Please Wait for Me

I kneeled behind him and covered the back of his thighs and his calves. His round backside was right in my face, and as I put pressure on his legs, he arched his back for balance. When he did, his backside raised toward me. It was all I could do not to bite it.

I moved back to the front. I kneeled in front of him and started at his thighs. His board shorts were too thin to hide that he was enjoying my hands on him. I turned my head from what stood before me. If I hadn't, I'd have put my mouth on him, through the shorts. I worked his calves and the tops of his feet.

"There," I said, standing back up and breathing for the first time in what seemed like forever.

"My turn," he answered, taking the tube from me. "But you're too tall. You have to lay down."

"Lie down," I corrected.

"You have to lie down."

I did, on my stomach first. Luke attacked me from above, his hands working over my neck and back and sides. As he reached, I could feel him hard against the top of my head.

He worked each of my legs from the top also. He stood beside me as he did, his hip pressing into mine. He moved below me to do my calves.

"Over," he said, his voice cracking.

"Okay," I said. "But, I'm, uh, boned up."

"That's okay," he said. "I am, too."

I rolled over, reached inside my shorts, and pulled myself straight up so I was as inconspicuous as I could be. I kept my eyes closed so I could resist the urge to look at Luke's erection.

Luke started at my feet. He was meticulous. His fingers were between my toes and then on the dorsal. I tingled all over as he moved up my legs, over my stomach, through my chest and neck, and to my face. He was back above me, and his thumbs were gently protecting my eyelids, my nose, even my lips. When he was finished, I was simultaneously totally relaxed and completely anxious.

I raised up and shielded my eyes as I heard Luke break the water. I looked down and saw that I was sticking out of the top of my shorts. "Cussword," I thought to myself. "I hope he didn't see that."

I joined Luke in the pool. "I really enjoyed that," I said.

"I could tell."

"Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it. I've seen plenty. I'm in the Army, remember. We share showers."

"Do you masturbate?"

"Not in the showers."

"No, I mean generally. You said your parents were strict. I'm sure they taught you it was sinful."

"They did. Actually, they taught me the only time it was okay to touch yourself was when you're peeing or washing. Otherwise, your privates are off-Iimits."

"There's no way a teenaged boy can not masturbate."

"I have, but I try not to. I was kind of a late bloomer. My first time, I shot all over. I thought there was something wrong, but I didn't have anyone to talk to about it. I finally asked another kid at school. He couldn't believe I had just started. He had been at it for years."

"It's not sinful."

"I know. But, now, there's not just much opportunity. Some guys don't care if everyone knows they're doin' it. I ain't . . . I'm not that way. I can't do it if I'm not alone. And, I don't like doin' it in a stall. It seems weird to do it where you leave your waste."

"You ready to try?" I asked, changing the subject, but without Luke knowing it.

"Try what?" he asked, blanching and then turning red.

"The breast stroke. That is what you're learning today, right?"

"Oh, right. I wasn't sure what you meant."

"That's what I meant," I answered. It really was, at least a little.

Luke did not take to the breast stroke the way he had to freestyle. He kept taking on mouthfulls of water and coming up choking and coughing. When he finally got it, we had been going at it for hours, and we were both frustrated and tired.

"Let's go out tonight."

"To a restaurant?"

"Yes."

"Awesome. I've hardly ever done that."

"Well, then we'll make an evening of it. We can get dressed up and make it grand."

"I don't really have any dress up clothes."

"We'll go get some. You need them anyway."

"You've already done enough."

"I'm going to do more than enough. I'm a rich man, Guppy. Not because of anything I did. Because my grandfather was smart and because my wife died. Let me do this. I really want to."

"Okay, but only if you really want to," he answered, mocking me.

"I do."

I put on a red shirt, black slacks, and black loafers. I then took Luke to Brooks Brothers. We got him a pair of light khakis made with silk, two striped shirts, a belt, and loafers. When he showed me the ensemble, I made a couple of adjustments.

"Let's switch to plain front slacks," I told the salesman. "And, let's go with lighter shoes and a lighter belt."

"The pleated slacks provide more room in the front," he answered. I knew why.

"Plain front," I insisted.

After we checked out, we ducked into the salon next door. "I need a little product for my friend," I said to Ty, who had been cutting my hair until I quit cutting it. Ty responded by looking at me in disbelief.

"Jammer, that mess of a head of yours needs some love. Come see me. We'll just trim it up a bit. You'll keep your beautiful curls, but lose some of the mess."

"I will. Soon. I promise. But, until then, can you dab some product in Luke's hair, part it on the left, and comb it back?"

"Sure thing," he answered. In no time, Luke looked like he was out of a catalog.

"I feel like a mannequin," he said, as we walked back to my car.

"You look like a model."

We dined at J. Gilbert's. We were gluttonous. Luke was more thrilled by the fact they served him wine than he was by the new threads and the glorious steak. Every time they refilled his glass, he held his breath.

"Keep that up, and you'll give yourself away."

"I'll be 21 soon."

"Act like you are now if you want the Opus One to keep coming."

"It's good."

Not too good for you, I thought to myself. Not too good for you.

Chapter Nine

Back at home, we again sat at opposite ends of the couch and watched The Wire on Netflix. I wondered if Luke knew what "Netflix and Chill" meant. I almost asked him, but thought better of it. Instead, I grabbed his foot, moved it to my lap, and started massaging it.

"That feels really good."

"It's supposed to."

"Here," he said, giving me the other one. "Do this one, too."

I rubbed them both at the same time. As far as feet go, they weren't bad. He didn't seem to pay attention when he clipped the nails, but they otherwise seemed well cared for.

When I was finished, he said "your turn" and patted his lap. I moved my left foot into his lap.

"The tops of your feet are suprisingly hairy."

"I'm like a hobbit," I answered.

"No, you'd have to have long nails if you were a hobbit. You don't. Do you get pedicures?"

"No. I'm just a little obsessive about things."

"Is this okay?" he asked, wondering if he was doing it right.

"It's more than okay," I answered. Because they were his, the hands on my feet felt wondrous.

I fell asleep with my feet in his lap. When I woke up, he, too, was asleep. I shook him awake and told him it was time for bed. I wondered if he would follow me into my room, but he didn't. He headed toward the stairs.

"Guppy?" I stopped him.

"Yeah?"

"Can I hug you good-night?"

"Sure."

I moved toward him and stepped into his open arms. I ran my hands up and down his back before taking hold of his head and pressing it into my chest. He ran his hands up and down my back as I did.

"Thank you for today," I said. "I had a great day."

"Me, too."

"Sleep well."

"You, too."

I closed my door behind me, but I didn't lock it. I slipped out of my boxer briefs and slipped into my bed. I tickled my chest and sides and then my groin. My own hand did not feel nearly as good on my body as Luke's had. Still, I got hard, so I stroked myself thinking of Luke's hands on my chest and sides as he covered me with sunscreen. I imagined that, when I felt his groin against the top of my head, I hadn't lain still, but had instead arched my neck and buried my face between his legs. I came thinking of my mouth and tongue on him through the board shorts, his hardness leaking into the fabric.

I felt like a teenager doing it, but I texted Luke from directly beneath him. "It was good to be touched. It's what I miss most with J gone."

I was asleep when Luke texted me back. When I awoke to pee at just past 4, I checked my phone. Only two minutes after my text, Luke had responded. "I didn't know what I was missing. Now I do, and I'm missing it."

I thought the text might have been an invitation, but I wasn't sure. I typed "I'm just downstairs." I hovered my thumb over send and then chickened out and didn't hit it. I thought it was too forward.

Instead, I sat up in my bed and brooded over what, if anything, I should do. The more time I spent with Luke, the more attracted I was to him. But, it was also the less time I had with him. I looked at the clock. It was 5:15. Luke's flight was in 51 hours. I started to panic. Our clock was ticking, and I did'nt want to spend any more of the little time we had left asleep than we had to. I decided to wake him up. I was drunk with excitement by the time I got to the top of the stairs.

Luke's door was open, so I walked in. He was asleep on his back, the sheet pulled up to his navel, and his left leg again sticking out. I sat down on the edge of the bed and marveled at him. The sun was on its way up, so the room was light enough that I could see he was again sleeping with a slight smile on his face.

I gave in to my temptation and started tracing from mole to mole, connecting the dots that littered his face, his neck, his shoulders, and his chest. As I started retracing the pattern, Luke stirred, opened his eyes, and smiled at me.

"What're you doing?"

"Waking you up."

"What time is it?"

"It's early. But I needed to see you. We're running out of time."

"Will you do what you were doing?" he suprised me by asking. "With your finger?

"Sure." I resumed the pattern. As I did, Luke pulled the sheet away, so I had full access to all of his moles. I touched every one I could find. I couldn't help but notice he was enjoying it. When I had traced and re-traced the front of him, he rolled over and let me trace and re-trace the back of him.

I don't know how long I took, but I was aching by the time Luke said, "I need to pee." He slid out of bed, going out of his way to keep his back to me. I knew what he was hiding. If I had tried to move, I'd have had to hide the same thing.

"Guppy," I called out. "I'm going downstairs to get breakfast."

"Great. I'll be right down."

*****

"Jesus," he said, as he came into the kitchen. "It's only 6. I'm on a break from the military, ya know."

"I know. But, our time together is short. We can't sleep it away. There's too much I don't know."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I don't know."

"What's for breakfast?"

"I'm making Bailey's French Toast."

"I love French Toast."

"Then you'll love this."

I added Baileys to the milk and eggs and soaked the bread before frying it. We ate on the porch. I could not help but touch Luke. I put my left hand over his right. I put my feet on top of his.

When we were finished, he started to clean up. "I'll clean up after you're gone," I said, shocking my obsessive self. "Let's swim."

As we had the day before, we coated each other with sunscreen. As I covered Luke, I couldn't control myself.

"You're beautiful," I said.

"Thank you, but that sounds weird. Boys ain't, uh, aren't beautiful. Girls are."

"I disagree. Some boys -- like you -- are beautiful.. And some girls aren't."

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"Maybe, but your're objectively beautiful."

"I've got big ears. Like Nestor, the Long Eared Donkey."

"Actually, studies show people with large ears are perceived as more attractive than people with small ears. You were blessed with large ears. And a great smile," I added, touching my hand to his lips. "And lively eyes," I added, touching my thumbs to his eyelids.

"Can you stop?"

"Sure, but I don't want to."

"I'm not good at compliments. I ain't . . . Dammit . . . I haven't gotten many . . . I haven't received many, and they make me feel weird."

"Then I'll stop. But, I don't want to. You should know how beautiful you are."

"Well, I suppose a lot of people should know a lot of things they don't."

"I suppose that's true," I answered, marveling at the nuggets of wisdom he tended to drop.

We spent the morning in the water working on Luke's strokes. He was probably ready for another one, but I didn't want the frustration that accompanied the teaching of the breast stroke to return.

Late in the morning, we were on opposite sides of a raft, our chins on our hands as we talked. "Hey, Guppy, want to play a game?"

"Sure."

"My wife and I used to play. We called it 'Stare Into Your Eyes.'"

"Is that all there is to it?"

"Yes, but it's harder than it seems. It's really hard, actually."

It turns out it wasn't. I called time, we started, and neither of us looked away. We just stared, neither of us talking. I don't know about Luke, but I was barely breathing.

And staring.

On and on and on.

Luke smiled, grinning as broadly as he had at Gate E5 only a few days -- that at times seemed like a few years and at others seemed like a few seconds -- before. I smiled, too. Luke started laughing, so I started laughing, too. Neither of us looked away.

"How long do we do this?" he asked.

"Supposedly, as long as we can."

"Seems like it could be forever."

"I know. It's not supposed to be this easy."

"On the count of three, let's go under and do it," he said.

"Okay," I counted. "One . . . Two . . . Three."

Down we went, eyes open, hair drifting and loose. I reached my hands out to Luke, and he grabbed them. I pulled him in, and we were forehead to forehead, still staring. Before we ran out of air, we both started laughing again. We laughed so hard we had to surface.

We laughed harder once we surfaced. We climbed out of the pool and collapsed on our backs on the deck, our feet still in the water. As we caught our breath, I reached over and took Luke's hand in mine. I squeezed, and he squeezed back.

I don't know why Luke was laughing. I was laughing because I realized I could love again and was, in fact, doing so. Somehow, some way, I had fallen in love with Luke. And, he had fallen in love with me. I was sure of it.

The "Stare Into Your Eyes" game had told me. It had taken a long time for me and Jess to get where Luke and I were the first time we played. We never looked away.

Chapter Ten

We spent the afternoon in the pool, re-playing "Stare Into Your Eyes," frolicking, and otherwise feeling the contours of new love. We smiled so wide I thought our faces would crack. We laughed so hard I feared the neighbors might call the police.

By the time we were finished with dinner, I was exhausted. We were on the porch, not talking, just sitting beside each other, holding both hands, his head on my shoulder, and my head on his.

"James?"

"Yeah."

"Can we go to bed?"

"Together?"

"Together."

Luke stood up, took my hand, and walked me to my room. Watching each other, we undressed to our underwear and climbed into bed. Luke was on his right side, his right hand near his face. I was on my left side, and I took his right hand in mine. I held it for awhile, listening to each of us breathe.

"Luke, should we talk about what's happening?" I asked, disrupting the peace.

"I dunno," he answered. "Seems pretty obvious to me."

"Are you okay with this?"

"I think so. I dunno. I've never really been in this situation. But, I've wanted to be, ever since I can remember."

"Tell me what you remember," I urged.

"Well, I guess the first thing I remember was I just never fit in with the other boys in school. I didn't like what they liked. I didn't talke about what they talked about. When the Harry Potter movies came out, all the boys in school went on and on about Hermione. I much preferred Harry. Then, High School Musical came out, and the same thing happened. The boys were all about Gabriella and what they'd like to do to her. I didn't want to do anything to her. I'd have picked Troy over her any day. Everything I wanted to do was to Troy. Since, it's been Tony in Jarhead, almost every guy in the Hunger Games, and now Max from Fury Road. It ain't never been a girl. I suspect it never will be."

"Did you ever tell anyone?"

"No way. It'd have been all over for me. I was already on the outside lookin' in. I'd have been on the outside of the outside, lookin' over the folks who were lookin' in."

"You're regressing. Use your Gs. And avoid 'ain't.' Who were your letters to?"

"Oh, just some other boy."

"Did you ever meet him?"

"No. He lived in Idaho. I found him online at the library. We wrote back and forth. It was all 'here's me' at first, but then it got to be a little more. He wrote me a letter about what he wanted to do when we finally met. I loved that letter. I could see it all as I read it. I wrote him back and told him what I wanted to do when we finally met. I could see that, too. I was just guessin', though, as I didn't really know what two boys could do together. My mom found his letter and sent me away, I got this tattoo, blah blah blah, here I am."

"Did you ever hear from him again?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe. He may've answered my letter. If he did, it wasn't in our house when I got back from White Plains. And, all evidence of him was gone, including his address."

"Did you ever try to find him again?" I asked, a little heartbroken.

"No. I should've. But I didn't. I was afraid of getting caught and throwed out."

"Thrown out."

"Right. Thrown out."

I traced over the backwards words on his chest with my forefinger. He tensed as I did.

"I was kind of that way," I said. "I knew from very young I was different from the other boys. I thought girls were hot and got excited when we got our hands on a Penthouse or a Playboy. But, I also thought boys were hot and got excited when my friend Jason changed in front of me or stayed over in his underwear. I finally asked if he got excited the same way, and he said 'no' and 'it wasn't normal.' It felt normal to me, though."

"Did you stay friends?" he asked. I wanted to say "yes," it didn't matter, he was cool. But, I couldn't lie.

"Kind of, but not like we were. He definitely stopped staying over and stopped asking me to stay over. We only hung out in school."

"How'd you wind up married?"

"Pretty easy. I thought if I could be with girls, then I should. It was just easier, and I didn't want a harder life. And, Jess was awesome. I think I'd have loved her no matter what."

"I don't think I could ever be with a girl. I just don't think it'd work for me. I can't even imagine it. It's never done nothing' for me."

"Anything for me . . . . Some people are like that. Some people are just the opposite. And, some people are closer to the middle."

"Like you?" he asked, raising one eyebrow at me.

"Yes, like me," I answered. "I was happily married to a woman. And I could be happily married to a man."

"Do you think you'll ever get married again?"

"To anyone or to a woman?"

"To a woman?"

"No. I don't know why, but I don't think I could do that to Jess. It would seem disloyal."

"This doesn't?" he asked, taking my tracing hand into his and holding it firmly against his smooth, muscled chest.

"Not yet."

"Do you think she knew?"

"No. We worked for me, and I'm pretty convincing when I need to be."

"I ain't," he said. "I can't trick anyone. I never learned to."

"Come on, Luke. It's 'I'm not,' not 'I aint'. And, of course you're not. You seem utterly without guile."