Date: Sun, 25 Jun 2006 15:28:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: Gossett Stacy <teckno72@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Beautiful"

[All the "proper" disclaimers here--semi-autobiographical--probably in the
no sex forum]

Beautiful

      I'm a wreck.  I'm sitting here at this table, and all I can do is
look around dining hall.  I almost dropped my glass.  I caught it with
fumbling fingers, but it almost went everywhere.  I looked up again and
again as people sauntered into the room with their witty repartee and some
with partners.  I was feverishly interested.

     Oh, God, let it be him.  I know I don't deserve him, but let it be
him.  I know it's wrong to want him, but let it be him.  It was like a
mantra, as I pretended to look at the menu.  I was dressed nicely.  I'm a
. . . stocky, but most people seem to take it in stride.  I'm built like a
wall, as they say.  And, I've got hair pretty much all over.  That, too,
surprisingly, doesn't seem to bother too many people.

     It was not long ago that I met him.  We worked in higher-end retail.
Eventually, I figured out he was high a lot of the time.  That's how he
dealt with working in retail.  Oh, and, also, how he dealt with having a
wife, a child, and (eventually) another on the way.  Sheesh, I was well
aware he liked being in bed with the wife.  But, his eyes told me a
different story.

     Now, I didn't lead him on or moon over him like a sick little school
girl (well, maybe a little), but you'd just have to know him.  He just
seemed like the genuine article to almost everyone I knew.  He tried to
remain positive and helpful, until he hit that rut just before he was
walked out the door.

      Adam was a true red head.  He was tall and classically Irish stock
with the fry-in-the-sun, pallid complexion and the little red freckles.
His blue eyes seemed to catch you and hold you in a way that just magnified
the feelings you were already having from his beautiful smile.  He was
tallish.  And, he liked to be active.  His muscles were just the right
proportion, and he had abs.  Not the most distinct abs, mind you.  But, he
had them.  Don't you hate the way guys play with their stomachs, lifting up
their shirt just a little to give you a show with their belly.  Some don't
even know they're doing it.  Adam could tell he was doing it to me.

     How did I know?  Well, Adam told me a little about his background.  He
had had to avoid putting down his criminal record when he had applied.
Somehow they had not followed up on it or had thought it wasn't bad enough
to keep him from doing work for them.  Adam had mentioned reform school.  I
can only imagine what went on there.  He didn't like to talk about it.
But, I gather he wasn't that scarred.  He gave me those eyes on occasion,
and I knew he liked more than the girls.

     Well, we live in the Southern United States.  I don't have to tell you
where, because (for the most part) those states are pretty much all the
same.  Oh, let's exclude Florida, but that's about all.  In the South,
people actually think that you are better off married than finding a
same-sex partner.  You're better off doing anything than having gay sex.
That'll send you to Hell.  So, everyone ignored the fact (as much as they
could) that Adam had been in jail (and whatever had gone on there--boys will
be boys, after all).

     As soon as he knew it, Adam was dating some cute young lady.  As is
the natural course of things (I suppose) for breeders, they had unprotected
sex, because marriage was actually in the back of both of their minds.  A
few less months than nine would only cause a little talk, anyhow.  So, sure
enough, she was pregnant.  Adam regrets that he never got the chance to see
if he really loved this girl, but that was part his fault too.  He couldn't
keep it in is pants, even though he knew he had a taste for men.  Don't
laugh: I can't blame him--I was dating girls for a long time `til I figured
it out.  But, in my case, they didn't turn me on enough to want to fuck
them.  I said I was waiting for the right one, and that went over rather
well with the church ladies and the other naïve ladies in town.  My guy
friends could never understand, and I was kind of glad.

     I thought I was going to jump out of my skin.  There he was, always
smiling.  He walked in his cute preppy clothes.  Adam's always been a great
dresser.  I stood up, cautious smile.  He walked over.  Confident as hell,
always was.  It made it easier to make all the mistakes he'd made.  I was
hoping he wouldn't mind making one more.  Adam shook my hand, and I started
to sweat harder.

"How've you been?" asked beautiful Adam, as he pumped my hand up and down.
"I've been good, and you?"  I asked, avoiding those deep blue pools of
water above his nose.
  	"Fine, considering.  So, what's up?"
	"I thought we could have dinner and talk about old times."
	"Well, sure.  Why not?"

     Oh, it was wonderful being in his presence again.  He was truly a
beautiful man, and none of that had changed.  If anything, I knew that
distance had made my heart grow fonder of him.  And, what was that I
smelled?  Cologne?  He hadn't worn that while we were working.  Oh, he
smelled good.  Something like Hugo maybe.  I dunno.

"Oh, and I'll pay.  Don't worry anything about it." I quickly offered.  I
knew times would be tough for him, a non-working wife, and two kids.  "If
you insist," Adam smiled back graciously, and I could have melted right
there.

   The waitress came, and we ordered.  Adam flirted with the waitress.
That is his way.  But, I wondered if he still liked me, especially since he
was very married.  I thought that maybe I was being an old pervert (we were
about ten years apart, he in his twenties; I in my thirties), but I knew
what longing for another man could bring about.  I hated myself for being
the "happy home wrecker," if this was the case.  But, Adam had to have a
real life, no?  I don't know.  This was up to him.  I'd let him decide.

     We ate dinner, laughing at each other's anecdotes about the way things
were and the way things are and the way things were going to be, if we had
anything to do with it.  He had good table manners.  I got some food on my
shirt.  I'm always in a damn rush.  I don't know why.  But, this time
especially, I was in a rush.  I wanted to see what he would say to my
forwardness.  Because, I wanted to know if it was even possible.  I just
had to know, if we could somehow be together.  I'd carried a torch far too
long to wait another day.

     "Adam?"
     "Yeah?"
     "Would you mind if we had dessert at my place?"

     Adam looked like a doe at night in headlights.  It was obvious he was
thinking it over in his mind.  I had the advantage: I knew he had had
affairs before (but with women).  However, he had had that reform school
experience (whatever it had been) and the sanctity of God and marriage is
always in the back of the mind of a Southern male.

       "Just dessert?" asked Adam with a nervous smile.
     "Yeah, if that's what you want.  It's all up to you."  I gulped.  My
mouth was sure damn dry, so I drank a little from the water glass in front
of me.
     "Okay, . . . but, only what I want, okay?"
     "Sure, Adam.  Only what you want."  I smiled back and tried not to
look like a hungry animal.

     He pulled out his cell phone.  He put a finger to his lips, still
smiling, while he phoned.  He quickly made up some lie about something
being wrong with his car, and he'd stay in a hotel until morning.  I could
hear some resistance, but she let it go.

     I wanted to reach out, across the table, and hold his hand.  But, that
would have been insufferably "gay," and that might make him change his
mind.  So, instead, I just smiled a shit-eating grin.


     We had apple martinis when we got to my place.  He liked the little
hole in the wall I lived in.  I could tell he was eyeing me, and I tried to
ignore it.  Though, I was doing my share of the eyeballing.

     "Uh, it's been a long time, Matt.  I haven't been with a guy for years
. . ."
     "Don't worry.  We won't do anything you don't want to do.  I promise."
     "It's already sounding like a porno," Adam grinned.
     "Well, . . . whatever you like, man."

I didn't even have to ask him.  He pulled his t-shirt up over his head.
Adam smiled, and he looked down at his chest.  "I'm still in shape," he
said, rubbing his chest with his own hand.  "Yes, you certainly are."
That's all I could think to say.  Surprisingly, my mind was on other
things, besides the beauty of his chest.

     "Adam, okay, I'm stupid for bringing it up.  I know I am.  But, I have
to know.  Doesn't it bother you that you have kids and a wife?  I mean, I
know I'm not the one to give you lessons on morality, but . . . ."

     "Don't you think I've been over and over that stuff in my head?  Do
you know that my wife cheated on me?  Do you know that I really didn't care
that much?  Do you know that we're staying together for the kids or until
we just can't stand each other anymore?  We were young and stupid.  I was
just hoping that we could have one lousy night together, Matt.  Something
that we could both enjoy.  We deserve it.  How many guys have you been with
since you met me."

     I hesitated.  I didn't really want to tell him I hadn't been with
anyone since him.
    "Yeah, I kind of figured that much," replied Adam, a little angry from
the looks of it.
     "I didn't mean to get you mad, Adam.  I . . . just . . . ."
     "You still feel guilty for being gay."
     "Now, that's not the truth--I've made my peace with it."
     "Matt, you're stuck on a guy that can only fuck you on the weekends at
best.  I have kids to feed and a wife to service.  You are free to do
whatever the hell you want to do, and you still want me.  Well, you know
what?  I want you too.  And, if you can live with it, I can too."

     I mumbled something about being able to give him some money for his
kids.  "I am not a damn prostitute, Matt.  I love you.  I want to do this
for free.  Do you?"

My Southern upbringing was sure causing me some problems.  I had thought
its grip on me was gone.  But, now that I was really ready to jump off the
cliff and do things for myself, all I could think about was his wife and
kids.  Shit on me.

     I hugged his naked chest to my still-clothed body.  I didn't want it
to be like this.  I didn't want there to be any regrets for either one of
us.  Why the hell did he have to be married?  "If it wasn't me, would you
find some other guy to be with?" I found myself asking.

     "No, Matt, no other guy means a damn thing to me.  Why do you think
I've waited so long?  I know I messed around at work, but that's before I
accepted it.  I can be with girls or guys, Matt.  I go for the person, and
you've always acted like you loved me.  Isn't that true?"

     "Well, I do . . . love you.  But, I don't want you to think of this as
just another affair you had.  You're so . . . special.  Not retarded, but
so special to me."
     Adam chuckled.  "I feel the same way.  So, do you want to do anything
about it?"
     I shook my head.  "Wait a minute.  Let me think.  Damn, you're
beautiful, Adam."
     "Yeah, some people have brought it up."  Adam smiled deliciously.
     "It was a mistake to marry your wife?"  I asked.
     "Definitely," Adam said.
     "And, you're still going to go back to her after whatever we do here?"
I asked, thinking this was not at all fair to Adam, but wanting to know
anyway.
     "Matt, I've told you.  It's only for the kids."  Adam said like he
really believed it himself.  I shook my head, and handed him back his
shirt.
     "Adam, I just can't do it.  I know that's not fair to you, but I just
can't.  If you never talk to me again, I'll understand."  I said, hardly
believing what I was saying.

     "Okay, fine," Adam threw his shirt on and headed for the door.
     He turned around before he turned the knob.  "Feeling all high and
mighty and shit?!!"
     "No, I'm not."  And, that was the honest-to-God truth.  I was feeling
regret, and . . . some relief, if I could admit it to myself.  There were
no tears as he left.  I just sat there drinking in the sudden emptiness of
my apartment, breathing slowly, deliberately.