Date: Mon, 8 Nov 2010 04:31:13 -0800 (PST)
From: Claudiu I. <ghostofoldtrafford@yahoo.com>
Subject: Just Sex chapter 2

JUST SEX...

This is more or less a love story. It may or may not include explicit
sexual content. One thing's for certain -- it's not masturbation material.

Still, if gay stuff offends you...why the hell are you here?

This story contains personal aspects of my life but is by no means an
autobiography.

Contact me at ghostofoldtrafford@yahoo.com


CHAPTER II -- FRIENDS

As soon as I shut the door behind me, I got the urge to scream out "Honey,
I'm home!" Okay, okay, the "honey" part probably only serves to reinforce
your idea about this whole thing being an incestuous relationship, but I
swear...nothing like that. I was simply bitter, what with no one being
there to meet the prodigal son upon his return and everything.

I dropped the two large suitcases I was carrying by the door, but kept the
backpack. I slowly ventured inside the house I'd called home for so
long. The weather outside was getting increasingly worse and lightning was
starting to streak across the sky. Throw in the house's eerie quiet and
perhaps a creaking step or two in the staircase and I was convinced an axe
murderer would be awaiting in my old room.

There was no one on the ground floor. The absence of food cooking was
particularly noticeable. I mean, sure, I wasn't expecting a feast, but at
least give me an omelet. So, up the stairs I went, checking rooms one by
one as I got to the second floor. No one was home. Not my mom, not my
stepdad, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. So, I did the only
sensible thing I could think of. I went to my room and went to sleep in my
old bed.

I woke up to the sound of movement in my room. I cracked open one eye,
enough to see that the room was bathed in sunlight. I shot up in bed.
"Morning, sleepyhead." My mom said. Blearily, I stared at her. She was
smiling broadly as she was folding my clothes and packing them into
drawers. Ooookay...

"Umm...Hi?"

She chuckled. "My, you are still a messy boy. Not only did you not pack
your clothes the way I taught you, you left your bags in front of the door
last night. Your...Nick almost broke his neck when he came in. I swear,
you'll never get organized." She smiled, so it came across as a friendly
jab, rather than an insult. "Not until you find a nice, tidy girl to put
you in your place, that is..." Ugh. God, give me strength.

I ran a hand through my unruly hair and then rubbed my eyes with the bridge
of my hands. "Mom, we've talked about that..."

Now her smile threatened to split open her face. I always felt her fake
smiles were far too forced and obvious. "Yes, dear, and your cousin
said..."

"Well, John's an idiot! Mom, you're sick and that's the only reason I came
back home. I don't want us to get back into this. Especially not on my
first day. Don't worry, I won't be bringing home a guy to meet the parents,
especially in this conservative heaven town, but I'm gay and that's that. I
won't embarrass you publicly, but at least show me the courtesy of not
trying to change something I can't friggin' change, okay?"

She stared at me for half a minute, then nodded stiffly and made for the
door. She paused just before exiting. "Some of your old friends have been
asking about you. A couple of `em are married, you know..." and she was
gone.

Yes, I fucking know they're married. I got their invitations. But I had no
intention of going alone, in order to assaulted by single young women
desperate to be the next ones in line to throw the bouquet. And I wasn't
particularly fond of coming out in my home town, so going with my boyfriend
was out of the question. So, I politely declined the invitation. Busy class
schedule and all that. Not like they'd know the difference.

Let me tell you something about my friends. They settle. They settle for
the high-school sweetheart, they settle for low-paying jobs. They settle
for staying in their hometown, like their parents and grandparents before
them. I used to think I was so much better than them. Now, here I am, back
in the pack. What the hell does that make me? My phone chirping brought me
out of my reverie. Text message. "Beer with the guys 2tine, pal." Double
ugh. New message. "By the way, this is Costas. :p". Costas. Nice Greek
boy. One of the married ones. He was 20 when he got hitched. I wondered
about any rug rats running around. Well, it was gonna happen sooner or
later. The gang was getting back together again. And that usually spelled
trouble.

I decided to spend the day looking for a job. Sent out a few resumes,
called in to a few places, got a couple "We'll get back to you" and I was
cursing the bad economy by the time 5 o'clock came around. New message. "8
sharp, Pappy's". Pappy's was a place in town we used to hang around in
after school. Pappy was Costas' grandfather. He used to herd us into the
backroom, kept for private parties, where he'd give us booze. "A real man
needs to handle his drink and know when to enjoy himself. You old enough to
have hair on your balls, you old enough to drink, in my book. Besides, this
will put hair on your chest, not just your balls" he'd say. I still curse
him each time I have to shave my chest.

I had three hours to kill, so I decided on a trip down memory lane. I took
out a dusty photo album and started skimming through it. Costas was in most
pictures, more often than not hanging by my arm or neck. We were
inseparable growing up. I don't know if it was something in the water or
whatever, but aside from 3 girls, the neighborhood kids as was growing up
were all boys.  That made for a lot of fun, as there was never a shortage
of players for whatever sport we were trying to screw up that week, and it
meant no shortage of trouble for the parents trying to maintain sanity. We
were around two dozen guys around the same age, and we were all fairly
close. But no matter how close you are with the group as a whole, there's
always that special person, to whom you're attracted. Not in a sexual kind
of way, mind you -- though Costas was plenty hot -- but from a personality
point of view. It was magnetic. Costas was THE friend for me. We were two
pees in a pod. I'd always follow him into trouble, and he'd always have my
back. In high-school, we started drifting apart. There was no conscious
decision about it, at least not on my part. There was no fear regarding any
lingering feelings, I wasn't trying to push him away because of my whole
gayness thing. It just...happened. I guess that's what made my decision to
leave it all behind so easy.

When we were in grade school, we made plans together. High-school, college,
marrying two pretty blondes and living in adjacent houses, our kids growing
up together like we did. But, even though I'm no scholar myself, Costas
was...well, not really academically inclined. It was obvious by the time we
got to 8th grade that college would not be his thing. But he did love to
work with his hands. And he was good at it. So it came as no surprise when
he started working part-time for a construction company. We saw less and
less of each other. Our classes were completely different and, as busy as
he was with work, we only got together with the entire group at Pappy's.
The absence from each other's lives did not make the heart grow fonder. We
spent little time together one-on-one, so, in the end, when I got accepted
into college and he stayed behind to work full-time, we simply parted with
a handshake and a manly one-armed hug. Would we go back to being close
friends? Casual acquaintances? Drinking buddies?

I kept looking at the photos. Paul, the ladies' man, the one I thought
would contract half a dozen STDs by the time he turned 16, considering the
pace he went through girls, each time without protection, as I was
(un)fortunate enough to once witness. Andy N., Paul's shy
sidekick. Reserved he might be, but he knew how to keep Paul in check when
he would have otherwise went down in a blaze of glory. Andy V., the
long-haired pacifist of the group, who'd get shouted at for always running
with his eyes down, thus not seeing the endzone when we played
football. The third Andy, Andy B., or Big A, as he was the oldest of the
group, four years my senior. A natural athlete, he excelled at pretty much
everything he did. He fell in love and followed a girl to England. She
ended up breaking his heart, but he fell in love with London anyway, so he
stayed.

Then there was Stephen, Big A's little brother, the youngest of the
group. We tolerated him because he was Big A's little bro. He was cool, in
a skinny, short, nerdy kind of way. He was starting high-school as I was
leaving for college, and we've barely spoken since, IM-ing once or
twice. There was Manny, the one fat kid we'd always poke fun at as we were
growing up, but whom we'd protect from others, because he was OUR fat
kid. His older sister, Alina, was one of those rare girls. She was cool,
but they didn't have a particularly wonderful home life, so she was quick
to get the hell out. Last I heard of her, she was in Vegas.

There was the lanky, dark-haired Russian who started shaving when he was
13. To be honest, I don't really know his name. I think it stars with an S,
but we just called him "Russian". That or comrade. He had a good sense of
humor, though, so he didn't mind. There was Alex, Stevie and Colin, the
potheads. The guys would pretty much smoke anything, and their mental
faculties did seem to suffer from it. Stan was the gambler. The guy was
addicted. I'll never forget the beating he got from his dad when he was
about 17, when his parents found out he had sold his laptop, his camera,
DVD player and traded in his brand new cell phone for a cheap model, in
order to cover his debts. He, too, ran off to Vegas. I expect his body will
be discovered in the desert at one point.

Chris, the car wiz, was Alex's big brother. Just a year older, but what a
difference that made. Chris was sensible, level-headed, bright and
God-fearing. He had cool blue eyes you could get lost in and when he
talked, you couldn't help but hang on to his every word. He was also my
crush throughout high-school. Naturally, he became a mechanic and got
married when he turned 21.

Reed, aka Mittens, the guy who wouldn't leave his house without his lucky
mittens, regardless of the season, was fresh out of the Academy by now. Law
was the family business for him. Two lawyer uncles, another prosecutor, his
dad and granddad cops, I was always convinced he'd make a great police
officer himself. He always protected the kids getting picked on, even when
it meant standing up to one of his friends in order to do so. That's why
his friendship with Jimmy never made sense to me. Jimmy was the bad
boy. Started smoking when he was 12, was an alcoholic by 16. Lost his
virginity to a hooker when he was 13, enjoyed beating up smaller kids,
shoplifting was his hobby. Reed's best friend, and occasional worst
enemy. They were a dysfunctional pair, but I once stumbled upon Reed
holding Jimmy as he was crying his eyes out. I never knew the reason, but I
imagine being Jimmy wasn't easy. Reed understood better than anyone and I
think he was the one thing that kept Jimmy sane and out of prison.

Randy was the football star. We always knew he'd make it big. He had just
received word that he had gotten a football scholarship when a big rig
rammed his sedan at an intersection. He, Jenna, his girlfriend and Marc,
the other football stud, died on impact. Carl, who loved to climb trees and
throw water balloons down on passers-by, who loved to sit perched on his
window sill and draw the world outside fought for his life for a month and
eventually won, but he still paid a price. Carl, who loved to swim, would
never walk again.

Darren, the librarian's kid, predictably loved books. And he loved foreign
languages, something he presumably inherited from his father, who taught
high-school French. His family moved to France as soon as he finished
high-school. It had been his parents' dream for years, and an inheritance
from a rich aunt meant they could finally do it. And what better way for
Darren to learn about European culture than to actually be in Europe?

Scott liked guns. I always thought he'd either end up a sniper or a serial
killer. Possibly both. He joined the Army on his 18th birthday. Gretchen
was a tomboy. She wanted to study agriculture at college and have her own
farm one day. She fell in love with the wrong sort of guy, in her mom's
opinion. They eloped and I got an e-mail from her a year later. She was
living in Italy and had a boy.

David was the music geek. He even had a radio program in high-school. He
became a DJ for a local station and he was the voice that most people woke
up to in town...

7:45. Time to get a move on. Time to see my friends again. I headed
downstairs, checked my hair in the hallway mirror as I walked by, peered
into the kitchen to realize that the only thing there was a note
proclaiming Nick took mom to the doctor, and then walked out the door. I
promptly stopped in my tracks. How in the hell was I supposed to get to
Pappy's? I groaned as I ran my hand over my face, getting ready to fish out
my phone and try to locate one of my friends, hoping for a ride. The sound
of a car horn made me look up. I could have recognized that rusty grey
Toyota pick-up anywhere and sure enough, there was Costas behind the wheel,
big grin on his face, left hand hanging out the open window. His hair was
longer than I remembered. He never liked his curls growing up, so he always
cut it very short. But otherwise...he was the same guy. He parked right in
front of me and let me stare at him for a good minute before he broke into
my thoughts.

"Yo, asswipe, gas ain't cheap. You getting in or what?"

"As if. You probably drained the gas from your dad's car, the way you've
been doing since you were 16."

He rolled a shoulder in a shrug. "Well, I keep forgetting to fill `er
up. It's not my fault dad doesn't keep a canister full, and I have to get
it directly from the source."

"So, you still living with Ma and Pa? Man, I always figured you'd assert
your independence by now. "

He arched an eyebrow. "That so, huh?" He pointed to the house behind
me. "Unless your mom finally won the lottery and has moved to Hawaii, I do
believe you're back with the folks..."

"I had four years of independence. But...point taken"

"Hey, when you're still a young family man, trying to build a business, you
take what you can. Living at home cuts down on expenses."

"Business?"

"Yup. Started my own contracting business. Small thing. You know...I do
only what two men can handle. Me and the Russian."

"The Russian?"

"Yeah, we're partners. Get in. I'll tell you all about it on the way to
Pappy's." I moved around the other side of the car and got in. He put the
truck in drive but paused for a second, then glanced at me. "You have no
idea how glad I am to see you, man. I've missed you. A lot." I just nodded
like a dumbass. We set out and he informed me about his business. Small
remodeling, refurbishing, electrical and plumbing. He had enough clients
from the neighborhood to stay afloat, but was hoping word would spread and
he'd get more jobs. He wanted to buy a house for Victoria, his wife. They
were holding back on kids until they had their own place, despite his
parents' pleas for grandkids and pledge to help out in whatever way they
could.

Before long, we were at Pappy's. "Well, here we are. Old place still hasn't
burned down, despite my grandfather's best efforts."

"Huh?" I chuckled.

"The man still thinks he can run the place by himself. Let me tell you,
dementia runs deep in my family..."

"I always knew you were demented. Nice of you to confirm that suspicion."

"Hardy-har-har. I'm serious. He's only 70, but the old noggin' ain't what
it used to be. Since grandma died..." He shook his head. "He hasn't been
himself."

"Yeah. I'm sorry about your grandma. I wanted to come, but..."

"School."

"Yeah." That time for real. I had an exam the next day.

He sighed. "I missed you the most at my wedding. For a while, I thought
about making you my best man."

"Really?"

"Why are you so shocked? We were best friends."

"Were. Costas, I'll be honest with you. I've been dreading this
reunion. You, the guys, this whole thing...It's not me anymore. It's not
that I'm better than all of it, it's just...I'm..."

"Different."

"You can put it that way, I guess. I've changed, man."

Costas smiled wistfully. "Not too much, I hope. Yeah, I realize things have
changed. Hell, they were changing in high-school. One day, we were attached
at the hip, the next...we each had separate lives, and we didn't seem to
cross each other's paths anymore. And hell, maybe we'll never recapture
that magic again, but at least we have a chance. We were the best of
friends. Maybe we can be again."

I smiled and felt at ease for the first time since I got home. "We can
try. And just who was the best man?"

"The Russian. I didn't so much as touch a bottle of booze for a month after
my bachelor party. Damn bastard almost put me in a coma that night, with
all the shit he made me drink."

"I very much doubt he made you do anything."

"Well, you know how I am when it comes to challenges. I can't back down
from a drinking contest. How was I supposed to know his bottle had water in
it, instead of vodka? I just thought that's how Russians are naturally
made, resistant to alcohol. Turns out the fucker can't hold his liquor for
shit, but he's a sneaky bastard. All the times Pappy gave us booze, he'd
nurse his drink and make us think he was on his fifth shot, instead of the
first."

I laughed as we went into the old one-storey brick building with the red
neon sign above the door I knew so well. Cheers erupted and as my eyes got
adjusted to the dimly-lit interior, I made out the smiling faces of Chris,
Alex, Colin, Paul and Andy N, as well as Manny, who rushed forward and
grabbed me in a bone-crushing hug. He was bigger than I remembered, but
where before there was fat, now was hard muscle.

"Dang it, Lee! You don't call, you don't write!" he said, as he let go and
started looking me up and down. "I tell ya, it's enough to give a guy a
complex. Made me think you didn't like me." I started to object, but he
stopped me. "Then I find out you barely keep in touch with any of the
guys. And I figure you're just a big city boy now, too good for us." I at
least had the good grace to look sheepish. "But you're still good ol' Lee,
come back to take care of his mom. So, we forgive you!" And he hugged me
again.

"Speak for yourself!" Paul said, walking over, trying to look pissed off,
the hint of a smile giving his hand away. "I mean, I understand not calling
any of these losers, but me? Damn it, Lee! I thought you liked hearing
about my sexual exploits. And I was so looking forward to hearing about
yours in the big city."

"Oh, God! And you wonder why I didn't call!"

"Hey, I wanted to live vicariously though you."

"Are you friggin kidding me? You had a new girl every other day!"

"Exactly. This isn't a huge metropolis, man. You can only go through so
many girls before getting a repeat. I actually had to go out with one girl
for a couple of weeks, so as to not waste the supply too soon."

"Oh, the horror!"

"You laugh, but it's hard for me, man..."

"I bet." Manny said, rolling his eyes.

"Not what I meant. Honestly, and you people say I have a one-track
mind. Anyway, I was hoping your escapades would provide ample entertainment
for me, perhaps even motivation for an extended visit."

"Alas, it was not to be. Now come here!" It was my time to crush someone in
a hug and damn it felt good. I was suddenly realizing how much I had missed
these guys.

"Group hug!" Alex yelled and I found myself at the center of a mass of
bodies, with everyone gathering around me, except Chris who, reserved as
always, just smiled kindly and shook his head in amusement.

"Okay, okay, break it up!" came the sound of a new voice and I turned
around to stare up at Reed's smiling face. "Do I need to bring you all up
on assault charges? Let the guy breathe!" He stuck out his hand and I shook
it, then grabbed his arm and pulled him in for an awkward hug. The guy was
almost 7 feet tall, so pretty much anyone hugging him would look
comical. "Welcome back, Lee." He said once I let go.

"Thanks, man. It's...it's actually good to be back."

"Note the reluctance." Costas cut in and I shrugged.

"Like I said..."

"Yeah, yeah...you changed." Costas turned to Reed. "So, what kept you?"

Reed's features darkened a bit and he dropped his voice to a whisper. "I
went to visit Jimmy. He's not doing too well."

"Next time, I wanna come with you." Costas said.

"I don't think that's a good idea. He didn't even seem too thrilled to see
me. I think he's afraid you'll just judge him."

"Christ Almighty! He's been a screw-up for as long as I can remember. And
as much as I think he'll keep screwing up, I have always been and always
will be in his corner."

"Guys? What's this about Jimmy?" I asked, curious.

"He's in rehab. Second time this year." Reed answered, his shoulders
slumping. "He's been getting worse and worse. I don't know what to do about
him anymore. We've all tried to help over the years, but..."

"He needs to want help, and he isn't there yet." Alex said, coming next to
us. "I almost went down that same path, but I had the good fortune of Chris
literally beating some good sense into me."

"Nothing you didn't deserve, little brother." Chris said, coming up behind
Alex and slinging his arm around his brother's shoulder. "But like you
said...You were willing to listen after that. Jimmy...he isn't. Not yet."

"Well, enough doom and gloom. We're here to celebrate. To Lee and to home!"
Costas said, raising his beer bottle.

I grabbed mine and raised it as well. "To friends!" I took a swig and put
down the bottle, intent on heading to the bathroom. As I turned, I walked
straight into someone. "Excuse me."

"Well, it's good to see you too."

I peered into those big chocolate eyes and felt myself going weak in the
knees. Cute button nose and dark, curly hair, cut short on the sides. Broad
shoulders and from what I could feel upon impact, a hard body. Shorter than
me, about 5'9". His t-shirt revealed slightly tan, well-developed arms. He
broke into a dazzling smile. "It's been a while, Lee."

Damn, Stephen had sure grown up!