Friends With Benefits

“That’s him,” Matty says through
gritted teeth. “He’s right behind you.”
Without hesitating, I seize Matty’s torso, push him
against the bathroom wall, and shove my tongue into
his mouth. Matty melts into the kiss. I grind my
crotch into his, and he moans. Moments later, the bathroom
door slams behind us.

I met Matty three
weeks before at the same Toronto nightclub we’re in
tonight. He’s a sexy 20-something with the metabolism
of a piranha and the enthusiasm to match. It was your
typical boy-meets-boy-for-the-night story -- eyes lock
on the dance floor, bodies gravitate toward each
other, and the next thing you know it’s morning and
you’re looking for your socks on someone
else’s bedroom floor.

We met for dinner
a few nights later -- not so typical -- and both of us
made a point of stressing that we weren’t looking for
anything but friendship. He said he had just gotten
out of a four-year relationship with an abusive,
cheating boyfriend, and I was the first person he’d
“met” since. I was only in town for a few
months shooting a TV show, so anything more than
friendship would be complicated -- particularly with
someone, ahem, 10 years younger than me.

Our acquaintance
has many perks. Looking at Matty is as addictive as his
energy. And every 10 minutes he tells me how hot he thinks I
am, which is exactly the ego boost I need to offset
nine years in Los Angeles, where I feel like a
complete turd. When he introduces me to his circle of
friends, I’m given a hero’s welcome because
Matty finally has a distraction from Jerry, the evil
ex-boyfriend. These friends carried Matty through the
years it took him to finally walk out, and they
continue to stand by him as he pretends not to notice
Jerry’s parade of new flings.