The following fictional narrative involves sexually-explicit erotic events between men. If you shouldn't be reading this, please move on.
In the world of this story, the characters don't always use condoms. In the real world, you should care enough about yourself and others to always practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.
Thanks and love to Tom for always patiently and carefully doing the editing chores, and to the rest of my Nifty Six colleagues.
Very special thanks and a big hug to Nifty author Paul Daventon (AuthorPaul) for reading all of this series and keeping me on track with regard to music and to life at a music conservatory.
When J.B. asked me that morning if we could get together again, I don't know what came over me. Ordinarily, I'd have put him off. We might have gotten together once or twice more, but that would have been the end of it. Twice and out. It took somebody very special to get a third night with me. I've just had too much fun playing around with all the great-looking studs available on a university campus to get serious about any of them. But when J.B. asked, without even thinking I suggested we get together that evening. We set something up before he left.
That afternoon I was sitting in my office and, since things were pretty quiet, I began to think about Bonner. Why was he different? What was there about him that would make me consider breaking my long-standing rule?
The boy was cute, but not strikingly handsome. He did have gorgeous big brown eyes. Sometimes they'd flash at me, but other times they were so soulful I just wanted to sit there and stare at them. Like I told him, though, he had a body type I really found sexy. He had muscles, but not much bulk. Wiry, I guess. And, probably, as long as he worked out and ate right, he'd keep on being built just like that. I loved seeing him naked. I loved having his long cock in my mouth and in my ass. I loved having my cock up his perky brown butt.
None of that would have been enough, though. I'd had a bunch of other guys whose bods turned me on. (Actually, "bunch" may be an understatement.) Something about J.B. was definitely different. I had to think about that for a while.
I realized that most of the guys I'd been with were either jocks or academic types. Shit, I'd been having sex with jocks since middle school. I'd been around one university or another ever since high school, and since coming to this one especially, I'd had my share of faculty men. Gabe Sutton was the only non-faculty guy I'd been with since coming there. And, despite his buffed and toned body, being with Gabe was pretty much like being with a faculty member. He was very intelligent, very well read. He even talked like a faculty member. Not that that's bad.
But, as I said, J.B. was different. He was younger than me by a couple of years, maybe, and I liked that. But what I liked best was that he was all man. He'd been in the Air Force for four years. He didn't have any more intellectual pretensions than I did. He was just a really nice, modest, masculine guy. Not stuck on his body the way a lot of jocks are, not stuck on his mind the way a lot of faculty men are. Just easy and fun to be with. And the sex was great.
As I grabbed my keys and began to lock up and go home, I realized that I was having feelings for Jay Bonner that I'd never had for anyone else. That was pretty scary. As I walked past Harry Knudson's office, I saw him sitting there. I hadn't realized he was still in the building.
One day late in the spring term I looked up to see Guy Mannington standing in the door of my office.
"What's up, boy?" He appeared to be nervous, and that was unusual for him.
"Got a minute, Coach?"
"Sure, come in and sit."
"Is it okay if I close the door?"
I nodded, so he closed the door and sat across from me.
"Must be important."
He gave me one of his beautiful smiles and said, "Yes, well, it is, I think."
He took a deep breath, smiled at me again, and said, "Harry, I've found someone special. Someone I think I want to have a monogamous relationship with."
I was tempted to laugh, but I didn't. The idea of this boy being faithful to any man for more than a week seemed impossible.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," he said, looking down at the floor for a moment, "I'm pretty sure."
"Do I know this man?"
"I dunno, Coach."
"Aren't you gonna tell me who he is?"
"Coach, I've not even talked with him about this."
"Well, then, why are you here?"
Another deep breath. "Because I want to make sure I'm free before I talk to him about a commitment."
"Oh, I see. You want to end our little – arrangement?"
"Shit, boy, if you have really found a partner and think you want to commit to him, more power to you. It's about time you quit sleeping around. I admit I'll miss that sweet ass of yours, but I'm glad you've found someone to care about. I deleted that picture of you and Bragge a long time ago, so you don't need to worry about that."
He stood and came around the desk. I stood up. We hugged. Then I slapped his tight little butt. "Now, Coach Mannington, get out of here before I change my mind! And keep me posted. I want to know who the lucky man is if you two come to some kind of understanding. Got it?"
He beamed. "Got it, Coach. Thanks!"
About a week before spring break, Gabe fulfilled one of my fantasies.
He came into the office at noon and locked the door. He was wearing a blue chambray shirt, jeans, and, of course, white socks and work boots. The first thing he did was to give me a long, deep kiss. Then he said, "Fuck me!"
"Here?" I squeaked. For months I'd dreamed of fucking Gabe while he was wearing his work boots, but I'd never thought of doing it in my office.
He took a small bottle of lube out of his shirt pocket and put it on my desk. Then he began to undress. I guess I stood there dumbfounded, for he asked, "Well, are you just going to stand there with your mouth open? I don't know what you're wearing in your fantasy, but shouldn't you at least unzip?"
When he got his shirt and tee off, he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his 501's. "I'm not gonna be able to get these off over my shoes, so I'll just have to leave them around my ankles."
I gasped when I saw that he wasn't wearing any underwear. I'd taken off my coat and hung it up when I came back to the office after class. My cock was so hard it hurt, and it didn't have anywhere to go in my jeans. So I just left my shirt, tie, and tee on and pulled them up around my pects. I dropped my jeans and boxers, allowing my throbbing, leaking cock to spring free.
He looked at my arousal and grinned. "This really is turning you on, isn't it, baby?"
"Yeah, but this doesn't really count, you know?"
"What do you mean?"
"If you don't take off your jeans, I can't see the work boots."
"Shit! I hadn't thought of that. Well," he said, shoving his hips forward to emphasize his own erection, "we'll just have to do that another day. Now, are you gonna fuck me or not?"
"Shaddup, Sutton, and lean over the desk!"
I decided not to use the lube. Instead, I squatted behind him, pulled his big, muscular globes apart and attacked his pucker with my tongue.
He let out a moan, and I had to remind him to be quiet, that there were people in the hallway outside my office. He managed not to make any noise, but the way he was wiggling his butt let me know that he appreciated my lingual activity. He was a little tight at first, probably because of the location, but it didn't take long to get him loosened up. Soon he was leaking precum on my desk and I was leaking it on the floor. Both of us were obviously ready.
I think it was difficult for each of us not to yell when I slipped my cock into that fantastic butt of his, but we knew we had to be quiet. The idea that we were fucking just a few feet from passing students, faculty, and staff made the whole thing that much more exciting.
Gabe is intelligent, sensitive, well educated, and generally an admirable person. At that moment, however, he became the hunky guy with a fantastic ass and work boots of my fantasy. As I pumped slowly in and out of his hot hole, I leaned over his back. "Bend your knees just a little, stud," I said. When he complied, I was able to suck on his neck at the spot where it joins his shoulder, one of my favorite places. I'm afraid he had a hickey there by the time we'd finished. All the while, I had reached around him and was playing with his nipples.
I learned that day how important it is to get some sort of feedback from your lover when you're having sex. I assumed that Gabe was enjoying the moment as much as I was. The fact that we had to be absolutely quiet made our sex hotter, but it was frustrating, too, not being able to let him know how excited I was, not being able to gauge his reactions.
Nature took its steamy course, however, and my hunky lover was spurting his seed onto my desk even before I was coming inside him. When our passion was spent, we realized we had some problems. There was the mess on the desk and the floor. We took care of that when I remembered I had a roll of paper towels in the bottom of the file cabinet. I'd brought it because I occasionally ate lunch at my desk, and they were handy for cleaning up dribbles and spills. The problem was what to do with them when I left the office. It smelled of our sex as it was, and I surely didn't want to leave cummy paper towels in the waste basket. I finally decided to put them into my book bag and dispose of them at home.
Gabe told me when he got home that evening that he had had to go to the men's room twice and mop up my jism that was oozing out of his ass.
That night in bed I made a point of showing him how grateful I was for making my fantasy come true.
B & G personnel get four weeks or less yearly vacation time, depending on how long they've been with the university. I qualified for the full four weeks, but I didn't have the long break at Christmas or the summer off as the faculty did. The point is, if I went to Seattle with Brent, I didn't want to stay the full ten days, since we'd already talked about going to New York that summer. That was fine with him. He wanted to see his mother and, he said, wanted her to meet me. So we took basically a long weekend.
We caught a United flight out of Cleveland Friday morning. We had to change planes at O'Hare, and we arrived at SeaTac about seven and a half hours after we left Ohio. We'd planned to rent a car and drive into Seattle, but Gale, Brent's mother, insisted on meeting us.
I'd seen pictures of her, but they didn't do her justice. I knew at once where Brent had gotten his looks. She was a tall, elegant, patrician-looking woman who might have been formidable. She spotted us coming down the concourse just as Brent spotted her. She smiled, but she stood and waited for us to come to her. As soon as we were close enough, however, she came toward us with her arms stretched wide, a broad smile on her face.
"My beautiful boys!" she said, hugging us together. She gave Brent a lingering kiss on the cheek. Then she released him and put a hand on either side of my face, as if she were studying it.
"Gabe, you're as handsome as he said you were. I'm so happy to meet you. Welcome to Seattle." Then she gave me a kiss on the cheek.
After we had claimed our bag (we'd decided to share one large case for the stuff we weren't carrying on), we made our way to her car. As she drove us to her home, she apologized that Spence hadn't been able to get away from work to greet us, but said he'd be with us all weekend. Then we could have Monday to do what we wanted, and we were to fly back to Ohio on Tuesday.
Spence evidently was doing well at Boeing, for they had an impressive three-bedroom condo on top of a hill with a magnificent view of water. I don't know exactly what water, since there's a lot of that around Seattle. I estimated there were approximately 3000 square feet in the place, which means it was pretty spacious. They'd converted one of the bedrooms into a computer room which could double as an extra guest room, but the bedroom where they put Brent and me was larger than the master bedroom in a lot of the houses my dad's company built back in Medina. It also had an attached bathroom.
I confess I was curious about Spence. Brent usually said that Spence was a great guy, but from time to time I sensed there was a certain amount of tension in their relationship. He'd admitted that Spence was wonderful to Gale. I just sensed some kind of problem there.
We certainly couldn't complain about the hospitality. Gale and Spence spent the whole weekend showing us the high points of the Seattle area. The only meals we ate at their place were breakfasts. We had dinner Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings as well as lunch on Saturday and Sunday at wonderful restaurants. Tuscan, Thai, French, and Japanese, among others. And all very pricey. They drove us past the Space Needle, but Spence said it was too touristy to eat there.
As the weekend went on, I was struck by several things. Seattle is a beautiful city, and I really wanted to come back when Brent and I had more time to explore its treasures on our own. Gale was just what she had seemed to be from the first, a gorgeous woman with a warm heart and a lot of charm. She was good to look at, interesting to talk with, fun to be around. She obviously doted on Brent, and she made me feel as if she loved me, too.
Then there was Spence. Spence was a very young-looking fifty. He had rather long, wavy blond hair that, I suspect, cost a lot to maintain. He wore tastefully subdued but expensive clothes, tending more toward Brooks Brothers than Armani. He was smooth, polished, friendly. And he spent a bundle on us that weekend. So what was wrong?
He reminded me of a politician. Yep, that was it. Insincerity. He was playing the role of charming, gracious host, but I sensed that we were merely a weekend project for him. As if he would make Gale happy by giving us the royal treatment. Funny thing is, I had the impression that he really did love Gale. Finally it dawned on me that that was it. He loved her. Maybe he really had problems with Brent being gay and with his bringing me along. So he decided to behave so impeccably Gale couldn't have any reason to complain after we'd left. But it was all a charade. As I said, he was playing a role for us the whole time.
It was something of a relief to have Monday to do with as we chose. Gale let us use her Volvo for the day. We went to the Myrtle Edwards park, the Seattle Art Museum, the original Starbucks, and – best of all for me – Pike Place Market, a huge farmer's market where I salivated because of all the magnificent produce. We even had lunch atop the Space Needle.
Gale proved that she was no mean cook that evening. For dinner she had prepared a wonderful bean cassoulet. She said she didn't know exactly when we'd be home, and that would keep until we were ready for it. She had fixed a lovely salad, and we had baguettes she'd asked us to pick up at the Pike Place Market.
This is as good a place as any to mention the weather, which was cool and gloriously sunny the whole time. Spence pointed out that the average rainfall for March was only an inch and a half.
As we sat on the plane for the long flight home, Brent mentioned that he'd thought of our joining the mile high club, but after thinking about how the two of us would have to squeeze even to get into the lavatory, he'd decided it wouldn't be worth the trouble. I chuckled. When he asked me what was so funny, I asked if he'd seen the episode of Queer as Folk where Emmett and his elderly lover had done just that, and the old guy had had a heart attack and died. He told me he'd never watched QAF until he and I had gotten together, and he'd seen none of the earlier seasons of the show.
Brent dozed off somewhere over the Dakotas, and I thought once more about Spence. I thought now I understood why Brent had gotten feisty with me one day when I had asked him why he didn't think of his stepfather as part of the family. Gale was a dear, and I loved her almost at once. But I was glad Spence wasn't a part of my family. Although, I supposed if Brent and I were a couple, he was family, in a way. So then I was just glad Spence was almost a continent away.
The trip to Seattle was fun in that Gabe and I were together for five days without having to think about either his work or mine. It was good to see my mother again. She and Gabe hit it off from the beginning, as I knew they would. Spence? Well, he was just Spence. I'm glad Gabe was able to meet him and draw his own conclusions. I didn't even have to ask him what he thought. He and I were so tuned in to each other that I could tell he reacted to Spence the same way I did. My step-father was simply too much. We did enjoy seeing something of Seattle. It's a beautiful city, and despite its reputation, the weather was gorgeous the whole time we were there.
Things got pretty busy as soon as we were back on campus, at least for faculty and students. I think the work of the B & G people was fairly even throughout the year, except for events like commencement, and they didn't have to set up for that for six weeks yet.
One pleasant event was Dane's performance at one of the student recitals. I listened to him play the Mahler at every lesson, and I sat in with him and Kurt at several of their practices together. I knew Dane had plenty of technique, but I was most pleased with the reading of the piece he and Kurt had worked out. Kurt was, as everyone said, a remarkable pianist for a 20 year old, but many of his suggestions to Dane showed a maturity that I found surprising. And, unlike some hot dog pianists, Kurt was a wonderful accompanist. He knew he was there to support and, in effect, showcase the soloist, and that's just what he did.
Do I sound as if I was pleased with my student? Well, I was. I was proud of him. Proud of them both. And they were so damned cute! After taking his bow, Dane, as is the custom, asked his accompanist to stand. Then they held hands and bowed. I think everyone in the hall knew they were boyfriends at that point, but they got lots of enthusiastic applause from the audience composed for the most part of Con students and faculty.
Gabe and I went to the Green Room, which was packed with well-wishers and friends of the dozen or so students who'd been involved in that evening's recital. We asked the boys if they'd like to come back to Gabe's place to celebrate. Gabe and I had prepared a little spread for them, and we turned a blind eye to the law by serving champagne, even though the boys weren't legally of age to drink.
After a suitable time, they asked to be excused. I was staying at Gabe's that night, so we'd told them they could have my place. We both knew they were grateful to Gabe for the wine and food and to me for being allowed to use my apartment, but we could also tell they wanted to have their own celebration. Alone. Together. Who could blame them?
The second semester was as busy as the first.
I had at least taken Brent's suggestion and asked Dean Bledsoe if I could postpone my solo recital until the following fall since the quartet was doing two recitals that year. She was a little reluctant, but she went along with my request. That was quite a relief. Now all I had to do was concentrate on my cello majors, the quartet's upcoming recital, and my social life.
The majors were fun for the most part, though I had a couple of guys who were a problem. I think one had a terrible crush on me, and the other tried to hit on me until I firmly put a stop to that.
Bruce McDermott and I "dated" regularly that semester. Perhaps "dated" isn't the word. We became lovers. Bruce was a talented writer. He was a kind, considerate man. Although he didn't look particularly sexy, he was a very satisfying lover. But there just wasn't any spark between us. I think he was perfectly happy with the relationship. He didn't seem to want it to go any further than it had. I was just someone to grace his arm, so to speak, at campus functions, and I was a convenient lay. I had to admit that it was convenient and reasonably pleasant for me, too, but I wanted more, so I decided at the end of the semester to break up with him.
What I really wanted was Brent Collins, and, alas, he wasn't available to me. He was obviously happily in love with Gabe Sutton. What a waste of good male flesh that those two were lovers! I loved them both, and I was glad they were so devoted to each other, but for two gorgeous men like that to be unavailable to the women of the university was a crying shame.
Speaking of Brent . . .
The quartet had been rehearsing for our spring recital all semester. We were playing the Mozart quintet for horn and strings, one of the late Beethoven quartets, and the Ravel. At the first scheduled rehearsal after spring break, Aaron Cohen, our first violin and the de facto leader of the group, had bad news for us. Roger Burton had fallen from a ladder while painting his kitchen during the break and had broken his left arm. It was in a cast and a sling. There was no way he was going to be able to play in the upcoming recital.
We were all dismayed, of course, not only for Roger but because that would mean we'd have to prepare something other than the Mozart, and that would be a bit difficult in the three weeks before the recital. Simon Weeks, our viola player, pointed out that there were several pieces we'd worked on the previous year and put aside. Perhaps, he suggested, we could dust off one of them.
"I have another idea," I said. They all looked at me expectantly. "I wonder if Brent Collins would do the Mozart. He told me he was more or less familiar with the piece, having worked on it with his horn professor at Columbia." They all remembered Brent's playing in the Schumann the previous semester and thought that would be a great idea. Selfishly, it would mean that we members of the quartet could go ahead and do the Mozart. If anyone was put in a bind, it would be Brent, not us. They deputized me to approach him about it.
I felt guilty about asking, because I knew he had his own classes and students to deal with, and I hated to put him on the spot. I rationalized, however, that he could always say no, and I wouldn't hold it against him if he did. But it was worth a try.
"Wow! You guys are so good! Are you sure you want me to play with you?"
"Yes, Brent. You'd really be helping us out."
"Any port in a storm, huh?" he asked, grinning. Before I could answer, he went on. "But we only have three weeks? And you're working on the Beethoven and the Ravel, which are much more difficult. Will you be willing to schedule extra practices on the Mozart?"
"I don't think that will be a problem. The others all understand that we're putting you under some pressure."
"Well, Rae, I'll be happy to do it. It will be an honor to play with your quartet, and I admit I've always wanted to do that piece."
So that's how it all came about.
The rehearsals went well. Brent didn't display the artistic temperament that Roger had. He pretty much went along with what the group had already worked out. He blended in so well with our ideas that I, for one, though sorry about Roger's accident, was happy Brent was going to play with us. Not only was he easy to get along with, but he played beautifully, too. He'd told me shortly after we met that Mozart was his favorite composer, and that came out in his playing.
>From spring break until the end of the term was a pretty exciting time.
First there was the student recital Kurt and I had to play in. Getting ready for that made me nervous, but both Brent and Kurt helped a lot. Everything went okay, though. We got nice applause when it was over, and then Brent and Gabe had a little party for us afterward. They had some stuff I'd never had before. Brie is a kind of soft, white cheese that went really well with the crackers they served with it. They even gave us champagne! I'd had that once before at home when my folks had a New Year's Eve party and let me have some champagne with the adults. This tasted a lot better. Anyway, I liked it. And it was so cool being there with my elegant Kurt and those two great-looking men. They also had caviar, which Kurt really enjoyed. I almost gagged when I tried it. I swallowed what I had on my cracker and must have made a face because Gabe smiled and winked at me when he saw it.
The evening didn't end there, either. After we left Gabe's house we went back to Brent's apartment where I spent a good part of the night letting Kurt know how grateful I was for his help with the recital and how much I loved him.
The second big deal at the Con that spring was that Brent had to fill in for Professor Burton and play a Mozart piece with the faculty string quartet. He only had three weeks to get ready. I asked him one day in the studio if he was nervous, and he admitted he was. He said he knew the piece from grad school, but that he was nervous about having a more or less featured role. I told him I knew he'd be great. He actually blushed, I think, when he thanked me.
The evening of the quartet recital Kurt and I got there early to get good seats. We saw Gabe in the lobby, and asked if we could sit with him. He said that was great with him but that he was going to sit near the back so he could slip out after the Mozart, which was first on the program, to go to the Green Room.
The players were arranged in a sort of horseshoe with the open end toward the audience. Brent was just to the right of the top of the horse shoe, so from left to right it was the first violinist, the two violists, Brent, and the cellist. They all looked great. The two women were wearing black dresses, and the men were all in tails. Professor Menzies was a beautiful woman, but I couldn't take my eyes off Brent. I'd always thought he was sex on wheels, and he looked especially good that night. Kurt sort of nudged me and grinned. I knew he knew what I was looking at and what I was thinking.
Oh, yeah, the music was great, too.
When I left the hall after the Mozart, I suggested that the boys should stay and listen to the Beethoven and the Ravel and then come to the Green Room. They agreed. I think Dane really wanted to come and congratulate Brent, but Kurt wanted to hear the other two works on the program, so they both stayed.
Brent wasn't in the Green Room when I got there, nor was he in the nearby restroom. I was puzzled for a moment, and then I got an idea. Sure enough, he was standing backstage where he could watch and listen to the quartet play the Beethoven. There was a student at the door from the hallway into the stage area, and he didn't want to let me in. I flashed my B & G card at him and told him I needed to check something. He got an eyeful when I went up behind Brent in the darkened backstage area, put my arms around him, and kissed the back of his neck.
Then I just stood next to him with my arm around his waist, whispered, "You were fabulous, babe," and we listened to the Beethoven.
At intermission we went back to the Green Room where the other members of the quartet were relaxing, fiddling with their instruments, sipping bottled water. When Brent walked in, they all told him how well he'd done and thanked him for taking on the challenge on such short notice. He thanked them for asking him to do it.
We stood in the back of the packed auditorium for the second half of the program, which was Ravel's lovely quartet. When that was over, while the audience was still applauding, Kurt and Dane spotted us and came back. We stepped into the lobby. Both boys hugged Brent and told him what a fabulous job he'd done. We all tried to get back in the Green Room, but by that time it was mobbed with student and faculty well-wishers.
Brent and I had been invited to a post-recital party at the home of Aaron Cohen, the quartet's first violinist, so we said goodnight to the boys and Brent thanked them for being there. For the first time, they both hugged me as well as Brent.
The party at the Cohens' was long, loud, and alcoholic. I knew most of the people there. Or I should say that I knew all the faculty there, by face and name at least, though several of them looked at me as if they'd never seen me before and were wondering who I was. There were two other same-sex couples, if my instincts could be trusted, but Brent and I were the only male pair. Roger Burton was there, arm still in a sling. He made a point of telling Brent what a good job he'd done. I thought that was pretty gracious of him. I'd heard he could be a prick sometimes, but that evening he was as nice as could be.
When we were undressing at home, I was finally able to ask Brent how he felt about it all.
"I'm on a real high, sweetheart. I never thought I would have any future with my horn, and that's one of the reasons why I did my doctorate in music history. Don't get me wrong. I love teaching, and I've got several articles I want to write and try to get published. But there's nothing quite like the rush you get during and after a performance when everything goes well. So things like the Schumann last semester and the Mozart tonight are bonuses, things I didn't expect when I took this job."
"Baby, I'm so proud of you. After tonight, I'll bet you'll be asked to play more and more."
"Well, Roger is the main hornist on the faculty, and I'd not want to step on his toes. But I do look forward to playing more. There's nothing quite like playing in a chamber group. To me it's more rewarding than solo work. And with a group the size of the one tonight, you really get attuned to what the others are thinking and feeling. There's no conductor up there telling you what to do. You just have to sense what the others are doing and become a part of the ensemble. It's really great!"
I grabbed him and kissed him. "Can you sense what I'm feeling right now?"
He chuckled. "I'd have to be unconscious not to feel that log you're poking me with. Let's go to bed."
Gabe reminded me in May that the tenants in the other side of his duplex would be moving out by the end of the month. He suggested that I rent it from him. He even said that if the rent was too much he'd make an accommodation for me. Actually, however, the rent wasn't excessive, and the idea of being under the same roof with him was wonderful. That way, we could be together as often as we wanted while appearing to live separately.
What the world didn't know was that Gabe had a door put between his unit and mine, so, though each of us had his own furniture, his own space, we were actually living together. I wasn't much concerned about what the world thought anyway, and now that Ralph and Jay Bonner and probably Gabe's whole crew knew that we were a couple, I didn't think we needed to worry about it any more. I was more than willing to proclaim to the world that Gabe Sutton was my man, and I think he must have been feeling the same way.
I suggested to Dane that he and Kurt might want to rent the apartment I'd had. He was excited by the suggestion, but he thought that money might be a problem for him, if not for Kurt. He asked me to give him a little time to see what he could arrange before I told my landlord I was moving out. That gave me an idea which I discussed with Gabe.
"Lover, would your dad have any summer jobs for college guys?"
"Why, do you need a summer job, baby?"
I gave him a hit on the shoulder and said, "No, of course not. You know I'm teaching music ap. in summer session."
"So who's the guy needing a job, as if I couldn't guess?"
"I think Dane and Kurt would like to rent my apartment. They really want to live together, and Kurt's share wouldn't be much more than he's paying to live in the dorm. But Dane's been living at home, and he needs a summer job to make some money to put toward rent on the apartment."
"Well, dad usually does hire on some college guys for summer help. But Dane looks a little small for the kind of labor that might be involved. It isn't always gopher work, you know. Sometimes it's pretty physical."
"I don't think he'd mind, if there were something available."
The upshot was Dane was eager to work, and Gabe's dad found a job for him with Sutton Construction for the summer. Kurt enrolled in the summer session so he could continue to study with Nadia, and Dane moved out of his family home so that he and Kurt could move into the apartment. That meant Dane had almost an hour's commute each way, but it was summer, and he didn't mind that at all, especially since he and Kurt were together every night and had their weekends to spend with each other.
I think of this as primarily Brent's story. You've figured out that "B & G" stands not just for Buildings and Grounds but for Brent and Gabe as well, I suppose. Somehow, though, I've wound up having the final word.
It was the best year in my life so far, a happy year for some people I care about. A very unlikely couple, somehow Jay Bonner and Guy Mannington have gotten together. They make a study in contrasts, the tall, thin black man and the short muscular blond. Quiet, unassuming Jay, or J.B. as Guy likes to call him, managed to turn Guy from his philandering ways and make him happily monogamous. Or so Jay kept telling me, with great enthusiasm, at work.
Dane and Kurt were so adorable as they lived and loved and made music that summer and throughout their college careers, Brent and I felt like proud parents, or at least proud big brothers as we watched them and mentored them.
And I -- well, who ever would have thought at the beginning of the year that I would be so happy, so much in love as I became with Dr. Brent Collins? This was the real thing, and both of us knew it. We understood that there would always be problems in the life of any couple, but we were ready to face them as a loving couple, and we were confidant that nothing insurmountable would come along.
The biggest thing looming on the distant horizon was what would happen when I left my job at B & G and went to work with my dad. I had always assumed that eventually I'd step into the business, but I was having too much fun working at the university to do it right away. Down the road, however, both Brent and I knew that Dad would retire and I'd take over the business.
It wasn't all that bad, though. Medina was only about an hour from campus, and Dane, after all, was making that drive five days a week all that summer. If Brent didn't want to let me build us a house in Medina, I'd understand that. In fact, I'd probably worry about him doing that driving in the winter. So, Sutton Construction could build us a house near the university, or perhaps somewhere between the two cities.
Brent and I knew we'd work all that out when the time came. We knew that because we were a committed couple, because we loved each other.
[Well, that's it for Brent, Gabe and the others. Hope you've enjoyed reading about them. -- Tim]