Date: Fri, 21 Aug 2020 08:52:06 -0500 From: Heirloom Beans Subject: Jono and the Edge: Chapter 1 Jono and the Edge: Chapter 1 DISCLAIMER: The following story is fiction, it is not, nor should it be understood as, real events or alluding to real events. It is not a discloser of the sexuality of the persons described and is not written from any place of personal or perceived knowledge. The following is meant for personal entertainment and titillation only, and should not be understood as factual or mean-spirited. Please enjoy! .... Judy garland didn't throw the first brick at stonewall to have journalists question if the first major gay candidate for president was a top or a bottom. Although he knew that Tony Kushner would shake his head looking down at him for not-dead Jewish not-heaven that's all Jon Lovett could think about. Jon was not a sexually voracious person, there had been those nights at J-camp but rolling around naked with that summer's cast of Hair, but Jon only caught sharp elbows and flat A's. No it wasn't typical for this seasoned media professional to feel every pore on his body push out a drop of sweat during an interview. Working for Hillary Jon had acclimated for working in icy rooms, but this was not a hot sweat... This was horny sweat. Pete continued talking, "There's all sorts of places for that love to go." Jon remembered he had asked a question about Pete's latent perfectionism, "a great fucking question" Jon thought to himself as he imagined where his Pulitzer would go back at home. "I'm conscious that I'm on the couch now, and I'm not very good at PLUNGING into my own backstory," Pete said as we made searing eye contact with Jon. 'He's playing with me' Jon thought, 'plunging, I mean come on.' The eye contact as well was so intentional, not the "we both reached for the freezer door at the 24 hour 7-11" look, nay not the "smile at the weird stranger on the train so if he's a murderer this will be a personal ram's blood" eye contact. This was the eye contact that takes one back to the basest animal instincts, something that overwhelmed him with the fear of being caught and killed. But that's the rub, as he stared, he saw Pete's pupils dilate like a 5 gum ad, maybe Jon wasn't prey after all. He couldn't tell who was going to be the lion and who was going to be the slightly smaller weaker lion in this animal metaphor. At that moment Jon had a separate sinking feeling, this was the longest he had gone all week, without talking. This retina tug-o-war lasted only seconds to the podcast audience, maybe Travis would even edit it out entirely but to Jon this gap momentary lull could have lasted the entire length of 1600 Penn including commercials. He asked his next question and went back to his thoughts. 'What position would he take on the issue of the bedroom,' Jon could not shake this recurring query. "It's the things that make you fit in one context" rattled on Pete. Jon was starting ahead like Pete was his math professor talking about one thing while he pondered a question far more important. Would Jon's love fit? or would Pete make his booty edge? ... It was much later after John had his six-course dinner, which is what Jon called going to the 6 fast food drive-throughs at the strip mall off the 5 and Santa Monica. He sat in his car and thought more about Pete. He had to get to the bottom/top of it. He thought about it as he turned his Prius with a "you can laugh but I'm still better than you" bumper sticker, back on the freeway to Pete's hotel. He psyched himself up, he could just ask him flat out, mo to mo, he was after all a straight shooter respected on both sides. The more he thought about it, the more he realized his occupation with Pete's position was drifting, not just was he a top or a bottom, what was he like in bed? The questions swirled into a miasma of horny inquisition while he walked toward the hotel. As he turned the corner, he saw private security standing at the hallway intersection. "He's expecting me" Jon said with all the swagger of a coastal elite who had been on Colbert to give color commentary after a presidential debate and walked past. He knocked and almost instantly the door creaked open, and Jon could just a bare leg and towel. There's a moment in an adventure when things are about to get real, a fulcrum where there is still the opportunity to deny what's happening, to fall back into the defense of a bit. Jon, like anyone who had flirted with a straight man, was approaching the point where this could no longer be defused with a punchline. It was intoxicating. "Jon?" Said the voice from the other side of the door. "I thought you were room service" Pete stammered. Jon almost imploded from the number of servicing jokes that flooded his frontal cortex. 'Jon reign it in... focus,' he thought to himself, he was not here to make jokes. "no it's me, Jon" he said with all the effort of holding in a fart during a memorial service. Jon expected this to end here, but instead- "Come on in," Pete said, opening the door with all the midwestern charm of a wheel of cheddar. Jon stepped in and closed the door behind him, as he turned to face the room, it was your standard two-bed hotel room, complete windows that looked out to the parking lot which was disappearing as Pete closed the blinds. "Two queens?" Jon said before he could catch himself. "They always put me in a bigger room, it never feels appropriate, current company excluded." Pete smirked, before a drop of water from his still wet hair ran down into his eye as if he had forgotten what he was doing before Jon walked in. Jon could see his chest rising and falling without the armor of his white shirt. The two were looking at each other like a couple on a first date avoiding the dessert menu, trying to calculate the right move, not wanting to assume any risk. "What did you order?" Jon said surfacing from his standing coma. "man... uhh... Mandarin chicken" Pete said, his face beginning to blush like the cover of Mad magazine. He recovered his senses and made a move toward the bathroom by the main door. "I would be happy to order a double if you are sticking around," he said as he passed Jon, their fronts almost connecting as they did that thing people do when they go flat against a wall instead of moving to let someone by. "No I've already eaten" protested Jon meekly. Now half shouting to the bathroom, despite the door being open. The door being open and the light being on, with the large mirror above the sink clearing from the condensation. Jon using his bathroom periscope could see Pete remove the towel from around his waist as he brought it up it over his head and shook like Air Bud at a pool party. "so what can I do for you," said Pete now himself shout-talking above the bathroom fan and the noise of the towel. ?? "well I needed to ask a few follow up questions for the pod" "about what?" said Pete, stopping his drying and bringing his head up to the mirror where his eyes meet those of peeping Jon. They were locked again in each other's gaze, but who was the headlights? and who was the deer saying, "plow me daddy?" "I was curious if -" Jon sputtered, Pete stepped out of the bathroom now towel hanging from his neck like the worlds loudest statement necklace. And the statement was "I'm naked." "So what it's like being the first openly gay presidential candidate who's favorite color is Khaki?" It was a neg from a nan who was a nag, but Jon talked like Lady Bracknell when he got intimidated. "I think I wore some very festive Navy for you today Jon." Pete volleyed back, he was toying with him. Jon knew in a conflict Pete would tend for the center lane, so his return fire was unexpected. Jon knew his Marist Poll could have no margin of error. Jon felt his heart beating in his throat "Are you a top?" he managed and his mouth hanging open as he took in Pete for the first time. Maybe it was the water from the shower or the overhead boob light but Pete was glistening. His petite frame told the story of his army days, with tight muscle groupings in the arms and legs. His hair was uniformly trimmed acting like a roadmap from the chest through the abs and down to the groin, where hung a dick and balls that even at its half chub, would have given Steve Rodgers' America's ass, a run for its money. Pete looked steadily ahead, it felt to Jon he was looking through him. "I've always found in life I enjoy service more than leading," Pete said with an almost smile knowing he had Jon's signature card for this one-man caucus. "You sonofabitch" Jon started as the two closed the distance between them and kissed.