Date: Sat, 6 May 2006 22:50:46 -0700 (PDT)
From: John Gerald <connectwriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Connections 1

Brad practically ran through the foyer doors and quickly unrolled the scarf
from around his neck, relieved to be out of the bitter blasts of December
wind.  He wasn't sure exactly why he came for his old company's holiday
party, and thought that he might still bail out.  But curiosity, his friend
Nancy and free eats got the best of him.

Not that he didn't enjoy the job, or hadn't made some friends that summer.
Going home to his increasingly hostile parents wasn't really an option, so
when he snagged a plum summer job the decision was easy.  He had actually
liked working in the legal department.  Energy and drive were in ample
supply, as the company was still not that far from its start-up roots.
There were lots of different kinds issues that came up, from intellectual
property to stock distribution to lease deals for renting space, and they
all interested him.  He wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to be in-house or
in a law firm, but it definitely confirmed his aspiration to become a
lawyer.

But this company was the past, and Brad had a lot of good reasons not to be
sentimental.  Some of the past wasn't so fun, but the future...a guy could
change that.  Even though he liked the job, he knew it wasn't where he was
going with his life and wanted to move on.  Of course, since he wasn't ever
going back, there were a few hotties there who he could now pursue without
any kind of workplace awkwardness.

He joined his friend Nancy Weber, the former co-worker who had roped him
into going.  The met right on time outside of the coat check and escorted
each other into the main hall, arm and arm, as she joked about being his
"beard" for the night.  She was one of the few people he was out to at the
firm and she was completely comfortable with his gay part, after she had
suppressed her own crush on him.  Besides the food, she held out the
enticement of fresh meat in the software development department for Brad.
She knew that would get him.

It has been a hugely successful year for the company and it seemed like
there were a million tables in the main hall.  They placed themselves for
maximum viewing advantage near the dance floor where they could easily
check out the hot guys and joke about who had the best chance with them.

Before that, though, they hit the food line.  It was an incredible spread,
way beyond the meat-and-potatoes of most Midwestern buffets.  Since the
company had a lot of Asian employees, there was a huge selection of
Chinese, Indian and Malaysian food, in addition to the American staples
like Roast Beef and Chicken -- and designer Pizza.  Brad had gone out to
lunch with some of these foreign employees and had developed a taste for
satay chicken, roti prata, randang beef and other southeast asian foods.
And he could go toe-to-toe with them in eating the spicy stuff.  He as
careful not to put away too much, though.  A full stomach seemed to inhibit
his libido, and he wanted to stay hungry this evening to really make it
worth it.

As the evening wore on they evolved a finger rating system for guys, one
finger being total stud and sliding down from there.  "Brad, what about
that one?"  She pointed to a medium height, well-built blond guy.  The
music had just started and a few people had moved onto the dance floor and
he was just moving out with a very busty, drunk date.  "umm, well..." Brad
held up three and a half fingers.

"Not higher?  She was clearly smitten, and was ready with a five.

"nah, I dunno, dyed hair, looks dumb, kinda slutty date."

"Well, we've become picky, haven't we?  Since when has dumb become bad?
And what's wrong with slutty?"  They both laughed, as he moved closer and
put his arm around her shoulder.

 "Lucky for you, slutty will never go out of style," he whispered, and got
a nice knock in the ribs as a reward.

After a few minutes break she motioned at another guy a few tables away,
but Brad didn't respond.  She just saw him staring, and followed his eyes
to a couple out on the floor who were terrific dancers.  The guy was kind
of cute, thought he didn't look like the hirsute, Neanderthal jock types
that she thought Brad liked.  Besides, he was probably straight and she
knew that Brad didn't like to waste time on unattainable guys.  But this
time he seemed unusually distracted.

To Brad it did seem like just another beautiful straight couple
dancing. But the way the guy carried himself was mesmerizing to him.  He
looked confident and self assured, but at the same time was very focused on
his partner.  Brad thought the guy was pretty good in the looks department,
too.  Slim, maybe a bit on the wiry side, with an angular jaw and lean,
defined features, and with a tight, sweaty white shirt and dark slacks that
showed off his trim body. These partnered hetero guys were such a turn-on
to him, just so innocent and fuckable in their monogamy and straightness.

But there was more to it than looks.  Something about this guy hit a spot
in Brad.  He was good looking, that's for sure.  But he wasn't model or
anything like that.  And while he probably had a really nice body under
that tight shirt, he wasn't any kind of muscle boy or jock, either.  A lot
of it wasn't about how he looked but how he acted, especially toward his
partner.  He wasn't your typical straight guy, staring at her tits or
furtively feeling her up to play macho for a big audience.  They were out
there together, having fun, thinking about each other.

The guy seemed pretty serious the whole time, but when they missed a tag
and she flew between and beyond his legs to a dead stop, Brad saw the
smile.  He wasn't sure he'd ever seen one quite like it, but this guy's
smile could light up the room all by itself.

He had to admit that there weren't a lot of those smiles though, and he
wondered why.  The guy seemed content and all, and was really into what he
was doing, but there also seemed something limiting him, constraining him.
Like it leaked out at that one mishap, but was quickly back under control.
On the other hand, maybe he was just thinking too much about this guy.

"Hey Brad boy, you awake there?"  She gave him another poke to the ribs.
Even though she knew he was gay, she never missed an excuse to touch him or
feel him up "accidentally."

"Uh, oh yea, sorry.  Just watching that couple dancing.  They're really
good."

"Yea, I know what's really good..." She gave him cynical smirk.

"There you go, mind in the gutter again."  He only slightly acknowledged
her but kept looking at the couple. "I don't know, I guess it's not just
that the guy is cute.  It's just that they seem so happy, so together."  He
sat back and folded his hands in front of him, getting a bit more relaxed,
and, in a certain way, resigned.

"God, that's great.  She's a lucky girl."  He spoke very quietly, in a way
that surprised Nancy.  "Did you notice how he looks at her."

"What, so?"  She said with complete bafflement.

"Doesn't it do something for you?"

"Me? Naw.  Maybe he's just not my type."

"it's not about what type he is.  It's just two people who seem to connect
that's all.  Even if they're straight."  Brad never took his eyes off of
them.

"That's right, and you remember that, stud.  The chances of that guy
playing for your team are infinitesimally small, so don't get too hung up."

"Yea, you're right.  I don't know, something about him or them, or jeze, I
dont' know what it is.  Sorry. I'll try to get back to reality here."  She
noticed that he kept looking out at the couple, but was slumped down just a
little bit.

The objects of his staring, Mike Kovar and Julie Novak, were really working
the room.  It was hard to imagine that two people could be so much in sync
and so much alive, turning and twisting around each other like human
tornadoes.  Brad wasn't the only one who thought so, either.  When they
were on the floor you hardly noticed that anyone else was there.

As he reeled her in, he would shoot her between his legs and she would pop
up behind him, turn around, and then roll over his back by doing a
somersault over his head.  It wasn't pretty sometimes -- they were rough
and tumble, improvising as they went, more hip-hop than opera.  But it was
a great show.

Their intensity was part of the special relationship that they had, a
mutual affection and dedication that was beyond friendship.  In fact, it
was at one time also a romantic love for Julie -- for this boy that she had
watched turn into a man, that shy but friendly kid who had just arrived
from Europe.  Unusual for the boys, he gladly welcomed her into her first
ethnic dance class at the local fraternal club, the Sokol, and was glad to
be her partner.

As they grew older, she was crushed when he told her that he couldn't
return her romantic feelings for him.  And in true Mike fashion, it
actually devastated him more than her, knowing the connection that they had
and how it had clearly hurt her.  But finally, after much turmoil and
struggle it forced him to face the truth about the feelings that he had for
so long.  Though they were as close as two friends could be, it would be
the first important divergence in their young lives.

But that didn't stop them the dancing together.  It was something that they
had both grown up with, and they would always be each others best partners.
They had been paired now for 12 years, practically forever for people as
young as them, and knew each others foibles and secrets as much as most
married couples, not to mention an uncanny ability to anticipate the others
next moves out on the floor.

Another interested spectator, Roger Kaminsky, Julie's fiancé, smiled to no
one in particular, admitting that dancing was the one area where he
couldn't ever make Julie happy, though he more than compensated for it in
other ways.  As a 6'-4", 245 pound defensive tackle on the football team,
he wasn't exactly light on his feet, he had to admit.  But in his role as
`manager' of this duo, he tagged along and got to crash the company parties
and events where Julie and Mike hired themselves out as ringers, or more
precisely real dancers, to liven the party up when most of the people
attending couldn't dance at all.

They would do east coast swing or wild tango or jitterbug or just about
anything that would juice up the crowd.  It was a great gig, since they
loved to dance, enjoyed each other's company and made money for school.  In
that sense, it also clearly reflected their attitudes. Both of them decided
that they didn't want the dishwasher or clerk jobs that most kids took, and
were going to set their own agenda as much as possible when he came to how
they would make their money.  Tonight's crowd was a tough one, as software
companies don't exactly draw a wild group of partiers.

Other than that, this particular night in early December was pretty
typical, part of Mike and Julie's high season where they had to work almost
every night to make up for the fallow months ahead.  Though the engineers
and assorted spouses and partners were not the party animals that you might
find at an advertising agency affair, it must be said that they did more
than held their own in the drinking department.  With the good fortune that
one of their products had gotten picked up by Nokia for their latest
smartphone, they had tons of money to throw at a blowout party at the big
Convention Center downtown.

There was a break on the dance floor when Brad decided that it was a good
time to take a leak.  Being an intermission, lots of other guys had the
same idea so the john was pretty crowded.  Spying the last open urinal in
the corner, Brad took the spot and was unzipping his fly when the urinal
next to his became open.  And who would then come stand next to him but
that hot guy he saw out on the dance floor.  Suddenly, Brad became tense.

He was almost never nervous around cute guys, especially straight ones.  He
rarely felt intimidated or threatened.  But something was happening with
this guy that he didn't understand.

For about the first time he could remember, he suddenly became pee-shy.  He
tried everything he could, including staring at the wall in front of him,
looking up, closing his eyes, looking at the wall to his side, nothing
seemed to help. 'This guy probably thinks I'm some kind of weirdo, not
tinkling a bit,' he thought to himself, but could not get the pee out.  He
was even starting to sweat.  Thank God, they weren't alone in there, the
silence would be deafening.  He's not even sure he heard this guy do his
peeing, but was totally relieved when he zipped up and went to the sink.

Brad was becoming real self conscious at this point.  He'd already
outlasted one guy at the urinal, maybe people would think he's cruising the
john, which made him even more self-conscious.  He did have his pride, and
cruising bathrooms was only for the most desperate as far as he was
concerned.  Finally, after what seemed like hours of torture, but was only
about a minute, he was able to get relief.  It was one of the longest pees
he ever took.  He couldn't figure out what made him lock up, but it
definitely had something to do with that guy.

When the first intermission ended Mike and Julie resumed their magic out on
the floor.  But this night was to be different than other nights, and not
in a good way.  Imbibing geeks are generally harmless, but there was a big,
mid-thirties refrigerator of a guy, over 6' tall and as big as a house, who
put Mike on edge. This guy was clearly bombed, so thought nothing of
dancing around the floor wildly by himself.  For him it was funny to rudely
bump into people, both accidentally and purposefully, especially the good
looking women.  As people got wise to the act he become like one of those
magnets in science class that repels all the metal particles around it,
moving people away in direct proportion to his proximity to them.

His focus on the good looking women made Julie a particularly inviting
target.  A petite blond and a formidable enemy if she didn't like you, her
looks were probably a major part of the reason they had so many good
parties.  She and Mike were taking a break after another exhausting hour of
dancing, with both of them practically soaked through with sweat.  Mike had
gone to get them some water when this guy stumbled over to her and leered,
close enough that she could smell his Johnny Walker breath. Closer and
closer he inched himself.

Brad saw this scene unfolding and became concerned.  He had seen this big
guy last summer, his name was Donald something-or-other.  He didn't really
know `Big Don,' as he called him, but he sure didn't like him right now.
It looked like no one had noticed his threatening of this woman when he
started to get out of this seat.

"whoa, boy," Nancy tugged on his jacket.  "Don't make someone else's
problem into yours."

"Nancy, I can't just sit here.  She looks scared."

"Yes you can!" she ordered.  "Let her boyfriend take care of it."

Mike was returning with bottles of water for both of them when he noticed
what was going on.  He quickly ran back over to Julie who was now on the
edge of the floor, pushing several people out of his way as he scrambled
over.  Gently sliding her to the side, he inserted himself in between them.
The big guy, who towered over Mike, was not pleased.

Brad held back, seeing how this guy had come up to defend his partner, but
still kept an eye on them both.  He saw trouble coming.

"Sorry guy," Mike said, looking right at the guy and not backing down an
inch.  "It looks like you've had a lot to drink and my partner here needs a
break, so I'd appreciate it if you'd give her a bit of a breather, OK?"

"Oh yea, man, like sorry, didn't mean to fuck around with anyone, ya know?
I thought you might be queer, you dance so good. Thought that maybe she
wanted a real man."

Mike felt flush when the guy said this.  He always worried about betraying
himself, even though he knew that at this point it was just a figure of
speech, though a provocative one for sure.

"OK, man, I'll go.  There's just one thing I wanted to mention to ya."  The
guy was starting to turn away, but as he got about half way around he
suddenly reversed himself and then...BAM!

He wound up and punched Mike square in the face, sending him flying 15'
away and toward Brad, knocking down a table and sending screaming guests
fleeing.

"Sorry, fucker, but I kind of like the lady, and just wanted to say hello,"
the drunk said with a sly grin, wiping his slobbering mouth with a filthy
booze-soaked sleeve.

Mike struggled to get to his feet, even though he could barely tell where
he was.  Fortunately, the table had cushioned some of his fall, or he would
have been hurt much worse. He crawled around for what seemed like an
eternity, trying to orient himself and feeling a sharp pain in the side of
his face.  Using all his strength he was barely able to get one knee off of
the ground.

Everyone in the area had scattered as they saw Mike reeling toward them and
crash into the table, including Nancy, who was among the first to bolt.
But Brad didn't flinch.

He didn't even know Mike, he just knew that this guy had tried to defend
his partner but now needed help himself.  Brad quickly moved over to him,
placing his hands under Mike's arms, trying to lift and steady him as he
was making a sputtering recovery.  Besides getting hammered in the face,
the crash into the table had really messed him up, but Brad could see how
he wasn't giving in to the pain.  This guy didn't look it but he was tough.

Mike felt two strong hands helping him from behind.  Whoever it was, he was
definitely strong, and it was all that was between him and a further tumble
onto the floor.  Somehow, and in a weird way, it gave him more strength,
feeling this guy helping him up.  The grip was steady and sure, though he
hardly made a sound and didn't say anything.  But just is looked like the
bracing was having some success, he caught something ominous out of the
corner of his eye.

Brad was also stunned when he realized that Big Don was marching toward
them. It was all unreal to him -- the asshole had sucker punched this brave
guy, and was now going after him, wounded and defenseless. The guy was huge
and Brad was afraid, both for Mike and himself, but there was no way he was
going to abandon him.  "Stay put, bud," he said as he gave Mike a quick
squeeze to the neck. "I'll be right back," not knowing for sure whether
that would prove true.

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, knowing full well the
consequences of what could happen if he wasn't successful.  But he knew
that he had to do something -- and fast!  It was fight or flight, and he
chose fight.

He stepped over and stood his ground in front of Mike, who only saw that
some guy just moved between him and the goon, and the goon seemed a lot
bigger.  Brads arms were down at his side, his legs spread apart slightly,
both fists clenched.  His stiff jaw moved slightly to one side.  Unlike
Mike, he was prepared for trouble.

Mike wanted to grab this guy, whoever he was, and put him behind him.  It
was his fight, after all. But he was helpless and knew it, barely being
able to keep himself upright let alone defend himself and someone else.
Yet he wouldn't give up, and summoned whatever tiny amount of strength he
had left to slowly get to his feet.

Brad glared at Don and barked.  "Back off!"

Don returned the look. "Ha!  You little shithead North , gonna defend the
beaten hero?  Why, I'll take care of you right now!

The big guy threw a punch at Mike, who expertly blocked it, definitely
surprising Big Don.

Brad had wanted to give the guy a chance before he acted.  One chance to
avoid a fight.  He hated doing this kind of thing, but knew that there was
no choice here.  The big guy definitely wasn't prepared for this one,
probably because of all the booze he'd put away but also because Brad knew
what he was doing.  Big Don thought that he could just swat him like a fly,
but in reality he didn't have a chance.

After that it was all a blur to the anxious spectators.  Brad quickly
connected a right hook squarely on the guy's jaw, stopping him in his
tracks.  But he knew he couldn't give him any time to recover, and quickly
followed with a left to the other side of his face, putting everything he
could muster behind it.

He heard a crack and knew he had done some serious damage to the jaw, but
also felt a sting in his own hand.  It was the end of the line for the big
guy, though.  In a completely dazed state he managed to totter around for a
while, one leg crossing over the other, miraculously keeping afloat.  But
after a couple rotations the force of gravity finally caught up with him.
With all of the fat, his landing was more like a splash than a thud, but he
was exactly where Brad wanted him.

There was no time for him to enjoy the victory, however, even if he'd
wanted to.  He glanced back and saw that Mike had gotten to his feet,
barely.  Instinctively, he knew that Mike couldn't make it on his feet and
rushed over to catch him just before he collapsed again.  Looking directly
at his face he saw the wet, straight brown hair pasted to his forehead, and
for a brief moment their eyes locked.

 Brad was lost in the moment until he heard "Did...did he hurt you?" from a
still struggling Mike.

"I'm OK."  He replied with urgency.

"Good...."  Mike was barely able to utter the word, and then he passed out.

The comment stunned him.  God, how could this guy, who just got pounded,
still be thinking of someone else?  Brad wondered if he could ever feel
that selfless about anyone.  It never occurred to him that he had done
something equally selfless when he stuck it out as everyone fled.  He just
knew that he had to do it.

While finding himself in what he thought of as the unlikely position of
Good Samaritan, he couldn't help but notice that Mike really did have a
nice body, feeling the taut muscles beneath the sweat-soaked shirt as he
propped him up.  At 6'-1" and 175 solid pounds, Brad was a bit bigger than
Mike, maybe an inch taller and 15 or so pounds heavier.  But it was still
difficult to keep him upright, as he was so wet that Brad's grip was
starting to slip.  Not only that, but for some reason he couldn't get a
good hold with his left hand.  Fortunately, a couple of other guys then
came over to help and together they took Mike out into the adjacent
hallway.

Roger had been outside getting a sweater out of the car for Julie,
returning just as Brad had landed his successful punches.  This was Don's
lucky break, as Roger wouldn't have stopped at two punches even if the guy
was down and out.  But knowing that there was no more trouble coming from
his direction, Roger found a frazzled Julie and spent a moment to calm her
down, reassuring her and making sure that she was still in one piece
mentally.

Together they went into the hallway and pushed their way through the crowd,
finally reaching Mike. With urgency in their voices, they asked everyone,
including Brad, who was holding Mike up in a chair, to stand back so that
he could get air.  Julie had wet a napkin from the water bottle that Mike
had gotten her and was just wiping his forehead when he stirred from the
slumped position, looking around left and right, not knowing where he was.
He was clearly groggy and started to say something in Czech, but as he got
oriented and realized where he was he caught himself and spoke in English.

He looked up at her. "Julka -- uh - you OK?"  Using a Czech version of her
name in a place like this betrayed his confusion.  He was a little stunned
when he noticed all the people around.

"Jeze, me, I'm fine!"  She almost chuckled.  "But what about you? You took
a shot from that fucking asshole!  You OK?"

Ohhh, man, uh...I think so...God, my head hurts....fuck, and the side of my
face."  He buried his head in his hands, trying to get his bearings and
figure out if he could stand up.

To Mike, it was all just a blur.  He remembered trying to get to his feet
and seeing the big guy coming at him, then someone stepping in between
them.  The next thing he knew, some guy with incredible brown eyes was
holding him up.  He somehow felt warm in the guy's arms, but he was too
anxious about Julie to enjoy it.

"Just sit down there and get your head together, Mike.  No more dancing
tonight.  In fact, maybe we ought to take you to University Hospital to get
you checked out"

She turned to Roger and said quietly, "remember to watch his eyes
carefully."

"I know, babe.  I will," No one else could hear them as they spoke softly
but urgently to each other.

"Ahhhh......Mike then stretched back, letting his head rest on the back of
the chair.  "I don't think so, at least right now.  I think I'll be OK....I
just need to get out of here and get some air...owwww."  He winced as he
said this, with the throbbing pain increasing in his jaw.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught site of Brad, who was standing off
to the side of Julie but looking intensely at Mike as he gained
consciousness.  Even in that brief moment that Mike saw him before passing
out, his dark curly hair and brown eyes had burned themselves into his
mind.  He wanted to say something to him, but was too distracted by the
pain in his jaw and the fact that Julie wanted him out of there as soon as
possible.

"You sure do need to blow this place, dude" Roger said, "but you aren't
driving anywhere.  Give Jules your motorcycle keys, and I'll drive you home
in our car.  When we get to the other end I can carry you out if I have to
and Jules can park your bike."  Mike had actually leaned to drive a
motorcycle from Julie, and it was his vehicle of choice for local driving.

As Roger started to help him get up, Julie approached Brad.  "Hey guy,
thanks for standing up for Mike.  That was really great of you," Then she
got up on her tip-toes and gave him a kiss on the forehead and hugged him.
"Thanks so much."

"No problem, you're welcome.  I didn't really do much, but I hope he'll be
OK."  He said this with a sincere modesty that practically made her jaw
drop.

"You did a lot!" she retorted and smiled.

By the way, my name is Julie Novak." She outstretched her right hand to
meet his and gave him the firmest grasp that he ever got from a woman.

"Brad North.  I'm glad to meet you.  Hey, I hope that you're OK, too."

"Me? Oh, I'm fine.  I get over this kind of stuff fast.  But thanks again,
Brad.  We've got to get Mike out of here right now, but I hope we see you
around," She and Roger carefully walked a wobbly Mike toward the exit at
the end of the hall.  Just as they got to the exit, she realized that she
should have gotten Brad's number to thank him again later, but when she
turned around he was gone.

But Brad couldn't stay any longer.  He was glad that this guys friend, and
for all he knew girlfriend, was there to help him.  But when he had to give
up his ministering role he couldn't face being there anymore.  It was
almost a heartbreaking to him.  And why he felt this way he couldn't
understand.  But he just had to get out of there.  Giving Nancy only the
briefest of goodbyes, he was gone.

When Brad got home he had a lot on his mind.  He started the evening going
to this event with the ulterior motive of maybe trolling for some cock, and
he did see a few potential hookups.  At one time, that was all he wanted,
or at least it sated him temporarily. But right now he had something else
bothering him.  He tried to sort out the people and was a little confused
about who the big guy with Julie was, the guy who was going to drive Mike
home.

Not that it mattered much, he'd probably never see them again, especially
since he bolted right after talking to Julie and making sure her friend was
OK.  But he thought about it.  Anyway, his left hand hurt like hell and he
thought that he should maybe put some ice on it.

When he finally made it into his bedroom, he kicked of his shoes and lay
back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he clutched an ice bag tightly.
He thought that for sure this guy was straight and probably in some
relationship with that woman he was dancing with, so he wrote off any kind
hookup.  Yet he couldn't get his mind off this guy.  Who was he?  And who
was she?

What really affected him was how they were connected to each other.  Even
among the married couples he knew, he never saw or sensed anything much
like this.  They had something special.  In spite of all the things that
some people said about him, and what he sometimes thought about himself,
that was what Brad really wanted, too.  A connection.

Oh, and those blue eyes.  Who could forget those?