Date: Sat, 13 Sep 2003 16:44:10 -0700 (PDT)
From: Drew Filchak <dfilchak@qwest.net>
Subject: Average Joe

(Author's note:  I want to acknowledge a great friend, mentor and
my primary Muse . . . Stefan.  Without his friendship, I doubt very
much if I would have ever started writing again.  Kiss, honey.
He's an amazing author.  Check out his incredible work at
http://stefan680.tripod.com/stefanstories/index2.html)

If you like this story, check out my first posting called "Release"
in Nifty's gay/beginnings section.


                            Average Joe

     "Boxers or Briefs?"
     A voice, at once unbelieving, yet humorous, crossed the space
between pumps as Joe looked at the strong face of the man who had
spoken; the man whose lower region Joe had been fixedly staring at
for the past few moments.  Flaming, hot blush suffused his pale
cheeks, traveling to his forehead and ears before he could force
his eyes from the guy's stare.  A clench more physical in nature
assaulted his stomach.  His hand raced to his mid-section in an
effort to forestall the suddenly pending expulsion of his lunch.
     He'd been caught in his most shamed nightmare; gawking at a
guy's groin in public.  Now the only thing left for him was to hope
the guy went easy on him with a simple, disgusted curse of faggot
or the like.  He'd  been hit once before by his younger brother as
they fought over the car radio and didn't relish a repeat.  But now
the guy had started towards him, attitude entrenched in his step;
eyes fixed pointedly on Joe's own.  Alarms clanged inside him and
the desire to run surged through him as adrenaline peaked.
     Joe reached quickly for the pump handle playing top to his gas
tank and yanked firmly, removing the nozzle and randomly spewing
gasoline on the pavement.  He slammed the handle into its cradle
and frantically scrambled to spin the cap into place.   Joe
launched an apology over the car as he started around the back side
of the green Saturn.
     "Uh, sorry about that bud.  Honest!  I didn't mean anything."
He calmed a bit, finally moving and voicing his initial retreat.
Life had taught him that the finesse of capitulation lay in the
success and smoothness of the delivery.  A solid verbal retreat
normally stopped any physical engagement, plus gave pause enough
for Joe to slip quietly out of both physical and verbal reach.
Unfortunately, this wasn't a normal situation with a normal guy.
     The guy stood waiting for him at the driver's door.  Joe
froze, hand clasping the rear corner in an aborted attempt to
provide slingshot momentum to the front door and safety.
     "Not so fast" the guy said, raising his hand in pointed
directive demanding Joe remain where he'd stopped, rooted in
suspense as the flight instinct flashed across his mind.  This guy
was bigger than him with biceps stretching his shirt sleeves and
sculpted pectorals standing in relief through the white T-shirt.
     "Just hold it, would ya?"  The voice rose slightly in a
plaintive flourish.
     Joe watched the guy take the few steps needed to place the two
of them in front of each other; large, worn work boots filled the
brief focus of Joe's gaze before he looked upward again.  The guy
stared at him, probing for what Joe felt to be a response, then
said, "You haven't answered my question and since I feel like I've
given you a free show, I think I at least deserve an answer.  Don't
you?"
     A stunted, near-silent cough expelled the measure of Joe's
surprise at the question.  The question and the tone with which it
was asked startled him while at the same time capturing him in the
gaze from the guy's bright eyes; eyes that refused to yield their
intent.  They remained a placid blue-gray reflection of focused
study and implied seriousness.
     'How's a guy supposed to respond to this question, to these
eyes?'  he thought.   This is why he never seriously looked at
straight men; no one could ever be expected to not stare at aliens,
or in his case, straight men.  Normal eye contact with straights
was too much for him most of the time because he feared  . . .
what? Conveying too much desire?  Earlier today his client had
mentioned it.


     The question was simple, why didn't Joe ever look him in the
eye when he spoke to him?  Joe recognized that an answer was
required.  This was his client and he couldn't afford to offend
him, so he apologized and quickly met the other man's gaze while
his stomach clenched and his palms wept with sweat.  His client,
tall with dark hair and deep blue eyes,  was everything Joe wanted
in a man and he knew intuitively that he would now fail miserably
in his attempt to keep his desire hidden.  "I'm sorry.  I guess I'm
just better with machines Mike.  I'll work on it, alright man?"
His response appeared to have the desired effect, at least to the
point that Mike smiled then told Joe  that he shouldn't be afraid
to show a little desire.  Then  his client winked seductively at
him. "Ya never know when a little visual persuasion is all that is
needed to close a deal."  His client winked again and laughed.  Joe
hesitantly returned the smile, glancing briefly at Mike's wedding
ring, and instantly knew his straight client was only teasing his
obviously flustered, gay consultant.    Joe sighed, embarrassed.
So much for meeting a straight guy's eyes.
     The prior hour and forty-five minutes had been spent in a
meeting with angry executives discussing their personal wants for
the network system expansion.  Joe had listened closely and
speaking only when a need to correct a mistaken understanding was
required.  These people were movers and players and he was not.  He
was their consultant or as he thought, their glorified contracted
tech service guy, nothing more.  He couldn't compete with them and
was glad he only had to drag his average butt to Colorado Springs
once a week.  He knew his ego couldn't have taken much more.
     He shook hands with his client then quickly exited for the
hour or so drive home.  He made the decision to stop at the filling
station on the southernmost side of Castle Rock., a Denver bedroom
community, in order to avoid Denver Tech Centre stop-and-stop
traffic coupled with the constant worry about low petrol levels.
He didn't do well with tension.  Plus the gas was cheaper here.
     His departure from the Springs had been delayed and he was now
doomed to hit rush hour at precisely the worst possible time.  This
thought along with resignation to his pending commuting fate was
foremost in his mind as he gazed across the station to the next
pump.  That was when he first got a look at the guy half obscured
by the side of his pickup truck.  Awe overwhelmed him as he scanned
the stranger's face.  He was awed by his manliness, the straight
lines of his face and jaw  . . . at least what he could see through
the back and driver side window. The guy didn't appear aware of
anything besides washing the bugs from his wind shield.  Joe
continued to gaze through the rear window, his eyes momentarily
resting on the child seat lashed onto the passenger seat, then
returned to the view of the dark-haired guy rounding the front of
the truck. His T-shirt defined a tight set of pectorals and slim
waist.  His biceps were apparent without being enormous, and to
Joe's inner delight, there was a substantial projection of the
man's zipper which passed in a quick flash before the guy turned
and reached up to continue washing the passenger side wind shield.
It was at this precise point that Joe became permanently lost in
his desire and longing.
      The view before him caused his mouth to drop and a lusty
curse to issue forth quietly.  The man raised onto his toes and
reached with both hands, grasping the handle, to scrub bugs from
the glass.  His biceps clenched and his torso flexed, collaborating
with the relatively tight denim stretched over his long, firm legs
in a mesmerizing and erotic display.  The result combined to
highlight a view of stunning magnificence; a near-perfect viewing
of god's greatest gifts to mankind -- the male buttocks in motion.
     Joe gasped as the bulging glutes flexed repeatedly in a
balancing action as his weight shifted with each thrust of his arms
in the cleaning attempt.  His mouth dropped further as he devoured
the  natural and near-perfect sight before him, yet still a number
of paces across the pavement.  Another groan drained quietly from
Joe's lips when the guy lowered himself onto both feet, only to
then launch again into a renewed assault on the bugs.
     And then, as Joe watched the perfect muscles again relax in
balanced stance, his heartbeat suddenly quickened as the butt
slowly turned from his view, replaced with the jean-clad crotch
bulging seductively; truly, god's second greatest gift to the
masses!  He stared openly at the focus point where the material
rounded over the mound, accenting the fall of cloth  and combining
in a stunning display of . . .


     "So?  Am I wearing boxers or briefs?" he asked a second time,
now standing a mere two feet from the still frozen Joe.  "You sure
looked hard and long enough to know." And with the slightest smile
on the corner of his lip, the guy released the flustered and frozen
Joe from his fear of being bashed.
     "Briefs," he sputtered in return.  His gaze again dropped to
the man's crotch, then realizing his repeated mistake and the
horror of the proximity of the guy, his head snapped up and he
locked eyes with the black haired man; cheeks again freshly painted
red.
     "You sure?  Do you need one more look?"  Laughter filled the
area between the two vehicles.
     Joe smiled tentatively and shook his head to the side.  "No,
and . . . I'm sorry again."
     "Don't be.  You are right, you know.  Guess you win the grand
prize!"  More laughter, tinged with renewed enjoyment, rocked from
the man's mouth and eyes.  Joe watched as the guy slapped his outer
leg in contribution to his playful mood.
     "Uh . . . I do?"
     "Sure, why not?  How about you let me buy you a beer.  I
haven't enjoyed watching someone nearly piss their pants like this
in a long time.  I almost feel I owe you one for checking me out.
This has definitely been a first for me!"
     Joe's confusion slowly made way for the jovial mood he sensed
from the smiling guy.   Then a stray thought flashed through his
mind as his eyes darted briefly to the pick-up passenger window.
"But, uh . . . don't you have to get home to the wife and kids?"
His mind screamed with shock as he heard the words come out of his
mouth.  There was no way he'd just asked that question of the
unnerving, confident stranger.  That was not his voice! This was
not his personality nor was it any kind of line he'd used before or
ever even dreamed of using.  He just did not do this; engage in
banter with anyone that was so supremely above him in overall, raw
magnitude.  And this guy was obviously a straight guy that knew Joe
was far from straight.
     The guy's expression sobered briefly, then surged forth again
brightly.  "Now you're getting a little personal, aren't you?"
     Their shared laughter lingered as they pulled their cars into
the lot across the street from the station.  The flickering neon
signs promised cocktails nightly beneath the vacancy sign.


     "I'm telling you, just meet me at my house,"  Joe said into
his phone headset as he pulled from the hotel parking lot and
approached the highway entrance.  "I should be there in 15 minutes.
I'll fill you in on everything . . . no I'm not bringing the guy .
. . no he's not!  Jeez Dennis, he's straight,  you know me better
than that, I don't even know his name, next subject  . . .
     "Dennis! . . . I should never have told you that  . . . what?
. . . no, only a little sore, but it was so worth it honey!  He's
just gorgeous with these light blue-grey eyes that simply captured
my soul.  I was just melting.  . . . I know, this never happens to
me . . . and I don't call all guy's gorgeous.  Only the gorgeous
ones . . . it's hard to say, just everything, but you should see
how the guy walks, oh my god!  . . . yes, it was so perfect,
somewhat round and very firm, it rides high on his legs and the
power in it when he'd  . . . god, you're such a pig.  I was going
to say when he moved into me . . .I don't know . . . because I
freaked before I could use my mouth, that's why . . . I freaked
because he was simply a god that had fucked two loads out of me and
I never even touched my dick . . . look I've used my hand since a
year ago Christmas and this guy was way too much for me. . . . no
I'm not overstating it . . . fuck you Dennis, you open your own
fucking horizons, I'm fine with what I have . . .my sex life is not
boring . . . it is not non-existent  . . . next subject please . .
.
     "I'm still wondering about that myself, one minute we're
sitting at this bar across from the gas station and enjoying a beer
and he's chuckling about the look of lust he said he saw on my face
when he turned from cleaning the windows . . . he said he saw my
reflection in the side window . . . I don't know, just shut up a
minute, will ya? . . . you know what I mean letch . . . so we're
drinking the beers and  . . . no, we only had one but I damn near
drank the first one in one gulp I was so nervous . . . no, he
laughed and guzzled his then ordered two more . . . no, we didn't
drink them, just stop with the questions and let me finish, ok?  .
. . good, anyway he says, "hang on a minute will ya?" . . . sure I
did,  who am I to say anything to this guy, right? So he gets up
and goes through the door into the hotel part and I swear it wasn't
even two minutes later he comes back in, sits down and lays a room
key on the table and asks me if I'd like to join him . . . Way! . .
. right, like I could even move at that point and then he tells me
my mouth is open again and that he's taking that as a yes.  Then he
stood up and finished his beer and says to come on, he's waited
long enough . . . No shit!  I swear honey!!!"
     A horn blared on his passenger side and to the rear as Joe
switched lanes towards his exit.  "I know, I know . . . yeah fuck
you, too!" he mumbled to himself.  He finished his lane change and
raced down the exit towards Colorado Boulevard.  "I just got off
the highway honey, where are you? . . . oh you're just pulling up?
Good, I'll be there in ten minutes.  You know where the key is.
There's a nice bottle of pinot noir on the bar . . . yeah, it's on
the shelf. . . there are some in the dishwasher . . . no, I broke
the last real one, just use a straight glass . . .
     "Well I would if you'd stop interrupting . . .yes, I followed
him out and around the building to the room . . . I was staring at
his ass what do you think  I was doing?. . . his ass was like
moving marble, I can't tell you anything else about the walk to the
room, my eyes were glued to his butt . . . no I don't think he did,
but if he did, he didn't say anything to me . . . well, I watched
it clench once just before he opened the door and turned for me to
go in first . . . yeah, his hand pressed the small of my back and I
could swear I heard him sniff my hair as I walked through the door.
When I turned around, he was standing there, grinning with his arms
held out  and then, fuck Dennis, he said, "so look all you want,
this is the real grand prize" . . . I know! I fucking about shot
right there . . . I wasn't the only one that was hard . . . because
it was bulging out of his crotch that's how . . . well, we fucked .
. . no, I'm not going into every little detail . . . I told you, I
left because I freaked out . . . because he was perfect and I'm
not, that's why . . . yes, twice, no hands . . . not now, I'm
pulling up anyway . . . yes . . . hi honey."
     Joe tossed his cell phone headset on the console and watched
Dennis on the porch take a sip of wine from each of the glasses he
was holding.  His action brought a quiet laugh from Joe as he
stepped from his car and stretched upward involuntarily, groaning
loudly, a grin covering his face.
     "Honey, you look so freshly fucked, you're positively glowing!
I've never seen you with that smile before!"  Dennis' voice rang
clearly from the porch steps causing Joe to twitch with
embarrassment.
     "God, Dennis," he said, looking over his shoulder to the front
porches and sidewalk behind him, "tell the whole world why don't
you?"
     "Oh, sorry, I forgot,"  he grinned, then continued in the same
broadcast voice "you're the friend that never gets fucked and
always drolls on and on and on about it.  I should be more
sensitive!"
     Joe sighed and realized the battle had been lost the moment he
first called Dennis on his cell phone as he was pulling from the
hotel parking lot.  Inside him there was a difference that could
not argue with Dennis's exuberance.  It was an uplifting of his
spirit.  He'd just had sex with someone that he would have never
dreamed possible.  Actually, he felt like he was walking on clouds
as he climbed the first step towards a waiting Dennis.
     "So you've deemed yourself responsible for the press release
announcing my good fortune?"
     "Honey, with your track record, you'd need a whole team of PR
guys to undo the damage you create daily with your 'I'm just
average' mantra.  One day you'll realize it's not all about looks."
     "Bullshit, it is all about looks and it always has been."
     "Bullshit right back at you Joe.  You just got fucked by what
you've said was an incredibly good looking . . . no gorgeous, if I
recall, not-so-straight stud.  You don't think that your looks came
into play over the past hour?"
     "No, it wasn't about me, it was about him.  He needed to get
his rocks off before he went home to the wife and kids.  I was just
a faggot that he saw wanted sex.  No big deal.  End game."
     "Honey, you really need to see a shrink about your self-
esteem.  Granted you are not Brad Pitt, there are only a handful
that are, but look at you . . . look at that silky chestnut-brown
hair, your chocolate eyes, your little nose and your perfect, if
not in-need-of-a-cleaning, teeth.  You're not too fat, you're not
too thin, you're just good to look at and in my opinion, easy on
the eyes."
     "Easy on the eyes?  Honey, you're the one that needs a shrink!
Or maybe an eye doctor.  I'm boring and you know it.  I have been
boring since I can remember and there's not a lot that sweet words
can say to change that."
     "When I say 'easy on the eyes', I'm referring to the fact that
you are a good looking man that isn't too much to look at, nor too
difficult to look at . . . easy on the eyes and quite a catch if I
wasn't 20 years older than you."
     "I wish you'd get off that age thing!   Thirty-two is not what
you remember it as.  It's boring."
     "Yeah, right . . . you just got fucked by a 'stud' and you
call your life boring?  Why can't you just enjoy a little bit of
happiness.  I love you to death, but your morbidity around your
looks, personality and whole life is a real downer.  I obviously
need some more wine!"
     Joe snorted and said, "I love you Dennis, you never back down.
Nor do you ever let me get the last word in!"
     "Just let me get the bottle, you're obviously in great need of
my 'last words'."
     Joe watched the happenings on the street while Dennis went
inside to fetch the bottle of wine.  He lived near the large
traffic artery in Denver known as Colfax Avenue.  Colfax spanned
the city east to west in a straight shot and, prior to the I-70
interstate that came through Denver in the seventies, was the
primary highway link to the par-sectioned federal highway system
spanning the country coast to coast.  His location near Colfax,
actually two houses in from the notorious boulevard, provided a
constant influx of traffic from wayward, but determined, men as
they would park on his street and walk around the corner to the
entrance of the adult bookstore.  He seldom paid close enough
attention to what they actually looked like to relate looks and
composite sketch to an ever-appreciative audience comprised of
Dennis solely.  But now, as he heard Dennis moving back towards the
front door, his attention focused on a burgundy pick-up that had
parked across the street from his house.  The driver had opened the
door and swung his large, worn work boots followed by a jean-clad
torso out onto the street.  It took a moment for Joe to realize who
he was looking at,
     "Honey, you look like you've seen Dubya kiss Cheney's not-so-
sexy ass."
     Joe was speechless as he watched the guy in the street stand
quiet, locking his gaze with Joe's.
     "Dennis, it's him."


     Joe was fourteen and a half, Darin was barely sixteen and Joe
was in love with him.  There could be no other word for what he was
feeling.  This was the man for him . . . Darin was the end all and
Joe knew it.    The young, fourteen-year-old-ass was still warm and
sore from the pounding Darin had just finished with all the aplomb
a cocky sixteen year old could muster.
     "I love you, Darin," Joe's adolescent voice whispered as he
looked at the young quarterback's naked body, sweat covered and
trembling from the sexual release.  Darin had been fucking young
Joe for only a couple of months, but had been enjoying his mouth on
his raging teenage dick and sweet teenage ass for over a year.  He
hated to lose it, but his folks were moving.  Fuck!
     "I know you do, Joey.  You always have, but you gotta
understand that I love Linda and she comes first.  Plus, there are
a couple of guys on the team that like swinging on my dick probably
as much as you do.  So, get over it.  There's lots of people
wanting me."
     "I know Darin, but you're not saying we can't keep doing this,
are you?"
     "Now's as good as time as ever Joey to tell you."  He rolled
off the worried teen and sat on the edge of the bed.  He looked
down at his shrinking member and noticed the slime and smears
covering his skin.  He also noticed a small trace of red mixed with
the clear juice.  "Hey Joey, am I hurting you when I fuck ya?"
     Joe was silent for a minute, then looked at Darin with eyes
clouded with love, "It's ok Darin, I know you don't mean to.  I
just like it when you're doing it.  I'll be ok." He paused for a
moment, then asked, "what do you mean by saying it's a good time to
tell me something?"
     Darin felt bad, but knew that Joe wanted everything he did to
him so he used the out Joey offered him and said, "We're moving to
California cause Dad got this great new job.  I just thought you
knew since our families are so close.  Then you go and tell me you
love me and I knew you didn't know."
     Joe was devastated and the tears filled his eyes immediately.
Speechless, he reached for Darin, but the young quarterback pulled
away from the adolescent hand.  Joe couldn't fathom not being with
Darin.  The pain knew no bounds as his teenage heart shattered into
countless pieces.
     Darin, sensing the kid's pain, added to the pain
unintentionally.  "Kid, there's lots of guys that'll fuck you.
I'll send them your way.  You'll see, all the cool guys would love
to use your mouth and butt.  You'll love it!"
     And so it was.  The cool guys, three in particular, used Joe's
young holes for target practice and self-gratification.  He became
the first to be asked to a sleep-over and the last to be chosen for
a team or to ride bikes.  The cool kids were clear in their bigotry
. . . you can suck my dick, but you're not going to be my friend.
Live with it and stay away from us cool dudes.  Joe did and
continued to do so for the last 20 years.


     And there, now standing before the first step leading to his
porch, was the guy from earlier; the gorgeous stud, the cool dude.
Joe thought at first that he was imagining the sight, but
hallucinations were not a part of his normal routine.  Joe stared
for a moment longer and without realizing it, his face slowly
widened in a grin.
     "Hi.  What are you doing here? No, never mind that . . . how
did you know where to find me?"
     The guy smiled in return then reached into his front pocket
and withdrew a wallet Joe recognized as his own and held it up for
Joe to see.  "Honest, I'm not stalking you."
     A muffled "Fuck Me" broke the silence behind them, then Dennis
opened the screen door and stepped out onto the front porch, two
full glasses in hand.   He handed Joe his glass of wine then set
his own down on the half wall leading to the steps.
     "Well, I'll just be going.  Call me later, Honey"
     "Uh, sure Dennis, thanks"
     The guy frowned briefly, then said, "Oh, hey . . . you don't
have to leave on account of me."
     Dennis laughed brightly.  "Oh sure I do Sugar.  You two may be
exhibitionists, but I'm really not much of a voyeur and I can just
smell more sex in the air."
     "Dennis!  Stop it!"  Joe cried then heard the guy's laugh join
Dennis' own.
     "Bye now, boys."  He finished and headed down the steps
towards the street.  As he passed the man still standing with his
foot on the first step he gave a wide smile to him and said over
his shoulder, "Joey, you were right, honey.  Both he and his ass
are gorgeous.  Aren't you going to invite him up?"
     The guy blushed and offered a renewed grin to Dennis over his
shoulder, then turned and looked questioningly at Joe.  Joe shook
his head in resignation at his friend's last word, then smiled and
raised his glass.  "Care to join me?"
     The guy smiled widely.  "For a minute there I thought you
weren't going to ask me."
     Well," began Joe, "I do need to thank you for returning my
wallet, but would you mind first telling me your name?"  His mouth
pursed then grinned in shared, yet embarrassed recognition of the
age-old gay dance.
     "It's Tom and you're Joe.  I, uh, got that from your license."
Eyes twinkling, Tom mounted the steps and Joe offered the empty
wicker chair to him with a wave of his hand, taking his wallet.  He
stood at the same time and bumped into Tom who stopped him from
falling backwards by holding his hand to Joe's waist.  Their eyes
met and Joe's shoulders twitched once as if he were shaking off a
chill.  Tom's lips and cheeks raised in a slight smile.
     "Would you like a glass of wine?" Joe asked, needing words to
stop the tremors racing down his back.  "It's the least I can do
for the trouble you've gone through bringing my wallet over and
all."
     "Sure, that would be nice.  And Joe, it was my pleasure."  Joe
caught the easy laugh and smile Tom flashed towards him.
     "Have a seat, I'll be right out."
     "Oh hey, don't bother," Tom said as he glanced at Dennis' full
glass.  "I'll finish your friend's, if that's all right.  I'm sure
the alcohol will kill any residual cooties."  He reached for the
glass as Joe laughed..
     "You can count on it, knowing Dennis.  He's all talk."
     Tom took a sip of the wine and Joe watched as he swished it
over his tongue, then noticed as Tom's eyes closed and his lips
pursed in apparent appreciation.  Joe's lips parted to say
something then stopped, mouth open as Tom licked his lips briefly
then opened his eyes.
     "Nice wine, Joe."  He quickly noticed Joe watching and his
face drew into his familiar half grin.
     "Your mouth's open again," he said quietly, softly, leaning
towards Joe.  His lips completed the grin his eyes had begun.
     Joe stared, frozen momentarily, then dropped his gaze and let
out a slight, quiet sigh.  He started to say something, then
paused, then subtly nodded, decision made.
     Tom watched the sandy brown haired man across from him,
sensing a dampening in his energy, his vibrancy.  The change began
in his eyes, he noted, the earlier smile dimmed.  He took another
sip of wine and sitting back into his chair, waited for Joe to
speak.
     "What are we doing here?"  Joe asked, his eyes darting briefly
to Tom's, then looked away in uncertainty.
     Confused, Tom set his glass on the side table.  "I thought we
were having a glass of wine.  I was kind of enjoying it.  You left
so quickly earlier, that I . . ."
     "What I meant was . . . are you just a nice guy, bringing me
my wallet or did you want . . ," Joe stopped with a pained look in
his eyes that spread to his face. Stress lines appeared as he
squinted, then turned again to Tom.  "Didn't you get what you
wanted?  I know I sure did, even though I never dreamt I would."
     Silence.  A pensive stillness stood between the two men as Tom
looked at Joe with a quizzical arch in his brow.  Still confused he
started, "Look, Joe, I didn't come here for any reason other than
to bring you your wallet . . . well, and because I felt I'd been
given a great second chance."
     "A second chance for what?  My ass is still feeling you," his
glib response caused another arched raise in Tom's forehead as he
felt the slap, intentional or not.  Briefly puzzled by the sudden
change,  his confusion faded as a sudden flare of anger clarified
that what he'd sensed from Joe,  a disbelief bound up with unease
and resignation, was a mask put in place to avoid hurt; hurt caused
by someone else, some other while ago.  In a leap of understanding,
Tom saw that Joe's wariness stemmed from an expectancy to be used.
Again.  And with that same understanding, he vowed to undo the
hurt, the damage; ease his wound.
     "You don't get it do you?" his voice soft, but forceful.  He
leaned again towards Joe and placed his hand gently on Joe's knee.
     "Get what?"
     "That I was turned on by you earlier, at the gas station, when
I saw you devouring me with your eyes, when I saw how much you were
wanting me."
     "So, I wanted you," Joe flared, causing Tom to rear back from
the sudden blast of intensity.   Joe continued.  "I don't like that
you saw that.  It's never happened before and it wasn't a good
feeling to realize just how pathetic I must have looked, exposing
myself as such an easy mark."
     Tom's indignation rose along with a looming sense that he'd
mistepped as Joe's meaning underscored the implication that Tom had
been the initiator, that Joe had not stood there having sex with
him with his eyes.  "Wait a minute here, please. Yes, I may have
approached you, but that was because I saw your desire and . . ."
     "And what? What now, huh? You wanted a little more before you
had to get home to the little family?"
     "Fuck that, Joe.  You turn me on, I tried to show you that,
tried to show you just how much you did for me standing there, but
then, you were suddenly gone.  Fifteen minutes after we got
started, you were blazing out the door.  I wanted to hold you, and
kiss you and . . .and tell you things.  But, bam, you were gone and
I thought, what the fuck was that about?"
     Joe dropped his gaze to the porch floor to prevent Tom from
realizing how much his words  punched something very sensitive
inside his heart.  Tom's words scraped at the scab of a wound that
had never healed, but had instead been pushed very deep by
circumstances and events from long ago.
     Tom read his demurred silence as based in guilt.  "What?  You
can't even look at me now?"
     Joe slammed his chin upwards in answer, eyes flashing mistaken
understandings and mistaken intentions.  Still, Tom continued.
     "Was I just some piece of meat you had to have on your way
home, another notch in your belt?  If that's what it was, then I'm
just so stupid to have completely misread your body language, what
I thought your lips were saying to me."
     "What are you talking about, `what my lips were saying to
you'?" Joe gasped incredulously.  "Look at you, you're all man.
Look at me, I'm not.  I'm just some nothing guy that cannot
possibly fathom that someone like you would even look at me much
less fuck me.  I haven't had sex with a guy in a year and a half
and that was just giving head with me beating off as he zipped up.
So see, this just doesn't compute.  I'm just an average guy, an
average Joe, that can't begin to understand why you'd go to all the
trouble of bringing me my wallet and then actually want to sit down
with me and whisper sweet nothings!"
     Tom's  anger dispelled instantly as he saw  Joe's eyes plead
with him to overlook the words issuing from his mouth.
     "My god, you really don't have a clue, do you?"
     "A clue?  Sure I have a clue.  Look at me, I'm not exactly a
catch.  I have mousy brown hair that is so more than boring.  I
have nothing brown eyes that are crooked on my face.  I have thin,
average lips that at least don't get in the way when I'm blowing
some guy . . . I'm fat and soft and   . . . fuck!  Sure, I have a
clue.  I'm nothing like you . . . nothing.  Why are we even talking
about this?  You need to just get your stud butt back in that shiny
truck and go home to your wife and kids and let me have my memory
of the stud who fucked me.  It'll be the highlight of my very
average existence.  Please Tom, just go, would you?"
     Tom's mouth dropped.  His jaw twisted in sputtered response.
"Please Tom, just go."
     And Tom saw determination in the normal brown eyes,
determination to retain a little self-respect amidst such obviously
contrasting desires.  He stood, suddenly not knowing any other
words to say to try and change Joe's mind.  He moved  to the steps,
then paused, realizing in that moment that this was wrong, this was
not how this evening was supposed to end - especially not after the
second chance they'd been given.
     "Bullshit."  Tom's resolve reflected in his movement back to
Joe. "You can give me this at least."   Joe's surprise apparent as
he looked up towards Tom's face.  "First of all, there's no wife
and kids, there never has been, nor will be.  I'm 110% gay and fuck
anyone that has a problem with that.  The child seat, which I know
is what put the idea that I'm straight in your head, is my
nephew's.  I take my sister's kid to daycare every morning so she
can make her six o'clock shift at the hospital.  When you first
mentioned it, I thought you thinking I'm straight was a turn on to
you.  I should have corrected that mistake immediately and
definitely when you said it again a few minutes ago.  I'm sorry
about that.  I guess I was a little blown away by you.  I've never
been called gorgeous before and I've never dreamed of someone
looking at me with the longing and lust you did at the gas pump.
I've never had anyone cum twice while I was fucking them . . .and
I've fucked enough guys and been fucked enough by guys to know that
it's not all that often that two guys click well enough where the
one receiving shoots as big of load as you did . . . twice! . . .
without even touching his dick.
     "And the way you kissed me was incredible!  You turn me on
Joe, you did at the pump and you're doing it now.  But you're so
fucking stuck in your `average shit' that you're going to not even
give me a chance to show you, or tell you, that my heart has been
pounding in my chest since I met you; that my dick has been hard
since the gas station.   It only went down because the fucking
traffic was at a standstill and I got so mad about the delay
getting to your house.  And I didn't even know if I was going to be
able to see you, if you'd even be here."
     Tom touched Joe's cheek with his warm, caressing hand, then
said, "I'd love a chance to get to know you, to spend sometime this
weekend with you; for you to get to know me.  I'm not just my body,
Joe.  And lord knows, it's only a body.  Please, will you give me .
. . us a chance?  Forget about who ever told you that you were
anything but special.  That's their shit, not yours.  Let me help
you get to know your own truth, Joe."  He paused, Joe's chin cupped
in his hand, eyes locked intensely.  "Let me help you get to know
me."
     Joe sat in the chair, tears filling his eyes, returning Tom's
look and wanting desperately to believe him, to trust him, even if
he wasn't exactly sure what Tom was talking about.  He seemed
sincere enough, but what could there ever be between them, outside
of sex?  What had there ever been between him and guys before but
sex?  He was 32 years old, but that was his fear and he knew it
intimately.  His self-protection habit, that had protected him for
so long, surged once again, and he pulled from Tom's touch.
     "I can't do this Tom.  You seem like a great guy that will
make some other great guy very happy one day.  But I'm not that
guy, I could never be that guy, so let's just call it a great fuck
and be done with it.  You're very sweet with all you say, but I
just can't do this."
     "Don't do this Joe.  I know I'm right" Tom's voice softened.
"You'll regret this and I know I'll regret this, so . . ."
     "No stud," he said with a false grin that did not touch his
eyes, "the only regret I'll have is that I didn't get to make a
meal out of your perfect ass."  Tom's eyes closed, a quiet sigh
escaped his lips as Joe finished.  "But I'll tell you, it sure
looks lip-smacking good."
     Tom opened his eyes, but now the light was out and a hard
expression covered his face.  He stared resignedly at Joe for a
moment, then shook his head as he turned and descended the stairs
to the street.  Joe watched his movement through tear-filled eyes,
his mind satisfied, but his heart felt only pain as he sat alone
now on the porch.


     He lay in bed, eyes open, yet not seeing the wall nor window
in front of him.  Light drifted through the blinds, lighting dust
and thoughts equally.  He'd awoken close to an hour earlier as the
dawn first reached through the glass.  But he still hadn't moved
much and not because his head hurt slightly from the previous
night's wine. The headache had surfaced sometime the prior evening
while he'd sat on the front porch well into the night. Instead of
eating he'd drank the rest of the bottle he'd started with Dennis
as well as part of a second. It wasn't the wine that caused his
heart to ache though.  That had been with him since he watched Tom
drive away.
     Joe saw that moment again in his mind.  And for the hundredth
time he saw that Tom had not looked back.  Was that so important?
The previous night and now again this morning Joe had told himself
again and again that he'd known Tom for less than an hour total.
Just brief intervals, scenes in a story.  But it was the importance
of those encounters that surfaced finally in his thoughts just
moments ago.  And now that his mind had seen the critical and clear
truth of Tom's last words and his own corresponding actions, he
felt paralyzed with emotions he'd only suspected were locked away
within him.  The truth of Tom's words rang over and over in his
mind - Joe had lived the past 20 years, since his early teens,
listening to and living someone else's truth.  And all along he'd
lied to himself, saying men couldn't want anything more than sex
with him because he was so average looking, because he was nothing
special.
     His mind, jarred by this brutal realization, could lie at rest
no longer.  He jumped from the bed, shoulders locked, hands
clenched into fists next to tense hips and buttocks.  The magnitude
of his own submission to not only his teenage love's, Darin's,
agenda for him, but to so many other men's agendas, astounded and
infuriated him.  He'd taken their assessment of him and their
assumptions that he was only good enough to be used sexually and
made their truths his own.  For almost 20 years he'd done this . .
. to himself!  His anger rose in a flash to fury strength as he
stared at himself in the dressing mirror.
     "Goddamn You!"  he screamed at his own mirrored self as his
fist crashed into the mirror, shattering his reflection into
countless points of self-loathing.  Glass fell to the dresser and
floor and he felt a warm trickle on his fingertips, but he did not
respond to it. Instead, he remained, fixedly standing in front of
the shattered mirror, his fury dissipating almost as quickly as it
had arrived.  "And goddamn you, Darin, for thinking you could
control me anyway you liked, even after you had moved away.  And
goddamn all those guys you left me with as your legacy.  Fuck you.
Fuck all of you!"
     Unbidden tears swelled his eyes as the ghosts of the many,
many times he'd let other guys use him surfaced to his
consciousness after so many years.  And he knew the agreement had
been mutual - that was the worst part. That on some level he
believed he wasn't worth their friendship, wasn't good enough to be
loved by them, by him!  He'd carried the hurt from Darin's
rejection and Darin's abuse in front of him for so long that other
men couldn't help but see what Joe projected; that he was just your
average, everyday cocksucker to be used to get off on and then
tossed aside for some later need.
     The pain in his hand drew his focus from the broken mirror.
Blood dripped from his fingertips onto the carpet as the side of
his hand began to ache.  He grasped it in his left hand and walked
to the bath room and once there, rinsed the cut with running water.
     He once again found himself in front of a mirror, but this
time the face in the mirror responded with only half a smile.  "So
what now?" he thought.   He knew the drying tears had come from a
place deep within himself that was guarded from everyone else,
including himself.  Then how did Tom know of it, how did he see it?
And how did he reach into this space in such a short amount of
time?
     The reflection looked back at him for a moment then the answer
was clear, in front of him.   Tom wanted Joe because he liked what
he saw in Joe, liked what Joe projected to him; pure desire and
attraction.  And with that openness that he'd witnessed, he'd
slipped behind Joe's guard and found a deeper connection.  That's
why, Joe thought, the sex had been so much more than he'd ever
experienced before.  He'd connected with Tom and Tom had shared
that connection and had come looking for more.  Not more sex, more
of the link he'd sensed in their early coupling. He'd said as much
last night on the porch.
     "And all I did was shoot him down.  Fuck!"  The reflection
remained silent at Joe's outburst, but shared in the slow shake of
his head.  Fuck is right, Joe thought, as he grabbed a hand towel
and dried his hand then placed a bandage on the cut.
     He left the bathroom and headed to the kitchen to make some
coffee.
     The coffee brewed as Joe stirred the last of the food together
for the cat.  The back deck showed remnants of a night rain, but
the cat wasn't fazed.   His good morning was normal in its
insistence.  The food delivered, Joe moved to the front porch for
his morning Post.  Then, as he approached the door, he was rocked
by the conviction that it wasn't too late.  He didn't have to lose
the certainty he'd known briefly last night as Tom set a new truth
to voice;  a truth that could be his own again, his truth.  There,
in front of him, lay a path out of his loneliness, a path that
could be honored by himself and hopefully, in time, by Tom . . . if
he'd still want to share thoughts, and feelings . . . maybe more.
     Joe's face lifted in the revelation that he couldn't go wrong
again by asking for another chance.  Then, as suddenly as his joy
had embraced him, his heart sagged with the knowledge that he had
no way of reaching Tom, he didn't even know his last name.
     His head sagged as his shoulders dropped.  "Are you ever a
fuck up or what, Joe Buddy."
     Then he sighed and said to the door, "well, there's always
room for a miracle."
     The door opened to the bright, early morning warmth brought by
the sun.  And there, sitting on the ledge above the start of the
steps, was a mirage dressed like Tom, same clothes as the previous
night, with a cup of Starbucks in either hand.  Tom turned to the
door smiling as Joe stood looking through the screen door, eyes
wide, lips open in a frozen start.
     "Your mouth's open Joe, but I'm starting to like it."
     Breaking through his endless suspended pause, Joe opened the
screen door and stepped into the sunshine.  Tom stood also and
looked up towards Joe, eyes soft and full of longing.  "I realized
as I walked the city last night that you had helped me, in a way,
find a new truth.  And that truth begins with you, if you'll give
me a second chance,"  he stopped, then finished with a slight,
demur smile, "a third chance, I guess."
     Tears spilled down Joe's cheeks as he dipped his head in a
brief nod.  "I guess if nothing else, I had better ask you to join
me."
     "Join you for coffee?"  Tom's smile widened as he held up a
cup.  "Or join you for coffee and maybe a little more?"
     "The second idea has a good sound to it."
     "Yeah, I like it too."  He took the few steps to Joe and with
the back of his hand holding the  cup of warm liquid, he brushed
the tears from Joe's right cheek.  "You look so beautiful right
now, here in this light, this moment.  I want you to hear that Joe
. . . and believe it, if only for this moment right now."  He
leaned towards Joe's face and softly licked Joe's lips, then
brushed his own against Joe's.  His hand again rubbed the cheek as
he leaned back and then watched the warm, brown eyes slowly open.
Tom smiled and blew Joe a soft kiss.
     "I take that as a yes?"  Joe smiled and nodded, eyes
twinkling.  "Good, then I have a question for you."
     Joe tilted his head slightly and flashed a smiling invitation
to Tom.
     "How do you take your coffee?"

                             The End.


       (Write me with comments:  dfilchak@qwest.net)