Jorge Baca had just finished lunch. He sipped his coffee, watching two young men at a
table across the dining room. Their animated conversation made it blatantly obvious how
they felt about each other. Then one of them reached out and stroked the other’s face.
Jorge thought about his own young lover, saddened. He recently learned the young man
had killed himself in the mental institution where Jorge last saw him in upstate New York.
That had been a little over a year ago, just before he moved with his wife to a suburb
north of Dallas. A year. He thought by moving away from New York, it would help him get
over the affair. It had, some.
He reached up and combed his fingers back through his thick black hair. Still unsure
whether he missed New York or not, he was quite certain he missed his young man, and
certain it had been a once in a lifetime affair. If only he had someone to talk to, someone
to spend a little time with once in a while, a man he might call a friend that understood.
A waiter approached and inquired about dessert. Jorge glanced at the dessert counter.
“Bring some of that chocolate cake and more coffee.” The waiter padded away and
Jorge looked down at the paper he had picked up when he entered the restaurant.
Turning another page, he sighed and folded his hands on the table and glanced over
several columns of personal ads. Drawn to the column headed Men seeking Men, his
eyes rested on an ad that began: Happily married? Glad of it? He read the ad, then
read it a second time. Looking back across the dining room, he watched the two young
men get up from their table. When they disappeared from view, Jorge stared after them
a while before having another look at the ad.
♦ ♦ ♦
Just before noon the following Wednesday, David was in his office. He reached up to
scratch his neck. Having converted the office dress code to more casual attire, he had
not worn a tie. He had been sorting though the stack of responses he picked up at the
post box on his way to work. James would be there any minute. David planned to show
him the three replies that he considered prospects.
James was sitting across the desk thirty minutes later.
“No tie today?” he said.
“This is casual Wednesday at this office. Tomorrow, casual Thursday. After that...”
David shrugged.
“We’re changing, aren’t we? It’s affected me too. I’m not really worried about it, but I’ve
had a little trouble focusing on work lately. I could probably use another few days at
Destin Beach.”
“Let’s you and me go out to California for a few days.”
“Oh man.” James’s head fell back against the chair.
“Yeah, I know,” said David. “Well, Destin was fun, except for a little panic that first night.”
“I can’t believe we actually thought they were thinking about wife swapping.”
David’s expression turned serious. “Don’t even think that. I don’t want to risk cosmic
vibes getting loose in the atmosphere.” He leaned back and folded his fingers behind his
head. “You know, my secretary said I’m showing signs of a midlife crisis, just because
I've taken to wearing blue jeans to work. She’s wrong. My wife has that problem.”
“I wasn’t surprised Shasha came up with the hot tub idea, but I wouldn’t have expected it
of Linda.”
“Really? You think Shasha’s more adventurous?”
“When it comes to nudity she is. She loves being naked. When the girls go to camp,
she'll spend two weeks sculpting in the nude. Talk about incredibly sexy.”
“Maybe that’s where Linda gets it. She asked me to pick up a couple of porno movies a
few weeks ago. You guys ever watch those?”
“Sure.” James shifted his weight and propped his elbow on the arm of the chair. “We
watched a documentary on HBO last night about strippers. Pretty tangy stuff. I asked her
if she could get up on a stage like that. Believe it or not, she said yes. Now that did
surprise me. She thinks all women fantasize about stripping in front of a bunch of horny
men.”
“I’ll be damned! That’s interesting.” David stretched out his legs. The image of Shasha
stepping out of the hot tub was still very much alive in his mind. He shook his head. “I’ll
never be able to figure them out. Shit, I’ll never be able to figure me out.”
“Wouldn’t it be great if they knew?” A reflective comment from the file of unspoken
thoughts.
David looked at him a moment. Maybe he misunderstood what James had said. “What
are you talking about?”
“If they knew about us. If they knew and accepted it. If they were happy for us. If they
understood and our relationship was part of our lives.”
David felt a little uneasy. “It’ll never happen. I don’t even like talking about it.”
“You don’t agree?”
“Of course I agree. But they would never accept what we’re doing. Our marriage would
be over. They don’t want gay husbands. They don’t want their husbands in bed with
anyone else. That’s the way it is.”
James looked down at the top of the desk in thought. “I know. I’m just saying it’d be
nice.” He looked up. “We wouldn’t have to live with these secrets. Everything in the
open. We could make that trip to California together because they know how much we’d
enjoy it. They would know it doesn’t take away any part of our love for them.”
David sat quietly for a moment. All of this had occurred to him, too; though he had shut it
out of his mind because it was so impractical, an impossible dream.
James sensed his discomfort and changed the subject. “Speaking of our wives, has
Linda caught you off guard with any more questions about the poker game?”
David sat up and came back from his uneasy thoughts. “No, thank God. I still haven’t
figured out how to deal with that.”
“When Shasha brings it up, I’m vague and try to change the subject. It can be awkward
though. Sometimes that just makes her more curious.”
“Talk about awkward: Linda asked me if I won any money. I had to stop and think! Tell
me if that doesn’t look suspicious. But when you think about it, naturally they’re curious
about the game.”
“Well, maybe we’ll come up with something.” James lifted a hand and looked at his
fingernails. “I still haven’t gotten over Tim.”
“Then you’re okay with the way it turned out?”
“Yeah. It’s a matter of perspective. There’s you and me, and then there’s all of us.”
“He’s excited about that landscape project over in Addison.”
“I can’t get him out of my head. Even at the dinner table last night. My daughters were
talking about some event at school. I kept thinking about his beautiful body. God, the
intimacy. He knows exactly what you want to see. It’s like you want to hold him, or give
him a bath or something.”
“I know,” David agreed. “I got the impression he wants to indulge a lot more of his
fantasies.” He laughed. “I thought about hiring him to do some landscaping in the back
yard, just so I could sit by the pool and watch him work.”
James rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, and then glanced at the stack of letters on
the desk. “So how’d we do with the mail?”
“Looks like three prospects.” He handed James the photograph of a man with long, coal
black hair, attractively prominent nose, dark eyes and a look of sophisticated intelligence.
James slipped on his reading glasses and leaned forward to look at it. “No one would
ever guess this guy likes men.”
“Unless he talks with a lisp.” David looked at the letter he held in his hand. “This is his
bio: Happily married, two grown kids, six foot-one, hundred-ninety pounds, investment
banker, lives in Plano ... he’s fifty-three. His name is Jorge.”
“He’s older than he looks, if that’s a recent picture.”
“This is what he wrote: Dear Friend, I’m not quite sure how I feel in picking up a pen to
write this letter. I have glanced over these ads from time to time, I suppose because
there’s been an occasion or two I’ve read one that allowed me to dream. When a man
faces the decision of losing a wife he could not bear to live without, he’s reluctant to
take the risk. The message in your ad seemed to reflect your understanding of this.
So I am soliciting your reply, if for no other reason than the possibility of at least one
conversation with someone who understands.”
James had stared at the picture while he listened to the letter. “Yes, I like the sound of
that. It really is hard to tell, isn’t it? He’s attractive and it sounds like he’s thinking along
the same lines, but after spending five minutes with some of these guys ... who knows?”
“We’ll just have to jump in and find out. I thought Friday would be a good time to arrange
meetings with all three of them. Same agenda as usual. Sound okay?”
James handed back the picture. “That’s fine.”
“I’m shredding these pictures, too.” David handed James a second picture, a full body
pose, casual dress, a few pounds over weight with thinning hair, a well trimmed beard
and moustache, and a face with average but uncommonly personable features. He
picked up the letter. “There’s something about this guy I like.”
“He looks like a thoughtful type. Fun. Not much into staying fit, but I like the character in
his face.”
“Yeah, he struck me the same way,” said David.
“What did he say in the letter?”
“He’s in the food service industry, an entrepreneur. Let’s see ... married fourteen years,
no children, doesn’t smoke, second house in the desert, he’s forty-one. He writes: Hello
Guys, I’m writing reluctantly because I’m nervous about doing this, and I tried it once
before. That didn’t turn out very well. I am happily married and it would be hard to live
with myself if I ever hurt my wife. What can I say? I came across your ad and it stayed
with me the rest of the day. I woke up thinking about it. If I understood the message, it
made me believe that the secret I’ve carried since I was a boy can finally be shared.
You probably know how important that is to me. Please feel free to send a reply to the
post office box listed below. I can meet you anywhere in the Dallas area, anytime.”
David looked up. “His name is Jake.”
“That’s a good letter. Nothing pretentious about it and he looks like a nice guy. Guess
we’ll find out when we meet him.”
“Just one more. No picture, but a pretty good description. Five foot-nine, athletic body,
slightly gray hair, blue eyes, moustache, happily married, three grown children, lives in
north Dallas, he’s a computer systems analysts. He writes: Hello, I read your thoughtful
ad. It struck a cord. I’ve read them before, but thought they were for gays only. I’m not
gay but something is missing and now I realize there might be something out there for
me. I guess the way to find out is to meet. Please write back if this is what you’d like to
do. Peter.”
“Short and sweet,” said James.
“You want to read any of these others?”
“No.”
David began pushing the letters through the shredder, saying: “I thought we’d invite Tim to
go along.”
“Good idea.”
David glanced at the closed door when the shredder finished its work. Something was
on his mind; he seemed self-possessed and reflective. “Did you lock the door when you
came through?”
“No.”
David walked from behind the desk and on toward the door. James heard the latch and
then felt his lover’s hands come to rest on his shoulders.
“I just want a minute alone with you.” His hands ran over James’s shoulders and down
over his chest. “It’s been a long five days,” he whispered, massaging the muscle under
his shirt. “Waiting until tomorrow night seems like an eternity. We may have to consider
an interlude between Thursdays.”
James rested the back of his head against David’s belly. “I’d like to hold you for the rest
of the afternoon.”
David continued the massage. “I guess sinners aren’t allowed that kind of luxury.” He
was thinking about Monday afternoons, how they routinely workout together, thinking it
provided an option. “Has Shasha ever called you at the club?”
James thought for a moment. “Not that I can remember.”
“Neither has Linda. They both know we’re working out. They never call us there.”
“I see what you’re getting at. Change Monday workouts to an afternoon of ...”
“Maybe for a while anyway. James, I don’t know. I lay awake thinking about how you
smell. It’s like being with you has become essential. I don’t wanna go overboard, but I
don’t think spending a little time together Monday afternoons would hurt.”
James took David’s hand and pressed his palm to his lips. “I love you, David. You don’t
know how important you are to me. I loved you before, but now it’s almost painful.”
The desire in James’s voice quickened David’s breath. Whatever the reason a man
wanted another man this way didn’t matter—the want was there now. He had lain awake
the night before thinking about how much he liked lifting his legs for James and the
thought had warmed him inside, the same affect he experienced by just seeing him walk
through the door. His nostrils flared. The temptation was greater than the risk of doing it
there in the office.
♦ ♦ ♦
Thursday evening Linda joined her husband at the kitchen table after all the dinner dishes
were in the dishwasher. She had two small bowls of chocolate ice cream in her hands.
“That grilled salmon was especially good tonight,” David said, taking one of the bowls.
“That was a new seafood seasoning. I liked it, too.” She watched him take a spoonful of
ice cream. She had something on her mind. As usual, the surest way to get him to go
along with a new idea was to bring it through the back door. “Did you and James ever
talk about that night we got naked in the hot tub?”
“Something was said if I remember correctly. We’re thinking you two are turning into a
couple of nuts.” He looked at her and smiled, a spot of ice cream on his lips. “Gorgeous
nuts that is.”
She wiped the ice cream from his lip with her finger. “I am turning into a nut, and enjoying
every minute of it. Getting naked with James and Shasha for instance; it was like tossing
out some old negative psychology. You know what I mean. It was exhilarating.” She
licked some ice cream from her spoon, watching his reaction closely. “Did it bother you
when James looked at me?”
He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. This question required a politically correct
answer. “Well, not really. James is like a brother. I trust him completely. So no, it didn’t
bother me. Besides, who could blame him for looking at you?”
“Impressive! Good answer.” She had recognized for years that little pause when he felt
the need for the right response, a sure sign to be leery of his answer.
“Sometimes that ain’t easy to do,” he replied jokingly.
“Did you like looking at Shasha.”
“That’s an easy one. She may look like a goddess, but for me it’s like looking at my
sister.”
“You’re batting a thousand,” she said, her mouth full of ice cream. She was especially
interested in hearing the answer to her next question. “What did you think about her
shaved pussy?”
He swallowed a mouthful of ice cream with a gulp. Not only was her question blunt, it was
asked with a word he was not accustomed to hearing his wife say. “Uh ... it was shaved?”
She shook her head. “Now I know you’re lying. I saw you gawking.”
“Well, uh...”
“She waxes it actually.”
“Okay, I admit, I noticed.”
“Want me to try it?”
He felt an immediate stirring between his legs. “Could be interesting,” he said, feeling a
bit awkward with the conversation.
“I thought it might be fun if you waxed me,” she said, squirming a bit. “Hmm...” Her legs
tightened. “Thinking about it gives me goose bumps.”
He looked at her, amazed by her increasingly fertile imagination. Then he tried to picture
what she would look like shaved. “You’d have to show me how to do it.”
She smiled. “I’ll buy some wax tomorrow.” She watched his hand reach down to make
an adjustment, delighted by the effect she still had on him. “By the way, there’s
something else I’m curious about. It concerns James.”
He looked at her, squinting at the intrigue. “What is it?”
“Well, I thought ... I was expecting ... when Shasha pulled down his underwear, I was
expecting to see more ... you know, volume.”
David’s eyebrows lifted with stifled amusement. “You thought his dick would be bigger?”
Linda’s face flushed. “Uh huh.”
“Why? Because he’s black?”
“You know what I mean,” she shot back, realizing she had embarrassed herself. “All I’ve
ever heard since I was in high school is how well endowed black men are supposed to
be. What do you think I should’ve expected? His is no bigger than yours.”
“So you do think I have a small dick?”
“Dammit! Aren’t you listening? Not small, average, like James’s is. I don’t know why you
always complain about having the smallest dick on the block.”
“Okay. I admit I was relieved his isn’t twice as big as mine. I suffered enough of that kind
of humiliation in the high school locker room.”
“Okay then,” she said with relief. Sometimes talking to him was like going through a
ringer. She had loosened him up though. She could broach the subject she and Shasha
had been talking about. She took a bite of ice cream, organizing her train of thought, and
then looked at him for a moment. “Then you and James enjoyed skinny dipping in
Destin?”
“Yeah. Guess we’re all getting a little quirky in our old age.”
“Quirky, not weird?”
He shrugged, showing a hint of levity. “No, not weird. Well, maybe a little. It was a little
unsettling at first, but then I started to feel comfortable with it. It was fun.”
“Shasha and I had sandwiches out on the patio today. It occurred to us that our backyard
is completely secluded from the neighbors.”
David looked at her, aware at once they had been scheming.
“Okay, you don’t have to look at me that way. No one’s gonna pull your toenails out.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “I just hope what you’re coming up with isn’t worse than that.”
“It’s a way to add a little spice to our lives. So what if it’s unconventional? We had fun
that night. We want to do it again in the back yard. A week from Saturday. We were
thinking this Saturday, but Shasha remembered she had volunteered to do something for
the PTA. We thought it might be fun to spend the afternoon floating in the pool. Maybe
grill some hotdogs.”
“Honey ... have I been living up to your expectations? I mean, as your husband, have you
been satisfied with me in bed?”
Her face went blank. “Why on earth did you bring that up?”
He scratched his chin. “I’ve been thinking about it lately. I don’t want you to feel like
things have gotten a little stale.”
“David!” she said, her tone ringing exasperation. “I’m completely satisfied with our sex
life. I’m just surprised you brought it up. Cosmopolitan says men, the lugs they are, aren’t
supposed to be concerned about such things.”
“Guess I’m not like other men.”
“I’ll say. Especially in bed. If you were a better lover, and I don’t even think that’s
possible, I couldn’t live through it. Now quit changing the subject.”
“Just asking.”
“Can we get back to what we were talking about?”
“Converting the back yard into a nudist retreat?”
“A very exclusive nudist retreat. So, the question is: Will you and James go along with it?”
He looked at her a moment, enchanted by her enthusiasm. Of course she couldn’t know
that it would not be Shasha he’d be looking at, but Shasha’s husband. He wondered how
he might handle an entire afternoon of seeing James naked. “Do we have a choice?” he
asked lightly.
“Well, you said you enjoyed it, too.”
“Yes, I did. Either way, have I ever been able to deny you anything?”
She smiled and picked up the empty bowls as she stood. “They’ll be here noon,
Saturday week.” She went to the sink with the bowls, asking over her shoulder: “Still
gonna play poker tonight?”
“I was planning on it. I kinda like getting together with a group of guys like that.”
“How many show up?” she asked.
He felt a twinge of panic. Questions! I’ve got to be prepared for these questions. Shit!
How would I know how many players James might have told Shasha? “They try to get
five every week,” he said, brushing his hand down the back of his head.
“Did you know any of the others?”
“No.”
“Are they all in the landscape business?”
“I don’t remember if any of them mentioned what they did.” Were the beads of sweat
breaking out on his forehead real or imaginary? He could never predict where these
questions might lead.
“You spend all night with those guys. You don’t talk about those things?”
“It’s mostly joking around, things like that.”
She looked at him for a moment, then said: “Well, at least you have a chance to get out
and spend some time with the guys, even if you don’t know very much about them.” She
turned on the tap to rinse out the bowls. “Since you’ll be out all night, Shasha and I are
going out to see a movie. We’ll pick one you guys would hate.”
He stood and walked up behind her and placed his hands on her hips, relieved her
curiosity had abated. Leaning into the smell of her hair, he whispered: “I love you more
than you could ever know.”
♦ ♦ ♦
At five o’clock the next morning David was on the freeway heading home. The windows
of his car were closed tight. The air-conditioner was turned off. Puffing away on a cigar,
he was careful to blow the smoke on his clothes. Engulfed in a cloud of smoke, sweating
in the stuffy heat of an airtight car, he was certain Linda wouldn’t notice he had just
stepped out of the shower.
table across the dining room. Their animated conversation made it blatantly obvious how
they felt about each other. Then one of them reached out and stroked the other’s face.
Jorge thought about his own young lover, saddened. He recently learned the young man
had killed himself in the mental institution where Jorge last saw him in upstate New York.
That had been a little over a year ago, just before he moved with his wife to a suburb
north of Dallas. A year. He thought by moving away from New York, it would help him get
over the affair. It had, some.
He reached up and combed his fingers back through his thick black hair. Still unsure
whether he missed New York or not, he was quite certain he missed his young man, and
certain it had been a once in a lifetime affair. If only he had someone to talk to, someone
to spend a little time with once in a while, a man he might call a friend that understood.
A waiter approached and inquired about dessert. Jorge glanced at the dessert counter.
“Bring some of that chocolate cake and more coffee.” The waiter padded away and
Jorge looked down at the paper he had picked up when he entered the restaurant.
Turning another page, he sighed and folded his hands on the table and glanced over
several columns of personal ads. Drawn to the column headed Men seeking Men, his
eyes rested on an ad that began: Happily married? Glad of it? He read the ad, then
read it a second time. Looking back across the dining room, he watched the two young
men get up from their table. When they disappeared from view, Jorge stared after them
a while before having another look at the ad.
♦ ♦ ♦
Just before noon the following Wednesday, David was in his office. He reached up to
scratch his neck. Having converted the office dress code to more casual attire, he had
not worn a tie. He had been sorting though the stack of responses he picked up at the
post box on his way to work. James would be there any minute. David planned to show
him the three replies that he considered prospects.
James was sitting across the desk thirty minutes later.
“No tie today?” he said.
“This is casual Wednesday at this office. Tomorrow, casual Thursday. After that...”
David shrugged.
“We’re changing, aren’t we? It’s affected me too. I’m not really worried about it, but I’ve
had a little trouble focusing on work lately. I could probably use another few days at
Destin Beach.”
“Let’s you and me go out to California for a few days.”
“Oh man.” James’s head fell back against the chair.
“Yeah, I know,” said David. “Well, Destin was fun, except for a little panic that first night.”
“I can’t believe we actually thought they were thinking about wife swapping.”
David’s expression turned serious. “Don’t even think that. I don’t want to risk cosmic
vibes getting loose in the atmosphere.” He leaned back and folded his fingers behind his
head. “You know, my secretary said I’m showing signs of a midlife crisis, just because
I've taken to wearing blue jeans to work. She’s wrong. My wife has that problem.”
“I wasn’t surprised Shasha came up with the hot tub idea, but I wouldn’t have expected it
of Linda.”
“Really? You think Shasha’s more adventurous?”
“When it comes to nudity she is. She loves being naked. When the girls go to camp,
she'll spend two weeks sculpting in the nude. Talk about incredibly sexy.”
“Maybe that’s where Linda gets it. She asked me to pick up a couple of porno movies a
few weeks ago. You guys ever watch those?”
“Sure.” James shifted his weight and propped his elbow on the arm of the chair. “We
watched a documentary on HBO last night about strippers. Pretty tangy stuff. I asked her
if she could get up on a stage like that. Believe it or not, she said yes. Now that did
surprise me. She thinks all women fantasize about stripping in front of a bunch of horny
men.”
“I’ll be damned! That’s interesting.” David stretched out his legs. The image of Shasha
stepping out of the hot tub was still very much alive in his mind. He shook his head. “I’ll
never be able to figure them out. Shit, I’ll never be able to figure me out.”
“Wouldn’t it be great if they knew?” A reflective comment from the file of unspoken
thoughts.
David looked at him a moment. Maybe he misunderstood what James had said. “What
are you talking about?”
“If they knew about us. If they knew and accepted it. If they were happy for us. If they
understood and our relationship was part of our lives.”
David felt a little uneasy. “It’ll never happen. I don’t even like talking about it.”
“You don’t agree?”
“Of course I agree. But they would never accept what we’re doing. Our marriage would
be over. They don’t want gay husbands. They don’t want their husbands in bed with
anyone else. That’s the way it is.”
James looked down at the top of the desk in thought. “I know. I’m just saying it’d be
nice.” He looked up. “We wouldn’t have to live with these secrets. Everything in the
open. We could make that trip to California together because they know how much we’d
enjoy it. They would know it doesn’t take away any part of our love for them.”
David sat quietly for a moment. All of this had occurred to him, too; though he had shut it
out of his mind because it was so impractical, an impossible dream.
James sensed his discomfort and changed the subject. “Speaking of our wives, has
Linda caught you off guard with any more questions about the poker game?”
David sat up and came back from his uneasy thoughts. “No, thank God. I still haven’t
figured out how to deal with that.”
“When Shasha brings it up, I’m vague and try to change the subject. It can be awkward
though. Sometimes that just makes her more curious.”
“Talk about awkward: Linda asked me if I won any money. I had to stop and think! Tell
me if that doesn’t look suspicious. But when you think about it, naturally they’re curious
about the game.”
“Well, maybe we’ll come up with something.” James lifted a hand and looked at his
fingernails. “I still haven’t gotten over Tim.”
“Then you’re okay with the way it turned out?”
“Yeah. It’s a matter of perspective. There’s you and me, and then there’s all of us.”
“He’s excited about that landscape project over in Addison.”
“I can’t get him out of my head. Even at the dinner table last night. My daughters were
talking about some event at school. I kept thinking about his beautiful body. God, the
intimacy. He knows exactly what you want to see. It’s like you want to hold him, or give
him a bath or something.”
“I know,” David agreed. “I got the impression he wants to indulge a lot more of his
fantasies.” He laughed. “I thought about hiring him to do some landscaping in the back
yard, just so I could sit by the pool and watch him work.”
James rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, and then glanced at the stack of letters on
the desk. “So how’d we do with the mail?”
“Looks like three prospects.” He handed James the photograph of a man with long, coal
black hair, attractively prominent nose, dark eyes and a look of sophisticated intelligence.
James slipped on his reading glasses and leaned forward to look at it. “No one would
ever guess this guy likes men.”
“Unless he talks with a lisp.” David looked at the letter he held in his hand. “This is his
bio: Happily married, two grown kids, six foot-one, hundred-ninety pounds, investment
banker, lives in Plano ... he’s fifty-three. His name is Jorge.”
“He’s older than he looks, if that’s a recent picture.”
“This is what he wrote: Dear Friend, I’m not quite sure how I feel in picking up a pen to
write this letter. I have glanced over these ads from time to time, I suppose because
there’s been an occasion or two I’ve read one that allowed me to dream. When a man
faces the decision of losing a wife he could not bear to live without, he’s reluctant to
take the risk. The message in your ad seemed to reflect your understanding of this.
So I am soliciting your reply, if for no other reason than the possibility of at least one
conversation with someone who understands.”
James had stared at the picture while he listened to the letter. “Yes, I like the sound of
that. It really is hard to tell, isn’t it? He’s attractive and it sounds like he’s thinking along
the same lines, but after spending five minutes with some of these guys ... who knows?”
“We’ll just have to jump in and find out. I thought Friday would be a good time to arrange
meetings with all three of them. Same agenda as usual. Sound okay?”
James handed back the picture. “That’s fine.”
“I’m shredding these pictures, too.” David handed James a second picture, a full body
pose, casual dress, a few pounds over weight with thinning hair, a well trimmed beard
and moustache, and a face with average but uncommonly personable features. He
picked up the letter. “There’s something about this guy I like.”
“He looks like a thoughtful type. Fun. Not much into staying fit, but I like the character in
his face.”
“Yeah, he struck me the same way,” said David.
“What did he say in the letter?”
“He’s in the food service industry, an entrepreneur. Let’s see ... married fourteen years,
no children, doesn’t smoke, second house in the desert, he’s forty-one. He writes: Hello
Guys, I’m writing reluctantly because I’m nervous about doing this, and I tried it once
before. That didn’t turn out very well. I am happily married and it would be hard to live
with myself if I ever hurt my wife. What can I say? I came across your ad and it stayed
with me the rest of the day. I woke up thinking about it. If I understood the message, it
made me believe that the secret I’ve carried since I was a boy can finally be shared.
You probably know how important that is to me. Please feel free to send a reply to the
post office box listed below. I can meet you anywhere in the Dallas area, anytime.”
David looked up. “His name is Jake.”
“That’s a good letter. Nothing pretentious about it and he looks like a nice guy. Guess
we’ll find out when we meet him.”
“Just one more. No picture, but a pretty good description. Five foot-nine, athletic body,
slightly gray hair, blue eyes, moustache, happily married, three grown children, lives in
north Dallas, he’s a computer systems analysts. He writes: Hello, I read your thoughtful
ad. It struck a cord. I’ve read them before, but thought they were for gays only. I’m not
gay but something is missing and now I realize there might be something out there for
me. I guess the way to find out is to meet. Please write back if this is what you’d like to
do. Peter.”
“Short and sweet,” said James.
“You want to read any of these others?”
“No.”
David began pushing the letters through the shredder, saying: “I thought we’d invite Tim to
go along.”
“Good idea.”
David glanced at the closed door when the shredder finished its work. Something was
on his mind; he seemed self-possessed and reflective. “Did you lock the door when you
came through?”
“No.”
David walked from behind the desk and on toward the door. James heard the latch and
then felt his lover’s hands come to rest on his shoulders.
“I just want a minute alone with you.” His hands ran over James’s shoulders and down
over his chest. “It’s been a long five days,” he whispered, massaging the muscle under
his shirt. “Waiting until tomorrow night seems like an eternity. We may have to consider
an interlude between Thursdays.”
James rested the back of his head against David’s belly. “I’d like to hold you for the rest
of the afternoon.”
David continued the massage. “I guess sinners aren’t allowed that kind of luxury.” He
was thinking about Monday afternoons, how they routinely workout together, thinking it
provided an option. “Has Shasha ever called you at the club?”
James thought for a moment. “Not that I can remember.”
“Neither has Linda. They both know we’re working out. They never call us there.”
“I see what you’re getting at. Change Monday workouts to an afternoon of ...”
“Maybe for a while anyway. James, I don’t know. I lay awake thinking about how you
smell. It’s like being with you has become essential. I don’t wanna go overboard, but I
don’t think spending a little time together Monday afternoons would hurt.”
James took David’s hand and pressed his palm to his lips. “I love you, David. You don’t
know how important you are to me. I loved you before, but now it’s almost painful.”
The desire in James’s voice quickened David’s breath. Whatever the reason a man
wanted another man this way didn’t matter—the want was there now. He had lain awake
the night before thinking about how much he liked lifting his legs for James and the
thought had warmed him inside, the same affect he experienced by just seeing him walk
through the door. His nostrils flared. The temptation was greater than the risk of doing it
there in the office.
♦ ♦ ♦
Thursday evening Linda joined her husband at the kitchen table after all the dinner dishes
were in the dishwasher. She had two small bowls of chocolate ice cream in her hands.
“That grilled salmon was especially good tonight,” David said, taking one of the bowls.
“That was a new seafood seasoning. I liked it, too.” She watched him take a spoonful of
ice cream. She had something on her mind. As usual, the surest way to get him to go
along with a new idea was to bring it through the back door. “Did you and James ever
talk about that night we got naked in the hot tub?”
“Something was said if I remember correctly. We’re thinking you two are turning into a
couple of nuts.” He looked at her and smiled, a spot of ice cream on his lips. “Gorgeous
nuts that is.”
She wiped the ice cream from his lip with her finger. “I am turning into a nut, and enjoying
every minute of it. Getting naked with James and Shasha for instance; it was like tossing
out some old negative psychology. You know what I mean. It was exhilarating.” She
licked some ice cream from her spoon, watching his reaction closely. “Did it bother you
when James looked at me?”
He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. This question required a politically correct
answer. “Well, not really. James is like a brother. I trust him completely. So no, it didn’t
bother me. Besides, who could blame him for looking at you?”
“Impressive! Good answer.” She had recognized for years that little pause when he felt
the need for the right response, a sure sign to be leery of his answer.
“Sometimes that ain’t easy to do,” he replied jokingly.
“Did you like looking at Shasha.”
“That’s an easy one. She may look like a goddess, but for me it’s like looking at my
sister.”
“You’re batting a thousand,” she said, her mouth full of ice cream. She was especially
interested in hearing the answer to her next question. “What did you think about her
shaved pussy?”
He swallowed a mouthful of ice cream with a gulp. Not only was her question blunt, it was
asked with a word he was not accustomed to hearing his wife say. “Uh ... it was shaved?”
She shook her head. “Now I know you’re lying. I saw you gawking.”
“Well, uh...”
“She waxes it actually.”
“Okay, I admit, I noticed.”
“Want me to try it?”
He felt an immediate stirring between his legs. “Could be interesting,” he said, feeling a
bit awkward with the conversation.
“I thought it might be fun if you waxed me,” she said, squirming a bit. “Hmm...” Her legs
tightened. “Thinking about it gives me goose bumps.”
He looked at her, amazed by her increasingly fertile imagination. Then he tried to picture
what she would look like shaved. “You’d have to show me how to do it.”
She smiled. “I’ll buy some wax tomorrow.” She watched his hand reach down to make
an adjustment, delighted by the effect she still had on him. “By the way, there’s
something else I’m curious about. It concerns James.”
He looked at her, squinting at the intrigue. “What is it?”
“Well, I thought ... I was expecting ... when Shasha pulled down his underwear, I was
expecting to see more ... you know, volume.”
David’s eyebrows lifted with stifled amusement. “You thought his dick would be bigger?”
Linda’s face flushed. “Uh huh.”
“Why? Because he’s black?”
“You know what I mean,” she shot back, realizing she had embarrassed herself. “All I’ve
ever heard since I was in high school is how well endowed black men are supposed to
be. What do you think I should’ve expected? His is no bigger than yours.”
“So you do think I have a small dick?”
“Dammit! Aren’t you listening? Not small, average, like James’s is. I don’t know why you
always complain about having the smallest dick on the block.”
“Okay. I admit I was relieved his isn’t twice as big as mine. I suffered enough of that kind
of humiliation in the high school locker room.”
“Okay then,” she said with relief. Sometimes talking to him was like going through a
ringer. She had loosened him up though. She could broach the subject she and Shasha
had been talking about. She took a bite of ice cream, organizing her train of thought, and
then looked at him for a moment. “Then you and James enjoyed skinny dipping in
Destin?”
“Yeah. Guess we’re all getting a little quirky in our old age.”
“Quirky, not weird?”
He shrugged, showing a hint of levity. “No, not weird. Well, maybe a little. It was a little
unsettling at first, but then I started to feel comfortable with it. It was fun.”
“Shasha and I had sandwiches out on the patio today. It occurred to us that our backyard
is completely secluded from the neighbors.”
David looked at her, aware at once they had been scheming.
“Okay, you don’t have to look at me that way. No one’s gonna pull your toenails out.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “I just hope what you’re coming up with isn’t worse than that.”
“It’s a way to add a little spice to our lives. So what if it’s unconventional? We had fun
that night. We want to do it again in the back yard. A week from Saturday. We were
thinking this Saturday, but Shasha remembered she had volunteered to do something for
the PTA. We thought it might be fun to spend the afternoon floating in the pool. Maybe
grill some hotdogs.”
“Honey ... have I been living up to your expectations? I mean, as your husband, have you
been satisfied with me in bed?”
Her face went blank. “Why on earth did you bring that up?”
He scratched his chin. “I’ve been thinking about it lately. I don’t want you to feel like
things have gotten a little stale.”
“David!” she said, her tone ringing exasperation. “I’m completely satisfied with our sex
life. I’m just surprised you brought it up. Cosmopolitan says men, the lugs they are, aren’t
supposed to be concerned about such things.”
“Guess I’m not like other men.”
“I’ll say. Especially in bed. If you were a better lover, and I don’t even think that’s
possible, I couldn’t live through it. Now quit changing the subject.”
“Just asking.”
“Can we get back to what we were talking about?”
“Converting the back yard into a nudist retreat?”
“A very exclusive nudist retreat. So, the question is: Will you and James go along with it?”
He looked at her a moment, enchanted by her enthusiasm. Of course she couldn’t know
that it would not be Shasha he’d be looking at, but Shasha’s husband. He wondered how
he might handle an entire afternoon of seeing James naked. “Do we have a choice?” he
asked lightly.
“Well, you said you enjoyed it, too.”
“Yes, I did. Either way, have I ever been able to deny you anything?”
She smiled and picked up the empty bowls as she stood. “They’ll be here noon,
Saturday week.” She went to the sink with the bowls, asking over her shoulder: “Still
gonna play poker tonight?”
“I was planning on it. I kinda like getting together with a group of guys like that.”
“How many show up?” she asked.
He felt a twinge of panic. Questions! I’ve got to be prepared for these questions. Shit!
How would I know how many players James might have told Shasha? “They try to get
five every week,” he said, brushing his hand down the back of his head.
“Did you know any of the others?”
“No.”
“Are they all in the landscape business?”
“I don’t remember if any of them mentioned what they did.” Were the beads of sweat
breaking out on his forehead real or imaginary? He could never predict where these
questions might lead.
“You spend all night with those guys. You don’t talk about those things?”
“It’s mostly joking around, things like that.”
She looked at him for a moment, then said: “Well, at least you have a chance to get out
and spend some time with the guys, even if you don’t know very much about them.” She
turned on the tap to rinse out the bowls. “Since you’ll be out all night, Shasha and I are
going out to see a movie. We’ll pick one you guys would hate.”
He stood and walked up behind her and placed his hands on her hips, relieved her
curiosity had abated. Leaning into the smell of her hair, he whispered: “I love you more
than you could ever know.”
♦ ♦ ♦
At five o’clock the next morning David was on the freeway heading home. The windows
of his car were closed tight. The air-conditioner was turned off. Puffing away on a cigar,
he was careful to blow the smoke on his clothes. Engulfed in a cloud of smoke, sweating
in the stuffy heat of an airtight car, he was certain Linda wouldn’t notice he had just
stepped out of the shower.
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| Chapter 9 |
