by Tim Mead
When he woke up the next morning Jeff was aware that he'd just been dreaming of Paul Moretti. They'd been having sex, Jeff on his back, legs on Paul's shoulders. He pushed with his hands against the dark man's chest as he urged, "Deeper, faster."
He recognized the ambivalence manifested there. Paul had seemed pleasant enough – and terribly attractive – when he first appeared the previous Saturday morning.
But fucking a guy the first time he'd ever seen him? What was he thinking? He'd never given up his ass to a total stranger. And he didn't even think of himself as a bottom. At least not primarily a bottom.
However, Jeff didn't think he'd actually encouraged the man to fuck him over the kitchen counter. And what was up with the comment Paul had made to Macey? It seemed he was trying to warn her that Jeff was gay. As if Macey didn't know he was gay.
Ah, but Paul, seeing how Jeff and Macey had interacted at the car show, might have assumed they had a straight relationship. And thus he was warning her? Or was it more? Was he warning her off? Did he want Jeff for himself?
Or was Jeff imagining too much? He decided he might not see Paul again until the car needed to be serviced and that he'd just try to put the mechanic out of his mind, sexy as he'd first appeared.
Later that morning, having coffee in the parish hall after the early Eucharist, he saw Stan and Doug, who both hugged him. After the usual greetings were exchanged, Jeff's first question was about Mark.
The smiles on the faces of the two men faded.
"He's gonna make it," Stan said. "But he's got at least one more operation coming up and then there'll be a lot of therapy after that. It remains to be seen how well he'll be able to walk."
"But he'll be able to do his job, won't he?"
"Most likely. It's all desk work."
"How's his boyfriend doing?"
"Casey is his spouse. And once it was clear Mark was going to make it, he's been a rock. There's more to that boy than I thought."
Doug elbowed Stan, who nodded, cleared his throat, and changed the subject.
"Jeff, we have the dildos at home."
"Sorry about Julia's letter. I imagine it was a pip."
Stan grinned. "You really have my condolences."
"Thanks. We just stay out of each other's lives."
"Well, I'm sorry the dildos brought you back in touch. But Phil would have his jokes, the devil."
"Yes, I can imagine him and Buddy chuckling."
Stan glanced around. "The reason I mentioned, those . . . objects, is that since they were part of the contents of the house, they revert to you. We'll try to get them to you sometime, or you can pick them up."
Jeff chuckled. "Don't know what I'm gonna do with `em, but . . ."
"You could use them to decorate your Christmas tree," Doug said mischievously.
"Oh, can you imagine if Etta saw them? God knows what she thinks of me anyway, but that would make me the talk of the town for sure."
As the three of them laughed, the rector approached them.
"Good morning, gentlemen. It's good to hear happy laughter in the parish hall. Would I be intruding if I asked what occasioned it?"
Jeff was dumbstruck. He certainly wasn't going to explain to Father Pete about the dildos, and he didn't want to lie to the priest, either.
"Oh," Stan said, "we were just remembering Jeff's uncle's delicious sense of humor."
The rector nodded. "Yes, Phil managed to lighten some tense moments in the Vestry, as I recall."
Ian hadn't said exactly when he'd arrive that afternoon, so as soon as he'd had his lunch, Jeff got the
He had just finished tidying up the kitchen after his lunch when he heard a car door slam in the straight drive, the one that went from the street, past the house, to the three-car garage in back. He went outside to find Ian, looking eager. The boy had on faded jeans, a maroon tee, and an unbuttoned blue shirt.
After the customary handshake, Jeff said, "I didn't see you on the trail this morning."
"I run on school mornings, since I have to get up early anyway. But Sundays it's kinda nice to sleep in."
"Yeah, it's pretty tempting sometimes. So, you ready to take some pictures?"
"Sure am! I see you left the top down. And I like where you parked it. I can get some with your house in the background and some with the lake. Man, that car's awesome!"
"I'm glad you appreciate her. Looks like you brought a camera instead of just your phone."
Ian glanced at the small digital camera he was holding. "Uh huh. This gets lots better definition."
"Well, bud, just go ahead and snap away. Then if you want we can take a little drive."
Ian's face lit up. "We can? That'd be so cool!"
Jeff sat on the front steps while Ian took pictures from every conceivable angle, working his way around the car, stretching sometimes with the camera over his head, squatting sometimes, stopping to look at the camera occasionally to examine what he'd captured. When he was satisfied, he pointed to the chrome letters down the side of the hood which spelled out SUPERCHARGED. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know much about the specifics, but a supercharger forces more air through the engine, and that gives it more horse power."
Ian took a close-up of the chrome letters. "Awesome! Could we take that drive now?"
Once they were both in the car, Jeff started the engine and pulled out of the drive onto
"That's the supercharger."
"Jeez, I love that! You get the rumble of the engine and on top of that the whine of the supercharger. There's a thingie on the grill that says this is an eight, right?"
"Uh huh. This still has its original engine, though it's been rebuilt. It's a straight eight."
"Yeah, I read about that. The engine and the rest of the car were built in
"Yeah, the Lycoming motors had an excellent reputation. And Lycoming went on to build airplane engines during World War II."
"I wonder if the hood's so long because of the straight eight engine."
"Well, it makes for a good fit. But I think in the twenties and thirties cars with long hoods were just in fashion. I saw pictures not long ago of two '33 Chrysler Phaetons. Except for the color they were identical on the outside. But one had a straight eight and the other had a V/8."
They drove a while in silence. Jeff enjoyed the feel of the late fall sun on his skin and the wind in his hair. Ian seemed similarly happy.
When he had circled around and they were once more on
"Yeah, my old clunker Civic."
"Does it have a stick shift?"
"No, it's automatic. I've never driven a car with a stick."
"Oh. Sorry about that. I was going to offer to let you drive, but I really don't want you learning to use a clutch on this car."
"Man! I'd love to drive this thing. But I'd be afraid to, I think, even if I could use a stick."
They pulled into the driveway.
"How'd you like to help me put the top up? Then you can take some pictures of it that way?"
The job went much more quickly with a second set of hands. When they were done, Ian took a few more pictures.
That done, Jeff asked if he'd like to come in for a soda.
"Sure! I mean, my Mom said I wasn't to take up your whole afternoon or anything, but I'd like that."
Jeff grinned. "I can show you some of the information I have about the car. It might save us having to email back and forth."
They got Cokes and took them into what Jeff still thought of as Uncle Phil's office. There he pulled out the folder with Agatha's complete history and showed it to Ian. They sat and sipped their sodas while Ian looked through the folder.
"Wow! Can you make copies of this?" He handed Jeff a page. "And this? And this? This'll be about all I'll need. I'll do a background on the Auburn/Cord/Duesenberg Company and then use all this detail for a history of your car."
Jeff made the requested copies, put them in a manila folder, and handed them to Ian.
"Thanks," the young man said. "Um, I guess I should go. I've used up enough of your afternoon."
"No need to rush off. You know you've never told me your last name? Or where you live? If you leave now I'll have to think of you as Ian the mystery boy."
Ian straightened his shoulders. "Um, no offense. But I'm not a boy. I'm nineteen. I voted in the elections. And I'm a college man now."
"I'm sorry, bud. Let's go sit. I think it'll be nice on the screen porch. And you can tell me more. Want another Coke?"
"No, I'm good thanks. But I'll stay a little while. I've been wanting to talk with you, but I just didn't want to be pushy."
When they were seated, Jeff said, "Okay. Who are you?" He smiled so Ian wouldn't think he was being interrogated.
"I'm Ian Harkness. We live in Scots Bluff. I don't know whether you know it or not, but that's a subdivision up on the hill near the
"Oh, yeah. It's off of
"Uh huh. Close enough that I walked to high school."
"And now, I think you said you go to
"Yeah. The Cypress Haven campus."
"What about your family? You mentioned your mom?"
"She teaches English and journalism at Lake Polk High. Dad was a dentist, but he got killed in
"I'm sorry, Ian. I'm sure you both miss him"
They chatted in that fashion for a while longer. Jeff learned that Ian hadn't yet decided on a major. He also got the impression that Mrs. Harkness, Helen, wasn't eager to have her son move away to a bigger but more distant school.
When the conversation paused, Ian began to look uncomfortable and to fidget.
"Is something wrong, Ian?"
"Well, um, I, well I just . . . ."
"It's okay. Just say it. Or ask it. There's something you want to tell me or to ask me, isn't there?"
Ian took a deep breath. "Yeah, there is. Don't be mad at me. But are you gay?"
Jeff sighed. "I suppose the question was inevitable. After all, I'm living here where the town's two best-known queers lived. One of them was my uncle. Maybe something rubbed off. Is that what you were thinking?"
Ian blushed. "Well, yes, sir, something like that."
"Forget the `sir' stuff. I'm still Jeff. And although I don't broadcast it, because it's not really anyone's business, I never deny I'm gay when asked point blank." He smiled and looked the boy in the eye. "How about you, Ian? Are you gay?"
"Ohmygod! Do I act gay?"
"Not really. But you're not insensitive. And the only other reason you would have asked me such a personal question would have to be that you were hoping the answer was yes."
Ian took a deep breath. Expelled it. Grinned sheepishly. "Busted."
"Do you want to talk about that?"
"You sound like a shrink."
"Sorry. I'm just wondering why you brought up the subject."
"I've never known any gay people."
"You probably do."
"Yeah, well. There's my cousin Billie. But I don't see him very often. And we don't – " He seemed to catch himself before he admitted something.
"You don't fool around any more?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"An easy guess. But seriously, you didn't have any gay friends in high school?"
"Are you kidding? This is
"You look like you might have played a sport."
"Yeah, I did. Soccer."
Mentally congratulating himself for his guess, Jeff said, "And they never knew about you being gay?"
"If they did, they didn't say anything."
"How about now. In college? Still in the closet?"
"Oh, yeah! I still live at home, here in
"I'm not in any way condoning what happened to him, but you do need to take some sensible precautions. Like who you come out to and where. Apparently that young man didn't."
"Have you ever watched One Girl, Five Gays on LOGO?"
"Well, those guys keep saying all gay people should come out, that it really does get better, that if your family and friends really love you they'll accept you."
"You know where those guys live?"
"That's right. And
"Oh, that's harsh!"
"So, all I'm sayin' is that, yeah, it would be nice to find some gay friends. Not just to have sex with, but to have somebody to talk to about, well, about being gay. But promise me you'll be cautious, okay?"
"I wish I could have gone to someplace like
"Ian, maybe someday you can transfer. But meanwhile, you're here. So I mean it. Promise me you'll be careful."
Ian grinned. "Yes, Dad. I promise."
"In view of the age difference, I think `Brother' might be more appropriate. Now, remember this. If you ever need someone to talk to, call me."
"Cool! I'm sure I'll have lots of questions. But I've taken up enough of your afternoon. And Mom gave me a list of things to pick up at Wal-Mart before I go home. So I'd best be going." He stood up. "But, Jeff, man, thanks for everything. For the chance to take the pix, all that information about Agatha, and your offer to be there for me."
"You're welcome, bud."
At lunch the next day, Macey seemed more than usually bouncy.
"So, you gonna tell me your news?"
"How'd you know I have news?"
"I can read you as well as you read me, Mace."
"Okay. So what am I about to tell you?"
"Well, I'm not so sure about that. I just know you're bustin' to tell me something. So spill!"
"I met this gorgeous guy and we have a date this weekend."
Jeff made a circular motion with his right hand, meaning, Tell me more.
"He was at church yesterday. Our pastor welcomed him and had him stand up. And then we talked during the fellowship afterward."
"So he's new in town?"
"Sort of. His folks live here. His dad's a regional rep for some company."
"Does he live with his parents?"
"No. He's in the Air Force with six months of active duty left. He's stationed at MacDill until he gets out."
"Okay. So get to the important stuff."
She fanned her face with her hand. "He's over six feet tall, has wonderful blue eyes and red hair. I think the hair might have a tendency to curl if he didn't wear it so short. Oh, and he's got a fantastic butt!"
Jeff raised an eyebrow. "A firecrotch, huh?"
She slapped his hand. "I haven't seen that!"
He grinned. "Yet. And does this hunk have a name?"
"Captain George Ferguson."
"And he's taking you out this weekend?"
"It's just dinner and a movie."
"That's cool, Mace. A week from today I'll want a complete report."
"Of course." She touched her napkin to her lips and put it back in her lap. "Now, I want to talk about that guy at the car show the other night."
Jeff was pretty sure she didn't mean either Sam or Ian. "You mean Moretti?"
"Uh huh, if he's the dark, sinister one. I thought he assumed you and I were a couple and he was trying to warn me off. What's going on between you two?"
Jeff could feel the blood rush to his face. "Nothing! Nothing's going on!"
"Oh, Jeffie, you had sex with him, didn't you? Look at you! You're blushing!"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay, sweetie. Obviously it didn't go well. So you won't be seeing him any more?"
"I've never seen him in that sense. He's just the son of the guy in Sebring who's always taken care of the
She gave him an evil grin. "Well, jerk or no, there is a kind of primal attraction about him."
"I don't want to talk about it. Besides, we have to get back to work."
Thursday evening. Jeff had just turned out the kitchen lights and was about to settle in front of the TV when the doorbell rang.
It was Paul Moretti.
"Oh, it's you. What do you want?"
"That's a surly greeting for a guy who not long ago had my dick up his ass."
Jeff looked around. None of the neighbors was out, and no one was passing on the sidewalk. Paul's flashy truck was in the front drive.
"I suppose you'd better come in."
Once they were both inside, Jeff closed the door and turned to face his visitor.
"Okay. Now, you want to tell me what brings you here without a heads up of any kind?"
Paul's eyes raked Jeff from face to crotch and back again.
"When I was here last time, I took care of your car, and then we humped, and I had to go. This time I thought we might just talk, get to know each other better."
Paul smiled and nodded. "Yeah."
"You've got some balls. You practically raped me and then you creeped out my friend."
"Whoa! You wanted it. I saw you checking out my ass and my cock all the time I was working on the
"As I recall, you didn't ask until you were diddling me with your finger! And why did you say what you did to Macey?"
"I just thought you might be stringing her along and that she ought to know she's wasting her time with you."
"Macey's known from the beginning, and – "
"So she's your beard?"
"No, dammit! Not that this is any of your business, but I don't deny I'm gay. I just think my sexual orientation doesn't define me. And in this part of
"Aren't you gonna invite me to sit down?"
"I don't think so."
"But we're starting to learn about each other, which is why I came."
"If you had bothered to do that before you yanked my pants down, we might be having a civil conversation right now."
"I can do civil."
"I'm not ready for that."
Through clenched teeth Jeff growled, "I didn't say that!"
Paul grasped the doorknob. "Well, Jeff, when you're ready for civil – or if you just want your ashes hauled – you know how to get in touch with me."
And with that he was gone.
As Jeff flopped into his recliner he heard the truck start up and drive away.
The garage out back had three overhead doors, one for each bay. Each had its own opener, each with its own remote. When Jeff started to work on Friday morning, the door for his Subaru wouldn't open with the remote. So he had to use the button inside the garage and go out the side door. And lock that with his key.
Saturday morning he decided to go in search of a new battery for the remote. So a little after nine he set out for Dudek's Hardware, hoping to find not only a battery but a sexy proprietor.
The store was busy, full of shoppers on that December Saturday morning. Not only was Sam there, but his parents, Karen and Victor as well. The most crowded section of the store was the one that contained Christmas ornaments, tinsel, and lights. Jeff smiled at Karen as he edged his way past a woman with two kids trying to decide on an artificial wreath. He thought fleetingly how nice it would be to have a fresh evergreen wreath on his door, but those tend not to last long in
The aisle with batteries of all sizes wasn't as deserted as he might have expected. People were stocking up on AA and AAA batteries for Christmas toys and electronics. But what he wanted was more like a hearing aid battery. He found a spinning rack and bent down to see if he could find a package with the right number on it.
Just then he felt someone's legs against his ass.
"Can I help you find something, sir?"
Jeff stood up, his cock beginning to plump. "Oh, hi, Sam. Doing a good business this morning, huh?"
Sam's smile didn't do anything to lessen the growing that was going on below.
"We'd better. It's not just an old wives' tale that the Christmas trade can make or break our year. Whatcha lookin' for?"
"I'm embarrassed to say that I'm not here for a very big purchase." He took the dead battery from his pocket and handed it to Sam.
Sam twirled the rack and took off a flat piece of cardboard with a battery attached under clear plastic film. "You've got three doors on your garage, right?"
Smiling again, Sam said, "Well, we always claim we won't try to sell you more than you need of an item, but Phil and Buddy always replaced those batteries at the same time. Not a bad idea."
"Okay. Your high-pressure sales pitch has won me over. I'll take three."
"I'll bet you didn't change the batteries in your smoke alarms when you set your clocks back."
"Uh, no. I didn't."
"I know they were changed last spring, so you should be all right. But I'll remind you to do it for sure when we `spring forward'."
"That'd be good, thanks."
Jeff found that he really didn't want to leave the beautiful man. Sam had the most amazing shoulders and very narrow hips. The glutes protruded provocatively, but from hipbone to hipbone there wasn't much distance. The two men were about the same height, but Jeff was much more straight up and down.
Sam handed Jeff the batteries. "Mom's working the register, so she'll ring you up. But before you get away, uh, are you busy this evening?"
"Sam, I'm almost never busy on Saturday evenings. The car show the other night was the first time I've gone out after supper since Phil died."
"Then you definitely need to get out. Can't have you becoming a hermit in that big old house, can we?"
"What did you have in mind?" Whatever it is, I'm ready!
"Have you been to the new Italian place on Highway 60? It's called Arpeggio."
"No. I don't even know where it is."
"It's on the south side of the road a little west of the
"Sounds great. What time? And what's the dress code?"
"You'll see snowbirds there in shorts or sweatpants, so they obviously aren't fussy. Locals, though, tend toward dressy casual. After all, it's one of the nicest places in town. Slacks rather than jeans, maybe? And I'll call in an hour or so when they're open and get us a reservation. I'll try for 7:00, if that's okay."
"Sam, you've brightened my day. Seven it is."
"I'd offer to pick you up, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to get away. So we'd better meet there. If there's any problem with the reservation, I'll call you. Okay?"
"As my new friend, Ian, would say, awesome!"
"Oh, that's the kid at the drive-in last week?"
"Well, you can tell me about him. And I'm sure we'll find lots of other things to talk about."
They said goodbye. Jeff went about his other Saturday errands and chores in a state of happy anticipation.
Arpeggio was a small restaurant in a building Jeff would have sworn used to be a beauty salon. He counted fifteen tables.
It was nothing like the big Italian franchises, Macaroni Grill or The Olive Garden. Nor was it your typical mom-and-pop spaghetti house. No red checked table cloths here!
The all-male wait staff didn't wear formal gear exactly, but they did have black chinos, white shirts, black vests, and black bow ties.
The tables had white cloths with plate glass on top, which gave a more upscale appearance and managed to be practical at busing time.
He had just told the greeter, a good-looking 30-something man with an Italian accent, that he was meeting a friend there and that the reservation was under Dudek when Sam himself came in. The two were shown to a table in the corner.
The restaurant was doing a good business. Several people waved and called hello to Sam.
The greeter gave them menus and asked about drinks.
"Jeff, I don't know what your experience has been with chianti. I admit mine was never good. But the house chianti here will surprise you if you care to give it a try."
The greeter smiled and nodded. So Jeff said he'd have the chianti.
When he left Sam said, "I'm sorry I was late. Normally we can close a little early on Saturday evenings, but today we had some who weren't quite finished by closing time, and you can't very well shoo customers out the door."
Jeff was mesmerized by his friend's gray eyes. And it occurred to him that people who looked good in a pony tail had to have great facial features, which the pulled-back hair tended to emphasize. And Sam looked fantastic . . . though it would be fun to see what he looked like with the dark blond hair down.
He realized he'd been zoned out. "Sorry, man. Got distracted there for a minute." He felt himself blushing.
"Care to tell me what made you tune out?"
"I'd better not. Please go on."
"Oh, it wasn't important. I was just yammering on about the holiday trade."
Sam grabbed a roll and began to butter it. "Sorry, but I didn't get any lunch. I'm starved."
Jeff took a roll, too, and they munched while studying the menus. They were chatting about the FSU football game Jeff had watched that afternoon when the waiter returned. He was a cute, sandy-haired guy, about 5'8".
"I'm a full-time student at
"What's your major?" Jeff asked.
"I'm hoping to become a nurse some day."
"That's a long road. Good luck!"
The boy had a beautiful smile. His patients are gonna love him, Jeff thought.
Sam ordered the ossa buco special and Jeff had veal piccata. They had a choice of three different soups or two salads. Both chose the house salad.
They agreed their meals were excellent. Jeff thought the mixed vegetables served with his veal cutlets were particularly good. So often, even in fairly pricey places, the mixed veggies looked and tasted as if they'd been steamed and given no seasoning. These had been sautéed and were very tasty.
Conversation flowed easily. Sam was a pleasure to be with.
When they were finished and the table cleared,
"The tiramisu here is wonderful," Sam said, "light as a cloud."
As it turned out, they both asked for the crème brulée, which, served flaming, was the best Jeff had ever had.
After they'd paid their checks, Jeff said, "Sam, if you're not too tired, would you like to come back to my place? I made some brownies this afternoon. We could have them a little later with coffee or milk. And you did say you were starved."
The look Sam gave him made him tingle. Apparently the attraction was mutual. "Well, dude, I'm sure as hell not ready to call it a day yet. So, yeah, meet you at your place."
Take it slow, Elder. This is only the first date, after all.
Back at the house, Jeff slipped off his loafers and encouraged Sam to do so, too.
They settled together on the sofa and turned on the big flat screen TV.
"Can I get you anything? Beer? Wine? Coffee? Anything?"
"Not yet, thanks, Jeff. We just ate, remember? So relax. Your hosting duties are taken care of. Let's just settle in and watch the game for a while."
You can't grow up male in the South and not watch and talk about football. Both men enjoyed the game, admiring the polish of the
"You know they wear a different uniform to every game, don't you?"
"No," Sam replied, "I hadn't heard that. How come?"
"One of their alums is a big shot at one of the sporting goods manufacturers, so they get a special deal."
"Come to think of it, they do seem to have a lot of different combinations."
"Yeah, yellow, white, black, gray, and green. Some of them look as if they've just got to have a gay designer!"
"More power to `em. But can you imagine if an SEC team showed up in something with feathers on the shoulders?"
Jeff snorted. "Not even in the ACC! No way!"
He enjoyed sitting next to Sam on the sofa. It was only when he was this close that he could notice the faint, citrusy aftershave his friend wore.
At halftime, he casually put his hand on Sam's knee. "Still too full for brownies?"
"Oh, I think I could choke down a few."
"Should I make some coffee?"
"Did you say you've got milk?"
"I try not to drink coffee too late in the evening. Sometimes I don't sleep so well."
"You know there's some caffeine in the chocolate, don't you?"
"I'll pretend you didn't tell me that."
Jeff held out his hand. Sam took it, and they went to the kitchen. Jeff cut the pan of brownies into squares and poured them each a tumbler of milk.
"Grab a couple of paper napkins out of that dispenser on the table there, please."
Sam did, and they carried their snack to the coffee table in front of the sofa.
"These are good! And I love `em with walnuts."
"Thanks. They're from a mix."
When they had finished, Sam seemed to be sitting a little closer than he had been before. Jeff didn't mind.
Later, as the game was drawing to a close, Jeff jumped. Sam had lightly stroked the short hairs on the back of his neck.
"Sorry if I startled you. I just wanted to see how you'd react." Sam looked into his eyes as if he were searching for something.
Jeff shivered again. "So now you know. I'm very sensitive there."
"Do you mind?"
Jeff grinned. "Not if I get to check out your sensitive places."
Soon they were kissing and groping feverishly. When Jeff had his hand inside Sam's shirt, rubbing a nipple, Sam was trying to give Jeff a hickey on his neck.
"Oh, fuck, that feels good! But please stop. I can't show up at work Monday with a hickey."
Sam pulled away, his reluctance evident on his face. "Can we just kiss instead?"
Jeff grabbed him and demonstrated how welcome that suggestion was.
Eventually both men were highly aroused, as evidenced by the tents in their dress slacks.
"You know, Jeff, I usually don't go all the way on the first date."
Jeff took a deep breath, hoping to calm his racing heartbeat. "Me neither, actually."
Sam picked up his glass from the coffee table and drained the last bit of milk.
"I hate it when guys talk about their exes on the first date, and we've not done that."
"Right. I agree."
"But it wouldn't be talking about exes if I asked if there's anybody special in your life right now."
"How about that kid, Ian? Are you interested in him?"
"Oh, god, no! Not that way. I feel more like he's a kid brother." He paused and grinned. "Actually he makes me think of a puppy."
"And how about Paul Moretti? I'm not sure what happened between you guys at the car show last week. Is anything going on there?"
"Believe me, nothing's going on there. I do not like Mr. Moretti. I hope I'll never see him except when I have to have Agatha serviced. Now, turn about's fair play. Do you have any current boyfriends? You seem to know everybody in the county."
"Yeah, I've lived here all my life, and I worked in the store during high school and after the university. So I know a lot of folks. But no current boyfriends." He grinned. "Got a hot prospect, though."
"Anybody I know?"
Sam stood and pulled Jeff up. "Yeah, you know him. And I'm hoping to get to know him much more intimately after our second date."
"Our second date? You mean me?" Jeff knew exactly what Sam was saying. He just wanted to hear it reaffirmed.
"Do you think I make out with every guy I have dinner with?"
"I certainly hope not."
He'd had enough. He put his hands behind Sam's head and pulled him forward, grinding his hard cock against Sam, whose cock was equally hard. They kissed, tongues dueling, until both were breathless.
Finally, Sam said, "Hey, Jeff. We have a choice here. I can go home, or we can go upstairs. And I think we agreed upstairs wasn't gonna happen tonight. I'd better be on my way while I can still control myself."
Again Jeff had to take a deep breath. "Okay. Let me see. What am I supposed to say? Oh, I know. It's been nice. Thanks for introducing me to Arpeggio. And for being such good company this evening. Shall we do it again sometime?"
Sam laughed. "You'd better believe it, buster! I'll call you."
He gave Jeff a quick peck on the lips and left.
Jeff locked the door, put the glasses, plates, and forks in the machine, and covered the brownies. He found himself humming as he turned out the lights. Upstairs he undressed, brushed his teeth, and got into bed, where he did what any other healthy young gay male would have done under the circumstances.
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