Second Chance:
His Only Choice
Ryan Field
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SECOND CHANCE:
HIS ONLY CHOICE
By
RYAN FIELD
Chapter One
On Sunday nights, Lance Johnson didn't get home from work until almost midnight, partly
because it was his usual night to do the extra weekly cleaning in the pizza shop's kitchen and partly because
it was poker night for his partner of ten years, Sergio. As part owner of the pizza shop, Lance maintained
certain routines and kept detailed lists of things he had to do.
On this particular Sunday night, he scraped a speck of melted cheese from the wooden block next
to the cash register and sighed aloud wondering if he'd remembered to order more cardboard boxes on
Friday. The last time he'd forgotten to do that Sergio had to make a run to the next town and buy pizza
boxes from their competitor and Sergio hadn't smiled about this.
Lance wiped the wooden board clean with bleach solution and sighed again, making a mental note
to check his supply list before locking up that night. He glanced around the clean perfect kitchen looking
for one more thing to do, hoping to kill time. It was eleven fifteen and he only had to walk out the back
door in the kitchen, turn to the right, and climb up a flight of faded old deck stairs to get to the apartment he
shared with Sergio.
When he spotted a few crumbs on the brown tiled floor beneath one of the pizza ovens, he crossed
to the back and pulled a broom from a small closet near the sink so frayed at the bottom it turned sideways.
He took his time sweeping the crumbs and even bent down to see if there were more crumbs beneath the
oven. He could never predict how long Sergio's Sunday night poker games with his buddies would last. It
all depended on who was winning and who ran out of money first. If one of the guys was on a winning
streak the game would end at midnight and Lance could go to bed. If the winners were balanced they could
all wind up playing into the early hours of the morning.
After he swept, he went over the exterior of the already shiny pizza ovens with a wet cloth one
more time. Then he bleached the back kitchen stainless steel counters and double checked his order list
from Friday and found he had ordered the cardboard boxes after all. At five minutes to midnight, he
removed his white apron and hung it on a hook near the back door and glanced around one last time. He set
the burglar alarm and stepped out into the cold January night. The dumpsters overflowing with a weekend's
worth of garbage had become invisible to him by then. It wasn't as bad in the winter as it was in the
summer. The twenty-degree temperatures made everything feel cleaner and toned down the smell of rotten
tomatoes and partially eaten slices of pizza.
As he climbed the back stairs he heard the deep hollow voices of men laughing and joking around.
They played cards at the kitchen table, an old-fashioned affair with a pale green Formica top, chrome trim,
and green Naugahyde chairs…a dinette set…that dated back to the 1950's. Sergio had been promising him
for the past ten years they would move eventually to their own home and rent out the apartment above the
pizza shop. It wasn't that they didn't have the money. The pizza shop did well and Sergio was now part
owner of the local gym. It's just each time they reached the point where it was time to move Sergio found
another investment and promised they would move right after that. Sergio seemed comfortable in the
apartment; he rarely left town for longer than a day at a time.
At first, it was the time Sergio wanted to invest in the stock market. He'd received a tip from one
of his clients at the gym and he'd invested all their money in one stock claiming they would become
millionaires overnight. The stock failed and it took four years of scrimping and saving to replenish all
they'd lost. After that, Sergio wanted to invest in a landscape company that only planted fake shrubs and
plastic grass. They lost everything in that venture, too, and wound up working another four years to save up
enough for a home. And when they reached that point again, Sergio was offered the opportunity to invest in
the gym where he'd been a trainer for years and he literally begged Lance for permission to do this.
Unfortunately, they learned some gyms are not huge moneymakers and it takes years to get back an initial
investment. The only reason the owner had asked Sergio to invest was because his cash flow had been
dwindling to nothing. So Lance went back to working in the pizza shop seven days a week, scrimping and
saving for another shot at owning his own home again. He'd once owned a home with his first partner but
that seemed like another lifetime now.
At least they had the pizza shop, which wasn't the most glamorous business but always generated
an income. After Sergio's parents were killed in a freak auto accident that involved a donkey cart and a
loose goat while they were on a trip visiting family in Italy, Sergio inherited the pizza shop and he and
Lance moved right into the apartment over the shop where Sergio's parents had lived. This all happened the
first year they were together and Lance was still running a little bookshop in town that he'd been trying to
expand into a full time money generating small business. But then e-books started taking over, people
stopped buying print books as often, and Lance couldn't figure out a way to run both businesses at the same
time. So he took over the pizza shop and shuttered the little bookshop he'd loved so much. The pizza shop
was a sure thing; the bookshop was questionable. And Lance and Sergio were in no position to choose
glamour over reality. When Lance had left his first partner for Sergio, he'd left with nothing but the clothes
on his back.
Lance opened the back door of the apartment and entered the kitchen. The guys at the table all
turned and shouted in his direction. Sergio was at the head of the table, Sergio's best friend, Marco, was at
the other end, Joey and Mike were on the right, and a big guy who owned the auto body shop in town,
Frankie, was on the left.
"There's my hot little piece of ass," Sergio said, as he held the cards closer to his chest and looked
up at Lance.
Although things had changed a lot with gay people since they'd first met in 2012, Lance still felt
awkward when Sergio said things like this in front of other people. He sent Sergio a look and said, "Be
good."
Sergio belched, pressed his fist to his stomach, and said, "Get over here and sit on my lap, bitch.
You'll bring me luck." Then he looked at the other guys and said, "Did you ever see such a hot piece of ass
on a sixty year old."
"Very funny," Lance said, as he made his way to the refrigerator to get a small container of yogurt.
He hadn't eaten all day and he wanted something light. But he frowned at Sergio on the way and sent him a
quick glare. He hated when Sergio joked around about his age. He wasn't sixty, he was fifty. And people
told him all the time he looked more like forty. Sergio joked about his age because when they'd first met
Lance had lied about his age. He'd told Sergio he was thirty-five, when in reality he was forty. Though
Lance didn't know it, at the time he was going through a huge mid-life crisis, he'd been very frustrated with
his first partner, Davis, and he didn't think lying about his age would matter much. He'd used Sergio as a
personal trainer, and Sergio had been twenty-eight at the time. He thought Sergio was straight and he hadn't
planned on anything romantic. To this day there were times when Lance looked back at how the events of
his life had unfolded and wondered how he'd arrived where he was.
"Seriously, dude," Sergio said. "Get that hot ass over here and sit on my lap."
The other guys started to laugh. Marco said, "Give your husband what he wants."
Joey and Mike elbowed each other in the ribs and Mike said, "I'll bet he gives him plenty all the
time."
Lance knew they were only joking around, so he set the yogurt on the counter and walked over to
the table. In a dramatic gesture that was meant to be funny more than it was sexual, he ripped off his shirt,
lifted his leg, and straddled Sergio's waist. As he sat down on Sergio's lap, he arched his back and put his
arms around Sergio's shoulders. He ran his hands up and down Sergio's arms and shoulders in a slow,
seductive way. The other guys started laughing and hooting, egging him on, so Lance leaned forward and
kissed Sergio so hard on the lips Sergio dropped the cards and his arms fell limp at his sides.
Frankie pounded the table and said, "I'm next." A joke; Frankie was straight.
A moment later, Lance stood up and returned to the counter to get a spoon for his yogurt. One of
the guys patted his butt as he passed and another one punched Sergio in the arm and said, "You gay guys
are the lucky ones. My wife never does shit like that to me anymore."
Sergio picked up his cards and sat back with his shoulders squared. "That's because I've got me
one hot little bitch over there, man. He'll do anything I ask."
Lance made a face and said, "I'm going to bed now. I'll see you later, stud." Then he said
goodnight to the other guys, kissed Sergio on the top of the head, and went to the other end of the
apartment to the master bedroom.
He closed the door and set the yogurt down on the nightstand beside the bed Sergio's mother and
father had slept in for forty years. It was that big old heavy furniture with scrolls and carvings that always
made him a little nauseous. He removed all his clothes, climbed into bed, and switched the TV to the adult
only gay channel to watch gay porn. Even though what he'd just done to Sergio in front of the other guys
suggested they had an active, passionate sex life, Lance usually wound up jerking off alone. In the
beginning Lance and Sergio did nothing but have sex, but after the first two years it started to dwindle. And
by the seventh year it became almost non-existent.
They were legally married, and Sergio had been honest about his sexual needs during their sixth
year together. He said he loved Lance and wanted to remain married to him, but he also needed both men in
women in his life on the side. So they worked out an agreement to have an open relationship where they
could both take on other lovers on the side and in many ways it seemed to work for Sergio. But it was an
agreement Lance found tiresome because he'd reached the point in his life where he was more interested in
a home, one man, and taking a little time off to enjoy the smaller things in life he'd never been able to enjoy
when he was younger. And there were times when he passed the space where his old bookshop in town had
been ten years earlier and he felt like sitting down and sobbing for no reason at all.
He never did that. He'd made his choices in life and he never complained about them to anyone.
And it wasn't that he was unhappy either. He just wondered sometimes what it would have been like if he'd
remained with Davis, his first partner, instead of running off with Sergio, looking for the kind of passion in
the middle of his life that he now knew rarely lasted longer than the trite blink of an eye.
That night Lance chose a gay porn film about gang banging. He'd never had any particular kinks
or fetishes, but there was something about one guy getting tagged by a dozen or more other hot young guys
that made him harder than anything else. This one turned out to be better than most because it focused more
on long shots than close ups. He'd never been able to understand why so many of the people who made
porn seemed to think viewers were interested in watching a close up of a penis sliding in and out of an
asshole for fifteen or twenty minutes at a time.
That night, it only took him about fifteen minutes to get off and by the time he'd switched to an old
sitcom rerun Sergio had entered the bedroom and he'd already removed his pants. Lance crawled to the end
of the bed where Sergio was removing his shirt and he reached for Sergio's dick. He grabbed it gently and
sucked it soft for a minute, and then he looked up at Sergio and said, "I haven't given you a blow job in a
long time. Why don't you lie down on your back and let me do it for you now; just like I used to do it." He
was still horny. He could still see the one guy in the film getting gang banged by a group of frat house
dudes.
Sergio grabbed the top of his head and yawned. "I'm kind of tired, man. Maybe in the morning."
He said that all the time and Lance was getting sick and tired of it. "I should have gone out and
blown the other guys. I'll bet they would have liked it."
Sergio laughed and said, "Seriously, man. I don't think they're gone yet. I'll go down and get them.
I'll bring them back up and you can knock them off one after the other. I saw the way Mike and Joey were
looking at your ass. They can take turns fucking you, too."
Lance knew that tone. Sergio had a sardonic streak. "Go get them. I'm game. I'll take good care of
them all."
Sergio shook his head and climbed into bed. Although his hair had thinned out a little, he still had
the stocky, muscular body he'd had when they'd first met. "Shut the fuck up and go to sleep, you old whore.
I'll fuck you in the morning so hard I'll put your head through the wall." Then he turned over, pulled the
covers to his neck, and turned out the light on his nightstand.
In the morning, Lance climbed out of bed and found Sergio in the kitchen making coffee. It looked
as if Sergio had showered and dressed for the day and Lance made no attempt to seduce him again.
Lance sat down at the table and said, "You're up early today." Sergio usually slept until ten or
eleven and went to the pizza shop on Monday mornings around noon. Though the business had belonged to
Sergio's parents, Lance had wound up taking over most of the full time responsibilities. If it had been up to
Sergio, he would have sold the pizza shop and invested the money in something even more ridiculous than
plastic landscaping.
Sergio pressed a button on the coffee maker and said, "I thought I'd get up and open the shop for
you today. You can take your time. You haven't been to the gym for a while. You should go and spend the
morning there."
Lance smiled. "Well, thank you. I'd like that. I haven't had a Monday morning off in a long time.
Are you sure?"
Sergio set a cup of black coffee in front of him and said, "Yeah, man. I want to do it. And that new
part time guy we hired is coming in this morning." Then he kissed him on the forehead and turned toward
the back door so he could open the pizza shop on time for the morning crowd.
On mornings like this, Lance realized he didn't have the worst life in the world. Although nothing
in his life had turned out the way he'd planned, Sergio didn't abuse him, he'd always been honest, and there
was something about being married to a strong, alpha man that Lance had always liked. In a more refined
way, Lance's first partner, Davis, had been just as strong. So Lance took his time finishing his coffee that
morning, made another cup, and then took the first long hot bath he'd taken in months.
After he put on his nicest workout clothes, he went down to the pizza shop to see if Sergio needed
anything before he left for the gym. But when he entered through the back door he caught a glimpse of
Sergio making out with the new part time college student they'd recently hired. The younger guy's pants
were down to his hips. Sergio's hands were all over the college student's ass and Sergio was kissing the
twenty-one year old the same way he used to kiss Lance. For a moment, Lance stood in the doorway
watching, as the pain in his stomach came and went. They had an open marriage, but one of the things upon
which they'd both agreed was that neither of them would ever take anyone home and get emotionally
involved. But more than that, they would never, under any circumstances, fool around with the help.
And yet as much as this hurt and as much as it violated their agreement, Lance felt an unusual
numb feeling deep down inside he found hard to explain. So instead of pounding through the door waving
his fists and screaming, he walked into the kitchen quietly and said, "I just wanted to see if you needed
anything. Obviously, you're getting all you need right now. I'll leave. I don't want to disturb you boys." He
glanced at the young guy's naked ass and frowned.
The young college student gaped at him with swollen red lips and pulled up his pants.
Sergio jumped back and said, "It's not what it looks like."
Lance smiled and walked into the front part of the kitchen that was exposed to customers. On his
way, he waved and said, "It's okay, Sergio. I'll leave you alone." He knew his apathy would bother Sergio
even more than if he'd gone berserk. He knew how it grated on Sergio's last nerve to dismiss him
completely.
"Wait," Sergio said. He came up from behind and grabbed Lance's arm. "I never did anything with
him before. I swear."
Lance turned and looked at him. He'd obviously planned to meet the guy that morning and his
gesture to open the shop for Lance had been an excuse. But Lance spoke with an even voice, and he didn't
have to force himself to do this. He still felt numb, as if he'd made his choices and was prepared to live with
them. "It's okay. I just thought we weren't supposed to do things like this at home, is all. I thought we were
supposed to be discreet. But now that I know I have permission to play around with the help I'll hire
someone for myself and he can fuck me over the trash cans out back." He'd never actually taken another
lover. He'd agreed to Sergio's terms and the open marriage, but he still hadn't actively gone out to find sex
with other men.
"I'll fire him," Sergio said. "I made a mistake."
"I don't want to talk about this now," Lance said. "We'll talk later tonight." Thanks to their
agreement of an open marriage it was a difficult argument to make. Sergio wasn't really cheating, not in a
classic sense. He'd just broken a rule of the agreement.
Before Sergio had a chance to reply, he glanced over Lance's shoulder and tightened his fists.
Then he pushed Lance aside, ran to the front of the shop waving his fist, and said, "There he goes again,
that little fucker. If I ever get him I'll break his fucking legs."
He was talking about the UPS man. For the past twenty years the same tall, slim, dark-haired UPS
man had been speeding up and down the streets of their little town in a quest to make all his deliveries
earlier than the day before. Lance barely knew this guy because most of Lance's deliveries came through
the post office. And in his mad rush to deliver, the UPS guy usually just left boxes outside doors. Every
morning without fail he would zip past the pizza shop with a screech, and then speed back on the opposite
direction a few minutes later. He'd run over dogs, cats, and even hit a deer one summer. He'd clipped
mailboxes, trees, and rear view mirrors on occasion. How he hadn't run over a person was either pure luck
or unusual skill. People would complain to UPS about him, he would slow down for a few weeks, and then
he would return to his dangerous speeds as if no one had ever noticed it. Most people in town were used to
him by then. And Sergio usually woke up after the UPS man had made his run so he didn't see him all the
time. But every time Sergio saw him speeding up and down the streets he threatened to pull him out of the
truck and break his legs.
Lance didn't feel like discussing the UPS man, or anything else with Sergio that morning. He
walked to the front door and said, "I'll see you later. I need to get out of here."
"Don't leave like this," Sergio said. "I'm sorry. I'll fire him right now. I love you."
"I'm not mad," Lance said. "I'm just tired. And I want to get out of here and forget about
everything for a while. I need time to think."
"I'll drive you to the gym," Sergio said.
"It's a nice morning and I feel like walking," Lance said. Sergio's car made him more nauseous
than the old bed upstairs…a vintage red Corvette from the 1970's that Lance had always thought was the
epitome of bad taste and 1970's design.
Sergio followed him out to the parking lot and said, "Then call me when you're finished and I'll
come over and pick you up."
Lance continued walking toward the road and said, "I'll walk home. I don't mind."
Sergio shouted this time. "I'm coming over and that's that. I'll be there by noon. I love you."
Lance stopped in the middle of the street and he turned all the way around to face Sergio. But as
he turned he saw Sergio make a fist and lift it high above his head. He watched Sergio's lips move as if he
were trying to say something. Then Lance heard a loud swish followed by a thump. After that, he felt as if
he were suspended in mid-air, floating slowly toward a puffy cloud so close he could reach out and touch it.
When he looked down, the last thing he saw was Sergio in the middle of the parking lot on his knees, with
tears streaming down his face, pounding the pavement with both fists. He tried to call down and ask Sergio
what was wrong, but he couldn't find his voice.
Chapter Two
"Welcome," said a deep voice from the other side of a room so unusual Lance didn't know where
to look first.
Lance blinked a few times and focused on a long white table with curved legs that had been
carved with scrolls, swirls, and delicate ball and claw feet. The tapered white legs were so subtle Lance
wasn't sure they could support the athletic young man sitting in the middle of the table. The young man was
nude, except for a generic jock strap Lance had seen all his life in locker rooms. He was leaning back on his
palms to support his upper body, and his beefy legs dangled freely over the front of the table.
"It's nice to meet you, Lance," said the young man. He reminded Lance of a professional athlete
he'd read about in a magazine. He couldn't remember the guy's name but he'd never forgotten his chest
muscles or the way his arms bulged in the photo.
"Where am I?" Lance said, with a timid voice. He glanced around and saw nothing but mirrored
walls, a silvery frosted floor, but no ceiling. As he glanced up, he gaped at the bluest sky he'd ever seen.
But as his gaze went down and he caught a glimpse of his nude body in one of the mirrors, he gasped and
covered his private parts. "I'm naked."
"My name is Rory," said the stocky young man. He hopped down from the white table, put his
hands on his hips, and smiled. In a standing position the bulge in his jock strap protruded even more than
when he'd been seated. It stuck out so deliberately he seemed forced to wear the waistband lower around
his pelvis, which in turn exposed a generous amount of brown pubic hair.
Although he should have been shaking, Lance took a deep breath and said, "How do you know my
name? And what am I doing here?" The last thing he remembered was looking down at Sergio kneeling in
the parking lot of his pizza shop.
Rory sent him a long, seductive glance and said, "You're in The Department of Second Chances,
I'll be your guide for the short time you're here, and you're here for a specific reason."
"Where are my clothes? I look different." He noticed he didn't look the same either. Although he
still looked good at fifty years old, his reflection in the mirrors appeared more like he'd looked at forty
when he'd first met Sergio and started working out regularly at the gym.
"You don't need clothes here, Lance," Rory said, taking a few steps forward. "Clothing was part of
your old world. And the people who come here always look exactly the way they did at the best times of
their lives. In your case, although I will admit you always looked good, the best time of your life physically
was when you were in your early forties."
Lance closed his eyes and shook his head. At first, he thought this might all be a dream, or maybe
he'd lost his mind. He'd been under a great deal of stress with work lately and he'd been having vivid
dreams at least three or four nights a week. In his case, they weren't nightmares. They were sex dreams
where he got to live out many of the fantasies he'd never mentioned to anyone aloud, most of which
involved gang bang scenes.
He sent Rory a confused glance and said, "I don't understand."
"You're dead, my friend."
"Dead?"
"Do you remember crossing the road on your way to the gym?" Rory asked.
"Yes."
"The speeding UPS guy got you, buddy," Rory said. "But you never felt a thing. I usually handle
this disclosure with more sensitivity, but I thought you'd appreciate my honesty up front." He took another
step forward and adjusted the bulge in his jock. He seemed to have grown thicker and longer.
Lance laughed. "This is rich. I have to admit this is one of the best dreams so far. I thought the one
where the hockey team fucked me was detailed. But this is one I'll never forget."
As if he wanted to prove this wasn't a dream, Rory walked right up to Lance and grabbed his right
hand. Then he guided Lance's hand to the bulge between his legs and said, "Touch me. Go ahead. You'll
see this isn't a dream. Frankly, you're not creative enough to dream in that kind of detail."
Lance hesitated for a second, and then he squeezed Rory's jock strap a few times. When he felt
Rory get harder in his hand, he jumped back, covered his mouth his with both hands, and said, "It never felt
that way before in my dreams. I never actually felt anything." In his vivid sex dreams his contact with other
men often resembled an abstract moment to moment altered state of being where his senses didn't seem
real. When he touched a man…or men…in one of those dreams he never actually felt them. It was more
like going through the motions without actually having the experience. And he would slip from scene to
scene without any warning whatsoever, often observing himself in these dreams without participating.
When he realized he'd been standing there this long with Rory and nothing had changed he felt a lump in
his throat.
"Touch me again," Rory said. "It's real this time. You're not sleeping, and this isn't something from
which you'll wake."
He remembered the thump he'd felt in the middle of the road, and then the push that sent him
airborne. If he really was dead, it must have been the UPS truck hitting him. Though he'd felt an odd sense
of discomfort for an instant, he'd had blind pimples on his backside that had hurt more than getting hit by
the truck. He stepped forward and squeezed Rory again and felt his full erection sticking through the jock
strap. "This really isn't a dream. It is real."
"There's no need to be afraid," Rory said. He pushed his pelvis forward, encouraging Lance to do
more.
Lance tilted his head sideways and looked into Rory's eyes. "I'm actually not afraid. But I have a
bad feeling I should be."
Rory shrugged. "It depends. Everyone's different. The woman before you freaked out so much I
had to call for support. She wasn't ready for us yet."
Lance looked down and noticed the head of Rory's dick pushing upward toward the wide elastic
waistband of the jock strap. It looked so confined and uncomfortable and adorable Lance couldn't resist his
next move. But first, he looked up at Rory and smiled. "Can I take it out?" He'd never actually spoken to
anyone in his dreams either.
Rory laughed and caressed his face. "You can do whatever you want to me."
With his left hand, Lance pulled the elastic waistband away from Rory's lower abdomen, and with
his right, he reached into the warm jock strap, wrapped his fingers around as much as he could, and gently
pulled it out. Then he looked up again at Rory and said, "Now that's much better."
"For someone who hasn't had much experience with other men you certainly are comfortable with
me," Rory said. "I thought you might be shy."
"How do you know about my experience with men?" Lance asked. The truth was he hadn't been
with a lot of men. He'd been with his first partner, Davis, for twenty years and he'd met Davis fresh out of
college. He's always been monogamous, at least right up to the time he met and fell in love with Sergio.
He'd never cheated on Sergio either, and they had an open marriage. There had been a few men before
Davis and Sergio, but nothing Lance considered important. His experiences with those men in college had
never amounted to anything more than making out in the backseat of a car, an unreciprocated blow job
some guy had once given him, and a few harmless sexual experiences in gay bars.
"At The Department of Second Chances we know everything about you," Rory said. "Take off the
jock strap for me. I'd rather be naked like you."
Rory release Sergio's erection and reached for the waistband of the jock with both hands. As he
slid the jock down Rory's hips and legs, Lance went down to his knees so he could remove it altogether.
When Rory was as naked as Lance, he looked down at Lance and said, "That's much better."
Lance rested his palms on Rory's thighs and licked his lips. Rory's erection was even with his
mouth and he could smell the gentle masculine scent coming from between Rory's legs. He closed his eyes
and inhaled for a moment, then he looked up at Rory and said, "If I'm dead this isn't cheating on Sergio, is
it?" Even with the open marriage agreement, he'd always felt as if he would be cheating on Sergio if he
took another lover…probably because the agreement hadn't been his idea.
"No," Rory said. "You're not cheating on anyone. You're free to do whatever you want and guilt
has no meaning here."
Lance licked his lips again and said, "Well in that case…"
He opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the head. Unlike the men he'd sucked in his
dreams, he could taste and feel Rory. His head went forward and he pressed his tongue against the bottom
and sucked without making a sound. He had to concentrate on what he was doing because Rory filled every
last inch of his mouth and he didn't want his teeth to graze him. But no matter how hard he concentrated he
couldn't seem to take the entire length into his mouth without choking. He tried, but he could only get
three-quarters of it past his lips. For an instant, he went all the way down, felt Rory's pubic hair against his
nose, and tried to remain like that for a minute. Then he started choking and a tear stung his eye. So he had
to pull back and suck as much as he could take without gagging.
Although he still felt odd, and this Department of Second Chances place made no sense to him,
sucking Rory's cock felt so natural and right he continued without stopping until Rory finally reached for
his head with both hands and said, "We have to move forward. I have a little surprise for you."
"A Surprise?"
Rory inserted two fingers in his mouth, inhaled, and let out one of those piercing whistles Lance
had never been able to do. As Rory helped Lance stand up, Lance heard deep voices in the distance. The
voices came from a remote foggy part of the room beyond the white table. A moment later, naked young
men started loping into the room, talking dirty, joking and shoving each other around, acting as if they were
in a locker room.
Lance put his arm around Rory and leaned closer to him. He couldn't call what he was
experiencing fear, but he wasn't sure what to expect and he felt safe with Rory.
Rory put his arm around Lance and said, "Don't worry. These guys are what you've been dreaming
about all your life. You should know that by now."
Lance gulped. "You know about those fantasies, too?" He'd never told anyone his fantasy of being
taken by a large group of young men. He'd always kept that private because he'd believed everyone should
have at least one secret no one else knew about.
"You're going to love this," Rory said. "These are the men you've been dreaming about all your
life."
Lance watched four strong young men set a mattress down in the middle of the silvery floor. The
mattress had a few stains, it looked frayed at the corners, and there was even a hole where it was losing
stuffing just like the unkempt mattress in his fantasies. He pressed his palm to Rory's chest and asked, "Are
you serious about this? I'm not sure I can do it. After all, there's a difference between fantasy and reality.
There are a lot of men over there." Each time he glanced toward the men he saw another one he hadn't
noticed earlier. They seemed to come in all sizes, shapes, types, and looks. There were men from different
ethnicities with darker skin tones, and men with lighter Nordic appeal. A few had red hair, some had hair
hanging below their shoulders, and others had completely shaved heads and tattoos. One of the men had
such a long scruffy beard he reminded Lance of a cave man.
Rory gestured to the mattress and said, "Just go over there, get down on the mattress, and the guys
will do the rest."
"Oh, I'm not sure," Lance said. He noticed they all had different dicks, too. Some were average,
some were short and thick, and many were even longer and thicker than Rory's. "A few of those guys could
hurt me."
Rory took his hand and led him to the mattress. The young guys who were about to gang bang him
had gathered around and formed a long line, as if already waiting their turn. When they saw Lance, they
started calling his name, waving their fists, and grabbing their dicks. Rory pointed to the mattress and said,
"If you need me, I'll be here watching the whole thing. I have to admit that I've been looking forward to this
for a while." He rubbed his palms together and sent Lance a pervy smile. "It's not every day someone with
your fantasy comes here."
"If I want to stop, I can?" Lance asked. He glanced at the rowdy young men and frowned.
"Just let me know and I'll tell them to stop," Rory said. He patted Lance's ass and pushed him
toward the eager young men waiting for him on the mattress. "You're going to love this."
So Lance shrugged and stepped on the mattress. As he went down on his hands and knees, one
guy shouted, "Look at that hot ass." Another guy said, "That's one hot bitch." And yet another said, "Get
me some of that tight ass." In Lance's fantasies the men who had gang banged him always worshipped him,
but in this harmless, degrading way. It wasn't humiliation in the truest sense, but the overall intention was
for Lance to submit to aggressive men who objectified him in a controlled way.
After the first ten, Lance lost count. At one point, a muscular young man with big dark hands
grabbed Lance's waist, turned him around, and lowered him on to his back. He fucked Lance as Lance's
legs dangled over his shoulders. When he finished, a young man with reddish brown hair took his turn and
fucked Lance sideways. By the time the last group of guys took their turns team tagging him, Lance was
sprawled out face down on the mattress with his arms and legs splayed so wide it looked as if he were
about to make upside down snow angels.
The last guy pulled out and slapped Lance's ass hard. Rory walked over to the mattress, reached
for Lance's hand, and helped him stand up. As Rory placed his palm at the small of Lance's back and
guided him to the long white table, a few guys who had just fucked Lance picked up the mattress and
headed back toward the same section of the room where they'd appeared.
Lance sent them a backward glance and said, "I thought I would enjoy that more. Don't get me
wrong. It was fun. But it's all so casual and unemotional here."
"Not exactly," Rory said. He grabbed Lance by the waist and lifted him up so he could sit on the
table. Then he jumped up and sat beside him. "I haven't mentioned the real reason you're here. What just
happened was only you getting a chance to live out your fantasy. It's like a bonus. But it's not all that
important."
Lance laughed. "That's easy for you to say. I just got pumped by more men than I can even count
and I need to use a bathroom." All those men had left him a mess and he wanted to clean up.
"You don't need a bathroom," Rory said. "There won't be enough time."
"What's next?" He felt a thump in his chest. "I don't think I can take on any more guys today."
Rory turned and sent him a stern look. "The main reason you're here has nothing to do with sex.
You're here because you've been selected to go back to your life and get a second chance."
"You're joking."
"I wouldn't joke about that," Rory said. "It's not complicated, so pay attention. You're going to get
a chance, if you want the chance, to return to the most pivotal time in your life. It's the time when you made
a choice, and that choice affected the outcome of your entire life. In most cases, people return to their
youths. But your case it is a little different because the most pivotal point in your life happened when you
were forty. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
Lance didn't have to think twice. "Of course I know." He'd led an uneventful life until he was
forty, and he hadn't been prepared for what had happened.
"You don't have to go," Rory said.
"What happens if I don't go back?"
Rory shrugged. "I can't disclose that. I'm sorry but it's one step at a time here. I stick to the rules."
"Let me get this straight," Lance said, "I get a chance to go back and redo my life. I can do things
differently if I want to."
"Not exactly," Rory said. "It's not that simple. If you choose to go back for a second chance there's
no guarantee you won't make the same choice twice. That's really up to you. You won't be aware you're
getting this second chance."
"That's not fair," Rory said. "Now that I know all the things I know about life I should be able to
draw from my experiences."
"Nothing in life is fair," Rory said. "And you're no exception to the rule. Everyone gets their
chances and everyone is treated equally. But sometimes we like to offer second chances where there were
unusual circumstances."
"I'm not sure I want to do that," Lance said. "If I do everything the same all over again I'm only
repeating myself."
"Most people get some kind of sign the second time, so you might not repeat yourself," Rory said.
"It's not anything obvious, and sometimes people ignore their intuition. But most of the time it works out
well. The only risk you run is doing the same thing twice. And if that's an issue you are by no means forced
to take your second chance."
"Can I think it over for a day or two?" Lance asked. He knew if he took the second chance he
would be returning to the time when he'd first met Sergio. His first partner, Davis, had been away on
business so often and he'd been so lonely.
"No, there's no time," Rory said. "You have to decide now."
He thought for a moment. He remembered the passion he'd first experienced when he'd met
Sergio. Then he remembered the pain all over Davis's face when he'd told Davis he was leaving to be with
Sergio. He hadn't seen a grown man with such a horrified expression since then. And yet, through all the
pain, he'd loved Sergio with all his heart.
"We don't have much time," Rory said. "You have to decide."
Lance squared his back and said, "What do I have to do?"
"Close your eyes," Rory said. "You'll never remember a thing that happened here."
Lance closed his eyes and said, "Wish me luck. I have a feeling I'm going to need it. I'm not even
sure what I would choose right now, and I'm aware of everything. I loved both of those men very much,
and my life wasn't easy with either of them."
Chapter Three
In the year 2012, Lance's little bookshop was the last one of its kind for miles. Lance had known it
would be a risky business when he'd opened it twenty years earlier. Back then huge corporate bookshops
that sold everything from stuffed animals to scented candles had begun to pop up in malls, which made it
difficult for smaller bookshops to compete.
Some people Lance knew would have said his business timing was as off as his taste in books. He
tended to look down on the more commercial books that involved sensationalism and exploitation. And it
didn't stop there. Some called him an outright, unapologetic literary snob. If a book was on Oprah
Winfrey's Book Club list he usually refused to carry the book in his shop. This led many of his mainstream
customers to gaze at him with blank stares when they asked for a particular book and he would reply, "We
don't carry that sort of thing here, but we have a wonderful selection of current and vintage fiction, and
non-fiction, please feel free to look around and read as much as you like."
At the time, he knew one thing for certain: his little bookshop would be safe because he'd opened
it in a small trendy tourist town. He might not get the foot traffic the large corporate bookshops had during
the week. But on weekends thousands of people traveled to New York's Hudson River Valley for day trips,
weekend excursions, and holidays and he knew he'd get that weekend foot traffic just by opening his front
door.
He also had a partner, Davis Fisher, who worked as vice-president for a large pharmaceutical
company and Davis brought home six figures a year. They'd met the summer Lance had graduated from
college with a degree in English and a minor in art history. Though Lance had read all the classics, and he
could tell the difference between a Sandro Botticelli and Fra' Flippo Lippi at a glance, he didn't know much
about making a viable living. Davis was ten years old than Lance and at the time they'd met Davis was
ready to settle down and begin his life. When Davis suggested to Lance they open a small business together
instead of Lance looking for work with an English degree, Lance accepted the offer without even thinking
twice about it.
He'd always wanted to own a small bookshop and he'd fallen so deeply in love with Davis he
knew he wanted to build a life with him without a hint of reservation. He loved the way a book smelled and
felt in his hands as much as he loved the way Davis held him in his arms and kissed him. So Lance cashed
in the government bonds he'd inherited from his grandfather and Davis matched him with money from his
savings account. Best of all, the little bookshop provided Davis with the tax write-off for which he'd been
looking.
In other words, Lance discovered there's always a hidden story with small businesses that last
longer than five years, and very rarely does the story involve financial success. Neither of them ever
expected the bookshop to become a viable working business on which they could survive. Davis did not
quit his job in corporate America to live his dream of opening the clichéd small bookshop. Davis loved his
job so much he smiled when he told anyone what he did for a living. They didn't expect to make a lot of
money with the bookshop. They'd been realistic about the bookshop from the start when they'd decided
they would not take credits cards or debit cards. They only took cash and because Lance worked all of the
hours the only overhead they had to worry about was the commercial space they rented in town which
included all utilities. When they took vacations, they put up a sign in the front window apologizing for the
inconvenience and wrote down the date they would reopen. They weren't just an indie bookshop, they were
as independent as any small business can get.
As the years passed, Lance watched more small businesses come and go around him than he cared
to recall. Middle aged women with divorce settlements would invest everything they had in high end linen
shops only to shutter and fold two years later and go back to nursing school. Men who had burned out in
corporate America by the time they were forty would cash in retirement plans to invest in gifts shops and
they would lose it all in less than a year sometimes. One poor soul took the inheritance his grandmother had
left him and invested it in an art gallery that only sold novelties from Noah's lost arc and he wound up
making a midnight move his second year in business because he couldn't pay the rent. They all had one
thing in common: they started out with vim and vigor and ended up leaving with bitter regrets. Lance had
stopped getting friendly with them. It was too painful to watch.
But the small bookshop provided a nice cash income for Lance and the tax benefits for Davis he
so desperately needed. As a couple, they fell into a comfortable routine and became active in local charities
and town functions. They adopted two pugs, drove BMW's, and bought a big old farm house at the edge of
town they renovated themselves. They went to Provincetown, MA in the summer, Fort Lauderdale, FL in
the winter, and took quick excursions to Palm Springs, CA to visit old friends every spring.
In many ways the irony of owning a unique indie bookshop often contradicted the clichéd lives
they led. But Lance always justified this by telling himself he was providing a service at the bookshop for
people they couldn't get anywhere else.
Then the big corporate bookshops started to shutter their doors one after the other and Lance didn't
fully understand why at first. He still saw his steady weekend tourist traffic in his little bookshop and he
hadn't made a single change in twenty years. His regulars kept returning and a few of his customers from as
far away as Baltimore made his bookshop a destination point.
But even though he hadn't lost any foot traffic, he couldn't understand why his sales had continued
to drop since 2010. The restaurants were thriving in town. The ice cream shops had lines a block long. And
yet Lance often found himself without the cash in his pockets he'd come to expect after a long holiday
weekend. He noticed customers even stopped asking him to order special books they couldn't find
anywhere else.
In 2012 he heard something that made him stand back and press his palm to his stomach. He'd just
opened the front doors on Friday of Labor Day weekend and two women who looked like part of the bed
and breakfast crowd entered while he was opening a thermos of gourmet coffee he had prepared at home
because he couldn't find better coffee anywhere in town.
The one woman picked up a book and said to the other, "I've been dying to read this. I heard a
discussion about it on NPR."
At first, Lance smiled. He'd found this experimental novel through an article he'd read in The Paris
Review and he'd ordered several dozen copies hoping other people would want to read it. He'd carefully
set up a display in the middle of his shop, stacking and angling the books a certain way to attract attention,
hoping people would notice it and stop to check it out.
But he stopped smiling when the other woman looked at the price of the book and said, "Twenty-
nine ninety-nine? That's highway robbery. I read it. I loved it. I bought it in digital for half that price and I
have it on my e-reader. I'll let you borrow my e-reader. Save yourself some money and buy a new blouse. I
only read on my iPhone now."
The woman who had been thinking of purchasing the book frowned and said, "I'm not sure about
e-readers and e-books. It sounds so complicated, and I like the smell of a book."
Lance smiled again. The smell of a book had always reminded him of the tweedy smell in the
public library he'd gone to as a child. He'd been hearing about e-books and he'd never thought they would
actually be taken seriously.
But the other woman laughed and said, "A book smells like dust. Trust me, once you start reading
e-books you'll never go back. And if I can figure it out, anyone can. I'm a tech idiot. I not only save money
now by reading e-books, I also get to take my library wherever I go. I have the e-reader in my suitcase back
at the Inn. You can start reading tonight."
The woman put the print book down and shrugged. "If you say so I guess I'm willing to try e-
books, but I can't promise anything." Then she looped her arm through her friend's and turned to leave for
the dress shop next door.
Lance took his coffee and moved behind a tall bookcase near the front desk. He didn't want them
to know he'd overheard them talking. For the first time in twenty years he felt a sharp pain in his stomach
when he thought about what e-books might do to his wonderful little bookshop. It was more about his
lifestyle and the daily routine he'd grown to love now than it was about selling books.
When he went home that night he talked about all this with Davis over dinner. "I don't know what
I'm going to do. That's why all the big bookstores are going out of business. These people are all reading
fucking e-books now."
Davis smiled and smoothed out the black linen napkin across his lap. "I think you're over-reacting
a little. It's not like everyone is going to stop reading print books all at once. Calm down."
Lance shook his head. His stomach had been twisted since he'd heard the two women talking
earlier that morning. "I don't think so. I have to come up with something else to put in the store with the
books or we're going under. Trust me on this, I have a bad feeling." He didn't mention this in detail to
Davis, but he'd asked a few more customers how they felt about e-books and two of them pulled out
iPhones, opened their digital libraries, and showed him the latest e-book they were reading. One woman he
asked, an older woman in her late seventies, made his jaw drop when she told him she only read e-books
because she could adjust the size of the print to suit her bad eyes. Then he pulled his own iPhone out of his
briefcase, downloaded a free app where he could buy e-books, and checked one out for himself. This made
him feel even worse. He thought he would hate reading on his phone. But when he found how simple and
comfortable it was he gulped and put his phone back in his briefcase.
Davis reached for more wine and said, "If you think you need to put something else in the store,
it's fine with me. It's your call."
Then Davis drank his wine, dismissed the topic altogether, and left Lance wanting to throw the
wine bottle across the room. Lance wanted someone to tell him what to do and to make everything all right
again. But Davis did what he always did: he smiled and left it all up to Lance to figure out.
Although Lance didn't mention how he felt about this to Davis, he brought his feelings to bed with
him that night. They hadn't slept together in almost a week. Davis's job required a great deal of travel and it
often felt as if their lives revolved around his business trips. That week he'd traveled to France for a trade
show he usually attended the same time each year. In the twenty years they'd been together Lance had
learned to depend on Davis's business trips to tell what time of year it was. In March, Davis went to
something in San Francisco. In June it was Frankfurt. There were others, too, and in between all this he
took regular domestic trips to cities like Boston, Atlanta, and Chicago. There were times when Lance
wondered what it would be like to have that kind of freedom. He hadn't been out of Hudson River Valley or
his little shop alone since they'd met.
After Lance fluffed up the dog bed and got the pugs settled for the night, he glanced at the king
sized bed where Davis was sprawled out naked and he sighed. They always had sex after Davis had been
away for more than three days and that night he didn't feel like doing anything but crawling into bed and
watching TV. But he noticed that Davis was naked on top of the covers and he was holding the remote in
one hand and his dick in the other. Though ten years older, Davis still had the firm lean body and tight
muscles he'd had in his thirties and forties thanks to years of working out in hotel gyms while he traveled.
In many ways, Davis had grown even sexier now that he had a few strands of white around his temples.
There had been a time when Lance would have taken one look at his partner sprawled out naked
on the bed and he would have ripped off his clothes and jumped into bed with him. But that night he
walked over to a wing chair near the fireplace, removed his clothes slowly, and climbed into bed in his
underwear.
As he pulled the covers up to his chin, Davis sent him a glance and said, "Why don't you sit on my
lap for a little while." Then he tapped his thighs and stretched his legs to the end of the bed.
Lance forced a smile and glanced down at the erection that had formed between Davis's legs.
Davis held the bottom half and there had to be about four inches protruding through his fist. "Aren't you
tired?" he asked, looking closer at Davis's groin.
Davis stroked and said, "I'm wide awake. Sit on my lap."
Although he wasn't really in the mood that night, he'd always found Davis's naughty moods both
harmless and adorable. So he pulled back the covers, pulled off his underwear, and leaned over to get a
better look at the way Davis had shaved his pubic hairs. He ran his finger across the little line of dark black
hair and said, "You didn't leave much at all this time. You're practically bald." Lance had mentioned to
Davis many times he preferred a little public hair to none at all. He liked men who were more natural,
smelled a little rougher, and spent less time primping.
"It makes me feel younger," Davis said. "I found a few gray hairs down there." He pointed to his
crotch and laughed.
Lance pushed Davis's hand away from the erection and he took it in his right hand. He kissed the
tip and said, "I think it's sexy." He licked Davis's smooth balls and said, "This is nice, but I like your fuzzy
balls, too." He knew how much Davis liked it when he talked this way, especially when he softened his
voice and made it sound a little effeminate.
Davis spread his legs wider and said, "You should talk. You bleach yours."
"I like to feel blond all over," Lance said, in an even lighter tone. "I thought you liked it." He'd
started having his hair bleached in his mid-thirties. He had naturally light brown hair and the thin strands of
blond brightened it and made him feel younger. He didn't get his pubic hair bleached at a salon, though. He
went to a beauty supply store, bought bleach and peroxide there, and touched up his own pubic hair about
once every two months.
Davis bucked his pelvis forward and Lance licked the head of his erection again, this time he
licked longer and with his tongue extended for the purpose of exaggeration.
When he finished, Davis sat up a little and leaned over to pat his ass. "I think everything about you
is hot. Now get up here and sit on my lap like a good boy."
After so many years together living as a couple, they'd both reached that point where they'd come
to expect certain things during sex. That night Lance sucked Davis's dick for a few more minutes. He'd
always liked how it tasted and even when he wasn't in the mood the moment he started sucking he usually
found it difficult to stop. The familiarity of sucking the same dick all these years came with benefits Lance
had always loved most about being in a long-term monogamous relationship. He knew how to touch Davis
in certain ways in order to stimulate him and work him to the edge. He stroked the bottom half gently, often
caressing it with his fingertips, and at the same time he sucked the top half even more gently. At times, his
full lips barely grazed the head, which always seemed to stimulate Davis to the point where his entire body
would shudder. Each time he ran his fingers down to Davis's balls and scratched them lightly Davis would
let out a moan and wiggle his toes in the most delightful way.
Of the two men, Lance had always been the more submissive in bed, and more emotional. Davis
seemed to view sex more as a physical need, where Lance thought of sex as less physical and far more
emotional. Davis took what he could without thinking first. Lance found most of his pleasure in knowing
he could always bring Davis to the point of moaning or shuddering. It had taken him years to perfect his
gentle techniques with Davis and he rarely made an unplanned move in bed. While he was sucking the head
of Davis's dick, he thought about his next move, which could be anything from licking the shaft to rolling
Davis's balls around in his mouth. He never knew exactly what he would do until a moment or two before
he did it. But he rarely left anything unplanned.
When he stopped sucking that night, he slowly rose to his knees in what anyone watching might
have described as feline moves. As he moved forward, he kissed Davis's abdomen and licked his rib cage.
Davis reached for a tube of lubricant they always kept on the nightstand and Lance lifted his left leg over
Davis's waistline. Like any married monogamous straight couple they had no need for condoms and their
intercourse was always raw.
While he waited for Davis to open the tube of lubricant, Lance pressed his palms to Davis's chest,
arched his back, and lowered his bottom until the shaft met the most private part of his bottom. Lance
started grinding his pelvis; he tossed his head back and closed his eyes. A moment after that, he lifted his
bottom so Davis could spread clear grease all over his dick. Davis then spread the remaining grease on his
fingers around the lips of Lance's anus. They'd done this so many times in the past neither one of them
needed to speak. Lance knew Davis would insert a finger or two for a moment, and he knew the moment
Davis did this his body would begin the same pattern that would eventually lead him to climax. He slowly
backed into Davis's hand and sighed. In many ways having Davis's fingers in his body could be just as
satisfying as having his dick inside.
Then Davis pulled his fingers out and he patted Lance's bottom with three firm taps. As Davis
grabbed his dick and guided it to Lance's opening, Lance spread his legs wider and backed into it slowly. In
the beginning of their relationship there had been pain so sharp Lance often wound up biting his fist. He
swore his heart stopped sometimes it was so brutal. But at this point he knew how to take Davis all the way
in without even a flinch.
As he lowered his bottom and the thick, greasy erection slid in deeper, Davis removed his hand
and Lance did the rest on his own. Lance sat all the way down on him, righted his upper body, and started
running his hands up and down his own torso. He always kept his eyes closed at this point. He grabbed his
own chest muscles and squeezed them harder. Having Davis inside him brought him to another emotional
place that was hard to put into words. It was a place where he could forget about everything that had been
bothering him, a place that filled him both emotionally and physically, and a place that made him feel
connected to Davis the way nothing else could.
Their love-making didn't take long and it wasn't filled with the kind of foreplay they'd had when
they'd first met. This was more familiar and structured and Lance knew when to start moving faster and
riding Davis to the finish. When the bed started to move, Lance bounced up and down on Davis faster.
When the sound of Lance's ass hitting Davis's pelvis turned into smacks, the bed moved and the headboard
tapped against the wall. And when the headboard tapped against the wall, Lance grabbed his own dick and
waited for Davis to respond.
It was always the same. Davis grabbed Lance's hips and squeezed hard. Then his upper body
moved forward, his face twisted sideways, and his head started to jerk with quick, short spasms. The instant
Davis's face turned red and he started to repeat the word "fuck" in a soft whisper, Lance knew Davis had
climaxed and Lance started stroking his own dick. Davis's body went back and his head rested on the
pillow. Lance sat down hard on his dick and came seconds later. As he expunged his load onto Davis's
torso, he felt the climax all over his body, from the deepest part where Davis's dick rested to the top of his
head. Lance didn't speak a word, or let out as much as a grunt. He sighed softly, held his breath for a
moment, and exhaled as the orgasm left his body.
When Lance opened his eyes, he leaned forward and kissed Davis on the mouth. When he
removed his tongue, he smiled and said, "I love you."
"I love you, too," Davis said, as he tapped him three more times on the ass.
Then Lance slowly climbed off his dick, off the bed, and went into the bathroom to clean up.
When they'd stopped using condoms back in the early days of their relationship this had been something
Lance had to get used to doing, especially since he knew for certain he would always be on the receiving
end when they made love. At first, he found it annoying and he hated the thought of what he had to do after
sex. But then he reached a point where washing Davis off became as arousing as the sex itself had been. He
never mentioned this to Davis because he knew Davis wouldn't understand. But it was that emotional
stimulation of having the man he loved so much make a mess of him this way that created all these erotic
feelings. It was such a simple thing; yet it took on more meaning as the years passed. He knew he would
sleep well that night. He often felt Davis inside him long after they finished having sex. And with all he had
on his mind with the bookshop, he needed a good night's sleep as much as he'd needed Davis to fuck him.
Chapter Four
Each year after Labor Day weekend, Davis's traveling schedule always grew more demanding
until Christmastime. It was mostly domestic travel and only on weekdays, but it often wore on Lance the
longer he did this. It had always been Lance's dream…fantasy…to make the bookshop successful enough
so Davis could retire from his corporate job early and they could run the business together. On cold lonely
nights when he went home to a big old farmhouse to his two loving pugs, he often daydreamed about what
it would be like when Davis didn't have to travel anymore. They could get up later and go to work together.
Davis could handle all of the more technical aspects of the business and Lance could do the more creative
work and deal with his customers in more attentive way than he could on his own. They could eat dinner
together every night of the week instead of Davis eating alone in a hotel room and Lance sometimes
skipping dinner altogether. After that, they would go to bed and make love in positions they rarely ever
tried now.
But in order for this dream to come true, Lance knew he had to make a few serious changes that
fall. He started by reading all the articles he could find about bookshops, e-books, and how the markets
where changing. Most of the time he wound up disillusioned with what he read because things didn't look
hopeful for small bookshops. But he finally came across one small article where a small bookshop like his
seemed to be thriving in Washington, D.C. because the owners knew how to be creative in times that
seemed to be changing on a daily basis.
After he read this article, he decided to start by introducing gourmet coffee into the shop, and a
line new line of technical devices for the purpose of reading digital books. He avoided those pesky small
town zoning laws by offering the brewed coffee for free and only selling the gourmet coffee beans in pre-
packed bags. He didn't want to turn the place into a coffee shop or an eatery. He wanted to keep it a
bookshop most of all. The mark up on the pre-packaged coffee beans would cover the loss of the freshly
brewed free coffee. He also added a few comfortable leather sofas, some interesting club chairs, a French
industrial distressed coffee table, and a long harvest table like the one he remembered from the public
library of his childhood.
Through all this, Davis continued traveling and Lance updated him each weekend about
something new he'd done to the bookshop. On Saturdays, Davis would stop into the bookshop on his way
to the gym and rave about the changes Lance had made. Davis had to be subtle because there were always
so many people in the shop browsing, sipping coffee, or having a discussion about books at the harvest
table. He would call Lance over to the counter, set his palm on the small of Lance's back, and nod in
approval. When no one was looking, he would grab Lance's ass, kiss him, and say, "You're doing a great
job, baby."
The hardest part about all the changes Lance made was dealing with the technical e-reading
devices he'd introduced. It wasn't just enough to install a wireless connection so people could use their
tablets and laptops in the shop. On weekdays when the shop was normally slow, he would study as much as
he could about uploading, DRM, and the various formats in which e-books could be purchased. Most of the
information he found on the Internet was free. He wasn't selling e-books yet, and he wasn't certain he ever
would. He was only selling e-reading devices, and he had a long way to go in that department. But he found
an interesting dichotomy: some of his customers were genuinely curious in e-books and some claimed they
would rather die than give up print books. He also found a market in used e-reading devices. People who
had already started reading e-books always seemed to be upgrading to a new tablet or device and they
wanted to know if he would be willing to sell the old e-reading device they weren't using anymore. At first,
he wasn't sure about this and everything he did he considered experimental. But after he thought about it
for a while he figured if he sold used devices on consignment it wouldn't cost him a dime, people would
pay less for a good product, and everyone wound up happy.
By November of that same year, sales increased, coffee bean sales remained solid, and he had cash
in his pockets again. In tourist towns like his he'd come to expect certain things about his business. One of
which was never to depend on locals for anything. Townies avoided the shops on Main Street where he
lived. Most would do anything to avoid going down Main Street. But something interesting happened. The
woman who ran the beauty shop on the other end of town started coming in before work so she could get a
cup of coffee and a small bag of coffee beans. The guy who owned the art gallery across the street started
coming in during the week and he wound up buying a used e-reading device. People from the local gym
would stop in and Lance started selling pre-packed foods from the small gourmet shop down the street.
They worked out a deal where he sold everything on consignment and due to a strange law in his town it
was legal for people to eat these things in his shop. He was safe as long as he didn't prepare anything there.
Everything went so well Lance couldn't wait to get up in the morning and go to work. For a while,
the only small thing about work that frustrated him was the UPS truck that sped up and down the street and
terrorized everyone else in town. By three in the afternoon his feet ached and he didn't mind the thought of
going back to the empty house. He'd talked all day to customers and it was a nice, easy thought to look
toward home again
at the end of each day so he could sit in silence for a change. Though he missed Davis
as much as usual, he found himself enjoying the peace and quiet for the first time since they'd been
together.
It all would have been perfect if Davis hadn't dropped a huge unexpected bombshell on him the
Sunday before Thanksgiving weekend. They were in the den watching the ten o'clock news and Lance had
mentioned something important to him. "I'm thinking about hiring someone to help out at the shop part
time. I think I should start staying open until nine at night. I know it might change our lives a little, but I
think that now with so many local people coming in it's going to be good for business."
Davis sent him a smile and said, "I think that's a good idea."
This wasn't the reaction Lance had expected. Davis had never really taken the bookshop seriously.
In fact, he sometimes thought of it as a nuisance on weekends when he would rather have taken weekend
getaways. The reason Lance had waited so long to mention anything about extending hours was because he
wanted to do it when Davis was in a mellower mood. "Excellent," Lance said. "I'm also thinking of starting
to add a line of gift items. I've been researching suppliers that sell everything from unusual stationary to
greeting cards. I think if I'm careful and I keep the look of the shop just the right way, I can still focus on
selling mostly books and everything else will just be something to draw people in. I hate doing this, but I
don't see any other choice." He'd come to the conclusion there would be people who would always read
print books in his lifetime. But many were switching to digital books and he wanted to remain relevant for
as long as he could. And if books stopped selling, at least he would still be able to keep the shop running in
another capacity.
"I think it sounds wonderful," Davis said. He continued to stare at the TV, as if avoiding direct eye
contact.
"You do?" Lance asked. "I wasn't sure you'd like the idea."
"I'm glad you're busy and the shop is doing well," Davis said.
"It might cut into a lot of the free time we have, though," Lance said.
"It won't change things that much," Davis said. "And if you hire people part time that should make
a huge difference."
Lance sent him a sideways glance and said, "What are you up to? Normally you wouldn't be too
thrilled about doing all this."
Davis smiled and said, "I'm just agreeing with you."
"C'mon," Lance said. "What's up?"
Davis finally turned and looked at him. "You're not going to like this."
"Just tell me," Lance said.
"I'm leaving for Hong Kong tomorrow morning and I'll be there for three weeks."
Lance hesitated for a moment. Two weeks was the longest he'd ever been away on business. At
first, it didn't register. But when he realized Thursday was Thanksgiving, he sat up and squared his back
and said, "Three weeks. What about Thanksgiving? We're having twenty people this year." They'd been
hosting a family Thanksgiving for the past six years. Davis's parents were coming from New Jersey, and
Lance's parents from Connecticut. There were also brothers, sisters, and in-laws from both sides coming. In
previous years they'd had as many as forty for Thanksgiving dinner and that year was much less. But Lance
had never done it all alone.
Davis sent him a sheepish grin and shrugged. "I can't help it. I was basically told I have to go.
We're expanding in Asia and they want me there. I don't have a choice."
Lance knew he couldn't argue points like this and complain about Davis's job. His job had been
what kept them able to afford a big farm house, two luxury cars, and the lifestyle they led. Even though the
bookshop was doing better, it never would have supported their current lifestyle. "That really sucks," Lance
said, slumping back in his chair.
"You could cancel Thanksgiving this year," Davis said.
"I can't do that at this late notice," Lance said. Leave it to Davis to suggest something so
unemotional, not to mention tacky. "People are expecting to come here. We don't see family much and I
know they're looking forward to it."
Davis stood up. As he headed toward the hallway, he kissed the top of Lance's head and said, "I'm
sorry. Work has to come first this time."
About an hour later, Lance found Davis in bed with the lights out. Although Lance was still angry
about him mentioning this three week trip to Asia without warning, he didn't want Davis to leave the next
morning with friction between them. So he took off his clothes, climbed under the covers, and wrapped his
arms and legs around Davis's body.
Without moving, Davis said, "I thought you were mad at me. I didn't think I would get any
tonight."
Lance moved one hand down and he grabbed Davis's dick. With the other he caressed his bicep
and said, "I'm pissed and you really don't deserve to get any, as you so delicately put it. But I understand."
He felt Davis growing hard in his palm, so he squeezed him and said, "On my stomach."
Davis knew what Lance wanted without having to ask. Davis kicked off the covers, grabbed the
lube on the nightstand, and turned Lance over on his stomach with force. While Lance spread his legs,
Davis lubed his cock, shoved a pillow beneath Lance's stomach, and mounted him with a plunge so abrupt
Lance's feet went up in the air. Then he fucked Lance until the headboard knocked into the wall behind the
bed again. It was late and Davis had to get up early to pack for his trip to Hong Kong in the morning.
Although this kind of fast sex wasn't unusual for them, something about it didn't feel right to Lance this
time. It was nice having Davis inside him. He wanted to do this because Davis would be away for so long
this time. But he couldn't really get into it the way he normally did.
After Davis came, he pulled out, turned Lance over, pushed his legs open, and entered him again.
He was still hard and he wanted Lance to come now. But when he glanced down and noticed that Lance
didn't have an erection, he tilted his head and asked, "What's wrong?"
Lance didn't want to go into a deep, long discussion. He smiled and said, "I'm just tired I guess.
Nothing's wrong."
"Are you sure?" Davis asked.
Lance nodded. "I'm okay, really. I'm just tired and I want to go clean up now."
"But you didn't come," Davis said.
"I don't have to come all the time. You know that." This had happened before, always when Lance
was upset with Davis about something. Unlike Davis, if Lance wasn't into making love emotionally he
couldn't perform the physical act. And at times he just didn't feel like coming.
"Are you sure you're not still mad about Thanksgiving?" Davis asked.
Lance wanted to squeeze his balls hard, but he faked a smile and said, "I'm sure."
Davis kissed him and pulled out slowly. Lance climbed out of bed, crossed to the bathroom, and
didn't look back once. He pulled a washcloth from the linen closet and turned the hot water on in the
bathroom sink. Now more than ever he wanted to make the shop a success. He'd been growing tired of
Davis's work travel and this trip to Hong Kong seemed to bring him to the edge of distraction.
When he finished, he turned out the bathroom light, crossed back to the bed, and he felt a sting in
his gut at the thought of entertaining all those people alone for Thanksgiving. Had he known Davis would
be away he never would have offered to host Thanksgiving that year. And when he climbed into bed and
pulled up the covers, he felt something more like a pain in his gut when he realized how long he would be
alone this time. And this had nothing to do with Thanksgiving. This was also the longest he would be
without a man in his entire life.
Chapter Five
It hadn't always been easy to remain faithful to Davis all those years. When Davis traveled for two
or three days that didn't matter, but when he travelled for a full week Lance often craved both the physical
and emotional attention of a man. This meant that porn and sex toys didn't do it for him. He needed to be
held by a man, which had less to do with sexual gratification than it did emotional need. Although he'd
become less needy as he'd grown older, he still often felt as if he wanted to knock Davis down in the front
hall each time he returned from a business trip and fall on top of him.
They'd talked about an open relationship but they'd never drawn any set standards or rules, which
meant that in technical terms they were supposed to remain monogamous. Although Lance trusted Davis,
he would sometimes tell Davis that if he ever did cheat on him while he was on the road he didn't want to
know about it. Davis was a strong, attractive man who had obvious physical needs. Younger men were
always attracted to him. Lance tended to be pragmatic about these things; he knew when people were on
the road, so to speak, they sometimes lost their moral compass. He also knew some younger men had no
moral compass and tended to be sluts for pure sport. Lance emphasized that he wanted Davis to keep any
minor indiscretion he might have purely physical, without a hint of emotional involvement. In other words,
Lance was realistic about the fact that anything could happen when Davis was on the road, and if
something did happen Davis better keep it simple: nothing more than a quick trick or a one night stand. But
more than that, he'd better keep it safe and disease free.
Of course Davis would always laugh Lance's comments on this topic off and he would enforce the
fact that he had no desire to take another lover whether he was on the road or in their home town on
weekends. Then he would pull Lance closer, put his arms around him, and tell him how much he loved
him. Sometimes, if the timing was right, he even showed Lance how much he loved him by making love to
him. For the most part, this was enough to keep Lance sleeping well at night.
But the Asian deal started to throw their lives off in ways neither one of them could have
portended. Lance trailed through Thanksgiving alone that year without any serious issues. All their family
members understood how hard Davis worked and they did Thanksgiving dinner as if they didn't even miss
him all that much. At one point, while Davis's dad was carving the Thanksgiving turkey and Lance's mom
was talking about her latest senior citizen cruise, Lance sat back listening to them all and he started missing
Lance more than ever. In the middle of the meal he even excused himself and went into the powder room to
call Davis just to hear his voice. He got Davis's voice mail and left a message instead.
The difference between Davis traveling for business a few days a week and taking off for three
weeks or more at a time turned out to be something Lance hadn't expected. He thought he was used to it all
by then. They'd been together for twenty years and Davis had been traveling all that time. But when Davis
returned from Asia after Thanksgiving that year and he informed Lance he would be making more frequent
trips to Asia that year, and those trips would be even longer than three weeks at a time, Lance sent him a
glance and refused to speak to him for the rest of the evening.
At least Davis was home for Christmas that year, because it would have killed Lance if he'd been
away. But he wound up leaving for Asia again before New Year's Eve, and he would be gone for six weeks
this time instead of three. Lance spent New Year's Eve sitting in front of the fireplace with the pugs all
alone that year. He could have gone to several small parties friends in town were having but it just didn't
feel right without Davis.
It's not that he minded being home on New Year's Eve. There had been previous New Year's Eve's
when Davis and Lance had remained home to share a quiet dinner and watch the ball drop in Times Square
on TV. What irked him the most about New Year's Eve was the fact that Davis seemed to enjoy traveling
to Asia so much. When they spoke on the telephone Davis's voice went up with a lilt when telling stories
about his experiences there. The time he'd been home between the first trip to Hong Kong and the time he'd
left after Christmas had been interesting, too. Davis couldn't stop talking about how exciting his job was
now and how much he looked forward to going to work each morning. He smiled more than he had in
years. He even looked better and seemed to have more energy.
When Davis returned from Hong Kong the second time, Lance took a deep breath and fell into his
arms the first night. Lance hadn't had a man in over six weeks and he'd been losing weight out of sheer
frustration. He'd started doing three extra miles on the treadmill at the gym to work off the sexual tension.
He worked with more weights than usual to push the frustrating lonely nights out of his mind. The end
result from all this made him look younger and better than he'd looked in years. However, the frustration
and loneliness returned each time and often with more intensity than the time before that. So the night
Davis returned from the second six week trip, Lance met him at the front door in nothing but a bathrobe
and he informed Davis they would have a late dinner after they made a trip to the bedroom first.
That night, he fell asleep in Davis's arms and remained in the same position until the sun woke
him the next morning. A few minutes later, he woke Davis with a blow job and an exercise in tea-bagging
that left his lips swollen for the rest of the morning. He felt normal again; he whistled in the shower and
planned his day at the bookshop. He wore the first thing he pulled out of his closet because clothes meant
nothing to him now that Davis was home and his life was back to normal.
When he went down to the kitchen he found Davis in his boxer shorts sipping coffee and staring
out the kitchen window. It had snowed all week and the white glare from outside seemed to make
everything in the kitchen duller and more beige. He made a mental note to touch up the white trim around
the kitchen windows that week and crossed to the counter to make himself a cup of coffee. As he filled the
mug he thought about where they would go out to dinner that night when he returned from the shop. It was
Saturday and they hadn't been out to a restaurant in so long on a Saturday night he couldn't even remember
the last time.
He was thinking about the little Italian place not far from his bookshop. He popped a little plastic
packet of coffee into the machine and pushed the button. When he turned to look at Davis he smiled at the
way he was still gazing out the window and said, "It's really beautiful out, isn't it?"
Davis smiled but he didn't turn to face him. "It's fantastic. I wish I had more time to enjoy it."
His comment didn't register at first. Lance thought he was talking in generalities. But when the
coffee was finished brewing and he reached for his mug, he made a face, turned around to face Davis again,
and asked, "What are you talking about?"
This time Davis turned and sent him a huge smile. The kind of insincere smile Davis always used
when he had something to tell Lance he knew Lance wouldn't like. "I was going to wait until later, but I
know how much you're going to hate this and I think I should get it over with fast."
Lance felt a pull in his stomach. He sat down at the table and rolled his eyes. "Just tell me," he
said. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.
"I have to return to Hong Kong this week," he said. "I can't avoid it. In fact, I shouldn't have even
left but I wanted to come home and explain it all to you in person. I'm working on a deal right now that
could change the entire company's future. It could change our future, too. If I can manage to pull this off I'll
get a promotion, a huge bonus, and I'll be making more money than I ever dreamed I would."
When he put it that way, in such unselfish terms, Lance knew he couldn't argue the point. "How
long will you be gone this time?"
Davis shrugged and said, "About two months."
"Two months?"
"I know it's a long time but it's not going to be forever," Davis said. He walked over to the table
and put his hand on Lance's shoulder. "Trust me, we'll both get through this and everything will be back to
normal by this time next year."
All at once, Lance felt his face grow warm. His pulse started to race and he felt a rush of emotions
pass through him he couldn't contain. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Then he hesitated long enough to
keep his voice calm and even. "What's normal, Davis?" he asked. "Seriously. When this Asian deal is
finished you'll come home and you'll go back to traveling all week and I'll still be home alone every night."
"You never minded before," Davis said. He spoke with a low voice, but also with a hint of
surprise.
Lance stood up and walked to the sink. He poured the rest of his coffee into the sink, put the mug
in the dishwasher, and said, "I never told you I minded. And it's not like we haven't talked about this. I
always thought the ultimate goal was for you to retire early and stop traveling. That's why I've been
working so hard to make the business more profitable. And things are really good there. I know it's nothing
compared to what you make. But if things keep moving the way they are we can be very comfortable with
your investments and the income from the shop. We can scale back. I don't mind living in a smaller place.
We would only need one car."
Davis frowned and scratched the back of his head. "I do want to do that someday. But not right
now. It's not about money and you know that. I'm just not ready. I love what I do. I love everything about
what I do and I've worked hard to get where I am. I'm thrilled the shop is doing well. You know how much
I support you with that. I couldn't be happier for you. Can't you be happy for me, too?"
Lance started to feel a little guilty now. He hadn't seen him in a long time, and he didn't want to
argue with him. He grabbed his coat from a hook near the back door and then crossed back to where Davis
was standing. He reached for his hand and said, "I am happy for you. But I miss you so much I can't stand
it. I just want to be normal sometimes. We've been together for twenty years and in all that time we have
never spent one full month without you traveling somewhere. At first I used to worry all the time. After
what happened on 9/11 with the World Trade Center attacks I felt nothing but panic for a year each time
you left for the airport. Now I've reached a point where I just feel numb and it doesn't even bother me
anymore."
Davis put his arms around him and held him tightly. "I promise this isn't going to last for more
than a year. And once I secure this deal everything will go back to normal and we'll be just like we always
were. I promise."
Lance pressed his face to Davis's chest and he took a deep breath to inhale his scent. He didn't
mention this to Davis, but there had been nights in the past month when he'd gone to sleep wearing one of
Davis's shirts just so he could take in his scent. It made him feel less lonely and helped him sleep through
the night. Since the trips to Hong Kong, Lance had begun waking up in the middle of the night with his
heart racing, beads of perspiration pouring down his face, and a sense of panic for no apparent logical
reason. He knew they were night terrors; he'd read about them. He just didn't know why he was having
them or how to stop them.
Davis kissed Lance and said, "I have an idea." He patted Lance on the bottom, jerked away from
him, and headed to the back staircase at the end of the kitchen. "Don't go yet. I'll get dressed fast and I'll
drive you to work today. I haven't seen the shop in a while and I want to see what you've been up to. Then
I'll pick you up later tonight and we'll go out to dinner."
Lance knew what Davis was doing: he was placating him and changing the subject. Davis smiled
more than usual, his gestures grew more animated, and he spoke with that fake cheerful voice he always
used when he did this. So Lance shrugged and said, "I'll go out and start the car to get it warm. I'll take the
dogs out before I go, too."
Davis reached for the banister and said, "I'll only be a minute."
*****
For the short time Davis was home, they almost went back to normal. Lance opened the shop each
morning, the infernal UPS truck sped down the street two and three times a day, and the woman from the
beauty shop bought breakfast blend coffee beans on Tuesday. They didn't argue about Davis traveling and
the topic didn't even come up again. One thing that turned out to be different happened while they made
love each night. They normally didn't make love every night of the week. They hadn't made love every
night of the week since the first five years they'd been together. After twenty years their love-making had
become more of a two or three times a week affair, which Lance always thought was normal for them. It
felt as if Davis was over-compensating in the sex department and Lance would have felt guilty turning him
down. Each time they made love that week Lance went through the physical stages but couldn't help feeling
something missing on an emotional level. Afterward, Davis would fall asleep with a satisfied expression
and Lance would remain wide awake for a while thinking about his life, his circumstances, and the fact that
time seem to be passing so quickly. He was facing another birthday that spring…forty years old…which
didn't thrill him one bit. One night that week he didn't sleep at all when he realized he probably had more
years behind him than he had ahead of him.
He realized he'd reached middle age: the dead center of his life. This realization sent a surge of
panic through his entire body and he wasn't sure whether to pull the covers up over his head and never get
out of bed or run out to the nearest car dealership and buy himself a sexy red convertible.
He opted for a new hair color. After Davis left for the next trip to Hong Kong, Lance went to his
regular salon and had his stylist give him more shades of blond to make him look brighter and feel younger.
That same week, he started making appointments for the tanning bed at the gym, which was something he
never would have done in the past. He took one full day off, drove into Manhattan, and bought a whole new
wardrobe of clothes in trendy shops downtown that made him feel younger and more attractive. He wound
up spending so much time at the bookshop he started taking the dogs to work with him. He kept them up
near the front desk and gated both ends off so they wouldn't roam around on the loose. He'd been taking
them to work off and on for years and they were as familiar with the shop as they were at home. He was
also worried about the older dog, Watson. He was pushing fifteen years old and he'd been coughing all the
time for no apparent reason.
The coughing grew worse and one afternoon the poor thing tipped sideways, fell over, and his
entire body went dead still. For a moment, Lance pressed both hands to his mouth and stood there watching
with wide eyes. Watson finally got up again, but Lance made an appointment with the vet to see what was
wrong. After several basic tests the vet diagnosed Watson with congestive heart failure, gave Lance
medicine, and basically told Lance that Watson was at the end of his life and there was nothing else he
could do but hope for the best and make him as comfortable as possible. By the time Lance got home from
the vet his eyes were red and his face was puffy from crying the entire way. He held Watson in his arms as
he dialed Davis in Hong Kong to tell him the news.
At first, Davis thought someone in the family had died. "Stop crying and pull yourself together,"
he said. "What's wrong? I can't understand a word you're saying."
Lance stiffened his upper lip and sat down at the kitchen table, with the dog still in his arms. Then
he told Lance what had happened at the vet's office and ended by saying, "I'm just in shock. I never saw it
coming."
"Well he is going to be fifteen," Davis said, in a calm even tone, as if Lance should have expected
this. "And the vet did say there wouldn't be any pain at all. He's had a good long life."
Leave it to Davis to take the calm logical approach. The man had no emotion at all. He'd been
crafted from a slab of granite, not flesh. He didn't sound concerned at all. Lance was about to lose one of
the best friends he'd ever had…a dog he'd often thought of as his adopted child…and all Davis could do
was give him rational facts. "He's going to die," Lance said, trying not to cry again. "We're losing him.
Don't you understand that? We're losing a family member."
"Of course I understand," Davis said, with a patronizing tone that made Lance want to throw
something. "Now just calm down and don't get all freaked out. I've heard stories about these things where
dogs that are diagnosed with congestive heart failure live for years afterward. You can't predict these
things. How is he now?"
Lance sniffed back and glanced down at Watson. He patted the top of his head and said, "He
seems okay now. But he's been having these coughing spells and he falls over on his side and goes dead
still after them. It's so scary I don't know what to do."
The other little pug, Mavis, seemed jealous. She'd been rubbing up against Lance's leg because he
was holding Watson in his arms. Lance sent her a look and she backed off. He loved her just as much as he
loved Watson and he never treated them differently. But Watson had always been more his dog and Mavis
had always been more devoted to Davis. They'd even named her to rhyme with Davis…a mistake; their
friends joked about it all the time. There had never been a logical reason for this attraction each dog had
either. It just seemed to happen.
"How's my little Mavis?" Davis asked. "Is she okay?"
"She's fine," Lance said. Davis sounded as if he didn't even care about Watson. "She's only nine
and the vet said she's due for shots next month. I can't believe how fast that always seems to come around. I
asked them to double check. It seems like just last week I took her for shots, and it's been almost two
years." He started to ramble; he knew this but couldn't stop.
Davis said, "I have to go now. Are you feeling better?"
"I think so," Lance said. He looked down at Watson again and kissed his head. "He seems
perfectly normal to me. But I am going to put him on the meds, and I'll read up about all this online tonight.
Maybe there's a special diet or something to make him live longer."
"You sound better now," Davis said. "I love you."
"I love you, too," Lance said. He was still holding back tears. For some reason he couldn't explain
he felt as if he'd lost control of all his rational emotions. And the room felt like it was getting hotter and he
wanted to rip off his clothes and splash cold water all over his body.
"Don't worry," Davis said. "I promise you. He's a tough little guy and he's going to be just fine. He
might even outlive Mavis, trust me. I know about these things. That dog will live forever."
But Watson dropped dead that night. After he hung up with Davis, Lance fed both dogs, took them
out for a walk, and returned to the house feeling so much better he decided to draw a long hot bubble bath.
After his bath, he walked into the bedroom with a towel around his waist and found Mavis sitting on a
bench at the foot of the bed staring at him with her head tilted and an odd expression. He smiled at her and
walked to the closet. But when he reached for a robe and he realized Watson wasn't with her, he felt a lump
in his throat. For a moment, he stood still and stared at the wall.
Then he grabbed the robe and ran downstairs in his bare feet. He checked the living room and
dining room first and found no sign of Watson. He wasn't in the hallway, the den, or Davis's home office
right off the den. Mavis followed behind, as if cautious to make a move without him. When he stopped she
stopped. When he moved forward, so did she. He called out Watson's name a few times and nothing
happened. And by the time he reached the kitchen and gaped at the little pug's lifeless body near the water
bowls he already knew what had happened.
He picked Watson up off the floor and sat down at the kitchen table with Watson in his arms. He
remained there almost as lifeless as the dog and stared at the back door for the next hour without shedding a
single tear. Then he went back upstairs to put on sweats and sneakers. After that, he went down to the barn,
yanked a shovel from a hook, and walked through the dark cold night to dig a hole near the small rose
garden he'd planted the first year they'd moved there.
The weather was warm enough by then and the ground had thawed. He cried while he dug the
hole, he cried as he walked back to the house to wrap Watson in a black velvet square he'd been saving for
something special, and he cried so hard when he placed him in the deep hole he almost fell sideways. When
he started filling the hole in, he cried so hard he started choking and threw up everything he'd eaten that
day. He never dreamed he would be doing something like this all alone. He'd always thought Davis would
be around and they would do things like this together. And when he went back into the house and climbed
into bed with Mavis, he cried himself to sleep that night because he'd had to do all this alone.
In the morning, there were no more tears left to cry. He felt numb and empty and stronger in a way
he found hard to explain. He didn't phone Davis about what had happened. He made coffee, went for a
morning run, and he sent Davis an emotionless e-mail about what had happened to Watson. After that, he
showered for a long time and shaved his entire body until he was smooth all over except for one little patch
of bleached blond hair above his penis. He put on one of the new outfits he'd purchased in New York and
glanced at himself in the mirror sideways. He looked better than he had in years and he hadn't even realized
this until now. And if this is what his life would be like from now on he made a conscious choice to make
the best he could of it. The years he'd had with Watson had passed by so quickly he hadn't even had a
chance to blink. If the next fifteen years were going to pass that quickly, he would be an old gay man
watching younger gay men strut around on beaches sooner than he expected.
At least he still had Mavis. He found her waiting for him on the stool in the bedroom and she was
looking at him as if begging him to take her to the shop with him that morning. He scooped her up in his
arms and said, "It's just you and me, baby girl. And we're gonna make the best of this no matter what it
takes. He can spend the rest of his life in Hong Kong for all I care."
Chapter Six
When Davis finally phoned and asked for details about what had happened to Watson, Lance had
calmed down and he remained void of emotion. Davis apologized for not being there to go through this
with him, and even promised to figure out a way to make it up to him. Lance reassured him that wasn't
necessary and said he had plenty of things happening at the shop to keep him busy. And when they hung up
that night and Davis said, "I love you," Lance hesitated this time and only said, "Me, too."
Losing a pet so suddenly left him walking around in a fog. He had to figure out how to feed one
dog instead of two, how to walk one dog instead of two, and how to give one dog more attention because
she'd lost her best friend, too. After Watson died, Mavis clung to him as if her entire existence depended on
his every move. If he left the house for a moment to take out the trash she moaned and barked until he
returned. He wondered if she'd always been this needy and he'd missed it because Watson was around, or if
this was a new development and she missed Watson as much as he did. Davis had mentioned getting a
puppy, but Lance wasn't ready for that yet. He needed time to grieve for Watson and having a puppy
around would have made him feel even worse because of the guilt.
For the next week, he went to work, took care of business as usual, but felt as if he were going
through the motions. Then late on a Sunday afternoon when everyone he knew was home with their friends
and families, he went to the gym and something unusual happened. A local guy he'd seen around town for
years started talking to him while he was working out with free weights. He knew the guy's name was
Sergio, he knew the guy's family owned a pizza place in a small strip mall at the edge of town, and he knew
the guy had been married and divorced before he'd turned twenty-five. Lance had heard all this through
local gossip from the part time employee he'd hired to work weeknights at the bookstore. She'd dated
Sergio…along with half the men in town…and she seemed to know everything there was to know about
him. Although Lance wasn't much for gossip and small talk, he had to admit the stories his part time
employee told him about the locals could be entertaining at times. And many of her stories about Sergio
went into details that left Lance gaping in wonder.
When Sergio walked over to Lance that Sunday, Lance was on his back doing bench presses.
Sergio glanced down and said, "You're using weights that are too heavy, man. It's all wrong."
At first, Lance hadn't seen him approach. He'd been busy trying to balance the heavy weights. He
looked up and said, "Huh?" Sergio was standing over him, wearing loose basketball shorts. He looked up
and saw the jock strap right up through Sergio's pant leg.
Sergio reached over, grabbed the barbell, and took it out of Lance's hands. "I'm a trainer here,
bro," he said. "This is all wrong. A dude like you should be using lighter weights and doing more reps.
You'll build more tone and muscle that way without hurting yourself."
Lance sat up and shrugged. "I see." He watched Sergio remove the heavy weights from the barbell
and replace them with a lighter set.
Sergio lifted the barbell higher, walked behind Lance, and said, "Lay down again. I'll spot you and
show you how to do it the right way, man."
When Lance rested back again, he looked up and noticed Sergio's strong legs were directly behind
his head. From this angle, as Sergio stood over him, Lance could see the tight jock strap through both pant
legs. He didn't want to make this obvious, but he couldn't help looking longer than he should have. At a
glance, he'd always noticed Sergio's jock appeal. He had one of those bulked up stocky bodies, with huge
biceps, strong legs, a thick neck, and not an inch of body fat. He had his brown hair cut in an ultra-short
military way where it was closely shaved on the sides and back, and a little longer on top. From what Lance
had heard through idle gossip, Sergio had been the clichéd small town star football player in high school,
he'd screwed up his future by getting one of the cheerleaders pregnant on prom night, and gave up a
football scholarship to college in order to marry her and then divorce her. Instead of playing college
football he wound up working part time in the family pizza place and as a personal trainer at the local gym.
As Sergio stood over him, Lance grabbed the barbell and said, "Are you sure about this? It feels
kind of light to me." He'd always concentrated more on cardio and endurance machines at the gym to keep
his body lean and his ass firm. He'd only recently started working out with weights and he'd always thought
it should be painful and hard to manage.
Sergio laughed and said, "I know what I'm talking about, Dude. I know what you need." He spread
his legs wider and exposed more of his jock strap. "It's all about the reps, not the weights. Just trust me,
man. I'll get you results before you even know it."
For the next half hour, Sergio remained with Lance and they worked on Lance's chest and biceps.
By the time they finished, Lance's chest and arms felt numb. "I have a feeling I'm going to be sore in the
morning," he said, resting the barbells on the rack. "But I feel like I accomplished something this time.
Thanks for showing me all this. I appreciate it." He felt awkward talking to Sergio. Lance didn't speak to
other men and call them man, buddy, and dude. If he did speak that way it always sounded strange coming
from his mouth. But he did get a slight thrill up his leg when Sergio spoke that way.
"No problem, bro," Sergio said. He lifted his right arm, made a fist, and tightened his bicep. "Go
ahead, feel that. I can get your arm just as solid if you want me to."
Lance stared at his bicep and hesitated.
"Go ahead, man," Sergio said. "Just grab it."
Lance had to force himself not to appear giddy. He lifted his hand and reached out to touch
Sergio's huge solid bicep with his fingertips. He didn't want to be obvious; he didn't want Sergio to think he
was groping him in an inappropriate way, so he squeezed his arm and said, "I doubt my arm will ever get
that big."
"It won't get that big, man," Sergio said. "You have a softer body and it's nice that way and you
don't want no big muscles. But I can get it toned really firm for you."
Lance ignored his poor grammar skills and smiled. "Ah well, it might be too late for that. You're a
lot younger than I am."
Sergio sent him a sideways glance and said, "No way, dude. What are you? Like thirty or
something?"
Lance had tipped to the wrong side of thirty years earlier and he'd never actually said this aloud to
anyone. He'd always remained silent about his age and he'd let people wonder. So he smiled at Sergio and
said, "I'm thirty-five." He was about to celebrate his fortieth birthday soon. The worst part of this was he
didn't feel an ounce of guilt about lying to him either.
"Hell, dude," Sergio said. "I'm twenty-eight. You're not that much older. You can really get some
good results if you know what you're doing." He reached out with both hands and grabbed Lance's arms.
He rubbed them a few times and said, "You've already got some good stuff going on there. I can help you
out and I won't charge you anything." He tilted his head sideways toward an older man working out on one
of the weight machines a few feet away. Then he leaned forward and spoke in a soft stage whisper. "Hell,
I'm used to working with all these old dudes who pay and it's all bullshit. They're never going to get any
better. I only make them feel better. You'd be a challenge because you've got a great body and you're
halfway there already."
"When you put it that way, I guess I can't refuse," Lance said.
After Sergio told him a few things he wanted to do with him at the gym, Lance shook his hand,
agreed to do it, and went into the locker room feeling lighter, happier, and younger than he'd felt since his
actual thirty-fifth birthday. He'd worked up such a sweat with Sergio he wanted to shower before he went
home. And he had to do this fast because he'd left Mavis home alone that day and he liked to feed her on
time every night.
On Sundays the gym didn't attract a huge crowd, so he basically had the entire locker room alone,
which was fine with him. By the time he returned to his locker from the showers with one towel around his
waist and another around his neck, he heard a clank and knew someone had entered. He figured it was one
of the two older men who had been working out on weight machines. He didn't think twice about removing
both towels, drying his body, and leaning over to towel dry his newly bleached blond hair.
But while he was leaning over he heard a snap, and then felt a sharp sting on the middle of his ass.
He jerked forward and dropped the towel. When he reached back to grab his ass, he turned sideways and
found Sergio standing behind him with a big grin, a wet towel in his hand, and nothing but the jock strap on
his body.
"Calm down, bro," Sergio said. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just messing around."
"Ah, well," Lance said, feeling awkward because he was naked and his hair was sticking up all
over the place. He forced a smile and tried to laugh. "I just didn't see you coming."
Sergio shrugged and looked at Lance's nude body for a second. "Sorry, man," he said. "I should
know better than to sneak up that way on a guy like you. You're not like that. You're better than that. I
guess I hang around with the wrong types so much I forget."
Lance shrugged and said, "It's okay. I'm not scarred for life, trust me. And I don't want to be
treated any differently than your other clients." He couldn't help but notice the thick hard muscles up and
down Sergio's torso, or the way his torso tapered to a smaller waist and slim hips. He wasn't hairy, but he
obviously didn't shave his body like so many weight lifters Lance had seen in magazines. And the fuzzy
hair he did have on his legs and lower abdomen was a lighter shade of brown than his head.
"I'm gonna hit the showers, man," Sergio said. He reached down and scratched his leg right next to
the bulge in his jock strap.
The big bulge in Sergio's jock strap was something else that was hard to ignore. Lance glanced at
it fast, and then looked down at the floor. "I have to get home and feed the dog," he said. He knew that
sounded lame but he didn't know what else to say.
Sergio ignored his remark about the dog and glanced at him one last time. As he turned to head
toward the shower room, he said, "At least I knew I was right about one thing."
He continued walking and Lance turned and followed with his eyes. "What's that?" This time he
stared at Sergio's naked ass, the way his big feet hit the floor with each step, and blatant confidence with
which he walked. Lance didn't walk around in a jock strap that way in the locker room. He went to and
from the shower as fast as he could and he got dressed even faster. Most men did the same thing. But not
Sergio. He seemed to strut, with his head up high, and the huge bulge between his legs lead the way.
Sergio stopped and sent him a backward glance. "I knew you had a great body, dude. You'll be in
shape in no time." Then he turned again, stopped at a bench near the shower room, and pulled his jock strap
off without looking back. If he knew Lance was watching he didn't seem to care. But Lance figured all
straight guys acted that way in locker rooms and he didn't give it a second thought.
In the weeks that followed, Lance met Sergio at the gym every night and learned something
different. Although he had trouble getting out of bed the next morning, and his forty year old body seemed
to be rejecting all this strenuous training, he always went back for more in the evening. When he spoke to
Davis on the phone later at night he mentioned he was working out more at the gym but didn't say a word
about Sergio. Davis thought it was wonderful and he encouraged Lance to continue doing what he was
doing.
So that's exactly what Lance did.
By the third week, Lance began to see results. His pectoral muscles were starting to pop, his
abdominal muscles began to show, and he even had a small solid bump when he lifted his arm and flexed
his bicep. He'd never met a straight man as caring and encouraging as Sergio. He often felt guilty about his
first impressions of Sergio because Sergio was nothing like he'd imagined him to be. Although he wasn't
polished and his grammatical skills lacked a great deal, he paid attention to everything Lance said and
complimented him more than anyone had complimented Lance in years.
Lance forgot all about getting old and having more years behind him than ahead of him. He
thought more about how young he felt and about how much he enjoyed each moment he spent working out
with Sergio. The hot flashes and night terrors disappeared completely. He felt more like twenty-five than
thirty-five, and forty didn't even enter his thoughts anymore. Lance even made a point of letting Sergio
know he was gay; just to make sure Sergio knew. One evening while they were working on Lance's biceps,
Lance said, "It's nice that you're so comfortable with me. I feel like we're friends." Sergio shrugged and
said, "We are friends. Why wouldn't I feel comfortable?" Lance took a deep breath and lifted the barbells
higher. "Some straight guys get uncomfortable around gay guys. But you're different." This time, for the
first time, Sergio looked down at the floor and said, "It's all good, man. That doesn't bother me."
At the beginning of the fourth week, Lance didn't even realize he'd begun to speak like Sergio. He
didn't do it all the time; he just slipped into it once in a while and only with Sergio. They'd been working on
Lance's abs all evening and Lance hadn't used the tanning bed in the gym for a while. He sat up on the
bench, turned to Sergio, and said, "I'm going to tan now. I'll see you tomorrow, man."
"Wait for me, dude," Sergio said. "I haven't tanned in a while either."
There were two upright tanning beds in the gym and neither of them had signed up for an
appointment that night. "I just hope the beds a free, dude," Lance said. "I need some color bad, dude."
"Me, too, bro," Sergio said.
They walked to the back of the gym where the tanning beds were located in two small private
cubicles that had been designed and built around the tanning beds for privacy so people could dress and
undress alone. When the beds were in use there was a red light over the cubicle door, and when they
weren't there was a green light. The cubicle to the left had a red light. The one on the right was free. So
Lance shrugged and said, "I'll flip you for it, bro. I'll take heads."
But as he reached into his pocket for a quarter, Sergio said, "Let's just go in together. It'll save time
and we can just keep turning around."
Lance blinked. "Seriously? I don't think so." Those tanning booths were tight.
Sergio gave him a shove and laughed. "Dude, it's only tanning."
Lance had managed to build what he thought was a nice friendship with Sergio. He didn't want to
ruin that by going into a tanning bed with him and getting all worked up. "I don't know, man. I'm not sure
it's even allowed."
Sergio opened the louvered door of the cubicle with one hand and grabbed Lance's arm with the
other. "Dude, you worry too much." Then he yanked him into the cubicle and said, "I'll go to the desk and
get some tanning lotion. Take off your clothes. Don't turn the bed on until I get back."
He left before Lance had a chance to object. While he was gone, Lance stood there alone in his
sweats waiting for him to return. At least he knew he wouldn't get an erection. He was too nervous to think
about anything but getting all this over with as fast as possible.
When Sergio returned and he found Lance standing there fully clothed, he frowned and said,
"Dude, get undressed already. It's getting late." Then he proceeded to kick off his sneakers, pull off his
socks, and yank down his shorts.
While they undressed, their arms bumped and their bodies touched. It was such a small cubicle it
was hard to turn in any direction without hitting a wall, the full length mirror, or the tanning bed. At one
point, Lance almost tipped over and Sergio grabbed his waist just in time.
Lance decided to leave his boxer briefs on just in case, and Sergio didn't seem to notice. But
Sergio pulled off his jock strap, turned around, and said, "Dude, could you put lotion on my back? I'll do
yours, too."
Lance gulped and said, "I don't use lotion."
"Cool," Sergio said. "Just put some on my back then."
Lance took the bottle of tanning lotion from him, poured a thick slab on his palm, and then rubbed
it all over Sergio's back so fast he barely had time to even realize what he was doing. He knew if he worked
the lotion in slowly he might caress him in an obvious way. Lance was so nervous he started to break out in
a sweat and the tanning bed wasn't even on yet. Sergio seemed to notice this and he started making jokes
about Lance's cold hands. They started laughing and Lance forgot all about how awkward this was. Sergio
finally yanked the lotion out of his hand and said, "I'll to the rest, man. You're no good at this. You get in
there and turn on the bed."
When they put on their tanning goggles and closed the door to the upright tanning booth, Lance
said, "That lotion smells terrible. It's like coconut and pineapple went sour, man." He'd always hated sweet
perfumed scents.
Sergio backed up to Lance's back and said, "Hold your fucking nose, then. I like it."
"How will we know when to turn around?" Lance asked. He had to speak louder because the
interior fan in the booth drowned his voice.
"I'll tell you when to turn," Sergio said. "I'm wearing my watch. I like a little tan line." Then he
laughed because he was naked except for the watch.
This particular upright tanning booth was older and it took fifteen minutes to get the full effects.
For the first seven minutes they remained back to back in silence. It was so hot and the lotion smell
bothered Lance so much he'd only gone semi-erect, not fully erect. He figured Sergio wouldn't even notice
this. But when Sergio told him it was time to turn around and face each other so they could expose their
backs to the tanning bulbs, he never expected Sergio's full erection to poke him in the groin.
He pretended he didn't notice. He wasn't sure what to do or say.
Then Sergio moved forward and put his hands on Lance's waist. He pulled Lance closer until his
erection wound up flat against Lance's lower abdomen.
They stood in silence this way for a second or two, and then Lance asked, "What's going on?"
Sergio leaned forward and kissed his neck. "You know what's going on. It's time to stop playing
games."
Out of sheer reflex, Lance lifted his arms and rested his hands on Sergio's shoulders. He hadn't
been with another man since he'd been single over twenty years earlier and he was amazed at how much
bigger Sergio was than Davis. "I thought you were straight. I heard you were married and have a kid."
Sergio kissed his neck again and said, "I thought you knew I was bi-sexual."
Lance closed his eyes and his hands went up higher. He rested his cheek against Sergio's chest and
inhaled. That awful flowery lotion didn't smell as bad anymore. He was now fully erect and his dick was
sticking up through the waistband of his boxer briefs. "I didn't know. I thought you were just a really cool
straight guy."
Sergio's hands went down lower and he started to rub and massage Lance's ass. "Fuck, you are so
hot, man. I've been dying to do this for so long. It took me weeks to get the balls to come over and talk to
you that first time."
"I had no idea," Lance said. Lance had no idea this had been going on.
But Sergio thought he was talking about being bi-sexual. "Oh yeah," Sergio said. "I've been with
men and women, but I've never felt this way about anyone else. It's like I'm in love with you and can't get
enough. You're so beautiful it's like too hard to believe it's true, man."
The way Sergio held him and rubbed him felt better than anything he'd experienced in the past ten
years of his life. He ran his hands up and down Sergio's shoulders and arms. He lowered one hand between
Sergio's legs and took his erection gently. He couldn't get his fingers all the way around it. He stroked it a
few times and said, "I'm older than you."
"You're only thirty-five, man," Sergio said. "That's nothing."
Lance gulped. He didn't feel like telling the complete truth yet. "But I have a partner and we've
been together for a long time. I shouldn't be doing this."
"Are you happy with the dude?" Sergio said. He bit Lance's neck and sucked it for a second. "Can
he make you feel like I can?"
If this had been an experience without emotion, Lance might have reacted differently. But the
problem for him rested in the fact that he did have feelings for Sergio that frightened him more than he'd
realized. When he thought there was no chance Sergio felt the same way about him his own feelings didn't
seem to matter. He could brush them off as the middle aged fantasies of a lonely gay man lusting after a
jock in his twenties. Unrequited love seemed logical; this didn't.
Sergio grabbed the back of his head with one hand and his ass with the other. Then he kissed
Lance so hard that his tongue met Lance's the instant Lance's back hit the wall of the tanning bed. He
pinned Lance with such force Lance's knees went weak and he had to hang onto his shoulders for support.
The tanning bed went off, the bulbs went dark, and they continued to kiss. Someone knocked on the door
and they ignored it. Sergio pulled off his goggles and then pulled off Lance's. As Lance slipped into
complete submission and his head went back and one leg went up, he grabbed Sergio's shoulders, dug his
nails into his flesh, and he snuggled into his strong hot body as if he couldn't get enough of him. The harder
Sergio kissed him the higher his leg went. When Sergio slipped his hand inside Lance's briefs, he pressed
his middle finger to the lips of Lance's anus and Lance arched his back and spread his legs.
But a second later, he pulled his face away from Sergio's and said, "I can't do this. You have to let
go."
"I love you," Sergio said. "You know you want it, man. You know you love me, too."
Lance pressed his palms to Sergio's chest muscles and tried to push him back. But he was too
strong; Lance couldn't do anything more than struggle to keep his face away from Sergio's. "Please let go of
me. I can't do this. It's wrong."
"I'll let go on one condition," Sergio said.
"What?" He would have been willing to do anything to get out of there. He couldn't control his
feelings anymore. If he remained this way a minute longer he would submit completely and nothing would
ever be the same again.
"That we can still be friends and this won't change anything," Sergio said.
"I don't understand," Lance said. He'd just rejected him. He thought Sergio would be pissed.
"I love you too much to let you go completely," Sergio said. "If I can't have you as my lover, I'll
settle for a friend."
"You'd do that?" He was so big and strong it was hard to let go of him.
"Yes," Sergio said. "I'd do anything for you."
"Then yes," Lance said. "We can be friends. Nothing will change. But please let me go now. This
is too confusing. I have to get out of here. I'm sorry."
Sergio held him tighter and kissed him one more time. Then he released him and backed into the
other wall. As Lance turned to leave, he looked back and asked, "What would you have done if I hadn't said
yes? Would you have let go of me?"
Sergio reached out and caressed his shoulder. "Of course I would have let go of you. I just wanted
to hear it. I wanted to know you don't think I'm just a big dumb jock who knocked up a cheerleader and
works in a pizza place."
Lance pushed the door open and said, "I don't think that. I'll see you tomorrow. And thank you."
"For what?" Sergio asked. Lance noticed he was still fully erect and not a bit ashamed of it.
"For being so nice," Lance said. "And for putting our friendship above everything else. You have
no idea how important that is to me. Trust me, it's better this way. We'll always be friends now."
Sergio smiled. "If you say so."
Chapter Seven
After the evening in the tanning booth, Lance and Sergio went right back to being both freebie
client and professional trainer, and friends. At first, Lance had been worried their one erotic encounter
would ruin their platonic relationship. But the morning after the tanning bed encounter Sergio stopped in
for coffee unannounced, as if making a point to assure Lance everything was still fine between them, and
pretended as if it had never happened. He joked around with Lance, bought a book on vitamins, and
confirmed their work out session for that evening. The only hint Sergio gave that suggested something
more intimate might have happened between them was when he left the bookshop for work and he sent
Lance a backward glance with a quick wink. Lance smiled and nodded. After that, Lance suspected
everything was going to be okay between them.
When Davis returned from Asia, he seemed to notice all of the changes in Lance, not just the
obvious physical changes Lance had made by working out so often with Sergio. He asked Lance again if he
wanted to get another dog and Lance smiled and said, "I'm not ready yet." He'd come to terms with Davis's
travel and with the fact that he would be alone more often. He'd figured out a way to build a life on his own
without Davis and having a puppy around would have been more of a hindrance than a help. He didn't want
to train a new puppy, he didn't want to rush home to feed a new puppy, and he didn't want to be strapped
taking a new puppy to work with him every day and dealing with all that neediness. He wanted to plan his
days around his work, and his evenings around going to the gym and working out with Sergio.
Lance didn't even frown when Davis informed him he had to return to Asia the following week. "I
know I've been gone a long time," Davis said. "But I have to go back again next week for some important
meetings. But I'll only be there for three weeks this time."
Davis told him this while they were in a restaurant having dinner. He spoke with such a cautious
tone Lance stopped eating, reached across the table, and held his hand. "Don't worry. I'm okay with it.
Seriously. I really don't mind."
"You're not mad?"
Lance shook his head and smiled. "Not in the least. I'm busier than ever and I like what I'm doing.
That makes all the difference to me."
"I promise I'll make it up," Davis said. "We'll take a trip to Palm Springs when I get back this
time. You plan everything."
"Let's wait and see," Lance said, reaching for his wine. "There's no rush."
Davis hesitated for a moment, as if he were afraid to reply. Then he said, "I have to admit that I
like your new attitude. I was worried you'd really freak out on me when I told you I had to go back. But this
new outlook you seem to have is wonderful."
"New outlook?" Lance asked. He had no idea what Davis was talking about. He knew he'd
changed, but not that much.
"You just seem different," Davis said. "You even look different."
Lance finished his wine and shrugged. "I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and to just make
things work. It's hard to explain. I wish you didn't have to travel, but I understand and I'm fine with it. I
really am."
When they went home that night they made love. After that, they went back to the normal routines
they had whenever Davis was home from a business trip, except for the fact that Lance went to the gym for
an hour each night to work out with Sergio. Davis didn't seem to mind. He encouraged Lance to go to the
gym. Lance asked Davis to join him a couple of times so he could meet his trainer, Sergio, and they could
work out together. But Davis couldn't spare the time and he spent that extra hour each evening working in
his home office.
The night before Davis left for Asia again Lance canceled his session with Sergio so he could go
home early and prepare a quiet dinner for two in front of the fireplace. In bed that night, they made love in
their favorite position, with Davis on top and Lance face down again. Davis left the next morning with a
kiss, a hug, and such a small amount of fanfare anyone looking in at them from the outside would have
thought he was going out to buy a pack of gum instead of taking a trip half way around the world.
As he stood in the doorway waving goodbye, Lance felt secure and safe and as stress-free as he'd
been in years. He was even looking forward to a possible trip to Asia in the coming months. After they
made love the night before, Davis had mentioned it would be fun to take Lance along just once so he could
see some of the things Davis had discovered in Hong Kong and a few other places he'd traveled to in Asia.
When Lance mentioned the trip to Hong Kong to Sergio that night, Sergio shrugged, looked down
at a set of barbells, and said, "Sounds nice." Then he pointed to the barbells as if Lance had never
mentioned a trip to Hong Kong and said, "I think you can use these tonight. They aren't that heavy."
Lance picked up the weights without commenting and went right into this normal work out with
Sergio. But he noticed something different about Sergio that night he couldn't explain. Sergio seemed
quieter than usual, and he didn't joke around at all. He avoided eye contact and treated Lance as if he were
nothing more than a paying client. He didn't even offer to walk out to his car with him at the end of the
session. Lance knew Sergio could be moody at times, so he didn't make a big thing out of it. But Sergio's
odd mood lasted for the next four nights and Lance was beginning to wonder if he should say something.
On Friday evening, Lance had to cancel his work out session with Sergio because his part time
employee called in sick that night. He didn't mind. He hadn't worked at night for a while and he liked
getting to know the customers who came in at night. It was always a different crowd. The bookshop had
turned into a gathering place for many in town. They didn't always bring Lance more business, but he liked
knowing he'd created a place for people to socialize and talk about books. His goal was to see this continue;
hoping in time more people would spend money on books and make his shop a regular destination point.
He wasn't sure about this; the bookshop's increase had flattened out and he been seeing a decline in sales in
spite of the fact that he had more people in every day. At that point he wasn't worried because he knew the
shop was at least breaking even, he had cash in his pockets, and Davis was making more money than ever
now.
In fact, money was the last thing on his mind when he turned and saw Sergio walk into the
bookshop around ten fifteen that night. Lance had just spoken to Davis on the phone, told him he loved
him, and that he was closing up for the night. When the little bell on the front door went off, Lance felt a
thump in his stomach because he hated turning customers away. But he'd been there since eight in the
morning and he wanted to go home, climb into bed, and do nothing but fall asleep watching TV.
Mavis barked at the bell and Lance looked up. He didn't even recognize Sergio because he was
wearing a black hoodie, his hands were in his pockets, and his shoulders were slumped forward. When
Sergio looked up and Lance saw his face, Lance took a deep breath and said, "It's you. I thought you were
another customer and I was ready to throw you out. It's been a long day, man."
While Lance gathered his things and prepared to close up for the night, Sergio crossed to the
counter and said, "I wanted to talk to you about something."
Lance was looking for his car keys. He wasn't paying attention to Sergio's expression. "Sure. What
do you want to talk about?"
"Us," Sergio said.
Lance pulled his car keys from the bottom of his briefcase and said, "What about us?" He was
thinking about the long hot bubble bath he might take that night.
Sergio reached over the counter, grabbed Lance's arm, and said, "Would you please stop moving
around and look at me. This isn't easy."
When Sergio grabbed his arm so hard, Lance's head jerked back and he looked into Sergio's dark
eyes. The hood still covered most of his head and he hadn't shaved in a few days. "You're hurting me,"
Lance said.
Sergio released his arm and lifted both of his arms up at the same time. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean
that. I just wanted to get your attention. This is serious."
Something wasn't right. Lance had never seen such a dark, serious expression on Sergio's face.
This time he reached over, placed his hand on Sergio's, and said, "I can see that. Let me lock the door, pull
down the blinds, and lower the lights first."
A minute later, Lance went over to the large brown leather sofa near the free coffee counter where
his customers usually gathered to discuss what they were reading. For some reason, they all preferred that
sofa to the lighter, softer one. While he'd been closing the shop and pulling the shades down Sergio had
walked over to the sofa. He was sitting in the middle, slumped forward with his elbows on his knees and
his head in his hands. He'd removed the hood and his short hair was sticking up in the back which gave him
a messy quality that only made him look more adorable.
Lance sat beside him and reached up to smooth down the shock of thick hair sticking out in back.
"What's so important that it can't wait until I see you tomorrow at the gym? I've never seen you look this
serious." He tried to smooth down the shock of hair again, but it remained sticking out.
Sergio jerked his head away from Lance's hand and said, "That's the problem. What you're doing
right now."
Lance opened his eyes wider. "I was just smoothing down your hair. I'm sorry." He often did
things like this to Sergio and he never seemed to mind. Lance gave him fashion advice, told him where to
get his hair cut, and made a point of telling Sergio he should never, under any circumstances, wear cowboy
boots with sweat pants in public settings.
As Lance sat there waiting with a confused look, Sergio ran his large hands through his hair and
said, "It's the way you're touching me. It's the way you walk, the way you look, and the way you act with
me. It's everything about you, man. Can't you see that?"
Lance thought they had established a good friendship by then. He knew there were underlying
emotions, but he thought those emotions were under control. "I really don't understand. I'm sorry." But he
was starting to get an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
Sergio turned slowly and looked him in the eye. He reached out and held Lance's arms and took a
quick breath before he spoke. "I'm in love with you. I can't do this anymore. I know you feel the same way
about me, too. And don't try to deny it."
Lance tried to back up but Sergio wouldn't release his arms. Even though he hadn't expected
Sergio to approach him this way, he had this odd feeling deep down that he'd had this conversation with
Sergio in the past. "I thought we settled all that," Lance said. He did have deeper feelings for Sergio but
he'd decided it was best to ignore them for the sake of his marriage and their friendship. "I thought you
knew our friendship had to remain platonic because I'm with Davis. I can't have sex with you and I can't
cheat on Davis that way. I'm just not wired for that, Sergio."
"I'm not talking about sex," Sergio said, holding him tighter. "I'm trying to tell you that I'm in love
with you and I want you to leave Davis and come with me. The thought of you being with him about killed
me this week. I've been thinking about it for a long time. My parents are in Italy right now and you can
move in with me over the pizza shop. We'll find an apartment of our own fast. I know a lot of people in
town."
"The pizza shop? An apartment?"
"Yes," Sergio said. "My parents won't be home for a while and we can find someplace else to live
before they get back."
Although Lance knew Sergio had feelings for him, he had clearly underestimated Sergio's deepest
emotional feelings. But more than that, he'd underestimated his own emotional feelings as well. He'd
compartmentalized his relationship with Sergio in a neat, concise way because he never dreamed Sergio
would actually fall so desperately in love with him. For one thing, there was the age difference between
them. Lance still hadn't told Sergio he was really forty instead of thirty-five. And second, Lance had always
thought of Sergio as a guy who preferred casual sex more than an actual relationship. And in thinking this
way Lance had found a safe place to be at all times. The fantasy and excitement were always there, but
without the reality of actually having to make any choices.
Sergio pulled Lance closer. Lance tried to push him away but he wouldn't let go. He put his arms
around Lance and kissed his neck. "I know you feel the same way about me, so don't try to deny it." Then
he forced Lance to his back, climbed on top of him, and started kissing him on the mouth.
The instant Sergio's tongue met his Lance stopped trying to push him off and he responded by
putting his arms around Sergio's shoulders and caressing the back of his head. His entire body relaxed to
the point where he opened his legs and invited Sergio to push into his crotch in a way that made Lance
erect within seconds. While he kissed Sergio he felt that same sense of déjà vu once again as he tried to
catch his breath. He imagined what his life might be like living with Sergio over the pizza shop, waking up
to this hunk of man on top of him every morning of his life.
"I love you so much," Sergio said. "I can't live without you anymore. I can't pretend we're just
friends. I need you and I want us to be couple."
Before Lance could reply, Sergio started kissing him again and this time he reached down to
unfasten Lance's jeans. Lance's heart was racing by then and he knew what they were doing was wrong but
made no attempt to stop Sergio from pulling his pants down to his knees. Sergio felt so familiar and
comfortable, so strong and confident. He made Lance feel desirable and young again. To have a younger
man take him this way and love him so much fed into all the insecurities that had kept Lance awake many
nights when he thought about growing older and never having these feelings again. And in the same
respect, these were all new feelings because no man had ever made Lance feel this way, not even Davis. Or
maybe Davis had and Lance had forgotten. All Sergio had to do was brush against his face with the stubble
on his chin and Lance felt as if his body were ready to explode with ecstasy. All the wicked thoughts Lance
had ever had about men rushed through his mind in fast forward. Sergio smelled like a man, he held Lance
like a man, and he even moved in rough unplanned ways like a man.
As Sergio pulled down his own pants, Lance arched his back and opened his legs wider. Though
he'd thought about sex with Sergio he never thought it would actually happen, especially not after that time
Lance had turned Sergio down in the tanning booth. And now that it was happening all over again his own
eagerness stunned him. He didn't pay attention to his cell phone when it started ringing. Sergio didn't even
seem to hear the phone.
Then Sergio reached back to remove Lance's shoes and socks. He pulled them off fast and yanked
Lance's jeans off even faster. Having a young man undress him this way sent even more primal sensations
through Lance's body, to the point where had had trouble focusing now. When Lance was naked from the
waist down, he opened his legs as wide as he could without shame and rested one foot on the coffee table in
front of the sofa and the other up higher on the back of the sofa. As he arched his back again he reached for
Sergio's shoulders and pulled Sergio on top of him so they could kiss. This time when their tongues met
Sergio pushed his erection between Lance's legs and he started moving his hips and poking into the bottom
of Lance's ass.
In between kisses, Sergio said, "God, you feel so good, so soft and gentle. I want to make love to
you like no one's ever done it before. You make me feel so strong and so alive. I'm a better person with
you."
A tear ran down the side of Lance's face and he stopped kissing Sergio. Something deep down
inside, something that made him feel empty, told him it wasn't right and that he needed to stop. He turned
his head to the left and said, "I love you, too, but this is wrong. Please get up now. I've been with Davis for
half a lifetime and this is going to change all our lives if we continue." He didn't admit this to Sergio, but he
knew deep down he could leave Davis for Sergio: he loved them both in very different ways.
"It's not wrong," Sergio said, as he pushed harder between Lance's legs. "We love each other and
we can have a life together."
When Sergio said this, Lance saw Davis's face flash before his eyes. He knew that if he continued
this desperate act of passion on the sofa Sergio would enter him and there would be no turning back. If they
did make love that night, his life would change forever and he would have no choice but to leave Davis and
begin a new life with Sergio. Up until now, Lance had never had to make real choices that involved his
emotions. His life with Davis had fallen into place and he'd never even questioned these things until now.
Sergio pushed harder and Lance took a deep breath. "You need me," Sergio said. "You need a real
man who knows how to make love to you like I'm doing right now. Tell me you love me."
Lance felt another tear slide down his cheek. "I do love you. That's the problem, Sergio. I love you
so much. It's not that simple. I love Davis, too, and I have a life with him."
"Let me show you how much I love you just once," Sergio said. "Let me make love to you."
At that moment, Lance had this peculiar feeling he'd reached a pivotal point in his life where he
had the choice to either continue with the life he'd begun with Davis or move on to the life he could choose
to have with Sergio. He thought about the life he'd built with Davis and the home and business he loved so
much. He thought about Sergio ripping his clothes off and making love to him in the apartment over the
pizza shop. With a man like Sergio he would never be alone. With Davis he might be alone for the rest of
his life. He thought about how much Davis had supported him emotionally all those years, and then he felt
Sergio's rough stubble against his face and he inhaled Sergio's strong locker room scent once again. But
then something inside his head clicked and he knew what he had to do. It went against all of his most basic
instincts, and yet deep down a quiet little voice in his head told him it was the right choice. But more than
that, it was his only choice.
He reached down between his legs and he grabbed Sergio just as he was about to enter. He held
him gently, stroked him, and said, "Stop. I can't do this." The words didn't even sound real because he
wanted to do it so much. He wanted this big handsome stud more than he'd wanted anything in a long time.
But he also knew that if Sergio did enter him and they did make love that night there would be no turning
back.
"But I love you," Sergio said. "Let me show you what I can do to you."
For a moment, Lance hesitated. He almost opened his legs wider so he could find out what it was
like to be with Sergio. But then he pushed Sergio, climbed out from under him, and looked around for his
pants. "I'm sorry. I love you, too, but I love Davis in a different way. I can't even explain it."
Sergio fell back on the sofa and sighed aloud. He made no attempt to pull up his pants right away,
as if he were hoping Lance would see him half naked and change his mind. "What about us? Don't I
matter?"
Lance pulled up his jeans and fastened them. He sat on the edge of the sofa and reached for
Sergio's hand. "Of course you matter. You have no idea how much you matter. That's why I'm doing this. I
think I know what love really is, Sergio. I've been with the same man for a long time and it's more than
what you think it is. And I'm just not willing to let go of everything I've worked so hard for all my life. But
most of all, I can't hurt Davis that way. I do love him and you actually just helped me realize how much I
love my life with him. I didn't even realize that until now. It's not perfect, but nothing is perfect. You'll
figure that out someday on your own. But it's not going to be with me." He tried to explain all this with a
calm, even tone. He didn't mention the gut feeling, or the fact that when he thought about what life would
be like living with Sergio over the pizza shop he felt a tug in his stomach that confused him. Although he
could imagine himself living with Sergio over the pizza shop on a surface level, he had another odd feeling
deep down that it would alter his life in ways he couldn't imagine.
Lance stood up and looked around for his shoes. When he found them he sat down on a club chair
opposite the sofa and said, "I'm really sorry, Sergio. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I feel horrible."
The forty year old should know better with the twenty-eight year old. He felt as if he'd led Sergio on all
these months, indulging in what could only be described as the selfish emotions of a silly man avoiding
middle age with every breath and movement he took. A little red convertible would have been easier in the
long run.
Sergio sat up and pulled up his pants. When he stood up he fastened them and said, "At least we
can still be friends."
Lance smiled. He stood and reached for Sergio's hand. "Not this time. I don't think we should see
each other anymore. It's too strong and we would only be fooling ourselves, and you know that. I think it's
time we both faced reality and moved in separate ways." Sergio had been the only light in his life since
Davis had started traveling to Asia. He knew if he continued his friendship with Sergio this scene would
only be replayed again in the future. The next time he might not be strong enough to resist.
Sergio looked down and frowned. Then he shrugged and said, "I suppose you're right." He turned,
lifted his head, and looked into Lance's eyes. "Can I have one last kiss?"
Lance reached up to gently caress the back of Sergio's head. When he did this, Sergio grabbed him
so hard and kissed him with such force Lance wound up hanging from Sergio's shoulders, leaning back so
far that if Sergio had let go of him he would have fallen to the floor. It was as if Sergio wanted Lance to
remember this kiss, and to know what he would be missing for the rest of his life.
When they stopped kissing this time, Lance balanced himself and took a step back. "I'll see you
around town. But I won't be back at the gym again."
Sergio pulled the hood up over his head and said, "Yeah, I understand. I'll see you, man." Then he
turned to leave without looking back.
As Lance crossed to the front window and pulled the shade back so he could watch Sergio
disappear into the darkness, his phone rang again and he ran back to the counter to answer it. He knew it
was Davis calling without even bothering to look at the caller ID on the screen.
"Hey," Lance said. "I was just closing up for the night to go home."
"You're still there?" Davis asked. "It's late. I called the house first so ignore the voice mail."
"It was a complicated day," Lance said, as he leaned into the counter and smiled.
"I can't talk long, but I've been thinking since we hung up earlier. I've been sitting in my hotel
room all alone every night this week and thinking about how ridiculous this is," Davis said. "And you're
sitting there all alone every night, which is even more ridiculous."
"I'm okay," Lance said. "We'll get through it." He had a few small regrets about turning Sergio
down, but hearing Davis's voice reinforced the decision he'd just made.
"Why don't you come here for a couple of weeks?" Davis asked. "I know it's crazy, but I can have
a ticket waiting for you at the airport as soon as you like."
"Are you serious? I wouldn't get in the way with work?"
"Of course I'm serious," Davis said. "I want you to come here. I should have brought you here
sooner."
"I'll do it," Lance said. At that moment, nothing else seemed to matter.
"You will?"
"Yes," Lance said. "Don't sound so surprised."
"It just thought you wouldn't want to leave the shop," Davis said. "Or that you wouldn't want to
leave Mavis or your workouts at the gym." Lance had never been fond of travel and usually came up with
all kinds of excuses to avoid it.
"The shop will still be here when I get back," Lance said. "And Mavis will be fine with my
mother. I'll drive down and drop her off tomorrow."
"You don't have to decide right now," Davis said. "You can think about it."
Lance started laughing and he wasn't sure why. "It's not the most difficult decision in the world. I
want to be with my husband. It's really very simple."
"You don't mind being seen with a middle aged man," Davis said.
"Why would I mind? I'm a middle aged man." It was the first time Lance had admitted this aloud
to himself or to anyone else.
"Your personal trainer might miss you," Davis said. This was the first time Davis had ever made
any reference at all to Sergio. Evidently, he'd been paying closer attention than Lance realized.
"I'm not going to the gym anymore," Lance said. He felt it was important to mention this aloud.
"You're not?"
"No. I decided I've gotten all I'm going to get there and I can work out at home just as easily from
now on."
"I have to run now," Davis said. "I'll e-mail you the itinerary and I'll call you tomorrow around the
same time and we'll confirm when you're coming."
"Sounds good," Lance said. "I love you."
"Love you, too," Davis said.
When they hung up, Lance gathered his things and hooked a harness and leash to Mavis. As he
locked the door of the bookshop from the outside, he glanced at the sign in his window and smiled. Years
earlier Davis had cut an old piece of barn board and Lance had hand painted "Closed" on one side and
"Open" on the other. He turned and headed to a small bed and breakfast a few doors down where he paid to
park his car by the month. He had so many things to do before he left for Hong Kong he figured he'd better
start a running list when he got home. He had to look for his passport, get the luggage down from the third
floor closet, and call his mom to see if she could sit with Mavis for a few weeks.
As he turned toward the entrance of the small parking lot where he'd left his car earlier that
morning, he heard the sound of a truck coming toward him. He turned all the way around and realized it
was the UPS truck he normally saw speeding by his shop two and three times a day. But this time the driver
wasn't speeding. The truck moved so slowly that when it approached Lance had to squint because the
headlights started to blind him. While Mavis sat by his side and looked up at him as if trying to evaluate his
next move, he stood on the sidewalk waiting for the UPS truck to pass and he wasn't even sure why. He'd
never known the UPS guy well enough to have an actual conversation. As the truck moved closer, the
driver waved his hand slowly and Lance smiled and waved back. But it wasn't the tall, slim dark-haired
UPS guy who usually delivered packages. This driver was a small, nice-looking young guy with reddish
brown hair and a friendly smile. He reminded Lance of a guy he'd once known in college who had died
after a long battle with Leukemia.
Then Lance turned and walked toward his car, with Mavis in tow, still looking up at him. He didn't
even realize he was whistling an old song as he opened the door and scooped Mavis up so he could strap
her into the harness he kept in the backseat.
About the Author
Ryan Field is the author of over 100 published works of LGBT fiction, the best-selling Virgin
Billionaire series, a PG-rated hetero romance that was featured on The Home Shopping Network titled,
"Loving Daylight," and a few more works of full-length fiction with a pen name. He has worked in
publishing for twenty years as a writer, editor, and associate editor. His work has been in Lambda Award
winning anthologies and he's self-published a few novels with Ryan Field Press. You can reach at
mailto
rfieldj@aol.com
or he blogs at
www ryan-field.blogspot.com
Other Titles by Ryan Field
A Life Filled with Awesome Love
A Regular Bud
A Sign From Heaven Above
A Young Widows Promise
Another Regular Bud
Baby Cakes
Billabong Bang
Bury it Officer
Capping the Season
Captain Velvet's Velvet Box
Cherry Soda Cowboy
Cowboy Howdy
Cowboy Mike and Buddy Boy
Dirty Little Virgin
Four Feet Under
Internal Desires
It's Nice to be Naughty
Jolly Roger
Jonah Sweet of Delancey Street
Kevin Loves Cowboys
Missing Jackson's Hole
New Adult Love Story
Pumpkin Ravioli Boy
Sir, Yes Sir!
Skater Boy
Something for Saint Jude
Strawberries and Cream at the Plaza
That Cowboy in the Window
The Computer Tutor Box
The Women Who Love To Love Gay Romance
Unmentionable: The Men Who Loved on the Titanic
Vance's Flame
Whatever Dude
With this Cowboy I Love so Freely
You Missed a Spot Big Guy
Young Doughy Joey
Ravenous Romance Titles
A Christmas Carl
All about Yves
American Star
American Star II
An Officer and His Gentleman
Dancing Dirty
Field of Dreams
Four Gay Weddings and a Funeral
Gay Pride and Prejudice
Hot Italian Lover
He's Bewitched
Lasting Lust
My Fair Laddie
Pretty Man
Ricky's Business
Rough Naked and in Love
Shakespeare's Lover
Sleepless in San Francisco
Take Me Always
The Bachelor
The Buckhampton Country Club
The Ghost and Mr. Moore
The Mile High Club
The Way We Almost Were
Valley of the Dudes
When Harry Met Sal
Young Hung and Hitched
Virgin Billionaire Series
The Virgin Billionaire
The Virgin Billionaire and the Evil Twin
The Virgin Billionaire's Secret Baby
The Virgin Billionaire's Wedding
The Virgin Billionaire: Revenge
The Virgin Billionaire's Dream House
The Virgin Billionaire's Hot Amish Escapade
The Virgin Billionaire's Little Angel
The Virgin Billionaire's Reversal of Fortune
The Virgin Billionaire's Sexcellent Adventure
Glendora Hill Series
Cowboy Christmas Miracle
Bad Boy Billionaire Series
Cowboy in Love
Silicon Valley Sex Scandal
The Actor Learning to Love
The Ivy League Rake
The Vegas Shark
The Wall Street Shark
Chase Series:
Chase of a Dream - Abridged
Chase of a Dream - Unabridged
Chase of a Lifetime
Chase of an Adventure: Fifty Shades of Gay
Down The Basement Series:
Down the Basement
Down the Basement II: Santa Saturday
Second Chance Series:
Second Chance
Second Chance: The Littlest Christmas Tree