Can Joe reconcile his belief in the tenets of Orthodox Judaism with the religion's disapproval of his sexual orientation? Or will his crush on his friend Yehuda ruin their friendship and leave him ostracized by his community? What will happen on the third night of Hanukkah?
We reached my building, a two-story with rounded sections out front, and I led him up the outside stairs to my apartment, and unlocked the door. “It’s kind of a mess,” I said, ushering him inside. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“It’s okay.” He raised his arm and sniffed his pit. “You’re right, we both need showers.” He pulled his T-shirt off, leaving him in his kattan, the cotton undershirt with the fringes hanging off. The knots were all white, as in the Ashkenazi tradition.
He dropped the T-shirt on the floor and then tugged the kattan over his head, and I got to see his chest.
It was impressive for a twenty-something accountant. Squared pecs dusted with dark hair, a smooth abdomen and a tan line just above his bush of black pubic hair. My dick pronged up, fortunately restrained by the jock strap and hidden by the baggy shorts. Yehuda looked at me. “What, are you shy?” he said, as he kicked off his sneakers and socks. “Or you don’t like to think of your living room as a locker room?”
I laughed and pulled off my shoes and socks. As I lifted my sweaty T-shirt off over my head, Yehuda dropped his shorts and his boxers, and he stood there naked in front of me. His dick was solid-looking in repose, nestled atop his balls. If he’d turned his head and cocked his arm, he would have resembled Michelangelo’s David.
“The bathroom’s through there,” I said, nodding toward the bedroom. “If you want to go first.”
He looked at me and licked his lips. My heart rate accelerated as I realized he was waiting for me to strip, too. What the fuck? I’d always thought Yehuda was a straight arrow.
Well, if he wanted to play that game, I was ready to. I kept my eyes on him as I shucked my shorts, leaving my dick enclosed in the white cotton jock, which was stained with sweat and pre-cum. “You said the shower’s through there?” he asked, walking toward me.
I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak.
Neil Plakcy was a spoiled only child who celebrated both Hanukkah (when he got a small present each night) and Christmas (when his big presents arrived.) He loves writing about both holidays, especially when he can incorporate details of his home in South Florida.
Character-driven mystery, romance and mainstream novels
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