This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This story also deals with love and consensual sexual activities between men. If you are not of legal age, reside in an area where viewing such material is illegal, or are offended by such themes, do not read further and leave this site now.
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Two Lives - Two Loves
Chapter 13
Ron Warner had dressed simply, and I mean that somewhat facetiously, for the day, a rumpled, white tee, a beaten up pair of jeans, some equally beaten up no-name sneakers, along with an old gym bag. I assumed it was his change of clothes for the pool. For a split second, I didn't know whether to greet him or hand him some change because he looked for all the world like an old time drifter that just went around doing odd jobs to get by. I guarantee you, though, that no drifter had ever looked this good, rumpled or not. I tried very hard not to eye him up and down, but I saw that he had no problem doing it to me, even though he was trying to not be obvious about it. In all fairness, it might have been a little imagination on my part; it might have just been surprise. I mean, how often have you gone to visit someone and had them meet you at the door half wet and half naked?
"Hey, Brad! How's it going?" Ron asked in that upbeat way of his.
"Doin' great, Ron! How 'bout you?" I said, reaching out to shake his extended hand. "Glad to see you found the place okay."
"Oh, hey, it was no problem. Everybody knows this place," he said.
"They do?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement.
"Oh yeah. When I was a kid we used to call it the Haunted Mansion...you know, like that place in Disney World," he continued. "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you out of the shower," he said, finally commenting on my state of undress. "Should I come back?" he asked sheepishly.
"No, no," I said, smiling, trying to put him at ease. "I was just finishing some laps in the pool when you drove up. It's no prob, man. C'mon in," I said, stepping aside to let him in. "I've got everything set up."
"Cool," he said, picking up the small bag he was carrying. He stepped into the entry, looked around and whistled a long, fading note as his eyes took in the restoration, the antiques and the artwork, of which the entry held only a small fraction. He let out with a drawn out, almost overwhelmed, "Duuuuuuuuuuude." The sound of it made me laugh; I thought Jon was the only one who talked like that. Oh, well, I thought; now I had a pair of bookends.
"Let me get some dry shorts on and I'll give you the tour," I said. "Make yourself at home."
"Thanks," he replied, setting his bag down and shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders in that way that people have when they feel a little out of their element. He just kind of shuffled around, taking it all in.
I wrapped my towel around my neck and headed up. I began to have one of those feelings of mine again and it was definitely giving me the strong sense that Ron wasn't too interested in the antiques. After pulling on a shirt and changing into some fresh shorts, I wrapped my wet trunks in the towel to drain some of the excess water. I went back downstairs to find that Ron had hardly moved a muscle. He really felt nervous to me. The only thing missing was the shaking and the cold sweats. He was trying to put up a good front but it wasn't getting past my radar.
I beamed my best smile at him as I came down, which he returned automatically. I was glad to see that his bod came equipped with a really nice smile. I was a little amazed at how different he looked in the light of day. Normally we'd seen him in the dim lights of the restaurant. I don't know how to describe it, exactly. I guess the difference was that the daylight brought clarity to his features, the variations in light and shadow playing over him in a way that just didn't happen in the restaurant. Don't get me wrong; he looked good there, but he looked better here.
I smiled again and looked at him quizzically. "Loosen up, Cool, you're among friends," I said as I clapped him on the back. He smiled nervously and looked reflexively down at the floor then back up at me.
"Thanks," he began. "...it's just," he trailed off.
"What?" I asked, genuinely a little concerned.
"Nothin'...it's...," he stammered a little. "I just wanted to thank you guys again for having me over..."
"Hey, no problem," I said, trying to put him at ease. "Jon and I wanted to get to know some other people around town while we're here; you're kinda the first." He was really nervous and ill at ease. I don't know, maybe he was more intimidated by these surroundings than I thought.
"...it's just that...," he started up again. "Oh, don't pay any attention to me," he said, changing his mind in mid-thought, quickly straightening his back and throwing out that smile again. "Hey, where's Jon, by the way?"
Something was eating at him but now was not the time to ask. I was just glad to see him smile again. He was starting to make me a little nervous. "He went out to run some errands," I replied. "I'm not sure when he'll be back but he left his gear for you to use, so we don't have to wait."
"Excellent," Ron said. "How's about that tour?"
"Absolutely," I said, pointing to the left towards the Front parlor. We walked around the downstairs in kind of a slow clockwise circle. Jon's uncle had interconnected all the spaces so that there were no longer any real dead-ends in the house. I pointed out all of the highly dustable artwork and furnishings that I knew absolutely nothing about and about which Jon knew only marginally more. I only knew that we had to be careful walking around the place.
"Yeah, I can see why," Ron said, still a little in awe of the place.
I pointed out what had been the old Study, knowing what it was from my dreams, which then connected to a small sitting room and a couple of other spaces, which really had no particular function except to display antiques, at the back of the Main Entry that then led into the huge kitchen with its adjacent entertainment area.
"Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about!" Ron said, pointing at the entertainment setup.
"Yeah," I drawled as I smiled back at him. "We spend a lot of time in here. It's the only TV in the place."
"That's kinda weird, don't you think," he asked.
"I guess TV's mess up the ambience of the rest of this art gallery," I noted.
I pointed out the back yard and pool area and Ron's mouth almost dropped to the floor. "Tell me that's where we're going," he begged.
"That's the place," I assured him, pointing out that I had the dive gear already set up and waiting for him.
"Duuuuuuude!" he replied again poking me on the shoulder as I smiled at his expansive vocabulary. I had the feeling he was one of those people who liked poking at you for emphasis when they were excited about something. I hoped not. Some of my friends down home and some people I'd met from the southwest did it, but guys I knew from the north didn't seem to have that habit. Maybe it was a regional thing. I didn't care for it too much, but I didn't make a big thing out of it. That was just his way, I figured. He seemed happy, so I figured "what-the-hell".
While he gaped at the pool, I left his side for a moment to open the refrigerator with our still copious supply of beer. "And this is for after your lesson," I said, getting his attention.
"Oh, my God!" he whispered, walking slowly up to the fridge as if he were approaching some kind of altar. "Tell me I'm not dreaming," he asked.
"Nope," I smiled smugly. "It's real...and highly drinkable, too, I might add."
Ron took down one of the bottles for closer inspection and was obviously pleased, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. "You guys got this all to yourselves?"
"Yep," I said, with a twinge of pride. Of course, it wasn't as though I had anything to do with it. I was just the grateful benefactor.
"You take in borders?" he asked hopefully.
I couldn't help but laugh. "We'll see! Lemme show you the rest and we can get started."
From there we went around through a Butler's Pantry into the formal Dining Room, in the middle of which sat a huge old mahogany table with matching chairs enough for 14 people, flanked by an equally huge sideboard with all of the accompanying dining room sort of bric-a-brac. I explained that we didn't use the room. It was way too stuffy for our tastes. We were half afraid to even walk though it for fear of knocking something over or scratching something. We'd have to dust it all eventually but, generally, we left the room alone.
Finding ourselves back in the Entry Hall, I then gave him a quick tour of the upstairs. It kind of felt like he was wondering which one or ones of the bedrooms we used and I tried not to smile as I felt that coming off of him. Finally, there wasn't much more to see unless he was interested in the linen closets.
"Well, that's pretty much it," I said, clapping my hands in front of me as sort of a finale. "Some place, huh?"
"You ain't kiddin'," he said. "This place doesn't look anything like what I imagined. My friend's really gonna love this! She's all into antiques 'n stuff, too."
"That's your friend the psychic, right?" I asked. "Wha'd you say her name was?"
"I'm not sure I did, but it's Alicia," he said. "Alicia Cunningham."
"Cunningham," I murmured, barely audible. "I know that name from somewhere...where was it? Oh, well; it'll come to me," I thought, shrugging my shoulders. We were in one of the spare bedrooms already, so I told Ron that if he wanted to change into his swim trunks that here was as good a place as any to do it. "I'm gonna go change and meet you back."
"Excellent," he said as I left him.
I went back to Jon's and my bathroom, stripped off my clothes and pulled my trunks out of the towel I'd wrapped them in. Believe me, there's nothing quite as cold as a pair of wet trunks that've been lying around for a while, but I got used to it again after a few minutes. I grabbed a couple of fresh, oversized towels from the rack and headed out, meeting Ron in the hallway and tossing him one.
He looked very smooth, very lean and very tight but not overly developed. His shoulders had a natural broadness to them that I attributed more to good genes than to working out. They tapered down to a trim waist that was crowned by a set of nicely defined abs. And then there were those legs...also very lean, with crisp, natural definition, and somewhat long in proportion to the rest of him. It gave the illusion of him being taller than his six feet, which I'm sure he didn't mind a bit. From the floor, those legs led all the way up to a trim little ass that I could sort of make out underneath of the tattered, cut-off jeans he was wearing. Strewn with holes, through which his white briefs peeked, they looked like a leftover from when the shredded look was in, now getting a second life as swim trunks. In all, it was a nice composition that I didn't mind letting my eyes linger over for a second or two. I hoped I wasn't being obvious but I thought saw Ron smile for half a second, so I guess I wasn't as subtle as I'd hoped.
"Thanks," he said, snatching the towel from the air. "I forgot to bring one."
"No prob," I said. "Say, where do you work out? Jon and I were looking for a place," I asked. It was a complete lie but I wanted to give a plausible excuse for staring and to see how much water I could get from the well.
"Oh, I can't afford a gym," he said. "I just run a lot and watch what I eat...which isn't much on a waiter's take-home."
A runner; I knew it. It also sounded like he was poor as a church mouse. Jon and I tended to take money for granted, never having been without it. That's not to say that we were spendthrifts, we just didn't worry about it. Ron, apparently, was at the other end of the spectrum, barely getting by only on what he earned. I admired that.
"Oh, well...I guess we'll have to look around. C'mon, let's get wet!" I said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Ron listened attentively as I explained the SCUBA gear to him and gave him the list of do's and don'ts, mostly don'ts. Then we were ready to hit the water. As with Jon, I told him to just do everything that I did, inflated my BC and rolled forward into the water. He followed but forgot to hold onto his mask, which got shoved down to his neck.
He hadn't quite finished the cartwheel he was turning as he entered when the water shot up his nose and the surprise of the mask being forced down made him drop his regulator. His arms were starting to flail as he tried to get his orientation back, but he wasn't having much luck, it looked like. His BC was partially inflated and would right him in a few seconds, but until that point in the very near future Ron gave every indication that he was going to freak. I could hear a couple of sharp but garbled cries as I kicked hard to get to him fast and get him to the surface before he started inhaling water. I yanked the emergency cord on his BC, twisting to my side and out of his way as he immediately popped to the surface like a cork, coughing and sputtering. I followed quickly after him and put a hand on each shoulder, trying to calm him down from the panic I knew he'd probably be in.
"You're okay, Ron...you're okay," I said, trying to be as calm and even mannered as possible. "You just took a little water, that's all...happens to everyone. You wouldn't be normal if you didn't fuck up at least once," I said, trying to get him to laugh. He coughed again and rested his hands on my arms. I could feel him shaking a little and what I could see of his body was covered in goose bumps. He didn't say anything but I could hear his breathing slowing as he pulled back quickly from the edge of panic. I placed a reassuring hand around the back of his neck. "You okay, now?" I asked quietly.
"Yeah," he finally said, nodding. "Sorry 'bout that. That was stupid."
"Don't be sorry," I corrected him, giving his shoulder a playful shake. "...could'a happened to anybody. What we need to do is get you back on the horse right now."
He knew I was right and I could tell that he wanted to continue, despite his less than auspicious start, just to show he wasn't a wuss. He pulled his mask back on and I showed him how to clear it properly. Then I told him to hold on to my straps while I bled the air out of our BC's so we'd submerge together. I wanted to be as reassuring as I could since he was still a little jittery. Slowly, we sank to the bottom of the diving well and came to rest on our knees. I held out my hands in a 'Ta-Da' sort of gesture and he gave me a double thumbs-up in reply, then patted me on the shoulder as a silent thanks for nursemaiding him along.
I checked him out and he started getting the hang of it. His breathing was good and he seemed to be taking to it. We paddled around for a while and I laughed as he turned a cartwheel in his new, weightless environment. I knew he was back to normal then. I brought us back to the surface now and then only to give him some new instructions. We kind of made a game out of retrieving lost masks. Then I showed him how to make an emergency ascent...the right way, this time. After that, we buddy breathed for a while.
It was then that we heard the cacophonous splash and saw the thick cloud of bubbles shooting halfway to the bottom slightly to our right. From his tucked position inside the cannonball, emerged Jon. "What an entrance," I thought. Jon was really starting to become a ham. "Oh, whatever happened to the shy, unassuming, self-deprecating jock I used to know?" I laughed to myself.
Ron flinched, a little startled at first, but relaxed when he saw what was going on, waving as Jon swam down to us. Waving back at the blurry images in front of him, Jon held on to one of my straps as I offered him my secondary regulator, which he gratefully took. Jon stuck his hand out and Ron readily accepted it.
Unlike myself, Jon apparently wasn't at all worried about being low-key in front of Ron, at least initially, having opted for his favorite royal blue Speedos that he'd teased me with on our first day at the house. Ron, just as apparently, didn't seem at all worried about inspecting my boyfriend. "That's okay, though," I thought; nothing wrong with a little window shopping...just mind you don't touch the merchandise.
Jon really amazed me sometimes. Just this morning, he'd been worrying about the world-at-large knowing he was gay and then here he comes with this larger than life entrance, dressed in those Speedos. I don't know; I guess he had an exhibitionist streak in him, too. I knew from experience that once he got used to people and felt comfortable around them he'd come out of that shell he wore a lot...but this was a bit much.
After they finished shaking hands, Jon looked at me and pointed to himself. Pointing to the surface then to his watch, which he'd soon find out was NOT waterproof, he spread his fingers twice and made an eating motion with his hands. I figured he was going to go get lunch ready. I gave him the OK sign and let my hand trail over his leg as he headed topside. I pointed to my watch and indicated to Ron that we had about ten minutes, which worked out okay since we only had about five minutes of air left between us. After we paddled around a little more I pointed to the surface, got a thumbs up in reply and watched for a second or two as that nice ass powered those legs upward.
When we got topside, we saw Jon's Speedo lying on the lounge chair. I really hoped he was putting some clothes on.
"So how'd you like your first time?" I asked, a little tongue-in-cheek, as I started to unstrap my gear, helping Ron with his.
"That was just so incredibly awesome!" he said. "I've never felt anything so cool in my life!"
"Excellent!" I replied, starting to pick up on his energy. "I knew you'd like it once you got past that little blip at the beginning."
"Yeah, that wasn't too cool, was it? Thanks for shepherding me along," he said.
"Hey, don't worry about it," I said, swinging the tank off of Ron's shoulders, setting it on the pool deck. "Coulda happened to anyone," I told him again, trying to be conciliatory and reassuring.
"I've never felt that good before! It was just too totally cool!" he repeated with great animation. "Can we do it again?" asking in the excited manner of a small child after its first rollercoaster ride.
"Sure," I said, flashing my pearly whites. "...if the weather holds." The clear blue sky was starting to get increasingly infiltrated by the all too familiar rain clouds. At the rate they were coming on, it might start raining before the afternoon was over, if not sooner.
"Hmm," Ron said, studying the sky. "Maybe we'll luck out long enough."
"...hope so," I said. "Whadda ya say we go get showered and changed and see what's doin' for lunch," I suggested.
"Cool," Ron replied. "I'm starved."
"Yeah, we worked up an appetite, for sure."
"Oh, God, I've done it now," I thought to myself as I stayed motionless under the steamy water, leaning against the sweaty marble wall as I let the hot needles shoot against my lower back. Have you ever picked something up or moved a certain way and at the time you did it, you just knew it was wrong and you were going to pay for it later? Well, now it was payback time for me but I couldn't quite figure out what I'd done. The fingers of torment from a lacrosse injury were starting to dig their nails into my lower back and they usually stuck around for awhile when they visited. When I was in High School, I'd stupidly dived for a ball and twisted just the wrong way somehow as I hit the ground. Personally, I don't for the life of me understand how something that didn't feel like much at the time could be so damn troublesome but backs are peculiar things and since then it comes back to haunt..."haunt," I snorted, "There's a choice word for ya."...every now and then when I forget myself. After that, I just stuck with swimming. And yes, I knew I should put ice on it first but the water felt just too damn good to pass up. And yes, I knew I'll probably pay for THAT later, too, but at the moment, I didn't care.
It must've happened in the pool when I'd hurried over to yank Ron's emergency cord when he got in that bit of trouble. Maybe my reaction to his predicament was a little over the top but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. "Yep, that was it," I thought as my back spasmed slightly as if in confirmation. I must've twisted just the wrong way yet again with that tank on my back and it must've been just enough to pull something really good even though I didn't feel it at the time. It was going to fucking hurt like hell later on; I knew it. Damn, I hated when that happened. I was hoping the weather would cooperate long enough for me to get back in the pool for a little bit. The cooler water and some easy swimming around sometimes helped alleviate the pain.
I'd been under the spray long enough. I knew the guys were probably downstairs starving to death waiting for me so I shut it off and snagged the towel outside the glass door. After quaffing a couple of Advil from my travel case, I pulled on some shorts, a Polo, ran a brush through my hair and sat down to put on my Nike's. Oh, I shouldn't have done that so quickly. I felt a tear form at the edge of my eye as I finished tying them up, letting my foot drop to the floor and slowly, very slowly, standing up, trying to make sure I didn't give my back a chance to bitch and moan for not treating it right, because I knew that if I didn't, I was the one who was going to be bitching and moaning. And if Jon could be a little whiny sometimes, you ain't heard nothin' yet. I'm like the proverbial lion with the thorn in its paw. I'm an awful patient...real high maintenance. Jon'd love that, I'm sure.
Jon and Ron...sounds like a comedy team, doesn't it?...were already dressed and in the kitchen, waiting for me. Jon was standing in his favorite commanding spot behind the island with Ron sitting comfortably on the other side and the kitchen was fragrant with the smell of onions and peppers from some huge subs that Jon had picked up while he was out. They were both a half a beer ahead of me. Jon noticed me walking a little slower and more stiffly than normal and I saw both their eyes furrow with a bit of concern.
"Dude," Jon started. "S'up with you?"
"Yeah, man," Ron chimed in, "You okay."
"Well, no, actually," I said calmly. "I think I pulled something in my back."
"Oh, damn," Ron said.
"Oooo, that's gotta hurt, I know," Jon said. "What happened?"
I eased myself onto the stool next to Ron and accepted the beer that Jon held out. "I think I zigged when I shoulda zagged when Ron 'n I were horsin' around in the pool."
"Oh, man," Ron half gasped. "It's my fault. I am so sorry for that thing that happened, man!"
"Noooo, don't," I replied. "It's not your...," and I grimaced from the immediate and sharp pain in my lower back as I started to raise a hand to dispel Ron's guilt. "Oh, GOD," I cried out, immediately retracting my hand, hoping the pain would go away. It didn't. I jumped up from the stool, arching my back in agony and gritting my teeth as I growled from frustration with the pain and with the pain itself. I felt the tears forming at the corners of my eyelids as I squeezed them tight.
To his credit, Ron was there immediately, as much to make amends for his imagined transgression as just to help, and I felt his hands start slowly massaging the muscles in my back, digging his thumbs in slightly and working them in circles near my spine. It felt really good and seemed to help alleviate the stabbing pain. The warmth of his hands felt wonderful. To HIS credit, Jon pulled the sofa back from its spot a few feet and arranged the cushions on the floor.
"Ron, bring him around over here and lay him down flat," he said. Ron put a hand on my arm and started to help guide me over.
"Hey, guys..." I started.
"Hey, nothin'," Jon said. "Don't argue with your medical staff."
"Like he said," Ron agreed, cocking his thumb at Jon.
"Yeah, okay," I conceded. I didn't feel like arguing about it. Particularly when the medical staff was so cute. "Oh, God, this hurts," I said, easing down onto the cushions.
"Jon," Ron started, "Do you have any rubbing alcohol or something like that lying around anywhere?"
"Dunno," Jon replied. "I'll go see if my uncle's got anything," he said as he turned to rush upstairs to forage in the medicine cabinet.
Turning his attention back to me, Ron said, "C'mon, guy; let's get that shirt off so I can work on your back right."
"You really don't have to do this, Ron," I said in my most polite drawl. As you can imagine, my statement was the furthest thing from the truth at that point in time, but I was definitely in the mood to be fawned over a little just then.
"C'mon, tough guy," he said a bit more sternly. "...off with it," he said commandingly as he began to push the tee up over my body.
"Yes, sir," I said with a half-fake sigh and what I thought was just the right note of acquiescence in my voice.
My acting was rewarded by more slight but sharp stabs as Ron gingerly eased the shirt first off of one arm and then the other... "Oooww...Eeeee," I cried a little as I sucked in air through gritted teeth.
"Sorry, man."
"Don't worrEEEeeee...," I cried again as he finally pulled the shirt away as gently as he could, then pulling my arms back slowly and lay them at my sides. I sighed from the pain as I just tried to stay still. It felt good, though, when he knelt next to me and laid his palms on my back.
"Oh, man," he said. "Your lower back feels like a furnace in high gear. You are definitely torqued."
"Tell me all about it, babe," I said with just a hair of friendly condescension but trying to push the verbal envelope out just a millimeter or so further. We heard the sound of Jon's feet pounding the stairs and rushing though the Dining Room.
"There's nothing up there," he reported, a little winded. "I never saw a medicine cabinet so empty." He snatched his keys from the counter. "I'm gonna haveta make a drugstore run," he said, the words tripping over each other as they spilled out of his mouth. "Whadda we need?" he asked Ron.
"Doesn't matter," he said. "Liniment, massage oil, rubbing alcohol...whatever they got...ask the druggist, too."
"I'm on it," Jon said, nodding as he bounded out the door.
"Guess we're gonna have to make due for now," Ron said.
"He's gonna be a while," I noted. "I'm not even sure he knows where a drugstore is nearby."
"Actually, there's one about a mile up the road," Ron offered. "You must pass it on your way to the mall. I don't think he'll be too long."
"Yeah, if he kept his eyes open better than I obviously did," I remarked, wincing a little from a slight jab of pain.
I tried to relax but it wasn't easy. It was one of those times like we've probably all had at least once when if you stay very still and don't breath too much, the pain is somewhat bearable. I say that only half kiddingly. The cool, nubby clothed cushions did feel good against my skin, though. I was thankful for that. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel Ron move from his kneeling position next to me to a kneeling position astride me, his knees on either side of my hips, digging into the cushions. I didn't protest, especially when I felt his palms press lightly against my lower back, transmitting their warmth to me, slowly and gently soothing the nagging ache.
"Ron, I'm sorry for being a burden on your day off," I said, this time with genuine concern. "I didn't expect...," I started but stopped in mid-sentence by another hot, sharp stab in my lower back.
"Ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," came his soft, slow reply. "Right now I just want you to relaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaax," he continued in one of the softest, silkiest voices I'd ever heard as I felt his thumbs begin to work in slow, small circles.
"mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," was the only thing I could manage to say as I closed my eyes and burrowed my head into the cushion.
To Be Continued