Date: Tue, 20 Jun 2006 22:27:06 -0600
From: Avy MacGregor <avymac@hotmail.com>
Subject: Jake's Cowboy Part 2

DISCLAIMER: You are about to read a story that is strictly FAN FICTION and
in NO WAY represents true accounts. I do not - nor do I wish to imply that -
I know Jake Gyllenhaal, his private life or his sexual preferences. This is
also true of all other celebrities represented in this story. This is a work
of fiction based in homo-eroticism, so if you are not of legal age, or if
this type of content might offend you, please move onto something else.
-----------------------------------------------------------

And now, PART 2 . . .

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	I awoke the next morning to the sound of knocking. I slowly opened my eyes,
squinting against the bright sunlight streaming in through a gap in the
curtains, and tried to gain a sense of time and place. The knocking
continued. I looked up at the ceiling, then over to the clock radio on the
bedside table. Nine o'clock.
	"Jake!" I heard a muffled voice call.
	Someone was at the door. I tripped out of bed, the sheets tangled around my
legs, and almost fell to the floor. I cursed, ripped the sheets from my
ankles, and stumbled to the door. I pulled it open but saw no one there,
just the empty hallway. I shut the door, confused.
	The knocking continued. I realized then that it was coming from the suite
door which connected my room to Peter and Maggie's. I crossed the plush
carpet in my bare feet, carefully stepping over clothes and empty liquor
bottles along the way. A white-linened room service table sat by the
television armoire, covered in a dozen dirty dishes. The smell of onion
rings and shrimp cocktail permeated the stale air of the room.
	Travis stretched and yawned from the couch, half-asleep, eyes closed. His
presence startled me. He was naked except for a pair of blue checkered boxer
shorts, his hair disheveled, a light shadow of stubble covering his jaw.
When I looked down at my own appearance I discovered that I, too, was clad
only in my boxer briefs.
	What the hell had happened last night? I couldn't remember a goddamn thing.
My head was nothing but peach fuzz.
	The knocking continued, this time more urgently, and suddenly the telephone
started ringing as well, presenting absolute chaos.
	"SHIT! I'M COMING!" I yelled in aggravation, tripping over Travis's cowboy
boots. I yanked open the connecting door and was immediately greeted by
Peter's smiling face, far too chipper for so early an hour. In the
background, I could see Maggie with the phone to her ear. When she noticed
me she quickly hung up, and the ringing in my room ceased.
	"Breakfast time, sunshine," Peter sang, pushing the door open further.
"Maggie wants to go out." And then, sensing something odd in my expression,
he added, "Are you okay?"
	I ran a hand through my hair, holding fast to the door. "I, uh . . ."
	But my words were cut short as Maggie pushed her way into the room,
jokingly insisting that I get my ass moving because she was famished, and
one should never keep a pregnant woman waiting. But she stopped short,
causing Peter to trip into her, his crutch falling to the floor.
	The scene was of Travis stumbling into his blue jeans, trying to stay
upright while fumbling with the buttons of his fly. Maggie and Peter just
stared at him, dumbfounded.
	A long, awkward moment passed.
	I cleared my throat, tried to find my voice. "Peter, Maggie," I began,
gesturing towards the couch. "This is, uh, Travis . . ."
	"H-hi," Maggie stammered. She glanced sideways at me, perplexed.
	"Mornin'," Travis smiled, voice scratchy. He buckled the leather belt
around his waist.
	Peter hesitated a moment as if gathering his thoughts together, and then he
hobbled over to where Travis stood and extended a hand. "Nice to meet ya."
	Travis accepted his handshake. Stood awkwardly for a moment before taking a
seat on the arm of the couch.
	I excused myself and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door
behind me. After taking a much-needed piss, I glanced at my reflection in
the gilded mirror, just as I had done last night before leaving the hotel.
My hair was standing up in directions I had never seen it do before. Dark
circles shadowed my tired blue eyes. And my head felt like an anvil, ready
to fall from my shoulders. I was hung-over. Exhausted. And my recollections
of the evening were dim and somewhat disquieting.
	We had ordered room service. Emptied out the mini bar. Talked about his
family's ranch in Buena Vista and my recent trip to the Academy Awards. He
hadn't seemed the least bit impressed by my stardom, claiming that he rarely
went to the movies. Called himself a "rocky mountain hick boy", which had
amused the hell out of me. The fact that he'd never seen a single one of my
films intrigued me. Made me feel somehow relieved that I was just another
fellow to him.
	We'd talked for hours, just shooting the shit about everything from
snowboarding to woodworking, and I think it was somewhere between the last
small bottle of rum and the last small bottle of tequila that my attraction
to him had become overwhelmingly and painfully obvious. We'd sat together
cross-legged on the floor, sharing the last drops of alcohol, and as I'd
listened to him talk about horse breeding, I'd suddenly become entranced by
the movement of his lips. Perhaps I'd just been really, really drunk . . .
I'm not certain. But I'd mysteriously found myself very desperately wanting
to kiss him, right then and there.
	I had restrained myself . . . I think.
	My head ached when I tried to remember, and I rubbed my temples with my
fingers.
	I recalled saying once, in a magazine interview for 'Brokeback Mountain',
that I wasn't completely opposed to the idea of exploring my sexual options.
It had been a flippant remark - one I hadn't analyzed too deeply at the time
- but now I realized that what I had spoken had been truth; I WASN'T opposed
to the idea of being with a man. The fact that I had selected a
blonde-headed cowboy who embodied certain characteristics of Ennis Del Mar
was immaterial to me at that moment; Travis simply presented an undeniable
intrigue to me, like unchartered territory. My curiosity was peaked.
	Now I was faced with a difficult decision: deny my attraction to him and
walk away, or try to live life on the edge for once, disregarding my
confusion and fear and apprehension in favor of possibly finding a little
happiness.
	It was far too difficult a decision for me to make on such an agonizing
morning.
	I turned the cold water on in the sink and poured myself a glass. I gulped
half of it down in one swallow but managed to only partially relieve my
parched throat.
	If anything HAD occurred between Travis and myself, I had no recollection
of it. The latter part of the evening remained blurred, drained from my
memory like water from a faucet.
	A thick terrycloth bathrobe hung from a hook on the wall, compliments of
the hotel. I pulled it down, slid my arms into it, and exited the bathroom.
Maggie and Peter were still standing together, talking with Travis, who had
pulled his t-shirt on and was now attempting to comb his hair with his
fingers.
	Upon my entrance, Maggie said, "Your friend here's invited us to come along
with you to the ranch."
	Confusion quickly set in. Had Travis and I made plans to go to Buena Vista?
	I looked hesitantly at Travis. He was watching me intently, prodding me
with his eyes to recall our conversation. A very distant memory of his
invitation to snowboard on some remote mountain pass near his ranch came to
mind.
	I glanced over at my snowboard. It stood propped up in the corner, as yet
still unused on this trip.
	"Would you mind if we tagged along?" Maggie asked me, her eyes imploring
mine for any sign of disagreement.
	I shook my head but inwardly screamed a multitude of obscenities. This
wasn't the best time for sibling bonding. I forced a grin, rubbing my
thickly stubbled chin, and said, "Hey, the more the merrier, right?"
	"We should plan to leave soon," Travis interrupted. "It's a pretty long
drive."
	"Well, I guess we'd better get a move on then," I said. I popped a soggy
French fry into my mouth and immediately regretted it.
	Peter and Maggie bid us a temporary farewell and retreated into their room
to pack a few things. As the connecting door closed, I sighed and stood with
hands on my hips, surveying the messy room. "Looks like a tornado hit," I
mumbled.
	Travis had placed his Resistol on his head and was already gathering
clothes and empty bottles from the floor. At my comment, he stopped to look
at me, feigning seriousness. "Your fancy-shit hotel does have housekeeping
services, right?"
	He was a smartass. I had to smile despite my sour mood. "Yeah," I said.
"And I'm hoping my fancy-shit hotel has a truckload of aspirin for my
fucking hangover, too."
	Travis laughed - that deep, infectious laughter, eyes smiling, teeth
flashing. He picked up his cowboy boots and sat down on the edge of the bed
to pull them on. As I watched him slide a foot into each boot, I was
distracted by the curve of muscles lining his biceps and the soft white hair
covering his strong forearms.
	I leaned a hand down against the room service table, suddenly feeling an
odd sensation as if falling from the edge of a cliff . . . floating
downwards, circling slowly through the air, having no idea where I might
eventually land.

				*	*	*	*	*

	The drive to Buena Vista was long but breathtaking: junipers, pinon pines,
leafless aspens, all standing together against an endless blue sky. The sun
reflected brightly against snow-covered hills. A winding river, half-frozen
and covered in patches of ice, raged beneath its icy surface, pushing white
caps against massive boulders.
	I had never seen Colorado in this light. I'd only ever been to Aspen and
Telluride, flying in directly from Denver, never taking the scenic route.
Although California and New York both offered their own unique beauty, this
was. . . well, this was just plain awe-inspiring.
	We had begun our journey two hours ago. Maggie and Peter sat in the
backseat, playing a license plate game like two schoolchildren, giggling and
tickling one another. Maggie seemed in much better spirits now that we were
out of Aspen, and I was glad for the reprieve. Although I understood that it
wasn't her fault, her pregnant misery tended to be miserable for all of us.
It was nice to hear her laughing. I knew that Peter heartily agreed.
	Travis seemed perfectly content driving, as though he traveled long
distances frequently, which I suspected he did. Our morning at the hotel had
been quick. I'd showered and dressed and called down to the concierge to
request an extra razor and toothbrush for Travis. I'd also taken the liberty
of ordering aspirin, dry toast and two very large Bloody Mary's, which had
been promptly and expertly delivered to the room within minutes.
	Travis had been so impressed by the expediency of service and the array of
hangover cures that he had rescinded all previous crass remarks concerning
my "fancy-shit hotel" and claimed The Little Nell to be a pure slice of
heaven.
	Outside of that, very little conversation had passed between us. Although
still bothered by the fact that events of our evening remained foggy in my
mind, I'd decided to keep quiet about it, at least for the time being.
Travis had seemed perfectly content not to discuss it, and so I'd gone about
my business, packing an overnight bag and grabbing my snowboard from its
lonely corner. We'd left the hotel shortly before ten, climbing into
Travis's pick-up truck with Maggie and Peter in tow.
	I finished the last of the energy drink I'd purchased at our pit stop in
Eagle and crumpled the empty can between the palms of my hands. I was
thankful for the caffeine; I was finally starting to feel revived and
somewhat human again. Travis had already finished sucking down a super-sized
coffee and was now contentedly munching on a Power Bar, softly humming along
to the radio.
	Earlier in the ride he had removed his hat and placed it on the seat
between us, and now I absently ran my fingers along its rim, feeling the
hard straw rub against my skin. I subconsciously felt a connection to him,
and upon realization of this quickly pulled my hand away. Travis peered at
me but said nothing.
	We passed through a town called Leadville and then detoured onto a dirt
road, the terrain of which was all at once bumpy as a washboard. Travis
called it a shortcut, expertly traversing the pathway, avoiding potholes and
rocks in the road with ease. But even so, the ride was uncomfortable. I felt
like Jack Twist again, riding on a bucking bull.
	I pressed a hand against the dashboard to steady myself. "I take it you've
driven this before," I commented.
	"Sure have," Travis replied, keeping his eyes pinned to the road.
	Maggie moaned from the backseat, cradling her belly. "I'm sorry guys," she
whimpered, "but if we continue over these bumps I'm going to pee in my
pants."
	"It's not much longer," Travis assured her. "Just over this pass."
	Suddenly, my cell phone rang. It's resonance startled me. I pulled it from
my pocket, flipped it open, and saw that it was my agency calling. I had
been a bad boy since arriving in Aspen, ignoring every single message. I
knew I couldn't keep it up. I had to face the real world eventually.
	"You've reached Jake," I said, and then suddenly fell sideways as Travis
swerved to avoid a small boulder embedded in the middle of the road.
	"Jake?" It was Melissa. "Everything all right? You sound funny."
	Maggie yelped when we dipped into a very deep and very flooded pothole, its
muddy water splashing up against the windows.
	"Jake?" Melissa repeated.
	I righted myself in the seat and gripped the cell phone tighter to my ear.
"Yeah, I'm here. Just driving over a small patch of hell at the moment.
What's up?"
	"You've haven't returned any of my calls." Melissa had been working at the
agency for several years, and in that time I had discovered her personality
to be both congenial and difficult, like two separate ends of a spectrum.
Ying and yang. Right now, she had her disagreeable hat on.
	"Please stop ignoring my calls, Jake," she insisted. "We need to discuss
your schedule, and I've got this script here waiting for you to read."
	"Don't worry, Mel," I assured her. "I'll read it when I get back."
	She was persistent. "Do you have a fax machine in your hotel room? I can
send the script and your media schedule over right now."
	"I won't be back to the hotel until Saturday."
	There was a slight pause as Melissa took in this new information. "Where
will you be? I can fax it to you anywhere you want."
	"I don't think there's a fax machine where we're headed." I glanced over at
Travis, but he seemed oblivious to my conversation, concentrating on the
road in front of him instead.
	Melissa suddenly sounded concerned. "Are you even in Colorado?" she
demanded.
	I laughed, hoping to dispel her anxiety. "Yes, Mel, I'm still in Colorado."
	At that moment, we crested a rise and paused to look down at a valley
spotted with douglas fir and aspen. A vast lake lay in the middle of it,
sunshine sparkling off its half-frozen water like a billion mirror balls, a
small herd of elk grazing languidly near its edge.
	It was a spectacular sight, straight out of a John Fielder photograph.
	Travis pulled over to the side of the road and shut the engine off. Maggie
immediately insisted on getting out to take a picture.
	"Jake?" Melissa said.
	I'd already forgotten her presence on the phone. "Yeah, yeah . . . I'm
here." I pushed open my door and stepped out, surprised by the mild
temperature. Here, the sun was already melting the snow from the trees. A
thin stream of water trickled down the side of the road, heading towards the
lake. Cradling the phone between my chin and shoulder, I shook out of my
coat and threw it in the open bed of the truck.
	"Is everything all right?" Melissa asked.
	I carefully stepped over a mound of snow down to the road. Maggie and Peter
were busily snapping pictures of the valley and of each other standing in
various poses. Travis had disappeared into the trees, a trail of cigarette
smoke following him.
	"Jake?"
	"Hmm . . .?" I slid my sunglasses over my eyes and leaned against the bed
of the truck.
	"Where should I fax this stuff to you?"
	Just then Travis reappeared from the line of trees, buckling his belt and
puffing on a cigarette. The sight of him winded me, as if I had been punched
in the gut.
	I sighed deeply. "Mel," I said, "Let me call you when I know what I'm
doing. Okay?"
	I could tell that she was not happy with my answer, but she managed to
sound amiable anyway. "All right, sunshine. Just PLEASE CALL ME. The sooner
the better."
	"Yes, dear," I promised. We said goodbye and I slid the phone back into my
pocket.
	Travis approached Peter and Maggie and offered to take their picture
together. They stood with arms around each other, faces happy, smiles wide.
Two carefree souls, connected eternally. They were handsome, perfect, full
of love. A relationship to be admired. Something that very few people in
this lifetime ever find.
	I envied them.
	"I think we'd better look for a decent place to piss before moving on,"
Peter said after the camera had been put away. He stepped carefully through
the snow on his crutch, with Maggie holding tight to his waist. I chuckled
at the sight of the two of them struggling up the rise and pulled my cell
phone out to take a picture.
	Travis sauntered over, cigarette between his fingers, and leaned against
the truck close to where I stood. "So what do you think of this place?" he
asked.
	I snapped a picture of him before he could react. "It's fucking amazing," I
said. I watched him take a drag of his cigarette and suddenly craved one
myself. "Got an extra?"
	He plucked a pack of Camels from his shirt pocket and shook one out for me.
Instead of offering me his lighter, he leaned forward and touched the tip of
his burning cigarette to mine. Our hands lightly brushed and an electric
current sailed straight up my arm, causing me to jump back. I pulled the
cigarette from my lips, Travis did the same, and then we stood there looking
at each other through the haze of smoke.
	He whispered something inaudible and reached out to grab my wrist. Slowly
he leaned in towards me, lips parted, a look of stark intensity on his
slightly freckled face. I knew a kiss was coming, but for some stupid reason
I panicked and stepped back, stumbling over a rock beneath my foot, losing
my balance. I reached out a hand to brace myself against the truck and felt
instantly, irrevocably foolish.
	Travis was visibly annoyed by my reaction. He mumbled, "Well, THAT'S
fucking interesting," before flicking his cigarette into a puddle of water
and pushing himself away from the truck. He took a few steps away and kicked
at pebbles in the road until a dust cloud plumed up around him. He squinted
and turned away and stood looking at the ground, his fingers hooked in the
belt loops of his jeans, his hair shimmering golden in the sunlight. As I
watched him, I thought to myself: he's a goddamn beautiful sight . . . and
I'm a stupid goddamn idiot.
	Finally, he lifted his face and looked at me with narrow eyes. "Am I not
understanding something here?" he asked.
	I couldn't find a voice to speak with at first. I swallowed hard, trying to
calm the pounding in my chest. My thoughts swirled like a flurry of
snowflakes, preventing concentration. I silently cursed and bit my lip.
Commanded myself not to screw this up.
	"No," I eventually said, "you're probably understanding everything
perfectly fine. I'M the one who doesn't fucking understand. This . . .
whatever this is," I gestured from myself to him, the cigarette flying
between my fingers, "I can't . . . I don't know what to say. I don't even
know what HAPPENED last night for Christ's sake. Everything's a goddamn
blur."
	"Last night?" Travis said. "You think something happened last night?"
	"Didn't it?"
	He snickered and walked back over to the truck, shaking his blonde head.
With arms crossed, he leaned his shoulder against the door of the cab to
face me and said, "What do YOU think happened last night?"
	I shrugged. Took a drag of my cigarette. "I don't know," I said. "I don't
know what to think. I mean, we were half-naked this morning . . ."
	"Well," he said, cutting me off, "I don't know about you, but I often sleep
in my underwear. Especially when I have no pajamas."
	I smiled at this statement. "Okay, smartass. But even so . . . I feel like
something happened between us. Like . . ."
	"Like?" he prompted, thoroughly enjoying my uneasiness.
	"I don't know . . . like . . . kissing . . . or something."
	Travis smiled devilishly and leaned in closer until I could almost feel his
breath on my face. "Oh, yeah," he whispered to me. "We did a lot of that."
	That's when my stomach dropped as if a lead weight had been placed upon it.
	So my suspicions had been correct afterall; my desire to kiss him had come
to fruition at some point during the night. Sometime during the dreaded
blackout period. Why couldn't I fucking remember it? And what else had
happened?
	Travis sensed my anxiety and tried to calm me by grabbing my hand. "Hey,
don't worry," he said. "We only kissed. Nothing more. Don't look so
concerned, I knew you weren't ready for anything else."
	I sighed and sucked hungrily on the cigarette. I trusted this to be true
only because I couldn't imagine he'd have any reason to lie about it.
	"You really don't remember?" he asked.
	I shook my head. "Not a goddamn thing."
	He studied me for a moment, green eyes probing into mine. Then he glanced
up to the spot where Maggie and Peter had disappeared to. Decided that the
coast was clear and quickly pushed me up against the truck to drown me in a
kiss. I was so startled I didn't know how to react at first. Just stood
there like a stone statue.
	He cupped my face in his hands to bring me in closer and shoved his tongue
into my mouth, hungrily sucking until I could feel saliva forming at the
edges of my lips. It was a kiss like nothing I had ever experienced before.
Not even the infamous one between Jack and Ennis, which, despite Heath
almost breaking my nose, had been quite exhilarating in itself.
	The taste of Travis's mouth felt familiar to me. Suddenly a recollection of
last night flashed before my eyes like lightning flickering into a darkened
room - a memory of the two of us sitting on the floor of the hotel room
facing one another. The palms of our hands pressed to the carpet as our
bodies leaned into one another. Our mouths opening to engage in a long,
sensuous kiss.
	My senses fully awakened at this memory, and I pinched the cigarette
between my fingers to pull Travis closer, embracing him tightly until I
could feel the hardness in his jeans rubbing up against my own. The most
amazing sensation I had ever encountered - unlike anything I could ever have
imagined.
	I involuntarily let out a deep-throated moan, completely beside myself.
	Then, just as quickly as he had pulled me to him, Travis let me go,
spinning around on his heels and stepping away. I followed his gaze and
noticed Maggie and Peter slowly making their descent back down to the road.
	Shit, how could I possibly explain this?
	Travis cleared his throat and ran a nervous hand through his hair. I
remained by the truck, sucking on my cigarette with a shaking hand. I
silently prayed for my erection to go down quickly and tried to find a less
noticeable position to stand in.
	Peter and Maggie approached the truck, stomping snow from their feet.
	"I cannot believe I just peed squatting down in a forest," Maggie
complained.
	"Well, being a man does have its attributes, my love," Peter teased,
playfully pulling on her arm. She thumped him on the chest.
	Their light-hearted disposition confused me; either they were choosing to
play dumb or they truly hadn't witnessed the kiss. The latter seemed
doubtful to me, for their view of the truck from the tree line had been
fantastic. But I decided to play the charade with them anyway, feigning
blissful ignorance.
	"You've never pissed in a forest before, Mags?" I teased.
	She gave me her famous middle-finger-touching-her-ass-cheek trick, and
Peter and I both "ooohhed" and "aaahhed" at her cleverness. She noticed the
cigarette in my hand and immediately stomped over to me. "Are you actually
SMOKING, Jacob Benjamin?"
	I purposefully took a drag and blew the smoke up above her head, grinning.
"Yes I am, mother dear."
	Her nose crinkled as though the stench of dirty diapers was in the air. She
pulled the digital camera from her pocket and pointed it at me. "Say cheese,
big guy."
	I grinned foolishly, holding the cigarette up to my mouth like Groucho
Marx. She took the picture and previewed it on the screen. "Mom's sure to
LOVE this one," she taunted.
	Travis peeked over her shoulder, viewed the photo, and agreed that it was
quite amusing. Then he pulled open the driver's side door of the truck, slid
behind the wheel, and said, "I hate to break up the party, but we really
should get going."
	As the engine roared to life, Maggie, Peter and I quickly scrambled to get
inside the cab. Travis shifted into drive and warned us to hold on tight as
tires spun against the washboard road. A spray of pebbles and dirt and mud
kicked up behind us as we took off in the direction of the valley below, the
shimmering lake blinding our way.


-----------------------------------------------------------
Brokeback Mountain copyright 1997 by Dead Line, Ltd. / 2005 Focus Features
LLC
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Well, there's part two for you! Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I
enjoyed writing it. Again, I encourage your comments/suggestions. You can
reach me at avymac@hotmail.com. I can also be found occasionally at MSN
Group: http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalEncounter/_whatsnew.msnw. It's a
GREAT site for all Gyllenhaal fans. (And if you haven't read `The Gyllenhaal
Encounter' by Chris yet, I highly suggest that you do!)

Until next time,
- Avy