Date: Fri, 26 Mar 1999 19:06:53 -0500
From: Greg Eckhardt <eckhardt@injersey.com>
Subject: Dorm Shower Lover - Part 6

Hello All,

At long last, here is the sixth and final part of my story.

As always, please send me any comments you may have.  I love to hear from
guys who have read my stuff.  My e-mail address is eckhardt@injersey.com.

Please note that this story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to
actual persons or events is coincidental.  It is intended for adults who
are not offended by descriptions of male/male sexuality.  Do not read it if
you are under legal age in your area or if you are offended by such
material.

You are free to copy this story for your own use, but please do not modify
it in any way or republish it in any forum.  Thank you.

     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Dorm Shower Lover
By Greg Eckhardt

Chapter 6

The semester was already more than half over when I crossed paths with Jeff
again.  On an otherwise ordinary Monday afternoon, I had stopped for lunch
in Brower Commons, having finished with my morning classes down in Voorhees
Mall.  I was done eating and just about to leave when I noticed Jeff
sitting alone at a table on the far side of the cavernous dining hall.  It
was a small surprise to see him.  I certainly hadn't forgotten him, but I
had begun to assume that he had indeed transferred to another school.

Jeff didn't see me, so I could've slipped away unobserved, which was a
tempting proposition.  Did I really want to start anything with him again?
Treacherously, the baser side of my nature answered with a resounding
affirmative.  Hoping that it wasn't too much of a mistake, I decided to go
over and say hello.

While I picked my way through the crowded tables, Jeff started to get up.
He stood there a moment, packing up his knapsack and putting the refuse
from his lunch onto a tray.  As I moved up beside him, he still didn't
realize I was there, so I took a moment to drink him in.

He was as gorgeous as ever.  Wearing sharply-creased, pin-striped gray
slacks held up by suspenders, a white dress shirt set off with a maroon
paisley tie, and freshly-polished black oxfords, he looked like a wet-dream
version of a young stockbroker.  As I watched, he put on a suit jacket that
matched the trousers.  He had his glossy black hair neatly combed, which
was a rarity for him.  His goatee was also immaculately trimmed.  He was
obviously decked out to impress someone.  Seized by the illogic born of
jealousy, I thought right away of Susan, the lucky wench who had been his
girlfriend since high school.

Over the din of conversation around us, I cleared my throat noisily to give
him warning, then called out, "Hey, Jeff!"

He turned in my direction, slightly startled.  Recognizing me, he instantly
flashed that dazzling smile of his.  "Hi, Craig!  How're you doin'?"

Slinging the knapsack over one shoulder and balancing the lunch tray in his
left hand, he extended his right hand to me.  We shook.  His grip was firm
and I responded in kind.  Our hands remained clasped for perhaps a fraction
of a second longer than necessary for the greeting.  His eyes held me in
that piercing gaze that I knew so well.

"Fine, just fine.  How about you?"  I replied, sinking into those sapphire
pools.

"Great.  So what have you been up to?"

"Oh, the usual: Up to my neck in schoolwork and all that."  I shrugged, not
willing to go into detail there.

"Same here."

"You're looking sharp," I said, pointedly eyeing him up and down.  "Got a
date?"

He laughed.  "Oh, no.  I'm just headed to an interview for kind of an
internship over the winter break."

"Hey, that's great.  Good luck."

"Thanks," he said.  After a pause, he added, his tone suddenly more
serious, "Listen.  I've really got to get going.  I'm probably going to be
late as it is."

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

"No, it's okay.  I just don't want you to think that I'm blowing you off.
I'm glad we ran into each other.  I'd really like to get together and catch
up."

"Sure, that'd be great."

"Okay, then.  Let me have your number, and I'll give you a call so we can
set it up."

He set down the tray and fished a slip of paper and a pen out of his
knapsack.  Ripping the paper in half, he gave me a piece along with the
pen.  After I scrawled my number on the paper and handed both items back to
him, he wrote his own number on the other scrap and gave it to me.

"All right," he resumed, "I'll give you a call tonight.  Will you be
around?"

"I should be, yeah."

"Great.  I'll talk to you later then.  Bye!"  Saying that, he charged away
towards the exit.

"Okay, bye."

I watched him as he rushed off.  What was I getting myself into?

            * * *

The rest of the day I was nervous and excited.  Had I consumed a gallon of
espresso, I would have been less jittery.  As it was, I bounced around on
an adrenaline high.  It was fortunate that all my classes were done for the
day because I was totally incapable of sitting still and concentrating.

After lunch I headed back to my room, where I tried unsuccessfully to do
some studying.  My roommate was absent and the dorm was exceptionally
quiet, which would have made for ideal conditions under other
circumstances.  I went through the motions of sitting at my desk and
opening my books, but it was all to no avail.  The pages in my notebook
stared up at me blindly.  They could not distract me from thinking of Jeff.

Certain that I was destined for more heartbreak, I wanted him nonetheless.
It was patently self-destructive to pursue him, but I didn't care.  The
whole scandalous affair with Mitch had shown me that my true feelings had
not changed.  If the only way I could have Jeff was on his terms, then so
be it.  Love doesn't read price tags, and it won't accept substitutions.

The afternoon dragged on unmercifully.  I glared at the clock every five
minutes, cursing its plodding numbers.  When five o'clock came, I went over
to the dining hall for an early dinner, not because I was the least bit
hungry, but simply for something to do.  I returned to my room less than a
half-hour later, having only nibbled a few bites.  Changing clothes and
tidying up the room killed a few minutes.  Then I parked myself in front of
the TV, flipping channels aimlessly.

The phone rang at the stroke of eight o'clock.  It was fortunate that John
had come in and gone out without lingering, so I could take the call in
private.  I picked up the receiver tremulously.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hi, Craig?"  It was Jeff.

I took a quick breath and tried to keep my voice steady.  "Yeah.  Jeff?"

"You got it.  What's up?"

I refrained from reading into that question, saying simply, "Not much.  I'm
just studying."  So I lied.  He didn't need to know that I'd been sitting
around pining for him all evening.

"I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Not at all," I said, truthfully this time.  "So how'd your interview go?"

"Pretty well, I think.  I'll find out at the end of the week if I got the
job."

"That's good."

"So what have you been doing with yourself?"

I really wished he'd quit it with the double-entendres, however
unintentional they might be.  Not knowing what else to say, I found myself
repeating what I'd said earlier, "Oh, the usual: Keeping up with schoolwork
and all that.  I can't say I've done anything exciting in a while."  Mitch
popped into my mind, but I wasn't about to mention him to Jeff.  Instead, I
asked, "How 'bout you?"

"Pretty much the same," he said, then added wearily, "This semester's been
tough.  I've got some hard classes this time around.  That's been keeping
me busy."

"I hear ya," I said sympathetically.  "Been there, done that.  But this
year hasn't been too bad.  I'm busy, but not overwhelmed."

"I'm going nuts.  Thank God, we're almost done.  I'm only hoping next
semester will be better."

"Amen, brother!" I shouted with my best evangelical intonation.

He chuckled, then asked, "D'you do anything special over the summer?"

"Oh, not really.  Basically, I just hung out at home.  I got a job at the
mall, which was boring as hell, but the money was decent.  You might think
it's dumb, but I did get together with some friends from high school and we
played Dungeons & Dragons every week.  That was fun."

"Hey, that's cool.  There's nothing wrong with that.  What have I told you
about being down on yourself?" he said in a mock-scolding tone.  Heaving a
sigh, he went on, with unexpected gravity, "It's definitely more fun than I
had.  My summer was really rough."

"What happened?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

"That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about when we get together.  I
really don't want to go into it over the phone."

"Oh," was all I could manage to utter.  It sounded ominous.

"So when are you free?"

"How 'bout tomorrow night?" I said quickly, too curious to affect
restraint.

"Sounds good.  You wanna go for dinner somewhere?"

"Okay.  You like Old Man Rafferty's?"

"Yeah, I love that place."

"Good.  What time?"

"How 'bout we meet there at eight?" he proposed.

"That works for me," I agreed, sounding too eager to my own ears.

"Okay then.  I'll see you there tomorrow at eight."

"I'll be there."

"Great.  Have a good night."

"Yeah, you too.  Bye."

"Bye."

As I hung up the phone, I found myself tossed between excitement and dread.
Jeff had sounded like his old self at the start of our conversation, but
when he mentioned this past summer, he sounded almost haunted.  What could
have happened to him?

I spent the rest of the evening imagining a catalogue of calamities.  Had
he been sick?  Was he diagnosed with some terminal disease?  Had someone
close to him died?  My mind whirled around and around, conjuring ever more
horrible possibilities.

When John came in at about eleven, I was in bed but far from asleep.
Thoughtfully, he tiptoed around in silence with the lights off, but he may
as well have brought in a brass band and put on a fireworks display.  There
was no way I could find sleep that night.  With a new moon in the sky,
little illumination entered the room from outside.  I stared sightlessly
into the gloom.

            * * *

Distracted by awful visions of Jeff's mysterious misfortune, I was scarcely
aware of my surroundings as I went through the next day.  Like a robot, I
performed my daily rituals without conscious thought.  Somehow I made my
way to meals and classes, though I ate little and learned less.  My mind
couldn't focus on anything but Jeff.  I grew ever more anxious with each
passing hour.  By evening, I was certifiable.

Karen called me as I was getting ready to depart.  She started right in, so
I didn't have a chance to cut her short.  While she blathered on, I zoned
out.  It was more of the same about Joe and her parents, so there was no
need to pay close attention anyway.  I murmured brief responses at the
appropriate junctures, but I didn't volunteer anything.  Preoccupied with
her own concerns, she didn't notice my distance.

After she had finished her update, she asked what was new with me.  Not yet
prepared to discuss the developing situation with Jeff, I gave a short
rundown of my otherwise ordinary day.  She seemed satisfied with that.  We
talked only a bit longer.  Bidding her goodnight, I promised to call her
tomorrow.

I glanced at the clock.  There was still plenty of time.  I puttered around
mindlessly for a while, before getting dressed and dashing out the door.

Jeff and I met at Old Man Rafferty's a little earlier than planned.
Although I had tried to delay as much as possible, I still arrived 20
minutes before the hour; but Jeff wasn't far behind.  Looking more like his
usual self this time, he was dressed in jeans, sneakers and a flannel
shirt, along with a windbreaker against the autumn chill.  He greeted me as
warmly as ever, with a bright smile and a firm handshake.  Grinning
foolishly and pumping his hand effusively, I couldn't contain my enthusiasm
to see him.  I had intended to affect at least a modicum of reserve, but I
was too happy being with him again to follow through with it.

Since it was mid-week, the restaurant was nearly empty.  There were only
two other tables taken.  A group of guys caroused rowdily in the back
corner, as a couple (male and female) made eyes at one another by the
window.  Jeff and I got a table right away, and placed our orders soon
after.

I was restless and distracted, too apprehensive to ogle him with my usual
thoroughness.  Even so, I noticed that he was not his normal laid-back and
confident self.  Although he tried to hide it under a veneer of placid
nonchalance, he seemed at least as agitated as I was, if not more so.

It was a struggle resisting the urge to interrogate him, but I had to give
him the chance to raise the subject himself.  Jeff had to tell me what was
bothering him because he chose to, not because I dragged it out of him when
he was vulnerable.  Besides, I didn't want to appear too brazenly
inquisitive.

We had both ordered burgers and fries, so our food came quickly, giving us
no time to get past preliminary pleasantries.  To my frustration, Jeff
seemed content to go on making small talk while we ate.  He began going
into some detail about his classes this semester and his current roommates
and the internship that he had interviewed for, but he mentioned not one
word about the Summer Tragedy (as I had come to think of it, complete with
capital letters).

He rambled on for a while, as if he were afraid to stop talking.  It looked
as though he could go on like that all night, so I tried to steer him
toward the subject of his dire pronouncement.  Whenever he paused to ask me
something, I would render a purposefully monosyllabic response in the hopes
that he would take the hint; but he just continued on, conspicuously
ignoring my not-so-subtle cues.  This went on for some time.  I'm sure that
he knew what I was angling for, but he stubbornly refused to bring it up.
Eventually I admitted defeat.  Jeff would tell me when he was ready; I
would just have to wait until then.

Accepting what he had to say at face value, I began to contribute actively
to the conversation.  Although I still made no reference to Mitch, I went
on at length about the other developments in my life since our last time
together.  My doing so helped both of us relax.  After that, our chat
became less strained and more enjoyable.

Tabling my curiosity for the moment, I allowed myself to simply enjoy being
with Jeff.  It felt as if I were getting to know him all over again.  Once
given the chance, our natural rapport reasserted itself.  Whenever I became
momentarily tongue-tied, Jeff drew me out in that way of his.  A couple of
times, to my surprise, I found myself doing the same for him.

As we talked, I rediscovered how much we had in common and how well we got
along, despite the superficial differences between us.  It reminded me of
our second night together, when we shared our first real conversation.
Remembering how close I felt to him, how intimately we connected, I finally
understood why I had fallen for him so completely.

Unfortunately, I also remembered the concluding scene of that night.  The
memory made me cringe as I relived the humiliation of being rebuffed so
bluntly.  I suddenly lost patience with his evasions.

We had to resolve this one way or another, so I could get on with my life.
If the Summer Tragedy had something to do with me, then I had to know.  If
not, then I had to get away from him before my identity slipped away again
into a bottomless morass of longing and despair.  I couldn't bear a repeat
performance of that agonizing internal melodrama, especially not so soon
after Mitch.

Pushing aside our convivial exchange and dropping all pretense of being
coy, I asked Jeff straight out what had happened to him over the summer.
His forced garrulousness fell away and he became abruptly solemn.  He
apologized for not getting to the point, but he said he didn't want to talk
about it in the restaurant.

He invited me over to his apartment, back on Busch Campus.  My better
judgment implored me to refuse, but I'd come too far to simply walk away.
We had to reach some sort of closure.  I accepted his invitation, and we
departed the restaurant promptly, leaving money on the table to cover the
check.

Since we had each come in our own cars, we drove there separately.  I
wasn't exactly sure where Jeff's place was located, so I followed behind
him closely.  Even at that hour there was quite a bit of traffic, obliging
me to drive carefully in order to keep his white Mustang in sight.  It was
a short ride, leaving me little time to work up any further anxiety.

Jeff's apartment was located on the opposite side of Busch Campus from my
dormitory, in one of the apartment buildings that were reserved for
upperclassmen.  When I got my bearings, I realized that a couple of my
friends lived in a neighboring building.  Smiling wryly to myself, I
thought of how they always teased me because I was so blatantly envious of
them.  I had hoped to get an apartment in the university's housing lottery,
but the luck of the draw hadn't been in my favor.  Knowing that I was
fortunate to have any kind of on-campus housing, I had tried to convince
myself in the meantime that the dorm wasn't so bad: I only had one roommate
to contend with, and it was significantly less space to keep clean.

We drove around and parked in the lot behind the building.  Jeff met me at
my car.  Both of us were subdued as we made our way over to the outside
staircase that ascended to the upper levels.  Bounding up the stairs to the
third floor, he led the way to his front entry.  Unlocking the door, he
held it open for me as I passed inside.

The first thing I noticed was how barren the place seemed.  Jeff and his
roommates had done little to personalize the communal living and dining
area.  There were a couple of movie and sports posters tacked to the walls,
and a few books and magazines scattered around on the tables about the
room, but there was nothing else to reflect the personalities of the
inhabitants.  In fairness, I supposed that there really wasn't much you
could do make it feel more cozy, given how Spartan the dwelling was to
begin with.  Overall, the large room felt like the lobby of a hospital,
complete with excessive illumination glaring against the nearly bare, stark
white walls.  This impression was enhanced by the preternatural quiet that
laid over the place since there appeared to be no one else around.

Jeff explained that both of his roommates were out at evening classes.
That was part of the reason he'd chosen this night to invite me over.
Nonetheless, he still seemed reluctant to broach the subject of the Summer
Tragedy.  Politely, but obviously temporizing, he offered me something to
drink and, when I declined, excused himself to the bathroom.  I sat down in
one of the living room chairs and fidgeted nervously until he returned.

When he came out a few minutes later, he directed me back to his bedroom.
After we were inside, he closed the door behind him, saying, "Just in case
one of my roommates comes back early."

Glancing around the small chamber, I was immediately struck by how much
more individualized it was than the common room.  Posters and pictures
covered nearly all the surface area of the walls.  The majority of them
depicted sports figures, predominantly baseball with a smattering of
others, but there were also a few featuring movies of the sci-fi/action
genre, like Alien and Predator.

Standing in the corner next to the utilitarian desk, a tall bookcase,
presumably brought in from home, held a small TV, a few athletic trophies
and similar knickknacks, as well as several shelves of engineering
textbooks and reference works.  A portable stereo occupied most of the top
of the large bureau, accompanied by haphazard stacks of tapes and CD's,
mostly classic and alternative rock.  The lone twin-bed was neatly made,
covered with a colorfully abstract, but tastefully masculine comforter in
various earth-tones that matched the drapes on the window.  A new-looking
teddy bear, probably a gift from Susan, rested against the lamp on the
nightstand.

Jeff offered me the chair by the desk, the only one in the room, and sat
himself down on the bed.  Appearing uncomfortable, he began, "I'm sorry
I've been beating around the bush, but this is hard for me."

Seeing his discomfiture, I was moved to sympathy.  "It's okay.  Take your
time.  I just want to help if I can."

He smiled wanly.  "Thanks."  He was silent for several long minutes, but I
didn't press him.  I was afraid that if I pushed he would never talk.
Finally, he said, "I broke up with Susan over the summer."

That's what all the melodrama was about?  Somehow I felt cheated.  Awful as
it might sound, I was almost disappointed that no one had died.  I had been
all set to play grief counselor.

Then it occurred to me that he hadn't once mentioned his girlfriend's name
during the course of the evening thus far.  I couldn't say that I was sad
to learn that they had broken up.  It was actually good news to me.  To my
unique perspective on the world, which was admittedly somewhat warped,
Susan had been my chief rival for Jeff's affections.  If he was single,
that made it easier for me to imagine getting together with him, regardless
of his sexuality.  I was unrepentantly jubilant that she was no longer in
the picture.

Nevertheless, I had to wonder why Jeff was telling me of all people.  We
were hardly best friends, despite my desire for a more intimate
relationship.  As far as he was concerned, I was merely an acquaintance,
and one he hadn't seen for six months at that.  Why would he pour out his
heart to me?  His motivation eluded me, but I was moved by his visible
pain.

I said simply, "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it was rough."  He spoke distractedly, as if more to himself than to
me.  "We've been going out since high school, almost five years.  We
thought we were going to get married."  He hung his head, clearly on the
verge of tears.

Now, I sensed that he wanted encouragement.  Softly I asked, "So what
happened?  Did she leave you for another guy?"

He barked a laugh, but there was little mirth in it.  "Not exactly.  I
broke up with her, and she took it really hard.  She cried and cried, but I
had to do it.  I hated myself, but it's for the best.  That was one of the
hardest things I've ever done in my life."

I felt terrible for Jeff.  Obviously, he was miserable.  Even if I couldn't
have him, I still didn't want him to be unhappy.  Eager to offer what
support I could, I dusted off my trusty psychoanalyst's couch.

It reminded me of the counseling sessions that I had given my straight male
friends back in high school, whenever they were having trouble with their
girlfriends.  At the time I had hated those little bouts of pseudo-therapy.
What business did I, a lonely gay boy, have giving them advice on
heterosexual relationships?  The whole scenario had seemed absurd to me,
but I managed to pull it off with a sympathetic ear and a mouthful of
platitudes.  My friends usually went away in a better frame of mind; I
supposed that was what mattered.

The most difficult part for me was being made to feel like an outsider.  I
had always felt isolated to some degree, but playing counselor like that
made it infinitely worse, especially since my "clients" didn't know that I
was so very different from them.  It was as if I were masquerading in a
foreign land, pretending to understand the customs well enough to guide
others, but in reality I was just stumbling around ignorantly.

For the first time, I was grateful to have gone through all that.  Despite
how unsettling it had been, the experience was invaluable preparation for
dealing with the present circumstances.  It gave me a confidence that I
might not otherwise have possessed.

I prompted Jeff gently, "But why?  Didn't you love her?"

"I thought so," he murmured, staring off into space.

"Then what went wrong?"

"I was wrong," he said with sudden heat, emphasizing the first-person
pronoun.

"But how?" I asked soothingly.

His tone became detached again.  "I didn't really love her.  Susan was my
friend.  I liked her, and we had a good time together, but it was never
more than that.  It wasn't more than that for me, anyway."  Jeff paused,
taking a deep breath, but I remained silent, sensing that he would continue
in his own good time.  "But that was okay.  She didn't know how I really
felt.  She loved me and I liked being with her.  We could have gone on like
that.  I could have married her and been happy, I guess."

"But you didn't really love her," I said, deliberately repeating his words
back to him.

"No, I didn't," he said, sighing.  "Eventually I realized that...when I
fell in love with someone else."

"Who?" I blurted out, suspecting that I knew the answer but not daring to
hope.

Jeff became quiet, to all appearances contemplating his shoes, but I
imagined that inside he was furiously debating how to reply.  Eventually,
after a long while, he spoke.  Looking up and gazing directly at me, he
said simply, "You."


My eyes grew wide.  "Oh, my God," I whispered, utterly shocked.  Where was
the therapist for me, now that I needed one?

"Yeah, that's about how I felt," he chuckled dryly, but with genuine humor
this time.  "When we fooled around those couple of times, I didn't think it
meant anything.  I mean, it was hot, better than any sex I'd ever had with
a girl, but I didn't think there was any more to it than that."

He paused for breath, then resumed.  "At least, I didn't at first.  But
then, after we hung out that night and talked, I couldn't stop thinking
about you.  I couldn't wait to see you again and that scared me.  After the
last time we were together, I had to stay away, even though I didn't want
to.  I wasn't sure what I was feeling anymore.  It seemed like...I don't
know..."  He trailed off, seemingly embarrassed.

Stunned, my mouth hanging open, I sat there mutely.

Realizing that I was incapable of speech, Jeff went on, laughing again, "I
really got you, didn't I?  Well, don't feel bad.  It surprised the hell out
of me."  When I still didn't say anything, he got up and came over by where
I sat, squatting down in front of me.  "Hey, are you okay?" he asked with a
concerned expression.

Shaking my head, not in negation but to collect myself, I muttered, "Yeah,
I think so."

"I'm sorry.  I was afraid I'd freak you out.  That's why I hemmed and hawed
so long."

"It's all right.  I'm just really surprised.  Floored, actually."  I
exhaled loudly.  "I can't believe it."

Jeff snorted as he stood up.  "You can't believe it?"  He perched himself
on the nearest corner of the bed before continuing.  "I still haven't got
it all figured out.  I like sports and cars.  I don't know the first thing
about decorating or being a hairdresser.  I hate ballet and opera, and I
don't know a single show tune.  I like Van Halen and Aerosmith, but I can't
stand Barbra Streisand.  How can I be a homo?"

I laughed at his earnest bewilderment, "So?  I'm gay, and while I don't
much care for sports, I do like cars.  I couldn't decorate if you gave a me
a decorate-by-the-numbers book, and forget about being a hairdresser.  I
can't even comb my own hair so it looks decent in the morning.  I've been
to exactly one Broadway show in my life, which bored me to tears, and don't
even get me started on ballet and opera.  I like Babs and I like Van Halen,
but I despise Aerosmith."

I continued fervently, my tone growing perhaps a trifle sermonic, "There's
no law that says you have to like or not like something in order to be gay.
Those are just stupid stereotypes.  The only requirement, if you're a guy,
is that you like other guys.  Other than that, you just have to go with
your feelings and be yourself."  Reduced to cliches, I lost momentum, but I
figured I had made my point.

Shrugging expansively, he said, "Then I guess I qualify, since I do like
guys, but it's news to me.  I've had a tough time with it.  Breaking up
with Susan was hard, but accepting this about myself was a lot harder."


"I've always known I was gay," I mused.  "Even when I was little, I just
had the feeling I was different.  I didn't know how or why, or what it
meant, but I knew I was different.  When I got older, I figured it out.  It
was hard at first, but I'm okay with it now."

Jeff smiled then said, "That's one of the things I like about you."

"What?"

"You're so comfortable with who you are."

That did it.  I started laughing so hard that I nearly fell off the chair.

"What's so funny?" he asked, genuinely perplexed by my reaction.

Gasping for breath, I said, "Oh, please.  I am so incredibly insecure, it's
not funny.  I've always admired you for being so together."

"Ha!  Now that's funny."

"No, really, you always seem so sure of yourself."

"You think so, huh?"

"Yeah, I do."

"I must be a pretty good actor 'cause I sure don't feel that way."

"Well, I don't know how good of an actor you are, but you sure are pretty."

"Hey!"

"Pretty cute, that is."  I grinned at him mischievously.

"Thanks," said Jeff, suddenly bashful.  After a beat, he added, "You're not
so bad yourself."

"Gee, thanks!" I muttered sarcastically.

"No, I mean it.  You're really cute too."  He paused for a second, shaking
his head.  "God, it sounds weird to say that to another guy.  But it's
true."

"Well, I've always thought you were cute, from the minute I first saw you."

"I guess I felt the same way about you.  I just didn't realize it 'til
later."

"I'm glad you finally figured it out."

"Me too."

Without saying another word, Jeff gestured for me to come sit beside him.
Not one to refuse such a gracious invitation, I got up swiftly and plunked
myself down next to him on the bed.  He leaned towards me hesitantly, and I
put my arms around him, pulling him into a firm embrace.

My lips found his and pressed against them gently.  His goatee tickled, but
it was a welcome sensation.  I'd never kissed a man with a beard.

Jeff reacted shyly, allowing me to take the lead.  He scarcely brushed my
mouth with his.  Gradually, his desire overcame his uncertainty.  He put
his arms around me and squeezed our bodies more closely together.  Feeling
his heightened response, I began to taste him greedily.  I nudged my tongue
into his mouth, and he accepted it willingly.  After a moment, he returned
the favor, if somewhat tentatively at first.

As our mutual passion began to escalate, he lost his reticence.  We
exchanged copious amounts of saliva as our tongues danced in and out of
each other's mouths.  Our arms and hands clutching and caressing one
another, we fell back onto his bed in a tangle.  It was paradise allowing
myself to become consumed by my desire for him.

After a few minutes of intense making out, we both backed off for a moment
to catch our breath.  I looked towards Jeff, seeking his gaze, but he
stared away at the wall thoughtfully, his face propped up on his elbow.

Distantly, he said, "Can I ask you something?"

Still faintly breathless, I murmured, "Sure, anything."

"I told you how I feel about you," he began soberly.  "It's been all I
could think about for months.  But I wonder how you feel about me.  I knew
right from the start that I turned you on.  That was pretty obvious when we
started fooling around, but I'm not sure if it's any more than that for
you."

Jeff looked at me then.  "I guess what I want to know is: Do you feel the
same way about me?"  Those unfathomable cerulean eyes bored into my soul,
daring me to speak the truth.

"I wasn't sure myself at first," I said softly, "but I know now.  I've
known for a long time, really."

Glancing down, I twiddled my fingers absently.  My mind spun out of
control.  I was scared to go on.  Once the words were spoken, I couldn't
take them back, no matter what came to pass.

After an extended pause, I returned his gaze resolutely and declared, "I
love you, too."

It was a relief to say it.  The path to this moment had been tortuous, but
it had finally come.  It filled me with elation that I was at last free to
reveal my heart, but I was also terrified that I might be baring my
innermost being for him to devour.  I trembled with dread.

But there was no need to be afraid.

Jeff's brilliant smile swept away the last of my fear, like a newborn star
sweeps away the remaining dust and debris that obscure it from the
universe.  He reached out and pulled me towards him again, crushing me
fiercely in his embrace.  I clutched him tightly in return, and we laid
like that, entwined together, for a long while.

            * * *

Each of us savored the profound feelings that we had just revealed.  I
don't think that either of us had believed before that what we had come to
share was even possible.  Giving voice to my love for Jeff made it seem
more real to me, as tangible as his flesh which I now held.  For me, it was
truly a dream come true.

As we lay bound to together, we began to undress one another.  Slowly and
reverently, both of us realizing the significance of this moment, we
unbuttoned each other's shirts.  It was awkward in that position but we
persevered since neither of us wanted to move away from the other.  In
between each button, by unspoken agreement, we paused to kiss, sometimes a
quick, darting peck and other times a prolonged, languorous lip-lock.  We
giggled foolishly at the contortions we were forced to endure in order to
achieve our objective, but soon enough it was done.

Jeff was not wearing a T-shirt so his chest was now bared to me.  Reaching
between the parted sides of his shirt, I gingerly stroked the soft, pale
skin with its downy covering of dark fur.  Seen up close, he appeared even
more hirsute, which was a pleasant discovery.  I ran my fingers through the
hair, savoring its luxuriance.  Finding a nipple, I brushed it lightly with
my fingertips, more to tease him than for any immediate erotic purpose.
Jeff moaned softly at the sensation.

He had been wrestling with the T-shirt that I wore beneath my shirt, but
had finally succeeded in pulling it free of my jeans.  Bending his arm up
underneath the recalcitrant garment, he caressed me with surprising
gentleness.  His fingers were slightly rough, but they moved across my skin
smoothly.

Punctuated by bouts of passionate kissing, we continued like that for some
time, reveling in the simple act of touching one another.  I'd never felt
free to explore a man's body so thoroughly before, and it was certainly the
first time for Jeff as well.  Like myself, he didn't appear to be in any
hurry to go further yet.

I was happy to learn that he was capable of such patient tenderness.  In
the past, he had seemed so arrogant and impetuous that I assumed he would
be a perpetually hasty and brutish lover, unable to appreciate the simple
pleasures we now shared.  There was no doubt that I had enjoyed the purely
physical thrill of our previous encounters.  The risk of being caught had
given those times in the dorm shower an exhilarating edge, and the
unadorned sexual release had been incredibly intense.  Nonetheless, it was
a joy to experience true lovemaking, and I was doubly pleased that Jeff
prized it as much as I did.

After a while, we felt the urge to move on.  I was the first to stir,
pushing Jeff's shirt off of his shoulders and down his back.  He wriggled
his body to facilitate removing it entirely.  When it was completely loose,
I stretched out and dropped the rumpled article off the side of the bed and
onto the floor behind him.  Then, he repeated the same procedure for me,
with the added step of pulling my T-shirt up and over my head, before
tossing it aside as well.

Our torsos were now fully exposed to one another.  We pressed together
again, our smoldering desire igniting into an open blaze.  The thick hair
on Jeff's chest mingled into the lighter down on my own, a sensation that
was almost but not quite ticklish.  The feeling of skin on skin was almost
unbearably exquisite, the tactile equivalent of two mirrors reflecting each
other to infinity.

Our tenderness began to wane as our passion mounted.  Jeff crushed me to
him with his strong arms, and I responded similarly.  We each stroked and
kneaded the other's flesh as we clung together, our lips bound and unbound,
fiery and wet.

Forcing me over onto my back, Jeff kissed my cheek and jaw and down my
neck, his hot breath steaming against my skin.  Working his way downward,
he left a moist trail to the hollow at the base of my throat.  He drew his
tongue across my flesh, through the hair on my chest and to my right
nipple.  As he licked the sensitive nub, I gasped uncontrollably.  Seeing
the effect this stimulation had on me, he continued in earnest, tonguing it
eagerly.  Then he began stroking my other tit with his fingertips.

Crawling up and straddling my legs, Jeff alternated his oral and manual
attentions between each nipple, first suckling at one and caressing the
other, then the reverse.  I moaned and writhed in pleasure, inspiring him
even further.  In his enthusiasm, he bit down sharply on one of them, and I
yelped in pain.  Mumbling an apology, he carried on with a gentler but no
less ardent lingual stimulation.

The sensation was glorious, but after a while my nipples became faintly
irritated from the continuous manipulation.  With a light touch, I urged
Jeff up off of me.  Pushing him onto his back, I climbed over atop him so
that I might return the favor of what he had just done to me.  Realizing my
intent, he grew passive.  His body went limp, allowing me to take charge
for the time being.

First, I tasted his mouth again, exploring it with my tongue, renewing my
acquaintance with that unique flavor that I had come to know as Jeff.  I
devoured him hungrily, pushing my tongue into his mouth then sucking his
into mine.  Back and forth, our tongues moved, trading places repeatedly.

Then, pulling away from his mouth, I began kissing across his face.
Straying from the path he had followed, I blazed a trail to his left ear.
I nuzzled the bottom lobe briefly before sucking it into my mouth.  Ever so
softly, I nibbled at it, barely grazing it with the surface of my teeth.
Jeff moaned thickly.  Obviously, I'd hit a sensitive spot.

Encouraged by his reaction, I continued my ministrations.  For variety, I
moved to his other ear, then began switching between the two, with a pause
in transition to buss his lips.  When my lips touched his, Jeff responded
absently, lost in the pleasure that I gave him.

Anxious to explore new realms, I abandoned his ears after a time and began
trekking downward.  As he had done to me, I left a string of kisses across
his cheek.  I lingered around his chin to lave my tongue through the copse
of his goatee.  He giggled, so I must have tickled him in doing so.  Then I
continued downward, planting my lips moistly on his neck at random
intervals.

When I reached his chest, I couldn't resist pressing my face into that
glorious carpet of fur.  His clean, manly odor overwhelmed me.  Breathing
deeply, I drank in the scent of him, trying to memorize it.  Wrapping my
arms around and underneath his torso, I squeezed him tightly.  Jeff draped
his arms over me and held me to him.  If it were possible, I think I would
have burrowed into him.

With my face in that position, his right tit lay close to mouth.  Almost of
its own volition, my tongue snaked out and flicked it several times.  With
a sharp intake of breath, Jeff registered his approval.  It was clear that
he enjoyed having his nipples stimulated as much as I did.

I was more than happy to render the same pleasure to him that he had given
to me.  Releasing my embrace, I pushed myself up until my face hung over
his chest.  My mouth found the nipple again and began to work it gently,
nibbling and licking the erectile nub.  Holding myself up with one hand, I
reached my free hand over to his other tit and began to fondle it lightly.

Jeff gasped in joy, which inspired me to pursue my present avocation with
even greater dedication.  I moved my mouth his other nipple and switched
the hand that I supported myself with so that I could caress the first.  It
was now slick with my saliva, so my fingertips glided over it smoothly.  I
continued like that for some time, occasionally swapping sides to share my
attentions equally.

Beneath me, I could feel the insistent pressure of Jeff's hard cock
straining upward through his jeans.  Moving my face back up level with his,
I began to undulate my hips against him, which drove our crotches together.
Jeff answered by pushing back in harmony with my rhythm.  We kissed
passionately as the mounds of our erections dueled with one another.

I couldn't stand the excitement any longer.  Sliding myself down, I parted
Jeff's legs so I could kneel between them.  He watched me encouragingly as
I groped the bulge in his jeans.  Squeezing the outline of his dick, I
rubbed it through the stiff denim.

Undoing the catch of his pants, I pulled down the zipper and folded back
the flaps.  His cock jutted up inside the dull plaid of his boxer shorts.
I caught a glimpse of it through the partly open fly.  Reaching into the
vent, I grasped the fleshy cylinder and masturbated it briefly.

"Mmm," he murmured contentedly, as I slid my hand up and down his shaft.

After a few seconds of that, I withdrew my hand and began to pull down his
jeans.  Obligingly, Jeff elevated his hips to expedite their removal.  It
still took quite an effort to tug them all the way off, but I was up to the
challenge.  We wrestled for a few moments, until they finally surrendered
and at last I yanked them off his feet.  The boxer shorts, which had
already come down partway with the jeans, were far more co-operative.  I
tore them off in one swift motion.

Now, Jeff was completely naked before me.  Standing at the foot of the bed,
I had to pause a moment just to look at him.  He was as perfect as I
remembered, from the tousled dark hair on his head down to his well-formed
feet.  I felt a renewed surge of lust to match the intense love that
coursed through me.

Realizing what I was doing, Jeff smiled at me.  "Like what you see, huh?"
he said impishly, propping himself up on his elbows.

I grinned back, somewhat abashed.  "Oh, yeah."

I crawled back between his legs and bent over his crotch.  His dick
remained rigidly at attention.  Hunching over it, I slid my tongue across
the underside of his cock-head.  Jeff sighed noisily and laid his head back
down on the pillow.

Opening my mouth, I engulfed the jutting pole.  I'd held it enough to
recognize the familiar texture and shape as it filled my oral cavity.  The
pungent flavor assaulted my taste buds as the concentrated musk of his
crotch infiltrated my nostrils.  My lips clamped around the sculpted column
near its mid-point, and my tongue began to worship the offering that had
been delivered into its shrine.

I began to raise and lower my head slowly, drawing Jeff's cock into my
mouth then releasing it, over and over again.  Clamped around the base, my
left hand provided an extension of the warm tightness of my throat.  It
also served as a bumper, to prevent me from gagging by trying to swallow
too much of the 8-inch shaft.  As the throbbing organ rode in and out of my
mouth, I kept the rough surface of my tongue pressed against it to create
friction against the sensitive underside.

Jeff moaned inarticulately, placing his hands on the back of my head and
clutching his fingers through my hair.  I could have gone on like that
forever, but he signaled me to stop.  I peered up at him expectantly.

"Wait a second," he said, exhaling sharply.  "I'm really close to cumming,
but I don't want to yet."  He paused, gazing into my eyes with fierce
intensity.  "I want you to fuck me."

Flabbergasted, I stammered, "Are you sure?"

"What's the matter?" he asked, chuckling throatily.  "Don't you want to?"

"Are you kidding?  Of course I do.  But only if you're sure that you want
to."

"Yes, I'm sure.  Just take it easy."

"I will.  I promise."

Jeff nodded, accepting my word.  Reaching into the drawer of his bedside
table, he pulled out a bottle of lubricant, probably the same one I had
dipped into so many months ago.  Clambering up from the bed, he dispensed
some of it and began to apply it to his bottom.  He must have been paying
attention to what I had done before he fucked me, because he used his
fingers to insert the slick substance into his asshole and loosen the
strong muscles of his sphincter.  I watched him hypnotically as he worked
the lubricant between his perfectly- formed butt cheeks.

"Well?" he said, eyeing me where I still sat immobile.

Taking my cue, I hopped off the foot of the bed and stripped off my jeans.
I had to peel my underpants away from my crotch.  So much pre-cum had oozed
out during our foreplay that they were practically glued to my body.  As
they tore away, my dick bobbed up resiliently.  Jeff's proposition had
given it powerful incentive.

He handed me the bottle and leaned over the edge of the bed.  I pumped out
a healthy portion and set the bottle back on his nightstand.  Grasping my
cock with the hand full of greasy goo, I stroked myself just enough to
spread the substance evenly all over the pulsating shaft.  The sharp chill
of the lubricant against the inflamed heat of my turgid organ sent a shiver
through my body.

Shaking with anticipation, I stepped up behind him.  My heart hammered with
excitement.  For a few moments, I remained rooted to the spot.  It didn't
seem possible that we had come to this point.  I was about to possess him
as fully as he had possessed me.  In a seemingly irreconcilable duality, it
was both intensely romantic and overwhelmingly erotic.

When I hesitated, Jeff craned his neck around to look up at me.  His
expression was eager but anxious.  I smiled reassuringly, though my own
stomach was knotted in tense anticipation.

I began to knead his ass cheeks.  Placing my dick in the crevice between
them, I slid it up and down a few times.  Some of the lubricant transferred
itself to the furry recesses of his butt, matting down the hairs.  With one
hand I directed my cock-head until it pressed against his puckered hole.
Holding it in place, I thrust forward with my hips, gently at first, then
with increasing force.

Jeff gasped as he felt the pressure mounting.  His virginal orifice
resisted my thick shaft doggedly.  Tensely, he pushed back against me.

"Uh!" he cried out, as my cock-head finally broke through.

"Are you alright?" I asked anxiously.

"No!" he snapped.  "Take it easy!"

"I'm sorry!" I wailed contritely, holding myself utterly still.

After a few agonized moments, he seemed to relax.  "It's okay.  I can take
it now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he growled.  "I want you inside me."

Gripping his hips with both hands, I began to ease myself further into him.
I drove forward with painstaking patience.  There was no way I wanted to
hurt Jeff like that a second time.  Millimeter by millimeter, my fat seven
inches disappeared into his clenching sphincter, drilling inexorably into
the depths of his bowels.  He grunted at the steady penetration but did not
protest again.

The sensation of having my cock squeezed so tightly by his warm, slippery
hole was almost enough to make me lose my load.  If I hadn't been moving
slowly, I would have careened wildly over the edge.  As it was, I teetered
perilously near the precipice.

At last, I was completely inside him.  My pubic bush rested snugly against
his butt.  Keeping myself immobile, I remained in that position for a time,
to give Jeff the chance to get used to the feeling of fullness.  It also
allowed me to step back from the brink.

After a few moments, Jeff was the first to stir.  Rocking forward, he
released several inches of my shaft from his asshole; then he pushed back
to engulf them again.  His motion was slow and deliberate as he acquainted
himself with the new sensations surging through his body.  He continued to
rock back and forth with gradually increasing speed and magnitude.  In
time, as he grew more relaxed and confident, he ranged from absorbing the
full length of my thick rod to having the head scarcely tucked inside him.
He crooned in delight as he discovered the unique satisfaction of getting
fucked

Jeff's methodical maneuvers stimulated my plunging organ exquisitely.  My
voice joined with his in a nonverbal chorus of physical rapture.  Seeing
that he was now enjoying the experience, I began to thrust my hips in
synchrony with his movements.  Every time the ridge of my cock-head grazed
the slick confines of his anal orifice, I felt myself nudged incrementally
closer to the point of no return.

Wanting to enhance his pleasure, I reached around and grabbed Jeff's
neglected member.  His erection had faded from the pain of my initial
infiltration, but his cock grew quickly hard again with a little attention.
Since my hand was still greasy with the lubricant, it coasted smoothly over
his sensitive flesh.  He moaned louder at the double excitement of being
fucked and jerked off simultaneously.

That only spurred me on further.  I began to buck uncontrollably, ramming
in and out of his clutching hole with complete abandon.  My breathing
became labored as I sucked in oxygen to fuel the enormous effort.  Grunting
with exertion, Jeff now held fast while I plowed his butt unmercifully.  I
couldn't stop now, even if I wanted to, but he clearly didn't want me to.

Somehow, I retained enough awareness to continue masturbating his cock.  My
fist flew back and forth along his shaft, keeping time with my driving
hips.  The stiff organ throbbed gratefully.

At that frenzied pace, neither of us could endure for very long.  As my own
climax came crashing down upon me, I felt Jeff begin to shudder with the
impending culmination of ecstasy.  My hand filled with his hot seed, as his
sphincter convulsed rhythmically around my shaft.  A fraction of a second
later, I shot my own load deep inside of him, crying out triumphantly as
spasms of pleasure wrenched my body.  Time seemed to suspend itself as we
poised together on that lofty pinnacle.  Then, the merest instant later, we
tumbled from the height, and it was all over.

Panting for breath, we held our places for a few minutes.  The sweat cooled
on my body, leaving me chilled.  I withdrew from him as my cock began to
grow flaccid.  Straightening up, he turned around to face me.

"That was incredible!" he said, with a lopsided grin.

"Yeah, it sure was," I replied, smiling back at him like a half-wit.

He ruffled my hair playfully then kissed me.  We embraced, our nude forms
pressed against one another.  Pausing for a brief respite, we returned to
his bed.  Tenderly, we explored one another's bodies again, persisting
until we had each memorized the entirety of the other, like 16th century
European mariners charting the extent and expanse of the New World.

In time, our mutual lust reasserted itself.  Jeff sucked me off to a second
powerful climax, before fucking me to his own furious orgasm.  After that
we collapsed on his bed, thoroughly drained and exhausted.  Loosely
entangled, we rested there, sometimes talking quietly, but mostly sharing a
companionable silence.

            * * *

The hour had grown late.  I couldn't see the clock, but I guessed that it
was well past midnight.  I got up and sat on the edge of the bed, wondering
if I should go.

In spite of everything that had just happened, a small but vocal part of me
feared that Jeff's feelings might change.  He could still decide that it
had all been a mistake and throw me out in disgust.  It was disturbing to
acknowledge, but a trace of doubt remained to plague me.

On a more pragmatic level, the thought also occurred to me that he might
prefer to sleep alone.  Although I found it profoundly reassuring and
incredibly romantic to spend the night with someone, he simply might not
share that predilection.  I lingered at the bedside hesitantly.

Jeff had been lying there drowsily, but now he sat up and looked at me with
a curious expression.  "You're not going to leave, are you?" he asked with
a scarcely discernible, plaintive tone in his voice.

"Not unless you want me to," I said, praying that he wouldn't.

His only answer was to reach out and pull me tightly to him.  That was
enough to chase away the last of my uncertainty.  I wasn't going anywhere,
not for a long time.

Still naked, we crawled underneath the covers and snuggled together,
spoon-fashion.  The single bed didn't offer much room to spread out, but I
for one was happy to be so close to Jeff.  He didn't seem to mind either as
he pressed up tight against me.  It wasn't long before we both drifted
peacefully off to sleep.

I awoke once during the night, momentarily disoriented at being in a
strange place.  Then I felt Jeff beside me, the warmth of his body touching
mine.  The faint rhythm of his breathing reached my ears through the utter
stillness of the room.  Raising my head up a bit, I could see his beautiful
face in slumbering repose.  Moonlight streaming in from the window bathed
him in angelic radiance.  With a contented smile, I put my head back down.

Soon I fell asleep again, thinking that Karen would get an earful tomorrow.

            * * *

Epilogue

It has been almost two decades since the events recounted above.  Jeff and
I stayed together for about a year after we became involved.  It was
passionate and intensely sexual, as youthful relationships tend to be, but
we were both far too young then to make a lifetime commitment.  Inevitably
we split up.  Each of us had to go out into the world on his own.  At least
we parted amicably.

I dated many guys over the next few years.  I fooled around with most of
them and went steady with several.  I even made a stab at a long term
relationship with one of them.  Dan and I lasted almost three years, but he
had personal issues to resolve before he could deal with a mate.
Unfortunately, it was a messy break-up.  I was single for quite a while
after that.

Back when we graduated, I had lost track of Jeff.  His career took him to
the West Coast, far away from New Jersey, where I stayed to become an
English professor at another university.  I thought of him from time to
time but never sought him out.

He has since told me that he dated around as much as I did during the
intervening years.  For the most part, he went out with guys.  He did see
one woman for a couple of months, but that brief relationship only
confirmed to him that he was gay.  Luckily for me, he never settled down
with anyone.

We ran into one another at Rutgers, during the festivities surrounding our
respective 10- year class reunions.  I'm still not sure what prompted me to
go.  Through the years, I had kept in touch with Karen and Brian and Alan
and Chris as well as some other good friends from those college days.
Since none of them were attending the reunion, my purpose for being there
really wasn't to catch up with long-lost classmates.  Perhaps on some level
I was hoping to meet up with Jeff, but I honestly can't say for sure.  In
any event, fate must have been in a good mood that day because it brought
the two of us back together again.  Murphy had finally grown bored of
tormenting me.

As I wandered aimlessly around the campus, trying to justify my presence
there, I glimpsed Jeff out of the corner of my eye.  He was standing
outside the Student Center, chatting with a cluster of fellow alumni.
Although he had changed somewhat, I recognized him immediately.  His dark
hair was shorter, almost a buzz-cut, (which I liked) and his goatee was
gone (which I didn't), probably in deference to corporate style.  He was
dressed casually, in jeans, sneakers and a sweatshirt (Scarlet Knights, of
course).  He had put on a little weight and his face was no longer quite as
boyish, but he had matured into a handsome man.  The old desire awakened
swiftly from its long slumber.

He must have sensed my eyes on him, because he looked over at me an instant
after I'd spotted him.  His expression went from puzzlement to recognition
in a flash.  The smile that lit up his face could have illuminated the dark
side of the moon.  Excusing himself from his companions, he rushed over and
pulled me into a bear-hug that knocked the air out of me.  Then he kissed
me full on the lips, right there in the commons.

We've been together ever since.

And every once in a while, we'll pretend that we're dorm-mates in college
again, meeting in the showers on a quiet Saturday night...