“No girlfriend, either” Cal offered suggestively.
“None of my business” replied Mr. Marcus tartly. He stacked up the forms, giving Cal copies. “Here’s a temporary ID card that will get you into campus facilities like the library, gym, and so forth.”
“Do you use the gym?” Cal asked.
“I try to get a swim in a few times a week.”
“Maybe I’ll see you there sometime.”
“Perhaps.”
“You said you teach accounting, that means we’re in the same department. I guess business courses don’t rate their own department at a liberal arts college. Makes sense to me. You can help me get acquainted with the other faculty members.”
“Anything I can do to help, of course,” was Mr. Marcus’s solicitous reply. Cal thanked him again and went out passing the business office staff. Mr. Marcus heard their giggles and chat about the handsome new professor. He shared their fascination.
***
Mr. Marcus lost himself in swimming laps. It was the most quiet time in his quiet life. Sight and sound were lost to the water as it passed along his skin like a soothing caress. He retained the calm of his swim as he entered the locker room, making his way to a distant corner that offered a semblance of privacy.
Mr. Marcus heard him before he saw him. The distinctive voice of Professor Stephenson, greeting students warmly, completely at home in the athletic environment. The sound came closer. And there he was, consuming the open space at the end of the aisle of lockers. Mr. Marcus felt cornered. Why should he, he wondered. It was just another man in the locker room. And yet not just another man.
Cal stood naked, save for a damp towel around his waist. Mr. Marcus looked up at him, trying to keep awe from his face. “Stu” Cal exclaimed with affection. As Cal moved toward Mr. Marcus, the outline of his cock shifted against the damp towel, the large outline of the glans impossibly far down, nearly at the bottom of the towel. Mr. Marcus’s own penis twitched. “Glad to see you here. Have a good swim? I was hitting weights.”
“I can tell.” Mr. Marcus admired the still swollen muscles on Cal’s chest and arms.
“Trying to stay in shape. Tough to do with desk jobs like ours. Especially with cafeteria food.”
“Um, I, uh, well, if you’d like, and I don’t intend any obligation, but I do live just off the campus, the small house along the short cut to town. My kitchen is certainly not to gourmet standards, but it’s quite serviceable. You’d be welcome to use it.” Mr. Marcus had stepped beyond his comfort zone.
“That would be great. I really appreciate the offer. Hey, how about tonight? I could stop and get a few things. What do you like? Fish? There’s a market just in town, right? How about seven?” Cal was unstoppable. Mr. Marcus nodded ‘yes’ to all questions. “Oh, is there a Mrs. Marcus I should include?”
Mr. Marcus explained that his wife and he had separated a few years before. While they had not processed a divorce, she now lived in New York. They did not talk.
Cal accepted this without comment. Cal opened a locker a few removed from Mr. Marcus’s locker and snapped off his towel. His heavy cock swayed, trapping Mr. Marcus’s attention despite his efforts to look away. He felt diminutive in all ways in the presence of Cal.
Cal hummed happily as he dressed, telling Mr. Marcus of the various faculty and administration members he had met. Most, it seemed to him, either lived at a distance from the campus or were very involved in the lives of their children. It made the campus a lonely place for a single man, ironic with the presence of thousands of nubile young students. He accepted the very strict but appropriate guidelines on faculty/student relationships, acknowledging that only trouble lay in that area.
Once fully dressed, Cal took a moment to check his image in the mirror, then waved to Mr. Marcus with “see you at seven” and disappeared around the corner.
***
Mr. Marcus walked toward his home. He wondered how the evening would play out. What could he, drab Mr. Marcus, have in common with the vibrant, handsome, and sensual Cal Stephenson? Mr. Marcus knew he needed to tidy up his house. While naturally neat, he had lived alone in the house for over two years. No one had visited him in all that time. Upon entering his own home, he noticed for the first time the many small accents his wife had added — pillows on the couch, a vase long empty of flowers, student paintings on the walls. It was a nice house, small but comfortable. Mr. Marcus straightened up as he could, stashing unread magazines into a drawer. He went into the bathroom to make sure it was presentable, only needing to put out fresh towels. As he passed, he looked into the bedroom. The double bed sagged in middle, not so comfortable as familiar. It looked lonely. He sighed.
A great rapping came from the front door followed by lively hallooing. Cal had arrived, not waiting for an answer to come through the door. “Sorry I’m early, but I didn’t see any sense passing right by here to go back to the campus and then turning around. I’ve got some cold stuff anyway, and it wouldn’t fit into my ‘dorm’ fridge. Kitchen through here?” Cal passed the stunned Mr. Marcus. “Hey, do you have a grill?” Not waiting for an answer, Cal bounded out the back door. A moment later, he poked his head through the back door and shouted, “Just enough charcoal, do you have any newspaper I can use to start it? The salmon will be great over the coals.” Mr. Marcus provided a stack of newspaper. “Thanks. Hey, open the wine. I got a couple of bottles of a pretty good white — and it’s already cold.” Mr. Marcus searched for wine glasses and a corkscrew, finding them in the unused dining room. He opened and poured the wine, taking the glasses out to the back patio where Cal was lighting the grill. “Great house. Right near campus, and yet very private. Lovely view from your patio here. Hey, the wine is as good as the clerk said.”
Mr. Marcus had as yet to say a word. He stood to one side of the patio, feeling self conscious in his own home. He sipped the wine, cool and crisp, much like the evening air. He closed his eyes trying to find enough confidence to speak. An arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Thanks, Stu, for letting me barge in on you. I really appreciate the chance to prepare a real meal. It will be nice to eat with another adult. The students, they’re great, but they’re in another place than we are, it’s not the same as spending time with adults.”
Mr. Marcus felt the warmth of acceptance from a peer. “Yes, yes it is.” Mr. Marcus prayed for the moment, for the partial hug to continue. It ended too soon.
“There’s stuff in there for a salad and some couscous. I think it’s a good mix of the major food groups. And I’m liking the entry from the ‘wine’ group” Cal jested.
The smell of the grilling fish was exquisite. “I bought wild salmon, so much better. How do you like it? I like it a little more done — unless I’m having sushi.”
Mr. Marcus retreated to the house to set the dining room table for two at opposite ends. He wondered if candles would be too much. Cal came bustling into the kitchen to prepare the salad, helping himself to the contents of the cabinets for spices, utensils and dishes. He seemed more at home in Mr. Marcus’s kitchen than Mr. Marcus. When the salmon was done, Cal brought it into the dining room on a platter, dashing back to the kitchen for the other dishes. On seeing Mr. Marcus’s table arrangement, Cal took a step back, took a moment for thought, then immediately rearranged things so they would face each other across the narrow width of the table. He spotted candles on the sideboard, centered them on the table and lit them.