The Pitcher

My heart bounced every time my cell phone rang. I was disappointed each time. It was never Cal.

A month into the breakup, I had given up. I was back to working and reading. I was not hopeless, but I was not hopeful either.

The ringing of my telephone woke me in the middle of the night. It was Cal. I hesitated and then answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Matty Joe," he slurred. "It's Calvin. You first knew me as Jake." It was clear he was drunk.

I quickly wondered how I should play it. I just as quickly decided to play it straight.

"Hey, Cal. I liked you as Jake. I liked you better as Cal."

"I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

"Can we stop missing each other? I hate the breakup."

"Me, too."

"I'm drunk."

"I know."

"This isn't because I'm drunk."

"Okay."

"Can I call you tomorrow?"

"You can call me whenever you want."

It took him too long. When he finally called around three, I was certain he wouldn't. But for the evidence on my phone, I may have convinced myself the drunken call had been a dream.

"We have a homestand starting Friday. Why don't you come to Kansas City for the weekend?"

"Really?"

"Really."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Don't toy with me."

"I'm doing the best I can, Matty Joe."

"I thought you said you'd never been with a guy in KC."

"I haven't. I'm a road dog only."

"What changed?"

"You. . . . Me. . . . You changed me."

"Alright. I'll look at flights. I can't leave until after work on Friday, so I'll have to come straight to the ballpark."

"You should go straight to my apartment. I'll leave a key for you. I'll meet you there right after the game."

"I look forward to it."

"Me, too."

I was giddy as I flew toward Kansas City. I couldn't wait to see Cal. I was fifteen again, waiting for Billy Jack to knock on my window.

I took a Thrifty car from KCI to the Plaza and made my way to Cal's apartment, using the key he had left under the mat in front of the front door.

The apartment was stunning. It had a sweeping view of the Plaza. It was in an old building, but it was thoroughly modern and updated. He had decorated it sparsely, with white furniture and walls and glass and steel tables.

I snooped around. I found a balcony. It was mid-September, and the weather was starting toward Fall. I walked onto the balcony, looked over the edge, and collapsed onto the chaise lounge. I star gazed and waited for Cal. At some point, I dozed off. I awoke to Cal shaking my shoulder. He was in black jeans and a white v-necked t-shirt. He was barefooted. His hair was longer than it had been the month before, when he was in Chicago. He looked like Jim Morrison.

"Come inside," he said. "My neighbors can see this balcony."

I hadn't even thought of that. I grabbed my glass and followed him in.

"We have to be smart, Matty Joe. My neighbors can't know you're here. It makes no sense for me to have a man as an overnight guest. I have a one-bedroom apartment, and I have enough money to stash a guest in a nearby hotel."

"I'm sorry, Cal. I didn't even think about it. I saw the balcony, the night was beautiful, and I decided to enjoy it."

"It's not a big deal. I doubt anyone noticed you. We just have to be smart. . . . Let's start over. . . . Hi, Matthias," he said, moving toward me. "I'm glad to see you."

"Hi Calvin. I'm glad to see you, too."

His lips touched mine. I felt a jolt. I knew I was lost. I felt every wall I had built to protect myself crumbling away, exposing me.

"I'd love to sit on the balcony with you, but I don't think it's smart."

"I have a better idea," I answered. "I snooped a little. I think we should share that monstrous tub in your bathroom."

We did. We listened to music and talked. He drank vodka. I drank wine. We were at opposite ends of the tub. Our legs were entwined. The lights were low. Comfort filled the space between us.

"What's the plan for the weekend?" I asked.

"Well, I'm free tomorrow until 3:30. I thought we could hang out here until I have to leave. Sunday, I have to leave around 9. We have a 12:30 game. I'll be back in time to make you dinner. When's your flight?"

"Monday morning, if that's okay."

"It's more than okay. It's awesome. It gives us an extra night."

The weekend passed in a blur. After our bath, we had sex on the living room floor. I was on my back, my hands bound above my head by a striped, silk tie. I begged him and talked dirty to him. He pulled my hair and bit me hard enough to leave marks on my chest and shoulders.

The moonlight silhouetted his body as he moved over me. I watched his shadow on the wall. When he was close, he took me in his hand so we could crash through at the same time. When we were finished, he collapsed onto me, his sweat slicked torso smearing my fluid between us. I licked the sweat off his neck. It was both salty and sweet.

"I really like fucking you," he said.

"I really like when you fuck me," I answered.

"It's so much different than fucking a woman."

I must have made a face.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay."

"It's not. It was rude. I want to try again."

"Okay."

"I really like being inside of you."

"I really like when you are inside of me."

He lowered his mouth to mine. "I really like kissing you."

"I really when you kiss me."

We cleaned ourselves and moved to the bed. It was down filled and covered by a down filled comforter. It was like being on a cloud. We fell asleep facing each other, holding hands, our foreheads pressed together.

When I awoke the next morning, Cal's room was a tomb, and the apartment smelled of bacon and coffee. I pulled my briefs on and joined Cal in the kitchen. He was in a robe. He handed me an orange juice and said "Good morning, Sleepy Head."

"Speaking of heads, what's up with yours?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your hair. It's long. I meant to ask about it last night."

"We're on the edge of the playoff hunt. We're not cutting our hair unless and until we are eliminated."

"I like it. It makes you look like Jim Morrison."

"Wow. That's a compliment. I'll take it."

"How long have you been up?"

"I'm not. See?" he asked, opening his robe to show me he was not hard.

"Be serious for a minute."

"About an hour. It's late."

"What time is it?"

"10?"

"Really?"

"Yep. I have built in blackouts in my room. No light comes in."

"Since you've been up, maybe you should get up," I said, taking his softness in my hand.

"Slow down. Let's eat first."

"I can't," I answered, lowering myself in front of him. "I want you to get hard in my mouth."

"Well. . . . I don't think I've ever done that."

He did that morning. "No need to savor this," I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm hungry."

"I can tell," he answered, moving back into my mouth. "Give me a minute. I'll get there."

He did, thrusting in and out of my mouth as I held his balls and he held my head. As I sucked him, he hummed "come on, baby, light my fire," presumably as a result of the Jim Morrison compliment.

When he finished, I swallowed and kept at it him until he went soft in my mouth.

"Jesus," he said, sitting down on the floor. "You're really good at that."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Well . . . . It's better than being bad at it."

"It's hard to be bad at it."

"Trust me, it's not. There are a lot of people - both female and male - who don't know shit about sucking a dick."

"I was good from the get go."

"Me, too."

After breakfast, we went back to bed. As he had said the night before, we had all morning.

After pleasuring me with his mouth again, Cal told me he wanted to make love to me. It was a stark change in language from "I want to fuck you."

I lay in front of him, my right leg over my left. We watched in the mirror as he took me from behind.

"Are you looking at me or yourself?" I asked.

"Is it weird to admit I'm looking at both?"

"No, just a little vain."

"I'm vainglorious," he said, smiling at me in the mirror.

"Come here," I said, rolling onto my back and pulling him over me. We again watched in the mirror as he took me missionary style. I had never watched myself get laid. It was awesome.

When he was finished, he pulled the comforter up over us and suggested a nap. It was not yet noon. He hit a button and the room went black. I was quickly asleep, the darkness and the sex conspiring against me.

When I awoke, it was two, and Cal was sitting next to me reading.

"Do you want to come to the game tonight?"

"Will you pitch?"

"No. I pitched last night. Three innings. I may have an inning in me tomorrow, but not tonight. I'll dress, but I won't throw."

"Then I'll hang back here. I like your apartment. I'll watch television and nap. I need to reclaim some of my energy. I have a long night ahead of me."

"Not too long. Remember, I have to leave early tomorrow."

I rolled into him, put my head on his left hip, and pulled his soft dick into my mouth again. I tickled his balls while I gently kissed and licked his glans.

"This is a nice way to read," he said.

I didn't answer. I just kept doing what I was doing as I tried to decoct his pivot from "fuck" to "make love." I must have dozed back off, as I awoke to whispers of "Matty" and a large hand in my mussed hair.

"Hey. I have to get up and get going. It's 2:45. I have to be at the park by 3:30. I need to hit the shower and go. I'm cutting it really close."

"Skip the shower."

"I can't. I smell of sex."

I rolled off his hip, and he rolled off the bed. "The shower's big enough for two," he said, tickling my foot as he passed by.

I joined him in the shower. While we kissed under the water, we used conditioner and our hands to pleasure each other. I could feel his orgasm in my mouth as we kissed and he grunted. I'm sure he could feel the same as I did.

"What does Kate think you're doing this weekend" I asked, as we wiped ourselves dry.

"Nothing. She's with her family on their Colorado ranch. It's a horse weekend."

*****

After the game, we were again in the tub together, this time with my back to his chest and his legs around mine.

"Will you move to Kansas City if I ask you to?"

"Will you ask me to if I say yes?"

"I will."

"Then yes."

And so, just like that, it was settled. While Cal was at the ballpark the next day, I was in the business office of his building, renting a a studio apartment - sight unseen - on one of the lower floors. We had planned the move that morning, before either of us could freak out. I'd move into Cal's building, so we could have easy access to each other. I'd move as soon as I could, whether or not I had found a job. I'd move only clothes. Cal would furnish the apartment, before I got there.

We didn't talk about what my move would mean for us. We didn't talk about what my move would mean for Cal and Kate. We were on a cliff. We jumped off without confirming the depth of the water below. We'd be lucky not to hit bottom.

My staff bawled and bawled. My nurse pointed out that Cal Lowden lived in Kansas City. I played ignorant, wondering aloud about whom she was talking. "The guy you met at the Drake," she said.

"Oh, yeah," I pretended to remember. She looked at me like she knew what she could not know.

When my two week notice was up, I filled my car with my clothes and drove south on 55, west on 36, and then south again on 35. I called Cal when I was in Liberty, Missouri.

"I'm almost there."

"I'm waiting for you in your apartment. It looks great, by the way."

He was right. In contrast to his apartment, he had decorated mine in a very comfortable style. The hardwoods were dark and covered here and there by luxuriously thick rugs. The kitchen table and chairs were bright red. The couch and chairs were overstuffed. The coffee and end tables were cherry. It was exactly how I'd have decorated it if I had. Without knowing me, he knew me.

"Come with me," he said. "I know you had a long drive, but we need to christen this place."

He led me to the "bedroom." The bed was identical to his, only the comforter - like the kitchen table - was bright red. So was the dresser.

"What's with all the red?"

"You were a Cardinals fan when you were a kid. I thought you'd like it."

I did. A lot.

"But you're a Royal."

"This is about you, not me."

As that response echoed in my head, I knew I loved him. I wanted to tell him, but I was too afraid.

He pulled me into him, kissed me, and started undressing me. "Now, this is about me," he said.

"Slow down," I said. "I just spent eight hours in the car. I'm going to be really sweaty. I need to shower."

"Don't you dare. I like the smell of a man. I love our locker room after a game. I want you just as you are. I want to bury my face in your sweaty crotch. I want to lick the drive off of you."

I allowed him to push me backward onto the bed. I allowed him to bury his face in my armpits and then in my crotch. I allowed him to tongue my sweaty balls and then to take my sweaty dick into his mouth. I allowed him to finger my ass as he sucked me.

The dual sensations overwhelmed me. I came, the strength of my orgasm surprising even me.

"Do you need to sleep?" he asked, pressing his erection against me to signal he, in fact, did not. I did, but I wanted him more than I wanted to sleep.

"Do you want to bind me?"

"Desperately."

"I'm good with that."

He did. He had stocked the end tables. He cuffed my left hand, slipped the cuff through the headboard, and cuffed my right hand. He slipped a sleeping mask over my eyes, blinding me.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want to feel you inside of me."

"Be more graphic."

"I want to feel your cock inside of me. I want to feel your sweaty body shake and shiver with pleasure as you fuck me into oblivion."

"Beg me to fuck you."

"All I thought about during my drive was your beautiful body moving over me and your hard cock inside of me. I need you to fuck me. I need to watch you fuck me. Take this mask off."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

He uncuffed my hands and pulled me from the bed. He re-bound my hands around the leg of the bed.

"Why am I on the floor?"

"So you won't know where I am," he said, adding noise cancelling headphones over my ears. I now could not hear or see anything. All I could do was feel.

His tongue on the underside of my arm.

In my armpit.

On my neck.

Between my toes.

On the arch of my foot.

On my taint.

Rimming me.

He rolled me over. The cuffs twisted and tightened around my wrists. I protested to no avail. His sweaty body covered mine. His hard dick slid between my sweaty thighs. He bit the back of my neck harder than I expected. He started into me. I was desperate for him. I thrilled as he slid all the way in. I couldn't tell if he was wearing a condom and, in that moment, I didn't care. I cared only about being as full of him as I could be.

He fucked me slowly. I could feel his sweat dripping onto and pooling in my back.

I loved every minute he was inside of me. I love feeling connected . . . full.

When he pulled out, I felt alone and empty.

"Where are you?" I asked. There was no answer.

I rolled over to relieve the pain in my wrists. I felt as vulnerable as I ever had, blind and deaf and naked, alone and bound.

"Cal?" I said, loudly and plaintively. "Cal! I need you to finish what you started."

I felt hands on my ankles, pushing my feet toward my ass. I raised my legs. I felt Cal pressing at me and then entering me. I felt his lips on mine.

He fucked me slowly again. It was more than I could take. The infrequent, slight touch of his abdomen against the underside of my dick sent me over the edge. I came all over my chest and stomach.

Cal sped up. I could tell he was close. I clenched around him as hard as I could. I felt his body tense and then release. He twitched inside of me before collapsing onto me, his sweat mixing with my cum.

He pulled the headphones off and whispered "I can't believe we get to do this whenever we want" in my ear.

"Me, either," I answered.

After he freed me and we showered, we climbed into bed together. "You're going to ruin me for everyone else," he said, smiling at me.

"That's the plan," I answered.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Can we get tested and stop using condoms?"

I wondered if we had already. He was definitely wearing a condom after he flipped me over. But, I did not know that he was when he had me on my stomach. I didn't want to ask. I'd have been too angry if he said yes, and I didn't want to be angry at him.

"I don't know," I answered. "I think I got really lucky. I don't want to press my luck. I'm pretty committed to safe sex. And, you're going to keep fucking Kate, so getting tested won't be meaningful. Getting tested matters only if you're being monogamous."

"I really hate condoms," he whined. "What if I wear condoms with her? Would that work?"

"How are you going to explain that?"

"She knows I'm paranoid about getting pregnant."

"So paranoid that all of the sudden you think you need an extra layer of protection?"

"We could try it."

"Can we not decide this now? I'm tired, and it's starting to hurt my head."

I was and it was. But, the hurting of my head overwhelmed my tiredness.

I'm a brooder. I don't have difficulty making decisions, but I have difficulty owning the decisions I've made. I spent the entire night wondering how I had agreed to move to Kansas City without forcing him to resolve the Kate issue. I feared I had made a terrible mistake.

The next morning, Cal was as fresh as a baby's bottom. I was spent. The energy I expended fretting dwarfed the energy I had expended greeting Cal and my new apartment.

"What's wrong?"

"I didn't sleep well."

"To be expected. New apartment and new city."

"That's not it."

"What is it?"

"I think I got too far over my skis. I didn't think this through. You're the only person I know in Kansas City. You are closeted and have a girlfriend. I don't even have a job. I've spent a decade protecting myself from leaps of faith like this. Yet, here I am. As you said, new apartment and new city and fucked up scenario."

"I want to tell you something. It may help."

"If it's about challenges or opportunities or testing mettle, please don't. I don't think I can take a life lecture at this point."

"It's not a life lecture. It's an admission. . . . I love you, Matthias Joseph. A lot. I have for awhile. I should have told you sooner. But I wanted you to go first. Because I didn't want you to say it just because I said it."

"I wouldn't have. I would have said it only if I felt it. And I do. A lot. I have for awhile. Loved you, that is."

"Does that make your anxiety better?"

"Yes. And worse."

"How so?"

"It makes it harder for me to take Kate."

"Kate shouldn't be an issue for you. You know that. She's a disguise. That's all."

"You make love to her."

"I fuck her. But only because I have to. I make love to you. Because I want to. It's all I want. I think of you when I'm fucking her. I don't think of her when I'm making love to you."

"Still, it all seems a little skeevish to me. At some level, I feel bad for her. I know what it's like to love you. It's thrilling. It must be awful to love you and not feel that love coming back."

"I try to make her feel loved."

"Which makes it all seem a little skeevish. Because it's all a big fucking lie. You know it. She doesn't."

"Come here," he said, pulling me into him. "It's your first day in Kansas City. It's not the time to fret."

"I know. But I feel like I should have done a little more fretting before my first day in Kansas City. Like I said, I feel like I am out over my skis, out of control."

"It sounds like a blast to me."

"We're different people."