Alright. I've finally done it. I've taken the plunge and posted a story. Please, please, please be kind. As always, if you're not supposed to be here, please leave. In other words, if men kissing, fucking, or doing anything remotely sexual offends, disgusts, or angers you then you should get the hell out of here. This story will eventually include sex between two men. But it is at heart, a love story. Plenty of sap, romance, and professions of love. So be warned.
This work is copyrighted and may not be used without explicit permission from the author.
The song "Two Doors Down" is copyrighted by Velvet Apple Music. Words and music by Dolly Parton.
Comments, suggestions, complaints are all much appreciated and welcomed at grassisb@aol.com.
Enjoy, Anthony
Prologue
March 17th, 2004
"Hey babe. Happy birthday."
I placed the bouquet on the headstone and brushed a stray leaf away. The tears already started. They started on the way actually. They always did. No matter how many times I came here. How many times I promised myself I wouldn't do it, the crying just never seemed to end.
I sat down on the ground not caring how muddy it was. This was my ritual. This was what I did every Sunday since he left me. I never missed one in the two years since he died. I sat there cuddled up to a tombstone and for two hours talked and talked and talked. And cried and cried and cried. I wiped off my face and smiled.
"Is had a baby boy. Can you believe she's a mother? I sure the fuck can't. But she loves every minute of it. She named him Sam. God baby I miss you so much. I know it's been two years and I should be over it but I still miss you. Your smell, your laugh, your smile, and the way you used to get excited over the most trivial things."
I wiped my face again. The tears usually come sporadically. I call it my schizo mode. One minute I'm fine and then the next I'm crying like a baby. He always made fun of me for that. I smiled, remembering exactly what it was I wanted to tell him today.
"Oh I forgot. She released a new album. Dolly that it is. You'd fucking love it too. She's got this great new song on there called "Blue Smoke." So goddamned catchy. Maybe country radio will finally play her again. She put a lot of classic folk remakes on there. "Me & Bobby McGee," "Imagine," "Blowin' in the Wind." Some awesome stuff. Next week, I'll bring it and play it for ya.
Dolly Parton. His pride and joy. Well next to me that is. It amazed me at the excitement he got out of hearing she was releasing a new album or if she would have a hit. Though I shouldn't be talking. I grew to love her just as much as he did as time went on. And so the conversations went on. Me talking to a headstone. But I wasn't really talking to just a headstone. I was talking to Sammy, the love of my life. Whether or not he was here or somewhere else didn't matter. Every Sunday, I went there to remember him, remember our love and the times we shared. I went there to honor him and his memory.
Chapter One - Two Doors Down
March 17th, 1994
"Two doors down, they're laughing and drinking and having a party
Two doors down, they're not aware that I'm around
Here I am crying my heart out, feeling sorry
And they're having a party just two doors down."
"Oh God, slam that cock in me. Yeah right there. Fuck that is soooo good."
It's not so good. It's soooo good. What the fuck is the difference?
"You like that babe? You like my cock in your tight ass."
Are you kidding me? You know he loves it, especially from those banshee sounds he's been making for the past hour.
"You know I fucking do."
Told ya.
God I need to get the fuck out of here. I hate my apartment. No I loathe it. I live in what is quite possibly the gayest apartment building in all of Manhattan. Now don't get me wrong. I loved it when I first moved in, when we first moved in. Then I certainly wouldn't have minded what twink and twinkette were doing next door. Hell we'd probably be doing the same thing. That is until he decided that it was just getting too darn serious. Who the fuck uses the word darn anymore? Oh well. His loss, not mine. At least that's what I keep trying to convince myself. Sometimes it works and sometimes well...
"Oh God I'm gonna cum. Ahhhh! I'm cumming, I'm cumming."
And I'm going, I'm fucking going.
Where to go? I know New York City and I'm trying to decide where to go. My friends always laugh at me when I say I'm lonely. "You live in New York and you can't find someone." Truth is, and I don't care what anyone says, it ain't easy anywhere, whether you live in Manhattan or Appalapachockie.
I'm not into one night stands. Don't get me wrong. Sometimes I envy the guys who go clubbing, fuck around, and then do it the night after. But that just isn't me. Never has been. Sure I've often wondered what it'd be like if I was the male equivalent of Samantha Jones. I'm more of a Charlotte actually. I want the partner, the house, the white picket fence, a family. All that wholesome All-American shit. One would think all those thoughts would diminish when I found out I was gay but it never really clicked in my head. I'm still a dreamer. Still looking for Mr. Right.
I thought I'd found him when I met Matt. Fan fucking tastic Matt. Matthew Taylor. Matthew Andrew Taylor to be exact. I guess in hindsight, I knew it wouldn't work out. We didn't have anything in common but it was the first relationship for both of us and we both tried so hard to make it work. And well, that just didn't happen. And so Matt was history, I was alone, and it seemed like everyone else I knew was out there getting laid.
Now mind you, getting laid was not at the top of my priorities list. I swear. Don't get me wrong. I was as horny as ever. But sex has and I hope never will be first on my list. I've always been that way. Pathetic? Some think so. But I don't see it that way. I love sex, I really, really do. But it's the cuddling, the kissing, the being together that I long for, that at times I literally ache for.
Alright I'll stop making this sound like a Lifetime movie.
Where the fuck am I anyway?
"S'cuse me."
Oh out looking for the man of my dreams. How could I forget?
"S'cuse me."
Alright what's with the abbreviation? Just fucking say excuse me and get it over with.
I turned around and there he was. Now I'm sure you already know all those sappy cliches. He was so gorgeous I almost melted. It was love at first sight. I almost creamed my pants. Well get ready for some more. Standing in front of me was the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my life. Gorgeous black hair, a body that some would kill for and eyes. God those eyes. They were the clinchers. Blue as the sky. Okay, so I'll never be a poet. I composed myself and tried to speak.
"Um... What can I do for you?"
Please say fuck my brains out. Please, please, please.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Okay now I was confused. "I'm fine, why?"
"Well you were kinda talking to yourself." He seemed so concerned, so heartfelt. I wanted to lay my head on his chest and never move it. I wanted to kiss those... wait a minute I was talking to myself?
"What?" I asked, more irritated than I wanted to be.
"Well you were talking about how..." he smiled sheepishly "... getting laid wasn't at the top of your priorities list." At that, his face turned a darker shade of red.
Dear God, if you are out there, please just kill me now. Painful, not painful - I don't fucking care. Please just put me out of my fucking misery. Okay, handle it smoothly. Maybe he doesn't think you're a total nutcase.
"I do that sometimes. Well think out loud that is... not talk about um... you know... um... getting..." He's gonna run. He's gonna run far away and then he'll tell his friends that he met this psycho who talks to himself on the streets of New York City. And they'll all laugh. And you'll be alone for the rest of your...
"Me too." He smiled. God you are out there. "I thought maybe I was the only one." He laughed. Not a guffaw. Just a really soft laugh. God either I'm in love or I'm delusional.
"I'm David." I held out my hand. "David Stanton."
"Sam Warren." He touched his hand to mine. Can you say electric shock? "It's nice to meet you." And then I realized something.
"You're voice." God could I be any lamer?
He looked hurt. "Oh yeah. My dad said it sounds like I never hit puberty. He always thought it was so funny. He..." I had to stop him. He thought I was making fun of him and that was the last thing I was doing.
"No, no. I just meant your accent. You're not from New York are you?"
He laughed. Thank God. "Oh. No I'm not from New York. I just moved here. Actually yesterday. I'm from Tennessee." He looked around and gestured dramatically. "A country boy in the city if you will."
For some reason I thought that was hysterical and I couldn't stop laughing. Matt used to tell me I had an infectious laugh. He told me that no matter what kind of mood he was in, when he heard it, he would laugh along too. Its weird but my laugh encompasses different sounds, different decibels. Its goes up and down, up and down. I know that sounds like the most ridiculous explanation in the world but if you heard me laugh, you'd understand. Anyway, he must have found my little hyena outburst amusing because he was laughing just as hard and tears were rolling down his cheeks.
"God I'm sorry." I said suddenly self conscious of the stares we were getting.
"What for?" he asked, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I haven't laughed that hard in years. I needed that laugh. Thank you."
That perked me up. "Hey, no problem." At that, we both stood there awkwardly. I knew what I wanted but then again I don't exactly have the best gaydar in the world.
"So where you headed?" I asked resuming the lameness I had displayed so wonderfully just minutes before.
He grinned and ducked his head and then looked back up at me, his eyes glowing. "Ya wanna know the truth? I have no fucking idea. My apartment is on East 23rd Street and I have no clue how to get back there."
"East 23rd? How the hell did you wind up over here?" I asked amused by his utter lack of care for where he was or how he was going to get back.
He smiled again. An innocent one. A smile that melted my heart. "It's my birthday and I was looking to well... celebrate." Suddenly he looked nervous. "This being New York and all, I figured it wouldn't be hard to find well... you know..." Suddenly he looked like the most vulnerable guy in the world. "Anyway I guess it's not exactly as easy the magazines and guidebooks say." He looked down at his feet. "Plus I'm kinda new at this whole scene. Being from Sevierville, that's where I'm from, well they don't take too well to gays." He looked up at me hopefully. "Am I making any sense at all?"
I was choked up and I knew if I tried to talk I'd start sobbing and that's the last thing I wanted to happen. I simply smiled.
"So anyway. That's how I wound up here." Alright it was my turn to make my move and I needed to do it soon.
"Wait. Did you say it was your birthday? You can't spend your birthday alone." Which, of course, was my poor excuse for saying I want to spend the rest of my living days with you. "I mean why spend it alone. Come on, I'll show you the real New York. We'll paint the town red... well maybe pink." We both laughed. So now if there was any doubt in his mind whether or not I was gay, it would be gone.
"You'd do that for me?" he asked so hesitantly.
How could this guy doubt himself so much? Hell I'd dress up in a neon orange nightie and sing showtunes if he asked me to. Okay bad analogy.
"It'd be my pleasure. Where would you like to go? We could go anywhere you want." And I meant it. I was falling head over heels in love with a man I knew for not even ten minutes. How fucked up was that? But the even more fucked up part was that it didn't bother me in the least. I so wanted this. Or should I say soooo wanted this.
"Actually, you know what I really want?" he asked.
A husband. Please say a husband. I nodded excitedly.
"Chinese food." he replied. Well it was a start. "I know I sound like a freak or something but I always heard about Chinatown and I always wanted to go there and try some food. God I sound like a hick don't I?"
"No. You sound like a brand new New Yorker who is excited to be here and wants to sample all that the city has to offer." I told him. And it was true. I didn't exactly know what it was like to be the new kid in town. I lived here all my life. But I also knew that even living and growing up here for 24 years, I still found something new, something exciting every day. "You want Chinese food. Then Chinese food you will have."
Chinatown is a fun place. Not exactly exciting. But fun. We were sitting in a booth across from each other in one of the best Chinese restaurants I'd ever eaten at. I discovered it awhile back. It's dingy and dirty on the outside and the interior isn't really that much more appealing but the food is to die for and the service is absolutely wonderful.
"You know I have no fucking clue what to order." He smiled at me while scanning the menu. "What exactly is moo shoo pork?" he asked getting nervous again.
"Nah. You don't want that. You're here, you're gonna get something exotic." Just then the waiter brought our drinks to the table. I decided we were ready. "We'll have the House Special for two." I turned to Sam. "You like spicy?" He nodded. "Make it extra spicy."
The waiter took our menus and left. I picked up my drink and motioned him to do the same. "To the farm boy on his birthday. May it be happy and healthy and loads of fun." He smiled. Then I said more seriously, "Here's hoping for a friendship." I wanted to add "and so much more" but I thought that was pushing it. There was time for that later. We clinked glasses and started in a dinner that was absolutely delicious. The company looked pretty damn delicious too. We talked about nothing in particular. I think we were both just enjoying the company. The food came and we polished off most of it.
"So what do you do?" He was smiling again, as he nibbled on a piece of shrimp.
"I'm a teacher. High school teacher actually." God did he have to lick his lips like that. "I went there and then when I graduated from college, they were looking for an English teacher, and I got the job. The pay is shit, the hours are shit but I get the summer off and the kids seem to like me."
"Why wouldn't they?" Alright now I know he's flirting. I mean it's not just me right? God I wanted to ravish him right on this table. Lick his body from neck to...
"Hey you wanna see my apartment?" he asked suddenly out of the blue. I guess he saw the change in my facial expression because he quickly added, "You could come for coffee and desert. After all you did make my birthday special." Wait a minute he was trying to convince me to go. "Plus you'd be my first guest. It's a little messy but my mother sent me up with these great peanut butter brownies. Her special recipe and you'll probably like em... and well we could talk... and..."
I needed to stop the babbling. Not that I didn't like it. In fact I thought it was adorable. To go a step farther it kinda turned me on. And in my state I didn't need any more turn on. I leaned across the table and trying my best not to laugh at his surprised expression, kissed him lightly on the lips. Not a dueling tongues sort of thing, not a lust sort of thing. Just a soft, gentle kiss. Or should I say a soft, gentle, passionate kiss.
"You kissed me." He stated it so matter of factly. More to himself than out loud.
I laughed. "Glad you noticed." Then I got worried. "I didn't freak you out or anything right?"
"Do it again." he commanded smiling evilly.
And this time when I did it, he responded and reciprocated. Lord could this boy kiss. There was some tongue action this time too. I painstakingly broke the kiss when I heard a soft cough come from our waiter. I expected a cold stare or a snicker but instead he was standing there smiling broadly.
"Could we just get the check please?" I asked as calmly as I could. He nodded and left to retrieve it.
I looked at him. "Look I'm just going to say this and get it out of the way. I know it'll sound stupid and cliched and it's probably going to scare the shit out of you but I'm going to say it anyway. I am..." I took a drink of water. "I'm falling in love with you. I can't explain it. I can't make sense of it and on some levels, honestly, I don't want to." He went to open his mouth but I stopped him. "Please just let me finish. I haven't known you for more than what? Three hours? And yet you are able to get to me. To reach my insides like no one has ever been able to do before. You're gorgeous. You're smart. You're sexy. And I want you... I want you to be mine. Oh God I didn't just say that did I? Look..."
He finally shut me up. "It's my turn." The waiter came back and placed the bill on the table telling us we could pay whenever we were ready. We both sat there for what seemed like hours. Me wondering what in God's name he was thinking and him probably thinking of how he could make an escape.
And then he spoke up. His voice sounded hollow and devoid of any emotion.
"I had a boyfriend back home. His name was Kenny. We grew up together. Went to the same schools. We were best friends." He stopped and smiled. "I've never told anyone this story before. He kissed me one day, just like you did, out of the blue. We never did anything sexual." He blushed. "Just fooled around a little. One night we were out in the field playing around. We were making out and we heard a rustle in the bushes. I didn't think anything of it. That's the night he told me he loved me. I went home on cloud nine that night." He stopped and stared into space for a few seconds. When he looked back at me, his face displayed a whole new set of emotions. There were tears in his eyes, and to my surprise, tears in mine.
He continued. "His father was the one in the bushes that night. He beat him to death when he got home that night. He took a bat and he beat his son, his own flesh and blood, to death. How does a man do that to his own son?" He looked so sad, so grief stricken. What did I do to this poor guy?
"I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to..." I started but he interrupted me.
"I love you too." Those words shook me to the core. "Pay the bill and come home with me and make love to me and show me that there is some good left in this world. Show me you love me. Make me yours. Please."
His hands were shaking as he tried to put the key in the lock. On our way back to his place, we didn't say much in the cab. But he held me like I was going to run away. Every once in a while I'd kiss the top of his head.
He placed the key in the door and opened it and then stopped. He turned around to look at me and spoke. "I just want you to know I didn't tell you what I did because I wanted you to pity me. I just told you because I trusted you and I just... I needed to tell someone." He paused. "When you told me you loved me, you dispensed all my fears about moving here. All my worries about spending the rest of my life alone were gone." He moved closer to me and brushed his lips against mine. "I love you."
"I love you too." I knew there was so much more to say and so much more to ask but there was a time and place for that. I loved him. He loved me. It was as simple as that.
He smiled. "Let's go inside."
"Two doors down they're laughing and drinking and having a party
Two doors down they're not aware that I'm around
Cause here I am no longer cryin' and feelin' sorry
We're having our own party two doors down"
I hope you enjoyed it. Part II will follow shortly. Comments and suggestions (and complaints) are welcome and appreciated.