The apartment is empty when I get back from my business trip, in spite of the fact that it's eight at night. As I take off my shoes, shrug off my jacket and loosen my tie, I glance at the answering machine; no message... I check in the closet for his clothes; they're still there... and so are his clothes in the laundry. Still unwashed... messy kid. There's some food in the fridge as well that's not my handiwork; I reach in and snatch a chicken leg; munch on it as I go to the bathroom and turn on the bath faucet with my foot.

I'm not concerned. Sometimes he's home, sometimes he's out without a word. He's like that... he comes and goes; he gives and takes... just like with his studies. Maybe he's failed something and got reeled back into line... run out of money... or maybe his parents have found out about us. Or maybe he's lost interest. Either way, he knew I was coming back tonight and he found something more important to him than me. I snort, toss the leg into the toilet bin on my way to wash my hands; the crash of water in the bathtub is deafening...

I guess this is what you could call a noncommittal relationship. Or is it? I'm perturbed to suddenly find myself staring critically at my face in the mirror... searching for wrinkles... wondering if he'd care if I wore glasses instead of contacts. I was doing this in the hotel as well, in between checking my pager and cell for messages... and my watch. I exhale, turn and go shut off the faucet, then return to the hall to pick up the phone... call the latest cell I bought him.

"You okay?" I ask as soon as I hear his voice on the other end. I'm surprised to hear my own voice shaking with anxiousness... and even more stunned at how relieved I am after hearing his response. "Ah... I'll pick you up. No, it's too late for you to walk back; I'll come... it's no problem."

In the sedan, I hope he doesn't think I'm being too forceful. That'd push him away, wouldn't it? Or maybe I should be more forceful... better to let him know that I'm here for him, right? I smile at my own thoughts; how insecure... maybe I really am in love with that kid. I open the window, let in the smell of the city and car exhaust... let it wash away the smell of leather... let the cold air rush against my face, breeze through my hair.

It's quiet and dark on the road outside the school's back gates. I draw up a short walk from the gates, within sight of them, but far enough away so as not to draw too much attention. There are other cars parked nearby... most of them empty, but some of them have one or two people in them... probably parents. The battered station wagon opposite me contains a man who looks much older than me; this is slightly relieving... at least I'm not as old as these parents... assuming they are parents and not like me. Just parents waiting to pick up their kids. The man suddenly turns his head and looks in my direction; he can't see me through the small opening in the tinted windows, but I wonder what he's thinking... the thought makes me suddenly smirk.

Suddenly, the passenger door clicks open and the lights inside the car switch on. I look around, eyes wide, alarm freezing my lungs. Caught? No... it's him. I watch his slim form slide with the fluid ease of teenage youth into the seat beside me, twist around to squeeze his school bag through the gap between our seats and I smile, automatically finding myself following the hard lines of his figure through his uniform. He looks around, catches my expression with his sharp expressive eyes, shoots me a sudden grin. "Hey! Did ya miss me, Sugar Daddy?" He pulls his door shut; we're plunged back into shadow.

I snort at his chosen endearment and, partly in response to the taunt, partly out of tradition, lean towards him, slip my arm around the back of his shoulders, one hand on the steering wheel, and draw him into a deep kiss. When I pull back, I observe the glazed expression in his eyes with some smugness, then gasp in surprise when he grabs me by my tie and pulls our lips back together into a bruising kiss, his tongue stabbing insistently inside my mouth. When it ends, I lean back, eyes wide. Now it's his turn to look smug, to flash me a look that hints at more to come. Then, as I'm staring at this seductive expression, it suddenly hits me.

He missed me.

Maybe this relationship might just become a committal one.