Date: Sat, 17 Sep 2016 11:49:38 +0000 (UTC)
From: hankbrookscc@comcast.net
Subject: Destiny   (Short story)

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				 Destiny


 Sigmund Freud believed that dreams were the mirrors of our souls.  They
could not lie, and would always reveal the truth to the dreamer. If I were
being treated by Dr. Freud, I would have been a terrible patient.  I dream
a lot; I know I do.  However, two seconds after I wake up, I cannot recall
the dream if my life depended on it.  But there was one recurring dream
that I had often.  It was the exception to the rule.  When I woke from this
dream, I remembered every last detail as if it had really happened to me,
just moments ago.

 The first time I had this dream, I was pre-pubescent.  It was the very
day, that I finally admitted to myself that I was gay.  I was madly in love
with Timothy Smith, the handsomest boy in my fifth grade class.  The desire
to suck his cock was consuming me with unrequited love.  Of course, I kept
my feelings deep within me.  I don't think Dr. Freud himself, could have
pried my secret from me.

 The dream, which I kept reliving all the next day, was simple enough.  It
started with me walking into a bar.  I was only eleven years old at the
time.  I had never been inside a bar in my life, but I knew, without a
doubt, that it was a bar.  My eye caught the eye of another boy at the bar.
He was my age and my height, but he didn't look anything like me.  I am
dark complexioned with deep brown eyes.  He was a blond, and he had
piercing blue eyes.  We stared at each other, and then we approached.  We
wrapped our arms around each other, and began to kiss passionately.

 When I woke up, I was able to recall the dream vividly.  I could describe
every line on his face.  Timothy Smith no longer interested me.  I became
obsessed with the boy in my dream.  Foolishly, I looked for him wherever I
went.  I tried to tell myself that it had only been a dream, but I went on
seeking him.

 Over time, the dream changed subtly.  The first time I had the dream it
was late summer.  The boy and I were wearing tank top shirts and shorts.
The next time I had the dream it was Christmas Eve.  This time, when I
walked into the bar, it was gaily decorated for Christmas, and the boy and
I were wearing flannel shirts.  We both seemed to have aged slightly.  In
all other respects the dream was the same.  Well, I'm not really sure, but
the kiss might have been more passionate.

 I had the dream three times during the following year.  I was growing
rapidly, as was the boy in my dreams.  The only change in the dream,
besides our growth, is that our clothing changed with the season, and the
bar was appropriately decorated.  For instance, when I had the third dream
that year, it was on Halloween, and the bar was decorated accordingly.

 I continued to have the dream all through elementary school, high school
and college.  Each year the dream occurred more frequently.  By the time I
graduated college, and began to work in a brokerage firm, I was having the
dream at least once a week.

 In college, and in the years that followed my graduation, I was getting
plenty of gay sex.  If I didn't mention it before, I am very good looking.
More importantly, stories began to spread about my attributes.  I am uncut,
and when erect, I measure nine, hefty inches.  After my twenty-first
birthday, I began to frequent gay bars.  Wherever I was, whatever bar I was
in, I continued to seek out the man in my dreams; actually, the boy in my
dreams.  He had matured right along with me, but he had grown much more
handsome.  I could picture him vividly in my mind, and it disturbed me that
I didn't know his name.

 My firm had a policy that made sense to me.  When a prospective new client
came through the door, without specifically requesting any of the existing
staff, the prospective client's finances were investigated.  If he was very
well heeled, he would be assigned to an experienced account manager;
otherwise, he would be assigned to the newest staff member.  The philosophy
of the firm was that the client, and his account manager, would grow
together.

  One Friday afternoon, my thoughts were racing toward meeting up with
friends at some bar that evening for TGIF booze, and hopefully sex. A knock
on my office door interrupted my meditation.  I jumped up and yelled, "Come
in."

 It was my boss, Joel Scarcella.  He was all smiles and good cheer.  I had
to be suspicious, and very cautious.  He was usually somber and moody, and
did not treat his staff very well.  There was a handsome young man with
him.  He was no older than I.  I almost fainted.  Joel brought in the man
of my dreams; my companion for more than a quarter of a century.  I grabbed
my desk to keep from falling.  It was all I could do to maintain my
composure.

 "Charlie, let me introduce you to a brand new client," Joel said.  He
turned toward me and said, "This is Cameron Frankel; he's your new client."
Then he turned toward Cameron, "and this is Charles Braman, Cam, your
account manager.  I'll leave you two to get acquainted."  He was out of
there quickly, and as he left, I could see his stern countenance returning
to his face.

 Somehow I regained my senses.  I shook Cam's hand and bade him sit on the
chair facing my desk.  My computer was in the middle of my desk, and I had
to push it over to one side to have a full view of him.

 I cleared my throat, and asked Cam to tell me all about himself and his
goals.  He talked freely to me.  He was an architect, who had landed a
fantastic job, with one of the most prestigious firms in New York, Prentiss
and Prentiss.  His salary exceeded his needs, so he was looking forward to
me helping him decide how much to invest with me each month, after meeting
all his expenses.

 "Don't you have entertainment expenses in your budget," I asked with a
laugh.  I laughed because I didn't want him to think I was being facetious.

 "Tell you what," he said.  "I've never lived on a budget in my life.
Maybe you can help me develop one."

 "That'll be a pleasure," I said, hoping this would give us a lot of time
together.  Maybe we hadn't met in a bar, but this was my guy, my dream man.

 We spoke at great length.  I wanted to jump up, envelop him in my arms,
and smother him with kisses.  Of course, I did no such thing.  When I was
satisfied that I had a good grasp of Cam's goals and aspirations, I asked
the final question, "How much money will you be depositing with us to start
the ball rolling?"

 "I was thinking of about five thousand dollars."

 I groaned silently.  The average opening deposit in my firm was about
fifty thousand dollars.  Cam could read my face, and he said quickly, "I
know it's not much, but I have great potential, and I'm looking forward to
preparing a budget, so you can tell me how much to invest every month."

 I smiled.  "That'll be just fine," I said.  "When do you think we can
meet, and get things going?"

 "Could you meet me a couple of days next week after business hours?  I'll
take you out to dinner, while we discuss how to begin."

 "No, I'll take you out to dinner.  You're a client, and I can get
reimbursed," I said.  We both laughed.

 "Do you know Julius, in The Village?" Cam asked.  "We can have a drink
there, and decide where to go for dinner.  Say, six o'clock on Monday
evening."

 Now I did have to steady myself, and keep myself from grabbing him.
Julius was a gay bar.  Suddenly a scene passed before me.  I am entering
the bar.  Cam spots me.  He runs over to me.  We embrace and kiss.

 I guess I was in some sort of coma, but Cam got me out of it.  He placed a
hand on my shoulder, and asked if I was all right.  I wanted to say that I
had a vision of Monday evening, but of course, I just shook my shoulders
and mumbled that I was okay.

 In the end, I just couldn't keep my mouth shut.  "Julius is a gay bar." I
said.  "I go there often.  Are you gay Cam?  I am."

 "Of course I am.  How else would I know about Julius?  I suspected you
were gay also.  That's why I chose a gay bar to meet.  I needed to make
sure about you."

 I didn't want to wait until Monday night to see Cam again.  I glanced at
my watch.  I hadn't realized how much time had passed while we were
chatting.  It was about 5:30.  I got bold.  "It's very late, Cam," I said.
"If you are free, how about we do some TGIF celebrating tonight?  I was
going to meet some friends after work for a drink.  I'd like it if you
joined us.  I'd like it a lot."

 Without a moment's hesitation, he said, "Of course I will.  If you hadn't
asked me, I would have asked you.  I'm very attracted to you."

 "As I am to you."  When I said those words, Cam embraced me.  We kissed,
and then my alarm clock woke me up.

 Apparently, I had another vision of my dream man, totally different from
what went before.  In all these years my dream had remained constant, and
now it was totally different.  I took that as an omen, and I decided to go
to Julius on this Friday evening for my TGIF drink or two.

 I also grew curious enough to get me into a lot of trouble.  That morning,
instead of taking a coffee break, I shut myself in my office, got Prentiss
and Prentiss's telephone number from the phone book, and called there.  A
pleasant sounding receptionist greeted me, and asked how she could help me.

 "I'd like to speak to Cameron Frankel, please," I mumbled.

 "I'm sorry sir," she said.  "Mr. Frankel is in the field right now, but I
expect him back about 3:30.  Would you care to leave a message?"

 "No," I rasped.  "I'll call back."

 This time I did lose my sense of reality, and Cam wasn't there to pull me
back.

 That Friday evening found me entering Julius, hoping desperately to see my
obsession at the bar, and hoping even more, that he would sweep me off my
feet.  Before walking through the door, I pinched myself to make sure I was
awake, and that this was no dream.

 He was there all right, at the bar, just as I had always pictured him.  I
froze in my tracks, whoever he was, whatever his name, was smooching with
another guy, a real hunk.  I ran out of the bar, and stopped short a few
feet from the door.  It was there that I had a revelation.  It occurred to
me that my dream man was just that, a dream.  I was never going to find him
in real life, so I had to give up my obsession.  I felt like a big weight
had been lifted off me, and I decided to go back in the bar.  Maybe this
night would be the one where I would meet Mr. Right, even if he doesn't
look like the guy in my dream.

 When I returned, he was still at the bar, but he was alone.  I guess I
hadn't completely freed myself of my obsession.  I walked over to where he
was sitting.  He was sipping a drink and talking to the bartender.  I
interrupted and ordered a scotch and branch water.

 Of course, my obsession looked up to see who had ordered the drink.  He
smiled at me.  I grew bold.  "Excuse me," I said, or rather screamed over
the roar of the crowd.  "You look very familiar to me.  Is your name Cam
Frankel?"

 "Sorry," he said. "You have the wrong guy."

 "No, I'm sorry.  I could have sworn I've met you somewhere before this."

 He stuck out his hand and said, "I'm George Mitchell, and you are?"

 "Charlie Braman," I mumbled.  At that moment I was too emotional to say
more.  I stuck out my hand, and spoke directly into his ear, above the roar
of the crowd.  "Charlie Braman," I repeated, literally screaming.

 The bartender gave me my drink, and I paid him.  I thought I was dreaming
again, when George said, "I can't think straight in here," he said.  "I
know a nice quiet place, just a street away.  How'd you like to blow this
joint and go there with me?"

 I put my untouched drink on the bar and said, "Let's go."  George grinned
at me, and all I could think about was maybe dreams do come true.

 The bar was named The Watering Hole, and it was literally around the
corner.  When we got there, I knew why it was so quiet.  It was a gay bar
alright, but the patrons were mature men, from middle to old age.  They
were in groups, obviously enjoying real conversations.

 "I know what you're thinking," George said.  "You're thinking that this is
the cemetery club.  Well, I like it here.  I enjoy the company of these
older guys.  I have meaningful conversations with them, and I won't have to
visit an audiologist for a long time to come."

 "Don't sweat it," I lied to him.  "I like it here also."

 "There are a couple of seats at the end of the bar," George said.  "Let's
go claim them, and I'll buy you that drink you never had."

 We had just taken a sip or two, when a very attractive man in his early
sixties approached us.  "George," he said, "how nice to see you.  I don't
think you've been here in weeks."

 George and the man embraced, and George introduced me to Harry.  He didn't
offer a surname.  "You're absolutely correct Harry," George said.  "I've
been seeing this guy, who is way too young for me.  He didn't ever want to
come here.  We had nothing in common, and I literally kissed him off
tonight."

 I shuddered at the thought that I nearly ran away.

 "Now Charlie here," he said.  "I think we are more compatible."  I was
speechless, I could only smile and grab his hand.  He not only smiled back,
he kissed the back of my hand.  I was having trouble keeping myself
together.  I wondered if I should tell him about my dream.  Too soon, I
thought.

 "In that case," Harry said, "I'll leave you two alone."

 I was so encouraged by George's attitude toward me, that after Harry left,
I decided to get better acquainted.  I started by telling him all about
myself, what I did for a living, the things I liked, the things I disliked,
and so on.  I realized that I was prattling, so I told George to tell me
all about himself.

 I learned that he taught social studies at The High School for the
Performing Arts.  "I love it there," he said.  "The kids are all so
talented.  They are a real inspiration."

 "Would you like to be a father some day?" I asked boldly.

 "Sure I would," he answered.  "I'd make a great father.  You would too."

 "How can you say that?" I asked.  "You hardly know me."

 "I know that I have never felt so comfortable talking to anyone else.  I
know we have a lot in common.  I know that I feel like I've known you all
my life, and I know that I want to go to bed with you.  I want to make love
with you in that bed, not have sex."

 I burst into tears.  "Why are you crying?" he asked.

 "Because I want the same things, and I want them with you.  I have dreamt
about you all my life, and my dreams are coming true."

 "Don't cry again," George said, but I've waited for you all my life also.
You're making my dreams come true also."

 "Does that mean that we are going to make love tonight?" I asked looking
innocently at George.

 "If we don't," he said seriously, "I'll put out a contract on your life."
George leaned into me, and kissed me tenderly.  There wasn't a lot of
passion in it, but it was the sweetest kiss anyone had ever given me.

 I guess we both knew that tonight was only a beginning.  We didn't rush to
occupy one of our beds.  We chatted for a couple of hours getting better
and better acquainted.  George introduced me to some of the other patrons
at the bar who he knew, and we chatted with them also.

 As we were getting ready to leave, George said to me, "It's so strange.  I
feel like I have known you all my life."

 "You have.  You just didn't know it."

 I lived walking distance from the bar, so we decided to go there to make
love with each other.  George took my hand and held it all the way home.  I
wanted to cry, but I was out of tears.  I decided that after we made love,
I would tell him about my recurring dream, and that I knew what he looked
like, before we ever met.

 As soon as we entered my small apartment we literally ripped each other's
clothing off our bodies.  We stood still taking in the sight of someone we
truly loved.  As we stared we began to laugh.  George was every bit as well
hung as I, but he was circumcised, and I wasn't.  In truth, I loved
nibbling on foreskin, but I wasn't about to spoil the best thing that ever
happened to me, by so minor a point.

 We both fell to our knees with the obvious intention of sucking cock, but
it wasn't going to happen this way.  I led George to my bed and we played a
passionate game of sixty-nine.  We both came much too quickly, but we
didn't care.  It was Friday night after all, and we had all weekend to make
love.

 Afterward, we lay facing each other, our bodies pushing together as we
kissed, sharing our cum, and fondling each other until we were hard again.
I got out the lube and condoms, and we fucked each other missionary style.
Neither of us came as quickly as before, and that was how we both liked it.

 "Let's get tested real soon," I said, "and ditch the rubbers."  After I
said that, I could have kicked myself.  We had just met a few hours ago,
and I was talking as if we were committed to each other.

 God bless George.  He saved the day by saying, "That's a wonderful idea.
I never want to use those things with us ever again.  You're the only
partner I need."

 As we basked in the afterglow, I told George about the dream I had been
having for a quarter of a century.  I told him that my fantasy lover looked
just like him.  He didn't laugh at me as I expected, but he said that he
didn't have dreams about me, but whenever he imagined what his soulmate
would look like, he looked just like me.

 Two months later, we both moved out of our efficiency apartments, and
rented a two bedroom apartment in a good neighborhood.  We could afford it
on our joint salaries.  My life was ideal, and I never had my dream again.

 Only one thing still bothered me.  I had dreamt about someone named
Cameron Frankel, who looked just like George, and who really existed in the
waking world.  The very thought of it gnawed at me until I decided to
investigate Mr. Frankel.  Mostly I was interested in what he looked like.

 The first chance I got, I went to Prentiss and Prentiss's website.  It
contained pictures of the professional staff with a short biography of
each.  Mr. Frankel was sixty years old.  He was rather portly and bald, but
he had a nice smile.  He had recently been the recipient of a very
prestigious architectural award.

 I concluded that I must have read about the award, just before my very
vivid dream, and Cam's name must have stayed in my memory.  His biography
did not mention a wife or children like the others did.  I looked at his
smiling face in the picture, and I concluded that Cam was gay.  I felt a
kinship with him, and I wondered if George and I should seek him out and
befriend him.  If he was gay, he would love accompanying us to The Watering
Hole.  He might even meet someone there.  If he is truly alone, it would
make me very happy to find someone for him to love.