dontravis.com
blog post #322
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TO MY READERS: The “Contact” section has disappeared from my Web Site, so I
have no way of reading or responding to your comments. I’ve tried all the
corrective suggestions by “experts” to no avail. Please make any comments
directly to my personal email, dontravis21@gmail.com, until this situation is corrected. Thanks.
Last week, Rob got the seemingly homophobic Carlos to try
out the sauna in Rob’s apartment house. After a relaxing shower and a brew,
they fell asleep in chairs. Rob roused his guest and put him to bed in a guest
room. What in the world happens next?
*****
THE DANCER
We ate a good breakfast before
Carlos left he next morning. He worked half-day shifts on Saturdays and Mondays.
I casually suggested I was free that evening, but Carlos had other plans. However,
he agreed to try the sauna again Monday.
When Carlos arrived straight
from work Monday afternoon, we ate a shrimp salad for lunch and hit the sauna. He
talked about his job as if I knew the people there. I liked that; he was
involving me in his life. He confided that he wanted to go into the silk-screening
business for himself in his own neighborhood someday. Things were pleasant
until I got careless. He caught me staring at something I had no business
examining with such interest. He faltered for a second but resumed telling me
about his future plans. Our relationship would have survived that had it not
been for what happened at the apartment later. I took a shower and toweled off
in my bedroom. Carlos’ presence in the next room and the sexy flamenco dancer on
the wall were too much. I got aroused.
“Amigo, what say we…” The voice from the open doorway died. Carlos’
eyes went from my rampant member to the framed poster, and then back to me. “Uh,
think I made a mistake. Better go,” he said abruptly.
I trailed him into the living room
as I struggled into my damp robe. “Carlos, don’t get the wrong idea. Please
don’t…” The door slammed on my protest.
The week dragged by. There was
no listing for Carlos in the phone book or with the operator. When I dialed him
at work, he wouldn’t take the call. On Monday, I hit the Turkish bath. He did
not show. Friday afternoon, I hung around outside his workplace at quitting
time. There was no sign of him. Saturday evening the phone rang.
“Meet me at the diner. Fifteen
minutes,” he said abruptly and hung up.
Carlos was already seated at a
booth when I arrived. With his mouth fixed in a firm line, his eyes bored holes
in me as I walked toward him. He spoke as soon as I sat.
“Tell me straight out. Are you
a maricón…a queer?”
I met his stare. “Let me tell
you a story, and you tell me what I am.” He did not say a word as I related my
sexual history, including what finished off my marriage. He stared at me in
silence for a full minute after I finished.
“You never did it with a guy
before that? Or after?” I shook my head. “Did you follow me into the steam room
to get to me?”
I equivocated. “I followed you
because I wanted to get to know you.”
“But you didn’t want me?”
“I didn’t say that. I put it
aside when I knew how you felt about…it.”
“Do you want me? Yes or no?”
“Yes. But I’d rather have a
friendship, Carlos.”
“How’m I supposed to be friends
with a guy who wants to queer me?”
“I hoped you could separate
the two things. I can.”
“Yeah, well… I can’t.”
“Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”
“Yeah. You do that. Don’t call
me at work anymore.” He started to get up, then hesitated. “That picture. You
get it before you met me or after?”
“Before. That’s why you caught
my eye that day. I halfway thought you were the dancer.”
“Sick!” he said as he
departed.
I’d handled my divorce easier
than losing a budding friendship with that young man. I did the only thing I
knew, worked hard at a new project. A month struggled by. One Saturday
afternoon the buzzer sounded. “Yes?”
“Can I come up?”
My heart leapt into my throat.
“Sure.”
Carlos looked so handsome
standing at the door that I couldn’t speak and had to invite him inside with a
sweep of my hand. He wore black jeans, a black shirt with pink trim, and boots.
“How you been?” he asked as he
brushed by me.
“Making it,” I replied and
ventured to add. “Missed you.”
“Me, too,” he mumbled as he
walked into the den and stood looking at the river. Suddenly, he turned around.
“This is stupid. I shouldn’t have come.”
“I’m glad you did. That tells
me something.”
His voice caught in his throat
as he spoke. “What does it tell you?”
“It tells me that despite what
you say, you’re interested. You can deny it if you want, but you’re curious.”
“Curious about what?” he
demanded.
“About what it would be like
between you and me.”
His face darkened. “You think
I’m queer?”
I shook my head. “No, but I
think you want to know how it would be.”
“Hell, I coulda done that
anytime down at the baths. I had to fight them off.”
“Not what you were looking
for.”
“Looking for?” His voice rose
dangerously.
“Why did you keep coming back?”
“For the steam. Why else?”
“Because—whether you realized
it or not—you were looking for someone. Not someone you’d consider as a fairy.
Ordinary guy.”
“For what?”
“To experiment with.” I
screwed up my courage and blundered on. “And you found him. But you don’t know
what to do next.”
Carlos swallowed hard. “You so
all fired smart, tell me. Tell me what to do next.”
“Say it’s okay for me to touch
you.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed a
couple of times, but no words came out of his mouth. Finally, he nodded.
As he stood in the middle of
my apartment, I moved to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Slowly, so as not
to startle him, I caressed his smooth cheek, fingered his pouty lips, and
explored his hard pecs. Shifting around behind him, I pulled him against me and grew bolder.
I experienced the hum of his body and an occasional quiver as I moved my hands
over him and hoped it was from passion, not fear. I covered him with the flat
of my hand and felt him react.
“I knew you were peligroso when you first came into the
steam room,” he growled deep in his throat. “More dangerous than all the
others. Don’t know why I didn’t chase you out.”
With those words, I knew things
would be all right.
Later, as he slept beside me
in my bed, I relived the marvelous previous hour. I’d had one of those “earth
shattering” experiences people always nattered about. And it had been real… at
least for me. I didn’t know what would happen next. In all probability we’d share
one another again, perhaps even for a while. But I had no illusions this was a
permanent thing. I would take all of him he allowed and learn to be satisfied
with that. In the meantime, enjoy.
Before sleep claimed me, I glanced
through the gloom to the poster on my wall, startled anew by the uncanny
resemblance to my Carlos… my dancer.
*****
And
there you have it. Consummation! Nirvana. Heaven on earth. But even as he basks
in the glow of such ecstasy, Rob wonders how long it will last. That’s a question
for you, dear reader. Is this a passing in the night or the beginning of a long relationship? Let me know what you think.
Abaddon’s Locusts,
the
fifth in the BJ Vinson mystery series, came
out earlier this month. I hope you’ll consider buying a copy. If you do, please
post a review of the book on Amazon. Each one helps… as do letters to the
publisher.
Now
my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on
writing. You have something to say… so say it.
My
personal links:
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www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982
Twitter:
@dontravis3
Buy
links to Abaddon’s Locusts:
See
you next week.
Don
New Posts are
published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.
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