Terry O'Reilly One Night in December

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is

sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and

violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial

sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered

offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be

accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the

product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference

may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is

entirely coincidental.

Cover Design: Selena Kitt

One Night in December © November 2010 Terry O’Reilly

cessica publishing

One Night in December

By Terry O’Reilly

Chapter One: It All Began this Way

"Holy Shit!" I cursed out loud as I crawled along the interstate at a snail's pace.

Only a few truckers and I had not taken the warnings of an impending ice storm

seriously. They whizzed by me like they were invincible. Macho assholes! I swore

silently.

If only it were a few degrees colder, this would be snow, I thought as I looked at

the dangerous precipitation. It should have been snow. It was December, for Christ's

sake—almost Christmas. That's why I was out so late on this wretched night. I'd stayed

at school to finish the skit for the school holiday assembly the next day, the last day

before winter break. My eighth grade homeroom had chosen to do a parody of

Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, using school staff as the victims of Santa's

errant steeds. The kids, of course, had all the good intentions in the world, but as

anyone who works with adolescents will tell you, their follow-through was not always

what it should be. I'd decided to stay and finish it up myself. It was probably the most

Christmas I'd have, so why not?

Now here I was creeping along the expressway, hoping the truckers really did

have the control they seemed to think they did.

Christmas hadn't been fun the last few years. Not since my wife of thirty-one

years passed away the week before the holiday. Since her passing I hadn't done much

with Christmas. After giving me a year to grieve, our kids had encouraged me to

continue with the holiday traditions, but I couldn't. Patti and I had loved Christmas—the

decorating, the baking, the shopping, the whole nine yards. Without her, there didn't

seem to be much point in it. Oh sure, I did my thing for my kids and the grandkids, going

to visit, bringing presents, taking pictures. But at home—in the house, as I referred to it

now—well, I just couldn't.

Another strange thing happened after Patti was gone. When she was here (I

couldn't use the words "alive" and "dead" with regard to her) I had several men friends

with whom I played, sometimes individually, sometimes in groups, on a regular basis.

With them I met my needs for man-on-man contact. Yep, that meant sex. I had no

qualms about it. I figured it was like going out with the boys to golf, bowl or have a few

beers. It had nothing to do with Patti; it was just a fact of my life. I was gay and that side

of me needed attention. I had made the decision to be married, but soon after found I

couldn't put aside the need for men in my life, despite the love I had for Patti and the

kids. I had told her I was gay before we got engaged. I felt that was only fair. Patti

accepted it and said she could live with it. I never told her of my guy friends and she

never asked, so I don't know whether she suspected or not. It didn't seem to be

important. But after she…died—there, I said the word—I was overcome with guilt. I felt

in some way I would be dishonoring her. I couldn't do those things anymore. See my

friends, that is.

In the first year it was easy, as I had no libido at all. Soon the guys stopped

calling and writing. It didn't matter. I no longer cared about that. What a strange turn of

the screw. When I was married and should have been faithful, I had all the sex with men

I needed. Now that I was free to have it, I didn't want it.

After a year things started to change. About that time, the old feelings began to

stir again. I found myself checking out attractive guys and even resumed visiting some

of the old Internet sites I had used. I decided maybe someday I would venture out and

try it again, but for now I'd keep a lid on it.

That was actually why I was on the interstate on this awful night instead of taking

a safer, longer way to the house. In late fall, an obviously homeless man started

showing up at the base of my exit ramp. I don't know why he intrigued me, as I could

barely see any of him. He wore a beat up old coat with a hood that covered most of his

face. All I could tell for sure was that he wasn't overweight. Well, he was homeless,

apparently, so that wasn't a big surprise. The sign he carried confirmed it:

Please help

Will work for food

Please

Man, that tore me up. Every time I went by, I looked for him. Every time I saw

him, I was in turmoil. Should I pick him up and feed him? He looked so vulnerable. He

either sat on a box or stood with his little cardboard sign. His shoulders were slumped

and his head was down. Next to him sat a knapsack and a couple of plastic bags full of

all he had in the world. I never picked him up. It was partially because I'd heard so many

stories about how homeless people are just too lazy to work, or how they're junkies or

drunks and they take advantage of you. But the real reason was I couldn't separate my

compassion from my feelings of sexual desire for this unknown, unseen man. My

fantasies would run wild. I wasn't ready to take the risk. Every time I went by and he

wasn't there, I was relieved, glad someone had given him some help. But I also felt

something that could be described as jealousy. What was going on with that? Every

time I went by and he was there, I was again relieved, this time that he was still okay (or

at least somewhat okay)—but the conflict remained. So it went.

This is stupid, I thought as I approached my exit now. He's not going to be there

on a night like this. You're taking your life in your hands driving on this fucking road just

to get a glimpse of some vagrant. You're a piece of work, all right.

As I exited onto the ramp and my wipers cleared off the spray some daring

trucker had doused me with, my heart leapt. There was someone at the bottom of the

ramp. Wait, there were two someones—no, three. What was going on? Two of them

threw the other into the roadway, then picked up something I couldn't make out and ran

off toward the overpass bridge. As I approached the bottom of the ramp and skidded to

a stop, the guy in the road got up and started running after them, but he tripped on the

curb and sprawled spread-eagled on the muddy, icy ground. I turned on my flashers

and was out of the car in an instant.

"Hey, man, are you all right?" I shouted.

"My stuff! They took all my stuff," he half yelled, half sobbed.

Oh, God! What am I going to do? I thought. Then I ordered, "Come on, get in the

car!"

He started to obey, but then held back.

"Get in the car, damn it!" I yelled. "We can catch them if you move it!"

He complied this time and I put the car in gear, ran the red light at the bottom of

the ramp and turned left. We went under the overpass bridge.

"Where do you bums usually stay?" I asked, not thinking of the effect these

words might have on my passenger.

"Sometimes we sleep up there," he said in a near-whisper, pointing to the top of

the space under the bridge.

I stopped the car and turned the flashers on again. We ran up the side of the

overpass and checked the space under the bridge on both sides of the road. Nothing.

We got back in the car and drove further.

"Anywhere else?" I asked, checking the sides of the road as far as I could see in

the dark and the rain.

"No," came the dull reply.

"Okay." I turned the car around.

As we passed the light at the exit ramp he looked back, then turned to me and

said with some apprehension, "Where are you taking me?"

I looked straight ahead and said, "Home."

* * * *

We drove the short distance to my house in silence. I was too busy trying not to

slide off the road to make conversation, for one thing. For another, I was trying to figure

out why, when he asked where I was taking him, I'd responded, "Home." I hadn't

referred to it as home for a long time. There definitely was something going on within

me. What it was or where it would go I wasn't sure, but some sort of healing process

seemed to have begun.

My passenger sat with his head bowed, his hands on the seat on either side of

him. Pulling onto my street, I hoped I could make it all the way up the small hill to the

house. I shifted the car into low gear and we made slow but steady progress. As I

reached the top of the hill, I hit the brakes too hard and we skidded past the driveway. I

had to back up to give it another try.

As I stopped the car at the end of the drive, I said, "Here we are, mi casa es su

casa." My house is your house. Shit, now why did I say that?

We got out of the car and promptly started to slide down the drive. We had to

hold each other up as we walked along the path to the door. It felt good, my right arm

around his waist, my left holding onto his bicep.

When we reached the stoop, I said, "I hope you like dogs, 'cause there are two

that'll be overjoyed to see us and will express it by trying to lick us to death. So much for

trained watchdogs!"

The last sentence was followed by an attempt on my part to laugh, but it fell flat;

he didn't even act as if he'd heard me.

I opened the door and, as predicted, we were accosted by Jake and Annie. Jake

was a good-sized yellow lab. Annie, though a fair-sized pup, was a diminutive example

of a German shepherd. They immediately lost interest in me and enthusiastically

greeted the newcomer. When he squatted down, the two writhing, ecstatically happy

animals bowled him over on his back and covered him with kisses.

"Whoa there, guys! Jake, Annie!" I called, feeling some panic for his safety. But

he was issuing the first positive noises I'd heard that night—he was laughing. He righted

himself, buried his face in their warm, welcoming fur and hugged them close.

"Well, thanks a lot, you two," I said, feigning hurt. "That's the thanks I get for

feeding your sorry faces."

They completely ignored me and kept letting our guest know he was more than

welcome here. I had to smile, feeling a warm glow at the sight before me.

"I get along well with dogs," he said simply.

"I see that." I watched a moment longer before I said, "I hate to break this up, but

they've been inside since I left for school at seven this morning and they're probably

about to burst." Addressing the dogs, I said, "Let's go out."

They bounded through the dining room to the sliding door that led out to the

deck. I stood and waited while they did their thing out there. They were back in an

instant, as anxious as anyone to get out of the freezing rain and wind.

I turned to find my guest still standing in the entry hall.

"Come on in," I said with open arms.

He walked slowly into the lighted kitchen.

Shit, I thought, he's a mess and now he's really shivering. "Take off that wet

coat," I commanded.

He followed my orders. The hood and coat came away and I got my first real look

at my fantasy of two months. He was dressed in a tee-shirt and faded jeans with holes

in both knees. He wore sneakers but no socks.

Hell, no wonder he's cold, I thought. All these articles of clothing were dirty and

wet. Once more my heart went out to the poor guy. How did this happen to someone?

His hair was matted and came down to his shirt collar. It was hard to tell for sure what

color it was, but I guessed dirty blonde or reddish. He had a scraggly beard that might

have been a Van Dyke once. His hands and face were dirty, the latter streaked with tear

tracks and marks of doggy kisses. The thing that struck me the most were his startlingly

piercing, beautiful blue eyes. Staring into them, I felt my dick react and my heartbeat

increase. A wave of emotion passed over me that stirred something long dormant

inside. It felt like love or at least affection. What was going on here? First off, I don't

believe in love at first sight. Lust at first sight for sure, but love? No way. Second, men

don't love men. Yeah, I know, there's all this talk of same sex marriage and happily-

ever-after, but I couldn't buy into it. Love was between a man and a woman. Men could

have sex with other men, even like them—but love them?

He broke our eye contact and looked down, no doubt ashamed of his condition.

"We have to get you warmed up." I headed him to the first floor bath, steering

him by his shoulders. It was heaven to touch him. I'd had a chance now to look at both

sides of my new charge and could tell that in the not too distant past, this was a body

that had been well taken care of. I dropped off his coat in the laundry room, deciding

that the garbage dumpster would be its next stop. Then I took him into the small

bathroom with its enclosed shower stall.

"You go ahead and get in the shower. Just leave your clothes on the floor. I'll get

you something dry and warm to wear."

Again he regarded me with that I'm sorry to put you out look.

On my way upstairs, I noticed Jake and Annie sitting next to their bowls, looking

expectant and wagging their tails furiously.

"Okay, you beggars," I quipped, and immediately was glad our new friend wasn't

there to be further embarrassed by my lack of tact.

When I filled their bowls, they dove in as if they hadn't eaten all day. Well, that

was true. I smiled at my own befuddled thinking. Those blue eyes were definitely having

an effect on me.

I continued my trip up to the walk-in closet, where I took out my best Michigan

sweats, U of M tee, some white briefs and two pairs of thick, white socks. Back

downstairs, I could hear the shower running. With a light knock on the bathroom door, I

entered. I was pleased to be greeted by the warm, moist air and was glad my guest

wasn't too shy to use the facility to its best potential.

"You doin' okay?"

"Fine, thanks," came the reply over the hiss of the steamy showerhead.

"I'm going to put some clothes here on the toilet seat. I'll get some clean towels

and some other stuff you might need."

"Okay."

I put out a fresh razor, shaving cream, new toothbrush and paste, hairbrush,

comb and deodorant. Damn, I hope he's not offended by this shit, I thought. I didn't want

to embarrass him anymore than he already was.

"Well, the stuff is there if you want. No big deal," I added in an attempt to ward

off any more bad feelings. Fuck, you're probably making it worse, just shut up! I

remonstrated with myself. "I'll go out and see what I can find for us to eat. You're

hungry, right?" Damn, I was falling all over myself. Of course he was hungry. I couldn't

even take my own advice and keep my big mouth shut.

I didn't wait for his response, if he even gave one. I just got out of there before I

said something else to pour more salt in the open wounds, picking up his ragged

clothes on the way. I deposited these and the worn jacket in the dumpster outside,

figuring I had plenty he could choose from to replace them.

I busied myself in the kitchen, trying to find something to feed us. It was

Thursday; I usually shopped on Saturday morning, another pattern from the Patti days.

The kitchen and I were not on the best of terms. Mostly my cooking consisted of heating

things up in the microwave and pre-cooked meals. At least I had enough stuff to make a

nice salad. Deciding I would let him make his own choice, I also set out several cans of

Chunky soups. Hey, hot soup on a cold night ain't all that bad a choice, I rationalized,

then mused, If my students could hear me use that word, they'd never let me forget it.

Once the dogs finished eating, I let them out again and then, as they weren't

allowed in the kitchen during meals, banished them to the living room. Some of Patti's

rules still gave me comfort.

I was just about done with the preparations when I heard something behind me in

the hallway. I don't know how long he had been standing there but there he was, hands

still hanging by his sides, yet looking less stooped, his head held higher.

"Hey, you're lookin' pretty sharp there. Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you," was his quiet reply.

I had to admit he did look one hundred percent better. He had used the razor and

hairbrush. He looked good enough to…Whoa there, hang on. He had tried to trim his

beard back to a Van Dyke and had done a reasonable job on it. His hair, while still

needing a trim, was neat and clean. It was that reddish color I'd suspected, as was his

beard. He wasn't conventionally handsome but his aura made him easy to look at it.

More than anything, it was his eyes, those wonderful blue eyes—they were the finishing

touch that made the whole look. Now I had a chance to really see him, I estimated he

was in his late thirties, maybe early forties; in any case, definitely younger than I by far.

"I hope you're a Michigan fan," I said, referring to the clothing he now wore.

"I graduated from Michigan State," he replied.

Oh geez! I thought, another blunder by the host.

He had a wry smile on his face, though, and I knew he found the situation at least

somewhat amusing. Again the thoughts arose—how could something like this happen

to someone? He was a college-educated man.

"I guess it's about time we introduced ourselves." I smiled, extending my hand.

"I'm Dave. Dave Bennett."

"Andy," he offered, taking my hand in his.

Electric shock! I felt the instant tension in my groin and tried not to gasp. It had

been a long time since I'd had a reaction like this. I swallowed hard. He didn't seem to

notice.

"I made us a salad, Andy. There are dressings on the breakfast counter." I took a

steadying breath and let those unexpected feelings drain away. "I thought I'd let you

choose your own soup. Ah, there's chili, too, if you like."

My lack of culinary skill made it my turn to be embarrassed, but he didn't seem to

notice and chose the chili.

"Good choice," I said, trying to make conversation. "That's my favorite, too. Well,

I'm not saying it's your favorite, but I just thought that, well…you chose it, so I…shit, I'll

shut up now and we'll get this meal started."

He laughed. It was a wonderful laugh, full and rich. It filled the whole room. The

tension broke and we both relaxed.

"What would you like to drink?" I asked. "I have wine, beer and I made some

coffee. Decaf, if that's okay. I can't drink regular. There's milk, too, I think, if it hasn't

gone bad."

"Coffee would be fine, black. I need to stay away from the wine and beer."

Here was another clue to the mystery of this guy who now stood in my kitchen,

wearing my clothes and filling me with feelings I never thought I'd have again, as well as

some I didn't understand.

As we ate at the breakfast bar sitting side by side, I switched on the counter TV

to see what was going on with the storm. They were saying if you had no reason to be

out, stay in. I checked to see if Andy had any reaction to those words, but couldn't

discern any.

While we sat eating, I noticed Jake and Annie had sneaked into the room, daring

to break the "no kitchen" rule to be near their new friend. Jake lay on the floor at Andy's

feet and Annie stood with her head resting on his thigh, both saying he was welcome

here. I had to agree. I didn't have the heart to banish them from the kitchen. Silently I

offered my apologies to Patti. That seemed to do something inside of me. I felt the grip

of grief loosen.

"They sure like you," I offered.

"Well, the feeling's mutual," he said, scratching Annie behind the ear, causing

Jake to stand and push his big head in for his share. "I guess it's my love for animals

and their affection for me that led me to become a vet."

"Ah," I said, "Michigan State."

State was one of the best veterinary medicine schools in the country. Now things

were coming together. But how could a veterinarian wind up sleeping under a bridge

and getting mugged in the freezing rain?

My questions must have registered on my face because he said, "I guess I owe

you an explanation."

"You don't owe me anything. You can tell me what you want, when you want, if

you want."

"Thanks," he replied, but he didn't go on.

* * * *

After dinner, if you could label it that, I cleaned up. Andy offered to help but I told

him to go sit in the family room and relax. The dogs followed him to the room off the

dining room. When I joined them a few minutes later, Andy was leaning back on the

couch with his eyes closed. The dogs were once again at his feet. They raised their

heads in greeting but didn't change position when I chose to sit on the love seat across

from Andy rather than invade his space.

A million thoughts seemed to crowd into my mind at once. What was I doing this

for? I wanted to help him, sure, but it was more than that. Did I want someone in my life

again? That was becoming clearer as the evening progressed and I found myself

experiencing such strong feelings for this man. But how illogical all this was! First, Andy

was a homeless man I'd rescued from a storm. What were the chances of his being

gay? Second, even on the outside chance he was gay, he was younger than I by fifteen

years or more, maybe even twenty. Would he be interested in me? I shook my head,

trying to shut off the stream of confusing thoughts.

But it didn't work; I kept on thinking. Third, what would the kids think? Well, I

would cross that bridge when I came to it.

Stop this! I remonstrated with myself again. This is fantasy. Your main concern is

that he gets some rest and maybe gets some direction for his life, period.

Just then, Andy stirred. "I'm sorry. I must have dozed off."

"No problem, man. You've had quite a night. Would you like to go to bed or watch

a little TV?"

"Bed, I think," he said, suppressing a yawn. "I really appreciate all of this." With

that, Andy's beautiful blue eyes brimmed over with tears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," was all

he could manage to say.

Immediately I moved to the couch and put my arm around his shuddering

shoulders. "Hey, Andy, it's okay, I understand." Well, I didn't, but I knew what it meant to

need to let the hurt out. I had done that plenty over the past few years.

We stayed there for a while. He cried quietly, his hands over his face while I sat

with my arm around his shoulder, rubbing his upper arm with my other hand, feeling

both protective and sexually aroused. Shit, the confusion of feelings was almost more

than I could take.

Finally Andy wiped his face on his sleeve and looked at me. "I didn't mean to do

that to you."

"Like I said, I understand. I've done a lot of that myself in the last couple of years

since my wife d— ah, passed away. It would have been nice to have someone to put

their arms around me then."

He didn't say anything. He looked into my eyes as if trying to process the

information he had just been given. Had I said too much?

"Well, let's see about getting you into the sack." I cringed at the Freudian slip.

"Follow me."

I took him upstairs and showed him the bathroom. While he was in there, I made

sure the back bedroom was presentable. I hadn't used it in years but I had enough

sense to keep it vacuumed and dusted, just as Patti would have wanted. The sheets

were clean and the pillows fluffy; a lot better than the cold cement under the bridge, at

any rate. Once more the unbelievability of his situation flitted across my mind.

When he appeared in the doorway, I gestured toward the bed. "Here ya go."

He walked into the room, taking in the shelves behind me with all the trophies

testifying to years of attendance at athletic activities I'd happily endured.

"Quite impressive," he said. "Your kids must have been into just about

everything."

"Yes. You might especially appreciate these," I said, indicating the last shelf with

all the ribbons and trophies my youngest daughter, Meg, had won showing her horses.

My daughter and I had spent many happy years doing the horse show circuit and had

been quite successful.

Andy's face lit up as he walked to the shelf and started to examine the photos

and awards. Much to my delight, his professional expertise showed as he said, "She

had some quality animals there."

"Thanks. Well, I'll let you get some rest." I walked over and placed my hand on

his shoulder. "Good night. If you need anything, I'm just down the hall."

He didn't return the gesture but simply said, "Good night, and thanks again."

I went back downstairs followed by the dogs, who had come up to make sure our

guest was comfortable. I performed my usual routine of putting out the dogs one last

time and straightening up the house. After turning out the lights, I returned upstairs. The

dogs were ahead of me but they didn't turn into our room. Instead they headed for

Andy's room. Quietly I looked in the door. Jake was on the floor next to the bed but

Annie was up on the bed, curled up against Andy's chest with his arm draped over her.

You lucky dog, I mused as I went to my own bed.

* * * *

The phone rang. It was a computer-generated message telling me school had

been closed due to inclement weather and we all should have a happy winter break (it

was politically incorrect these days to wish anyone a "Merry Christmas" at school). I

have to admit, I missed the old-fashioned method where one teacher would call the next

to let everyone know they could go back to sleep. For years the gym teacher for my

middle school had called me. He was a wise guy who always had some special way of

getting the message across, and besides, he was quite a hunk and had a voice to

match. On days he called, he often triggered a very satisfying fantasy response.

I rolled over and stretched out on the bed. I thought about sleeping late but

decided I should just go about my usual routine. I looked out the window. The world

outside was all crystal and diamonds. It was unreal. It was breathtaking. It was also

frightening to think Andy would have been out there somewhere in this if I hadn't

decided to take the interstate home. I smiled. I'd used the word home again. It wasn't

just the house now.

I tiptoed down the hall. Both dogs were on the bed now. I smiled and shook my

head. Andy's mouth was slightly open, a thin trail of spittle running down his cheek.

Lying on his back, he was tenting the heavy covers slightly.

Wow, I couldn't help thinking, if he can make that comforter stand up, he must

have…Uh oh, there I go again.

"Come on," I gestured to Annie and Jake. They ignored me, content to stay and

guard their buddy. "Come now," I mouthed and gave a hand signal.

Reluctantly they jumped down. Andy turned on his side away from me, denying

me the joy of imagining what lay beneath the covers.

The dogs and I went downstairs and out on the deck. I was shirtless but was

wearing slippers and a pair of boxers. Immediately I broke out in goose bumps and

headed back inside while the dogs slipped and slid all over the ice rink we now had for a

backyard. When they'd had enough and came in, I fed them, then took my morning

vitamins and medications before heading for the basement to do my normal workout.

I was about halfway through my exercises when the dogs arrived downstairs,

announcing the arrival of our guest. When Andy rounded the corner, his eyes widened

perceptibly as he saw me sitting there, legs spread and taking some deep breaths,

having just finished my final set of bench presses. His eyes swept my frame from top to

bottom. I was sure he hesitated when he reached my groin. I was gratified by his

response to my semi-nakedness. Hope bloomed in my chest.

Then he said, "Wow, this is some home gym."

Well, it could have been in response to my bod, couldn't it? I hoped. "Yes, I

guess it is. I set it up for my son, Pete, when he was into football. I coached his junior

league team. I wanted to make sure he was using the right technique when he decided

to bulk up for high school."

"It sure looks like you've gotten some good use out of it yourself."

Once more I believed all things were possible. "Thanks, I try. It gets a little

tougher as you get older." Now, why did I say that and draw attention to the difference in

our ages?

"You can't be all that old and look as good as you do."

Am I hearing this right? I thought. Oh, happy day.

"You said you had kids?"

"Uh huh, four—two girls, two boys. Meg, Kathy and Peter are married. Meg and

Kathy live here in Michigan. Peter and his wife Angie live in Chicago. Between them all,

I have six grandkids."

"Not possible," he said.

Things were really looking up now. "And Mike is the oldest. He lives in Boston

with his partner, John."

Uh oh—TMI, too much information. Andy's face went blank. He stared at his feet.

"Well, um, I think I'll go upstairs and let you get done down here. Um, I'll see you

later." With that Andy turned abruptly and left.

Oh shit. Things had been going well, or so I'd thought. Had I misread his

interest? The dogs followed him out the door. Annie turned to give me that won't you

ever learn? look before disappearing.

I hadn't even thought to censor that last bit of news about Mike and John. The

whole family had accepted that Mike was gay and John had been welcomed just as the

spouses of the straight kids had, so I never thought it would come as a shock. I was so

used to being open about it that it was out the door without thought to how Andy might

take it. I couldn't help wondering why he had reacted that way. Was he homophobic? I

decided to let it go and finish my workout. I was letting my imagination go too far.

In the downstairs bathroom, I showered, shaved and made myself presentable.

Then I went looking for Andy. He was standing in the living room, staring out the big bay

window. The sun was beginning to come up, the first rays hitting the ice-encrusted trees

and shrubs. The effect was magical. I came up behind him and we stood looking out the

window together. I had always loved sharing special moments like this with someone I

cared about. It felt good to do it again. Andy turned to me. Once again his eyes shone

with tears, mirroring the glistening panorama beyond the windowpanes.

I smiled what I hoped was a sympathetic, encouraging smile. He took a deep

breath and said, "Can I make us breakfast?"

What the hell is this? No sudden declaration of love, no falling into each other's

arms fulfilling our mutual desires? Just, "Can I make us breakfast?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," I mumbled, trying to regain my balance and get my thoughts

back in reality. "I think I have eggs and stuff."

"That's great." He walked past me into the kitchen.

For the next hour I helped Andy find what he needed while he made the best

breakfast I'd had in years.

"That was wonderful," I said. "You sure can cook. You're hired, if you want the

job."

Oh no, did I do it again?

Evidently not, because he smiled and said, "Thanks, I really enjoy cooking."

* * * *

After we'd cleaned up the kitchen and tried in vain to take the dogs for a walk on

the slippery sidewalks, Andy asked, "Can we talk?"

"Sure."

"I think it's time I came clean with you."

"Only if you're ready," I said, hoping he was.

We walked into the family room and sat at either end of the couch, facing each

other. I tried to keep a look of calm, patient anticipation on my face, but I could hardly

stand the suspense. I was finally going to hear his story.

We sat there for probably five minutes. To me it seemed like hours. I surmised

Andy was trying to collect his thoughts, deciding where to begin, stirring up the courage

to talk about it. I was starting to think he'd changed his mind. I fought the urge to fidget.

Then Andy took a deep breath. "I was married," he began. "Her name was Julie.

We met in Vet School at State. We were married before we graduated." His words were

simple and he hesitated before each sentence, as if he wanted to be sure he said it just

right. "After graduation we set up a veterinarian practice backed by her father. She did

the small animals and I did the farm stuff, primarily horses."

The little clues I'd been getting since his arrival were falling into place.

Andy continued, "Things went very well for a couple of years. Almost too well.

Our practice grew. Julie became involved in research as well as her general practice.

She published some very good studies and was in demand to present papers at

conferences around the country. She couldn't keep up with her patients at home, so we

hired a vet to hold up her end of the practice. I was spending more time in the office.

The new vet and I became, ah, quite close."

Andy paused for so long, I thought he might be reluctant to go on.

After a while he continued. "We began sharing meals together at the house after

the clinic was closed for the day. One night we decided to share more than the meal.

We were in the bedroom, undressed, on the bed just starting to—well, just starting. We

actually hadn't done anything. And—" He stopped again.

After a time I prompted, "And Julie came home?"

"Yes. Her flight out of Detroit had been cancelled, so she was going to take one

in the morning instead.

"She freaked out. She yelled and screamed and called us all sorts of names. She

ordered us out of the house. I didn't know what to do, so I just left. I went to a motel.

Alone.

"Over the next months she sued for divorce, sued for the practice, everything.

During that time I started to drink. I was devastated. Humiliated. I sank lower and lower.

The final straw was when I discovered she'd been seeing someone else herself and

wanted out of the marriage. She'd used this as an excuse to make it happen on her

terms. That's when I gave up. I had nothing left. I couldn't get a job as a vet because of

my drinking and because of the influence of her family. I don't really remember how I got

to Ann Arbor or started living under the bridge."

Now it was my turn to have tears in my eyes. I wanted so badly to take Andy in

my arms and hold him and show him someone cared, cared very deeply. I didn't know

what to do. I just sat there for the longest time. We were both crying.

The dogs did what I couldn't. They put their heads on Andy's lap. He buried his

face in their soft warmth and acceptance.

To this day, I don't know why I asked this question. But I did, and now I am so

glad I did. "Was the other vet you hired…a man?"

Andy sat for so long I thought he hadn't heard me. I was about to ask again when

he slowly raised his head and turned to me. He looked down at the couch, then into my

eyes. His beautiful blue eyes, sparkling with tears, bored into mine.

"Yes, he was."

* * * *

We sat in the family room for almost an hour, neither of us saying anything, each

with his own thoughts. Mine were on the lines of, Where do I go from here? How do I tell

him I'm gay? That I want him to be whole and happy again? How do I let him know how

much I care for him? I had never been down this road before. The guys I'd played with

were in the same situation I was; married. We got together to have sex and get relief.

We liked each other, but this was different. This was something more, at least for me.

What that something was, I didn't know. I felt myself getting anxious, panicky. I had to

say something, do something. But what?

"Well, I guess I better be going," Andy said.

"What! Where?" I asked lamely. Say something, you idiot! This isn't how you

want it to end! Say something! Let him know you want him to stay!

"I guess back to the bridge. Where are my clothes?"

"I threw the fucking clothes out!" I shouted. "And the hell you are going back to

that bridge." Oh, now that's the way to approach this. Way to go, jerk!

Andy's eyes got wide and he recoiled from me physically. I got up and started

pacing the floor. “Fuck,” I yelled, running my hands through what would have been my

hair if I'd had any. “Shit!” He and the dogs followed my every move as I continued to

pace. "Damn it!"

Andy's mouth fell open and Jake whined. Annie, the sensitive one, rose and tried

to jump up on me to make it all better, her tail between her legs. I ignored her. "You're

not going back there! Unless you want to go naked, 'cause I threw your fuckin' rags

away. Those are my clothes you're wearing. And if you leave with them, I'll call the

police and have you thrown in jail for robbery. At least there you'll be warm and have

three meals a day and I won't have to worry about you anymore—"

I was desperate. I knew this wasn't the way to go, but I couldn't stop. All I wanted

was for Andy to say he would stay.

Then I was crying, sobbing, and he was holding me, brushing away my tears.

"How can you care about me?" he said. "A failure, a faggot, a drunk?"

"The drunk we can handle, the faggot makes us even, and the failure you are

not," I said, still sobbing but knowing the tears were changing to joyous ones. "And by

the way," I countered, "how could you care about me, a depressed old queer living in

this house of memories? Answer me that?"

We were both laughing and crying at the same time. The dogs jumped around

barking. It was like they were celebrating—celebrating two souls who seemed to have

found what they had been looking for, for so long.

I kissed him.

Chapter Two: Christmas Comes Early

"I have an idea. Let's decorate the house for Christmas," I said.

This time Andy kissed me. It was one of those long, gentle kisses that said so

much about how someone felt about you. There was underlying passion, but on the

surface it said simply how good it was to be with someone you cared about.

Andy stepped back, took both my hands in his and looked down at the floor. He

stood that way for a long time. Then he slowly raised his head. His incredible blue eyes

were locked directly into mine. He squeezed my hands.

"David, you're sure?"

"Sure? Sure, I'm sure. I haven't decorated in years and I just know that now is the

time to—"

"No," he interrupted my exuberant babbling.

"No? What do you mean, 'no?' You know, 'Haul out the holly. Put up the tree

before my spirit falls again,'" I sang.

He laughed. He had a wonderful laugh. I could have listened to it all night.

"I mean, are you sure you want me to stay? We've only known each other for a

day. Actually less than twenty-four hours. You really don't know anything about me."

"I know that!" I snapped. "I mean—" I was aware that my response had been

much stronger than warranted. "I mean, I understand this has all happened so quickly."

Too quickly? I wondered to myself.

Andy smiled. I was relieved my sudden, over-the-top response hadn't done any

damage.

"I just don't want you to get down the road a ways, only to regret having said

some things that would make it hard for you to change some decisions your statements

may have implied," he said.

Was Andy nervous?

"Andy," I said, pulling him into an embrace, "I doubt very much I will change my

mind about you staying."

"Thank you, David. This seems like a dream right now and I don't want to wake

up and find it was just that—a dream."

I kissed him. "Deal. Now get a coat from the closet and follow me."

"Where are we going?"

"Out to the shed to get Claudia."

"Claudia?"

"Yes, Claudia. Our Christmas tree."

Andy gave me a wide-eyed what have I gotten myself into look as he took a coat

and followed me out of the house.

As we slipped and slid over the frozen ground with the dogs frolicking around us,

I explained that Claudia was an artificial Christmas tree the kids had named many years

before. We'd always had artificial trees because when Patti and I had lived in married

student housing, we weren't allowed to have live trees. So we bought a fake tree at

Woolworth's in Arborland that vaguely resembled a six-foot, green, many-armed

bottlebrush. We named him Chris. As the years passed and we moved into our own

house, we tried a live tree but the kids insisted only Chris would do. When he got to the

age when he could no longer hold up his branches, we replaced him with Claudia, an

expensive, fake blue spruce.

By the time I was done with my story, we'd carried all three parts of Claudia into

the family room. While I assembled her, I sent Andy downstairs to retrieve the

ornaments, assuring him they'd be easy to find as all the boxes were carefully labeled .

We spent a wonderful evening decorating the tree while listening to Christmas carol

CDs.

After dinner, cooked again by Andy, the new master chef, we sat on the couch

and enjoyed our efforts.

Andy looked at me. "You okay, David?"

This was the first time I had decorated since Patti had passed away. Was I okay?

I looked at him. "Yes, I am," I said, and I meant it.

"She looks beautiful," Andy said.

I smiled. He had picked up quickly on the humanization of our family tree.

"So do you," I said as I pulled him to me.

The next thing I knew we were on the floor in front of the tree. His lips and tongue

sought mine. We ran our hands over each other's bodies, exploring, discovering,

yielding, surrendering. I slipped the U of M sweatshirt off over his head. He lay there

looking up at me. I studied his chest, arms, abdomen. A light covering of red hair met

my gaze. It led down to the waistband of his sweatpants, which I slid off as he raised his

hips. A beautiful, uncut cock rose from a nest of auburn hair, curving slightly to the left.

My own response was instantaneous and intense.

I bent my head to engulf this offering of beauty when he stopped me. I looked up.

"What—"I began.

His fingers on my lips silenced me.

"I…I've never done this before. I don't know what to do." Blushing, he got up and

sat cross-legged before me.

I rocked back on my knees. He looked so irresistible and so innocent at the same

time.

"But I thought…you said…the vet that Julie caught you with—"

"We never got that far."

"Oh?" I thought for a minute. "Well, let's have you take the lead." I lay down on

my back next to him.

He stayed where he was for a while before he laid his naked body next to mine.

He kissed me. Over and over he kissed me. Then he took off my tee-shirt and unzipped

my jeans, sliding them off along with my boxers. He knelt before me, taking in my now

naked body. His penis rose above my scrotum. A drop of pre-cum formed at the tip and

then descended slowly. As the thread of natural lubricant reached my balls, I shuddered

and moaned.

As if this were a cue, he stretched out on top of me, kissing me more and more

passionately, grinding his hips into me, our penises pressed against each other. Just

when I thought we were both going to reach our peak, he sat up. We looked deeply into

each others' eyes. He raised my legs and placed them on his shoulders.

I couldn't believe this was going to happen. It had been so long. I was usually the

top, yet I wanted this more than I had wanted anything in my life.

"Andy," was all I could manage.

He smiled and began to rub pre-cum over his now exposed head. Then with one

swift movement he entered me. No preparation, no waiting for me to adjust to the

invasion. He was all the way in to where I could feel his pubic hair against my testicles. I

stifled a cry of pain and gasped out his name again, hoping it didn't convey the

discomfort I felt from his inexperience.

Apparently he didn't suspect he'd taken me by surprise. He began to thrust,

slowly penetrating deeper and deeper. I endured the pain, until it began to turn to

pleasure. Then I relaxed, allowing our union to move from physical to emotional, and

finally to spiritual.

"Andy, Andy," I moaned as he bent and tongued my nipples and chest.

He kissed me as deeply as I had ever experienced. When he came, he moaned

my name into my mouth and collapsed onto me. Breathing heavily, he ran his hands up

and down my sides. He raised up, his breath coming more easily. Tears shone in his

eyes.

"David," he half sobbed, "I think I love you."

* * * *

I woke up the next morning in a tangle of arms, legs and dogs. Some time during

the night I must have gotten up and covered us with polar fleece blankets and provided

us with pillows from the couches. Snatches of the previous night came back to me—the

incredible lovemaking, Andy's declaration of love and his request that I teach him all

there was to know about man-to-man loving so he could pleasure me in every way

possible. He'd been contrite that I hadn't had the opportunity to climax myself. I'd told

him I was more than satisfied. In fact, I enjoyed that I was still sexually aroused and

even relished the sexual tension, despite having a slightly sore butt. I tactfully withheld

that last bit of information. He said he knew someday soon it would be my turn. I took

him at his word, and we'd drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

Now I lay in the early morning light and the glow of Claudia, rejoicing in the

knowledge that I had this man in my life and that it seemed we were falling in love. I

certainly would take him up on his request to teach him all I knew. I could hardly wait.

The dogs must have sensed I was awake because they rose and I was treated to

a barrage of doggy kisses. I got up and walked with them to the sliding door in the

dining room. As they went off to take care of their needs, I went into the kitchen and

filled their bowls. By the time I took my morning meds and vitamins, the dogs were

ready to come in and devour their breakfasts.

Returning to the family room, I saw Andy was awake and had his eyes fixed on

my nakedness. I was semi-hard, my penis swaying back and forth as I walked to our

makeshift bed. I blushed as his eyes honed in on my tumescence. He smiled and raised

his arms to me. I sank into his embrace.

"I'm ready for my first lesson, if you are?" he said. He pulled the covers back and

I once again beheld his magnificent manhood, standing proudly amidst his nest of red

pubic hair. "At your command, my liege."

I took his face in my hands and started to kiss him. He responded by opening his

mouth and allowing me to enter with my tongue. As our passions mounted, I prepared

to make my way down his body with my mouth to claim as my own his engorged cock.

The phone rang.

Shit! I'll just ignore it, I thought.

"Dad, pick-up," came the voice on the answering machine.

"I better get that," I said reluctantly. "It's my daughter, Meg."

As I got up, the dogs took my place at Andy's side. I left with a glance over my

shoulder to see him burying his face in Annie's soft fur. Envious, I made my way to the

kitchen extension with my protuberant manhood pointing the way.

"Hi, Meg."

"Oh, good, you're okay."

"Why shouldn't I be?" I asked.

"Well, the ice storm and all. I would have called yesterday but our electricity was

out. Our phones are remotes and they don't work when the power is out."

"I told you and Sean to get cell phones," I chided.

"Christmas is coming, Santa, hint, hint," she rejoined with that delightful laugh I

had loved for years.

"Other than checking up on the old man, what did you want?"

"First, tell me what you did with your day off. I bet you slept all day."

I smiled. My day off had been eventful to say the least, but it was not something I

was going to share with my youngest child. No way.

"Well, we decorated Claudia."

"We?"

"Uh, yeah, the dogs and I." I hoped I had covered my mistake.

"Oh, Daddy," she cried, reverting to her childhood name for me. "How wonderful.

What made you decide to do that? Oh, I'm so happy."

"I'm glad that makes you happy, Moo." I followed suit by calling her the nickname

she wore as a kid. "I guess I just decided I needed to move on with my life." Looking

through to the family room, I saw the object of my moving on. He was still stroking the

dogs, lying on his back with his dick pointing the way to his naval. My own dick twitched

at the sight.

I tuned back in to what Meg was saying. "This is so cool, 'cause it's also why I

called. I've made some tentative plans for Christmas and want to bounce 'em off you."

"Shoot."

"Okay, now, I think maybe Mike and John should stay with you as they aren't as

used to kids and may want time to themselves. I thought Peter and Angie could stay

with us and that way the cousins could play and get to know each other."

She had taken Patti's place as family social chairman. She was so much like her

mother. I was smiling paternally to myself when the impact of what she was saying hit

me. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. My gaze zoomed in on Andy.

Oh my God! I thought. I let out an audible gasp.

"Dad? Is something wrong?"

"No, no," I stammered. "Uh, all that sounds great. Just give me a minute to think

about it, and I'll call you back."

I don't remember the rest of the conversation. I was only aware I had a man in

my house. I was sleeping with him, I intended to explore our futures together, and my

kids, other than Mike, had no idea I was gay.

When I returned to the family room and Andy saw my face, he got a wary look on

his own. "Something's wrong. Is there a problem?"

"Yep," I replied, sinking to my knees and taking him in my arms.

"What is it?"

"You!"

We lay there for a few minutes.

Head against my chest, he asked, "What did she say?"

I filled him in on the gist of the conversation. "So the problem is I have to find a

way to explain…to introduce…to let them know…" I was fumbling all over the place.

"Maybe I should just leave?" There was something akin to fear in his voice.

"Hell, no!" Once again, as was my custom, I overreacted when I didn't like a

situation. Softening my voice and holding him closer, I said, "There's a way to work this

out. I just have to find it."

Andy was quiet for a while. Then he said, "Your son Mike is gay. Does he know

about you?"

"Yes, he does. And…?" I encouraged him to go on.

"Well, maybe he has something to suggest about this situation that might help."

"Thank you!" I kissed him and started to get up to call Mike, then stopped. "I hope

you don't mind waiting a bit for those lessons you requested. You still want them, don't

you?"

"Ubetchim, Red Ryder!"

Red Ryder? "How do you know about Red Ryder? That show had to be way

before your time." Maybe there wasn't that much difference in our ages after all.

"Horse vets know all about cowboys," he replied with a wink.

"Well then, ubetchim, Little Beaver," I replied using the name of the cowboy in

question's Indian sidekick.

We both laughed.

We pulled on our sweatpants and went to the phone in the kitchen. I speed-

dialed Mike's number. After two rings there was an answer.

"Hello?"

"Hello, John," I said to my son's partner. "How are you?"

We talked for a few minutes about this and that. All the while my heart was

beating faster and faster. I was anxious to get to the nub of my call. Andy sat nearby,

looking at me expectantly.

Finally John said, "I'll get Mike for you. Nice talking to you, Dad."

Mike came on the line. "Hi, father of mine. What's goin' on?"

After we talked about the upcoming holiday and the arrangements Meg was

making, I said, "Mike, I have something important to discuss with you and I need some

advice."

Mike was silent, waiting. He always was a good listener and problem solver.

That's what made him so good at his job as a marketing and sales director for a major

insurance company in Boston.

"Mike." I took a deep breath and looked at Andy, who nodded encouragingly.

"I've met someone."

"Dad, that's great! I was saying to John just the other day that I hoped you would

be able to let go and move forward soon. Tell me about him!"

Tell me about him? My brain froze. How did he know?

"Uh, how do you know it's a him?" Despite having come out to my son, it was still

disconcerting to think it was obvious to him that my choice in a possible mate would be

a man.

"Come on, Dad, I know you loved Mom deeply, but I also saw how you looked at

John and me when we were home. I figured when the time came for the second chance

at love, you would fulfill that desire."

At first I didn't know how to react to those words. He was right, but at the same

time I felt guilty that my need for a man in my life had shone through despite my love for

Patti and the family.

"So, you want to know how to introduce him to the family?"

Mike was so perceptive. "Yes, how am I going to go about that? You're the only

one who knows I'm…gay." I still had trouble saying it to my son.

"Well," Mike started to formulate a plan, "we should plan a meeting for the

siblings. I don't think the spouses should be there just yet. I don't think—ah, what's his

name?"

"Andy. Andrew…" I froze again with a deer in the headlights look on my face.

Andy raised his head and smiled questioningly. I didn't know his last name. What would

Mike think? Here I was talking about the new person in my life and I didn't know his

name.

"Hang on a minute, Mike."

"What's your last name?" I mouthed, blushing.

"What?" he mouthed back.

"Your last name?" I said softly, covering the mouthpiece.

"Barnes," he said in a low tone and chuckled.

"Sorry, Mike, Andy was saying something. His name is Andrew Barnes," I

announced, hoping Mike hadn't noticed anything.

Mike chuckled. He had noticed. Oh well.

"Nice. Anyway, I don't think Andy should be there, either."

Mike went on to outline what he had in mind. I nodded, grunted and asked a few

questions. I was pleased Andy had thought of this resource. I couldn't have handled this

with the emotions I was feeling, the need for it to be all right with everyone and the fear

it wouldn't be accepted.

"Thanks, Mike, so much. I'm so glad I have you to help with this."

"Not a problem. I'll wait to hear from you, then, about when the meeting will be. I

love you, Dad. Give Andy a hug for me and tell him we're anxious to meet him."

My eyes filled with tears. Oh, Mikey, I thought. My little guy had grown to be a

friend as well as a son.

"I love you, too. I promise to give Andy that hug," I said. Andy smiled and gave

me the thumbs up. "Give John one for…us, too."

I hung up the phone and smiled at Andy. "Here's the plan."

* * * *

As we worked out in the exercise room and later while fixing breakfast, I filled

Andy in on the strategy Mike had outlined. I have to admit I was highly distracted from

time to time by the sight of my new lover's body in action. I'd been right. He had taken

care of himself prior to his decline into homelessness. He knew how to lift and had good

technique besides his other, exciting attributes.

The plan was to have the kids over a couple of evenings prior to Christmas Eve.

It would be just the siblings, not their spouses or children. John would take Andy out for

the evening. If things went well, Mike would call them and they could come back, and I

would introduce Andy. I felt my stomach tighten just thinking about it.

Mike had assured me it wasn't as dire a situation as I'd feared. First of all, Kathy

knew I was gay. Mike and Kathy had been very close growing up. She'd been the one to

encourage him to come out to us. When he did, I had confided in him that I more than

understood, as I shared his orientation. I asked him not to say anything. However, when

his sister asked how it went, he told her about me. He swore her to secrecy as per my

request.

Well, one more on my side, I thought sardonically.

Meg would have more of a reaction, Mike said. It's hard for kids to see their

parents as sexual beings, let alone homosexual beings. Even Mike had had a bit of a

struggle with it when I'd told him, although he was relieved I had insight into his world.

Meg was like her mother. She always wanted everyone to be happy and comfortable.

She would understand but might need time to process the idea.

Peter, on the other hand, would be a different story. When Mike had come out to

the family, Peter had had a personal crisis. He was afraid if Mike was gay, he would be,

too. According to Mike, Peter had felt some attraction to men. He panicked at first but

he talked it through with Mike and had come to a degree of comfort. Mike wasn't sure

where he was with this at the moment. I silently prayed he wasn't in the situation I'd

been in with Patti.

When I finished explaining, I took a last swallow of decaf and asked, "What do

you think?"

Andy was quiet for a long time. I was beginning to see this was a pattern. At last

he said, "You know your kids better than I do. If you think this is the best plan, then I'm

all for it."

I sensed something more was coming.

"David, you're taking such a chance with this. I don't want you to lose your family

over me. Maybe it would be better if I—"

Stifling my usual over-the-top response, I went and knelt in front of him. Taking

his face in both of my hands, I kissed him gently on the forehead, chin, each cheek and

then his lips.

"Hell, no," I whispered. "By the way, you stink! Let's hop in the shower."

"Together?"

"Yes, together. It's time for your first lesson."

In the bathroom, we watched each other slip out of sweatpants, socks and

exercise shorts. We weren't going to rush this moment. I turned to adjust the shower. As

I did, Andy pressed his body against my back. I could feel him getting firmer as he

pressed himself between my glutes. He kissed the back of my neck and ran his hands

over my chest, abdomen and genitals. I was in heaven. I stepped under the warm spray

and pulled him to me. Our chests met, as did our throbbing penises. Our kisses were

deep and long.

When we broke apart I handed him the soap. Slowly, sensuously, he lathered my

body, every crack and crevice, every joint and muscle. I took the soap from him and

repeated the procedure. We held each other, slowly turning to allow the soap to rinse

down the drain.

I looked him straight in the eye, then eased my way down his body. When I

reached his nipples, his moan of pleasure was so loud I was sure the neighbors could

hear. I had discovered one of his favorite erogenous zones; I filed away the information

for future reference. I continued my descent until I was entangled in his pubic hair. I

stayed there for several minutes, enjoying the feel, smell and taste of his luxuriant bush.

Then I leaned back and studied his manhood, waving proudly before me. I looked up.

He was watching, a look of expectant ecstasy on his face.

I pulled his foreskin all the way back and slowly slid my mouth over the glans and

down the shaft. I took in every contour, each vein. I could feel his heartbeat in the

throbbing of his organ. I set up a slow rhythm with my lips and mouth. He matched this

with his hips. Too soon his body tensed and he growled. My mouth was filled with his

seed. I swallowed like a man dying of thirst. I had tasted him and knew I would never

get enough.

He pulled me to my feet, kissed me and tasted his own cum for the first time. It

seemed to invigorate him. He kissed harder and deeper.

"Now it's time to see how good a student I've been, Mr. Bennett."

He imitated my actions to a tee. He spent extra time on my navel and between

my legs and scrotum. He sighed deeply and called my name. Then he hesitantly took

my penis in his mouth, a little too lightly at first but that was probably good, because

with the stimulation I'd had the previous night and that morning, I was more than ready

to let loose and relieve the pressure. With subtle encouragement from my hips, he soon

had things going just right. I felt that wonderful tightness in the head, then the feeling

that something was squeezing my balls. I knew I was only seconds away.

"You don't have to take—"

That was as far as I got. At my words he increased his stroke and pressure and

swallowed me to the base. He gagged and then began swallowing what I was offering

him. Soon he stood and shared my semen with me.

"How'd I do, Teach?"

"A+."

Well, maybe it was more an A-, but he was good, so good. I wanted to

encourage him all I could.

* * * *

That night in bed and during the days that followed, the lessons continued. Soon

he was easily coming to orgasm twice and even three times. At my age I was happy I

could still manage it once a day. Sometimes he could coax a second coming (no pun

intended) out of me. I still hadn't gotten my turn but I was beginning to enjoy the

subordinate position as much as I had enjoyed the top, so it wasn't too great a sacrifice.

Besides, I didn't want to rush him. I decided if it never happened, that was okay with me.

He was becoming a real savant at oral sex and pleasured me no end with that alone.

Often we would climax with our cocks trapped between our abdomens, and that was

great, too. It was good to have the thrill of new love to distract us because as the days

counted down to The Meeting, I became increasingly uneasy. once we were in bed or

on the floor in front of Claudia, though, nothing else seemed to matter.

We accomplished other things as well. We went shopping and, despite his

protests, I got him started on his own wardrobe. Not that he couldn't wear anything he

wanted of mine—we were almost the same size or soon would be when he got some

meat on those bones.

We also did Christmas shopping for the family. When we splurged and had the

presents wrapped, he talked me out of putting both our names on the Christmas tags.

He was right, of course. I was just trying to put the best spin on things I could, but if it

backfired, I would have felt terrible.

I took him to school and showed him my room, the gym, the pool and the weight

room. We did a workout and had a skinny dip in the pool afterwards. I assured him we

were alone, but just to be on the safe side we stuck strictly to swimming. Back at home,

we took care of the arousal the swim had created.

Several times during our travels, we went under his bridge or came off the

highway by the exit ramp where we had first met. He looked out on these scenes. Once

I caught a tear running down his cheek.

"Hey, if you miss your old stomping grounds—?"

He punched me in the ribs, then scooted over, put his arms around my neck and

kissed me at the stoplight. That brought a surprised look from the driver next to us. I

shrugged my shoulders and mouthed, "Oh, well," as we pulled away.

Finally the day of reckoning arrived. We were both very quiet during our morning

workout, shower and breakfast.

As we looked at each other over our decaf, he asked, "Nervous?"

"Duh! Whadda ya think!" Over the top again. Shit. He smiled, though. "Just glad

this isn't leaded," I added, indicating the coffee, "and that I'm taking blood pressure

meds and Celexa."

Mike had called the night before. He and John were arriving at Metro at three but

we weren't to bother to pick them up, as they would rent a car. He said he'd talked to all

the kids and they would be at our house by seven-thirty. Peter and Angie were getting in

that afternoon. Meg was upset they'd chosen to stay with Angie's family rather than with

her, but Petey had assured her they would be spending ample time in both places. He

reminded her Angie's grandmother was not doing well and they needed to be there for

her as this might just be her last Christmas.

They had all queried the purpose of the family meeting, but Mike held his silence.

Meg, the perceptive one, said she bet it had something to do with my putting up the tree

for the first time in years.

When Mike and John arrived, they immediately swept us both into a hug. The

dogs joined in the fray. Annie had been Mike's dog before he moved to Boston, which

he felt was no place for a dog between the long hours he kept at work and John being

away so much as a flight attendant. Annie was overjoyed to see Mike and stayed glued

to his side all afternoon. It all seemed so natural. I began to relax—until John asked

what Andy did for a living. I hadn't told Mike anything about Dr. Andrew Barnes. Andy

handled it, though. He merely said he'd attended MSU, was a veterinarian, was

between jobs and hoped to find something here in Ann Arbor.

The next questions made me hold my breath.

"So, how did you meet? How long have you known each other?" Mike asked.

I wasn't prepared to say, Oh, I picked up this homeless guy, who has a drinking

problem, was living under a bridge and got mugged by two other bums a week ago.

Andy, however, was cool as could be. "Your dad found me at the bottom of the

exit ramp at Jackson road. I was in a hell of a mess and he helped me out."

"Car trouble?" John asked.

Andy smiled, ignoring the question. "I don't know if you believe in love at first

sight, but that's what it was, for me at least."

I blinked back tears.

"That's my dad," Mike said. "Mom would get so upset 'cause he and Meg were

always bringing home strays and wounded birds."

Mike, if you only knew how close you are to the truth. I smiled at Andy.

He winked.

As a distraction before The Meeting, we went out for dinner. Mike and John

opted to go to visit friends, so it was just Andy and me. I made sure Mike promised to be

back before the others arrived at the house. I ordered a glass of wine with dinner while

Andy chose a diet Coke. We both ate sparingly.

As arranged, John and Mike arrived at the house first and John took Andy out.

Mike and I got things ready.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"I've been better."

The door opened then and Peter walked in. There were greetings and hugs all

around.

"What's this all about?" Peter asked.

"Oh, you'll see," Mike said.

"Meg says you've put old Claudia up. Ah, there she is," Peter said, walking off

into the family room.

As I was bringing in the cookies Andy had baked using Patti's recipe, Meg and

Kathy arrived together. There was a babble of talk.

"Oh, Claudia is up. I'm so glad."

"Who baked Mom's cookies? Daddy, you? Oh, thank you, thank you." The

cookies had always been a favorite with the kids.

I looked helplessly at Mike. He smiled and directed the attention and

conversation to the tree, eggnog and catching up on the news.

Finally he looked at me and nodded.

I felt light headed. I couldn't do this. I would pretend I'd invited everyone over for

a pre-Christmas get-together for the Bennett side of the family. Then I would take Andy

and we'd run away to a deserted island in the South Pacific and fuck our brains out for

the rest of our lives.

"Dad?" Mike said.

"Uh, sit down everyone. I have something important to tell you."

They arranged themselves around the room. Mike sat next to me on the couch,

Peter sat on the chest in front of one of the bay windows, and Meg and Kathy sat

together on the love seat next to the tree, as they had for years when presents were

passed out on Christmas Day. The dogs lay at my feet.

I looked around the room. Would they be here after my announcement? Would

this be the last time ever, or at least for a long while, they'd be here in the house in

which they'd been born and grown up? I didn't want to do this. I tried to focus on the joy

I'd experienced this last week with Andy. It didn't seem joyful right now. I was torn

between what I'd always thought I wanted and what I now wanted more than anything.

I stared down at my hands, folded together between my knees. I knew what I

would do. I would tell them I wanted to say I was sorry for not having decorated since

their beloved mother had died. That was what I'd brought them here to say. Yes, that

was it. Then after they left, I would tell Andy I was sorry, tell him I would make sure he

got on his feet and send him on his way. That was the best thing to do.

Then I felt Mike's leg pressing into mine. It brought me out of my reverie. I looked

up. They were all looking at me expectantly. I cleared my throat.

"I…ah, I wanted you to know…" I looked to Mike.

He nodded.

I cleared my throat again. When I started to speak, my voice sounded strange. It

didn't sound like me, but this time I kept going. "I want you to know I'm very proud to be

your dad."

They smiled.

"I want you to know I loved your mother more than I will ever love anyone on this

earth. There can never be a replacement for her in my heart. The family we built

together is the most important thing in my life."

There were murmurs of, "Daddy we know," and, "Yeah, Dave." That last was

Peter with his tendency to call me by my name, something I'd always gotten a kick out

of.

"Well, having said that, I need to let you know that my heart still has room in it.

Room to find more love to share. I think I've found that love." I looked again at Mike.

Again he nodded.

"Hey, Mikey already knows! No fair," Peter chuckled.

Kathy looked at Mike with a probing eye.

"What's her name?" Meg asked, all smiles.

"Well, that's the thing. It's…it's not a wo—"

Peter looked at Mike and then back to me. "Fuck!" he said. His eyes narrowed.

"Shut up, Peter!" Meg remonstrated. "Let him finish. Go on, Daddy."

I had to look at Peter when I said it. Somehow it was important to me to let him

know I loved him and hated like hell to say what I was going to say.

"It's not her. It's him," I said. "You see I'm—"

"Gay!" Peter hissed. "You're a fuckin' queer!"

I looked up with tears stinging my eyes.

"Peter!" both Kathy and Meg yelled. Then to me, "Dad?"

The dogs were on their feet, looking from one person to another.

"Peter, that was uncalled for," Mike said.

"The hell it is! My brother being gay I can take, but my….father…shit... This is

crap. I…I…"

He started to pace. Everything seemed confused. I didn't know what to say. Mike

rose and tried to put his hand on Peter's shoulder. Peter threw it off.

"I'm outta here! I hope you and your fuckin' boyfriend and your fuckin' phony

family have a Merry Fuckin' Christmas." He stormed out of the room. The door slammed

behind him.

"I thought that went rather well, don't you?" I smiled, then lowered my head and

began to cry.

Kathy came to my side. Meg knelt before me. I covered my eyes with my hands.

"He'll get over it." Mike said. "Just give him time."

"Dad, it's okay," Kathy said. "It's okay."

"What's his name, Daddy, and when can we meet him?" Meg asked through her

own tears.

"Oh, Meg." I pulled her to me and buried my sobs in her golden hair. Kathy laid

her head on my shoulder and Mike patted my back. He mouthed "okay" and nodded

when I looked up.

* * * *

"Kathy, Meg—this is Andy. Andy Barnes. He's a veterinarian from MSU, but don't

hold that against him." Mike made the introductions. I was still in a state of shock.

The rest of the evening went well. At least it appeared to. They all talked—John,

Mike, Andy, Meg and Kathy. They raved over the cookies Andy had made from their

mother's recipes. They regaled him with stories of their childhood and me. I couldn't

have hoped for more. Well, yes, I could—Peter. What was this doing to him?

The evening came to a close with Meg giving her instructions for Christmas.

Christmas Eve Mass at St. Thomas we would be all together, with the rest of Christmas

Eve at their respective in-laws for Meg, Kathy, and Peter. Then Christmas Day here, "if

we wanted that?" We would meet in front of the church at four—"Was that okay?" And

so on with who would bring what, where, and when.

After the girls left, John said, "Okay, so what happened? I take it Pete didn't

handle it too well?"

Mike told the story while I sat, feeling like a wrung-out dishrag. Andy came to sit

next to me. He seemed unsure as to what to do. I reached over to him and he leaned

against me.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No," Mike said. "Two out of three ain't all that bad."

They all laughed. I smiled.

"Let's go to bed." I was suddenly very tired.

We bade each other good night and went to our rooms. I had a momentary

feeling of panic when Mike walked past our bedroom as I was closing the door. He

smiled and gave me the thumbs up. I blushed and returned the gesture.

That night Andy held me. He stroked my head. He told me he loved me. He flew

to the top of the church where he broke into song, but he was singing on key. That's

when I knew I had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Andy's shower songs were never on

key.

* * * *

Peter and his family didn't sit with the rest of us at Mass on Christmas Eve. Meg

gave him a piece of her mind for that. On Christmas Day he, Angie and the kids arrived

late and left early. Angie was cordial to Andy, even friendly, but Peter didn't even look at

him. He avoided me except to give me a perfunctory hug and wish me a Merry

Christmas.

The rest of the family made up for it. Scott and Sean, the sons-in-law, kidded

Andy about being their new stepmother and raved about his cooking (Andy and John

had done the turkey with all the trimmings). The grandkids, all three of Kathy's, Peter's

two boys and Meg's baby, were in heaven with their uncles, Mike and John, and new

Grampa Andy. Meg and Kathy had gotten him presents and showed an interest in his

conversation, although he carefully avoided any reference to his recent past.

Christmas week flew by. The kids, except for Peter, dropped in at the house and

invited us to their homes for continued celebrations. Mike and John flew out the day

before New Year's Eve to attend the galas on The Cape. Angie called to say they were

leaving and to thank us for the presents. We didn't hear from Peter.

We spent New Year's Eve at home alone. I needed the peace and quiet. It had

been an exhausting couple of weeks. Just two weeks before, a fate inspired moment

had changed my life forever. Here I was in the home I had shared with Patti for twenty-

five of our thirty-one years together, sitting on the floor in front of a tree called Claudia

with my arms around a man I hoped to love for the rest of my life. My children had

responded to this dramatic turn of events better than I could have hoped, with one

painful exception.

Andy pressed against me. He started to stroke my chest and beg for kisses. I felt

myself responding to his touch.

"We better wait," I said with a voice that indicated I didn't really want to.

"Why? I want to be deep inside you, filing you with myself right as the New Year

begins."

"Another Bennett tradition. Precisely at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Day

they all call home to wish me Happy New Year. It wouldn't be cool to moan out your

name just as they were calling, even though they're taking this pretty well."

He chuckled. "I guess not. Okay, I'll wait until the coast is clear."

We watched the ball drop. Dick Clark wished us a Happy New Year. We kissed

and cried. The phone rang.

Meg was first. "Happy New Year, Daddy. I love you."

"Happy New Year, Moo. I love you, too."

"Let me talk to Andy?"

I handed the phone to him. He said Happy New Year. He knitted his brows in

concentration. He laughed and smiled at me. He said thank you and handed the phone

back to me.

"See you tomorrow," Meg said. We were going over to Meg's for dinner, and to

watch Michigan play in the Rose Bowl. "Bye."

"What were you laughing at?" I asked.

"Meg said Sean has set up a second TV so we can watch MSU play its bowl

game, since the two overlap."

"Next fall should be interesting," I quipped, thinking ahead to the UM vs. MSU

rivalry game.

The phone rang again.

"Hey, it's me." It was Kathy.

We wished her the best in the coming year. She, too, asked to talk with Andy. My

heart swelled.

No sooner had we hung up when the phone rang again. Caller ID indicated Mike

and John. I had Andy answer. They talked for a long time. Finally he gave me the

phone. "Hi, guys."

They were both on the phone. I could hear a party in the background. When I told

Mike I hadn't heard from Peter yet, he said not to worry if Peter didn't call, and to give

him time. I wished him and John a Happy New Year and said goodbye.

Andy and I sat in silence. New Year's Rockin' Eve played on the TV. The kids

had called. They were accepting this miraculous event, or at least they were making an

effort to make it seem so for my sake. All was good with the world—almost. I missed my

Petey.

"Remember Mike said to give him time," Andy reminded me, as if reading my

thoughts.

"He's not going to call, is he?" I sighed.

"I don't think so. Give it a little more time."

After half an hour the phone was still silent.

"You could call him," Andy suggested.

I shook my head. Peter needed his space for now. I would let him take his time

and come to me. "No, not just yet." Changing the subject, I said, "Now, what about that

new New Year's tradition you were talking about starting?"

"I was hoping you would still be up for it."

"I'm not up up yet but I'm sure you can fix that."

We came together. A new New Year's tradition was born. That night with our

arms tightly around each other, our lips pressed together and our bodies connected in

the deepest way two men can connect, we welcomed the New Year and the future.

Chapter Three: Bumps In The Road

Christmas vacation—oops—Holiday break was over. Andy was getting used to

life at home. Both housework and general upkeep were at an all-time post-Patti high.

Andy's culinary skills were making it hard to keep my aging body in somewhat decent

shape and the house had not been so well tended in years. Andy seemed happy

enough but I sensed something wasn't quite right. When I asked him about it, though,

he said I was imagining things. I wasn't so sure.

Another concern was a note I found in my mailbox from the assistant principal

when I got back to school. He asked to see me in his office during my prep time. Since

my prep was seventh hour, the last hour of the day, I fretted over what it was about

most of the day. The kids were all pretty excited upon return from the break, which

diverted some of my attention away from the upcoming meeting.

"Weight Training Club today?" Brad, one of the eighth graders, asked. I met with

a group of kids every Tuesday and Thursday for workouts. I wanted to make sure

student athletes got started on the right foot with regard to weight training. So many

programs didn't take into consideration that their joints, tendons and ligaments were still

in the developmental stages and therefore subject to injury if weight training techniques

weren't learned properly.

"That's right, it's Tuesday," I responded. "I forgot—since we started school today,

I thought it was Monday. No, we'll start this Thursday. I'll put an announcement in the

bulletin in the morning."

"Okay, see you in class tomorrow."

When I got to the assistant principal's office, the door was open. I knocked and

went in.

"Hi, Dave. Sit down."

After we talked a little about the holidays, Mr. Douglas said, "I need to talk to you

about something."

"Yes?"

"You were in over the holidays. You had someone with you and you were seen

swimming in the pool, naked."

"And the problem is?"

"The problem is the person who saw you feels you weren't behaving properly."

"What? All we were doing was swimming laps after a workout. I've done it

hundreds of times. All the coaches do." I felt a bit panicky.

"Well, that's true, but this person you were with is not a school employee and

therefore not covered by school insurance."

"What about this implication of improper behavior?" I queried, still feeling uneasy

and trying to remember if Andy and I had done anything, anything at all that would have

betrayed our relationship.

"Just that you were swimming naked. It happened to be a female custodian, and

she was embarrassed."

"Oh, okay. We've all done that here before, but if it's a problem—"

"Next time wear a suit."

"I will."

I left the office feeling relieved but still uneasy. I realized having Andy in my life

was not always going to be easy to explain. How much would I need to explain, though?

This was Ann Arbor, Michigan. It was a fairly open-minded town.

I would have to think about this.

* * * *

As January moved into February, life in the Bennett–Barnes household, as the

label on the mailbox now read, was falling into a comfortable pattern. I worked, Andy

took care of things at home and we made love, often and wonderfully. I still hadn't had

my turn, but I was patient and more than satisfied for the first time in my life, actually.

Andy had been made an official volunteer at the school so he could help me with

Weight Training Club and use the facilities as he wished. I was a little tense because

they did a fingerprint and background check. Since I wasn't completely up to date on his

background, I hoped there wouldn't be surprises for me there, but he passed without a

problem.

The kids at school were getting to know Dr. Barnes and they liked him. Don

Reinder, the eighth grade science teacher, had him as a guest lecturer when they

studied zoology and that led to guest shots in the other science classes as well. Andy

also was invited to participate in Career Day at both the middle school and the high

school.

Things were going well on the family front, too. We attended school sporting

events regularly and had tickets to U of M basketball games. We spent a good deal of

time with the local family members. Andy's acceptance by the girls and their spouses

was obvious, and the grandkids were totally taken by their new grampa. He often had to

be protected from them or they would completely monopolize his time. Isaac, the oldest

of Kathy's boys, did ask how a grampa could be so young and Kathy's daughter, Clara,

wondered why she now had three grampas. These questions gave the adults a

moment’s pause, but as is often the case with children's inquiries, a few simple answers

proved sufficient to satisfy their curiosity.

Mike and John called regularly, talking as much to Andy as to me. They

encouraged us to consider a trip to Boston to stay with them and learn how to be gay

men. I laughed. We evidently didn't appreciate show tunes or fashion as much as we

should. I teased them back—what about their season tickets for the Celtics and the

Bruins? Basketball and hockey? Whatever happened to good old figure skating?

Meg, as Mike had predicted, needed to process things more than had been

apparent at first. She and I spent time together talking about how I could love her

mother and at the same time be attracted to men. Although I didn't fully understand it

myself, I explained it as best I could. Meg was concerned that I hadn't been faithful to

her mother during our marriage and I lied, hoping in my heart it wasn't wrong of me. She

also spent time alone with Andy. I knew she would be okay with this.

I hadn't heard from Peter since the holidays. His customary weekly calls had

ceased. He hadn't even called on my birthday. A week after my birthday, a card and a

gift arrived. The card was signed by Angie and wasn't the sarcastic, funny greeting my

boy usually sent. The gift, too, was a very nice sweater, but not something with the

special meaning that typified my relationship with Petey.

Andy had given me a card and tickets to a Pistons game. He confessed he had

scrounged the money out of the household shopping budget and was embarrassed.

The embarrassment didn't linger that night when he sent me to the moon with one of the

most powerful love-making sessions I had ever participated in. He didn't allow me to

touch him at all but made me lie on my back and endure the most wonderful oral and

manual ministrations imaginable. It was a double climax night, one of my few. He had

learned his lessons well. How I loved him. Even though I still hadn't had my turn, life

was good. If only Peter would come around...I could wait, though. Things were going

well.

As they say, though, all good things must come to an end—or at least hit some

bumps in the road.

* * * *

As spring approached, Andy became restless. He still insisted all was going well

and he was happy, but he was like a horse who had been in his stall all winter and

needed to get out and run.

Finally I sat him down. "Tell me."

In his characteristic manner, he took a long time to respond before he said

simply, "I need to work."

I smiled, encouraging him to continue.

"I'm a veterinarian, a good one. I need to be in active practice. I called Lansing.

My license has lapsed. In order to get it back, I need to take a couple of courses in

current treatment practices."

"Well, what's the problem? Go for it."

"The classes are in Lansing, so I would need transportation. If I don't have that I

would have to get a room there."

"No way! I'm not losing—" I was over-the-top again.

"Hang on there, stud. Let me finish." He smiled but not in a way that showed real

amusement. Cocking his head to the side, he hunched his shoulders and held his open

hands toward me. "And I have no money." He dropped his eyes.

I sat there for a minute, calculating in my head. Then I said, "I have money."

"No, I couldn't ask you to do that."

I moved to sit closer to him and took his hands in mine. "For richer or poorer, in

good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part. And mi casa es su

casa for good measure. We haven't said those words to each other, but that's what this

all means to me. Of course you can ask me to do this."

"I don't deserve you."

"You got it backwards, I don't deserve you. Now let's figure this out."

We got Andy a reliable, used F150. He enrolled in the spring quarter and would

have to take some summer classes, too. We adjusted the home schedule so we could

spend as much time together as possible. We considered that bump in the road

handled.

Then in May we hit a bigger one—I got another note in my mailbox. This time it

was from the superintendent of schools. He wanted to meet with me the following

Monday. I was to get a sub for the morning.

"What could he want?" I said out loud Sunday night.

"Maybe he wants to offer you the chairmanship of the English department," Andy

suggested, looking up from Latest Advancements in Equine Pharmacology.

"Wow, that's definitely not what I want."

"Why not?" He wrinkled his brow, no doubt trying to get the gist of what he had

gone back to reading.

"Because it would take time away from my favorite pastime."

"And what's that?" he asked innocently without looking up.

I walked over to him. Dressed only in flannel lounging pants, I straddled his lap,

pulling his tee-shirt off overhead as I did. I went straight for the brass ring, his nipples. I

knew once there I could demand anything of him. I was right.

"Not fair," he moaned.

I had him. I could feel his blossoming hardness pressing against my buttocks.

We kissed deeper and deeper, searching the recesses of each other's mouths as if

looking for hidden treasure. I raised up and he lowered my loungers so I could step out

of them. I unzipped his jeans and, with some fumbling, released the prize for which I

was searching. We were both flowing with ample amounts of pre-cum, which I used to

lubricate our penises, hoping it would be enough; I didn't want to break the mood by

running up to the bedroom for lube. He sat with his hands on my hips, breathing deeply

and shuddering each time he exhaled. I reached back and lined him up with his target.

I looked into his steel blue eyes and said, "I love you," as I slid, with only mild

discomfort, onto his swollen shaft.

I smothered his gasp with a kiss. We began our slow, sensuous dance. My

mouth never left his as the rhythm and pace accelerated. My engorgement pressed into

his abdomen, thrusting through the auburn curls and stabbing his navel. I came, filling

his belly button, my cum flowing down his stomach and onto the chair. He scooped

some of it up and fed it to us. Stiffening, he pulled me close with such force the breath

was pushed out of me. He spasmed once, twice, three, four times. Then he relaxed

against my chest. I took his head in my hands and kissed it. Could this get any better?

Maybe—but it could also get worse.

* * * *

Monday morning I arrived at the central administration building for my meeting

with the superintendent. Mr. Markos was a handsome man of Greek descent. I'd often

fantasized about what he would look like under his suit, with his barrel chest and

wonderfully shaped gluteus maximus.

He was in the reception area when I arrived, talking with his secretary.

"Mr. Bennett. Thank you for coming. Please come in."

He closed the door behind him and indicated I should sit down. I chose a chair in

front of his desk and he took the one next to it, rather than retreating behind the barrier

the large mahogany piece of furniture would have created.

He got right to the point. "How long have you been teaching?"

"I've been with the district for twenty-two years. Before that I was an instructor at

the University for nine."

"Then you're eligible for retirement. Have you thought about it?"

Where was this going?

"Well, yes, of course I have. But I love my job and thought I would stick it out for

another few years until I'm nearer social security age."

"Mr. Bennett." He looked down. Something told me he was getting ready to say

something he wasn't comfortable with. "Mr. Bennett, I would like to encourage you to

consider it at the end of this year."

"But," I said, caught completely off guard, "it takes six months to process

retirement papers. I wouldn't begin receiving benefits until—" I calculated in my head.

"Uh, December. I have financial obligations. And besides, I don't want to retire just yet."

"Let me put it this way, Mr. Bennett. I strongly encourage you to retire at the end

of this year."

He suddenly didn't look so attractive to me. "Mr. Markos, are you telling me to

retire?"

"Technically I can't do that. Your contract and the fact that you have tenure

prohibit me from taking that action. Let me just say that it would be in your best interest

to make this decision now."

"I'm afraid that without some reason for your…encouragement, I don't think it's a

direction I care to take at this time."

He drew a deep breath and moved his chair closer to me.

"David." He used my first name, looking me in the eye with sympathy and

compassion. "David, I didn't want to have to go here." He shook his head, then looked

back at me. "It has been noted that you have, uh, a friend."

"I have many friends," I responded, not understanding his gist.

"I mean Dr. Barnes."

"Oh."

We were silent for a few minutes. Then I said, "I don't recall there being any law

against having a 'friend' such as Dr. Barnes, as long as there's no outward faulting of

lewd behavior. This applies to all teachers, no matter what their sexual persuasion."

"You're right, of course. However, the school board has two members who are,

let us say, on the extreme far right. They have been informed of your relationship with

Dr. Barnes and that you have been observed swimming in the pool at the middle school

without swimming trunks—"

"But we were just swimming!"

He ignored me. "And they have discovered a state law that could be interpreted

as your breaking a morals clause. If they invoke that clause, you would forfeit your

pension. The law is antiquated but it's still on the books and could be used against you."

"I've been a loyal employee, and Andy has been nominated as Volunteer of the

Year."

"Yes, I've read your file. Your evaluations have consistently read, 'performs

above expectations,' and twice you've been District Teacher of the Year, but this seems

to make no difference to these particular bigo— uh, board members."

"Before I make any decision, I will need to consult with the union and with a

lawyer."

"As you wish. I just was trying to avoid any unpleasantness on your part and, of

course, the school district's."

"Of course, the school district," I said with a note of disdain in my voice.

When I got home, Andy was in the kitchen. Turning, he came to me and gave me

a hug and a kiss. "You look stressed to the maximum."

"Yes!"

I told him the story of my day—my meeting with Mr. Markos, my return to school,

contacting the union, contacting a lawyer for the state educational association.

"What's the bottom line?" Support and concern showed in his voice and on his

face.

"The lawyer says it's a crock of crap and it'll never fly. But…"

"But?"

"But there's a chance that if the wrong judge gets hold of the case, the fuckin'

school board bigots will get their way."

"David, I'm so sorry. It's my fault you're in this situation."

I put my arms around him. "For better or worse, remember? But I sure could use

a drink."

He looked at me.

I chuckled. "How about a chamomile tea?"

* * * *

Summer came and with it summer vacation. This was one of the benefits of

teaching I'd enjoyed so much over the years, especially when the kids were at home. It

gave me time to be with them in ways fathers in other professions missed. This summer

was not going to be that enjoyable, however. I hadn't retired. The school board had

decided to take legal action against me. The summer would be spent preparing for the

trial, which would take place at the end of July. I had informed the kids of my situation.

For the most part, their response was heartwarming and appreciated. Meg and Kathy

were sympathetic and encouraging. Mike and John were going to get some advice from

their local gay activists group. Peter wouldn't take my call, though, so I left the message

with Angie. At my request news of the trial was not made public at school. As far as

anyone there knew, the end of the year came in the normal way.

Aside from preparing for the court date, the summer activities in the Bennett-

Barnes household continued as expected, although under a cloud of tension-filled

anticipation. Andy was still taking classes at MSU to prepare for the exam to reinstate

his veterinarian license. We also spent some time at the barn where Meg had kept her

horses. Ben, the owner, was happy to meet Andy and they seemed to hit it off really

well. Andy, in turn, was impressed with the operation and the quality of the stock.

"Ben's really a nice guy," Andy commented as we drove off. "And good looking,

too."

"Hey!"

Andy chuckled and winked.

As the summer went on, we attended horse shows and had cookouts with the

kids. We went swimming and hiking at the local Metro Parks. We made love.

But never far from our thoughts were the two sources of stress—my trial and

Andy's exams. The tension seemed to grow as those events approached.

The trial was first. Mike and John had arranged to be here. Bob Johnson, the

lawyer they brought to sit second chair with the state education association councilor,

was an expert on gay rights. They stayed with us and we went over the procedures

again and again.

On the appointed day we arrived at the county building. Meg, Kathy and their

spouses met us on the steps outside. It was good to have them there. We entered the

building, went through the security checks, and were directed to the assigned

courtroom.

When we rounded the corner to the hallway, I was in for a shock. Gathered there

was almost the entire staff of the middle school as well as several dozen students and

their parents. I was overwhelmed. They cheered as I came around the corner and high-

fived us as we entered the courtroom.

"Go get 'em, Mr. B!"

"Give 'em hell!"

I held it together and stifled the emotions I was afraid would overwhelm me. As

many of the crowd as would fit followed us into the courtroom. The school district's

attorney and the president of the school board were already seated beyond the bar.

Other members of the board were in their seats in the gallery. The look of shock on their

faces at seeing me enter with my entourage would have been comical if not for the

seriousness of the situation.

The judge entered and the trial began. My lawyer presented character witness

after character witness. All of them spoke of me in such glowing terms I was

embarrassed. In the cross examinations no one was able to testify to a single instance

of inappropriate behavior on my part in any way, shape or form.

Then the board presented its case. They reread the allegations against me and

presented just one witness, the lady custodian who had seen Andy and me swimming in

the nude during the holiday break.

"Tell us what you saw, Mrs. Carter."

"I saw Mr. Bennett and that man," she pointed to Andy, who was seated behind

me, "swimming in the pool."

"And how were they dressed?"

"They weren't."

"You mean they were naked?"

"Yes."

"Please tell us what they were doing."

"I told you, they were swimming."

Giggles emanated from the gallery.

"What else were they doing?"

"Nothing, just swimming."

"I see." The attorney walked forward and leaned on the witness stand. "And what

evidence was there that they were sexually aroused?"

"I…don't know what you mean. I don't understand?"

"I'll put it another way. Did either Mr. Bennett or his partner have an erection?"

"Objection!"

Oh my God! I put one hand on my forehead and felt the color rising in my

cheeks. Here I was in front of my family, colleagues and students, and we were

discussing my erection!

My attorney was on his feet. "Your Honor, this line of questioning is improper."

"I'll allow it if counsel will rephrase his question," the judge responded.

"Thank you, Your Honor. Did Mr. Bennett," he paused and looked over at me,

"have an erection."

I groaned inwardly and searched my memory to see if I'd had a hard-on.

"Objection!" My attorney was on his feet again. "Whether or not a man has an

erection does not indicate whether or not he will engage in an immoral act in a public

place."

"Your Honor," rejoined opposing counsel, "the presence of an erection would

indicate intent."

"Objection overruled. The witness will answer the question."

Mrs. Carter turned crimson and looked down at her lap. "No," she said.

"No? Mrs. Carter?"

"No. I did not see Mr. Bennett's…uh…erection."

"Mrs. Carter, are you sure? Think back, try to remember."

"Mr. Franklin," the judge said leaning forward, "I think she has made it clear that

she did not witness Mr. Bennett with an erection."

Oh, sweet Jesus! I couldn't take much more discussion of my penis and me.

"Yes, Your Honor. No further questions."

My attorney waived our right to cross-examine.

"We rest our case, Your Honor," said the attorney for the board.

"That's your whole case?" The judge took off his glasses and raised his

eyebrows.

"Yes, Your Honor."

"I see."

The judge leaned back. He seemed to be looking over some papers on his desk.

Then he sat up and looked at the board president and board members in the gallery. He

folded his hands and shook his head.

"You have wasted my time, the time of this court, and caused undue suffering to

many people by bringing these frivolous charges against Mr. Bennett. If I were in his

shoes I would be considering a suit for defamation of character and public humiliation

against the school board and school district. I find in favor of Mr. Bennett. Case

dismissed."

At the rap of the gavel, the courtroom burst into cheers and applause. Mike,

John, my attorney and Bob, the gay activist lawyer, hugged me. I looked at Andy. He

smiled at me. By mutual, unspoken agreement we decided a wave and a wink would

suffice for now. We would celebrate our victory later and definitely in private.

* * * *

After a celebratory family cookout at Kathy's, things settled down. Mike, John and

their friend returned to Boston. Andy spent long hours studying for his reinstatement

exam. I spent an equal number of long hours distracting him as best I could. Finally on

the day before the exam, I decided to take a more direct approach.

"Andy," I walked over and took the book out of his hand. He looked up at me and

started to protest. I stuffed my tongue in his mouth.

When we came up for air he protested. "The exam is tomorrow and—"

"And you've done all you can. As a teacher, I know you need time before a big

test to relax and let the knowledge settle. So follow me."

We walked up the stairs to our room. I had lit several candles and there was

music playing. I undressed him and sat him on the bed, then undressed myself and

crawled behind him, leaning against a pile of pillows stacked in front of the headboard.

Spreading my legs, I pulled him back against me and put my arms around his chest. He

leaned his head back on my shoulder.

"You just relax and let the master take that tension away," I murmured into his

ear.

He sighed deeply. "Okay."

As he leaned against me I massaged his chest, making sure I gave special

attention to those beautiful, sensitive nipples. I kissed his shoulder, neck and ears. I

licked the back of his neck. His breathing got deeper. I reached down with my left hand

and cupped his balls. I continued my ministrations to his chest, abdomen and nipples

with my right hand. Fingers wrapped around his penis I pulled the foreskin all the way

back and began a slow, rhythmic massage. Using the copious flow of pre-cum to

lubricate his shaft, I continued my maddeningly slow stimulation. He rolled his head

back and forth on my shoulder and groaned.

"Please," he moaned, "David, please!"

He reached for himself, but I pushed his hand away.

"Uh-uh! No way, you're mine right now."

He pressed back against my stomach, my own turgid dick trapped between us.

His legs flexed and stretched, stimulating me as much as I was stimulating him. My

breathing became labored and irregular. Still I kept the pace as slow as I could, fighting

my urge to bring this torture to completion.

Twice I brought him to the brink, only to cease stroking him. He was almost

crying by this time. His whimpers were music to my ears. Finally I set him free, but

continued with the same firm, slow strokes. He arched against me.

"David, oh shit, damn, David!"

Three geysers of sperm shot from him. The first hit us both in the face, the

second his chest, the third landed on his navel. These were followed by several more

ejaculations that oozed out and coated my hand. As these last issuances were

completed, my own pent-up volcano erupted, coating his back and my stomach. I

closed my eyes, lost in the euphoria that climax brings.

We lay with my arms folded across his chest and his over mine, holding my

hands. His head snuggled against my neck and in this position we fell asleep.

At some point during the night I was awakened by a voice saying, "Principles of

chiropractic humpf, dingle, dit, horses."

I chuckled and drifted back to sleep.

Some time later, Jake jumped on the bed to announce he was overdue for his

turn outside. Jarred awake, we sat up and looked at the clock.

"Holy shit!"

We had overslept. We were pretty well stuck together from the previous night's

activities, but were off like a flash nonetheless. Andy headed for the shower and I

headed downstairs. I let the dogs out and fed them when they came in. Then I made

breakfast consisting of Cheerios, o. j. and bananas; the kitchen and I were still not on

speaking terms. I was brewing the decaf when Andy ran into the kitchen. He wolfed

down his breakfast, kissed me in passing and ran out the door.

"You drive safe. Good luck!" I yelled after him as he headed out to the garage.

Annie barked.

After he left, I realized he hadn't taken his cell. Damn. Now I'd have to wait until

he got home to hear how he did on the exam.

I cleaned up the kitchen before getting in the shower. I didn't really want to wash

him off of me, but I did. As I did so, I started thinking of the previous night and did a

mental instant replay. This culminated in my spraying the shower stall with another

serving of my seed.

* * * *

I went to the pool for a swim. I walked the dogs. I went out to Subway for dinner. I

paced the floor. I checked my watch every five minutes or less. Finally at half past

seven, I heard his truck pull into the drive.

I ran out the front door. "Well?"

He looked exhausted. "Won't know for two weeks. But I think I did well."

When we went inside, I asked him about the exam and he launched into a blow-

by-blow detail of every question.

"I should have studied those articles on Equine Protozoan Myelitis more

carefully. There was a question about newly discovered treatments. I may have blown

that one. But I know I nailed the one about Hyperkalemic Periodic Paralysis." He went

on and on, sometimes pacing the floor, sometimes sitting and intently staring at the wall.

I was glad I was somewhat knowledgeable about these subjects from my years

with Meg and the horses. Finally he ran out of steam and headed for the shower and

bed. That night, curled in each other's arms, we affirmed our love for one another and

decided this summer had been one to remember.

* * * *

Fall arrived. With it came the start of school. I was usually somewhat reluctant to

go back, but after the trial and the threat of losing all of this, I was happy to return to the

students and books. Andy still hadn't heard about his exams. After a week and a half he

started sitting on the front stoop waiting for the mail carrier. After two and a half weeks

he began walking down the street to meet the mail carrier. After a month he called MSU

to see what was going on. He got the run around and decided he had flunked. I tried to

encourage him, but he was sure he hadn't cut it. He was so upset with MSU he wore U

of M's maize and blue on the day of the rivalry game.

Fall also brought Peter's and Patti's birthdays. To celebrate the latter, the family

went to the cemetery to place mums, her favorite fall flower, on her grave. At first Andy

said he didn't belong in the celebration. But Meg, bless her, insisted her mother was

happy her dad had found love and would be glad of Andy being there. If a gay man can

find a better way to be shown the love of his family, I don't know what it would be.

Peter, on the other hand... I called on his birthday. Angie said, "Just a minute,"

but then returned to say Peter was out. When the girls heard this, both Kathy and Meg

called him. They encouraged me to try again. I did, twice. He was "out" both times. It

was fall, which meant U of M football. I'd had season tickets since I graduated from the

university, and after all those years I'd acquired premium seats. Peter usually came for

almost every game. I was confident the lure of the Maize and Blue would bring him

home eventually.

Near the end of October, I was in the middle of teaching the basics of

diagramming a sentence when the door burst open. It was Andy, visitors tag and all.

The kids yelled, "Dr. B, Dr. B.!"

Before I could react, he replied, "Ubetchim! Dr. Andrew Barnes at your service."

He came over, handed me the letter he'd been waving and hugged me. The letter

was from the State of Michigan:

Dear Dr. Barnes:

This is to inform you that you have passed your
reinstatement exam with a score of 96%.

Your license to practice veterinary medicine in the State of
Michigan has been reissued. It is effective as of today. You
will be receiving a copy of your license in two weeks.

Sincerely,
Robert Ellis
Department of Licensure and Certification

At the bottom were listed the states that had a reciprocal licensing agreement with

Michigan.

I smiled and read the letter to the class. Dr. Barnes was the hero of the day.

The hero got his reward that night.

Andy started applying for veterinarian positions in the area. He sent out letters.

He made personal visits to the practices. He searched on the Internet. One of the

drawbacks of being located near one of the best vet schools in the country is that the

glut of graduates coming out each year made the pickings pretty slim. The only opening

Andy could find was in Escanaba, about a eight hour drive from Ann Arbor. He began to

get discouraged.

One night I came home to find him sitting in the dark. I turned on the light. He

was on the couch. In front of him on the coffee table was a bottle of Scotch. My heart

stopped. As I walked further into the room, he looked up. A glance at the bottle showed

me it hadn't been opened. Sighing inwardly, I sat down next to him, locked my arms

behind my head and leaned back. He looked at me with tears in his eyes.

"Help me?"

I took him into my embrace. It was almost like holding one of my children when

they needed comfort and strength. He began to sob quietly.

"I almost did it. I almost did! I've been fighting this all summer. Today I found out

one of the reasons I'm getting rejection letters is because Julie and her family are still

carrying on their campaign against me. They've contacted every practice I've applied to.

It broke my resistance. If you hadn't come home… Oh, David. Help me!"

"Ubetchim, Little Beaver. Red Ryder is here. We'll get you the help you need."

The next morning I stayed home from school. I called the local AA chapter. They

put me in touch with a chapter in Royal Oak that served mostly gays. I called them and

they encouraged me to have Andy himself get in touch with them. It wasn't easy for him,

but he did it. Two days later I came in and he met me at the door.

"I made that call. I'm going to my first meeting tonight. Will you come with me?"

"Of course, if it's the right thing to do."

"I asked them. They said it was okay if I really needed the support. Will you?"

"Yes, c'mere." I put my arms around him. It was going to be okay.

We went to the meeting. I had never been to one before, but I knew what the

basic format was. When it was Andy's turn to be introduced he stood up, looked around

the room, looked at me, then squared his shoulders and said, "My name is Andy, and I

am an alcoholic."

I was as proud of him at that moment as I ever was of any of my kids at any time

in their lives.

* * * *

Fall kept on its way. We attended football games at the university, high school

and middle school. We went to the girls' basketball games. Andy guested again in many

of the science classes and assisted the weight-training club, but I could tell he was

discouraged. At least he was doing well at AA, and I was fairly confident he would be

okay in that area.

"It's not only that I want to practice being a vet again," he said one night as we

sat in the stands at the Pioneer High School game against their cross-town rivals, the

Huron River Rats. "But it isn't fair for you to be footing all the bills. You've paid for

everything."

"Hey, you do your share. You take care of the house and give the dogs what they

need. You volunteer at school."

"I'm not some goddamn housewife!" he said intensely but softly.

Oh shit, you dumb fuck, I thought. You and your big mouth have done it again.

Speaking on top of one another, we said, "I'm sorry, please forgive me," and

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

"It's just that I need to work." Andy sighed.

"I know you're frustrated."

We watched the rest of the game in silence.

That Sunday was the Halloween party at the farm. There was a best costume

contest with both horses and riders in costume, hayrides and more food than the whole

U of M football team could have handled. There were games on horseback—musical

pumpkins, played like musical chairs to the tune of Monster Mash; egg and spoon,

where the rider must balance an egg on a spoon while riding around the arena at

various gaits; and ride-a-buck, in which riders clamp a dollar between their leg and the

saddle. The rider that has the last buck still in place wins all the rest. Andy and I

borrowed horses and played the games. I won the egg and spoon, mainly thanks to the

smooth, steady old horse they gave me to ride. Andy won the ride-a-buck and came

away with eighteen dollars in his pocket.

The next activity was the golden horseshoe hunt. Maps were given out showing

the routes of the trails around the barn. A golden horseshoe was hidden somewhere

along one of the trails. Four teams went out in search of the shoe. Andy and I were

teamed with two young ladies who were hell-bent to find that shoe. We flew along the

trails. I didn't think old Buttercup had it in her, but she kept up with the rest. We didn't

win but we sure had a good ride. I felt good after not riding for so long, though I knew I

would be sore later for sure.

On the way back to the barn, Ben joined us. As we walked along, he said to

Andy, "Dave never mentioned you could ride like that."

"I never knew," I said.” You never told me, Andy."

Andy blushed. "Well, shucks," he said, feigning a Mayberry RFD accent.

"Actually, I was a barrel racer at MSU for the rodeo equestrian team."

We continued walking. Then Ben said, "I can't pay much, Andy, but I know you're

having a hard time finding a vet job. So if you want a job here, you can sure have it. You

could vet the horses, which would save us and the borders a hell of a lot of money. You

could exercise horses, too, help with the stalls and feeding and give me some

professional advice on shoeing for those with foot and leg problems. You could even

live in the apartment with Eric, if you wanted." Eric was the college student who now fed

the horses and cleaned stalls in exchange for his living quarters. He was quite a hottie.

Andy smiled. "That's a great offer, Ben. The job, I mean. I have a good living

situation right now." As he gave me a knowing look, I wiped off my face the panicked

expression that had appeared when it was suggested he and Eric might live together.

"Let me think it over, but I'm pretty sure I'd like to take you up on that."

We finished off the day with a hayride and a bonfire. The latter came complete

with ghost stories and the arrival, on cue, of Eric dressed as the mummy. Another of the

kids accompanied him from the barn dressed as a werewolf, amid screams and shrieks

of fear from the crowd around the fire.

That night, while lying naked on the bed and applying liniment to each others'

backsides, Andy asked, "Whaddya think?"

"About your sexy butt?" I had thought a lot about his sexy butt, often wondering

when it was going to be my turn.

"I know what you think about that," he chuckled. "I meant Ben's offer."

"I think it's great—as long as you don't accept the offer to shack up with Eric." I

made an angry growl in my throat.

"You're the only guy I'm going to be shacking up with, Mr. Red Ryder."

"Ubetchim, Little Beaver."

That night we did shack up, being extremely careful of some pretty tender body

parts.

* * * *

So Andy had a job. His demeanor improved so dramatically it was infectious. The

whole atmosphere of the house lightened. He was animated and talkative, enthusiastic

about everything. He still found time to volunteer at school. Our lovemaking even

became better than ever, if that were possible.

As he was making dinner one night in the middle of November, Andy said,

"There's a big horse show in the Chicago area."

"Uh huh." I continued reading an article about the Wolverines and their chances

of going to the Rose Bowl again.

"Ben needs to take all three rigs to get all the horses there."

"Hmm," I grunted.

"He and Eric will each drive one. He wanted to know if I would drive the third and

be the vet for the barn at the show. Can I go?"

I stopped reading. "Say that again."

He repeated what he'd said.

I walked over to him, put my arm around the back of his head and pulled his

forehead to mine. "You're a big boy now, you don't need daddy's permission to go off by

yourself."

He looked hurt.

"What?" I was puzzled. "Did you want me to say no?"

"No, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay with it. I did it out of respect

for you and your feelings."

What had I done to deserve this man?

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. Let me start over. Thanks for checking with me,

Andy. Of course, I want you to go. It'll be good for you."

This time he pulled my head to his. "Thanks, Dad." He winked.

As he carried a pot of his famous chili to the table he said, "Oh, did I tell you I'd

be staying with Eric?"

I swatted him on the butt, hard!

* * * *

The trip to Chicago was wonderful for Andy. He was feeling more and more a

contributor. He'd had a great time and was even able to make some contacts that might

prove helpful to him in the future. He talked and talked about every experience until I

shut him up with a sloppy kiss and reminded him it had been a week since we had been

together. He took care of that.

Two Sundays before Thanksgiving, the phone rang—the caller ID indicated

Peter's number in Chicago. I looked at it so long it almost went to voicemail. Snapping

out of it, I pressed the talk button.

"Hello?"

"Dad, this is Peter."

I took a deep steadying breath. "Hi, Petey."

"Dad, first I want you to know that I've been a fuckin' dumbshit."

I wanted to agree with him, but merely said, "Okay."

"Last week Andy came to see me."

I looked over at Andy, who was reading and watching the Raiders play the

Broncos with a shit eatin' grin on his face.

"And," Peter continued, "I'm sorry. Andy made me realize I had no right to judge

you. You have a life to live and by rejecting your choices, I was only hurting myself. He

told me how much you talked about me, how proud you were of me, and…"

Peter went on, trying his best to make amends for his actions and reactions. I just

listened with pride and happiness filling me to the brim. I motioned for Andy to come to

me. When he did, I put my free arm around him and whispered, "I love you," in his ear.

"So, if you can forgive me, will you and Andy come to Chicago for Thanksgiving

with Angie, the boys and me?"

"UBETCHIM!"

"What?"

I chuckled. "You bet we will, Petey. Thank you."

"Okay, well, you can stay here, we have the two extra bedrooms."

Not quite ready to go that far, huh, Petey? Well, that's okay. One step at a time, I

thought. "We'll be there. Kiss Angie and the boys for us."

"Hi to Andy. Bye, Dad."

"Bye."

"Oh, Dave?" Peter reverted to his use of my name as he caught me before

hanging up. "Since things are back to normal, can I have the U of M - OSU tickets for

next week?"

"In your dreams, sonny boy!"

"Just kidding," he said, chuckling. "Bye."

Yeah, right, just kidding, I thought. But if I had said yes you would have been

here in a flash, Petey my boy. I grinned.

I hung up the phone and stepped into a full body embrace. I couldn't describe the

feeling of completeness I now had. A year ago I was a depressed widower with no idea

where my future would go. Now, my life once again had meaning. I had some

mysterious assurance that Patti was at peace. All my children were now willing to go on

with me and my partner. I kissed him hard on the lips.

"Happy Thanksgiving."

"Ubetchim."

* * * *

Andy and I sat on the couch side by side, my arm around his shoulders, playing

with the hair on the back of his neck. His head was on my chest, his left arm on my

stomach. He idly made a circular movement with his hand, occasionally taking a few

strands of hair between his thumb and forefinger, twizzling them there. I released a

contented sigh. This caused Jake, the big yellow lab who was nestled in between my

feet, to raise his head and thump his tail on the carpet. In response Annie, the

shepherd, looked up from her nest behind Andy's knees and surveyed the scene.

I looked around the room. The lights of the Christmas tree were emitting a gentle

glow that illuminated the bay windows with their Christmas villages and snowscapes.

Our second Christmas together was getting off to a good start.

"Do you like the wine?" Andy asked.

He had given me a bottle of Merlot, more expensive than anything I had ever

drunk before. "It's wonderful. Thank you," I replied, kissing him on the top of his head. I

smiled inwardly, thinking of how I had given up wine, my one real indulgence, to support

Andy in his quest for sobriety through his attendance at AA meetings. I knew he felt

badly about my voluntary abstinence, and that his coming into my life was causing too

many sacrifices on my part. He was right on one count—I had made sacrifices to make

our life together work. But too many? Hardly. He had become so important to me I was

more than willing to make as many as needed to ensure we had a long and happy life

together.

There were times during this first year I wasn't all that sure it was going to

happen. But we had survived it, and now things seemed to be straightening out. Our

second Christmas together was definitely going to be easier than the first.

"Has Meg called with the Christmas agenda yet?" Andy asked.

Meg had called several times, as had Kathy and Mike. Having talked to Pete

already, they all wanted to hear the story of Thanksgiving from our side of the fence.

Yes, we slept in separate bedrooms. No, it wasn't a problem for us; it made Peter more

comfortable. Yes, they had invited his usual crowd over for the all day bash of beer and

football and a buffet turkey dinner. Yes, he introduced us as a couple. No, no one

seemed offended. Yes, it was a great time. Yes, Peter and Angie were really looking

forward to Christmas in Ann Arbor.

"No," I said to Andy now, referring to his question about Meg's Christmas agenda

call. "But I expect her to call anytime now."

"Take the phone off the hook."

I looked at him.

"Take the phone off the hook, please."

When I did, Andy got up, went to the chest, took out the fleece blankets and

spread them on the floor before arranging the throw pillows. As he stood in the middle

of the "bed" in front of Claudia, her lights made him a silhouette. He undressed. The

lights filtered translucently through the red hair of his body. I caught my breath. God, he

was beautiful.

He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. With careful, tender touches, he

removed my clothing. Caressing and kissing, we stood in the glow of light before sinking

to our knees. Then Andy lay down on his back.

"It's your turn."

I smiled at him.

"Yes, I'm sure," he said in answer to my unasked question.

Slowly I brought us to full arousal. Using the tube of lube he had provided, I

carefully prepared him for his first experience of being the receiver of male-to-male love.

I massaged him until he was relaxed and open, one finger at a time. I knelt over him. I

had waited for this moment for so long; I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to show him

how much I loved him. He laid his legs on my shoulders, his hands at his sides. His

eyes were closed, his breathing deep and regular. He was fully erect.

I brought my now throbbing cock to his entrance and with slow, steady pressure

passed the ring. He shuddered. His mouth trembled. I bent and kissed it. He raised his

arms around my neck as I lowered myself to him. He relaxed further until, with an

exhale, he accepted the full length of me inside him. Then he opened his eyes.

"Merry Christmas, David."

"Happy Anniversary, Andrew."

Chapter Four: Ghosts of Lives Past

It was the last weekend in January. I sat alone on the couch, leaning forward, my

head in my hands, elbows resting on my knees.

I can do this, I thought. All I have to do is stand up and get started. It won't be

that hard. It won't take that long.

I continued to sit. "Shit, I hate this!"

Just then the door opened. The dogs, who had been sitting next to me wondering

what my expletive could mean, jumped down and ran to it. As they rounded the corner, I

again noticed Annie looking a little stiff. I would have to check with the resident

veterinarian about her.

As I was thinking that, the resident vet in question came into the room. When he

saw our Christmas tree, Claudia, still fully dressed in the corner, his warm smile

faltered. "Oh, you didn't get her put away yet?"

Both Andy and I hated un-decorating after Christmas. I always had. Patti used to

say she refused to dust a Christmas tree, so when it got to that point it would have to

come down. Claudia was at that stage currently, but I hated to give up Christmas and all

the joy it brought now Andy had come into my life.

For Andy, holidays had never fulfilled the promise of joy that seemed to be all

around him during his childhood. Now that they were bringing him the happiness he'd

missed, he seemed to want to hang onto Christmas as long as possible.

"David! You said you would have Claudia…"

"I know. I'm sorry, I really am." I'd promised to have the tree down by the time he

got home so he wouldn't have to deal with it. "It's just so hard to do."

"That's okay. I shouldn't be so silly about it." With that he pulled me to my feet,

took me in his arms and kissed me. "Let's get started then," he said with a deep sigh.

As we began taking the ornaments and lights off our tree, I thought about what I'd

gleaned about Andy's family over the two years I'd known him. Andy never talked much

about his childhood at any one time; just a comment here, a memory there. Piecing

everything together, I finally had a pretty good picture of what it must have been like for

him growing up.

He was the youngest of three children. He had an older sister, Sarah, and a

brother, Barry. His father had left the family when Andy was a toddler. Andy couldn't

remember it well himself, but his brother and sister had told him there was never any

fighting or violence—one day, daddy was simply gone. He'd sent presents on their

birthdays and at Christmas but never included a message, and they never saw him

again.

His mother remarried. The new stepfather was a shithead. He drank. He was

abusive verbally and emotionally. The three siblings hated him. Then his mother died of

cancer. That's when what was left of an already dysfunctional family ceased to exist.

Andy described it as a boarding house rather than a home. At that point, Andy's

biological dad completely dropped out of the picture.

After that, Andy, his brother and his sister got out as soon as they could. Sarah

ran off to marry her high school sweetheart while Barry joined the Marines. Andy got a

full scholarship to Michigan State, left home and never returned. He had no idea where

his stepfather was, nor did he care. Of more concern was what had happened to his

siblings. They had stayed in touch sporadically for a few years, but when Andy's life had

gone into a tailspin, that connection was severed, too.

We continued to undress our tree. My mind turned from musing about Andy's

family to thinking about the events of the past year. It had been interesting, to say the

least. I smiled at the memories and decided if there ever was to be an unadventurous

year in our future, it was a ways off.

Andy broke into my thoughts. "Remember what happened last year on the day

you took Claudia down?"

Oh, I remembered all right!

* * * *

One year ago I'd packed Claudia carefully away in the shed for her long

summer's nap. The dogs and I returned to the house to start stacking the boxes for

storage in the basement. I'd decided to do the job myself because I knew it made Andy

sad to put it all away. Patti, bless her heart, had labeled each box carefully. I

respectfully followed her instructions for putting Christmas to bed for the year. Her

organization once again made it easy.

The doorbell rang. Tails wagging, Annie and Jake trotted to the door with a

perfunctory woof. I felt so protected.

When I opened the door, I saw a very handsome man about my age on the

stoop.

"Well, shit," I said, "look what the cat dragged in!"

It was Steve Wagner, one of my former fuck and suck buddies from years ago.

"Get in here, you son of a bitch!" I dragged him in off the porch and gave him a

hug.

Mistake!

"Man, have I missed you," Steve moaned as he kissed me and tried to suck my

tongue into his mouth. At the same time he dropped his hands down to my butt and

began massaging my cheeks with an expertise I recalled vividly.

"Whoa, what the fuck are you doing?" I said, pushing him away.

"Picking up where we left off a bunch of years ago." He tried to kiss me again. He

also cupped my package and squeezed. Unfortunately my body was not paying

attention to my mind, and I began to respond to him and the unbidden memories he was

bringing forth.

"See, you remember. At least that beautiful cock of yours does."

"Hey, I'm not available, Steve. Stop it!"

"What? Did you remarry? Hell, what difference would that make? You were

married when we were together the last time."

"No, I didn't remarry. But…"

"Ah, you have a boyfriend. Well, shit, ask him to join us. What does he look like?

I bet he's hot."

"Steve, have you been drinking? Slow down, for God's sake. Yes, I have a

boyfriend and yes, he's hot, but we're a monogamous couple."

"Oh, come on, Davey boy, what happened to 'so many cocks, so little time'? That

was your motto, right?"

"Yes, it was, but this is different. This is love." Hell, why was I explaining this to a

man I hadn't seen in years?

"Fuck, it's love for me, too," he laughed. "Ain't nobody that loves man to man sex

more 'n me." He laughed again. He'd been drinking.

"Okay, calm yourself, lover boy." Even as I said that, I couldn't help glancing

down at the more than adequate bulge prominently displayed in his khaki Dockers.

"You old queer. You didn't have any trouble cheatin' on your wife."

Man, that hurt.

"Now you got a boyfriend and you go all righteous on me? Ain't natural.

Monogamy ain't natural for a man, gay or straight."

"Well, natural or not, Andy and I are in a monogamous relationship—so accept it

or leave."

"Andy, is it? Can I meet him? Does he live here?"

"Yes, yes and yes, but only if you behave yourself, you old perv." I smiled at him.

He really was a great guy and we'd had some awesome sex together.

"Okay, cross our dicks and hope to die, I'll be good. Now make me some coffee

so I can be a wide-awake drunk." He laughed.

An hour later we were in the family room catching up while I continued cleaning

up the last evidence that Christmas had been here. When the dogs jumped up and ran

for the back door, I knew Andy was home.

As he came into the family room and saw Steve, Andy gave me a puzzled look.

"Hey," Steve said, getting to his feet and hugging Andy before I could say a word.

Maybe the coffee wasn't doing its job as yet. Well, it was decaf, after all.

Andy looked at me wide-eyed over Steve's shoulder.

Steve released him. "I'm Steve Wagner, a fuck buddy of your old man's from

years ago. Great to meet you." He turned to me. "Man, you weren't kiddin'. This kid is a

hottie, you lucky fuck."

"Uh, hi, I'm Andy Barnes." Andy turned to me with a what's going on here? look

on his face.

"Steve is an old friend from my past life," I said with emphasis on the last two

words, hoping Andy would realize nothing had happened and nothing was in the works.

Steve was on a roll, though. "What are you into, Andy? This old queen insists you

guys are monogamous."

"Uh, we are." Andy still looked confused.

"Well, how would you feel about a three-way, just for the hell of it?"

"Steve, shut up!" I was on my feet.

"Hey, let the man speak for himself. Maybe he would be into something like that.

What about it, Mr. Barnes?"

"Dr. Barnes!" I steamed.

"Oh, excuse me." Steve made a little bow. "Dr. Barnes."

"I never had, um, had one. I wouldn't know."

"Shit, only one way to find out. Ask ol' Davey here. Three-ways were pretty hot,

weren't they?"

"Steve, all this is way out of line. Please, just shut up, sit down and sober up."

We sat down—but Steve didn't let up.

"So, if you ain't into three-ways, what are you into? Details, I want details!" He

laughed.

Jesus! I clasped my head with both hands.

Looking bewildered, Andy replied, "David is the only man I've ever been with."

"Oh my God! That is too unbelievable, a hot kid like you. Where have you been

hiding all your life? But then, you've been taught by one of the best. I bet you guys get it

on fuckin' hot."

"W-w-well yes, I guess so," Andy stammered, looking at me for help.

"I know so," Steve came back. "Of all of our fuck friends, this man was the best,"

he said pointing at me. "That settles it. We gotta expand your education. We gotta have

a three-way."

At this point I tried to take over. "No, we don't. We aren't interested. So just

back—"

"Let this fucker talk for himself." Steve moved to sit next to Andy, placing his

hand on Andy's thigh.

I was ready to deck him.

"Steve." Andy seemed to have regained his composure. Diplomatically, more

than I would have been, he said, "I'm flattered you would want to get it on with me." He

winked at me. "But I think we've made it clear we're interested only in the relationship

we have here." He pointedly got up, walked over to me, put his arm around my shoulder

and kissed me on the cheek. "So change the subject or get the hell out of our home."

Steve roared with laughter. "Well, I'll be a motherfucker. I always believed in

those sayings about a leopard not changing his spots and an old dog with new tricks.

Son of a bitch if I haven't just witnessed they're wrong with my own eyes. You, Andy,

have done it to this old letch. Okay, I'll shut the hell up." He laughed again.

The atmosphere during the rest of the evening changed. We talked about less

provocative things like our jobs, Steve's divorce and how we met. At about eleven

o'clock Steve, in a much more sober state, announced he was going to leave.

Out of the woods, I thought as we walked Steve to the door.

Wrong!

"Well, I'll be in town for another week," Steve said. Putting his arms around

Andy's neck and pulling him in, Steve continued, "I'm staying at Weber's on Jackson. If

you change your mind and can talk your keeper into it, call me." Then he kissed Andy.

Shit, the man just doesn't give up!

Andy didn't return the kiss. He pulled back. "I think we made ourselves pretty

clear, but thanks for the ego boost." He smiled and broke from Steve's embrace. He

made a point of taking me in his arms. "If you want to have lunch with us," he said,

accentuating the last word, "you know how to get a hold of us."

"Shit, you guys are something else. I'm happy for you, really, but the offer still

stands. I hope it's not too late to find someone else to keep my bed warm tonight."

We all smiled, hugged loosely and said good night.

That night I lay on our bed on my back, idly stroking myself. I heard Andy in the

shower, singing off key as usual. Even as the thought of what was in the next room

started getting me hard, my mind began to drift. Uninvited memories of Steve and me

came into my head—Steve and me fucking, sucking each other; Steve, Don, Greg,

Roger and me daisy chaining, chain fucking; me with each of them individually. These

men had made up the local Gay Married Men's Club.

"David! David, can you hear me?" Andy's voice broke into my reverie.

"Yes," I called back.

"Come in 'ere, please."

I got up, my swollen penis directing the way to the bathroom. "Yeah?"

"I mean come in here," Andy seductively crooned from the shower stall.

Oh boy, playtime!

I entered the steamy stall. Andy immediately engulfed me with his soap-covered

body, lathered mine with his own. He was exquisitely erect, so hard he was standing

past horizontal, parallel to his stomach. It was one of those erections that's almost

painful to have touched.

"Turn around," he ordered. He placed my hands on the wall of the shower stall

and began to relax me with soap-covered fingers. The combination of warm water, soap

and desire allowed me to open quickly. He pressed his throbbing cock head against my

hole. I tightened my sphincter purposefully to prolong the anticipation of our union.

Taking in a breath, he pushed harder. I relaxed and he entered me. Waves of

happiness and love swept through my body. Slowly he continued pushing in until his

stomach lay flat against my back. As his pace increased, I felt myself building to climax

and reached for myself with my left hand.

"No." He pushed my hand away. "I have other plans for little Mr. Bennett."

With a moan, I submitted to the torture.

In a short time he was whining and growling all at the same time. Then his body

spasmed and he flooded my body with his love.

It was all I could do to keep from bringing myself to completion. I almost did when

he turned me, crushed me to him and kissed me deeply while undulating against me. I

wanted him so badly.

We stepped out of the shower and dried each other. Hand in hand we walked to

our bed. He arranged the pillows in a pile against the headboard and lay down on his

back. I straddled his chest facing the wall. His hands grasped my glutes and began a

sensuous kneading motion. Then he pulled me forward and took my straining penis into

the deepest recesses of his mouth. I leaned against the wall with both hands. I was so

close by this time that even though he tried to heighten my pleasure by delaying my

orgasm, he couldn't. In a matter of seconds I was returning the gift he'd given me in the

shower. I slowly slid down on top of him. We stayed in that position, kissing, holding,

loving until we fell asleep.

The following Tuesday night we were holding each other once again after we'd

made love. Although he was always a very passionate lover, I thought his responses

lately seemed more intense than they usually were.

"David?"

"Hmm?" I replied drowsily.

"David, I've been thinking about Steve."

"Oh?" I said. Oh shit! I thought.

"Yeah, and I was thinking maybe we might…if you don't mind…we could…call

him, if you really don't mind…and set up a time to…uh, to be together. Um, like he

suggested? If it's okay with you?"

If I don't mind? If it's okay with me? Damn straight, I mind! No, it is not okay with

me! But aloud I said, "Ah, sure, if that's what you really would like to do." How could I,

the one who'd had such a rich and varied sex life before Patti died, play overseer and

deny Andy the chance to experience things for himself?

"Yes, I really think I would like to try it. Could you call him?"

"What made you change your mind?" I was trying to stay calm but I could feel my

heart beginning to race along with my mind.

"I don't really know. I guess I've just been thinking about what he said about me

not being too experienced and, well, I guess I'm kind of curious. Don't take it as

meaning you're not great, because you are, but…" He floundered, hesitating as if

deciding he'd said too much already.

Damn! That might explain why his lovemaking was more intense this past week.

He'd probably been fantasizing about a three-way. Shit!

"Well, okay, sure," I replied as nonchalantly as I could. "I'll call him."

Steve Wagner, you fuckin' asshole, why the hell couldn't you have just stayed

hidden in the past!

I called Steve and set it up for Friday at eight, insisting it be at his room at

Weber's. I didn't want any ghosts of Steve Wagner floating around our bedroom after

this was over.

Friday finally arrived. I'd been dreading it all week. Neither Andy nor I had

mentioned it after I'd told him I had it all set up. We took separate showers to get

ourselves ready. I felt about as sexual as I imagined Mother Theresa would have in my

situation.

As we were leaving the house, Andy stopped and looked at me. "Ah, do you think

we should stop at the drug store to get some, ah, protection? I mean, just in case?"

I looked back at him. I hoped I hadn't shaken my head in disgust, but I sure was

feeling it. "No, I'm sure ol' Stevie will have thought of that."

And more, I thought. The man loves poppers!

"Okay...let's go," Andy said.

Did I note a hesitancy in his voice? I hoped I wasn't imagining it.

We stood outside of Steve's door. We'd hardly knocked when it flew open, and

there he was in a towel and nothing else. Not going to beat around the bush are we,

Steve?

I had to admit he was attractive—his handsome face with its white Van Dyke, his

barrel chest covered with silver hair that once had been black. His belly had a slight

paunch but somehow that added to his erotic charm. The thick mat of curly hair on his

belly was darker than his chest hair, and I guessed the pubic bush I now remembered

so well would be even closer to its youthful color. My cock was stirring as the old

memories began to flood my mind. Maybe I could do this?

"Come on in 'ere, you fuckin' queers. Let's get this show on the road. I'm hornier

than hell. Haven't even touched myself since you called so I'd have an extra load or two

stored up for ya." He winked and put a hand on the back of Andy's head.

His attitude toward what I now considered sacred blew away the momentary

confidence I'd just felt. I wouldn't be able to pull this off.

Steve kissed us both. I endured it. I tried to gage Andy's response but couldn't.

We followed him into the main part of the room. As he walked in front of us, he let

the towel fall from his waist and I beheld once more the absolutely perfect glutes I had

nested in so many years before. The hair on his ass was thick and still black. I heard

Andy's intake of breath.

Steve stopped at the bed and turned around. His thick, eight-inch cock was hard

and protuberant. Andy again responded audibly.

"How about a little bubbly to celebrate old times and new ones, too?"

"Andy doesn't drink!" I snapped protectively.

"Whoa, Davey. Keepin' him on a real tight chain, ain't we? What about it, stud?

Speak for yourself."

I was seething.

"I'm in a program at AA," Andy said.

"Oops, sorry about that. Well, me 'n Davey will just have to drink your share

then." Steve laughed. He poured himself a glass and handed one to me. "To the

beginning of a great friendship," he said, downing his portion in one gulp. I sipped mine

and put it on the bed stand.

Then Steve reached out and began to undress Andy. My heart sank. This was it.

I watched him peel off each article of my man's clothing and, as if under some magical

control, I removed the matching article from my own body. Finally we were all naked.

We stood in a circle—Steve was hard and proud, Andy at half-mast, his beautiful

cockhead still hidden in its sheath. And me? I glanced down. I looked like a turtle pulled

into its shell. Did I have a dick? I remembered seeing one there before we left home.

Steve reached out to start fondling us both at the same time. Neither of us

reciprocated. Steve's manipulations had some effect on the turtle and I started to grow.

When he pulled us into an embrace and moved his hands to our buttocks, I put my head

on his shoulder and snuggled into his neck. At least I could try to enjoy it. I sensed

rather than saw he was kissing Andy. I shut my eyes tight and prayed.

"No!" Andy said.

I looked up. Andy had pushed back from us. I stepped back as well and punched

the air with my fist. "Yes!" I shouted.

"No," Andy said again. "I can't do this. If I do, what David and I have will—"

"Never be the same again," I finished.

He smiled, turned to me and whispered, "Forgive me."

I took him in my arms and kissed him as if we were alone. The turtle was alive

and well.

"Well, shit!" Steve sank down on the bed, stroking himself. "At least let me whack

off watching you two get it on."

"That's not what it's all about for us," Andy said. "Bye, Steve."

We got dressed and together kissed Steve on each cheek.

"Don't call us, we'll call you," Andy said over his shoulder as we were leaving.

At home in bed we held each other close. We didn't make love physically, but

emotionally, spiritually, we were on a new plane. Neither of us would regret our evening

with Steve. He had done more for us than he could ever understand. From this point on,

we were one. We belonged to each other, body and soul.

Chapter Five: Of Vacations and Miracles

The plane rose steeply into the cloudless sky, banked and headed for

Providence. We were finally on our way to visit Mike and John for two full weeks. We

were flying into Providence rather than Boston because the airport was easier to

navigate and not that far a drive for the boys.

Originally we'd planned to go during spring break but Andy had gotten busy with

shots and worming, not only at the barn but for others as well. He was less expensive

than the vet practices and he was available when people needed him, so he was

building up lots of contacts in the neighborhood of the barn. They were calling him

regularly.

"Did you leave the Rimadyl for Annie with Meg?" Andy asked. Jake and Annie

were staying with her for the two weeks.

"Yes. It seems to be helping her." I hoped that observation was correct. She did

seem less stiff these days.

The flight went smoothly and soon we were deplaning and walking into the

terminal. Mike and John were waiting for us as we left the concourse. We passed

around hugs and greetings, then headed for the baggage claim.

"Where will we be staying?" I asked. Mike and John were doing very well

financially and had a condo in Provincetown on Cape Cod, a two-flat home in Hyde

Park and another condo in a brownstone they owned in downtown Boston. The second

flat, the balance of the brownstone condos, and the one on the Cape were all rented

and provided a nice supplemental income. The Cape property was rented by the week

100

so it brought in almost as much as the five condos in the brownstone, but they kept it

available for themselves when they needed it.

"We'll be staying all three places, depending on the activity of the day." Mike

smiled as he explained the whirlwind experience he had planned for us. I'd been here

twice before, once with Patti alone and once with Patti, Meg and Sean. Both times our

Bostonians had itineraries that rivaled the best tour guides anywhere. It was going to be

a fun two weeks.

One of Mike's goals was to get us to feel comfortable as a gay couple. Ann Arbor

was a gay-friendly town, but as a teacher I still had to be careful. I felt this way

especially after the trial the summer before. Mike wanted us to experience what it was

like to be in an environment where being gay was the norm. I wondered if he would

succeed.

We spent our first night at the Hyde Park residence. John cooked a New

England-style fish dinner, after which we sat in Mike's newly redone living room talking

and laughing. We retired about midnight. As soon as we were in bed, Andy scooted

over and began to suggest with his lips and hands that we play. I was slow to respond.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, Mike and John are right next door."

"And just what do you suppose they're doing? Saying the rosary?"

"Very funny, but it's…well, it's just that he's my son."

Andy laughed softly, pulled me on top of him and seductively whispered in my

ear, "That's the point of this trip, Daddy. To let you experience what it's like to be gay

and comfortable. So, are you comfortable where you are now?"

101

"Hmm, yeah, I'm gettin' there."

I could feel us both getting hard. This was one of our favorite positions—belly to

belly, chest to chest, my legs spread outside his, our hard cocks trapped between us.

The more we humped, the more the pre-cum coated us and the easier we slid our cocks

over and around each other. In this position we could easily kiss and caress each

other's nipples, necks, faces. That night we took full advantage of it. As free as I was

feeling when the time of climax arrived, I made sure my mouth was on his so our moans

of pleasure were as muted as possible. I guess I had a ways to go before feeling

completely comfortable in my new skin.

The next morning we packed to move to the brownstone. Once settled there, we

went for a walk around downtown Boston, stopping at a diner for breakfast. Though

crowded and noisy, it had an atmosphere you couldn't help but enjoy.

The waiter came over and kissed John. "Hey, Johnny, where ya been? Haven't

you been missing your Casey? Hi, Mikey, you bad boy, you've been keeping my heart's

desire from me. I may have to have you spanked for that."

Before I could recover from the scene that was playing out before me, Casey

turned to Andy and me. "Oh, new friends. And hot ones, too."

"Casey, this is my dad, Dave, and his partner, Andy. They're here visiting from

Ann Arbor."

"Ooh, kinky, a daddy who's a real daddy. How cool is that?" Casey tittered. "Now,

gentlemen, what can I get you for breakfast—besides me?" He winked.

"How ya doin', Daddy?" Mike chuckled after we ordered and Casey left.

"Well…that was different. Is this part of your campaign to gayify me?"

102

Andy didn't look as if he were any more comfortable with the campy behavior of

the waiter than I was. "I guess you get used to it after awhile."

"We come in all shapes and sizes," John quipped. "There, too," he laughed as he

caught me looking at the more than ample packages of two men who'd come in. They

looked like body builders, dressed in tight short shorts and tank tops. Their muscles

bulged, as did their full baskets. I blushed.

"There's a Gold's Gym right down the block," Mike said. "It's not where we work

out, too many steroid freaks there. We'll take you to our gym tomorrow."

Andy laughed. "David, put your eyes back in your head."

The body builders had joined a group of older men at a table by the window.

They bent over, giving the older men deep kisses and showing the rest of the diner two

sets of magnificent buns. One of the older men was massaging the buns of one of the

builders and saying how firm they were becoming. This, indeed, was a whole different

world.

That night we were to go to an honest-to-God gay bar. Neither Andy nor I had

ever been to one before. John and Mike tried to prepare us for the experience. Mike

made me promise to copy his actions. If he took John's hand, I would take Andy's; if he

put his arms around John's waist, I'd do the same to my partner. If he kissed John, I

was to kiss Andy no matter where we were at the time. I wasn't sure about this but

would give it a try.

As we walked to the bar, Mike took John's hand and looked back over his

shoulder. "Ahem."

"Oh...oh yes." I shrugged and took Andy's hand. Every time we walked past

103

anyone I wanted to let go, but I persevered. My face felt hot.

Once in the bar it felt different. The majority of the patrons obviously were riding

the same bus we were. Once again I was struck by the variety of shapes, sizes and

ages represented. The overriding factor was relaxing and having fun. I took a deep

breath. Even in our own home I didn't always feel as comfortable as I did here, since I

sometimes worried the neighbors were wondering what was going on.

John and Mike got up to dance.

Uh oh.

"Well?" Andy asked, putting out his hand.

Before I could answer, a very nice-looking young man came over and asked if he

could dance with my friend. He said he would take good care of him and bring him right

back. His smile was dazzling.

"Go ahead," I said to Andy, "I need to get up the courage here." I smiled. It was

okay.

"Okay," Andy said and disappeared onto the dance floor.

I sat there for a while. A pleasant looking, if overweight, older man asked if he

could sit down.

"My name's Carl," he introduced himself.

"David."

We shook hands.

"Nice to meet you, David. It looks like my partner has stolen yours from you.

Nathan loves to dance and I'm afraid I don't cut it for him."

Carl and I talked while we watched the younger guys do their thing on the dance

104

floor. Eventually Andy and Nathan returned, as did Mike and John. It seemed my son

and his partner already knew Carl and Nathan, and launched into conversation. I looked

over at Andy. Love showed openly on his face as he looked at me. This was good for

us.

The music started again. This time it was a slow song, so I got up and pulled

Andy to his feet. On the dance floor I held him close and we swayed rather than danced

to the music. I was aware there were others around us, but at the same time we were in

our own little world, a world where what we were and how we felt about each other was

totally accepted and celebrated.

"You two sure enjoyed that dance," Mike said when we returned, nodding his

head in the direction of our bulging Dockers.

"Oh my God!"

Not all our time was spent in the gay community. We did many general tourist

things, too—toured the harbor by paddleboat, rode the Duck Boats through the city and

into the Charles River, visited the Old North Church and Old Ironsides. All the while

Mike kept checking to see if I was still playing follow the leader. I was. I was becoming

more and more comfortable with it as well. In fact, there were times when we held

hands or I had a hand in Andy's back pocket even when Mike and John weren't leading

the way.

The only downtime for me was the trip on the whale watching boat. Andy was so

excited about seeing whales and watching them breach. I didn't have the heart to tell

him I was seasick.

After a couple more days in Boston proper, we returned to Hyde Park, where we

105

met Ed, the gay man who rented the downstairs half of the house. He lived there with

his dog Bailey, a one eyed German Shepherd-Rottweiler cross. Andy and Bailey hit it off

immediately, which made Andy a hit with Ed as well.

After dinner at Ed's and another night at the Hyde Park base, we headed out to

Newport and ultimately to P-town. Mike invited Ed and Bailey to come with us but Ed

declined, saying he would feel like a fifth wheel. Nothing we said could change his mind.

Mike explained Ed was still healing from a relationship of several years that had ended

recently. This information made me uneasy and I took Andy's hand in mine as we rode

along. He squeezed it reassuringly.

Newport was beautiful. We took the cliff walk and saw whales playing in the surf.

Along the rocks at the base, people were swimming with their dogs. The ocean breeze

was wonderful. We toured the mansions of America's rich and famous all along the

cliffs. We were denied entrance to a restaurant because I was wearing a tank top. At the

same time, three young lovelies walked in with their sting halters and were seated. That

threw John into a frenzy of protest, demanding to know why a man in a tank top was

being discriminated against. Mike calmed him down and I went to a shop next door to

buy a tee-shirt. We left the tank top on the table as a tip. I felt like a kid again.

We made the last ferry to Martha's Vineyard on the Cape. It was cold on the

ferry, so we snuggled in the lounge chairs usually occupied by folks catching some sun

on the forty-five minute trip to the island. Once there, we slept at a bed and breakfast

run by a gay couple who were so solicitous over our comfort, we expected them to be

standing by the bed to make sure we made it to the can to pee.

That night we had dinner at an open-air restaurant on the bay. We walked in past

106

a huge lobster tank and ordered—what else?—lobster. When I realized I was going to

have to choose one of those little guys to be sacrificed for my eating pleasure, I asked

Andy to pick one for me. I didn't think I could eat Lobby after looking into his beady, little

eyes.

We left the Vineyard on the last ferry of the night. Andy and I sat huddled on a

lounger as the sun set. An orange glow reflected off the gulls following the ferry in

hopes of a handout. Under a canvas we'd found folded under the chairs, Andy brought

me to full erection and then climax right there on the deck. No one around us suspected

a thing. Thank God for Navy blue shorts. Thank God for this vacation.

We arrived at Provincetown after midnight and went right to bed. In the morning I

walked out onto the balcony to watch the sun rise over the ocean. Andy came up behind

me, put his arm around my waist and placed a cup of decaf in my hand.

"Beautiful," I murmured, nodding to the sunrise.

"Beautiful," he said, looking into my eyes.

I blushed.

P-town was a whole different experience. As we walked around town and down

to the beach, I don't think I saw anyone in anything other than a sexy body shirt, tight

tank top or no shirt at all. It didn't seem to matter if you looked good that way or not. The

attire at the beach was even more revealing—Speedos, thongs or nothing. It was quite

a lesson in male anatomy. Andy and I had worn boxer trunks while John and Mike opted

for Speedos. In Ann Arbor at the public pool, I would have been mortified to wear a

thong or a Speedo. I would've been arrested if I had gone au natural. Here, I felt like I

might be hauled away by the prude squad for what I was wearing. What a reversal!

107

That afternoon, John and Mike took Andy aside. They're up to something, I

thought as I watched them whispering.

I found out exactly what it was shortly after dinner. Mike and John told us we

were going for a ride around the comma part of the Cape's peninsula. We reached a

secluded beach and got out of Mike's Blazer. It was beautiful, quiet except for the gulls,

and so peaceful.

"Bye," Mike said, winking at Andy.

"Bye?"

"Pick you up in two hours," John added.

Then they left. A picnic hamper was left sitting next to the spot where the Blazer

had been parked. In it were blankets, lanterns, non-alcoholic sparkling wine and a

basket of fruit.

Still confused, I turned to Andy. He had taken off all his clothing. His body was

bronzed in the setting sun. I stood looking at him, and then realized I'd started to

undress. I also became aware that we both were getting more and more erect. Andy

walked forward, took me by the hand and led me to the water. We walked in up to our

chests. He turned and pressed against me. Our lips and tongues met. Arms around my

neck, he raised himself and put his legs around my waist in one swift movement. The

buoyancy of the water made him as light as a feather. As we continued to kiss, he

reached down and lined me up, then slowly lowered himself onto my stiffening rod until

he was totally impaled. He looked into my eyes. Measuring his words, he said, "You.

Mean. Everything. To. Me." I buried my head against his chest. The gentle action of the

swells did the work for us. As if in synchronization with the rhythm of nature, we were

108

brought closer and closer to mutual gratification and completion. Andy came first. His

seed was washed into the waves as an offering to the forces of creation. My climax was

saved deep within him, a testimony to my love for him. I carried him out of the bay and

put him down. We unfolded the blankets, drank wine and fed fruit to each other by the

light of the lanterns. We didn't speak. We didn't need to. Eventually we fell asleep.

"Hey, Dad. Wake up." Mike was shaking my shoulder. He and John loomed

above me.

I smiled. Then I blushed. I was lying naked under a blanket with my lover, and my

son was standing there smiling at me. Andy got up without embarrassment. He stood

and offered me his hand. I didn't know what to do. They all started laughing at me as I

struggled to cover myself with the blanket.

Finally I said, "Shit," and stood up. After all I'd learned this week about accepting

who I was, I decided I could stand naked before anyone and be proud. I walked over to

Andy and without hesitation kissed him.

* * * *

Our time on the Cape came to an end all too soon and we headed back to Hyde

Park. When we arrived, a message on the answering machine called John to work a

flight to Amsterdam. He wasn't too pleased but he accepted it and left the next morning.

That night we went to a restaurant in an area Ed explained was being renovated

by the gay community. The pattern seemed to be that gay men moved into a rundown

area, remodeled it and raised the value of the area. Then the yuppies moved in, paying

top dollar, and the gay reconstruction machine moved on. No wonder Boston was so

gay-friendly.

109

"This is going to be fun," Mike chuckled. "This place is run by two gay guys. It's a

hole in the wall but has a great menu. For some reason it attracts an interesting group

of people. Straights come to see us." He laughed. "And interesting gay guys come to

put on a show for the straights. It's a hoot. We've invited an older gay couple to join us."

Although there was a crowd in the cramped waiting area, Ed was greeted with

enthusiasm by one of the owners and we were allowed entrance immediately. We were

kissed and groped by the maitre d' and pointed at by some straight, or maybe

repressed, tourists.

"Norman and Nelson called. They're running late. They'll join you as soon as they

can," the maitre d' informed us as we were seated.

"Typical," Ed laughed.

I noticed Andy had a funny look on his face at the mention of the couple, but

didn't say anything.

After we had given our drink orders to a rather cute young waiter, Ed told us

about the friends he had invited to join us. "I think you'll really enjoy meeting Nelson and

Norman," he said. "They've been together for more than thirty years."

Mike added, "They were among the first to take advantage of Massachusetts's

same sex marriage law."

"Norman is a hoot," Ed went on. "He's a real character. You're in for a treat."

As we sipped our drinks and awaited the arrival of the other couple, Mike and Ed

entertained us by pointing out the different groups of people at various tables. "Those

guys are on their first date. They're trying to impress each other and at the same time

trying to decide who's going to pay." It was an expensive establishment.

110

"Over there, they've been together too long. They're completely bored with each

other and are checking out everyone in the restaurant."

I looked at Andy.

He mouthed, "Never," and kissed my hand.

Ed continued, "These two are just starting out. They probably just made love for

the first time last night or this afternoon and can't wait to get it on again.

"That couple with the kids—well, it's his weekend to have his children come stay.

He's divorced and has childcare rights every other weekend. His partner doesn't like

kids.

"They're straight. They can't believe what they're seeing."

We laughed.

At that point I caught sight of two older men heading toward our table and

surmised they were the couple Ed had invited, perhaps to give us a taste of the

permanence some men can achieve in relationships. Norman was short, stocky and

very pleasant looking with a full white beard and a twinkle in his eye. Nelson was tall

and handsome. He had a moustache and steel blue eyes. I liked them both at once.

Ed rose and hugged them. Mike followed suit. Andy and I got to our feet as well.

"David, Andy—meet Norman and Nelson. David is Mike's dad and Andy is—"

"Silly boy," said Norman. "We're old, but senility hasn't set in just yet. We

remember who you told us they are."

We all laughed and exchanged hugs and pecks on the cheek, which it was

becoming clear to me was the standard gay greeting in these circles, whether you knew

someone or not.

111

The young waiter returned to get the new arrivals' drink orders. Norman made a

fuss over him being the cutest little apple that ever grew on a tree and pinched his butt.

Nelson feigned exasperation at this and Norman pretended not to know what he could

be upset about. They were quite a couple.

During our meal Norman and Nelson provided the entertainment with stories of

their life together. It gave me a warm feeling to know gay men could have such a full

and rich relationship. I noticed Andy kept stealing glances at Nelson, who sat across the

table from him.

As we were eating desert, Ed told a funny story about his dog's veterinarian.

"Isn't that right, Dr. Barnes?" he said with a laugh, pointing at Andy.

"Excuse me," Nelson said, "your name is Barnes? Andrew Barnes?"

Andy nodded. "Yes."

"And you're a vet?" Nelson asked.

Andy nodded again.

"Well, why didn't I notice sooner?" Ed said with a laugh. "You both have the same

last name."

"Nelson Barnes?" Andy said almost in a whisper.

I looked from Andy to Nelson. I saw two sets of eyes, steel blue, piercing,

familiar. In an instant I knew where this was going, and yet I couldn't believe it.

Nelson closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking at Andy again. He

stood and reached in his jacket pocket, taking a photograph out of his wallet. It was a

high school graduation picture. It was Andy.

Everything stopped, then went into slow motion. Andy's mouth fell open, then

112

closed. He mouthed, "Dad." He stood up and grasped the older man by the arms.

"Dad?"

Mike stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. Ed looked at me with a strange

expression on his face. I felt dizzy.

"Dad?" Andy staggered backward. I stood and steadied him.

* * * *

Mr. Nelson Barnes and Mr. Norman Perkins returned with us to Mike's house in

Hyde Park. We all sat and listened as Nelson and Norman told the story of their love,

how they'd tried to hide it from Nelson's family, and how they had been found out. They

told of the decision, made by Nelson and Andy's mother, to have him silently drop out of

the family. In tears that rended the soul, Nelson repented to Andy for all the hurt he had

caused. Then he sat with his hands folded between his legs and his head bowed.

Norman was next to him, stroking his shoulder.

Andy remained silent for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was filled with

emotion. "If it hadn't been for the things that have happened to me in the last two years,"

he said steadily, "I don't know what I would be saying to you. You have destroyed a

family. You have no idea how bad it got after Mom remarried. Then when she died it

was even worse. Jack was so abusive, we all left. Now I don't even know where my

brother and sister are."

Nelson let out a sigh that bordered on a sob. Norman tightened his grip on

Nelson's shoulder.

Andy continued, "Yet because of the love of this man," he walked over and sat

on the arm of the couch next to me, putting his hand on my arm, "I can understand why

113

you did it. I…want to forgive you. I can't right now, but I want to. If you give me some

time, maybe I can."

Nelson looked up. He was still crying but there was hope and love in those

familiar steel blue eyes, so like Andy's.

He mouthed the words, "Thank you, son."

That night in bed after Nelson and Norman left, I held Andy as he cried. I thought

he'd never stop. I just held him, not knowing what else I could do to offer him comfort.

John returned from flight duty two days before we left. Mike had already let him

know about recent events—how Andy, a stranger in a strange town, just happened to

be in the right place at the right time for a miracle to happen.

Or was it a miracle? Andy wasn't the man I had brought to Boston. He was quiet,

introspective and distant. Each night he let me hold him while he asked questions, ones

that had no firm answers. Why didn't Nelson handle it the way you did, David? Why

couldn't he have just been more careful and not been found out? Didn't he know leaving

his family was its downfall? Why didn't he ever try to contact us? All he ever did was

send presents, never a note, never a phone call. And Mom was part of that decision!

Then he would cry again.

I tried to give him answers, knowing I could only speak from my own experience,

aware I was mostly guessing. How could I know what went on in another man's heart? I

told Andy my experiences weren't love but just sex. Obviously Nelson and Norman were

in love. Love made more demands than sex. I didn't know what I'd have done if I'd found

Andy at a different time in my life, one prior to Patti's death. I reminded him how Peter

had reacted when we first came out to him, how Meg had struggled even though she

114

had accepted our relationship. I also reminded him this had started over thirty years

ago, when the openness of a relationship like ours was even more impossible to

achieve than now. After hearing all this each night, Andy would drift off to sleep.

"How's he doing?" John asked as he, Mike and I sat in the kitchen sipping our

morning coffee.

"Struggling to come to grips with—" I started.

"Hi, John. When did you get back?" It was Andy, showered, shaved and looking

wonderful in his U of M loungers, bare-chested.

I got up and went over to him. He kissed me.

"I got back just about—" John checked his watch. "Thirty-five minutes ago. I hear

you had quite a shock."

Andy half laughed, "About a billion kilowatts, I would estimate." He drew a deep

breath. "But I think I'll survive."

I looked at him, hoping he'd turned some corner, come to some level of

acceptance.

"Mike, can you drive me over to Nelson's place? I need to talk to him. I have his

telephone number, so we can get directions."

"Sure," Mike said.

I started to get out of my chair." I'll get dressed. It'll only take me five—"

"No, David, Please, I need to do this on my own."

I nodded and sat back down.

Andy seemed upbeat as he and Mike said goodbye and walked down the back

stairs.

115

"It's gonna be okay," John reassured me. "He's gonna be okay."

Twenty minutes later Mike returned, having dropped off Andy. We went out to

lunch. The afternoon wore on. I wondered what was going on. I wasn't exactly worried; I

just wanted to know everything would be all right with my man.

At about six o'clock, a car pulled up below as I stood in the window of the sun

porch. I watched Andy get out of the passenger side. Then Nelson emerged from the

driver's side, walked around the car and embraced his son. They broke apart and

looked up at the window where I stood. With arms around each other's waist, they

waved to me. I waved back. Miracles do happen.

* * * *

October is truly a beautiful month in Michigan. Our street is made up of maples,

which were a riot of color this year. The colored leaves, the nip in the air, pumpkins and

corn shucks on the doorsteps—I loved it all.

The dogs and I were going for a trail ride. At the barn, I jumped down from the

cab of my truck, Jake hopped out of the truck bed and Annie climbed down from the

truck seat. The medication Andy had prescribed was definitely doing its job.

I stopped in the barn and asked Katie, one of the riding instructors, if I could use

Buttercup, a school lesson horse. Jake, Annie and I walked out to the pasture to get the

mare. As we walked past the paddock where the spring foals were kept, they cantered

over to the fence, tails raised and snorting. They thought they were stallions already.

"Hi, babies," I said rubbing their noses and reminding them of their status in the

herd. I reached into my pockets and brought out sugar cubes and baby carrots. "Here

ya go." They eagerly accepted my gifts.

116

The next pasture was for the school horses. The three fat ponies and four small

horses who lived there were used for beginner lessons and summer horse camp. They

were safe and reliable and worth their weight in gold for those attributes. I entered the

pasture and walked toward the small herd, looking for Buttercup.

She saw me coming and lifted her head. It seemed to me she sighed as if to say,

Oh boy, I gotta lug fatty around again. She came to me, anyhow, lowering her head for

a good scratch behind the ears and a treat. I slipped her halter on and we walked back

to the barn. The warmth of the sun had stimulated a chorus of cicadas and other

insects.

I could hear a discussion going on in the barn office as I brushed Buttercup and

cleaned her hooves in the groom stall. The voices belonged to Ben, the barn owner,

and his wife Janet, the trainer. I could hear Andy as well.

Hm, what's going on?

I really wanted to stay and find out what it was, but as the voices sounded happy

and excited, not angry or upset, I decided not to butt in on barn business. I led

Buttercup outside and mounted. We headed west and then north along a turn-out

paddock fence. Two geldings out for their morning exercise came to greet us. It made

me think of the days when Meg's horses roamed this pasture. These were both happy

and sad memories—those years had gone so fast. Too fast.

The trails behind the barn were many and varied. You could ride for hours along

the Huron River, among hills and valleys, woods and meadows. Meg and I as well as

our friends from the barn used to pack a lunch and ride all day, stopping at an old picnic

table by the river to eat. From a ridge overlooking an unused stone quarry which

117

sported a natural mineral spring, you could see groups of U of M frat boys enjoying a

nude swim if you were lucky, and if there were no youngsters with you.

As I rode this trail along the ridge, hoping my luck was holding, I heard hoof

beats behind me. The horse was running flat out. Jake turned and barked. I was worried

a trail rider had gotten thrown by a runaway. Thank God I was on steady ol' Buttercup.

"Wait up, David, wait!" It was Andy.

What the hell?

He reined in beside me, dismounted and pulled me from the saddle onto the

ground. We rolled over and over. Jake and Annie licked our faces and barked.

Buttercup merely sighed and dropped her head to graze. Humans, I imagined her

saying. Andy's mount had trotted a few yards away, but as soon as he saw Buttercup

wasn't upset by our antics, he followed suit and grazed, too.

"You aren't gonna fuckin' believe this, you are not going to fuckin' believe this!"

"Wha—?" was all I managed to get out. Andy was on top of me, pinning my

shoulders to the ground, grinding his hips into mine.

"Fuck, I love you!" he said before kissing me.

* * * *

"Okay," I said once we'd gotten home that night. I'd fed the dogs and Andy was

fixing dinner. "You were so excited, as well as exciting, up there on the bluff, I'm not

sure I've got all this straight. You're going into vet practice?" He'd been getting offers

regularly since the end of summer by the very practices that had turned him down the

year before. They had to, because he was making such inroads into their business at

our end of the county.

118

"Yep," he replied, turning the steaks he was searing, "with Ben and Janet. We've

been talking about it for a month or more. We knew we had the clientele to get started

and the space to build an office at the barn, but we didn't have the capital to get all the

things you need to start a practice—you know, medical supplies, a vet's HopCap for the

truck, a computer, a secretary, all that shit. I didn't want to tell you until it was set. I

wanted you to be surprised. And I wanted to do it for you, to show you I'm capable, to

show you how grateful I am you gave me this second chance." He paused and kissed

me long and deeply. "Now we have that capital, and so—"

"Andy," I said, taking him in my arms, "this is fuckin' fabulous, but I never doubted

for a minute you were capable."

"I guess I knew that, deep down."

"You needed to know for yourself you were capable. And now you do."

"I just keep thinking of where you found me and what I was like that first night."

"You know now I'd fallen in love with you even before I picked you up," I

confessed.

"Yes, now I do, but I guess I wanted to prove that your belief in me was for real.

That I really was the man you hoped—believed I was."

"Tell me, how did you secure the capital?"

"That's the best part! I mentioned to my dad on the phone that I was trying to get

a loan to start a vet practice but the banks were skeptical. He didn't say much. Then

today Mike called."

"My Mike?"

"Yes. He and John, along with my dad and Norman, are backing the practice.

119

That makes it even better. My dad is backing me. My dad!"

All I could do was smile at this wonderful man who had stolen my heart and filled

my life with joy.

* * * *

The holidays were upon us again. Andy and I were putting the finishing touches

on Claudia while the dogs were lounging on the couch and Christmas music played on

the CD player.

"Maybe next year my dad and Norman will join us for the holiday?" Andy said

with a question in his voice.

We'd invited them this year but they'd refused our invitation, pleading a pre-

arranged cruise to the Caribbean. "I think Nelson just wasn't ready this year. He needs

time to be sure you've forgiven him."

"I have."

When the boxes that had held the decorations were returned to the basement,

Andy made our bed on the floor in front of the tree. We lay there face to face in the glow

of the lights. He ran his hand over my shoulder and down my arm to my fingertips.

Lifting my hand, he placed it against his lips. He kissed me, pulled my fingers inside his

mouth and then licked my palm. His penis head was pushing against mine. He reached

down and pressed his puckered foreskin against the tip of my erection. His pre-cum

coated both of us. Slowly, seductively, we moved into a position where we could taste

each other. His fluids was intoxicating. One of his hands caressed my scrotum, the

other my ass. I responded to his touch by clutching both of his shapely globes in my

hands. In this position I could control my climax. I wanted to time it so we came

120

together, but I was in for a surprise. His tongue found the sensitive groove at the back of

the head and I was gone. All I was aware of was an intense sensation flooding my

penis, balls and thighs. There was no turning back. His presence in my mouth muffled

my moan of pleasure. As my surges subsided, his began. More forceful and copious

than my own, he filled my mouth to overflowing.

At last we returned to our original position facing each other on the bed.

"Still glad you picked me up that stormy night?"

"Ubetchim, Little Beaver. Still glad you decided to stay?"

"Ubetchim, Red Ryder!"

121

Chapter Six: Family Comes in Many Forms

I was in my classroom at school. It was my prep time, the last hour of the day

again this year. I wasn't sure whether I appreciated this or not. It was nice to be done

teaching early in the day, but with no absolute requirements being made on me, I'm

afraid I wasted more time than I would have if prep had been earlier in the day.

I was trying hard to concentrate when the intercom speaker squawked. "Mr.

Bennett?"

"Yes?"

"There's been a delivery for you here in the office," the voice on the intercom

replied. I thought I heard giggling.

"Okay, I'll be right down."

I walked down the hall to the glass-enclosed office. Both secretaries stood

behind the counter, smiling at me through the branches of an enormous bouquet of red

roses.

Holy Mother of Pearl, I thought. What's he done now?

"Oh, Mr. Bennett," twittered Martha. "Me and Sarah think you got a secret

admirer." I cringed inwardly at her lack of grammatical correctness. Sarah, the other

secretary, laughed lightly. "The card isn't signed."

How the hell did she know that? I took the card out of its holder. It wasn't in an

envelope. So much for privacy.

"Come on. Tell us who they're from," Sarah begged.

Had she been hibernating in a cave for the last two years? Everyone at school

122

knew Andy and I were partners.

The card read, Happy Valentine's Day, Red. Twit twit OOOOO. L. B.

"Who's L.B.?"

"Who calls you Red?"

"Come on. Tell us!"

"What do those silly words mean?"

They continued to rapid fire questions at me.

I took a deep breath. "Ladies—" I didn't quite know how to answer them. Of

course L.B. was Little Beaver, my nickname for Andy. The "twit twit" thing was his

imitation of the loon mating call. Loons often form same-sex partnerships and are the

chosen symbol of certain Native American tribes for whom homosexual relations are

accepted. It was Andy's way of saying, "Wait 'til you get home."

Too much information, I thought.

"Ladies," I continued, "believe it or not, I did have red hair when I was younger. I

haven't the foggiest what twit twit oooo means," I lied, "and L.B. is Lauren Bacall."

"Who's she? Do we know her?"

Oh God. Here I thought I was being cute and they didn't know who Lauren Bacall

was. Now I really felt old. Maybe I should've said Lucille Ball. Then they would've gotten

the joke, perhaps.

"These are from Dr. Barnes," I confessed.

"Oh, that's so sweet. I wish my boyfriend would've remembered it was Valentine's

Day," Martha said.

"I'm sure my husband won't," Sarah moaned. "You sure are lucky to have found

123

a man like Dr. Barnes."

"Ah, yes, thanks, I think so, too." I wasn't sure I was comfortable yet with my gay

side being paraded about quite so openly at school.

I walked down the hall holding the vase of flowers in front of me. As I approached

my classroom I was nearly bowled over by someone charging at top speed in the

opposite direction.

"Mr. B., I'm sorry. I need help. Please help me. Please!"

It was Brad Sturgis.

"Brad, what's wrong?" Brad had graduated middle school two years before and

was now a sophomore at the high school. He'd been in my weight training club and was

one of my favorite students.

He was out of breath and white as a sheet. Mr. Collins, his high school strength

training and conditioning coach, came around the corner.

"Hi, Stan," I said. "What's this all about?"

"Let's go into your room," Stan replied, "Brad's had quite a shock. He insisted I

drive him here to you."

In my classroom, Brad collapsed into the first seat he came to and started crying.

I set the vase of roses down on my desk and went to my knees beside him,

putting my right arm around his shoulders and my left hand on his thigh. In one of those

bizarre moments that make you feel schizophrenic, I experienced a surge of

appreciation for the muscular young man I felt beneath my touch. At the same time I

chastised myself for feeling sexual toward this boy who was obviously in distress.

"Brad, what happened?"

124

He continued to cry. I looked up at Stan.

"The state police called the school. Brad's parents have been in a serious

accident. They're at St. Joe's Emergency."

"Mr. B., what am I gonna do?" Brad moaned. "Will you go there with me? I can't

go alone. Please, Mr. B."

"I offered to drive him but he said he wanted you," Stan said.

"Of course I will." Just as I said that, the classroom phone rang and I answered it.

"Hello?"

"Twit twit oooooo!" I heard through the receiver. Andy was giving me his loon

invitation to sex.

"Andy."

"Hey, David, did you get the flowers?" I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yes, I did. Thank you. Listen, Andy, we have a situation here. Brad Sturgis just

came in. His parents have been in an accident. It's pretty serious, I think. Meet us at St.

Joe's."

"I'm on my way."

* * * *

At the emergency room we went straight to the triage desk. The nurse on duty

looked up.

"Yes?"

Brad looked at me.

"This is Brad Sturgis. His parents have been brought here."

"And you are?" the nurse said in a bored tone, looking at me.

125

"I'm one of his teachers," I replied irritably. Why did she have to act so

impersonally?

"Name?" she asked, again in that impersonal tone.

"Brad," he said.

"No." She looked at him over the rims of her glasses. "I mean," she said as if

talking to a kindergartener, "your parents' names?"

I felt like punching her.

"Edward and Rhonda Sturgis."

Her demeanor changed immediately.

"Oh, come with me, Brad. I think you better come, too," she said, looking at me

with eyes that said more than her words.

As she was leading us to a conference room, Andy arrived. I hugged him and

told him what I knew. He said he'd wait in the lounge area.

"Why are we going in here?" Brad asked. "I want to see my mom and dad."

"Dr. Rayburn will want to see you first," said the nurse, now full of compassion

and sympathy.

This isn't good, I thought.

As we waited, Brad paced the floor. I sat, ready to intervene should it become

necessary. I was pretty sure it would be.

A man who introduced himself as Dr. Rayburn entered the room. He asked Brad

to sit down. I sat next to him.

"When can I see my mom and dad?"

"Brad, I'm terribly sorry. Your mom didn't make it."

126

With those few words I could see Brad's world start to crumble.

I stood up beside him and placed both hands on his shoulders. He shook his

head as if trying to rid his mind of the news he'd just received.

"My dad?"

Dr. Rayburn looked as if he would rather have been anywhere but here. "Your

dad is on life support. He's in critical condition."

Brad took a deep breath. "I want to be with him."

The doctor looked at me. When I nodded, he asked us to follow him.

We entered the cubical where Mr. Sturgis lay. He was on a ventilator. IVs were

running in both arms. A heart monitor beeped ominously in the background. Brad

walked over to the side of the bed and took hold of his father's hand. He stood there for

a long time. Then he said, "Dad, I love you."

Fifteen minutes later, Edward Sturgis was pronounced dead.

* * * *

"Yes, Mrs. Sturgis," I said on the phone to Brad's grandmother. "I'll take care of

Brad until you get here… No, it's no trouble. Let us know when your plane is to arrive.

Brad and I will pick you up at Metro."

Brad was sitting on the couch with Andy. Jake and Annie were doing what they

could to help, sitting with their heads on Brad's knees. Dogs know.

"What am I gonna do? I got nobody 'cept Gran. What am I gonna do?" Brad

looked pleadingly at me. He was an only child. His uncle lived in California and already

had six kids of his own.

Andy looked at me. He put his arm around the boy's shoulders. I took a deep

127

breath and blinked back tears.

"I don't wanna go home. I don't wanna be alone. Can I stay here with you?"

"You sure can, Bud," Andy said.

That night Andy and I were curled into a ball in our bed. There was no thought of

sex this night—well, not entirely, anyway. We had other, more pressing things on our

minds—namely Brad and how quickly life could change. Both of us were trying to

formulate a plan for the boy.

The door to our room quietly opened. Silhouetted in the light from the street lamp

streaming in through the window, a young man in white briefs made his way to the side

of our bed. He carried a pillow and blanket. Without a word he lay down on the trundle

with the dogs, who made room for him. I turned over and reached down. He took my

hand. Andy spooned himself behind me. United in his grief, we fell asleep.

* * * *

Mrs. Sturgis, Brad and I made our way to the parking lot at Metro. After loading

her suitcases into the car, we left the airport by the Eureka Road exit as it was less

congested. On the way back to Ann Arbor, Mrs. Sturgis—or Bertha, as she insisted I

call her, asked to be taken directly to the funeral home to make the necessary

arrangements. On the ride there and after the arrangements had been completed, we

talked about Brad's future.

"Bradley tells me he has talked with you about his staying in your home to

complete his year at school."

"Yes, Mrs—er, Bertha. He would like to continue here in the fall as well. He's a

good football player and would likely be offered a good athletic scholarship if he

128

continues to do well."

"Why would living with me in Connecticut not offer him the same opportunities?"

"Well, it's more advantageous to have a continuous program at one school. That

way his coaches know him better and can make a stronger case for his recruitment.

Sometimes switching schools means you have to give up some playing time until the

new program recognizes your talent."

"I see. And how would your wife feel about this living arrangement?"

"My wife passed away several years ago."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bennett."

"David, please." Since Bertha offered me that courtesy I thought it only right I

offer her the same.

"All right." She smiled. "David."

"All my children are grown and have left the nest. There's plenty of room."

"Well, Bradley won't be in need of financial aid, I'm sure. His father will have

provided for him adequately, and with the sale of the house I doubt an athletic

scholarship will be needed."

"Gran," Brad interrupted. "I want to play football. Even if I have enough money to

pay for college, I want to go to a good school with a respected program. That's why it's

important I stay here."

"I see," she said again. "Well, if that's what you really want?"

"Oh, Gran! It is!"

"Would I be able to see you in the summers, at least?"

"You bet! Well, I'd have to come back in August for conditioning and football

129

camp."

"I'll take this under consideration. It seems to be in your best interest to stay with

David. But just let me think about it a while longer."

"Gran, you're the best." He hugged her.

The funeral was three days later. I had been at the chapel every evening with

Brad and Bertha. Andy hadn't come due to a series of veterinary emergencies, but he

would be able to attend services that afternoon. We walked in together about a half hour

before the services were scheduled to begin.

Bertha walked up to us. "Hello," she said to Andy, extending her hand. "I don't

believe we've met. I'm Bertha Sturgis, Bradley's grandmother."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am. I'm Andy Barnes, David's partner."

"Partner?" Bertha looked at me. "I didn't realize you had a business in addition to

your teaching." She looked back at Andy. "What sort of business is it?"

"I'm a vet," Andy replied, "but David isn't my business partner. He's my life

partner."

"Life partner? Oh…I see." A strange look crossed Bertha's face. "Well, very nice

to meet you. Thank you for coming." She abruptly turned and walked away.

The services were hard to take for all of us. We all felt for Brad. As an only child

he was alone, except for his Grandmother, Andy and me. After the ceremony at the

cemetery we returned to the church, where the altar society had prepared a luncheon.

Brad sat with us but his grandmother sat with his uncle Ned and Ned's family from

California.

I began to get concerned when I didn't hear from Brad for the next two days.

130

Finally he called.

"Mr. B., you gotta come talk with Gran. She's changed her mind. She's gonna

make me go to Hartford with her. I don't know what's goin' on. She won't tell me why."

"Is she there, Brad? Let me talk to her."

"No, she's not here. Can't you come over? I don't know what changed her mind."

"Okay," I said.

After determining when Mrs. Sturgis would be home, I called Andy. He offered to

go over to the Sturgis' home with me but something told me it would be better if I went

by myself.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bennett," Mrs. Sturgis greeted me when I arrived.

No more David?

"I'm glad you came over. I need to talk with you about our change in plans for

Bradley. Bradley, please leave us alone."

"But, Gran, this is about me. I should be able to—"

"Bradley!"

When Brad left the room, we sat down. I waited for Mrs. Sturgis to begin.

"Mr. Bennett, I have decided it would not be appropriate for Bradley to stay with

you and be influenced by your aberrant lifestyle."

My hackles rose.

"I certainly would not want him to decide your way of life was something he would

be interested in."

I understood now. She hadn't been aware I was gay and in a relationship with a

man. I willed myself to remain calm.

131

"Mrs. Sturgis, being gay," I said, noticing how she shifted uncomfortably at the

word, "is not something you decide to be. It is something you are. There are those who

are not homosexual who choose to engage in homosexual behavior, but in the end it's

something determined by other factors, possibly genetic. Bradley either is gay or he

isn't."

She reacted again to the use of that term.

"His living with Andy and me wouldn't change what he is. Personally, I don't

believe Brad is gay. Living with Andy and me won't make him gay, just as living with you

won't make him straight if that's not what he is inside."

"Be that as it may, homosexuality is an abomination to the Lord. I couldn't, in

good conscience, allow Bradley to live in such an environment. While I appreciate your

offer to take him in, I will not allow it."

The discussion continued for some time, but she remained convinced I wasn't

worthy of becoming Brad's guardian. I left with many of the negative feelings I had

worked so hard to overcome rising to the surface again. Being gay was a curse. It was

something you hid deep inside at all costs. If you were found out, you were scum. You

were a target. Things were slowly changing, but it still wasn't a badge you could wear

with impunity.

Andy listened to my account of the afternoon's events. He shook his head.

"Same old, same old," he sighed. "I'm so sorry she can't see her side of things is

ridiculous. Brad is the loser here."

"We are, too, Andy; we are, too."

We found out through the school grapevine that Brad was gone.

132

The night we heard he'd left, Andy and I held each other in bed. After a time the

tightness in our chests relaxed. We were able to comfort each other through the union

of our bodies. As we drifted off to sleep, I whispered, "We're here for you if you need us,

Brad." I hadn't been allowed to say that in person. I could feel Andy nodding in

agreement.

* * * *

April arrived and with it the first few days of assurance that winter was going to

release us. March had been unusually wintery, very cold with lots of snow. For some

reason I had been drawn to the barn despite the rotten weather. I needed to be around

horses and horse people again. Some of the sadness of Meg's moving on was

retreating. Her name was still on her tack cubby door. I don't know why Ben and Janet

had left it there, but maybe they understood more than I gave them credit for. The love

of horses Meg and I shared had helped forge a deep and lasting bond between us.

Andy had gone with Ben and Janet to a spring horse show in Kentucky for the

better part of a week. I missed him when he was gone like this, even though it was often

just for a long weekend. This time I seemed to feel it more acutely.

I'd received an email from Brad, the first we'd heard from him since his

grandmother had moved him back to Connecticut. From what he'd written he seemed

okay, but not his usual light-hearted self. The part of the letter that upset me the most

was that his grandmother decided he should go to a small Catholic high school—one

which didn't have a sports program. "I guess my dream of playing college ball is over,"

he wrote.

"Shit!" That was so unfair. I didn't know what to do; I just knew I wanted to do

133

something. Playing football was so important to Brad. It was his motivation for doing

well in all areas of his life. Maybe that was why I wanted Andy at home. I wanted to talk

with him. I needed some advice as to how to answer Brad's email. I called Andy's cell.

"Thank you for calling Hawthorn Ridge Veterinary Practice. Please leave a

message after the tone. If this is an emergency, please call South Main Veterinary

Clinic." The voicemail gave the number.

"Hi, Andy, this is David. Just missing you and…" I didn't want to cause him

concern when he was away. "And, well, I was just missing you. See you soon. I love

you."

When I came out of the shower I saw the voicemail signal was flashing on our

bedroom phone.

"Hi, Hunk! I miss you, too. We're on the way home but we'll be really late, so

don't wait up. Have to settle a couple of new horses at the barn. Just keep the bed

warm for me."

I smiled. I could do that.

Wrapped in a towel, I sat down at the computer. No use getting dressed if my

next stop was bed. Hi Brad,I typed:

It was so good to hear from you. I'm really bummed by your

news about school. I know how much sports mean to you.

Just keep your chin up and hang in there. Maybe we can

figure something out.

It sounded so lame, but I didn't know what else to say. I wanted him to know I

understood. I wanted to give him hope, but didn't have a clue as to how I could help

134

him. The rest of the email was filled with news about Andy and me, school and the barn.

I signed it and sent it off, feeling very dissatisfied. The truth was I didn't know how

we could help him. His grandmother was his legal guardian.

The dogs and I went up to bed. I dropped the towel off in the upstairs bathroom,

checked out the reflection of Andy's "hunk" in the mirror and decided he needed to lose

a few pounds. Then I hit the sheets.

Sleep didn't come right away, and when it did, it didn't last long. I woke when the

dogs jumped off the trundle and headed out of the room. I smiled. Andy's home.

When he didn't come up to bed right away, I started to doze off again. I was

awakened by what sounded like jingling. What the hell…? I turned over, half sitting up,

leaning back on my elbows.

The light came on. There, leaning on his right shoulder against the doorframe,

was Andy. His arms were folded across his bare chest. Right leg crossed over the left,

he stood on one leg with the toes of the other on the floor. He had on black cowboy

boots with spurs—that was the jingling I'd heard. He also wore a black cowboy hat, a

red bandana and a red thong with some sort of insignia on the left side. He smiled. I

woofed.

"Hey, cowboy," I crooned. "Ain't this a role switcharoo. Ain't you supposed ta be

Little Beaver?"

"Well, yep, pardner. I usually is, but dang iffin' I don't like this 'ere cowboy hat of

yorin. Whaddya think?"

I laughed at his ridiculous attempt at cowboy speech.

"Good 'nuf to eat, ubetchim."

135

He chuckled, put his thumbs in the waistband of the thong and sauntered forward

to stand by the bed. I crawled to the end of the bed on all fours and took his swollen

package, still wrapped tightly in the thong, into my mouth. The taste of silk, the feel of

his throbbing cock through the fabric, the male smell of him sent me into the farthest

reaches of arousal. I wrapped my arms around his hips and enjoyed the firm roundness

of his ass cheeks. He rubbed my head and massaged my shoulders. When he reached

down and freed himself from the confines of the thong, I took him deeply into my mouth

and throat. His undulations began and he spoke my name over and over. Then he held

his breath, stiffened and fired. I drank of his maleness until he was spent.

Without hesitation he reached into the bedside drawer. I crawled to the edge of

the bed and sat. He spread the lube on my dick and turned his back to me. He slowly

sat as I guided myself into him. With a shuddering sigh, I took the full weight of this

wonderful man onto my lap. He moaned in response as he raised and lowered himself

on me with maddening slowness. I ran my hands over his chest, caressing his sensitive

nipples. My hands went down, exploring the thick pubic hair, the still erect penis, the

round, full testicles. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I thrust upward harder and

faster until I reached the edge. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I laid my head

against his back and poured my love into his body. He responded by climaxing a

second time, sending streams of his seed up onto my hands and his stomach.

Without bothering to clean up, he took off the boots and hat, kicked the thong off

his leg and we crawled into bed. He turned over after we kissed. I molded my body to

his and we slept.

In the morning I found myself lying facing away from Andy. He was spooned

136

against me with his right arm resting lightly on my abs. As I lay there I noticed the red

thong on the corner of the dogs' trundle. I reached out, picked it up and brought it to my

nose, breathing in the exquisite scent of my partner.

"Like that, do ya?" Andy asked, pressing himself more firmly against my back

and at the same time reaching down to fondle me.

"Yessiree, sure do."

As I lay enjoying the stimulation and relishing the fact we didn't have to stop as it

was Sunday morning, I felt him adjust himself, asking silent permission to enter my

private space. I raised my leg slightly to grant him entry. He was a little light on natural

lubricant, but the pain wasn't so bad I couldn't endure it for the brief time it took him to

remedy that situation.

This was heaven. He slowly manipulated me in cadence with his gentle thrusts.

There was no rush, no straining to reach orgasm, just a gentle persistent rhythm of love.

All the while I clutched the thong to my face with one hand while stroking his masculine

forearm with the other. Then with the same leisurely pace, we reached and crossed the

peak within moments of one another.

We dozed for about a half hour. I woke and looked at the thong I still held in my

hand. The insignia on the side was a black circle bisected by a feather.

"What does this stand for?" I asked him.

"Um, what?" He'd still been sleeping.

"The symbol on the thong. Does it mean anything?"

"Oh. Yeah, it does." He snuggled into my neck and kissed me. "It's the sign of the

loon. Pretty cool, huh?"

137

"More than cool." I turned over and kissed him with the special expression that

comes following nights like the one we had just spent.

We finally pried ourselves out of bed, took care of the dogs and shared a shower,

after which I insisted on wearing the red loon thong.

We were in the kitchen getting breakfast when I told him about Brad's email and

my response to it. He frowned.

"Man, this is tough. I wish there were some way to get across to Brad's gran that

her position is needlessly taking away something that means so much to him. It might

even have really negative effects on his future."

"You're right, Andy, but her stand is based on deeply rooted religious beliefs, and

those are gonna be hard to change."

At that moment the phone rang. It was Mike. "Hey, Dad. How you all doin'?"

We talked for half an hour about the family and John's travels as a flight

attendant. Then I told him about Brad's email.

Mike was quiet for a time before he said, "I wish I had some advice or a solution

to offer, but I don't know what can be done at this point."

It seemed none of us had a clue as to what we could do for Brad.

We said goodbye, but before the connection was broken, Mike added, "Oh, Dad,

I almost forgot. Peter, Angie and the boys are coming to Boston for a visit in July. Isn't

that awesome!"

"That's great. I bet you have a different itinerary for them than you had for Andy

and me when we visited last summer." I laughed.

"Yeah! Somehow I don't think P-Town or the gay bars would sit real well."

138

We said good-bye again.

After I relayed Mike's side of the conversation to Andy, I asked him what he

would like to do for the rest of our Sunday. He suggested we go out to the barn. They'd

brought a couple of new horses in and he wanted to check on them. We cleaned up

breakfast and hopped in the truck with the dogs in the back.

The barn was pretty busy since it was such a beautiful spring day. Lots of

boarders were there, riding and socializing. We made our way down the aisle and

stopped at a stall which housed a nice-looking gray thoroughbred. We continued on

until we got to the stall of a sorrel quarter horse. He had a large white blaze and four

white stockings. He was a quality horse by the look of him. He nuzzled my outstretched

hand over the doorway.

"What's his name?"

"Check out the nameplate," Andy said just as Ben and Janet walked up.

I read the name—Mr. Snazzy Showtime.

"Sure fits with all that color on him," I said. My eyes then dropped to the owner

plate beneath.

Owned by David Bennett.

I stood for a minute, trying to take it all in, when three voices sang out behind me.

"Happy Birthday!"

"Are you serious?"

"Ubetchim," was Andy's reply.

I hugged each of them in turn and then entered the stall. Snazzy came to me and

searched my pockets for a treat. I patted his red-gold neck.

139

"How about this," I said, pulling out a carrot. I shook my head. "This is just too

much."

Andy wanted me to try out Snazzy immediately, so we groomed and saddled

him. I took him to the outdoor arena in the sun. I knew immediately this was no ordinary

horse. He was light and responsive to my leg as we loped around the arena. His frame

was perfect and his gait was true, as was his cadence.

"This is some horse," I breathed. "He's too much horse for just trail ridin'."

"You're right about that," Andy said. "Trail rides aren't what I bought him for.

You're gonna show him." He broke into a broad smile.

"What? I can't…I never…" I sputtered.

"Meg told us that all the while she was showin', you would say someday you

wanted to show yourself. Well, buddy, guess what? Someday just arrived."

He pulled a showbill out of his pocket. "Your first show is in five weeks, May

14th."

* * * *

The next five weeks were spent training—not Snazzy, but me. Since Janet was a

hunter- jumper trainer and begged off taking a western horse in training, we took

Snazzy over to Grand Rapids where Holly, the trainer who had worked with Meg, had

her farm. Holly was overjoyed to see us and loved Snazzy. We hauled there and

worked for three weekends straight. In between, I rode at the barn under Andy's and

Meg's guidance. I went shopping for show clothes and a show saddle. Before I knew it,

May 14th had arrived.

I was pretty nervous when we pulled into the fairgrounds as the sun was coming

140

up. Memories of show days with Meg came crowding into my mind. I smiled through my

nerves.

As we unloaded the horse and got things set up, old friends from our show days

came up, renewed acquaintances and admired Snazzy. They wished me well when

they found out I was showing and not Meg. The strange thing was that I would be

showing with some of Meg's contemporaries, who had aged enough to be in the same

group as I was, the 30 and Over. I felt old. I was showing against people I'd known

when they were children.

The first class of the day for me was Showmanship at Halter. My hands were

shaking so much I could barely tie my tie. Andy finished it for me.

"You'll do fine," he encouraged, "just fine." His hands rested on my shoulders and

his blue eyes shone with pride.

"I don't know about that," I said.

"Know about what?" someone said.

I turned to find Meg, Sean and the baby. They had come to see me show.

Meg put the final touches on Snazzy's grooming. She applied hoof black to make

his hooves shine and Show Sheen to make his coat glow in the sun. Finally she used

tons of fly spray so he wouldn't be bothered by insects and could stand still in the ring.

Then, while I got my sports jacket and hat, she took Snazzy to the warm up area to get

him tuned in to the pattern we would perform. The tables had turned and now the groom

had become the showman.

When the rest of us arrived I was impressed with both Snazzy's responsiveness

and Meg's retention of her showing skills. She went over the pattern with me, handed

141

me the leather lead and we practiced it. Then in a kind of fog, I led Snaz down to the

entry gate.

"Hey!" Andy yelled. "Your back number!" He ran down the hill and pinned it on,

giving me an extra pat on the butt as he whispered, "Good luck."

I got in line with the other contestants. When the girl in front of me started her

pattern, I walked to the gate and set Snazzy up square. The girl finished her pattern and

trotted out. As she walked by she said, "Good luck. This pattern's a bear."

Fuck! Just what I need to hear.

The judge nodded to me. I nodded in return and we were off. In what seemed a

blink of an eye, I found myself leading Snazzy out of the arena. I couldn't remember

doing the pattern at all. I had no clue as to how I'd done. My cheering squad was all

over me when I reached the top of the small hill behind the arena.

"David, you did it!"

"Daddy, you were awesome!"

I smiled and patted Snazzy.

"Except—"

"Except?"

"You left out part of the pattern. But what you did of it, you did really well."

"What did I forget?"

"You forgot to back three steps after the 360 turn over the haunches. But really,

the rest was perfect."

That mistake meant no ribbon, of course, but no matter. I was glad it was over. I

had done it and loved it. I could hardly wait for the next class.

142

We had a long wait. The English riding classes and lunch separated the Halter

Division from the Western Division. Andy and I sat on the grandstand eating

hamburgers and watching the English riders.

"Why don't you ride in the English classes?"

"Me in those tight little breeches? No thank you."

"Hey, with that cute ass of yours, I'd love it. And besides, the word around here is

this judge rides for our team." Andy winked at me. "That butt in breeches might give you

a real advantage."

"My butt is for your eyes only, Buster." I chuckled and knocked his cowboy hat

over his face.

"More than my eyes, I hope," he retorted.

Once again Meg had taken Snazzy to warm him up. Andy and I struggled to get

me into my chaps. They were like a second skin. Andy didn't waste the opportunity to

grope me under the guise of helping me zip up the tight-fitting chaps. The usual

accentuation of my package caused by the fit of the chaps was now augmented by the

response I was having to being handled by my lover. Oh well, if the judge really was a

member of the club, this might catch his attention if my riding didn't.

"Now remember, Dad, this is Western Pleasure. Snazzy is being judged, not you.

All you have to do is guide him around the ring and stay out of his way. He's a great

horse and he'll do all the work." These were Meg's words of wisdom as I entered the

ring with the eight other riders for Western Pleasure, 30 and Over, my first riding class

of the day.

Around the ring we went, following the announcer's instructions. "Walk, jog, lope.

143

Walk and reverse. Lope, jog, walk. Halt and back four steps." This time I didn't forget to

back. How could I, when it was announced over the loud speaker?

"Bring your horses to the center of the arena facing the grandstand," came over

the speakers.

The eight of us lined up and waited for the announcement of the placings. That

was a good ride, I thought. I was kind of daydreaming when I heard, "Third place to 321,

Mr. Snazzy Showtime ridden by Dave Bennett."

I realized my number had been called, but it didn't really register until Snazzy

moved out of the line to the gate. He knew what to do even if I didn't. I patted the side of

his neck, touched my hat to the judge, jogged out of the arena and collected my yellow

ribbon from the gate attendant. Andy was more excited than I was. He insisted I pose

with the ribbon while he took a picture. I felt like a 4H-er again.

The next class was Western Horsemanship. This time the onus was on my

shoulders. I was going to be judged on how well I rode. After Meg coached me several

times through the pattern I would be riding, I headed for the arena. The first part of the

pattern went well. Then I got to a part where I had to reverse and back about ten yards.

Unfortunately the command for stopping when going forward is the same as for asking a

horse to back—you squeeze with both legs and pull back on the rein. Again the tension

of the situation got to me.

When I reached the marker where I was to stop backing, I applied the brakes as

if I were going forward. Snazzy obediently kept backing up. "Whoa," I said, applying the

brakes again. Snazzy again obediently backed farther. I was almost to the end of the

arena. Now I started yelling, "Please stop, please stop," pulling even harder on the reins

144

and squeezing with all my might. I could hear laughter from the crowd. I was starting to

sweat.

Then I recognized Meg's voice coming from the stands. "Dad, release the reins!"

I did. Snazzy stopped. The crowd applauded; I blushed. The judge laughed and

shook his head. Accentuated package or not, I wouldn't get a ribbon in this class.

The last class of the day was Trail. I could handle this one—after all, trail riding

was what I did all the time. My only question was Snaz. I'd never taken him on a trail

ride nor had I practiced any trail maneuvers with him. We would just have to see.

As I entered the trail course, Meg with Sean, who was holding the baby, and

Andy with his camera were on the rail. Snazzy and I walked to a post where I stopped

him to put on a yellow rain slicker. He stood perfectly still. He even sighed. We

proceeded placidly across a small bridge, turned left and picked up a gunnysack of cans

from a barrel. I dragged them along the ground as instructed. Snazzy didn't even look at

them. I replaced the bag on a second barrel and turned him around to back through a

maze. Backing, we knew he could do.

After turning around, we jogged through a zigzag of closely placed orange traffic

cones, turned left again at the end of the arena, loped to a log, side passed to a mailbox

and took out the mail. I showed it to the judge and then trotted over three more logs and

through some brush. We were doing well. Then we had to go through a gate. Snazzy

didn't understand my cues, so we blew that obstacle. I removed the slicker and nodded

to the judge.

The first horse show was in the books. We had two ribbons (a sixth place in Trail

to add to Snazzy's third in Western Pleasure) and a camera full of pictures.

145

* * * *

I was waiting for Andy on the bed. Tonight I was going to be the cowboy. I lay

propped up on the pillows with my hands clasped behind my head, a black cowboy hat

pushed over my eyes, wearing the red bandana and the red loon thong, which was

being stretched in anticipation of what I had planned. I also wore my boots, my legs

crossed at the ankles.

Andy came in, wrapped in a towel and drying his hair.

"Howdy thar, Beaver," I drawled.

Andy looked up from his towel, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Howdy

yourself, Red."

"I ain't properly thanked ya for that awesome hoss you buyed me. Mosey on over

here, Injun. Get outta that breech clout."

Letting the towel drop, Andy walked across the room. As he did, I watched him

lengthen, harden and rise. He climbed into bed on his knees and began massaging my

calves, my thighs, and finally my balls and cock through the fabric of the thong. He

reached underneath with his thumbs and rubbed the tender underside of my dick. Then

he lowered his mouth and continued his ministrations. My cock was positioned to the

left side of the thong with the loon insignia. Knowing that one of my hot buttons was the

tender groove just below my cock head, Andy kissed and licked that area until I was

close to bursting.

Then he backed off and moved up to my stomach, kneading and caressing with

his hands and tongue. Laying his chest against the thong, he continued to move up my

body to my chest and nipples. I squeezed his shoulders and back as he continued his

146

climb to my face. My hands then sought and found those wonderful mounds of flesh

below his waist. Once he reached his goal, his mouth covered mine and we were united

once more in that most intimate of actions.

He began to move on top of me, his prick pressing against mine. The strokes got

faster and stronger, until he breathed my name into my mouth and came. I continued to

thrust upward until I, too, released my seed. Now both the inside and the outside of the

red loon thong were soaked with the fruits of our passion.

"Thank you," I whispered into his ear.

* * * *

Our spring and summer fell into a pattern. Every other weekend or so I went to a

horse show. If Andy was able to come with me, he did, but often his veterinarian duties

kept him from this. Usually Meg was there as well. She was happy to come to the show

and act as groom. She even began talking about taking Snazzy in a couple of classes

herself, as we were in different age divisions. Besides, I never rode in the English

classes, so she could do that anytime.

Near the end of July Andy and I were sitting in the stands watching the English

riders. Once again Andy teased me about how cute my ass would look in tight

breeches. Meg was showing Snazzy in this class, Hunter Under Saddle, and I was

marveling at the versatility of my birthday gift from my guy. This horse could do

anything, it seemed. We'd been steadily improving as a team. He was winning every

Western Pleasure class, we were consistently placing in the top three in Trail, and I was

even getting a ribbon here or there in the other classes.

My cell rang.

147

"Damn!" I had already struggled, with Andy's more than willing assistance, into

my tight chaps and couldn't get to the phone. It was trapped in my jeans.

As I helplessly struggled to free the phone, accompanied by Andy's laughter, it

stopped ringing.

"They'll call back, whoever it was," Andy said, still chuckling.

Almost before he finished that sentence, his phone rang. His cell was set to play

"Call to the Post" so we could tell them apart.

"Dr. Barnes." Then he turned to me and mouthed, "Oh my God! It's Brad."

We'd heard from Brad only sporadically over the past few months. We'd faithfully

written encouraging messages of support, but his responses had been few and far

between as well as brief. Reading between the lines, we knew he was very unhappy if

not downright depressed.

"Slow down, Brad!… What did you say?… Holy shit, er—cow, I mean." Andy

looked at me apologetically. "Here, tell David what you just told me." He handed me the

phone and at the same time gave my thigh a huge squeeze.

"Hi, Brad. How are—"

"Mr. B., I'm coming home. I'm coming home!"

"Coming home? Brad, what happened? How come? Is your gran all right with

this?"

Just as Brad launched into his explanation of how this miracle had come about,

the PA system began to announce the placings for the Hunter Under Saddle class. I'd

decided since Snaz was doing so well, I'd take him into the Western Pleasure

Sweepstakes and win a bit of money as well as a ribbon, if possible. It was the next

148

class, so Meg and I would have to change saddles and bridles double quick.

"Brad, sorry, I gotta go. Tell Andy what happened and I'll call you right back. This

is great news."

I handed the phone back to Andy, forgot myself and kissed him, then let out a

whoop and ran for the entry gate as fast as a man in skin-tight chaps can. Meg was

waiting, her blue ribbon in her teeth as she uncinched Snazzy's saddle.

I made the class, although I was the last one in the gate. It was hard to

concentrate on riding as I could see Andy sitting in the stands still talking to Brad. Every

time I went around that side of the arena, he would wave and give me the thumbs up.

On the other side of the arena Meg would shout coaching instructions. I could hardly

wait to find out what was going on.

When the class was over, I picked up our third place winnings. I was sure my

transitions were slow; I just couldn't maintain my concentration. I rode out of the arena

to where Andy and Meg were standing.

"He'll be here in time for football camp and conditioning," Andy sang out.

As we went through the rest of the day, Andy filled me in on the conversation

with Brad. There were several times when I shook my head in amazement at how things

can turn around so quickly. I had tears in my eyes several times as Andy told me what

had happened to make Mrs. Sturgis reverse her stand.

The week before, Brad had answered the phone. The voice on the other end

asked to speak to Mrs. Sturgis. After the phone conversation, Brad's gran had asked

him to make sure he would not be at home that evening as they would be having

visitors to talk about things of a sensitive nature.

149

As Brad was leaving the house, the visitors arrived. They were my sons, Mike

and Peter, and a young priest. Brad greeted them and left. When he came home they

were gone and his grandmother was sitting in the living room, crying softly.

"Bradley, I've been a fool. Can you forgive me?" Brad reported her saying. She

told him she would be making arrangements to move him back to Michigan. She asked

him to call us to pick them up at the airport. He'd given the flight number and arrival time

to Andy. Brad would be home tomorrow night. He had no idea what was said to change

her mind and he didn't care. He was coming home.

That night Andy and I were celebrating Brad's return in the way we celebrated

most major—or minor, for that matter—events in our lives, by making love.

As we lay exhausted in each other's arms, I said, "Once Brad is down the hall,

you'll certainly have to control your exuberance when you come, my friend. No more

yelling 'Hallelujah' and 'Glory be'!"

He chuckled. "And you'll have to stop shouting, 'Hot Damn, it's a gusher!'" he

teased.

We both knew we were kidding, but at the same time we understood that having

a teenage boy living with us was going to change things around the house. How much it

would change things, we would have to discover in the days and weeks to come.

* * * *

The plane arrived on time. Even the baggage claim seemed to want to cooperate

in getting Brad settled in as soon as possible. As we drove home Brad babbled on and

on about football camp, how he hoped he could play either tight end or middle

linebacker, how he had put on weight enough to play either position and how he had

150

been working out at the local Bally's in Connecticut to stay in shape. He certainly

showed the effects of those workouts. Bradley the boy had left Ann Arbor; Brad the

hunk had returned.

I looked at Mrs. Sturgis in the rear view mirror. She had a smile on her face, the

kind of smile that said she knew she was making the right decision. Since Brad's house

had been sold, he and his grandmother were staying with us. We stopped for dinner

and then went on to the house.

After Mrs. Sturgis got settled, she asked if we could go for a walk. She had some

things she wanted to discuss with me. While Jake and Annie took us for that walk, Andy

and Brad continued to sort things out in his new room. A majority of his belongings had

been shipped UPS overnight and the boxes still needed to be unpacked.

"David," she began.

Hmm? I guess she's Bertha again now. I smiled.

"David, I have to apologize for the way I acted after my son's and daughter-in-

law's deaths. I've been brought to realize things are not as black and white as they were

taught to me. I am an old woman, raised in a strict religious tradition which taught that

sexual orientation such as yours, in and of itself, was cause for damnation. I also

believed exposure to that lifestyle could influence a person to become a hom— to adopt

that way of living for themselves. It was in that frame of thought that I made my decision

to move Bradley out of Ann Arbor. I truly believed it was in his best interest."

"And now?"

"And now," she continued, "I am trying to be more open-minded and to accept

that there may be more than one way of regarding these things. I'm not saying I do not

151

have my reservations about how you're living your life, but I am willing to try to see a

point of view other than the one taught to me so long ago."

I nodded and smiled.

"Also, while I do not, by any stretch of my acceptance of this living situation, wish

for Bradley to enter into this way of life, I realize now I neither have the right nor the

power to demand he be one way or the other. This, coupled with the fact I saw how

miserable he was in Hartford, made me see he would be better off here with you and

Dr. Barnes."

"Brad told us my sons Peter and Mike visited you with a priest. It was after that

visit that you changed your mind?" I'd talked with both Peter and Michael and had heard

their account of what had been said, but I wanted to hear her side of the story.

"Yes, your sons are wonderful young men. They love you dearly and it was that

love for you that initially made me stop arguing with them, keep quiet and listen. Oh yes,

the first part of our discussion was not all tulips and daisies, I can assure you." She

laughed. "When I began to see the respect they had for you and for Dr. Barnes, though,

it was like a fog lifted. I saw you for what you really are—decent men, desiring only to

do good for my grandson, not some seductive demons out to capture his innocence.

Forgive me for being so graphic, but those were my feelings at the time."

"I understand." I would have added apology accepted, but I felt it would be

somehow degrading to this brave woman who was struggling with the prejudices and

bigotry of her generation.

"Your Peter told me how he had struggled to determine his own sexuality, in light

of his brother's disclosure. He said you had unselfishly supported him, leading him in

152

the direction that was right for him, not in the direction that you might have preferred."

I wanted to interject that my preference was irrelevant in this situation, but again I

merely nodded and let her continue.

"I knew Bradley would be safe with you."

"Thank you," was all I could manage to say.

"Then Michael—ah, so handsome and so successful!—pointed out both he and

Peter had been raised in the same family, under the same influences, and they had

adopted different orientations altogether. That put to rest the last of my fears."

"And the priest?"

"Oh, yes, Father Haines. His contribution was to point out that scriptures are

open to many interpretations, and while the consensus seems to be that homo— er…"

"Homosexuality," I completed the word that seemed to be a sticking point for her.

It was as if she were afraid the word would offend me.

"Yes," she went on, "homosexuality is not part of God's plan. There is room for

other points of view about what the Bible says on the subject. He gave me several

books to read that put forward other interpretations. The credentials of the authors

seemed to be of the highest caliber, however, the real convincing argument was that

because so many priests are…homosexual, and Bradley was going to be in a school

where many priests taught, well…" She paused and gave a little laugh. "Well, I think you

get the implication." She laughed again. "As Father Haines was leaving, he turned and

added, "'By the way, I ride the bus, too.' I take it that means…?"

"Yes," I said, "I think you're right."

We finished our walk in silence, taking in the warm summer night and the singing

153

of the insects. At some point she slipped her arm in mine.

* * * *

Fall in Ann Arbor, Michigan was my favorite time of the year. Not only does it

offer some of the best weather for trail riding and horse showing, it's also football

season. Andy has suggested my love for the sport was based on the tight pants the

players wear, showing off their delicious buns to perfection. I couldn't completely argue

against that point.

This year we not only had U of M football to look forward to, but Brad playing on

the high school football team as well. He had secured a starting position as tight end.

We spent Friday nights either here in town or traveling to his games. Saturday

afternoons we spent at the U of M stadium or gathered around the tube. Sundays were

trail rides or horse shows. Brad was a good sport. He wasn't all that comfortable around

horses yet, but he insisted on trail riding with us or helping out at horse shows as a way

of saying thanks for our being at all his games and picking him up after practice.

On one of these fall evenings Andy, Brad and I returned from a trail ride as the

sun was setting and a beautiful, big, orange moon was rising on the opposite horizon—

the Harvest Moon. After we got the horses groomed and cooled out, I took Brad home

to finish homework. Then I came back to pick up Andy, who'd stayed at the barn to

check on some horses he was treating and to look over his vet appointments for the

next morning.

When I walked into the office, Andy looked up and smiled at me. That smile with

those wonderful blue eyes always did things to me nothing else in the world could.

"Come with me." Andy took my hand and led me out into the barn, which was

154

now deserted. As we walked down the aisle toward the big, sliding back door he draped

his arm over my shoulders and I put my arm around his waist. We ambled past the

stalls with the horses munching quietly on their evening hay. When we passed Snazzy,

he raised his head and nickered, asking for attention, so we stopped to pat his nose. I

straightened the championship cooler that hung on the rack attached to his door. It

read:

Mr. Snazzy Showtime

Year's End

Western Pleasure Champion

Spurs and Saddles Horse Show Circuit

When we came out the back door, Andy stopped me and pointed up into the sky.

The moon had risen and turned luminous silver, bathing all the paddocks, ponies and

trees with a soft, magical light.

"Follow me." He led me around the side of the hay shelter, then stopped, walked

inside and beckoned me to follow. The moonlight shining through the open walls of the

shelter revealed blankets, a bottle of sparkling white grape juice and two glasses. "I

wanted to celebrate the past year out here in the moonlight."

"We've got a lot to celebrate—reconciling with your father, Brad, Snazzy, your

practice."

"And us." He pulled me against him and kissed me.

We separated and stood facing each other in the moonlight. Never taking our

eyes off each other, we undressed.

Finally we stood naked before each other, our bodies reflecting the silver that

155

surrounded us. Our responses were full. We sank to our knees, embraced, then

lowered ourselves until we were lying on the blankets.

There are many ways of making love. The fun, teasing variety. The rough,

passionate, hungry kind. Then there's that love which fits a time such as the one we

were sharing.

With tender kisses and caresses we expressed to one another the love we felt

and the joy we shared in the life we'd found together. Our love crescendoed as Andy

joined with me, and then I with him, releasing in turn the essence of our maleness to be

stored and absorbed within our bodies as a seal of our commitment.

Lying in the moonlit hay shelter, snuggled under one of the blankets because the

air had lost most of the warmth of the day, we toasted each of the things we were

celebrating.

"Happy?" I asked.

"Ubetchim," he replied.

"Love me?"

"Twit twit ooooo."

We made love again.

* * * *

Walking through the snow with my companions, I began to muse about how

much I loved these early December snows, light and fluffy. The many flakes sticking

together made for what Patti had always called Christmas snow. This walk was bitter

sweet. I was happy to be out with Jake, Annie and Brad. But—

"I miss them," said the teenager beside me.

156

"Yeah, it's hard. Especially that first time the holidays come around."

He nodded in agreement.

I shared with him some of the pain I'd felt when Patti had died. How I couldn't

face decorating until Andy had come into my life.

"It seems so strange to know things are never going to be the same. Sometimes I

feel like I'm not going to be able to stand it."

"Well, you have Andy and me, as well as your grandmother. We're happy to have

you here." I tousled his blond hair, frosty with white snowflakes. "I hope we'll be able to

take some of the sadness away for you."

He smiled his bright, toothpaste ad smile, squeezed the back of my neck in

return and said, "Thanks again, Mr. B, for being there for me when I needed you. You

and Dr. B. I don't know where I'd be now if you two hadn't stepped up and taken care of

me."

We rounded the corner and headed back to the house. "Thanks for suggesting

we take a walk," I said. "It was good to get out. The snow is just right."

As we walked toward our front door, Andy's truck, the veterinarian HopCap on its

bed, pulled into the drive and he jumped out. He smiled as we walked up to him, gave

me a hug, punched Brad on the shoulder and bent to pet the dogs.

"You know," he said, looking up at the street light with the snow dancing in its

warm orange glow, "I think I hear Claudia calling. Don't you, David?"

"Claudia?" Brad said, looking from Andy to me.

"Yes, Claudia. Brad, my boy, you're about to experience one of the best of the

Bennett-Barnes family traditions. You're about to meet Claudia, our Christmas tree,"

157

Andy said with a chuckle.

"What?" Brad sounded skeptical.

Andy put his arm around Brad's shoulders and steered him toward the shed in

the yard. Jake and Annie followed behind. Andy laughed his wonderful, deep, infectious

laugh and turned to wink at me.

"You see, one night in December, a few years ago…" he began as they walked

away.

I stood with the snow falling around me, watching them as they made their way

into the backyard. Then, with a heart full of happiness and love, I followed my family

toward the celebration of one more Christmas.

Author's note: One Night in December is dedicated to the memory of Mark Allen. I never
met Mark Allen. He was a homeless man who stood at the bottom of an interstate exit
ramp holding a sign asking for help. He slept in a tent behind the interstate next to a
cemetery. He was the inspiration for this story. I wish I had met Mark. I wish I had had
the courage to do in reality what David did in the story. Mark died of exposure in
February of 2006. His tragic death was reported in the local news with a plea for the
community to do more to help others in his situation. I read the article, bowed my head,
prayed and asked for forgiveness.

The End

158

ABOUT TERRY O’REILLY

Terry O’Reilly is a retired teacher living in the Midwest. He began writing after
retirement at the urging of a friend. Since he began writing he has had several
books published. In addition to writing Terry spends his time working with animal
rescue groups, riding and showing his champion Quarter Horse.

Website: http://www.terry-oreilly.com/index.html

If you enjoyed ONE NIGHT IN DECEMBER, you might also enjoy:

159

SECOND CHANCE
By Selena Kitt

Ty has been hurt by life and has sworn off relationships, but his curiosity is
piqued by a motorcycle-riding hunk who comes through his Wal-Mart line and
buys the same thing day after day: two Slim Jims, a sixty-four count box of
crayons and Cracker Jacks. Ty’s curiosity gets the better of him and he goes out
with Jonah, but Ty’s best friend, Lucky, is sure Jonah is bad news, and it does
seem that both mens’ pasts threaten their future together. Will they find a second
chance with one another?

Warnings: This title contains m/m and anal sex.

Excerpt From SECOND CHANCE:

As the electronic front doors parted for me, I hesitated, realizing I didn’t even

know his name. He saw me and waved me over, waiting out front just like he said,

sitting on the biggest, loudest motorcycle I’d ever seen in my life. It apparently went with

the boots.

160

“Let’s walk!” I yelled over the noise of the engine, hugging my arms across my

chest. “It’s just across the street.”

“Are you serious?” He frowned. “Come on, hop on!”

“I can’t ride on that thing!” I hated admitting it, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

“How come?”

“Long story.” I took a step back from the bike as he revved the engine.

“All right.” He rode the motorcycle into a parking space and I walked over to meet

him.

“So what’s your name?” I asked as we started across the parking lot.

“Jonah,” he replied, pocketing his keys. “You’re…” He glanced over at me and

made a face. “Tybalt? Really?”

“Ty,” I corrected, rolling my eyes and reaching for my name tag. I always forgot

about it. I unpinned it and slid it into my pocket.

“Hot-headed?” he asked, putting his arm straight out in front of me to keep me

from crossing the street and I smiled at the gesture. We weren’t near an intersection,

and Denny’s was directly across, so we had to essentially jaywalk.

“Me?” I laughed, a sound that surprised me. How long had it been since I

laughed like that? “I’m more kitten than tiger.”

He gave me a quick, sideways look, but there was a bit of heat in it and I flushed,

hurrying after him across the street.

“I just thought…you know, Tybalt, from the play…” He opened the door to

Denny’s, holding it and waving me in. “So your mother was a Shakespeare fan?”

161

“You read Shakespeare?” I watched him signal the hostess. Her eyes widened

slightly and lit up when she got a look at him—not that I blamed her. The man was like a

walking god in denim and motorcycle boots. But I couldn’t help the stab of jealousy I felt

when she came over and greeted him, touching his arm, laughing and tucking her hair

behind her ear as she led us to a table.

Me, I couldn’t be so obvious. I sat across from him in the booth and hid behind

my menu until she went away with our drink orders—a Coke for me and an iced tea for

him—our hostess now doubling as waitress. I wondered bitterly if she’d traded someone

for our table.

“‘Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death

but once,’” Jonah quoted, folding his menu and sliding it behind the salt and ketchup.

I blinked at him over my menu. “Are we filming a reality TV version of Pulp

Fiction? Are you going to pull out a gun and start talking about righteousness and

furious anger?”

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Julius Caesar might have lived if he’d had

a gun.”

“You’re certainly well-read.” I raised an eyebrow at him and tried to study my

menu. The words were swimming.

“Well…” He shrugged and I was almost pleased to see him looking a little

embarrassed. “Actually, I just know that one quote. I thought it was cool back in high

school, cowards and valor and all that. I probably just said it to impress you.”

162

I didn’t say anything as the waitress set down our drinks and tried, again, to flirt

with Jonah. He smiled and nodded and told her to come back for our order and I sat

there, feeling very pleased with myself for no reason at all.

“My brother’s name is Romeo,” I admitted, peeling open my straw.

“Oh no, you’re kidding me!” Jonah grinned. “Do you have a sister named Juliet?”

“No sisters. Thank god she just had us two.” I snorted. “So is there a story behind

your name? A whale, maybe?”

He chuckled, squeezing lemon into his iced tea. “No whales. No brothers or

sisters, either. Just me.”

“Your parents?”

He shook his head and shrugged, his eyes on some distant point as he drank.

“They’re dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

The appearance of the waitress again kept me from moving past perfunctory

platitudes.

Jonah ordered. “Southwestern skillet. Extra spicy.”

And so did I. “Chocolate chip pancakes. Extra syrup.”

I think the waitress finally got the hint, because she disappeared quickly this time.

“Sweet tooth?” Jonah remarked as she left.

“I’m afraid so.” I smiled.

He appraised me slowly. “Doesn’t show.” His gaze moved heatedly, darkly down,

pausing at my mouth and I had a feeling he was wishing the table wasn’t in the way of

his assessment.

163

“Fast metabolism.” I shrugged.

“What do you weigh?” He leaned back in his seat, draping his arm across the

back of the booth. His bicep was twice the size of my own. At least. “One-fifty?”

“I’m probably half your size.”

He nodded. “Just about.”

“I could never bulk up,” I admitted, sipping my Coke. “I tried pretty hard, too, back

in college. What’s your secret?”

The waitress arrived, carrying a tray, and started setting dishes down. Jonah was

eating before she’d even set my syrup on the table.

“Well, the military helped,” Jonah went on, ignoring her altogether, his mouth

half-full of eggs. “But it’s probably mostly genetics.”

I spread butter liberally on my pancakes. “You’re in the service?”

“Was,” he corrected, waving the waitress away when she went to refill his iced

tea.

I hid a smile as I poured syrup. “Army?”

“Navy.” He swallowed, those striking blue eyes sharp again. “What about you? I

don’t imagine Wal-Mart is your chosen career path?”

“No.” I shrugged. “But it pays the bills for now.”

I waited for the next obvious question—what do you do? I didn’t want to talk

about college, a wasted engineering degree, which would somehow lead to my life with

Don and Katie. No, I really didn’t want to talk about any of it.

Instead, Jonah surprised me with a less obvious but even more shocking

question: “So, are you out?”

164

I swallowed a sticky mess of doughy chocolate chips, washing them down with a

long drink of Coke that tasted like battery acid and made my eyes water. “Mostly,” I

admitted, recovered enough to answer. “Family and friends, but…my job, not so much.

You?”

“I, uh…” He grinned, looking sheepish. “I was an equal opportunity sorta guy for

a long time. But I’ve sort of narrowed my field of interest over the years.”

I snorted, pushing the pancakes away from me. I was entirely too full already.

“Being gay in the Navy is a rather frightening stereotype.”

He winked, scooping up the last bit of his eggs with a spoon. “The Village People

just liked the uniforms.”

“Well, I don’t blame them,” I replied, winking back.

His laugh, like everything about him, was irresistible. Then he surprised me

again. “I want to take you home.”

His words completely disarmed me and my cock throbbed when I looked into his

eyes. I had to admit, I wanted it too. If it had been ten years ago, even five, I probably

would have. Instead, I said, “I have to get back to work.”

“I know. Me too,” he agreed, wiping his mouth with a napkin, his eyes never

leaving mine. “But I still want to.”

“I’d like to come home with you.” Yes. God, I wanted it, too. What harm was there

in the admission? But the silence that followed was dangerous. In that silence, we were

already on his bike, back to his place, clothes and trepidation both dispatched. During

that pause, we had already sucked and fucked our way to a blissful oblivion. I couldn’t

165

let it go on. Clearing my throat and reaching for the check, I said, “Well, I have to punch

back in…”

166

BUY THIS AND MORE TITLES AT

www.e

cessica.com

cessica’s

BLOG

www.excessica.com/blog

cessica’s

YAHOO GROUP

groups.yahoo.com/group/e

cessica/

Check out both for updates about e

cessica books, as well

as chances to win free E-Books!

Wyszukiwarka

Podobne podstrony:
One Night 2 One Night in the Ice Storm Noelle Adams
Dennis Cooper One Night in 1979 (pdf)(1)
One night in Canada
Lifetime In One Night
A Lifetime in One Night
Terry O Reilly Walking in Two Worlds
D Gillespie A Night In Tunisia (Trumpet & Piano)
Trevanian Hot Night in the City
US5 one night with you
One night stand away
Grubb, Davis Twelve Tales of Suspense and the Supernatural (One Foot in the Grave)
Olivia Cunning One Night with Sole Regret 03 Take me
A Night in tunisia
One Night Tia Wilson
One Night with Sole Regret 6 Tell Me
Olivia Cunning One Night with Sole Regret 05 Tie me
A Night in Tunisia piano
One Night 4 One Night With Her Boss Noelle Adams
The Corrs One Night

więcej podobnych podstron