Date: Fri, 11 Jun 2010 01:38:31 EDT
From: BertMcK@aol.com
Subject: Dancing on the Tundra, 12

DANCING ON THE TUNDRA
by Bert McKenzie
Copyright 2010

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to any real
person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.

CHAPTER XII

     "What's so funny?" Terry asked.

     "Nothing.  Not a thing," Dan said with a disarming smile.
"He just likes to laugh a lot.  It's because he's so happy."

     "And gay," Wayne gasped between his chuckles.

     "Sit down," Terry quickly offered.  The two girls sat in
chairs while Terry, Dan and Wayne all sat side by side on the
couch.  They all quietly and uncomfortably stared at each other
until Dan finally broke the ice by asking Melanie her major.  She
glanced at Paula before telling them it was home ec.  Another
long pause hit, then Wayne stood and excused himself.  He had to
return some things to the library.  In a minute he made a fast
escape out of the apartment.

     Paula glanced from Terry to Dan.  "Your other roommate's
awfully . . . effeminate," she finally said.  "He's not . . . you
know?"

     "Gay," Dan provided the term for her.  "Yes, I'm afraid he
is."

     The two girls gave each other rather sharp looks.  "Well,
show us your apartment," Paula suggested, trying to change the
subject.  The guided tour took less than two minutes with only
the two bedrooms, bath, kitchen and living room.  "So where's
your room, Don?" Melanie asked, having been shown Terry's and
Wayne's.

     "We're roommates," Dan said as he put an arm around Terry,
giving him a firm squeeze.  "We share a room, Mel."

     "It's Melanie, Don," the girl corrected him.  "But you two
share a bed?"

     "Sure do," Dan said with a big grin on his face.

     Paula grabbed Terry by the arm, pulling him away and back
toward the living room.  As she did so she whispered to Terry,
"When did Mr. Obnoxious here move in with you?  You never
mentioned him before."

     "Just this week," Terry responded, feeling hurt that Paula
didn't like his lover.

     "Well," Paula said aloud, "Melanie and I planned to do a
little shopping.  Terry, why don't you take us out to that new
mall here in town."

     "Dan was going to fix us lunch," Terry said hesitantly.
"He's a great cook."

     "It's awfully early for lunch," Melanie said.

     "You guys go shopping and leave me alone in the kitchen,"
Dan said happily.  "That way I can be creative.  I'll see you
around noon."  Before Terry could think of a response the two
girls were dragging him out of the apartment.

     Wayne returned around 1:00 and he and Dan finally decided to
have some of the lasagna Dan had prepared.  As three o'clock
finally arrived Dan decided he and Wayne should go out for a
drink.  When Terry finally managed to get back to the apartment
around 5:00 he found Dan's note.  It read, "Lunch is on the
table.  I'll see you at the show tonight."  Terry glanced into
the kitchen to see three plates of cold lasagna that had been
sitting out since mid-afternoon.

     "Oh, I think we must have pissed off your roommate," Paula
observed.

     "I told you we should have called," Terry said, beginning to
feel the heavy weight of guilt.  "He probably went to a lot of
trouble."

     "Terry, we came down to see you, not some over muscled Betty
Crocker.  He's probably a P.E. major."

     "As a matter of fact he is.  What's wrong with that?" Terry
replied, his anger starting to rise.

     "I knew it.  Terry, why would you move out of the dorm to
live with these two, a faggot and a fruitcake."

     "They're my friends."

     "And look what they're probably doing to your reputation.
You're sharing a bed with another guy.  People are going to think
you're a faggot too.  Didn't you get enough of that in high
school?"

     "I've got an early call," Terry said, trying to escape his
friend's barrage.  "Your tickets are on reserve at the box
office.  Lock the door when you leave and I'll see you after the
show."  He left the apartment to walk up to campus.  By the time
he reached the theatre building he was only an hour and a half
too early, but he went down to the empty dressing room to think.

     Was Paula right?  Were people talking about him?  Stanley's
comments from Thursday night seemed to substantiate that.  But
how would this affect his reputation?  What could he do about it?
Then Terry began to think of some of the questions that Dan had
raised earlier in the week.  What would they do over the summer?
Terry's folks expected him to come home.  But he wasn't sure if
he could stand a whole summer's separation from Dan.  He really
liked the man a lot, maybe even loved him.  But was that enough?
It wasn't like they could live together forever.  It wasn't like
they could get married.

     "Terry?  You're here awfully early."  Dr. Baker just walked
by and noticed the lights on in the dressing room.

     "I ran out of things to do at home, so I thought I'd come
here, just to . . . think."

     "I know," the older man said.  "But you're in the wrong
place.  Come with me."  Terry got up and followed his director.
They went up the stairs and out onto the stage.  Dr. Baker took
him to the apron and then they both sat, their legs hanging over
the edge of the stage and into the orchestra pit.  The house was
dark.  All that could be seen were the tiny twinkles of the
little aisle lights that marked where the rows of seats ended.
The stage behind them was dimly lit by a couple of white bulbs
around the side walls.  These were turned off during
performances, but for now they cast an eerie glow of light on the
back side of the set.  "I like to come here before a show," the
old man said, "just to sit and breathe in the atmosphere.  Just
think.  In a couple of hours there will be four hundred people
sitting out there.  Each one has his or her own story.  Each one
has desires and expectations.  And they are all coming together
to see you."

     Terry shook his head slowly to dispel the illusion the man's
deep, rich voice had woven.  "To see your show.  Not to see me."

     "Yes, to see my show, but to see you as well.  It's your
show every bit as much as mine.  Whether you're playing the lead,
or a dead body barely glimpsed for a few brief moments, it makes
no difference.  It is your show.  That's the secret, Terry.
Those four hundred nameless faces are all coming to see you.  If
you believe that, it makes all the difference in the world."

     Terry looked at his director, then turned to look back out
at the empty house.  He slowly nodded as the meaning began to
sink in.  Dr. Baker sat beside him in silence for a while, the
two people lost in thought, thinking of the audience to come.
Then the man slowly rose to his feet and walked quietly away,
fading into the dark gloom of the theatre.  Terry continued to
sit and ponder what he was told.  It seemed to be a hidden truth
to which he could cling, forming an anchor to steady his inner
turmoil, not unlike the tundra itself.

     "Terry?" a voice interrupted his meditation.  He had totally
lost himself in thought and was unaware of how much time had
passed.  "You okay?"

     Terry looked up to see Victor standing nearby.  He was
already in his costume.  "Yeah, I was just thinking," Terry
responded.

     "They're almost ready to open the house."  Terry stood up
and the two of them headed for the stairs to the basement.  "So
where's Dan?" Victor asked.

     "I don't know," Terry said in alarm.  "Isn't he here yet?
He's never been late for call before."

     "Ever since we got in this show he's been different," Victor
explained.  "He quit hanging around with his friends, he had that
fight with Jeff and lost his scholarship as well as getting
kicked out of the dorm.  I just don't understand what's going on
with him."

     A few minutes later the stage manager came looking for
Terry.  "You're supposed to be in charge of the palace guard,"
she said.  "Everyone's here except your roommate and curtain is
in thirty minutes."  Terry ran to the phone on the wall of the
costume shop and quickly dialed his home number.  The phone was
still ringing when Victor came to get him.  He took the phone
from Terry, hung it up and dragged him back to the dressing room,
telling him Dan had finally arrived.  He might not have made it
at all had it not been for Wayne who brought him.

     "Where is he?" Terry asked as everyone seemed to be milling
around in nervous anticipation.

     "They've got him in a cold shower," Chet answered.  "Get
ready to put on the body paint as soon as they bring him out."
Terry grabbed the jar of Texas Dirt and a sponge.

     In a few moments two of the jocks came out of the bathroom
with Dan in tow.  He stood in the center of the dressing room,
naked and wet and slightly weaving.  "Hi ya, Michaelson, ol'
buddy.  Hold still will ya?"

     "He's drunk," Terry said in surprise.

     "Drunk hell, he's smashed," Victor countered.

     "Just do the makeup," Chet ordered.  "Start on his legs.
You guys grab his costume and hold on to him before he falls
over."

     Terry knelt down and began to sponge the red powder over his
friend's damp skin, blending it into an even color.  "Hey, Ter,
since you're down there anyway, give me a little head will ya?"
Dan said and thrust his pelvis forward, pushing his crotch into
Terry's face.  Terry moved back and continued to apply the
makeup.  "Oops," Dan said while covering his face with his hands.
"I forgot.  That's supposed to be a secret.  No one's supposed to
know you suck me."

     "Hold him while I get his jock on," Chet said as two of the
P.E. majors supported the drunk.  Terry quickly moved up to work
on his chest as Chet dressed the man.  As soon as Terry finished
with the body paint he stepped out of the way while Chet and
several of the guards finished getting Dan ready.  Terry quickly
stripped and slipped on his robe, just as the stage manager
called places.

     The group charged up the stairs, dragging Dan along.  In a
couple of minutes they were all positioned at the stage door.
The stage manager cued them and the guards reached down to lift
the shield.  Three of them hefted it up, but on one corner, it
was not lifted at the same time as the others, causing it to tip
and almost spilling Terry head first onto the backstage floor.
The rest of the guards grabbed to steady the platform.  "Do you
want us to hold?  We can replace him," the stage manager said to
Terry as she nodded toward Dan.

     "No, we're fine," Terry said as he repositioned himself on
the plywood shield.  "He'll behave."  Terry then leaned over to
the side Dan was holding.  "Dan, just get through this opening
scene."

     "Okay," a voice came back from behind the helmet.  "I can do
it."

     The door opened and the little procession wound out of the
theatre, down the hall and through the lobby.  The new house
manager opened the door and the group slowly began marching
through the audience and down the aisle to the stage.  Terry
could feel the out of step jerk as Dan had difficulty blending
with the other three bearers.  They all stopped on stage and
lowered Terry to the floor for the priest.  Then they very
carefully lifted him again in a smooth motion and began to walk
down the ramp and into the pit.  As the group proceeded down the
incline, Dan began to pick up the pace, pushing the others to
move faster.  Just as they passed out of view from the audience
Dan lost his footing, stumbled and fell.  This threw the others
off balance and they all stumbled, the plywood stretcher tilting
way too much.  Terry slid right off the edge of the board to land
in a heap at the bottom of the ramp, his head down and his ass in
the air.  The guards who hadn't fallen took one look at the body
and doubled over into convulsions trying not to laugh.  Terry
managed to roll over and crawl on his hands and knees to the
basement door.  He was quickly followed out by the others.
Finally, Dan came through the door carrying his helmet and with a
big grin on his face.  "Where'd you all go in such a hurry?" he
asked.

                            *   *   *

     "I need a drink," Dan said as Terry undressed him and helped
him into bed.

     "I think you've had enough to drink for one day."

     "Well I need something," Dan mumbled as he rolled onto his
stomach in the middle of the bed.

     "What?" Terry asked, angry and exasperated.  "What do you
need, Dan?"

     "I need a fuck."

     "Not tonight, Dan."  Terry was already annoyed with his
lover.  He had no intention of letting the big drunk attempt to
make love to him.  "Besides, I doubt if you could get it up."

     "No, but I bet you could," Dan said into the pillow, then
wiggled his bare butt.  In their past week of love making they
had mainly stuck to oral sex, although Dan did on one occasion
attempt to mount Terry.  But the jock seemed frightened of the
idea of anal sex with himself as the bottom.  Now he seemed to be
asking for it.  "Come on, Michaelson, or aren't you man enough to
try," he taunted.

     The sight of the beautiful, naked man on the bed was turning
him on, but Terry was still uncertain.  He was still nursing his
anger over the whole evening.  This was the performance that was
being judged for the ACTF competition.  If they lost he was sure
it would be due to Dan's intoxication.  He was sure the audience
heard the noises of the guards as they fell and dropped him in
the pit.  He was only grateful that it hadn't happened when they
were visible as well.  And yet, he still longed to climb in bed
and wrap his arms around his lover.  The thought of the sexual
offer was appealing as well.  Terry had never had any sexual
contact in that way.  He learned the pleasures of getting sucked
rather quickly in the past several days, but the idea of trying
this new position was exciting.

     Terry slipped out of his clothes and climbed into bed, then
positioned himself over his lover.  He tried to couple with Dan,
without much success.  "Ow, come on, man.  Not dry.  Use
something to grease it so it'll go in."  Terry followed Dan's
advice and grabbed a bottle of hand lotion to use for lubricant.
The next time he tried they were more successful.  At first, Dan
moaned as if in pain and Terry regretted his actions.  He
remembered how painful things had been when he was first
introduced to anal sex on prom night.  He started to withdraw,
but Dan only moaned again, this time not from pain but pleasure.
Terry pushed back and enjoyed the incredible sensations he was
experiencing as well.  Soon the two were working together in a
smooth erotic rhythm.  They both climaxed at the same time and
then Terry relaxed from a stance of passion into a gentle
embrace.

     The next morning Terry awoke to a wonderful aroma coming
from the kitchen.  He donned his robe and stumbled out to
investigate.  Dan was just taking a pan of homemade cinnamon
rolls from the oven.  "Good morning," he smiled.  "Sit down and
have some coffee.  I was just going to wake you."

     "How in the hell can you get drunk the night before and not
be hung over the next morning?" Wayne demanded as he staggered
out to the kitchen as well.  His face seemed paler than normal,
taking on a yellowish mocha color; his eyes were red rimmed and
his hair stood at odd angles from its normal well styled shape.

     "Easy," Dan said as he placed the hot rolls on a plate.  "I
drink; I get drunk; I puke; I'm all better.  Have a cinnamon roll
while they're hot."

     Wayne grabbed his mouth and rolled his eyes.  "If I try to
eat something now I'll puke too," he groaned.  "Just coffee."

     "How do you want it?" Terry asked as he reached for the pot.

     "Black and sweet, just like me," Wayne replied as he started
to gain some of his spirit back.

     Terry glanced at his two friends, then decided to get his
complaints off his chest.  "You two very nearly ruined the show
last night," he said.

     There was a long pause before anyone replied.  Finally Dan
spoke up.  "And you ruined my lunch that I planned for your
friends."

     "We're talking about a show, Dan," Terry argued.  "This
production means a lot to about twenty five people."

     "And what about my feelings?  Don't I matter?"

     "It's not the same thing."

     Dan slammed the empty pan into the sink.  "I never said it
was."

     "Maybe I better go," Wayne said softly and started to get
up.

     "Stay!" the two lovers both said at the same time.  "This
concerns you too," Dan added.

     "So you guys didn't like my friends and decided to get
drunk," Terry accused.

     "Hold it!  Wait just a minute!" Dan said as he held up his
hands.  "We didn't like your friends?  Who was it that stayed
home fixing them lunch, and who was it that never came back?"

     "Yeah, Terry," Wayne agreed.  "It seems like maybe you got
things backwards.  It looks to me like your friends are the ones
who didn't like us."

     Terry was ready to say something more, but when confronted
with this argument, he lost his train of thought.  Instead he
just stood with his mouth open.  "And what do you mean, your
friends, plural?" Dan continued.  "You only met Melody a couple
of seconds before we did.  You've know me longer than you've know
her."

     "Her name's Melanie, not Melody."

     "If she can call me Don, I can call her Melody."

     "So what did Paula think of your roommates?" Wayne asked.
Terry blushed and glanced down.  "I thought so.  Let me guess.
She doesn't approve of you living with a couple of faggots, and
one of them a nigger as well."

     "She never said that . . ."

     "Maybe not in those words."  Wayne sat back and reached for
a roll, apparently forgetting all about his hangover and queazy
stomach.

     "What words did she use?" Dan asked.

     "Okay, so she's worried about me.  She thought it looked bad
that we slept in the same bed."

     "Pot calling the kettle white," Wayne interjected.

     "What's that supposed to mean?"

     "I think what he means," Dan explained, "is that your friend
has a lot of nerve worrying about how things look for you when
she and her girlfriend are . . ."

     "Are what?" Terry asked.

     "Honey, they're obviously lovers."  Wayne delicately bit
into the roll he had been examining.

     "Lovers?"

     "They're dikes, okay?" Dan added.

     Terry turned and went back into his room, slamming the door.
He then threw himself on the bed burying his face in the pillow.
His mind just couldn't take the emotional roller coaster he had
been on for the last week.

     "Terry," a soft voice said.  It was Dan.  He sat on the edge
of the bed and reached out for his lover.  "Terry, it's okay."

     "Go away," Terry said as he turned his back on the boy
sitting next to him.

     "I just want to know what you're so upset about."

     "Well, I think that was a pretty shitty thing to say about
my best friend," Terry finally admitted.

     "Why?" Dan asked.  "Why is it so terrible, if it's true?
Why is it okay for you and me, but not for Paula and Melody?"

     "Melanie."

     "Melanie . . .  Or are you really saying it's not okay for
you and me?"  Terry didn't answer.  His mind was still struggling
with the inescapable logic of Dan's argument.  "Do you love me?"
Dan asked.  Terry again kept silent.  He wanted to say yes, but
he was still unsure.  Maybe it wasn't right for two men to love
each other.  After all, if it was okay then it must be okay for
Paula and her girlfriend as well.  And for some unknown reason,
Terry didn't want it to be alright between the two girls.  "Well,
I guess you answered my question," Dan said.  He got up and left
the room, leaving Terry alone with his thoughts.

                            *   *   *

     Terry must have fallen back asleep.  He was awakened by a
loud knocking on his door.  "Yeah?" he said as he sat up.

     Wayne entered the room.  "Sugar, you better get your ass
moving.  Don't forget you have a matinee this afternoon."

     Terry jumped up and began to grab for his clothes.  "What
time is it, and where's Dan?"

     "It's a little past noon," Wayne answered.

     "Where's Dan?" Terry repeated, stopping in his scramble to
get dressed.

     Wayne looked down and examined his fingernails intently.  "I
don't know.  He was pretty down because of whatever you said to
him earlier.  But I guess you'll see him at the show.  I made him
promise me he would be there.  After all, it closes this
afternoon."

     Terry took a quick shower, then dressed and headed for
campus.  He looked all over the theatre, but couldn't find his
lover anywhere.  He was about to give up and return to the
dressing room when Chet spotted him on the stairs.  "You tried
the house, back row?" he asked as he walked by.  Terry instantly
returned to the stage, walked down the steps to the house, then
headed up the aisle for the back of the auditorium.  As he got
closer he could make out a figure sitting in the center of the
back row.  Terry slipped between the seats and dropped down next
to his friend.

     "So, what's up, Michaelson?" Dan asked, his voice sounding
husky with emotion.

     "What's up with you?"

     "Just been thinking," came the reply.

     After a moment of silence, Terry said, "Dan, I'm sorry."

     "Yeah, me too.  It might have been great."

     "What?"

     Dan kept his eyes focused on the dark stage.  "You and me,"
he said.  "I'm going home."

     "What!?" Terry asked suddenly.  He felt as if he'd just been
punched hard in the stomach.

     "I talked to my folks.  Dad was pretty upset about the dorm
thing and the scholarship and all.  So anyway, I guess I'm gonna
drop out this semester and move back home.  I can't really afford
school on my own."

     "But I thought we had that worked out.  You can stay with
me."

     "I don't think so, Michaelson.  Maybe guys just aren't
supposed to live that way.  Besides, I think we both have a lot
of growing up to do before either one of us is ready to get
married and settle down."

     "But Dan . . ."  Terry's voice choked off.  He was finding
it hard to swallow, or breathe for that matter.

     "Maybe it's time for a change.  I wasn't doing so hot grade-
wise anyway.  I'm just a dumb jock."

     "You're not dumb," Terry managed.  "You're smarter than I am
about some things."

     "You think so?"  The man looked intently at Terry.  "I'm not
so sure.  I think I did a lot of things wrong."

     "Hey, guys.  The house is about to open," the stage manager
called as she looked out into the darkened theatre.  Just then
the house lights snapped on.  Dan quickly wiped his eyes, the
tears having been hidden by the darkness.

     "Let's go get me into my costume and makeup, one last time,"
Dan said as he gave his friend's arm an affectionate squeeze.