This story, a work of fiction, is told in alternating segments from the perspective of a young dermatologist named Wade and his even younger neighbor, a barber named Jeremy. This installment is the first of three parts.
If you're under 18, go play a video game instead. Better yet, go do something nice for someone. If you want to reproduce this story in any form, please ask my permission first.
I hope you'll let me know what you think of Part 1 by dropping me a line at nvtahoeus@yahoo.com. Reader feedback is the only "pay" I get and motivates me to keep writing new stories. Thanks!
- Damian
WADE:
Looking back on it now, I guess I should have realized when Jeremy Wilson moved into the house across the street from me last summer that my rather dull, socially deprived life was about to change for the better. Much better.
But there was little in his demeanor when we first met to tell me that he would be anything more than just another neighbor to me. My busy life as a dermatologist had left me with little time to think about anything but my practice. If I didn't have a lawn that needed mowing once in a while, I doubt I would ever have met any of my neighbors -- Jeremy included.
I had always been your classic introverted bookworm type -- successful at my chosen profession but lacking in the social graces that it takes to interact successfully with people outside of my job.
I was already 33 when Jeremy came into my life. I don't know where the years had gone, or why I hadn't thought much about the fact that I was still alone at that age. But I was. Medical school, an internship, a residency, establishing a practice -- they had all taken me from age 20 to past 30 with seldom even a week off to savor any of the pleasures that most of my contemporaries take for granted -- sex, with another person that is, being one of them.
Yes, I know it was my own fault, but I was still a virgin at an age when most guys my age already had a sexual history as long as your...well, you know what I mean. A couple of my classmates were already on their second or third marriages and even had teenagers, and here I was with nothing more to show for my sexuality than a very limber right hand.
Oh, yes -- I did manage to carve out a few minutes several times a week to relieve myself of the sexual tension that all guys have. In fact, my job was such that I probably had more "fodder" for sexual tension than most guys. Being a dermatologist means that I see a lot of skin five days a week. Most of it is on people that one would normally not want to see naked, but once in a while a young, slim person with skin that isn't sagging yet or covering a proliferation of body fat walks into my office and disrobes. Those are the times when I'm glad I went into this specialty.
At first I didn't think too much about whether it was a male or a female. Either can look good when they have a toned body and a weight proportional to their height. But I soon realized that I was taking longer examining the good-looking men than their female counterparts.
I was such a nerd that I didn't even realize until the past few years that I was probably gay. I had been slow to reach puberty and never had had a real "date" in my life. I didn't even need to shave every day until I was in college, and even then people mistook me for a freshman long after I had ceased to be one.
If there was a book nearby -- and there almost always was -- my nose was in it. That was my so-called "life."
Even in recent years -- before I met Jeremy anyway -- I spent most of my weekends catching up on my sleep, reading the many medical journals I subscribe to, and doing my medical billing and household finances. I had once trusted an accountant to do that, but I got burned because I hadn't screened her well enough and she took advantage of my trust. But I digress.
It was an unplanned stroke of luck that led me to meet Jeremy in the first place. After a week of non-stop rain, my lawn needed mowing in the worst way one Saturday afternoon, when the sun finally decided to emerge again. That particular afternoon, I noticed a moving van unloading its contents across the street, at a house that had been vacant for a few months. Two strapping young men were doing all the work -- no one else was even on the premises, it seemed, so I wondered who was really moving in. I assumed the two young men were just day laborers who had been hired for the chore.
As I said, I pretty much kept to myself and only waved to the neighbors when they waved to me. As the afternoon progressed, it got warm and sticky, and soon the young men had taken their shirts off. As they had on only shorts, there was plenty of skin exposed. And from what I could see from my front yard I found the young men quite worthy of some visual attention. I decided then that my rather neglected yard could use a little extra work, so I stayed outside longer than I normally would just to admire the view across the street.
After an hour or so, as they were returning to the truck, one of them waved to me, so I waved back, not thinking too much about it, but secretly glad that he had taken a moment to acknowledge my presence (and my stares, if the truth be known).
I turned back to my mowing task, but I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the young man didn't stop at the truck as usual. He was on his way across the street, still shirtless, headed directly for my house!
JEREMY:
I was so excited that day. I had been dreaming of having a house of my own for years, and the dream had long been just that -- a dream. I was only 25 years old and was making a living as a barber, which is not a job that typically pays enough to own a house of your own. But a favorite grandmother of mine had died and left me a nice trust fund, and the housing market had turned in favor of the buyer, so I went looking on my days off. I found this really cute house that had been repossessed that I could actually afford and decided to make an offer on it. To my surprise, my offer was immediately accepted and I was going to be a homeowner as soon as it closed four weeks later.
When the big day finally arrived, a friend of mine offered to help me move from my tiny apartment with a rented truck, and it only took one load to hold all my stuff. We'd been working at unloading it that afternoon, and I kept noticing a nice-looking man across the street mowing his yard and looking over in our direction. Being the gregarious person that I am, I decided to wave and see if I got a response. When I did, I walked across the street to introduce myself.
"Hi, I'm Jeremy Wilson," I said. "I just bought the house across the street."
The man was even cuter up close, and he had big brown soulful eyes that locked with mine for long enough for me to think he might be gay, too. He seemed surprised by my spontaneous visit. I wondered if he was ever going to say anything.
"Welcome to the neighborhood, Jeremy," he finally said. "I'm Wade Daniels." We shook hands and I took him in head to toe. He was not your typical head turner, but he was better looking than most guys on the street. He was about 5'10" -- an inch or so shorter than me -- with a somewhat unkempt head of hair (hey, I'm a barber -- I notice these things), a smooth complexion, and a trim body. He had on a pair of wire rim glasses, a tee shirt, and some long-out-of-fashion shorts. The overall impression was that of a young college professor who needed to spend more time outdoors where he could get a little color on his face. I was neither repulsed nor overly attracted -- I was just glad to meet someone on my new block.
"You live here with your family?" I inquired, curious to know more about him.
"No, it's just me," he said, somewhat nervously I thought. He still seemed surprised that I had come over to say hello. "I bought this house seven years ago. This is a nice, quiet neighborhood. I hope you'll like it here. What do you do for a living, Jeremy?"
"I have a barbershop a few blocks from here. Been a barber now for about five years. Never thought I'd ever be a homeowner, but here I am! What sort of work do you do?" I asked, picturing him lecturing before a room half full of bored students about medieval literature or something equally unstimulating.
"Oh, I'm physician -- a dermatologist actually, in private practice. I have an office here in my home."
"Wow -- a real doctor right across the street from me. I'll remember that next time I hit my thumb with my hammer," I laughed. "The place I bought needs a little fixing up after being empty so long."
"Yes, it's been neglected for a while. I'm really glad to see someone like you moving in," Wade replied, seeming to blush a little and dropping his eyes to the ground. "I mean you look like someone who'll care for the house like it used to be."
"I'll sure try," I said. "This is my dream home, and I'm going to try to keep up with the Joneses as far as the outside is concerned. When I can afford some furniture, I'll invite you over for a drink, if you like."
"Of course -- that sounds nice. Would you and your, uh, friend like to come over here for a cold drink when you're done unloading?"
"That sounds wonderful, Wade. My friend Harry has something else to do after we finish, but I'll wander back over around 4:30. Okay? You have a nice front porch. I'll be able to look over at my new house from it. See ya later."
WADE:
I'd lived here seven years, and that was the longest conversation I'd ever had with any neighbor. I watched Jeremy go back across the street. He had a certain strut to his walk that defined him as a very confident young man. Yet he lacked the arrogance that often accompanies such self-confidence. I was amazed and, yes, very pleased that he had taken the initiative to introduce himself to me -- a total stranger -- so willingly, even enthusiastically. His manner was captivating, and I wonder to this day how I ever found the courage within myself to invite him back over for a drink. It was very unlike me.
I scurried about, finishing my yard work, and jumped in the shower to clean up. I never have much to look forward to in my hum-drum world, and I found myself checking the clock every ten minutes to see how close it was to 4:30. Fortunately, I had five cold beers in the refrigerator, left over from my brother's last visit a few months ago, and enough cheese and crackers on hand to lay out a decent snack tray. I found a radio station that was neither too raucous for conversation nor too old-fogey to make him think I was a relic from another generation, even though I had felt like one in his presence earlier.
What was he -- 25? 26? At 33 I wasn't old enough to be his father, but still I felt an age gap and wondered if he felt it, too. Jeremy wasn't drop-dead gorgeous, but he did have a boyish charm about him that I felt drawn to. Hell, "drawn to" wasn't even close to describing the ache I felt as he had stood there in front of me. He was a blue-eyed cutie that I had found irresistible as he stood there earlier talking to me in just a pair of sweat-soaked gym shorts. He was entirely hairless on his torso, and I had followed the trail of a couple of beads of sweat on his chest as they cascaded down over his very erect nipples when I thought he wasn't looking. I had wanted desperately to reach out and stroke one of them with my index finger, but of course I had resisted the urge. For all I knew, he could have been straight. I wasn't very good at telling the difference without more blatant cues than he had thrown out in our brief
conversation in my front yard. But I definitely found myself wanting to know.
Finally 4:30 came and went. Harry (was he Jeremy's lover, God forbid, or just a friend?) had driven the truck away almost an hour ago. I knew Jeremy was now alone in his house and I in mine. Was he too tired now to keep our "date," if that's what it was? There was so much I wanted to know, and I felt excited that I might get the chance to continue getting to know this attractive young stranger.
Just as I was despairing that my eager waiting was for naught, I saw Jeremy exiting his house and walking back over toward mine, still shirtless! My heart was in my throat, and I had to remind myself to stay calm. This was, after all, only a drink or two, although in the back of my mind I was wondering if it could possibly turn out to be more.
Jeremy was carrying a plastic bag and wearing a big smile. That smile almost made me forget that I'd seen handsomer men -- even naked ones -- in my office. Somehow, it didn't matter -- what mattered was that Jeremy was not coming here as a patient. He was coming here because he wanted, with obvious enthusiasm, to spend some time with me -- unlike any of those handsomer patients, who couldn't wait to get their clothes back on and leave me with a hard-on to take care of with my right hand while thinking about their perfect bodies.
"Hi, Jeremy." I tried to sound happy to see him without coming across as fawning.
"Hi, again, Wade. Thanks for having me over. I can't wait for that cold drink. But first I wonder if I could ask a big favor of you."
"Sure -- what's that?"
"Well, this is going to sound pretty strange, but I wonder if I could take a quick shower over here. The city was supposed to turn on my water today, but it hasn't happened yet, and I don't dare sit down and chat until I smell better. Do you mind?"
"No, not at all. I had no idea you didn't have any water yet. You should've said something sooner -- you and Harry didn't have anything to drink over there in this hot sun, did you?"
"Well, fortunately, I had brought some bottled water with us in the truck. I brought some clean flip-flops to wear in your house and a change of clothes. Where can I wash up?"
"There's a bathroom with a shower right at the top of the stairs, Jeremy. I'd better go with you, though. The faucet in the shower is a strange one, and you'll probably need some help in turning it on. Follow me."
I had a serious case of butterflies as I escorted my new neighbor up the stairs, knowing that he was going to be naked in my shower in just seconds. This was a different feeling than I got even when telling one of my hunky male patients to disrobe for a skin examination.
Jeremy had brought a towel, a bar of soap, and a bottle of shampoo with him, even though I would've been glad to let him use mine. I had just turned on that tricky faucet and mixed the water to what I thought would be a comfortable temperature, when I turned around and saw that my attractive new neighbor -- with his back to me -- had stripped off his shorts and had his hands on the waistband of his briefs, ready to pull them off as well.
"Uh, there you go, my friend," I managed to squeak out, as his shapely white buns came into view.
"Thanks, Wade. I'll be down in a few minutes."
"Make yourself at home, Jeremy. That cold beer will be waiting for you."
I left the room and closed the door, not wanting to stay and stare like some sort of pervert. Well, actually I did want to stay, but I knew it was the better part of valor not to. But I couldn't help but think -- would he have turned around and shown me much more if I'd taken any longer adjusting that faucet?
My heart was thumping in my chest. Why was this young man affecting me like this? These were feelings that I wasn't used to having, although I can't say I was sorry. I knew there had to be much more to life than what I had experienced, and I was going to enjoy these rarely felt sensations while I could.
With thoughts of Jeremy naked in my shower, I fidgeted more with the cheese and crackers while I waited, aligning them in perfect symmetry on the plate. I took the plate out on the front porch with a couple of beers when I heard the bathroom door open and Jeremy's flip-flops on the stairs.
"Thanks, Wade -- you're a lifesaver. I feel like a million bucks again."
"You look and smell like a million bucks, too," I thought to myself as he sat down across from me, setting his bag down beside him. He had put on a clean pair of shorts and a snug tank top that fit him like a glove.
"I can't believe I didn't grab any clean underwear before I came over here. Hope you don't mind that I'm going commando here," he smiled.
At that time in my oh-so-sheltered life I didn't know what "going commando" meant, but I caught his drift and just smiled back, a little weakly probably. I wondered why he had felt a need to share that particular bit of information with me, but it became apparent as my eyes involuntarily dropped to his crotch. An enormous bulge was snaking its way down one leg of his shorts, something that would have been much less conspicuous if he had been wearing underwear. His shorts were so tight on him that I could even tell that he was circumcised.
I looked away quickly, choking on my beer, but not quickly enough.
"Oops, sorry, guy," he said. "Didn't mean to embarrass you. I don't want to come off as immodest, but these monsters run in my family. If you think this one is big, you should see what my dad and brothers are packing. I'm the runt of the family!"
He laughed like he told this story all the time. Ah, the devil-may-care attitude of the young, I thought as I regained my composure, even though I was probably only eight years older, at most. His seemingly effortless candor about his most personal body part was something I found more than a bit unnerving.
"No problem, Jeremy. I'm a doctor -- remember? I see naked guys every day of the week."
"Wow -- what a job to have! I'm envious. Being a barber, all I ever get to see is the back of some guy's ears."
Well, well, I thought to myself. Envious, huh? Maybe Jeremy isn't as straight as I feared. Somehow, that unnerved me even more, although it was exactly what I had been hoping to discover about him.
JEREMY:
Wade was so cute when he got embarrassed, and I found him increasingly adorable the longer I was with him that day. He didn't know until much later that I had fibbed a little that day. I actually had running water in the house, but it hadn't heated up enough that first day to take a shower. I could've taken a lukewarm one in my place, but I thought it would be more fun to take a hot one in his. When he took me upstairs to turn on the water for me, I thought I'd tease him a bit and start stripping while he was in the room. I think he got a peek at my bare buns, but not my manhood. That would come later.
But my real "fib" was telling him I forgot to bring clean underwear with me. I lied -- I did it intentionally to see what kind of reaction I would get when he saw the more-than-ample wad in my shorts. I put on some tight tan-colored ones to show myself to best advantage, and he took the bait. That all but confirmed my suspicions -- that Wade wasn't any straighter than I was. I could tell that my body was of interest to him, even though he tried to pretend otherwise.
I had known the first time we shook hands that Wade was my type. They say that opposites attract, and I had always been drawn to slim, introverted types who were calm and stable. He fit that type to a T. I'd been out with plenty of extroverts like myself, but none of them had appealed to me in the long run. I needed a man who had a secure career and one who wasn't always looking over my shoulder to see if someone more to his liking was coming along. More than once I'd been dumped by some guy who thought I wasn't quite good enough for him. I wanted someone who could like me for who I was. And I saw that possibility in Wade, even though he was obviously a few years older.
On the other hand, my latest "dumping" had occurred only two months ago, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to let down my guard and become vulnerable again so soon.
We talked for a couple of hours on the porch about everything and nothing. Half the time I wasn't really listening. I was intrigued with Wade's manner, his smooth delicate features, and the way he kept sneaking peeks at my endowment. After we had finished off his beer and snacks, he invited me to stay for hamburgers on the grill, but by then I was wiped. Packing and moving -- even what little I had -- for the past two days had taken their toll, not to mention the three beers I'd consumed on his porch. Even by 7 p.m. I was ready to call it a day. I asked if his offer would be good the following evening, and he readily agreed to that plan. I told him I'd bring a salad and some dessert since he was providing the burgers.
"It was really nice to meet you today, Wade," I said as I rose. I had already peed once, but I didn't want to ask again and I really needed to, so I gathered up my stuff and turned to go back across the street. Halfway across, I turned to see if he was watching me. He was. We waved to each other, and he turned to go inside. I had a feeling then that we would be seeing much more of each other. At least I hoped so. As it turned out, I would not be wrong about that.
(Check back for Part 2 very soon. And don't forget to send me an e-mail with your feedback on Part 1. I'll be watching for it. Damian at nvtahoeus@yahoo.com.)