“When it’s colder, a fire in the fireplace will be great.” Cal was planning ahead.
They sat and ate the meal Cal had prepared. It was as delicious as any Mr. Marcus could remember. The wine was perfect. Cal held up most of the conversation, though Mr. Marcus did share a few anecdotes about the college. He had been there as an undergrad, gone to the city for graduate school, and had returned when finished with his master’s degree to join the business office, so knew the college and its denizens well.
He had met his wife there. How had he begun speaking of his wife, he wondered? The story came out of him, almost against his will. They had purchased this house and lived their together he thought happily. A few years before, Mr. Marcus’s wife had tearfully shared with him her disappointment at not having had children. For Mr. Marcus, it hadn’t been a conscious choice, it had just never happened. Mr. Marcus’s wife despaired of her life. She announced one day that she needed a change and had moved out that afternoon. Mr. Marcus had not seen her since. She called to tell him she would not be coming back and that if he wanted a divorce, she would cooperate, she wanted nothing from him.
So at the college, in this house, he still was. Cal made sympathetic noises throughout Mr. Marcus’s story. Cal got up from the table, offering to help clean up. Mr. Marcus refused, already regretting that this would hasten Cal’s departure, but too late, it was done.
“Let’s do this again soon, please?” Cal tried to persuade.
“Any time at all. This was the best evening I can recall.”
“Kind of you to say that.”
“Tomorrow?” Mr. Marcus was optimistic.
“I’m afraid I have to run into the city tomorrow, maybe the next night?”
“Sure, whenever it works for you.” Mr. Marcus tried to dampen his disappointment.
Cal wrapped his arms around Mr. Marcus in a great hug, leaving Mr. Marcus breathless, bid him good night, and set out for the campus on his bicycle. Mr. Marcus stood on the porch, watching the retreating figure until he passed out of sight. A slight scent of Cal lingered in the house when Mr. Marcus went inside. He breathed it in. He was grateful to touch the plates and silverware Cal had used, happy to be in service to Cal as he cleared the table and washed the dishes.
***
The following day, though as bright, held no sunshine for Mr. Marcus. He plodded through his day, skipping his swim, and retired to sulk at home.
Another day passed, but Mr. Marcus did not see Cal around the campus. He went to the athletic facility, did a perfunctory swim, but still no Cal. He began to feel like a stalker. They had made no specific date for dinner, there was no obligation, only Mr. Marcus’s wish to see Cal.
Cal called late that night. “Hey Stu! Sorry I didn’t make it tonight. I got caught up with some students reviewing papers and stuff. We grabbed a bite down at the pub and things ran late.”
“No problem, Cal, we didn’t really have anything definite. Whenever it works for you, I’m always around.” Mr. Marcus replied sadly.
“Great. I look forward to getting together again. Let’s see what happens.” Cal was enthusiastic, but non-committal.
Mr. Marcus struggled through another day. No one noticed his sadness around the office. He guessed it was too much like his normal disposition. Oh well. He had an evening meeting with the treasurer to review the status of the endowment — better than expected, yet never enough. The treasurer suggested that Mr. Marcus organize a meeting with the development department to explore ways to increase funds for the college. Mr. Marcus nodded his acceptance of the task.
The walk back to his house seemed to take longer than usual. Mr. Marcus felt the emptiness of his house when he went in. He took a TV dinner out of the freezer and turned on the oven. He hated the noise of the microwave and was usually content to wait for the longer conventional cook time. Nothing to do until bed time anyway, not that he was sleeping much lately.
Then he heard it. The sound of bicycle tires on his gravel drive. His heart was in his throat. He was here! “Hey Stu! I made it after all. And hey, I’ve got surprises and treats.” Cal came through the front door laden with bags.
“How did you manage to carry all these things on your bicycle?”
“I’m a big guy, I can manage.”
“I’ve got a car in the garage I almost never use. Please feel free to make use of it. It would be good to get it out once in a while.”
“Thanks, Stu, I’ll take you up on that. I’ll get the grill going, more charcoal right here. We’re having steak and baked potatoes tonight. It’s ‘man’s night’, tonight. I’ve got the makings for Manhattans, for which I confess to a weakness. You get some glasses and ice. We’ll start out a little sweet with a cherry, but finish straight up. Bourbon that is.” Cal made the drinks and handed one to Stu. Hell, Mr. Marcus didn’t drink, certainly not bourbon, this was Stu coming out of his shell.
Stu held his own in the conversation that evening. He heard himself laughing and joking with Cal. It was like being in a men’s club, the raw humor, rough camaraderie, and bourbon. They moved from the dining room to sit in the living room to enjoy ‘one more round’. At first, Cal sat across from Stu on a chair, but when making a particularly ribald joke, he moved to sit next to Stu on the couch. Cal laid his arm along the back of the couch, leaning in toward Stu who was rapt in Cal’s every word.
Then the atmosphere changed. They sat in silence, inches apart. Stu could feel his heart beating, the only sound in the room and his words, “I think I need another drink, I still have my cherry.”
***
Mr. Marcus awoke in the bed. It was morning, judging by the light coming through the curtains. He was surprised to be alone, the dream had been so vivid. He even felt an empty ache deep in his gut. The bed clothes were tangled and tossed. It must have been quite a dream. Then he heard it, the sound of a heavy stream of piss in the toilet. It wasn’t a dream. It had really happened. But what had happened? His memory was kind of fuzzy, oh yes, the bourbon.
Cal came into the bedroom, naked, his cock swinging with each step. He climbed into the bed, lying next to Stu — Mr. Marcus didn’t sleep with anyone, much less another man — cuddling against Stu, taking a moment to adjust his balls and drape his cock across Stu’s middle. Nice.
Stu’s mind began to clear, the memories came into focus. “Cal, it really happened last night didn’t it?”
“Yes, Stu, several times.”
“I remember you looking at me, when we were on the couch. What did you say, first I mean?”
“Stu, I hope this doesn’t mess things up between us, but this is something I gotta do.”
“Yes, that’s it.” Stu began to recite his memory of the night. “It was like a dream, and yet it was real. You leaned toward me and kissed me, full on the mouth. I had a momentary reservation, but something in me gave way. Your tongue was deep into my mouth, tasting of bourbon and lust. Next I was aware that you had opened my shirt and were massaging my left nipple. Heaven. I was so hard.”