AN: This is a short story that I have had sitting around for a long time. It was previously published on my website and also in an anthology that I released ages ago. It's no longer available anywhere and I just thought that was a shame because after all this time, Red Scarf remains one of my favorite pieces of writing that I have ever done.

I really hope that you enjoy it and let me know with a vote, comment, fav, follow, etc. :)

Also, this one is MATURE! Be warned! (and apparently I have a fetish for the name Jared... Seriously, I have so many Jareds in stories...)

Red Scarf

I shake the door a little until the lock clicks into place, then turn to look at Jared.

As usual he looks awkward. His eyes wander over my ratty studio apartment until he feels me watching him. His eyes look into mine hungrily. Subconsciously he licks his lips and I can't help but smile.

As I walk up to him I pull off my shirt and watch him lean back on the bed so I can straddle him.

I can already feel how hard he is as he pulls me down over him, pressing his soft lips into mine. His hands are shaking. As usual I'm surprised by this.

Suddenly he pulls back. He holds my face gently and stares at me. I look away, like I normally do. He looks sad. I can't stand that expression.

He always likes to look at me. I don't mind, but sometimes the look he gives me-whatever heartache or dilemma he's trying to forget by sleeping with me, I don't think my face helps him.

He's a cute boy, younger than me, for sure, though I don't know his age. He shouldn't have to pay for sex, but he definitely does. At least once a week, but lately it's been more often.

I could almost close up shop and live off-or in-just him, but there's no guarantee that he won't get bored of me. The thought's a little sad. I like the way he comes.

He cups my cheek and turns me to face him. His round blue eyes look glassy.

"Where's your red scarf?" he asks.

Ah, yes.

I climb off of him and pull the closet open. I don't have many clothes so the scarf is easy to spot. The long length of cherry red unfurls prettily as I pull it out.

I've had it for a long time, so some of the wool has frayed around the edges, but altogether it still looks new.

I wrap it around my neck and wiggle my hips with a grin. Jared's serious expression finally breaks and he smiles.

He rolls onto his side to watch me.

"You don't have to wear it," he says. "I was just wondering where it was."

I roll my eyes.

"Sure, sure." I come back to the bed and bounce back on top of him.

"Well, you always have it out, so-"

I kiss him to shut him up. It doesn't really matter what he wants. I'll do almost anything as long as I get paid.

I begin to rock against him and he moans at once. He pushes up into me for a moment and then suddenly, rolls me over.

He whips his shirt off and unbuckles my belt before bending over me and sucking his way down to my boxers. He peels them away, taking his time to slide the rest of my clothes down my legs.

He turns his attention to my semi hard cock and begins to massage it. He watches me while he does it so I have to be careful to show I like it. Sometimes I'm completely inexpressive without meaning to be.

He pushes my knees apart and presses his face against my inner thighs, kissing and licking until he comes to my cock.

My moan surprises me, but not as much as Jared's cock sucking skills. I try to bite back my cries but that's nearly impossible.

I lift my head up to look at him. He's watching me and the look in his eyes makes my hips jerk violently into his mouth.

He moans.

"Ah! Jared, I'm gonna come."

He pulls away before I even register what I've said.

"Wait-keep going."

He shakes his head. A second later he's lifting my hips slightly off the bed. I'm surprised by this. Normally he wouldn't be sliding his tongue along my ass.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

Without lifting his head, he slides his tongue into my hole. My entire body convulses and I choke a little on my words.

He chuckles.

"I want to be on top today," he says.

A fire work of nerves lights in my stomach. In all the nights of fucking, he's never seemed interested. He can't even bring himself to say the word for god's sake.

"I want to fuck you." His breathy use of the word gives me a little more confidence.

"You said a bad word," I mutter.

"Oh shut up," he says, slapping my thigh gently. He then returns his mouth to its previous task.

Again, I can't hold back the gasps and moans.

His fingers join his tongue and if he doesn't stop soon, I'm definitely going to come. I know he wants to fuck me first so I really should tell him, but-.

I inhale roughly and as I do, everything stops. "What-?" He's positioning himself so I shut up.

The first thrust is slow. I can feel myself stretch hungrily around him. I forgot for a minute how big his cock is-too big, almost, for his small unassuming frame.

"Does it hurt?" he asks. So sweet. He's forgotten that I do this for a living.

I pull him down into a kiss without answering. He returns it enthusiastically, finally moving his hips as he does.

He slides in and out of me slowly, moaning in his sweet raspy voice as he does. I shut my eyes, enjoying the feeling.

His hand wraps around my cock, jerking it as he begins to thrust faster. I clutch his shoulders, moving with him.

I'm taken by a sudden panic that he won't let me finish and begin to thrust faster, his cock pounding into me until my whole body quivers and my throat feels raw. As a last thought, I reach for the scarf around my neck, trying to pull it off.

His hand lets go of my throbbing cock and is suddenly clutching my hand.

"Leave it on," he says.

We've stopped moving.

I jerk my wrist out of his grasp. "I don't wanna get come on it," I say and toss the scarf aside.

Hoping he won't make a fuss, I begin to move again. Thankfully he gets back into the rhythm. Jared bends over me, fucking me faster and harder. Trying not to think, I clutch onto him until he pushes into me one last time, moaning loudly. His warmth spills into me and I realize vaguely that he didn't use a condom before I'm coming all over his chest.

We breathe against each other for a while and then he rolls off of me. His fingers play in my hair. I close my eyes. When I open them again everything feels very still. I look over to where Jared had been laying. He's still here. My long red scarf is twisted delicately around his hands. He's gazing at it with that expression, the one that I can't stand, but since it's not directed at me, I keep looking. The color of his eyes are so crisp; it makes it stand out when a sheen of tears covers them. They're glassy now.

"Why do you like it so much?" I ask. It's sort of a personal rule that I don't ask personal questions, but this one has to do with me.

He glances at me, then quickly away.

"The color suits you," he says. His voice softens. "You were wearing it the first time I saw you."

I swallow.

If the memory of me is what keeps giving him that sad moony expression, then that is definitely not good.

"Where did you get this?" he asks. He's not looking at me.

"I bought it," I say. "I've had it for a while."

"From where?" he interrupts.

"Some second hand store," I say. "It's nothing special; I got it off the sale rack."

His face falls.

"Oh."

I roll onto my side to face him and drape an arm over his chest.

"I should go," he says suddenly.

I freeze.

"What?"

Still without looking at me, he pulls out of my loose hold and stands up. He hesitates a moment, staring at the scarf and then puts it down on the bed.

"It's only one thirty," I say. "We have time for more-."

"I can't," he says. He's dressed now.

"Y-you paid for the whole night...."

He stops at the door and looks back at me.

"I know," he says. He looks away. "You can keep all the money."

The door swings shut behind him.

I know I should go after him. I should make a bigger fuss at least, about losing a customer, but I'm not sure what I did wrong.

Two weeks pass. I'm starting to miss Jared's face. I'm wondering more than ever about the look in his eyes. I'm thinking more and more about the color red.

No one else really stays the night, like he did. Maybe I'm just missing the company.

It's not like I've been lonely. Every night I have one of my boys here. I even got a new customer, which is always a good thing, but like a fool I've been wearing that red scarf everyday and tucking it safely away before anyone else can get it.

Dennis is coming over soon so I'm standing at the closet with the scarf in my hand. It's a nice scarf; cherry red, looks hand knit, but it's nothing really special. Funny that it had such an effect on both of us.

The phone rings.

I pick it up quickly and flop back onto the bed as I answer.

"Hello?"

"H-hi."

I freeze.

"Jared?" I ask.

"Yeah, it's me." He sounds uneasy, as usual. "How've you been?"

"Okay," I answer. I try to make it casual but my voice sounds so heavy. He says nothing for a while. Why did he call? "Do you want to come by or something?" Maybe he wasn't quite done with me.

"No," he says. "That's sort of why I called.... I don't think that I can come see you anymore." He sounds so resolute. Knowing Jared, he's agonized over this.

"Just wanted to make this more official, eh?" I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. "Why are you breaking up with me, anyway?" I ask. I sit up, my fist clenching around the phone. "We were never together."

When he finally answers, his voice is shaking and cold.

"Obviously you can handle that. I'm not doing this for you; I'm doing this for me."

"Wait." I don't want him to hang up. I want to hear his voice a little longer but-what's the point? He doesn't want me anymore. "Do you want my scarf as a goodbye present? I know how much you'll miss it."

"It was never about the scarf-."

"Then what was it?"

"I had the same one when I was younger, that's all. My mom gave it to me." I shut my eyes. I should just hang up, but I really love his voice.

Please keep talking.

"She made it for me." His voice is very quiet now.

"Did something happen?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says, "really soon after she finished it, she died."

I can hear him breathing. I wish he was here in the room with me.

"You don't still have it?" I ask. Anything so he'll talk a little longer.

"No, I gave it away when I was younger," he says. "To this little boy."

My skin prickles.

"You thought I was him."

"I guess it's stupid." He's silent for a moment. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm hanging up."

I let him.

His voice rings in my ears. I was the one sparking those looks into his eyes after all. Was this the last time I would hear his voice?

There's a knock on the door. I look over as it opens. Dennis. I forgot about him.

"Hey sexy." He smiles. "What are you doing still dressed?"

His smile makes me feel ill. He's a lot older than me, his hair almost all white. He hasn't shaved which means he hasn't showered. He's already pulling off his jacket and coming toward me. That's all the coming he's going to do tonight.

I stand up abruptly and skirt around him.

"I have to go," I say hurriedly. My coat is already on.

"What? I just got here."

"I know," I say. I pull the scarf out of the closet.

"Do you really want to lose my business?"

I try to look at him but can't.

"Sorry," I mutter and leave him standing alone in my apartment.

I don't care. There's nothing really there but a bed anyway. I can live without Dennis. Jared on the other hand...

I know I'm being an idiot. Jared said he didn't want me, but here I am running to him.

I don't know what I expect to find. Will he be angry? Happy? Disappointed?

The red of the scarf made my eyes hurt the first time I saw it. Until then, everything had been grey and cold and then suddenly there was color and warmth. I didn't know what to do with it so I hid it under my mattress. For four years, anytime the loneliness was too much I sneaked up to my room in the orphanage and put it on. And then I felt warm.

I'm shaking now from the cold, standing in front of Jared's apartment. I can't remember what number he lives in. I don't know his last name.

"What are you doing here?"

I start slightly at his voice.

There he is, standing by the door watching me.

Is it really him?

When I don't answer, he comes resolutely forward, stopping just in front of me.

He pries the red fabric from my frozen fingers and wraps it gently around my neck-just like he had eight years ago.

His face is so round and innocent. Just as sad. How could I not have noticed?

"It's the only thing I took with me when I ran away."

He looks up at me confused.

"You were older than me then," I say.

His hands slip down the length of the scarf and then catch around the ends, clenching.

He watches my face for a long time, his eyes unreadable until they begin to glass over.

"I still am," he finally says.

I push into his arms and he squeezes me tightly. Desperately.

The icy winter wind, the snow whipping my body, it doesn't make a difference. Jared's the only thing that has ever made me feel this warm. Him and his plain red scarf.

End