyes. “Damn! Why didn’t I insist he tell me who
he’d  be  with,  where  he  was  going,  anything?  I  just  let  him
walk  out  and  leave  me  with  these.”  Holding  up  the  keys  to
the apartment and fire-safe lock box, Nick threw them across
the room. “He said he could be back by lunchtime, and now
it’s past dinner.”

Moving to the small bar cart in the corner of the room,

Ken poured Nick a double shot of Chivas. “Here, drink this.
It might help for now.”

Looking at the glass for a split second, Nick tossed back

the  drink  in  one  gulp.  “I  doubt  it,  but  it  couldn’t  hurt.”
Feeling  the  burn,  Nick  closed  his  eyes,  willing  his  phone  to
ring, announcing Mark’s imminent arrival.

Less than five minutes later, the cell phone sounded.

Nick nearly dropped it as he pulled it out of his pocket so
quickly. “Hello, Mark, where the fuck are you?”

“Hi to you too.”
“Sorry. I was expecting someone else.”

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“No kidding. I just wanted you to know the director loves

the new pages you emailed over earlier today. The cast will
be rehearsing the new sections tomorrow if you want to
watch and see how it plays out on the stage.”

“I can’t think about that right now. Can we talk

tomorrow?”

“Sure, sweetie. What’s up? Is everything alright?”
“I hope so, Sherry. I’ll get back to you.” Nick hated

rushing his and Ken’s manager off the phone, but he
couldn’t think about anyone or anything but Mark. A series
of police cars, sirens sounding, sped by on the street in front
of their building. The noise was so loud it was as if they were
driving through the apartment. “I’ve gotta go. Tomorrow.”

“Okay, hon. Just keep writing.”
“Aye, aye, captain. I wouldn’t want your wallet to get too

thin.”

“Hey, writing always helps when you’re in a less-than-

stellar mood, and for whatever the reason I can tell you’re
there. This is not about the money.”

“I know. I’m being a drama queen.” Nick rolled his lips

inward and whispered, “I hope.”

Ken took Nick’s hand and guided him to the sofa.

Taking the cell, he placed it on the coffee table in front of
them. “I’m going to make you a sandwich. We’ll sit here, talk
about some fresh ideas, and wait together.”

Nick nodded, although he wasn’t sure if he could be the

least bit creative.

Ken returned from the kitchen with two plates, filled

with chips and sandwiches. He hadn’t made it to his seat

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

before the cell shimmied across the table, vibrating as it
rang.

Checking the caller ID, Nick looked up at his dearest

friend. “It’s a hospital.”

“Shit!”

ICK

grabbed Mark, embracing him tighter than he had

intended. “You’re a goddamn asshole, leaving me to wonder
and worry all day about where the fuck you were, and
dreading what the hell might have happened to you!”

Mark leaned on Nick’s shoulder and rubbed his back.

“Wow, I didn’t know you had such a trashy mouth. It’s
incredible what we learn about each other as time goes by.”

Chuckling nervously, Nick crashed his lips onto Mark’s,

his hands gripping the sides of his head, the kiss demanding
and needy. “I repeat, you’re an asshole. How could you leave
me hanging all day?”

“It’s a little hard to tell the police officers I was permitted

to ride along with on a major meth factory bust that we
needed to make a pit-stop so I could check in with my
boyfriend. I’m not sure I’d be taken seriously in the future.”

“Well, what took them so long? You were gone for twelve

fucking hours.”

Smiling, Mark ghosted his fingers over Nick’s cheek. “I

know, and I’m sorry I worried you.”

Ken snorted. “Honey, he passed worried at lunchtime,

you should be thinking in terms of out-of-his-mind by mid-
afternoon.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Wrapping his arm around Nick’s waist, Mark nestled his

head  back  into  Nick’s  shoulder.  “Apparently,  they  needed
one  last  sting  while  we  waited  to  grab  the  dealers  and
manufacturers all at once. I sent in the story while the dealer
who  got  shot  was  being  admitted  to  the  hospital.  It’ll  be  in
the papers in the morning. The AP will be distributing it.”

“How does someone who writes theater reviews end up

on a drug bust, sending stories to the Associated Press?”
Ken took a bite of the sandwich that had gone uneaten for
almost two hours.

“I like writing the light stuff. It makes for a relaxing,

consistent  living,  and  I  get  to  see  all  the  plays  I  want  on
someone  else’s  nickel.  But  I’m  a  journalist.  I  need  to  report
the  news.  It’s  part  of  who  I  am.”  Mark  turned  to  face  Nick.
“Can you handle it, or is this a deal-breaker?”

Nick rested his forehead against Mark’s. “The only deal-

breaker is if you put yourself in harm’s way against your
better judgment… or decide you want a beard and go in the
closet.”

The grin across Mark’s face matched the one Nick was

sure he was sporting. “I always play safe, and there are
definitely no women who will ever share my bed. Besides, my
guess is that place is already filled.”

“Then I guess we have a deal.” Nick pressed his lips to

Mark’s, and the two became lost in each other. Opening his
mouth, Nick invited Mark inside.

The sound of sniffling in the background invaded the

moment. Nick and Mark faced Ken as he was dabbing his
eyes. “Oh, Nicky, you know how I love a happy ending.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

“Uh huh. Why do I get the feeling my love life is about to

become fodder for our next paycheck?”

Mark tilted his head. “Does this mean I get a featured

role in your next play, metaphorically speaking?”

Nick huffed. “Are you kidding? You’ll be one of the

stars.”

“We should call Sherry,” Ken snickered. “She loves

falling asleep with little dollar signs in her eyes, and I get the
feeling this one will make her a bundle.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Chapter 11

EATED

last row, aisle seat, in the orchestra section of the

theater,  Nick  enjoyed  a  full  view  of  the  audience  and  their
reactions  to  the  opening  night  performance.  Ken  sat  across
the  aisle,  nervously  biting  his  thumbnail,  knowing  there
would be theater critics in the audience, wondering whether
their reviews would be favorable or not, whether they had a
hit or a failure on their hands.

Glancing at the beautiful blond sitting next to him, Nick

leaned  in,  giving  Mark  a  chaste  peck  on  the  cheek  and
whispering  in  his  ear.  “Are  you  sure  you  can’t  write  the
review for this show? It would ensure Ken’s sanity.”

Mark looked beyond Nick, toward the stewing

playwright devouring his fingernail, and smirked. “I’m trying
to maintain my reputation and avoid any conflict of interest.
Besides, hon, from the looks of it, you won’t have any
problem finding extremely flattering quotes from every critic
in Manhattan to post on the marquee.

“I’ll take that as an expert opinion.”
The two sat quietly, holding hands, as the play

continued through the crucial final scenes.

Nick watched as several people in the audience

alternated between dabbing their eyes and laughing out
loud. The reactions to the character of Arnie, walking out on
his lover and into his wife’s arms at the end of the first act
drew gasps and pitiful moans from those watching. As the

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

play drew to a close, would the theatergoers accept the love
found by the abandoned lover in that most common of
twenty-first century places—an online dating service?

Nick always questioned his character development, but

even more so now when it was the closest reflection of his
real life he’d ever written.

Ken and he had made a conscious choice to keep the

lovers gay. The time was right, and Sherry hadn’t had as
much trouble finding backers as she would have a decade
earlier.

Mark had been kept in the dark about the particulars of

the  script,  and  Nick  had  refused  to  divulge  a  single  hint
about  the  final  scene.  As  it  began,  Nick  took  Mark’s  hand
between both of his and gently brushed his fingers over his
lover’s. When the characters on the stage spoke, Nick hoped
Mark  would  understand  the  words  stemmed  from  Nick’s
heart. After dating for nearly a year, he willed Mark to hear
his  voice  in  the  dialogue.  Knowing  they  could  read  each
other’s  thoughts  most  times,  this  was  the  moment  it
counted.

Nick sat back and watched Mark’s reactions, rather

than the characters on stage.

“Should we move in together?”
“I thought you already had. You’re here six nights out of

seven as it is, and my closet has more of your clothes in it
than my own.” The performers kiss, smiling broadly at one
another.

“I mean, should we make it official; as official as the law

allows? You know, all that joyous paperwork, Domestic
Partnership Agreements, Powers of Attorney and anything

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

else to cause significant hand cramp to any gay wanting his
partner to become his….”

“Husband?”
The actors hugged, and the audience oohed and aahed

in all the right places.

“So, is it a deal?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something? Don’t I get the part

where you get down on one knee and propose?”

“If that’s what it takes.”
The characters chuckled together on stage as one goes

down  on  his  knee,  and  the  stage  lights  soften  slowly,
creating  a  romantic  setting.  The  audience  laughed  along  as
they  heard  the  beginnings  of  the  humorous  proposal,  the
couple on stage offering up a variety of different parameters
for their version of marriage within the limits the current law
allowed.

Nick noticed Ken wringing his hands, and Bobby stilling

them  to  keep  him  from  rubbing  his  skin  raw.  He  gently
removed  one  hand  from  where  it  was  holding  Mark’s  and
pulled  a  signet  ring  out  of  his  inner  jacket  pocket  and
whispered in Mark’s ear. “My mother and father gave me this
when I graduated from college. It’s always meant a great deal
to  me.  I  won’t  get  down  on  one  knee,  but  do  you  believe  in
happy, clichéd endings as much as Ken and I do? I’d really
like to make this completely autobiographical.”

Mark’s eyes widened. He stared at Nick as if he’d

sprouted a third eye. “You know if we do this, the play will be
even more in demand. Everyone will want to see your play,
knowing it truly is art imitating life.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

Nick winked. “Yeah, that was the plan the whole time. I

fall in love with my one and only online date, and then write
a two-act play to make sure it was worth the effort.”

“I knew there was a good reason for us to stay together.”

Mark offered his hand, and Nick slipped the ring on his
finger. “Does this mean I also need to give you a ring to seal
the deal?”

“You’re damn right, you do. I’m not easy, you know.”
“No, you are definitely not easy. But I like a worrisome,

loving partner.” Mark brushed his lips over Nick’s and leaned
on his shoulder.

As the play reached its final moments, a hush fell over

the audience when Arnie reappeared. Arnie spots the newly
committed lovers in the street as his obviously pregnant wife
drags him around shopping for baby clothes. A few grumbles
of, “Serves you right,” could be heard throughout the
theater. Nick grinned and sat back when the lights faded to
black. He reveled in hearing the thunderous ovation given to
the actors during the curtain calls.

Stepping out of his seat and off to the side, Nick let the

rest of the audience pass him on their way out of the theater.
Mark told Nick he’d head backstage with Ken and Bobby to
congratulate the cast.

Alone, relishing the glory of what promised to be a

successful premiere, he felt a hand run up his back. “Hi,
Nick.”

Coughing in shock, Nick held onto the back of the seat

at his side. “Alan. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve never missed an opening, and when I heard the

publicity for this one I knew I needed to be here.”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

“Where’s the missus?” Nick wanted to remain cool and

nonchalant, but it was impossible. He heard the venom in
his voice. It was as if someone else was speaking.

Alan snorted. “I never bring her to your plays. They’re

my way of having time alone with you. I miss our time.” Alan
ran his fingers up and down Nick’s arm, a blush rising on
his cheeks as he worked his fingers toward Nick’s hand,
gripping it briefly.

Nick glared at Alan as the last patron of the arts left the

theater, leaving them completely deserted. “We were never
alone. Your wife, your parents, your insecurities always kept
us from truly being alone together.”

Alan nodded. “I think of you often.” He reached up,

ghosting his fingers over Nick’s cheek and cupping it gently.
“We could still enjoy remembering the past.”

“You know, Alan, a year ago I would have jumped at the

chance to run to the Marriott and make the most of a night
with you.”

“And now?” Alan questioned coyly as he continued to

touch Nick. The sensation prickled at Nick’s skin. Where
once Alan’s touch would have aroused desire and longing, all
that came to mind now were vivid, painful memories, and
feelings of anger and betrayal. His thoughts turned to Mark.

“And now I think you’re a pathetic coward. If you’ll

excuse me, I have notices to check and a partner who needs
and deserves my undivided attention. Oh, and by the way, I
have his undivided attention as well. That thing you just saw
on stage was completely accurate.”

“Don’t you think our history is worth remembering?”

The Playwright | Carolyn LeVine Topol

“Only in the same way a person might remember having

sat through a root canal. I have to go. Oh, and I won’t tell
Sherry I mentioned this since she lives for money, but don’t
buy any more tickets to my plays unless you want to keep
mooning over something you will never have again.”

Nick took a deep cleansing breath, and walked directly

backstage  to  lay  a  grateful  and  passionate  kiss  on  the  only
man  he  truly  loved.  He  reached  the  entry  to  the  corridor
leading  toward  the  dressing  rooms  and  found  Mark  leaning
against the threshold. “How much did you hear?”

“More than enough.”
“And you decided not to come to my rescue?”
Mark smirked. “You didn’t need saving. Listening to you

made me fall in love with you all over again.”

“That’s an incredibly cheesy line, too cheesy even for

one of my plays.”

Swatting Nick gently on the arm, Mark continued. “Then

I guess your career will never be threatened by me. I’m filled
with cheesy, but honest, lines.”

Nick brushed his hand through Mark’s hair. “Does this

mean I’ll be getting lucky tonight?”

Laughing out loud, Mark winked. “As many times as

you want.” Their lips crashed together, the world around
them disappearing.

Pulling apart, Mark took a deep breath. “Let’s join the

others and check out the reviews as soon as they’re
released.”

Lifting the hand on which Mark wore the ring, Nick

tenderly kissed the pads of each finger. “No need. We’re a
hit.”

About the Author

Born in Brooklyn,

AROLYN

INE

OPOL

grew up just

outside  New  York  City.  Three  passions  dominated  her  life:
reading,  writing,  and  theater.  Having  always  dreamed  of
writing her own version of The Great American Novel, it took
her  many  years  to  discover  her  most  heartfelt  stories  took
their  form  in  the  creation  of  M/M  romances.  Sharing  her
writing with a small circle of online friends, Carolyn received
advice, encouragement, and joy from their feedback.
Spending  her  days  working  as  an  executive  assistant  in  a
synagogue,  Carolyn  relishes  the  quiet  wee  hours  of  the
morning to lose herself in writing of the loves, passions, and
adventures driving her characters.
With  the  backing  of  a  supportive  husband  and  two  young
adult  children,  Carolyn  continues  to  explore  the  fabulous
world  of  gay  romance  with  the  philosophy  “Every  person
deserves their happy ending.”
Visit Carolyn’s web site at

http://www.carolynlevinetopol.com

and her blog at

http://carolyn-l-topol.livejournal.com

You can contact her at

cstopol@gmail.com

The Male Room novellas

from

AROLYN

INE

OPOL

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Also from

AROLYN

INE

OPOL

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

The Playwright ©Copyright Carolyn LeVine Topol, 2011

Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by Paul Richmond http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is
illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon
conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No
part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To
request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite
244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

Released in the United States of America
August 2011

eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-925-6

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