Tom M., at University of Chicago, was one of those sculptured, white-marble types of "living gods." A walking Greek statue. Don't believe me. Ask anybody of either sex.
U. of C. is very "gay" (they even have Tuition Remission for same-gender, live-in couples).So, Tom was in many people's "sights," as in cross-hairs. A Black friend of mine, Quint, was particularly taken with him as was John, my gay, but straight-acting roommate, along with many, many others. Like some beautiful "straight" or "bi" people, Tom was attractive to both sexes.
OK. But what was he himself like?
I got to know Tom after having a few beers with him at the U-Tavern just off campus, a School hangout with the usual atmospherics--loud talking, general hilarity, scraping chairs, cigaret smoke, loud laughter, clinking glass, etc. He and I talked and drank and talked and drank and talked, and took our several leaks in the Little Boys Room. And yes, I had THAT on my mind, his looking at me the way he did-well, not on my mind every minute. Sex is not everything.
Reading Tom, all I could fathom was that he was charming, fun to be with, and certainly great on the eyes, especially if he had on a short-sleeved-whatever and his shirt was unbuttoned at least three buttonholes down. You could very easily make him out that way. The pec cleavage. A Greek god! Not to mention the kind of curly, matted-down dark brown hair that looked like a crown resting on his well- shaped head. His face was finely "chiseled." Deep-blue eyes. He looked, no exaggeration! like he would stop traffic if he stepped out onto the street. Yet not a "pretty boy." Irish in his blood.
But I, nobody as far as I know, knew what kind of "(s)experience" he had had or was having. Tom was very much the playing-his-cards-close-to-his-chest type of person--and what a chest to hold his cards against!
When we met on campus again and decided to drink together again at the Tavern, we agreed to meet on a weekend night there. Saturday night. We stayed later than usual and drank more than usual. Not to drunkenness-both of us can hold our liquour-but drinking to a degree of "high foolishness," you might say. By1 a.m., I was feeling toally gamey as we left the bar and strode back to the campus. I asked him if he would like to take a look at my digs in International House, one of the nicer dorms on the U. of C. campus and nearer the tavern than his dorm. I told him I had a roommate but that he was away until possibly early the next morning.
So, we came into my very small, student's room with the double, upper-and-lower bunks. We threw down another can of Bud, talking about School, baseball, etc. Finally, it became obvious that he would probably just as soon stay the night in my room. Anyway, it seemed to be what he wanted to do since the walk to his dorm was almost half a mile away.
"But we'll have to sleep together up-top," I said. "Mark is expected home later, I think. OK?" I asked. The bed was quite narrow.
"Sure. We'll manage," he said somewhat dumbly and boozily.
So we climbed up and lay next to each other.
For the longest time we talked slowly and quietly. Then when it fell Quiet, I started to make a move. I just couldn't help myself. I started moving my thigh next to his sideways. He just kept his leg still. So I pressed even harder.
Suddenly, JEEZ! He reared up, looking fierce in the dim light thru the window from the street. Facing me, he slapped me across the side of my face! SHHHWAAAPPPP!!
"Don't DO that, AL! DON'T!!!"
I was in a state of shock, naturally. But I didn't panic. I collected my wits and simply apologized though I was shaking all over.. And believe or not, we both then fell off to sleep, pronto. No more words.
Next day I had the makings of a black eye-my first. and last one, I hope! Heh heh. Gay acquaintances of mine would titter at me, my other college friends tried to ignore it. I said nothing.
Next day, too, Tom was obviously almost obsequious and apologetic toward me as we sat down to breakfast in the IH cafeteria, sayhing nothing about the previous night, etc. some of the gays staring surreptitiously at us.. He's a blusher and his cheeks glowed red as he was talking to me. In general, I felt embarrassed and confused, and may have been bliushing myhself..
A few days later we even did our drinking thing againb together. But OF COURSE, I never invited him to my room and bed.
OK. End of story?
Well, but no, it isn't.
Some two years pass by. I am now in New York, at Columbia U. Frankly, by then I had all but forgotten Tom McX. Well, almost.The slapping incident I certainly remembered no matter how much I tried to forget it. Not a Mark of Cain but still a memory.
At Spring Break that next Term at Columbia, I get a message that I have a long-distance telephone call from N.J. I go down to the dorm phone and guess who? Right. Tom. He's very gung-ho about seeing me. He's just across the Hudson R. What do I suggest? he asks.
"Let's have dinner in the Village [Greenwich Village, Manhattan]."
"Cool!" he says. "An Italian place, OK? Do you know any good ones, Al?"
"Sure do," I said,. Remembering that Tom had a liking for Italian food as I do. So, we planned to meet at the Granada Restaurant, totally "Itie" ("eye-tie") just what we both wanted. Plus some Chianti.
Over our wine and pasta we reminisced like nobody's business. He was engaged to a girl in California and was in the East visiting his grandparents in N.J.
When we got to our second coffees-it was real late, the restaurant damned near closing up on us, we had talked so long-I asked him where he was going after this. "No one's in the dorm, Tom. You can sleep there tonight, if you want. Your own bed," I said lowering my eyes to avoid eye contact w/him (for obvious reasons).
"Hey, that's great, AL. I'd love that. Then I won't have to trek back to N.J."
And it was a trek since he grandparents lived in the boondocks there. And it was by now pushing 10 p.m. So, I invested in a taxi to get us all the way uptopwn to the Upper West Side of Manhattan to Columbia from the Village from way down below 8th St. $$$$$ Thought we'd ride in style, talk some more, which you can't do on a long subway ride. I think I also wanted to impress him. ;-) I guess the fare was like 7-10 smackers!
We went up to the multiplex dorm room-three sets of beds, all empty.
"Take your choice," I said pointing to the beds as we prepared to turn in.
I stealthily watched him undress. Somehow I could tell that he knew I was watching him-the dim light from a single student desk-lamp illumined his ever-so- beautiful, marble-white, defined bod. Standing there in his white briefs and curvy, lightly-touched-with-hair thighs, it was all I could do to keep my eyes off of him.
"Where are YOU sleeping?" he inquired.
"There," pointing to my bed, as a queer, funny feeling swept over me like a soft breeze.
He then chose one across the aisle from mine about two yards away. Well, so I figured he wanted to chat some more.
We lay there chatting. I detected a certaoin nervousness or tension in his voice. Then the talking stopped altgother. I could hear my own breathing.and his. I could sense that he wasn't asleep. A sixth sense, I guess.
So I just lay there on my back, my hands behind my head. Naturally, that "incident" of 2 years ago arose in my mind no matter how hard I tried to suppress it.
Then, all of a sudden! I sense Tom turning in my direction. I look over and he is looking at me in the dim light, his eyes almosty putting out beams, as they thought in medieval times eyes did. Then he says, so softly, so intently---"AL! You awake?"
Pause. Then he said: "Hey, can I join you over there? Kinda lonely where I am."
I thought, my God I'm imagining things, or dreaming, or something. There had been no hint of this at dinner. Saliva welled up in my mouth but I managed to mutter, "Why, sure, man. Come on over." And I lifted up the covers Of my all-too-narrow bed, as narrow as the one had been at U. of C..
Well, incredible as it may sound, Tom not only came into my bed, and quickly snuggled in beside me, he proceeded right then and there to go down on me!!! I kid you not! If ur surprised, imagine MY surprise!!
Grasping my cock almost too hard, he took it so deep into his mouth and throat that I thought he might choke to death!! My cock was more or less soft or "semi" when he started all this. But man did it get hard fast!!
I then started caressing every square inch of that bod of his. He loved it, offering this or that part by moving closer to my roaming hands. Then feeling the same parts on me. All over. At one point he even took one of my hands and placed it on one of his nipples-just in case I was being too restrained. Not likely! I was all over him!!
Then we kissed each other-deep-tonguing wildly, "slobbering" a lot. The way excited males always do!
I honestly thought I was dreaming. I think I may have even pinched myself to make sure I wasn't!
Well, we wound up 69-ing and cumming together right on the second With our 6-7-spurt orgasms. He tasted divine. And he swallowed my load, too.
Well, what next?
Nothing. Silence. Not even a washup. Back into his bed he went.
Next morning, again silence about the preceding night (of course) but pleasant, somewhat melancholic (on his part) talk over breakfast in the campus cafeteria.
Then he caught his train back to N.J.
I never saw him again or wrote to him.
But other acquaintances of his from School, the Black guy especially, kept me informed. Tom HAD married but had turned to drinking and was putting his marriage on the rocks. Too bad. I hoped that wasn't true. But I don't know.
"It was just one of those things..." as Cole Porter wrote in one of his best songs. Every time I play it on my keyboard, I think of a certain person.
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