The door clicked shut, silencing the clamor of everyone's goodbyes and I dropped into the chair next to the door in the entryway; the tears finally spilling after hours of constant refusal to allow their fall. I leaned my head back against the wall and, alone in the silence, wept for the first time since the funeral. I had watched the surprise evening unfold knowing that this would be the inevitable outcome. And now so much pain coursed through my heart that I thought it was again being ripped out of my chest and pummeled with a mallet.
I knew today would be rough; there was no getting around it. It was Michael's 42nd birthday, or would have been if it wasn't for that asshole who liked so much to drink and drive. I wasn't oblivious to the day and what it meant, but I also wasn't paying close enough attention when Joshua had mentioned he'd be stopping by to drop off the couple books we'd talked about during dinner at Decisions last week. So when he showed up around five in his usual flustered state and demanding a cocktail because the clerk at Neiman's had been so mean, I laughed in spite of myself. I didn't want company that day, but Josh was the kind of best friend that insists on attention. The alternative to bringing up Michael's birthday and trying to explain my desire for continuing solitude was to make him a large Cosmopolitan and hope his tirade would be short lived. Boy was I wrong, but like I said, I wasn't paying much attention.
Joshua downed the martini and held his glass up with a plaintive look on his face. "You wouldn't deprive me from finding solace from that `oh, I'm so hot and I know it' bitch at Neiman's now would you?" His eyes and mouth pouted in his best poor me face.
"Honey, you just need to let it go. Why do you keep going back there and setting yourself up for rejection? You know he's full of "A Gay" attitude and even though you could buy a hundred guys like him or better, he'll never let you in. Another martini is only going to wind you up further."
I had to at least try to get him thinking of the door.
His eyes narrowed at my comment and the pout disappeared, replaced with his best perturbed look. "You're being a bitch. If you want me to leave, just say so."
I sighed. I guess I was acting a little put out, but I knew Joshua and I knew he would not settle for just one Cosmo. Knowing that fact though didn't help me get to my feet any faster. I wanted him to leave, thus leaving me alone. If I made him another drink then my day to myself would be lost. Sure there would always be tomorrow to be alone and the day after to be alone, but today . . . I was entitled to be alone, wasn't I?
"You know what Marcus?" he started, his chest puffing out slightly as his neck tilted his head forward, the slight movement causing me to sigh inwardly. "You're turning more and more into Michael. He was the one that always hated drop-ins. I knew it all along, even though he would laugh and smile and pretend interest. And now you're getting just as bad!"
His words shocked me, no they pissed me off! How dare he? On today of all days! Then I realized that he didn't know what significance today held and my bluster dissipated almost before it started. "Alright, you win Bitch. Give me your glass," I said, a puckered smile letting him know I wasn't really pissed at him. "But this is the last one. Ok? I have things to do and I don't really feel like people today."
"Sure, the last one until everyone gets here."
What? No one else was coming over, I'd even forgotten about Josh stopping over. This was my day alone!
"What do you mean `everyone else'?"
The door bell rang. I shot daggers towards Joshua as he sat there with smug, self-contented innocence covering his face.
And so there you have it. Six of "our" friends dropped by, all seemingly unexpectedly and uttering comments like "Oh, I was just thinking of you" and "I was in the neighborhood". Joshua appeared very pleased with himself and the rest of the friends were able to assuage their own feelings of loss by `coming to my aide' on this special day. No one seemed to give much of a shit about what I wanted. The all knew best, just ask them. But now the door was closed and the tears had come and gone. I sat still, in the entryway, listening to the silence that was now my intimate companion.
November chilled into December and the months of winter rolled by without me taking much notice. For the first time in over 10 years I did not join the gang at the Outboard gay skiing event the mega-millionaire Tim Gill puts on every year at Copper Mountain. Nor did I attend the HRC gala event or pretty much anything else that Michael and I used to attend. I even declined the gang's annual jaunt to Oklahoma City for a costume Halloween Party at our friends. But I didn't miss any of it. My time was spent working on my kitchen remodel project. I'd started it the weekend after the funeral. Everyone thought it would be great therapy for me. Isn't that precious.
I'd started it so soon following the funeral so as to have a reason for declining invitations and keeping people away. You can't be expected to be a proper host without a kitchen. It worked for the most part. Of course, Joshua always stopped by and so did Giancarlo, but the rest took the hint and allowed me my hideaway.
The time spent on the remodel did in fact have a therapeutic effect on me. My skills at working with drywall, granite and cabinetry along with basic electric, plumbing and gas line re-working had improved greatly. For the first time I could take whatever time I needed to apply precision and focus on the effort at hand. Michael hated the projects I started and drug my feet to finish. He was right though, there `d been many, many projects over the 10 years we'd spent in our Victorian and some of them did drag on. Sure, he'd been exasperated with my progress and he made me swear that when we considered the kitchen that we would contract it out. I was all for it at the time. Shoot, having some studs working in the house wouldn't be all bad.
My time most nights during the week and definitely on the weekends was consumed by the kitchen. I was in no hurry and I found a sense of accomplishment in my slow but steady progress. Once finished each evening I would end up at the computer, searching for a story on Nifty to jack off to and satisfy that aspect of my life. To attempt a real live, person to person, encounter was completely off the script. Even when the hot guy at Homo Depot -- our nickname for the home remodel giant -- made it clear to me that he was more than interested in checking out my progress in person, I declined. He was definitely a hottie, but I knew, as always, once we'd get started my erection would not keep pace with my desires no matter how hot the guy was.
That was my little shame, my little secret. I had no problem getting and staying hard while reading a hot story on the internet, but once there was a live player involved . . . sigh.
Neither Joshua nor my other friend, Giancarlo, knew about my impotence. Michael and I were both in our early 40s and I've heard some guys just lose interest. I figured that was it. Josh and Carlo knew that Michael and I didn't have much sex, but I think they thought it was because we didn't want it anymore. And in some ways that might have been true. For years we had each taken care of ourselves, Michael through his porn videos and me through erotic stories on the net. Trust me, he had quite a fine collection of porn and the internet offers almost limitless variations on a theme! After a long enough period of time I think we literally forgot how to romance each other, how to share looks and intent and desire between the two of us. And believe me when I say Michael still, after 20 years, had a fairly good body and his cock was every bit as big and impressive as it was when he'd made me realize that being on top all of the time wasn't as important, nor as pleasurable, as I had seemed to think it was when I was 20. Add into all of that over the 20 years we'd spent together I had amassed a significant amount of extra weight thanks to many reasons and I found myself with mental desires for men, but no real belief in my ability to appear attractive and desirable to other men that attracted me, including Michael. The result? Impotence. I had all the desire in the world, but when it came to show time my equipment became nice and soft and cuddly. Just like my body. Shit.
My cock is more than decent and I have a great hairy chest, but I'd let the rest of my body go. During the year previous to Michael's sudden and permanent departure, I'd spent considerable time at the gym seeing if I could get my body working again. Some of the weight had dropped off, but the rest was staying firmly attached. After Michael died I continued going to the gym religiously. It was part of my routine . . . work, gym, home to do a little more on the kitchen, then pound the meat until it gave up its juice. Then sleep and start the day over again. As I said before, my satisfaction in life came from working on the kitchen. I did not need anything or anyone else.
Giancarlo and Joshua thought differently.
Early May sunshine streaming through the window drew me outside. Michael's gardens had been waking up from their winter's sleep for the past month.
Michael's gardens.
I had always referred to them as such. Friends would laugh at me as I talked to them about the plants. I always called a plant Dogwood if I couldn't remember its real name. Michael would roll his eyes and shake his head. His point was valid. Between the two houses we'd owned, we'd been surrounded by his gardens for over 15 years. One would think I could remember the damn names.
I had promised myself as I walked through the yards last August, silent tears on my cheeks after the service, that I would not lose a single plant. Inside or outside. So far I had lost only two out of literally hundreds. But they were ugly anyway. Not too bad in my book, I reasoned. I could clearly hear Michael chastising me and I chuckled.
When we met and he moved into my apartment I had two plants. One was a philodendron and the other could have been a dogwood. Who knows. Anyway, the philodendron had tiny leaves and was withering more each day. I had held a private funeral service for the dogwood. Its burial plot was the window ledge in the pantry behind the closed mini- blinds. Out of sight, out of guilt! The look on Michael's face when he found the dogwood's final resting place was priceless; true shock and horror along with stark incredulity.
"Marc!" I went running for the kitchen sure I had committed some cardinal sin that would rock our month-old relationship. That shrill tone in anyone's voice activated my ex-catholic fear response. I was only 22 at the time and had quit the church only four years earlier so the ingrained response was still alive and potent.
Michael stood in the doorway of the pantry at the end of our little galley kitchen. In his hands was the dead dogwood. His mouth was open in a frozen gasp, eyes wide, brows raised high.
"What?"
"I just found this plant behind the mini-blinds!"
"Uh-huh. It's dead."
"No it's not! Look!" He showed me two microscopic green leaves at the base of one of the multitudes of dead stalks.
"Michael, it's dead. Trust me. I haven't watered it in at least three months."
He looked at me with scorn and disgust.
"What were you doing looking behind the mini-blinds anyway?"
"I was cleaning."
"Behind the mini-blinds? Why?" It was my turn to be incredulous.
"Because this kitchen is filthy, that's why." I looked around at the kitchen and kind of shrugged. It looked pretty clean to me.
Michael had placed the dogwood into the sink and was flooding the pot with water from the tap. Then he pulled off some of the dead leaves leaving a pot full of twigs and two tiny green rays of hope.
About a month later I came in from work and noticed there were five or six plants sitting in the various window sills. Gosh, they looked pretty; so green and warm looking.
"You got some new plants today, huh? They look great!"
"No," with a minor shake of his head and a questioning sideways look at me. "No new plants. Those . . ." with a wave of his hand toward the plants in the living room, "are the ones I brought from my place."
"Huh." I was confused. "I meant these. Where'd these come from?"
He looked at the two plants I was pointing to above the dining nook table.
"Marcus," great exasperation plainly conveyed. "Those are your plants."
I just stared at him open-mouthed and then at the plants. It was nothing short of a miracle. The philodendron's leaves were the size of pears and the dogwood - truly now Lazarus reborn - was full of translucent red- veined leaves covering all of the previously dead stalks. I actually recognized the plant again. My mother had sent it with me when I moved to Denver three years earlier. She called it a Henry Kissinger plant because it was a Wandering Jew.
I knew my life would never again be the same. To think, I would actually have live, growing, pretty things in my house all because of my man!
I was in heaven.
Three hours later, the last of the garden beds had been fully cleaned from the winter debris and I had clipped any of the dead I could see on the perennials. I just hoped that I was supposed to do this. I'd watched Michael do it year after year, yet never joined in. It was his job, his passion. And he loved doing it. But now I was more than a little uncertain. I figured I would know soon enough if it was a good thing or not.
The previous weekend had been spent de-winterizing the sprinkler system. Now this was familiar territory. This was my job. I'd installed it two years before including a drip system for all of the potted annuals we put in each summer. Each of the beds, eight in all, had their own or a shared zone including the four urns outside of the wrought iron on the recessed sidewalk out front. The focus needed to make sure that all of the plants received enough water had actually prepared me for the chore of tending to the plants now that Michael was gone. I at least knew where all of the plants were.
To some, that may be a weird statement - knowing where all of the plants are located. But you have to understand something. It was an innate tenet of my personality to see plants and roses and shrubs, etcetera, as "pretties" to be enjoyed and used as such. Roses were to be cut and arranged, bedding plants were meant to be in bloom or else why have them. The gardens to me were part of the decoration and something to get oohs and ahhs from by visiting friends and neighbors. Just like a nicely set dining table, a gourmet meal, a fine pinot noir or a Ratliff painting is meant to give satisfaction. Gratification comes in many forms. Michael received gratification from the maintenance and growth and burgeoning splendor of the plants in his gardens. Sure he wanted them to look nice, but without a second thought or pause, he would cut back a plant in full bloom in order to make it bloom bigger and fuller. That, to me, made no sense! I did, over the years, grow used to it and refrained from allowing my heart beat to race. See, for me it wasn't the plant I was worried about, but rather the "pretty" it provided my senses. I had so much to learn now that the gardens were my sole responsibility.
Hot and sweaty and lost in thought as I tied up the Dogwood vine on the north fence, I did not hear the front gate open.
"Hey stud man, looking mighty hot there."
I screamed. The ball of twine went flying over the fence and I spun around to seen Giancarlo throw his hands up and yell. "What's the matter!" his slight accent, now instantly thicker, was fully affected by his surprise at my shout.
"Fuck you Carlo!" My heart pounded. Then the suffusing blush of embarrassment set in and I started giggling uncontrollably. Giancarlo joined in almost without volition. Thankfully, our giggles died out quickly.
"You, boy, are such a pinchy mess! Why are you screaming like a little girl?"
"You know not to sneak up on me. Everybody knows that. Michael had scars as testimony to his slow learning abilities in this regard. And my sister's nose will never again be the same. Shit Carlo." My laughter had died, leaving me with the perpetual grin as the memory of my hysterics flashed again before my eyes.
"Honey, you need a cocktail! Man!"
Laughing, I agreed. It was time to stop for the day. I hugged Carlo and gave him a big squeeze.
"Bitch! You're all sweaty and this is my DKNY best white!" I rubbed my body against his again for effect and let him go.
"You think just because you've hunked up over the winter and now have this hot body to show off without a shirt that you can smear your stinky sweat all over me? Do it again!" Indignation lost in his laughter.
"Hunked up? What are you talking about," I said as we headed for the patio and some needed reprieve from the sun. He followed me inside and grabbed two tumblers that we frequently used for gin and tonics. The house was refreshingly cool with the help from the swamp cooler. The sweat on my skin chilled instantly causing my nipples to harden and lengthen.
"What do you mean `what am I talking about'. You've lost even more weight than when I saw you at Roxey's two weeks ago. And honey, your biceps and chest are really cutting well." He reached up and pulled my nipple, causing me to flinch back. "And damn, your nips are so big now. What are you doing to them?"
I ignored his question and chuckled as I turned to the bar. "You just leave my tits alone Bitch."
"Or has someone else been working on them for you?" He broke in, leering at me with his mocha eyes and long lashes.
I sighed. "You know there's been no one else. I'm doing just fine by myself."
Carlo snorted but said nothing. Handing him a drink we moved back to the deck off the dining room and lowered ourselves into the chairs. Much more comfortable, I thought, now that the new cushions that Michael's sister made for me last month were in place. I heard Michael chide me for sitting on the off-white cushions shirtless and sweaty.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I mumbled, not thinking Carlo would notice.
"Stop talking to him Marc. It gives me the creeps!"
"Whatever."
I took a long draw from my cocktail. Ahh! It tasted great!
"Thanks for stopping by. I really needed to say I was done for the day, but I kept moving to another area. Man, there's so fucking much crap to do!"
" Well the yards are looking good. Miss Thing is gonna be pissed that he lost the bet!"
"Bet? What, did he think I'd let it all die?"
"Yep."
"What was the bet?"
"A blowjob"
"Bull shit. That's gross. He's your sister!" I laughed then shuddered.
"Eeew! That is a gross thought! Not from him, from that Rent-A-Stud we told you about that we watched in action last winter in Aspen."
"No way! Really?"
"Way! And I'm gonna collect on it!"
"What was the bet?"
"That Michael's gardens would be dead and weed-filled by the 4th for your annual party. Joshua was certain of this. I said that you'd never let it happen. Loser has to pay for an hour with the Stud."
Instead of pissing me off like I thought it would, it made me laugh. I guess I'm not as predictable as everyone thinks. And Carlo was right; Josh was going to be real pissed.
"Well, you're welcome. Glad to be of help!" His smile matched my own as we shared the joy of tweaking Joshua's normal smugness at always needing to win, to be right.
"He's meeting me here anytime now so he's gonna see that it's time to call his accountant!"
"Don't you guys ever think of using the phone? What if I wasn't here?"
"Honey, you're always here."
Hmm. Yeah, well . . .
"Why are you meeting here? Where are you going after here?"
"No where. We're meeting here to . . . never mind. Just wait till he gets here."
Fuckers. Now what? It wasn't Michael's birthday or deathday and they all actually missed our anniversary 10 days ago, thank the gods! I guess it didn't really matter. I hadn't seen either of them for a couple of weeks. Roxey, our great friend from our circle, had the gang over to her place two weeks ago to officially open her balcony for the season. It was good to see everyone, but I didn't much feel like staying and left after a short while, much to everyone's protest.
I took another long draught of my gin. At least it was Saturday and I would have time to recover from whatever they had planned before work on Monday.
The shout from inside the house caused my eyes to roll and me to shake my head.
"Cunts! You bitches could have at least waited for me!"
Joshua.
"And where's my cocktail? My blood-alcohol levels have fallen drastically. I'm starting to tremble, but then that's probably because of the shirtless god that just ran by your house, all nice and sweaty. His ass was like marble!!!" Joshua skittered out onto the patio and dropped into the Adirondack lounger opposite Carlo and me.
"Damn Girl, you're looking pretty godly yourself, sitting there with no shirt and all pumped up."
Giancarlo chuckled and I shook my head. "What do you want to drink Joshey? Gin, Vodka, a Cosmo?"
"Don't call me Joshey! You know I'll hurt you. And no, not a Cosmo. It's 80 fucking degrees out here. Damn Marcus, you are so out of practice at hosting! Fix me a Long Island Iced Tea. Please. Thanks."
I rose grabbing both my glass and Carlo's and turned to the door when I heard Joshua wolf whistle at me. I ignored him as I usually do then heard his whispered comment to Carlo.
"Damn! Our sister is studdin' out on us."
"Yeah, and he doesn't even realize it." Carlo returned in a hiss.
I continued to the bar and wondered what they were talking about. I set the glasses down and went into the bathroom to check the mirror. Hmm, I guess I am a little thinner. I hadn't paid much attention over the past while. And my pecs and arms were a little more defined. Well . . . I guess they're not tits anymore.
With a satisfied smile I returned to the deck with the drinks and sat down, propping my feet on the center low table. "So Joshey, what do you think of the gardens? They're not too bad for a faggot, eh?"
Giancarlo sputtered in his drink and sprayed the gin across the deck. His laughter matched my shit-eating grin. Joshua looked at us and said, "You're both cunts! You know that don't you? Smelly, sloppy cunts!" He gulped a big swallow of the tea and tilted his chin in a self-righteous action.
"Yeah, so. The gardens look just fine. There, are you happy now?"
"Oh don't be mad Joshey" Carlo jeered while Joshua glared; eyes narrowed and fixed on Carlo. "Look at it this way, the gardens get to live another day, I get to fuck the Rent-a-Stud for nothing, and you won't even miss the $200 bucks it'll cost you. You've got more money than a bank! Everybody wins."
"I suppose." Joshua's lips pursed then broadened into a grin. "There were more people siding with me on the bet than with Carlita. In fact, only Stefan was on your side with Ms. Giancarlo. He said he was certain that the gardens and houseplants would not only survive, but flourish; typical German certainty. I concede. I'm gladly proven wrong."
I laughed, head back and howling. "You mean everyone was in on this bet? And they all thought I would play the Grim Plant Reaper? What a gas! I'll have to thank Stefan for his support."
"Well you can thank him in person. They want to fly in for your garden party. When is it, by the way?."
"Really? That's great! Wow, Stefan hates to fly! But I'm not having a party this year."
"What?" blasted Carlo. "You always have the party. C'mon Marcus, enough's enough!"
"What's that supposed to mean . . . enough of what?" I bristled at his words. I knew what he meant, but suddenly I didn't feel like letting it go. I was suddenly so sick of listening to all of them pussy foot around, hinting that its time to move on and that Michael's not coming back. Enough! I know that better than any of them.
"Living your fucking monk, widow life. That's what I mean honey and you know it."
Joshua sat quietly watching us. The hairs on the back of my neck raised.
"You know how much I love you Marcus but you aren't moving on. Admit it so we can move to the next subject."
"And that would be what exactly? Arranging for me to get fucked by the hooker? Setting me up with those inane and probably horrid blind dates you tried last winter? I'm doing just fine goddamnit, so just stop mothering me. It hasn't even been a year for fuck's sake and you two think I should just be out there fuckin' around or better yet, making plans to marry some faggot or another. Who would even fuckin' want me? Huh? It's not like I have anything at all to offer someone. Christ! Just drop it would you?"
My anger, irrational as it may have been, blew my response way out of proportion, but at that point I could have cared less.
In a barely contained voice, Carlo responded under his breath, "Well I'm glad we decided today to do this. It's long overdue."
God! Their secrets and plotting were wearing thin! "Do what for fuck's sake? Huh?"
Both of my friends sat quiet for a moment and caught each other's eyes. Carlo gave a slight nod to Joshua then looked at me. When Joshua spoke, his words were soft yet forceful.
"We came here today to do an intervention with you."
I looked at him with shock and disbelief. I went to tell them to fuck off, but Joshua held up his hand, stopping me.
"You just keep your curses to yourself for the time being Ms. Faggot. We are your absolute best friends and right now you sure as hell are going to listen to what we have to say. If when we're finished you want to tell us to fuck off and die, then we will, but not before we have our say. Now," he took a final swallow from his near empty glass. "we all need a refill. Carly, would you please?" Giancarlo rose, grabbed our empty glasses and headed into the house.
I was seething and just glared at Joshua, teeth clenched and giving him my most menacing stare. "You guys are so fucked up. I believe interventions," I spat the word, "are supposed to be alcohol and substance free?"
"Don't be so cuntish, Honey. You know we're all alcoholics. Well, you used to be and need to be again." His lips puckered briefly in his `I'm so funny' grin. "Let's just wait for Madam Giancarlo, ok?"
"Fine. It's your pony show."
We continued to stare at each other as he lit a cigarette, offering me one. I declined. "Grab me an ashtray. Please. Thanks!" Carlo gave a grunt in response.
Once we were again settled with full glasses in hand, Joshua began.
"Honey, you don't go out, you never leave the house except for work, the gym and Homo Depot. Everyone is worried! Roxey was so hurt last week when you left not even an hour after you arrived. You won't join us for drinks at J.R.'s, my friend at the gym you work out in says you never talk to anyone anymore, you have to be drug out kicking and screaming just for dinner at Decisions . . . and by the way, they all are asking about you." I rolled my eyes thinking of the flapping queens that worked at the gay restaurant we frequented.
"Don't roll those baby blues at me. You've closed yourself off from everyone but Carly and I and that's only because we refuse to let you. You're my best friend, my intimate in all things except sex and I miss you horribly. It's like you died along with Mikey. I feel like I've lost my best friend. And I don't mean Mike. I miss him too. I've never known a happier spirit than Michael. Carlo feels the same. We all do. And we all agreed that we wouldn't descend on you in mass and talk about this. You made it all too plain to us, after the fact, when we showed up for Michael's birthday, that you thought it was boorish and insufferable to be treated like an invalid. Well, we love you but you are an invalid. You're like a patient in a mental ward lock up because you won't move on even after the doctor has given you your release."
He paused in his diatribe and sucked down a pull on the cigarette. Exhaling, he sipped from his glass and looked at Carlo. Tag, your turn, I thought.
"Honey, it's not just the things Josh has said, it's your health too. I know you've been at the gym religiously, but I've looked in your cupboards, they're bare. You get along with just the bare amount of food you need to get by. You haven't cooked us one of your fabulous dinners since he died. And you've told me about your headaches . . . honey, you need to eat more and you need to eat better things. And you need to get laid big time!" His last point was made with a shake of his pointer finger in my face.
I sniffed then smirked at him. "And how would you know that mister know-it-all? I take care of myself just fine. I've fucked five guys last winter, so there, you don't know shit!" That was a lie, but I didn't care.
"Bullshit! You fucking liar!" That pissed him off. "You haven't been with anyone since Michael died over nine months ago. Except maybe on the internet. That's all you do, read those fucking stories and jack off to your fantasy world." He took a drink and continued, interrupting my scathing retort before it began. "Don't lie Marcus. We know you too well." Christ, I'd had enough!
"So fuckin' what if I haven't been with a guy since August. Michael and I weren't screwing either. For years!" My anger had swelled to a point that I knew I couldn't or wouldn't try to contain it. "So what if I haven't been with some other faggot! They're not missing anything! And neither am I!" I shouted. "Why the fuck would I want to go to bed with some stud when all I'd be good for is being a cumdump, huh? If I wanted to be embarrassed I can think of a lot of other things to accomplish the task. For Fuck's sake, lay off!" Tears of rage were pooling in my eyes. I couldn't see Joshua or Carlo clearly so I blinked and grabbed Josh's pack of cigarettes. Quickly lighting one, I drew a deep drag of the acrid smoke that I had given up years ago.
"What do you mean all you would be is a cumdump? Look at you! Your body is becoming better than mine; you're leaving me in the dust muscle-wise. And I know you have a great cock . . ." I jerked to look at him. "Don't look at me so shocked. Did you forget the night you and Michael had that fight and we drunkenly picked up that hottie at the Dogpound? So I know what you're packing."
"What you're obviously forgetting in that alcohol- impaired memory is that I was the one that got fucked that night by the hottie. You may have fucked him but I didn't. I couldn't, not with a limp noodle for a dick. So don't go on about what a stud I am."
They both looked at me, the realization of my words dawning on them.
"That's right. I'm impotent! And have been for close to four years. Now, are you happy? Huh? Fuck!"
The silence following my declaration was tense, uncomfortable, stifling. I crushed out the cigarette and sucked down a large gulp of gin. My head was turned away from them as my mind bitterly regretted sharing my secret, my shame with them. But I was so angry with them for pushing me so far!
"Well," began Joshua, "I think we all should just rise to the occasion and take matters into our own hands, as it were!"
That's it!
"Fuck! You!" I jumped up, throwing the lighter I'd been holding fiercely in my hand at Joshua and stomped down the steps to the lower patio. "I've had enough of this shit. Go away and leave me alone!"
"Damn it Joshua," Carlo swore. "Do you always have to be so stupid?" Carlo followed me down the steps and grabbed me in a bear hug from behind. "You're not kicking us out and we're not leaving."
I struggled against him, but my rage was spent. The final release came with moving from the chair I'd felt imprisoned in. My head swam from the nicotine as my anger turned to tears and I started crying in Carlo's arms. He simply turned me around and held me. The feeling of his strength and love surrounded me. Joshua joined us in the embrace as all my self-loathing and doubt at my impotence gushed out in stuttered gasps.
"I feel so . . . embarrassed. I feel so stunted, blocked all the time. I think about it constantly." My tears continued.
"I don't know how you feel Marcus" began Carlo, "but I do know you are being way too hard . . . uh, I mean rough on yourself. Cut yourself some slack, man."
Joshua groaned in our embrace and started chuckling. I looked up at Carlo with a beginning smile at his unawareness of his words.
"What?" Then he realized what he'd said and we all started laughing uncontrollably. We fell apart as I started gasping for breath due to the laughter. I finally raised up and thumped Carlo on the back.
"I don't think that I need anymore slack Carly!" That caused another round of hysterics and eventually made it back to our chairs.
The previous scene had been too intense for much drinking. Now, I sipped my drink, lit another cigarette, and thought about what I had to say.
"Look guys, I do hear what you're saying. I know I've been a little reclusive lately."
Carlo snorted and Joshua gave a piff. "Ok, I've become a hermit, but I'll work on it. You two coming here to quote `intervene' . . .". I sighed, not sure what I wanted to say, but went on regardless. "Well, it just means everything to me. You know how much I love you both and we make a hellofa set of queer musketeers! I promise I won't hide out any longer, ok?"
"Great! Then I'm throwing a huge party for you! It'll be your `I'm Coming Out Finally Again' party! I'll even hire the Rent-a-Stud for your exclusive enjoyment!!! He'll prime your pump, I guarantee it!"
All I could do was groan.
The week before the party was miserably hot. Temperatures soared into the nineties and I was thankful that Joshua had planned the party at his penthouse. There was tons of room and lots of air conditioning. Plus he had his second kitchen he used for parties and the like. Joshua was loaded and loved to spend it on his friends. He'd arranged for the event to be catered and had asked me to help coordinate not just the food part but also the wait staff. There were over a hundred people invited so we had planned for three wait staff from the catering company. The owner of the company would actually handle everything, so all I had to do was choose the menu. Joshua had used his services many times before so I chose the food from a menu faxed to me and spoke with the owner on the phone. He seemed pleasant enough and assured me that everything would be handled flawlessly.
The party officially started at eight the next evening. People I hadn't seen in almost a year kept telling me how good I looked. It was so bad it got to the point that I would just smile at them and give some nonsense response. After about an hour and a half and just as the party really got underway, I felt the first stirrings of wanting to be by myself surface. They were overdue.
Everyone was having a great time laughing and drinking. But I felt so alone. I'd truly worked hard in the past month at opening myself back up and acclimating myself to thinking about being around the crowd without Michael, but it was all for shit once I was actually faced with the reality. Plus this gorgeous blonde, muscled and strutting his stuff, wouldn't leaven me alone. I was flattered, but I knew I hadn't changed that much. It was the same ole story . . . all interest, but no action on the part of my dick. I wasn't going to put myself in that situation again. Don't get me wrong, I loved getting fucked and I loved anything oral, but I also wanted it in return and I just knew that the whole thing would be a disappointment.
I'd just brushed off the blonde stud for the third time when I glanced across the room and saw Giancarlo and Joshua shaking their heads. Now what? Then I spied Joshua as he appeared to direct someone across from him. It seemed he was telling someone to `go back'. My eyes followed his gesture and I saw he was signaling to the blonde hunk. The hunk kind of raised his hands in a futile gesture, then nodded briefly and turned back towards me.
It finally hit me! God! How could I have been so stupid? Those Bastards! Those fucking, old, meddlesome faggots! They'd hired the Rent-a-Stud after all, after promising me emphatically that they wouldn't. The Cunts! Well, I'd show them.
I walked up to the stud as he stared at me, obviously trying to think of another strategy to get me into the sack. I grabbed his startled face in both hands and laid a huge wet kiss on him. His eyes went wide as my tongue blasted through the entrance of his mouth and he moaned, then grabbed my ass and pulled me to him. The kiss was intense, granted, but for me it was more of an "I'll show them" thing. When I pulled back from him, he said with more that a little surprise in his previously sultry voice, "Wow! Now we're talking."
I just smirked at him and shook my head.
"No we're not. The gigs up. What's your name?"
"What? What gig?" His eyes danced, knowing that he'd been busted.
"Enough now. What's your name"
"Michael," he said, looking into my eyes. I dropped my hands from his face and shook my head in disgust.
My reaction surprised him and he grabbed my shoulder with one hand and my chin with the other, directing my gaze back to him.
"What? That's my name. Do you want it to be something else?" His response was sincere, or he was a great actor on top of being a call boy.
I shook my head once and said, "No Michael, sorry. Your name is fine. I just am not interested. So you can go anytime you want. Just charge that Bitch Joshua the full price, ok?" I tried to pull away from him, but he stopped me again.
"Look Marcus, you're a really hot guy. I don't get many chances to get with guys like you. Call it an occupational hazard." His perfect grin of sparkling white teeth and azure flecked eyes almost did me in! "Josh shared with me your little problem and I'm certain we can make everything work out just fine. I'm really very good!"
I barely saw his smile this time because I was seeing red! My cheeks flamed bright pink with embarrassment and my eyes flashed pure hatred. Michael jerked back and said, "Please stud, forget I said anything." The pleading in his words actually reached through my anger. "I just want to get it on with you. Let's get out of here." His head nodded towards the front door.
"No. Sorry. Not today." His face fell and his shoulders sagged. "Trust me, it's not you. I just need to get out of here and be alone." I glared at the pair of my best friends that were fixedly watching the scene from across the way. They quickly turned away as I returned my focus on the Rent-a-Stud. "I'm flattered, really. But I need to slug my two supposed best friends in the mouth and then I'm gone."
I touched his flawless cheek softly and turned towards the door, leaving the roar of the party behind.
Waiting at the elevator I saw Jon, the caterer, struggling with a number of boxes in his arms. Jumping forward I offered to help him carry something and his face showed sincere gratitude.
"You bet, Bud. Three events in one night has spread my staff a little thin." He allowed me to take the top box, very heavy indeed, off the stack. "Thanks! I think this elevator must be stuck or something and there was nowhere to lean the load against."
"No problem Jon. Glad I came out."
"Yeah, what are you doing? Leaving?"
"Yeah, it's past time I did. Not much used to crowds anymore. Plus I could just kill Joshua and Carlo at the moment."
"What happened? You all looked like you were having such a fun party. Hell, it's starting to really get going in there. You should go back and have fun! The party's in your honor, isn't it?"
His gray eyes searched mine as his head tilted in question. I was struck by how handsome he was. Firm jaw, nice smile, somewhat squared forehead and those eyes! Like multi-hued crystals set in a solid grey backdrop. Stunning. I could lose myself in his eyes and never find my way back out. Who'd want too!
His smile shook me from my momentary trance and I realized I hadn't answered him. Where was that elevator anyway? Just then Joshua's door opened and Michael, the Rent-a-Stud stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him. God, he was good looking! The elevator made the decision to arrive just as he turned towards us.
Jon and I stepped in and we heard Michael yell for us to hold the door. Jon managed to work a hand free and hold the open button until the blonde stud slid through the opening saying thanks. As the doors closed, Michael moved close to me as I stood holding the box against the handrail. He looked at me with a quizzical expression on his face then grinned his "grin" that I'm certain made for great tips in his line of work.
"You're serious about leaving, huh?"
"Yeah, enough's enough. Josh pay you your full fee? He better have, he's loaded and it was his own fucking fault and decision to waste the money."
Michael arched his eye at me in mock surprise.
"Not that I'm sure you're not worth every dollar, but he knew I didn't want you there."
"Well," Michael started with a small laugh, "he was a little pissed that I failed to score with you, but a deal's a deal. Full payment's on his card whether or not I could interest you. No tip, but who's complaining." Again the grin! "Are you sure you're not interested? I suddenly find myself with my evening free! No pun intended!"
We both chuckled at his comment and I glanced at Jon across the elevator. He was trying not seem like he was listening, but c'mon, he only stood three feet away. His raised eyebrows brought a further smile to my face. Then, the bell chimed for the first floor and the elevator slowed to a halt. Michael stepped out of the elevator and turned back to me, his hand preventing the door from closing.
"I'm very serious when I say I'd love a tumble with you Marc. Maybe I could call sometime and see if we could start over without all the business crap between us?" His eyes pleaded with me not to reject him. How could I? He was just a fucking god!
"Uh, yeah, uh . . . let's see what happens. Josh knows where to find me. That is if I don't kill him first."
Michael's smile stunned me yet again as he leaned in, kissed me lightly on the lips and winked. "Great! See ya soon!" Then he turned, crossed the lobby with his incredibly long legs and so very munchable ass flexing and disappeared into the night through the main door.
Jon burst into laughter as we stood there with boxes propped on the rail, his finger on the hold button. "Was that what I think it was?"
I laughed and nodded yes. We hauled our boxes through the door and headed to the service garage. "You guys sure know how to throw a party!"
Following a still chuckling Jon I couldn't help but notice his own very shapely ass jutting out beneath the white apron string wrapped around his slender, manly waist. Man! Did I ever love to gawk at a hot looking ass in motion!
We deposited the boxes next to his van and when he turned to me, smiling wide from enjoyment of what he'd just witnessed, I again was stunned by his rugged beauty. His cheek bones accented the laugh lines running out of the corner of his eyes and his smile illuminated his face. His full lips pulled tight in a knowing grin.
"I take it he was supposed to be Joshua's idea of a door prize for you tonight?"
"More like a bed prize" I grinned back at him, blushing brightly, the heat running back to my ears.
"You're blushing Marc. What a riot!"
"Yeah, this whole night has been a real crack up!
"So can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, why not. I couldn't possibly be more embarrassed than I already am."
He laugh again. "Oh don't worry about it. I can't say I'm any connoisseur when it comes to guys, but he was a pretty good look guy! Why didn't you go with him?"
My blush spread anew across my face. Like I'm gonna explain to this hunk that I can't get it up.
"Well, it just wouldn't have worked out to our mutual satisfaction Jon."
"What's that mean? I'm not the best with subtleties."
Boy, he just wasn't going to let this drop! "Uh, I have a little . . . uh, problem that would have prevented us from both enjoying the festivities." Now, that should settle it!
Jon's face suddenly darkened and his eyes darted to mine. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had AIDS. Man! I can really put my foot in it, can't I? I'm sorry!"
I almost laughed! "No, no, no. It's not AIDS. Shit! I'd be in real mess then, wouldn't I. No, I'm HIV negative and plan to stay that way."
"Well, I don't mean to pry, but I saw your desire for the guy. I'm telling you, it was on your face as plain as the ring on my finger." I quickly glanced at his hand and saw a wedding ring right there in plain sight. How could I have missed that? The guy was straight! Duh?! Fuckin' Joshua! What's he doing hiring a straight caterer? Especially one as studly and masculine as Jon?
My thoughts were interrupted by Jon's continued conversation. "So what gives Marc? Was he too good looking? Too aggressive? What? I don't spend much time experiencing you gay guys. But I have to admit from what I have seen, I love the way you don't have any hang-ups with getting it on. You like . . . fuck and find out names later."
I chuckled at his straight man reference. Fuck it, what's it matter anyway?
"Well in some ways you hit the nail on the head. But it's not just that guy, it's all guys. They all overwhelm me to a point of . . . uh . . . softness, if you will."
Jon looked at me, a perplexed expression crossing his mien. Then his face brightened and his eyes widened. Uh, oh. Here it comes, I thought.
"Oh! You're impotent!"
Slam! Fuck! Well you couldn't be anymore blunt than that.
"Bummer," he continued. "That's a bitch! And trust me, I know what you're feeling bud. Kinda stuck, blocked, huh?"
Flies could have nested in my mouth it was hanging open so wide. Was he telling me that he too was impotent? Knock me over with a feather!
"You too?" I asked incredulously. He grinned wryly and opened the rear van doors.
"Yeah, once. It happened after my wife died two years ago. This one woman was the hottest thing on two legs and I couldn't get it up to save my life or my ego. I had all the desire in the world, but it wasn't connecting with my equipment. It's worked fine since then, but in truth I haven't be much in the mood for another go for over a year now. I think the problem then was doing it with someone other than my wife. Now, there's no problem, I just decided there has to be feelings involved. Make sense?"
I nodded, handing him a box as he loaded through the open van doors. "It's been almost four years for me."
"Really? A well-built guy like you?"
"Well, I haven't but recently been this in shape. I was overweight for many years. That is part of it I think."
"Well, all I can think to say to you is hang in there. Maybe the right guy will come along and you'll know it's just right. Who knows," his eyes twinkling, appearing to hide a secret or something, "you might have even met him already!"
I laughed and said, "Damn! And I'll bet I missed him!"
We both laughed and then he went to light a cigarette and I asked him for one. I could hear my Michael tisk- tisking in my mind.
We sat on the back edge of his van, both doors open and smoked a number of cigarettes. He had a six pack of beer in a cooler so we shared a couple and talked for probably a half hour or more. Finally, Jon said he had to get back upstairs and check on everything.
"C'mon, go back and enjoy yourself. Slug Joshua tomorrow. If I know him at all, he doesn't even realize what he did was embarrassing."
"You're right about that. He's such a pig sometimes."
Later that night, I lay in my bed with my head spinning, but not because of drinking too much. Granted, I'd had my share of cocktails after returning with Jon to the party. But they weren't making my head spin, nor my heart for that matter. Rather, it was the thoughts of Jon that kept flashing before my eyes that kept me from falling asleep.
I found it hard to believe how much I'd enjoyed the time in the garage with Jon. He was truly an amazing guy! Soft spoken at times, ruggedly manly at others like when he shared with me the story of when one of his gay waiters was harassed by a couple of drunk, straight guys at an event he'd catered. The straights were calling him fag and cocksucker. He intervened, even ending up in a quick brawl with one of them. The allure found in listening to Jon share the story soared as his voice sharpened and his mannerisms seemed to butch up. He didn't have a clue as to how attractive he became then. And shortly after relating that story to me he shared about his wife's fatal aneurism with the softest of tones in his voice. I shared about Michael's death and he seemed genuinely concerned about how recent it was and said he understood my fears of letting the gardens die. He said the plants were tied to our life together and now they needed to keep me going and growing as well, to keep Michael alive in my heart. Amazing, who'd have thought a straight guy could show such depth of emotion and understanding.
Later, during the party, he kept coming over and talking to me. He was full of wit and laughter and made me truly enjoy myself even though I fought to retained my reluctance to do the same. Roxey was bowled over by Jon and his whole demeanor, looks included. She told me twice before she passed out on Joshua's couch that Jon was interested in me. And Giancarlo nodded his agreement. But I just couldn't see it. He was straight for God's sake. And had confessed earlier to wanting "feelings" with a woman before he did the deed! That just doesn't compute to a win- win situation in bed, even if I could persuade his straight- man appetites with a hard dick , which wasn't very likely on a number of points. I was exhausting myself just thinking about everything.
Finally, the events of the day and the alcohol caught up with me and I succumbed to a deep sleep.
The phone blared in my ear as I lurched awake from deep within dreamland. The sunlight was brightly pouring through my window because I'd forgotten to draw the curtain. My head pounded and I quickly grabbed the handset before it could screech again.
"Joshua, you bitch! I'm still not talking to you. How could you call so early?"
A pause answered my dry growl, then a slight, deep- throated chuckle.
"Well good morning to you too, Sunshine. At least I think it's still morning." More laughter, familiar . . . uh, shit!
"Jon?"
"Well, that's pretty quick for eleven o'clock in the morning!"
"Eleven! How'd that happened?"
"You're asking me? I've been up since seven. You must have tied one on last night after we packed up and left." His chuckle sent a churning through my stomach. Or it was all the gin I'd drank the night before!
I yawned loudly, unable to stop myself. My body was trying to wake up fully. Not that my heart hadn't jumped started when I realized Jon was on the other end of the line.
"What's up Jon? What's going on?" How'd you get my number was the real question I wanted to ask, followed closely by and why are you calling me?
"I know this is pretty weird sounding, but I wanted to see if you'd have a late breakfast or early lunch with me?" His voice clear and solid and sounding as wonderful as I remembered it from last night.
"Uh, sure!" Oh my God! What is this all about?
"Oh Great! You said you lived over by City Park, right? Why don't we meet at Pete's Kitchen then? Would that work?"
"Yeah, sure, uh . . . I need a little time," I yawned loudly again. "Sorry, I need some time to pull myself together. When were you thinking?"
"How about a half hour?" My eyes glanced at the clock next to the bed.
"11:30?"
"See ya then. And don't worry about how you look. I can't imagine you looking bad anytime." And he hung up.
What the Fuck was that?! My heart was pounding like a newbe faggot getting ready to give his first blow job. My head plopped back again the pillow and I exhaled in a rush. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath!
Get a grip Marcus! You're way too old of a faggot to be gushing like this! Then I lunged out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Let's hope I can pull myself together in record time like the old days!
The line to get into Pete's wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'd gotten there in less than 25 minutes and just been seated when I saw Jon through the windows begin to cross Colfax from the north. His stride was strong, sure, and his face had an amazing grin, contented and relaxed. He really was a wet dream walking!
As he approached the window he saw me at the table and gave a quick wave followed by an eager, dazzling smile. Then he was approaching the table. His navy shorts accented the muscular, hairy legs as he strode towards me. His white, sport casual shirt had both buttons undone and hung from his chest loosely without being tucked into the waistband. The muscled forearms I'd notice the previous evening swung confidently in stride with his steps. Sunbeams from the arched atrium windows caught golden hues in his foppish hair. Stunning package, stunning presentation! I'm surprised I remembered to stand as he reached the table.
I offered my hand with a `hello again', but he ignored both while he continued his approach, missing his intended chair. I looked into his sparkling eyes quickly and saw a glint of humor mixed with resolve. Part of my attention turned from his eyes to see his hands reaching for my face. And then they connected. His lips followed his hands and he kissed me solidly, longingly, yet chastely. When he pull back from me to grin at my dumbfounded expression, I gasped loudly and heard a wolf whistle from a table of guys behind us. Family.
"Good morning Sunshine." His grin widened into an electric smile. "Hope you don't mind my greeting. I've wanted to do that since the garage last night."
I stuttered something lame like, `no, not at all' and dropped into my seat. The guys behind us called for Jon to give them their morning kiss. He just smiled and waved, then sat opposite me across the table. Boy! Straight man confidence is amazing to watch in action.
My shock turned into pleasure and my face reflected it with a grin of my own.
"Is that a normal straight boy greeting on a Sunday morning? Or maybe it's the greeting reserved for after eleven? That must be it?"
"Did you mind it that terribly?" his feigned pout flopped miserably as the laughter in his eyes won out over the pout. "Look Marcus, I know that was probably more than weird for you." I snorted. "But I just had to do that, just like I had to see you this morning. I've been up since seven, pacing around my loft waiting for an appropriate hour to call Joshua for your number. I mean, I've . . . not stopped thinking about you all night. And to tell you the truth, I'm as weirded out about this as you must be. I mean . . . shoot, you're another guy!"
He looked around the restaurant and realized no one was watching any longer. He lean forward across the table and gestured for me to do the same. His voice was playful in its softness. "I think I have a crush on you." Then smiled and sat back, satisfaction on his face. I just looked at him, frozen in my same spot over the table.
What was wrong with me? Why didn't I say something? Christ! I had another jolt in my groin and my ass clenched when I watched his lips say he had a crush on me. Another jolt? Oh fuck, that's right! When he kissed me my groin felt like it lurched! Oh man! I'm fucking hard! I looked down at my crotch to see the shorts tented upward and to the left as my ass clenched again.
Jon pulled me from my awe-filled musings. "Look, I haven't felt anything . . . for anyone for two years now. And certainly I never expected to feel this way about a guy!" His eyes clouded briefly, then as though a decision was confirmed, they brightened again and glowed warmly at me. "I don't get why I've had butterflies in my stomach since the garage last night and I don't get why I kept being drawn back to wherever you were at the party as it progressed and I don't get why I kept wanting to make you laugh or impress you with my wit. I don't get it. I'm . . . shit! You're another guy! But just like with me pacing around my house last night and this morning. . . I don't get that either. I mean, my voice actually trembled when I asked Joshua for your number this morning. And it didn't help to hear Roxey, I think it was, in the background saying, `I told you he was interested in Marcus'.
I grinned upon hearing Jon relate that and then I grinned wider because my heart was getting ready to explode! But I kept quiet because I could tell he wasn't yet finished.
"I don't get any of this. But what I do get?" he paused then reached across the table and gently laid his palm against my cheek. "What I do get is that you're the reason for all this craziness of the last 14 or so hours. And you're the reason I felt my dick lurch in my slacks last night as we sat in the van doorway and why it's hard now, sitting here after finally kissing you. You're the reason Marc. I'm not sure what to do with any of this but I know, at least I think I know after watching you now, that maybe you might feel the same." His gaze locked solidly with mine. "Do you?"
All I could muster as I looked into the spinning, azure flecks of his eyes was to sigh, gently. I swallowed and tried to speak, but found no words coming forth. So I nodded slowly, repeatedly. His smile beamed at me! He caressed my cheek one last time then withdrew his hand.
Finally, words formed in my mind. "I'm as confused as you are Jon. I mean, you're a straight man, right?" He gave me a slight, uncertain and hesitant shrug in response. His eyes shared my own uncertainty.
"I'll give you one thing though; you're the reason for my own butterflies and the hardon in my shorts, which stuns me by the way." I grinned and my blush suffused my cheeks. "I haven't been hard like this, simply by a kiss and being able to look into the eyes of an absolutely gorgeous man, for years. Years, Jon! And I can't blame it on anyone else. So do I feel the same as you?" I stopped and swallowed without breaking eye contact. "Simply? Yes. And I don't know what we do from here either."
Just then my stomach growled loudly. Jon's lips broke into a huge grin and said, "Well then, I think my Sunshine needs a little food in his stomach. I can handle that one." He stood in a crouch and leaned across the table, bringing his lips to mine in a gentle brush. "Wanna order something now?"
"Sure. Coffee. Lots of it! I've never eaten with a woody before."
The boys at the table behind us applauded. My blush deepened and Jon's smile spread even brighter still.
I was in a cloud-filled daze the rest of the afternoon. Jon had left after eating because he had an Event set up at four-thirty that afternoon and he needed to organize the equipment and inspect the food being prepared by his chef. I was due at Roxey's apartment for dinner around six.
Jon had asked me and I'd agreed to accompany him on his setup. He said it should only take about an hour and then he'd be free. I'd asked if he'd like to join us at Roxey's and his nod and grin gave all the answer I needed. I called and quickly informed her that there would be an extra person joining us tonight. I hung up quickly, cutting off the immediate questions. Then I changed into my work shorts and headed out to the gardens to do a little pruning. I needed something to do so I could think without trying to and just let my mind wander.
The foremost thought in my mind was my memory of the restaurant and the erection I not only raised from the depths of where the Titanic lay, but how long I sustained it. How did that happen? Even with Michael it was a long shot at best after all of our years together and I'd not remained hard enough to do the deed for years. We would have great sessions with each other, but never with me on top. I was stumped. Then a thought wafted through my mind with the softness of an angel's feathers, Jon's an incredible stud that has the hots for you. Enough thinking. Go and enjoy every minute with him.
I paused for a moment, stunned, then gently smiled. Michael.
I clipped a few roses in bloom to take into the house and thought of giving one to Jon, then blushed at the thought. This though was what the gardens were all about, weren't they? Hadn't Michael brought me in single roses because of the simply joy he said it brought to my face and in turn, brought to his heart. It was about giving a bit of joy because he was thinking of me. I smiled as I placed the flowers in a vase, setting one apart for later.
The doorbell rang as I finished dressing. Jon was on time, certain to be eager to get to his setup. I felt the butterflies swarm again as I reached to open the door.
He stood there in khaki slacks and a brilliant white cotton Dior long sleeve, cuffs open, shirt untucked at the waist and hanging. His smile lit the door way as I handed him the single rose. He looked back quickly to me and reaching for my waist, drew me to his lips. The kiss electrified me and left me breathless. I pulled away after we finished in time to see Jon's face in a boyish mix of a warm smirk and a half-formed grin. He looked like he'd just gotten away with something. Then the rose reached his nose.
"Smells wonderful, like you."
I held back a laugh and tugged the door closed behind me.
"What's that grin for stud?" He asked, his hand clasping mine like teenagers as we made our way to the car.
"Oh, I was just imagining all the straight women out there now wailing into their wine spritzers about how yet another one was compromised by the enemy. Fags Rule!"
Jon's head flopped back as his laughter brayed out. "Oh, you think so, huh?"
"Well if that kiss was any indication along with the huge bulge in your khakis . . . I'd have to say the odds are definitely in my favor on this one."
He looked down at his crotch then met my eyes with that same boyish grin. "You did this you know. You're the one responsible."
I just laughed as he held open my car door.
The setup was as quick and easy as Jon had promised and went off without a hitch if you don't consider that I spilled a bowl of red sauce down my front. Jon said in a normal voice in front of his chef and the wait staff, "Well, I guess I'll just have to lick that off now won't I" We both look shocked for a second then roared with laughter. His staff's mouths dropped open in awe at what their "straight" boss just said.
I grabbed a towel and cleaned my shorts and shirt of the sauce as much as possible and we finished the setup shortly there after.
Obviously, before we left for Roxey's I'd need to make a pit stop at home for a quick change. Jon waited on the main floor as I donned a new outfit and then asked me to show him the gardens. During the tour he queried me time and again what was this plant and what was that plant. I surprised myself by rattling off the names. He was impressed and said as much. I assured him I couldn't remember all the names.
"That was Michael's domain."
"Well you're doing a great job by yourself. I've never been much of a gardener," he said. "That was always Jane's thing and she never did anything like this. Her focus was mostly with container gardening and with the Loft and all, that was enough. Our neighbors had some shrubs like yours growing in a raised rectangular planter and I always wondered what they were called. Dogwoods maybe?"
I chuckled at the mention of my notorious plant name catch-all. "Could have been, Dogwoods do very well in Colorado." Michael's voice whispered yes in my mind.
I took him into the house and described my efforts with the kitchen. Jon was visibly impressed that I'd completed it all on my own.
"Well I've still got a lot of finishing work to complete . . . like here", I bent down to point out the missing kick plates for the cabinets. "And here", as I moved to the sink, leaning over to point out the exposed wire locks and Romex. As I did, I heard a low, quiet growl immediately behind me then felt Jon press himself against my ass and wrap his arms around my chest. I groaned at the feeling of his body pressed to mine.
Can I do this? What if . . .? I'll be fine. The soothing thought drift across my fears.
Jon kissed the back of my neck and murmured something I couldn't quite hear.
"What was that?" my voice trembling with lust and excitement just as my body trembled as he continued to brush his lips against my neck.
"I said, `I can't believe I'm saying this, but you need to stop bending over in front of me like that or you might be in for a surprise'." He rubbed his groin against my butt cheeks and I felt his immense hardness as it surged in response to the contact.
"I love surprises Jon."
"Really? Even Now?" He stopped caressing my neck with his lips and I turned in his arms placing my face an inch from his own. My breath was ragged and my chest pounded with excitement and expectation.
"Yes. Now."
He pulled his head back from mine and looked to see if I was serious. He saw not only sincerity in my face, but also unmasked lust and desire. His face reflected what mine was experiencing. Those crystal eyes wide with lust.
"I'm not sure how to do this Marc. I mean . . .I just know I want it so badly it hurts."
"Just kiss me again stud. We'll be fine!" My mouth was suddenly filled with his tongue as he probed and thrust into me. I moaned around his tongue and my hands ran rampantly over his back and waist, finally settling on his buttocks which I grasped urgently with utter longing and desperately pulled his body closer to mine. His penis, rock hard behind the zipper mashed against my own. Our breaths turned into gasps and the gasps turned into shouts as I pushed him away from me, desperate to postpone the imminent orgasm that had started to build.
"What? What?" his voice constrained by lust and confusion.
"I almost shot in my shorts! Damn, Jon! I haven't been this horny for years, but I still can't climax multiple times like a woman or a teenage cum factory. That was close!"
"Oh stud, I know you're all man!" I groaned again. This was real!
"But god I want you now Jon. Now!"
He grabbed my face and again thrust his tongue into my mouth, yet keeping our bodies apart as he maneuvered us into the middle of the kitchen. His hand began hurriedly working to unbutton my shirt, then giving up in futility and lifted the light cotton over my head in one quick move. He gasped as his eyes focused on my chest. My chest pressed outward as his mouth attacked my nipple, biting and sucking until I thought I'd surely pass out from the utter pleasure. He moved to the other nipple and brought me to my toes yet again. His hands firmly grasping my biceps and squeezing them with equal, lustful strength as his mouth continued to alternate between my pointed, engorged nipples. He appeared to marvel at my chest hair like a kid with a new toy.
My hands finally achieved success as the last of his buttons opened and I ripped the shirt from his body. My hands raced to his chest and buried themselves in his ample golden chest hair. His pecs filled my own hands and I tweaked his nipples in a frenzy of lust and moans. His mouth moved up to my neck and ravaged the tender skin, bouncing from one side to the other, stopping briefly to plunder my mouth, then moving on, leaving me gasping for more.
The intensity peaked and I dropped to my knees, Jon following me to the floor. He rolled me onto my back on the chilled slate floor, one hand massaging my rigid member through the material of my shorts, the other cushioning my head from the hard stone.
"I've never felt another guy's hard dick before. It's so hard!"
He grinned then resumed his oral plundering. His tongue battled with mine for dominance, supremacy of the other. I briefly won out and thrust back into his mouth as my hands unbutton his slacks and raced in to grasp his hidden, rigid length. My palm was instantly warmed by the furnace of heat emitting from his penis and was covered in liquid that flooded copiously from his slit. He groaned and pushed himself onto his knees.
Hands, both of ours, worked to unzip and free him from the interminable prison of his slacks. He quickly stood and I ripped his pants and white jockeys to his ankles, revealing him in his rigid magnificence. I was momentarily paralyzed by his stunning body. His chest heaved, his face a mask of lust, eyes wild. And his cock . . . jutted out massive and full, arching slightly upward above a full and bulging sack. His scent and musk swept into my nose and I growled, lust-driven to near madness as my body raised up onto my knees and my mouth gutted itself upon his length. He buried his throbbing member to its limit as I gagged and growled around its swollen girth. His hands pressed my head further on to his rigid pole, grinding my face into his pubes. His utter strength and manliness overwhelmed me and simultaneously spurred me to further passion and lust. I pulled off him then thrust myself back to the base, chewing the root of his spear with abandon.
"Yes! God, YES!" he shouted as I continued my frenetic feast.
He pulled my head off my newly acquired yet now permanent addiction. His penis bounced up once then smacked my face, leaving a swath of spit and essence across my eyes and brow. "Christ Marcus! I almost lost it! I can't believe how hot your mouth is!
I grinned in satisfaction and mischief. "Wait till you claim my ass Stud!"
Jon groaned as he dropped to his knees, ripping my shorts from my body and pushing me back to the floor. His mouth enclosed my the head without hesitation as I pressed upward into his hot and wet lips. His head moved up and down, experiencing the taste and texture of his first cock. His nose passionately drawing in my scent repeatedly. He was driven onward by his lust. His hand grasped my sac and squeezed lightly, tugging outward on them to increase his action, stimulating me unbelievably all the more. The effect was outrageous! I thrust up into him repeatedly, his mouth causing me to cry out in raw ecstasy.
"Fuck your mouth! Oh Jon, that's so hot!! Watch your teeth straight boy . . . yeah, that's it. Suck me, it's all yours, Jon!" He groaned and then swallowed me as far as his inexperience mouth could one last time. His mouth drew away and my shaft slapped against my contracting abs, bouncing back up and staying hard, rigid in its proper, thrilling form. His hand grasped me and slid slowly, strongly upward and down again. His mouth bathed my sac, taking first one hairy orb then the next into his mouth, lathing them with spit and warmth. Primal rutting noises accented his ceaseless tongue action. Then, without warning, Jon hoisted my legs up toward my chest and plunged his mouth into my cleft, grunting with unrestrained, unleashed passion. Crazed with lust, I shouted out with startled surprise; my feral, guttural cry prolonged into a breathless gasp. My mind and senses were stunned by his action at my gate. His tongue quickly smashed through my defenses, plunging into me.. His head mashed into my pulsing cave, force further by my trembling hands. I groaned with each thrust, knowing that I couldn't continue at this fevered level much longer without release.
Jon must have sensed my approaching ecstasy his mouth and hands were causing. He pulled free and grabbed his still spit-coated organ. His eyes met mine in a paroxysm of sheer passion and lust.
"Baby, that's incredible!" Then, panting, "I have to have you now, Stud! Lube?"
"Yes! Now!. Use spit."
He looked uncertain. His breathing slowed. "Won't it hurt?"
"A little, but don't worry. You gotta do it NOW!" I cried as his eyes mastered mine. My mouth hung open in an obscene display of wanton lust.
In response to my demand, two of his fingers entered my hole, causing my body to lurch upward with surprise and pleasure. "Yes! That's it!" My once again, nearly virgin entrance welcomed his two fingers with spasms and contractions. My lust overruled my physical discomfort as I yelled in a deep, scratchy, gutter-born voice, "Do it Jon, fuck me with your fingers. Get me ready for that huge dick. Do it to me, now! Do it!"
He watched my eyes, his initially uncertain, yet never allowing his gaze to leave mine as he continued to thrust his fingers into me, grazing my long neglected prostate in his inexperience and causing my organ to tremble and leak. His other hand worked additional spit onto himself, lubing it for his first venture into man-to-man sexual rutting at its best.
My lips mouthed the words `Do it, Do it' to him as he stared into my glazed, sluttish sole with eyes equally glazed. He moved forward onto his knees and placed the burning, rigid head to the lips of my tunnel. He looked down and spit another load of lube onto the knob, spreading it around my opening with his fingers. Then he pressed forward, slowly, eyes again riveted to mine own.
I felt the initial resistance give as I pressed out with all my focused strength and the head and shaft slipped farther, deeper into me. The feeling was unlike anything I ever remembered. As he moved further up my passage, his body lowered closer to mine until, as he bottomed out, his lips crushed onto mine and we both uttered a moan of amazement.
"So goood!" he groaned.
The feeling in me was one of throbbing pain and absolute thickness. Jon held still as my arched body gradually relaxed and grew accustomed to the invading spear. My own penis, hard and rigid, rubbed slickly against Jon's own rigid abdominal muscles. I sighed, blissed out with the feeling of this man pressed onto and into me. I simply could not remember ever feeling this complete, this much pleasure.
"Fuck Marc! You're so damn tight!" His gasp accenting my own feeling.
"You're so big! So hard!"
Then, slowly, he began to move.
Jon's mouth again dueled with my own, this time gently, tenderly, passionately brushing my lips with his own; his silky tongue dancing softly. I began to emit little, keening gasps as his hips began their rhythmic, primal dance. His thrusts started to increase in pace and intensity. Our bodies plunged back and forth with each powerful thrust. His tongue demanded full access to my mouth and I willingly submitted to the domination. I sucked his tongue frantically as he began to pound my aching, pleasured depths. He shifted his weight and suddenly, thrust after thrust of his strength raped my prostate and caused me to emit a continuous gutteral cry.
"Oh, Oh fuck, that's it! Oh Fuck! Yes, more! Harder!" My voice, almost undistinguishable due to my mouth being stuffed with his tongue, raved on with my incessant sexual grunts, barely human in sound or emissions. Finally, his pounding reached a truly super-human pace and ferocity and his constant battering of my prostate shattered the remaining resolve I had to make this last forever!
My chest arched upwards and my head rolled back into the arch. I blasted fiercely between our bodies, spraying essence upwards to cover both his chest and throat and mine in kind. My ass muscles clamped down yet again on his pounding sword, bringing him to the point of no return. He bellowed his orgasm as he reared back and drove his conquering spear one last time into the depths of my soul. He froze and his voice growled, increasing strength and volume till he finally ran out of breath and cried, "Marcus! MARCUS!" His hot, searing liquid spayed my ass with its release as he pulsed repeatedly in his shattering climax.
I threw my arms around him and forced his body back to mine, lips pressed in gasping throws of union and release! Finally, blissful, joyous release!!!
We collapsed in a puddle of sweat and cum, breaths straining to return to normal.
"Oh my sweet Marcus! Oh, my hot stud, please tell me that was real Lover!"
My heart swoon at his passionate usage of the word. "Damn right it was! It was very real." My breathing slowed and my legs circled tightly once again around his waist and glutes. He slowly began to pull out of my blasted anus. I was sore and sated. Not a bad combination. Not bad at all considering how long it had been since I had experienced both an incredible hands-free orgasm and a simultaneous explosion into my thoroughly plundered hole. I was in bliss and the god responsible was just finishing his withdrawal.
He bent down and gently kissed my leaking, inflamed entrance, then helped me off my back and we collapsed against the cupboards, leaning against the other, hands clasped in shared, spent passion.
Jon turned to look at me, his eyes spent, but still incredulous. His piercing gaze locked deep into my own as he slowly shook his head.
"That was the most incredible sex I've ever had in my life. Bar none Marc."
I grinned at him and sighed, slowly nodding my agreement. "Ditto for me too! You were so hard and sure!"
"You Stud, are definitely my muse and I want more!" He said, the mischievous grin winning out over incredulity.
I sighed contentedly then groaned at the thought. We'd have to wait a bit for a repeat, I thought with a contented sigh. And definitely use real lube the next time! The warmth in my insides was going to be with me for a little while at least.
"Oh baby, don't groan Stud. Next time it's you that'll do the fucking. I just gotta know what its like to be taken by that sweet piece of meat between your legs!"
I burst forth with laughter. "Are you sure you're straight, Lover?"
He beamed at the return usage of the word. "Oh no, not any longer, Babe, not any longer. You've cured me of that! I've definitely swung to your side for good."
His kiss was full of laughter and love. "And I think I'm gonna need a lot more of your kind of cure, probably forever just to be sure it takes." His eyes and mine welled with new love.
My cell phone, forgotten in my shorts pocket, shrieked into the silence left by our kiss.
"That would be Joshua." We both sighed, exhausted, but whole again.
I paused before we moved to join the rest of our waiting clan, and gazed one last time into the mirror of his starlit eyes and it was there, I saw, contained in his tears, where my own release lay.
And I smiled.
The End.
(Comments can be sent to dfilchak1521@yahoo.com). Thanks
for reading.