Date: Sun, 4 Apr 2021 09:49:35 -0500
From: timothylane414@gmail.com
Subject: Adult friends: Extracurricular, Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Missed you last night," I texted before heading to school.

I taught through the entire morning hoping to feel a buzz in my pocket. I
did not. What was up with that?

It was only half a day. Why was I so neurotic over Trent not texting? I'm
sure nothing was wrong. I had lunch shortly. I could just call.
Fortunately, I was well prepared for my lessons, so they went smoothly.
That kept me focused. When my students did well, it was rewarding. I really
did want each one to succeed. During the last ten minutes of my Creative
Writing class, I had a few students read a passage of their paper. The
assignment was to write about one of the strongest emotions they
encountered with the last week. I called on Peter if he'd like to share.
His writing spoke of having anxiety. While the passage was centered around
the fear of driving and being made fun of if his friends found out, I
thought it very symbolic of what Trent was going through. For Peter to
admit this to his classmates was a bold step. I made sure to offer some
additional praise after class, not only for his writing skills, but for his
courage to read that out loud. He seemed appreciative.

In the teacher's lounge, I grabbed some ice and filled my glass. Pouring my
Diet Dr. Pepper over the ice, I called Trent while waiting for the foam to
go down. I took a sip just as he answered. A hint of Dr. Pepper fizz was in
my moustache.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi. I'm glad you picked up. I hadn't heard from you for a while. How's
your day?" I asked.

"Okay."

"Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine. Just tired."

"How did last night go?"

"Fine," he answered unemotionally.

"Did you get the set finished?" I asked.

"Oh. Yeah. It's done. The group was really happy with it. We found a way to
make it a little lighter. That helped."

"Good."

He didn't offer anything further. Trent didn't seem as playful as usual.

"Can we get together tonight? Do you have practice?" I asked.

"Um. Yeah. Both. I could come over afterward. Will that work?" he answered.

"Sure. How about 7:30?"

"Okay. Hope the rest of your day goes well. I'll see you tonight," he said
before abruptly hanging up.

Odd. He didn't seem himself, but then again, I'd only known Trent this way
for hardly a week. Everyone was entitled to their moods I supposed. It
would have been strange for him to be "over me" just like that, so I felt
confident he was preoccupied with something else, or just tired as he had
said.

I finished classes but had a faculty meeting this afternoon. Tuesdays. Ugh.
For the most part, I liked my fellow workers. I wanted to avoid the idiot
who fouled up the schedule. I looked around. Two faculty members knew I was
gay. I sat with one of them.

Our conversation started with the whole schedule debacle. She was as peeved
as I was. It had thankfully resolved itself, but the whole mess had been
unnecessary. Then I offered more. I rarely — actually, never — freely
offer any details about my personal life. For some reason, I felt the need
to share. Perhaps Peter's courage in my class inspired me.

"I'm seeing someone," I whispered to my coworker.

"Get out! It's about time. You and Ethan called it quits last summer. Give
me some details," she directed.

"Younger than me. It's a bit odd, but I'm loving it."

"How'd you meet?" she whispered.

I scribbled the words "former student" on a notepad.

She gasped as she saw the words. Then she shot me a look of disbelief. Then
she noticed she had attracted the attention of a few people around us.

She grabbed my pen and wrote down "We WILL talk tomorrow."

I left school a bit giddy after confiding with her. I'm rarely silly with
faculty members — probably something I should work on — and it was
great to feel she was really interested. And cared. Trent was so concerned
about what his friends would think of him when he came out. Was I really
any better? It was my choice to keep my life private; it wasn't a decision
out of fear. But was my being uncomfortable about opening up really that
much different?

I felt like impressing Trent and went shopping again. What impresses a
21-year-old? I decided a shrimp pasta dish would do it. I saw him eat a
shrimp off Ali's plate Sunday, so I knew he liked them. I pondered a few
exotic ingredients that would pair well with some spices I had in mind.

At 6:45 I started to prepare some of the courses. My phone buzzed.

"Can I shower at your place" was all the message said.

"Of course," I replied.

He arrived 15 minutes later. I heard him drive up and met him at the door
before he even got to it.

"Hey babe," I said as he entered.

"Hi," he said as he gave me a quick peck on the lips. "I probably reek. Let
me hit the shower."

"That's fine. I'm in the middle of preparing dinner. I sat a fresh towel on
the sink for you."

Trent tossed his sports bag on the bed. I could hear him pulling off his
clothes.

"Smells good," he said from the bedroom.

I had opened a bottle of wine and was enjoying a glass as I continued on
dinner. I heard the shower door close and the water running. As much as I
would have liked to just walk in and watch him shower, I had two courses
still to wrap up.

I set out placemats, cloth napkins and my nicer china. I smiled at how
fancy it looked. I hoped Trent would like it. I put the main dish on simmer
and started plating the salad. Placing the salad plates on the table made
it look like something catered. Bravo! I smiled to myself.

The shower stopped.

I put my wine glass on the table. I put a candle between the two place
settings. I wasn't going to be so clichι' of eating by candlelight, but
it just added a special touch. I dimmed the dining room lighting to half
level.

As Trent was putting his clothes on, he called from the bedroom. "Wow. That
smells really good."  "Thanks! We're having dinner in the dining room
tonight."

He walked out in jeans and a rumpled T-shirt. His feet were still bare. He
walked into the dining room and saw my achievements.

"Ta-da," I said undramatically. "We are starting with a tossed salad of
spinach and mixed greens, walnuts, cherry tomatoes and slivered carrots. I
made a homemade vinaigrette. Our entrιe is a Cajun creamy shrimp pasta
and fresh buttered broccoli with a garlic baguette on the side. For dessert
I have a lemon blueberry cheesecake with whipped cream."

Trent took it all in.  "Wow. You sound like a restaurant menu."

"I wanted us to have a nice night," I said. "I've opened a bottle of wine
and had a glass already. Would you like wine or a beer?"

"Uhhh... I don't know. A beer, I guess."

I reappeared in the dining room with a frosted pilsner with a bottle of his
favorite beer placed next to it. A wisp of vapor rose from the glass as it
was brought into the room having just come from frozen temperatures. He
seemed impressed.

"Seriously," he said with a small smile.

I filled my glass again. As we started on the meal, I noticed Trent picked
at his salad more than eating it. He kept his head down.

"Did I put something in you don't like?" I asked.

"No, it's fine," he responded. "It's good."

He wasn't himself. Something was wrong. I hated to pry but was somewhat
concerned. I continued drinking my wine, but sensed Trent was not in a good
place. Usually I'm pretty good about reading my boyfriends' moods, but we
were still so new. I didn't want to push too hard but wanted to show I
cared at the same time. I drank some wine, but my eyes didn't leave him.

"Are you okay, babe?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice having almost a quiver to it.

I took another bite but watched him. He stopped eating and put his fork
down. Even though he was looking down, I could tell his eyes were welling
with tears.

"Trent! What's wrong?! Tell me."

"I can't."

He started sobbing. Alarmed, I got up and went around the table to hold him
in my arms. He sobbed louder and buried his face into my shirt. I squeezed
him tighter. He nuzzled into my chest but didn't hold me. I lifted him up
and guided us to the couch.

"You can tell me anything," I said. "I'm always here for you. What's going
on."

"I – I – I'm afraid to tell you."

"Don't be silly, hon'. You can tell me anything. I'm here for you."

"Last night, after practice, Lance ..."

He stopped. I waited and stared at Trent hoping for him to confide in me.

"What did he say to you?" I asked.

"It's not so much of what he said. We were the last two in the shower.
After last week, we hadn't really showered side by side. We kind of shared
our secret, and I think we both knew we should cool it. But the other guys
were out of the shower; most had left. He got a hard-on. I didn't want to
look..."

"Kind of hard — that dick," I softly interjected.

"I wasn't even fully hard yet, and he reached for my cock."

At those words, a knife went into my chest. I was instantly jealous. But I
knew all this was new to Trent. We had only been seeing each other a
week. I snapped out of my shock and started listening again.

"Then what?"

"He got me hard. He stuck his head out and told me we were alone. He
kneeled down and sucked on it for a minute. I told him we couldn't do
that. It wasn't safe there. So, we dried off. After getting dressed, he
told me to follow him. He knew of this empty room that was unlocked. We
kept the lights off. A tiny bit of light shone through a window. I saw him
pull out a small bottle of lube. He asked me to fuck him. I told him
no. Then he pulled out his cock and stuck it in my mouth. I sucked him a
while. Then he went down on me. I let him suck me off. I – I – I
don't know why. After I came, I laid there. All I could think about was
you."

Trent started crying uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he sobbed to me.

I held him.

"Stop, stop, stop," I said softly.

"He started jacking off after that with one hand still on my dick. When he
finally came..." Trent sobbed. "...half of it landed on my shirt laying
there. I was pissed and felt like an idiot wearing it with cum stained on
it. I ran back to the gym and tore it off and washed it in the sink. Then I
had to go meet my friends with half my shirt wet. I tried to dry it with
the hand dryer, but it was still damp. Surely my friends had to notice. I
was so embarrassed. I felt like a spotlight was shining on me. I'm such an
idiot."

He started crying again. I just held him.

"This is all so new to you, honey."

"Do you want me to go?" he asked.

I held his face and turned him to look at me.

"Of course not. I'm glad you're here."

"We had JUST said before practice that we were glad we wanted to be a
couple — and then I fucking do THAT! What kind of asshole am I?? I
should have said `no.' I should have ran from him. It just ... felt good
... and ... I'm so sorry, Mike. You deserve someone who isn't an idiot."

He started crying again, every now and then whimpering that he was
sorry. He put his arms around me to hold on to me, practically squeezing
me. We held each other in silence. I could see the light from the dining
room flicker every now and then.

"Okay. Let's forget dinner and go somewhere," I said. "Let me put the food
away, and we'll find somewhere to go."

"God!! Now I've fucking ruined dinner!! You went to all this trouble, and
I've ruined everything. I should just go."

I grabbed his wrist.

"No. I can put this away no problem, and we will just move away from all
this," I said, waving both arms around the candlelight and place
settings. "It will package easily."

I slurped down the last of my wine as I put food away in containers. Ten
minutes later, we were both in the car. I had given Trent a shirt to wear
that wasn't so wrinkled and a little gayer. Trent wasn't saying much. I
reached over to hold his hand. He pulled it away and buried his face in
both his hands.

"I am sooooo sorry. I can't believe you're not mad," he muttered.

I didn't say anything for a few seconds. I was so concerned about him; I
actually didn't know how I really felt about that scenario.

"Trent, I understand. All this is so new to you — you're just figuring
out things. You just accepted being gay last week. You've come a long way,
and you still have a lot of searching to do," I said. "I'll be honest, it
did hurt to hear you tell me..."

"I am sooooo sorry," he said staring at the roof of the car. "I should have
told Lance no. All day I hated the idea of telling you, but I – I – I
knew I could never keep it to myself."

"But I'm glad you did tell me. We never talked about being exclusive or
anything — it's only been a week — but if I'm being honest, I like
thinking of us as a couple. I do. Maybe I'm being selfish wanting you for
myself. But I do. It's only natural for you to want to ... do ... `things'
... with people your age. I'm older; I understand that is kind of weird for
you."

"No. Stop talking like that," he sternly said back to be. "I think you're
wonderful. You're awesome. I've been some stupid geeky kid that can't
figure out his own stupid life, and I'm the one making stupid mistakes.
Don't ever say anything bad about yourself, Mike. You are amazing."

"Wow. That was a lot of complimentary adjectives. You'll give me a big
head," I said with a smile. "But I have made mistakes too. Look at what I
DID with Lance. He was a stranger. I was out of my mind. Guh. That
dick. I'm certainly not one to judge."

"Thank you, Mike," he said, now grabbing my hand.

We pulled up to Daniel's, a gay bar.

Walking in, I looked for a place relatively private in case we had more
personal stuff to discuss. A table in the corner worked well. Music was
pumping, but we could still hear each other fairly easily.

"One beer and one glass of Chardonnay," I told the server.

Trent took in the server. The tight shirt and skimpy shorts conveyed we
were in a gay bar, but there wasn't anything too flamboyant about
Daniel's. That why I always liked it. Not too loud. Not too flamey. There
were a few more couples in the place and a small group of guys in the
opposite corner. The walls were covered with posters and paintings of
shirtless men. No real nudity, but pretty close. Rainbow flags were lit in
neon over the bar. There were also a couple of equal rights symbols around
the room. Nothing that should have been too scary for a newbie. Trent's
demeanor was simply quiet; he didn't seem overwhelmed anymore, but at the
same time, far from the happy individual I had taken a liking to.

The server brought our drinks.

We managed a little small talk for a few minutes: my faculty meeting, the
drama group's set, practice, the song that was playing.

"Of the couples in here, who do you think is the cutest?" I asked. I
motioned to our server. "One more for me."

We looked at the other couples and discussed what we found attractive in
men. We had several common likes: chest hair, moustaches and beards, big
arms. Similar dislikes: tattoos and piercings, man buns. We differed on
outlandish hair styles. He could tolerate them easier than me. He was
young.

The server brought me my new glass of wine.

"Look at the group in the corner. Who do you think is the cutest?"

"Why do you care who I think is cute?" he asked. "I'm with the best-looking
man in the bar."

I gave him a smirky look. We leaned over the table and kissed. That was
better. Trent was emerging from his sorrowful funk.

"Mikey!! I haven't seen you in forever," a voice said from behind
me. "How've you been, sweetie?"

Trent did not know this man but noticed he rubbed his fingers up my arm
like playing a piano while talking to me. Ricky was half Latino but 100
percent gay. That was never ever in question.

"Trent, this is Ricky."

"And this is Detrell," Ricky said introducing his companion.

Detrell was African American with braided hair and killer biceps. They made
both a mismatch and adorable couple at the same time. Ricky looked Trent up
and down.

"So. How'd you two meet?" he asked.

"We've known each other a few years. We just recently found we have a lot
in common and are enjoying being together," I answered, avoiding mentioning
he was a former student.

"Well, all right, gents. We'll leave you to it," Ricky said and then
strolled to a table for the two of them. "Glad to see you out, sweetie."

"Nice arms," we both whispered at the same time, acknowledging the hotness
of Detrell.

I swallowed a big gulp of wine.

"Is there a story there?" Trent asked.

"Noooo..." I trailed off. "Not really. He was a friend of Ethan's and mine,
more Ethan than me. I guess Ethan inherited Ricky in the split because I
haven't seen him since."

I took another sip. Trent was halfway through his beer when I noticed him
fixated on one of the posters.

"See that poster there," he said, pointing to it with his eyes. "It is
fairly close to a picture I was looking at on my computer in 10th grade.
Just like that one, the guy was tan and shirtless. You didn't see his dick,
but you could see the top of his crotch hair. I looked at it often. I got
hard to it. One evening my dad walked into the room while I was staring at
it. Before I could close the screen, he noticed it and just stared at
me. His eyes just drilled right through mine. He told me, `Don't even go
down that path, Trent. We won't have that in this house.'"

"Trent!" I said softly, but earnestly and intently. "That's terrible. God,
that must have been difficult. I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"Yeah." He sat quiet. "We hardly talked for two weeks. Things were never
the same. He'd tell me about pretty girls I should go out with. I was
unhappy. Really unhappy. Tenth grade, y'know? I didn't know how to tell if
you were gay or not. Was it a phase? How do you find out? I obviously was
too shy to talk to anybody at all, even my closest friends. I was
miserable."

"Is that the hard time you said I helped you through?"

"Uh huh. I was so depressed. Your class was the highlight of my day. I
couldn't wait to get there."

"Why?"

"You were so nice to me. And to be honest, I probably sensed we were
alike. I didn't even think about, y'know, the word "gay." I just felt
... different. In retrospect, I probably had a crush on you. But you
treated me with so much respect, and you praised my work. I felt safe
there. I felt calm. It was the only place I felt calm for a while."

"Gosh, I had no idea. I'm glad I was a help even if I didn't know I was.
You were such a good student, and I still remember some of the things you
wrote for my class. You are a very talented writer, and you learned the
English material really easily," I said, hoping the compliment would
continue to lift his spirits.

"Plus, you had a chest that destroyed," Trent smiled.

"Ha!" I laughed a little too loudly. "Like you knew what my chest looked
like."

"On some of the days you didn't wear a tie, you would unbutton an extra
button. I could see your chest hair. I just wanted to touch it."

Trent thought for a moment and then suddenly looked up at me.

"Did you know I was gay back then?" he suddenly asked.

"No. Kids are just starting to figure things out. I allow them that.
Speculating on my part serves no purpose. I try to leave that out of
everything. Every individual deserves a personal life. I mean, I wouldn't
have thought you couldn't be gay, but I wasn't pegging you as gay back
then. It's just not anything I think about."

"I'm sure I never thanked you enough back then. You were such a positive
influence for me. I needed you then." Trent smiled at me. "I think I need
you now too."

I grabbed his hands. We just looked at each other. We seemed to have found
a good place.

"I have an idea. Let's go dancing," I said.

"Now??" he responded in surprise. "I... I don't know if I'm any good. I
haven't danced much."

"Just be yourself. We'll just go for a little while. I've got a buzz going;
let's have fun."

I slammed the rest of my wine and signaled for the check.

"Let me go to the bathroom first," he said.

Trent headed to the men's room. I took care of the bill. Apparently, Ricky
could tell we were heading out. Making his way to the bathroom, he stopped
by to make a couple more quips.

"Good to see you're dating again, Mikey. But robbing the cradle much? Is he
old enough to shave?"

I had enough alcohol in me to not hold anything back.

"Oh yeah. Not only does he shave, but he can also do lots of things." I
leaned toward Ricky's ear, whispering, "He is giving me the wildest sex of
my life. And I'm loving it."

Ricky looked momentarily shocked, maybe out of some slight loyalty to
Ethan.

"Well. Good for you then."

He passed Trent on his way to the bathroom. I heard him say some pleasantry
with questionable sincerity. I rolled my eyes. We headed toward the door. I
handed the keys to Trent.

"I have enough of a buzz, I'll let you drive."

I gave directions. A few minutes later, we pulled into Indigo. We entered
the club. It was relatively dark, awash in blue uplighting. Trent looked
around scoping out the place. He didn't find it too threatening. A dance
floor was pretty much empty except for two guys. The bar was long with
glasses hanging above the counter. Video monitors flashed footage of
scantily-clad men dancing. Tall cocktail tables were positioned along one
wall with a cushion for seating along the wall and tall bar stools around
the tables. Nothing was too scary.

"It's early for a club, not to mention a Tuesday night. We won't find
crowds tonight," I told him.

I walked to the bar. I was tired of wine and ordered a White Russian. That
was my old club standby. I got Trent a beer. The bartender gave me a wink
as I paid him.

"What is that?" he asked when I returned.

"Never had a White Russian? Yummy! Try."

He tasted it.

"Mmm. That's good."

"They go down like chocolate milk."

I pointed to one of the scattered round cocktail tables. Trent sat on the
long bench cushion. I sort of danced in place to the music. Trent loved the
techno song playing. I wasn't familiar with it, but he was. He counted
maybe 25 people in the place.

"It's not very crowded," he said.

"Tuesdays never are."

He watched the people dancing. He saw many guys around the place hanging on
each other. Or kissing. Or hugging.

"I've been terrified to come to a gay club," he said. "It is nice to see a
place where you don't have to hide anything."

With that, I gave him a huge kiss. He looked around. No one paid the
slightest attention to us. He kissed me back. I was really buzzed so I got
a little passionate in our kissing. We held each other in a standing
embrace. I started to sway a little with him.

"Want to dance?" I asked.

"Not yet."

He continued to watch the dancing. I sat and he stood in front of me. Both
of us watched the dance floor. I held my arms around his stomach. I reached
for my drink and took a gulp.

"I'm glad you told me about that situation with your dad. I'm sad you had
to deal with that. How are you and he now?"

"The same," he said, not taking his eyes off the dance floor. "We ignored
it for a while. I don't talk to him much, mostly Mom," he said over the
music. "Until he sees me come home with a girlfriend, I think we will
probably be distant."

"Damn."

Trent moved a little more to the music in my arms. I stood, leaning on the
seat. He leaned back into me. I unbuttoned one of the middle buttons of his
shirt. I slid my hand inside and rubbed his chest. He took a quick glance
and realized no one cared what we were doing. He held my other arm pressing
it to him. My hand continued to slowly roam inside his shirt.

"Why are you making my dick hard when I can't take it out?" he said loud
enough for me to hear over the music.

I freed my other hand and reached down groping the bulge through his
jeans. I could feel the outline of every inch in my grip.

"God, I wish I could suck that right now," I said directly into his ear.

"You and me both."

I had finished my drink. Trent had over half his beer left, so I took a
drink of it. Then another. The thought of oral sex with him was putting me
in a trance.

I went to the bar and got another White Russian and the closed our tab. I
flipped him an extra five, winking back.

When I came back, Trent found his way into my embrace again. He backed up
to me. My crotch was at his ass. Even with both of us clothed, he had to
feel the steel pipe in my jeans. We continued to watch, and I slid my hand
back inside his shirt. His chest felt intoxicating. He moved his hips a
little; I wasn't sure if it was dancing or grinding his butt into my cock.

My free hand grabbed my drink. I slammed half of it, and then unbuttoned
one more on his shirt. I slid my fingers lower. I slipped below the
waistband of his boxers and my fingers ran through his bush. My pointer
finger and index finger traced along the sides of the top of his
erection. I moaned into his ear; he moaned back. I wanted sex badly at that
point. When we finished our drinks, it was time to go home and make love. I
started to sweat a little.

A few more people had made it to the dance floor. The song changed. Trent
whirled in my arms.

"Okay, I'll dance to this!"

We both knew the song. He took a gulp of beer. I followed with another gulp
of my second White Russian. I grabbed his hands and led him to the dance
floor. We moved to the beat. It didn't take long for Trent to be relaxed
and let the music take him. I was totally buzzed and didn't have any
inhibitions. More people came to the floor. Trent smiled being part of the
crowd. We stayed out for the next song. All the drama earlier in the
evening seemed to have dissipated. He was having fun. I kissed him hard.
Even in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by people, he seemed okay
kissing in public. We danced to a third song and ...

...

—

The alarm went off. I fumbled to turn it off. The sun was shining in
through my bedroom window. It was 6:15.