Lightning In a Bottle

When we weren't having sex, we were reading to each other or asleep. We were exhausted by the time the airline returned my bag.

I wanted this to go on and on, but the end was bearing down on us. John would graduate and move to D.C., leaving me behind in Chicago. He had predicted he'd be in St. Louis to study for the bar, so I took a job with another St. Louis firm for my 2L summer. Vi ruined everything, landing a post-doctorate fellowship in Denver. John had to decide between Denver and St. Louis for the summer, and Vi made the decision for him with an ultimatum. I should have made one of my own.

So, I spent the summer in a city I did not want to be in, only because I thought John would be there with me. Instead, he was in Denver, getting ready to move to D.C.

We saw each other little that summer. The bar exam consumed him, and Vi gave him little rope. I felt the first glimmers of anxiety.

I hid my anxiety in Freddie. He, too, was in St. Louis for the summer, and we hung out almost every night. Our apartments were only blocks away from each other, and we routinely played 9 holes or tennis after work, or ran around Forest Park, or went to the ballpark, or hung out in Busch's Grove.

One Saturday, we spent the day at Forest Park. When it was time to go home, Freddie walked past his apartment to mine. Something was amiss, but I was not sure what.

Once inside my apartment, Freddie decided he needed a shower. He left the door open. My shower curtain was clear plastic, so I could see him in the medicine cabinet mirror. He was a work of art. He ran and swam almost every day, so there was not an ounce of body fat on his granola body. His chest and stomach were covered in curly brown hair, as was his crotch. His back and ass were hairless. His legs were thick and muscled, especially his calves.

"Don't stare," he admonished, shocking me to my senses. "If you like what you see, then come on in."

I stripped and joined Freddie in the shower.

"You were right. You have a really nice dick," he said.

"Thank you. So, do you."

"Yeah, but you knew that already. This is my first time seeing yours. It's too big for you."

I put my hands on his sides and asked what he was doing.

"Just having a little fun," he said.

I moved my hands to his chest. I loved the hair on his front. I lowered my face to his nipple and started to lick and suck it. I worked my way down his body and took his dick in my mouth kneeling in the shower. Freddie grabbed my head and held it still. He drove his dick in and out of my mouth, fucking my face until his legs were trembling and he came down my throat.

The next time I saw Freddie, I asked why he had invited me into the shower. His answer was simple. "I was horny, and you give great head." And, that was that.

*****

At the end of the summer, John and I took a week long trip to San Blas, Mexico. San Blas is a tiny Mexican town on the Pacific side. It felt like the edge of the earth. I didn't speak Spanish, so I was totally reliant on John.

San Blas was sick with mosquitoes. We had to use Deet when we got out of the shower. If you missed a spot in your ear, they swarmed to it. It was gross.

But, we were where nobody knew our name. We spent our days drinking Pacifico and body surfing. We spent our evenings drinking Pacifico and body surfing. We had a ridiculous amount of sex. I may have been wrong, but it seemed like it got better each and every time.

One day, I jacked John in the ocean, his cum floating to the surface. I scooped it in my hand and sucked it through my teeth.

One night, John fucked me on the beach. We were careless and crazy, as we could easily have spent our lives in a Mexican prison if we had been discovered. But, the risk added to the delight, and we both had explosive orgasms that left us exhausted and laughing.

The penultimate day of our trip, we went fishing. We were in a tiny boat with no life preservers when I hooked a sailfish. Our "guide" immediately yelled "sailfeeesh," hit the throttle, and took out across the water, chasing the fish out into the ocean. "Let heeem ruuuun," he yelled, as we flew. We were slapping against the water and laughing hard to suppress the real fear we were going to capsize and die. It took almost an hour, but we got the sailfish to the boat, unhooked him, and set him free. The landing of him had been spectacular. He'd dive deep, reverse course, and fly out of the water, shaking himself violently, trying to free himself of the hook.

That night, I decided to tell John about Freddie. I felt guilty, even though I was not sure I should. I told John I had blown him twice.

"Well," he said, "I cannot say I am happy about either one."

"I know. I feel like shit. But, I can't undo it."

"I think it might make me feel better if you told tell every detail," he said, looking at me slyly out of the corner of his eye.

"You're a pig," I said.

"Agreed. Now, tell me every detail." I did, leaving out nothing. John started jacking his dick as I talked. I took over, jacking him as I described how Freddie pounded my face in the shower. As I finished, so did John, spraying his chest and stomach. I straddled him and licked all I could off him.

*****

As we flew back to his clerkship and my third year, I asked "is this sustainable?"

"I do not know, Carrot. I hope so, but I do not know."

"I don't think I want what you want," I responded.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"I don't want to be your plaything. I want to be your everything."

"You are my everything," he said.

"I'm not. Vi lurks. Your desire to be married lurks. Your desire to be hidden lurks."

We held hands as we flew. We were leaving paradise. But, paradise was in our past. We would soon need to face cold, hard facts.

Part Ten

John headed to D.C. and his clerkship. I stayed in Chicago for my final year of law school. We had talked about me spending my the year at Georgetown so we could be together, but John ultimately let concerns about Vi and "what everyone would think" thwart the plan. He wanted to keep everything hidden. But, things need sun to grow, and there was no sun where we were hiding.

Looking back, I think we should have cared less and made sure I was a Hoya so we could be together. I think things may have turned out differently if we had.

We muddled through the first semester. I visited D.C. when I could, and John made trips back to Chicago when he could. But, that was not as often as I wanted, as he also had to visit Vi in Denver.

When we were together, things were awesome. When we were apart, things were difficult. Staying connected through landlines was difficult, especially when we were both busy and rarely had the same amount of time at the same time. When we talked, it was usually very late, when we should have been asleep.

I'd have been lost if not for Freddie, who took me in when Georgetown fell through. Other than John, Freddie was my best friend, my non-romantic life partner. And, he was tremendously solid, never emotional, erratic, or irrational. When I was ready to leap, he pulled me back from the edge.

John did not like that I was living with Freddie. But, he really had no room to complain.

Freddie satisfied the emotional hole John's absence left. We were always together: we took the same classes, ran together (Freddie was a fitness freak and got me into it), worked out together, and lived together. We even started adopting each other's mannerisms and inflections. Maggie called us "the Tweedles," after Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb and Dee. I insisted Freddie was Dumb and started calling him Dummie. He, in turn, started calling me Dee.

He also satisfied - somewhat - the physical hole John's absence left. I am physically needy - I would later learn physical touch is my love language - and Freddie did not mind satisfying that need. He let me rest my head on his lap. He let me play with his chest hair as we talked in his bed or mine. He let me run my fingers through his hair when he rested his head on my lap. We were physical, but not sexual. We hadn't been since the shower incident the summer before.

Still, many nights, we fell asleep in the same bed, talking, or with Freddie reading to me. Almost always, my hand was on his chest.

The first time, I was next to him, talking and looking at his chest. My look must have been longing, as he offered, "You can touch me, if you want. I like being touched."

I tentatively reached over, letting my hand fall gently to his chest. I stroked his nipple and played with his chest hair. When Freddie tucked his hands behind his head, I also played with the hair in his arm pit.

My recurring attention to Freddie's chest often aroused Black Bart. But, Freddie and I never acknowledged it. He never asked me for anything, and I never offered.

*****

John got only a brief break for Christmas, and - according to him - he "had" to spend it with Vi and her family. I spent mine depressed, thinking of the ghost of Christmas past.

The second semester of your 3L year is a bore. Everything is decided. Even if you're competitive, there's really nothing left to fight for. I was coasting along.

I spent Spring Break in D.C. with John. Physically, we were fine. Actually, we were better than fine. We wore each other out, sexing all weekend and every morning before he left for work and every night when we got home. We couldn't get enough of each other. We branched out. We used food. We tried every position we could get to work.

John always asked if anything was going on with Freddie. I always answered truthfully.

The last full day of the trip, John seemed particularly blue. I was on the couch with my head in his lap, and I asked a question I wasn't sure I wanted the answer to, namely what he was thinking.

"I am struggling with where I am going," he said. "I have always imagined that I would get married and have children and live the perfect life. Now, I do not know if that is what I want at all. I love you so much."

"You can't have it all," I said.

"I know," he answered. "You have made that clear."

"Even if I hadn't," I answered, "you couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to anyone but you."

"I know."

John started tickling my face. "Sometimes, I want to grab you, steal away to an island, and live happily ever after."

"We don't have to go to an island to live happily ever after."

"I think for me we do."

"We don't. Together, we can have the life you imagine. I'll go wherever you go. We can be together. We can adopt children. We can make a family and a life together."

"I do not think we can."

"I know we can."

"Mace, I am not gay," he protested. "You may be, but I cannot be. I just cannot."

I knew he was kidding himself. But, I also knew he was not persuadable on the topic.

We did not make love that night. I couldn't be sure, but I think John was crying as I fell asleep.

He sobbed at the airport the next day when it was time for me to board. I hugged him good-bye. He held me tight, then kissed me, for everyone to see. I fretted the entire flight home. I thought the kiss may have been good-bye. I feared I knew what was coming, and I desperately wanted to avoid it. I just didn't know how.

It didn't take long. The phone woke me up at 2 a.m. that night. I reached for it, filled with dread. I knew who was going to be on the other end before I picked it up.

"Hello."

"Hey, Mace."

"Hey, Josie."

Neither of us said anything for a long time. We just listened to each other breathe.

"What's going on?" I finally asked. "It's 2 a.m."

"3 a.m. here," he corrected me.

"Regardless, what's going on?"

"I just needed to hear your voice."

We both paused. I thought I heard tears. I bucked up.

"John, are you calling to tell me it's over?" I asked.

"I do not want it to be."

"Then don't let it be. Don't do this."

"I think I have to. I am straddling two different worlds, and I am not living in either one. When I am with Vi, I want you. When I am with you, I feel shitty about Vi."

"You're making a mistake," I responded.

"You are probably right."

"I'm definitely right," I said. I started to cry myself. Neither of us said anything. We just listened to each other cry.

We couldn't stay on the phone forever. I broke the silence. "I love you, Josie. Always and forever."

"I love you, too, Mace. Always and forever."

"Be happy, John."

"This is not good-bye," John offered. "We will still be friends . . . . great friends."

"I doubt it. That never works. And, you won't move on if you don't let go. Neither will I. You'll always want to come back, and I'll always want you to come back."

"Can we talk about this?"

"Not now," I sobbed. "I need to go." It felt wrought and over-dramatic, but it was the most wrought and dramatic moment of my life, so I ended the call with a "Good bye, LOML." I hung up before John could say anything else.

It was not long before I heard a knock on my door. "Come in."

"I thought I should check on you," Freddie asked. "Good news never comes at 2 a.m."

"It's not. John called it off. We're done."

Freddie came over and sat on the edge of my bed. I cried into my pillow as he stroked my hair. I continued to cry as I felt him move in beside me. I rolled into him, put my face in his chest, and cried. We wrapped me up, and I fell asleep.

When I woke up, Freddie was still holding me. I kissed his chest and felt for Black Bart. I was needy, and I wanted to be cleansed of the call with John.

"Not like this," Freddie said, turning his face from mine and grabbing my wrist. "But, you can tell me what happened."

I told him about the weekend. And, how I knew the ringing phone was John doing what he'd been too cowardly to do hours before in person.

"Mace," Freddie said. "He can't help who he is. He was raised a certain way. You were never going to change that."

"I thought I could. I almost forced him to choose. I was sure I'd win."

"I was sure you'd lose. People like John live their lives in chains. They may break a few, but there are too many for them to break free. They can wander only so far off the path of expectation. People like us have no chains. We get to choose our path and then walk down it."

"We're not so alike, you and me."

"We are, more than you think. We grew up different, but neither of us were raised with expectations about who we are and who we would be. Your parents couldn't set them. Mine just wouldn't."

I pushed Freddie onto his back and put my cheek on his chest. "Read to me," I said. He did, grabbing my book off the nightstand and picking up where he'd left off the last time. He stroked my hair as he did.

*****

Sadness can be consuming. It was for me. I ached at the thought of John. When you're older, you realize things come and go, doors close and windows open, and challenges can be opportunities. When you're 22, you realize no such thing. When you're 22 and losing your first love, you realize nothing.

Freddie told me all the right things, but I wasn't open to them. I wallowed. I ate and slept little. I rarely went to class. I spent my days consuming the war, learning the ins and outs of scud missiles and watching Bill Redeker duck into bunkers while Arthur Kent - the Scud Stud - ignored the sirens and kept reporting.

I spent my nights curled up next to Freddie. I didn't even pretend I was going to sleep in my own bed. I climbed in next to Freddie, put my hand or my head on his chest, and sulked.

Freddie tolerated my intrusion into his bed and my affection for him. He let me tickle his chest and stomach and thighs while he read to me. He never asked for more.

John telephoned me a couple of times, which made things worse. The sound of his voice wounded me. Today, I could screen his calls, as my mobile would show the number. In 1992, I had no such technology, so I got caught answering the wrong call.

The Saturday before graduation, the Bunch went out to dinner to celebrate surviving being scared to death, worked to death, and bored to death, the three phases of law school. We all drank too much. We got emotional and nostalgic.

When the night ended, I joined Freddie in his bed. As we talked with my head on his chest, he tickled my back, and I tickled his thighs, each circle a little higher than the last. Black Bart was at full attention.

"Fuck it," he said, raising his hips and slipping his boxers off. I kept tickling higher, and Freddie spread his legs to give me full access to his junk. I added his balls to my circles and then his dick. I slid down his stomach and took the head of his dick in my mouth as I continued to tickle his balls. Freddie put his hand in my hair and encouraged me to take more of him, but I resisted. I wanted to work my way down slowly.

"Come on, Max," Freddie pleaded. "Suck my dick. It's getting to be too much."

I raised up on my left arm and took him down my throat. I loved this angle, as it allowed my to go deeper than any other. I slowly worked Black Bart in and out of my throat. Freddie started moving his hips in rhythm with me. He used his hand in my hair to control my pace.

"Oh my God," he said. "That feels so good."

Without thinking, I slicked my finger and started playing with Freddie's ass. To my surprise, he opened and raised his legs. I pushed my finger in to the first knuckle. I took Black Bart to the base and then pushed my finger in to the second knuckle. I made small circles around Freddie's head with my tongue and in his ass with my finger. He pulled me up and forced me back down. I could tell he was getting close. I took him all the way down a couple more times before he tensed, bucked, and filled my throat, gasping as he did. I kept going, milking every drop I could out of him. When he was done, I laid my head down on his stomach, letting Black Bart go soft in my mouth.

"Jesus Christ, Max. That was the best blow job I've ever gotten. That was fucking incredible."

I didn't say anything back. I fell asleep on his stomach.

When I woke up, I was on my right side, my head on the pillow, and Freddie tucked behind me. Black Bart was at attention, pressing against my ass. I reached around, expecting to feel him through his boxers. He was still naked. I took Black Bart in my hand and started swirling my thumb around the tip.

"What are you doing," Freddie asked into the back of my head.

"I want you to fuck me," I said. "One time."

I thought I'd have to convince him, but I didn't. "Take off your underwear," Freddie urged, rolling onto his left side to fish a condom and lube out of the bedside table. I did, and moved to my back.

Freddie pushed in slowly. Once he had worked himself all the way in, he slid easily in and out, slowly working me into a sweat. He had been kneeling at my ass. When he moved over me, he went in even deeper, and he hit my prostate. I tingled all over.

"Right there, yes, right there."

"Oh, Max," he panted. "I'm about to nut."

Freddie, soaked with sweat, pulled out, yanked the condom off, and sprayed all over my stomach and chest. He soaked me. I was shocked when he dabbed some off my chest and put it in his mouth.

"I guess it is a little sweet," he said, grinning.

I grabbed my dick, intending to add my own cum to his. "I'll do that," he said, taking hold of my dick. I was surprised and titillated and shot hard, hitting the pillow and my face.

When we were cleaned up, Freddie offered that he had never shot as far as I had.

"I get pretty good distance," I said. "By the way, why didn't you finish inside me?"

"I don't like to come in a condom," he said. "And, I love spraying people with cum. It turns me on."

Part Eleven

Graduation day was celebratory for the Bunch. We met each other's families, took gobs of pictures, listened to boring speeches, and walked across the stage as our names were called.