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"Sing a song of sad young men, glasses full of rye. Longines was a moderately priced restaurant, which focused on good food, as opposed to emphasizing ambience or fancy decor. The tables were spaced nicely apart, so the guests could have private conversations without infringing on the personal space of other patrons. As they entered, the maitre'd spoke to Father Chris as if they had been friends for some time. David thought, Father Chris must be a frequent diner at this establishment. Father Chris and David found themselves seated at a table in the farthest corner of the quiet room, a room illuminated almost solely by the candles on each table. Their waiter introduced himself, and asked if he could take their orders for pre-dinner cocktails. Chris ordered a goblet of Vin de Chablis, while David chose a vodka martini with extra olives. As they waited for their drinks, David had a chance to survey the room, and realized it was more than half-filled with diners who were mostly male couples. He immediately asked himself if Chris had brought him to a gay restaurant? If so, what next? A gay bar after dinner? But he set those thoughts aside, since he still wasn't sure if Father Chris was gay, in spite of the shoulder and hand touching in the car. The only reference to Father Chris' sexuality had been made in the form of a remark by Steve, that had been at best, ill-advised… and at worst, in poor taste. As David studied the menu, Father Chris thought to assist by commenting on dishes he'd recommend, for which David was grateful. Actually, David realized that he hadn't eaten all day, and everything on the carte appealed to him. When the waiter brought their drinks to the table, David and Father Chris both ordered a salade verte, bouts de boeuf sur des nouilles, petit pois, and la peche flamboyante crepes for dessert. Father Chris added a bottle of a nice Chablis. David did his ordering in French, as he had taken an advanced French language course at the university, just as his now-ex-fiancée had done in order to communicate 'sweet nothings' in front of his parents, who spoke no French at all. David's natural familiarity with the foreign language was duly noted by Father Chris, though he said nothing. However, when the waiter left, Father Chris said, "You surprised me with your fluent use of the language. Have you ever been to France, or do you perhaps have French relatives?" David laughed, "A friend of mine and I used French in front of my parents as a verbal code, not letting them know what we were talking about. I'm sure it irritated my dad, but maybe that'd been all the more reason to do it." "My parents sent me to France between college and seminary." Father Chris explained. "I loved the country, and I developed more than just a penchant for French cuisine. That's why I love coming to Longines." "I must admit that I wondered when it appeared that all the staff here seemed to know you personally. I didn't think they could ALL be members of your church." "Actually, a few of them are..." Even though, the two originally had gone to dinner to talk about Mark and such dark matters, the dinner conversation remained light. Father Chris asked questions about David's schooling, when he graduated, his major, what he planned to do professionally… He hoped that this would distract David a bit from the morbid matters at hand, and open him up to speak more freely - and it worked. Whether it was the martini or the wine with dinner… or a bit of both; David found that he had relaxed, and had all but accepted, for the moment, the reason he had come to Atlanta in the first place. Not only that, but he found he was enjoying talking with Father Chris. Father Chris had a charm that radiated a relaxing warmth, even to a non-gay such as David. As Father Chris spoke, David tried to be inconspicuous as he inspected each feature of Father Chris' face... his slightly ruddy complexion, his smooth skin, and his perfectly shaped eyebrows above his dark emerald green eyes. Father Chris' nose was straight, and the perfect length to be either a model or a movie star. David had read several months ago in a People magazine that a national poll of women concluded that Brad Pitt had the most perfect lips of any man in Hollywood. David wasn't sure what Brad Pitt's lips looked like, but Father Chris' must be identical. Father Chris' dark brown hair was cut so that it just covered the tip of each ear. I've never even thought about what makes a man a 'hunk' before, David thought to himself, but Father Chris' head was certainly that of a 'hunk.' David's vision dropped below Chris' neck to a pair of broad shoulders, where David suddenly stopped! What the fuck am I doing, giving this priest the once over? He asked himself. I'm not gay! I'm not attracted to guys. So, what the hell am I doing? He felt he should get up and go to the bathroom, or something, to collect his thoughts. Between the entree and the dessert, David excused himself to Father Chris in order to make a call to Jenny Fairbanks, his fiancée. This was the call he'd put off all day. He'd dated Jenny on the rebound from his breakup with Sandy, and the two had gotten engaged only a few weeks later. Jenny had been the 'girl next door'-- well, almost next door. She'd grown up just three doors down from David's parents' house; and she'd known David, Mark, and their parents for practically her whole life. She was familiar with Mark's rift with his father, and had stood on neutral ground in the situation, but mostly found herself siding with David whenever possible; especially, since she and David had attended the same university. Calling Jenny was also an excuse for David to regain a touch of reality - removing him for the moment from the world of trauma and grief he had experienced in the past eight hours. It also gave David an opportunity to consider his unexplained and confusing attraction to his dinner partner, a gay priest. "Hello?" answered Jenny on a long-distance line in Virginia. "Hey, sweetheart!" "David?" "Who else calls you sweetheart?" he mused momentarily. "Darling, where are you? I've tried to reach you all day!" "Please don't get upset, but I'm in Atlanta... Atlanta, Georgia." "Surely, you're kidding?" "I... I wish I were..." "Whatever for? I mean, what are you doing in Atlanta?" "Honey, before I tell you, please try to understand why I didn't call you before I left this morning." "What's there to understand?" "Jenny, I got a call this morning from a Georgia sheriff's deputy breaking the news to me that Mark, my brother, was dead, and I needed to come down here to identify his body... and hell… I don't know... make funeral arrangements, or whatever I'm supposed to do." "My God, David. Was Mark sick... was it an accident? Please don't tell me he was murdered...?" "No, honey, he was sick... and HAD been for some time. He... he passed away from natural causes." "Do your parents know?" "Not yet. I... I haven't had the nerve to call them, and very frankly, at this point, I'm not sure that I want to call them... especially Dad." "But David, Mark was their son... the same as you..." "Not in my dad's eyes. Mark hadn't been his son for over two years." "But Mark's death... I mean, your dad can't hold a grudge now, surely." "Jenny, you know my dad. Can you see him holding his head high at the country club with all the members knowing he had kicked his son out of the house for being gay... and now, the embarrassment of finding out he was dead after being away for two years?" "David, I'm sure your mother doesn't feel the same way as your dad." "Probably not; but still, if my dad said it was snowing in the desert in the middle of July, she'd agree with him." "David... sweetie, I'm so sorry. How are you holding up?" "Physically, I'm tired as hell. Emotionally, I'm a wreck! Mentally, I can't think further ahead than ten minutes." "David, would it help if I flew down to Atlanta to be with you?" "I would love that, darling, I can think of nothing I'd like better than to hold you in my arms and cry my eyes out on your shoulder; but until I make a few decisions, I don't want anyone getting suspicious. Right now, no one but you knows where I am; and if you suddenly pop off down here, I might be forced into a rash decision that I would regret later... I mean, as far as Mom and Dad are concerned, I don't want them to know about Mark just yet. So, I'm asking you to please not let them know anything about Mark or me, or my whereabouts." "Is there some place I can contact you?" "Not at present. I'm spending the night at the place Mark was living, and there's no phone there, so far as I know." "Is it a house?" "Yes. A very old, dilapidated house in a section of town that in other cities would be called skid row. I'm sure there is no phone. I'm surprised the place even has running water and electricity." "Then why don't you go to a hotel?" "Mark had a roommate, who invited me to stay the night. I... I really didn't want to offend him. However, I probably will find a hotel tomorrow. I'll call you if I do." "David, is there anything I can do?" "Just love me, and think about me in your prayers." "You know I will, darling." "And don't breathe a word about this to anyone... please!" "I promise." "Oh, Jenny, I'm glad you didn't see Mark. I... I hardly recognized him. I... I swear, I don't think he could weigh ninety pounds." "What was it, cancer?" "No, hepatitis C, which apparently, is just as bad, or worse. At least there are hundreds of treatments to combat cancer, but from what I understand, the cure for hepatitis C is non-existent. I think there's a treatment, but from what I've heard, it's expensive as hell, and Mark was about broke." "Oh, God! How devastated you must feel." "Yes, I do." "Where are you now?" "I'm having dinner with a priest, who used to come by and bring Mark his meals. He knew Mark very well, and he's been my only source of comfort. At least he's someone I can talk to and ask questions about Mark." "I'm so glad you found someone at least." "We're just finishing eating dinner, and I slipped away to call you before the waiter brought dessert." "Then hurry on back to your table... but please, David, please call me tomorrow." "You know I will. I love you so much." "I love you too, my darling; and my love, my thoughts and my prayers will be with you until you get back." "Thanks. Good night, sweetheart." "Good night, my love." Hanging the phone up, David touched his face to find he had been shedding tears throughout his conversation with Jenny. He loved her, and he wished with all of his being that she was with him now. At his side, she would be a great deal of help and support for him during the traumatic decisions he would have to make over the next few days. Passing an empty table, which had not been bussed, David reached for someone's used napkin to wipe his eyes and nose before returning to his table, where he'd left Father Chris. David also took the time to run his fingers through his hair in an attempt to look presentable after his phone call. Then he went back to join Father Chris. "Nature called?" Father Chris asked. "Uh, no, I had to make a long-distance call to Virginia. I apologize for taking so long." "May I ask, were you calling your parents?" "No, they still don't know about Mark. I made a call to my fiancee Jenny in Virginia. I'm afraid I left this morning without letting her know anything about… well, anything. I... I did ask Jenny not to call my parents." "Do you have any idea when or how you're going to tell them about Mark?" "That decision is still up in the air. To be honest, Father Chris..." "Why don't you just call me Chris?" "Are you sure?" "Positively." "OK then, Chris, to be honest, I don't know if I'm gonna tell them." "Then should I assume that there's a chance you're not going to take Mark back to be buried in Virginia?" "There is that possibility... more likely a real probability." "You want to have him buried here in Atlanta?" "The administrator at the morgue said something about Social Security paying a nominal fee toward his funeral expense, and I've been toying with the idea all day of having him cremated. I've been wondering how much cremation would cost. Then I can either leave his ashes here, or take them home with me, and keep them hidden until such time as I'm ready to tell my parents..." "That is a plan... and probably a good one, if you don't mind my saying so. I... I'm not aware of your financial situation, but as a priest who's said hundreds of funeral masses, I've always been a firm believer that besides weddings, funerals are the most flagrant way of throwing away money that man has devised. I don't mean this to sound harsh or cruel, but you saw Mark this morning. I saw him last the day before yesterday, and there wasn't much of Mark left then. If he were my brother, I'm not sure I would want to spend thousands of dollars to preserve what remained of him. I think I'd rather remember him as he used to be." "That wasn't harsh or cruel, Chris. I've had the same thought all day. No one will ever view his body, even if it's embalmed... and to put that... that frail body - just skin and bones - into a five thousand dollar metal box to be buried in the ground seems almost sinful." David replied. "I... I... again, I'm speaking out of turn; but as you know, our food service at the church caters primarily to indigents... many have died, or are dying from AIDS. I have a contact who can, or will cremate for the fee that Social Security provides... if you decide that's what you want to do with Mark. The 'contact' is a member of the gay community in Atlanta, and does all he can to help in time of need." "I'm not a priest, but all I can say is 'bless him.'" "I do... every Sunday at mass." "Chris, can I ask you a pointed, but very personal question?" "Of course." "Earlier, when I was talking with Steve... before you and your three guys arrived, he... he sort of insinuated that you were gay. I since found out that Steve is a joker and blows everything a bit out of proportion; but… well, I mean, you don't have to answer. It's none of my business..." "Ah, dear Steve... he does speak loudly, and without carrying a big stick," Chris joked. "But this time, he reported correctly. Yes, David, I'm gay." "I... I've never had a conversation... a serious conversation like this... with any gay person. There are many things I would like to ask about... and if you don't, or won't mind...?" "You want a 'Cliff's Notes on Gay 101?'" "Maybe not quite that extensive. Since learning that Mark was gay, I've learned a lot on the subject, as I said, at the university library. I'm...well, this is getting really personal, but you just admitted to me that you're gay... yet you're a priest. Doesn't your vow of celibacy cover gay sex as well?" "I said I was gay, because I was born gay... but I didn't say I was a practicing homosexual. There's a big difference." "Yeah, I suppose there is." "I know your opinion has been shaded by all the news reports of priests molesting altar boys, and I couldn't blame you, if you threw me into that category, but I've never had sex with an altar boy or any man since I took my vows. That's not to say I didn't indulge in gay sexual pleasures during my teens and college years... before I became a priest." "Oh. Then you are gay, but not active?" "Precisely. Still, it does help me when counseling my gay parishioners, or the young people to whom I deliver meals." "I can see why they'd welcome you into their homes, and how they could open up and talk with you freely. You must be a great comfort to them." "Well, I try to be, David." "I must admit that I've found it very comforting being with you this evening." "And I with you." "For two years, since learning that Mark was gay, I've thought about everything possible, searching for an explanation as to why Mark was gay and I'm not. We were so much alike. Mark was an identical younger image of myself." "Who's to say why one brother likes chocolate ice cream and the other vanilla." "We both liked vanilla, come to think of it, Chris." "So that analogy certainly didn't help me to prove my point, did it? Let me put the ball in your court. You and Mark were so much alike... why are you heterosexual? Why don't you like guys as Mark did?" "It's funny, but I've never asked myself that question." "You asked me a personal question, now it's my turn." "Sounds fair." "When you and Mark were teens growing up, did the two of you ever experiment sexually with say mutual masturbation, the way most brothers do?" "No, we didn't. I've heard guys at the dorm saying that they taught their little brothers about sex. Some even said that they learned a thing or two from their little brothers. But Mark and I... never once did we..." "Perhaps, if the two of you had, you'd have a better understanding of how your sexual drives were opposite, yours and Marks." "I suppose I was afraid. The idea of sex, or as you put it 'mutual masturbation' with my brother would have seemed queer to me. I guess I wouldn't have done it, even if given the chance." "How about your buddies or best friends... no experimentation with them either?" "No, never." "Then at long last, I've met someone in that two percentile bracket Kinsey wrote about." "Pardon?" "In one of his reports, Kinsey perhaps pushed the envelope or exaggerated, but Dr. Kinsey said that nearly ninety-eight percent of all males had had some kind of homosexual experience... even if it was nothing more than a Boy Scout jerk-off contest around the campfire." "God, I sound like I'm the one who's queer! I never did anything like that." "You DID masturbate while being a young teen, didn't you?" "Sure. The first time, I guess I was fourteen." "Most young boys, when they first learn how to masturbate, think they've discovered something nobody else knows about." David smiled, "I did that, I remember." "Often, they wonder if their best friend knows about it? They usually long to share their secret information with someone, and they fantasize about doing it in front of, or even with their best friend. At that age, they are curious about size, and wonder if their organ is larger or smaller than their buddy's? Does he have a foreskin, or is he circumcised? Unanswered questions such as that can lead to sexual fantasies. Often, they become brave when they are together after school, at a sleepover, or on a camping trip, and the two drop their inhibitions… if only once, and just momentarily, engage in a simple innocent act of sexual experimentation or discovery." "I... I never did that." "At school during gym class, or afterward in the shower, did you ever find yourself trying to sneak a peek at the boy standing next to you?" "Well… yes, I guess I did, but I was always careful not to let him catch me." "And why did you peek?" "Human nature, I guess. It's like looking at a porn magazine full of pictures of women. One never looks at the woman's face, only the parts that she normally keeps hidden from view." "Were there ever any nude men in the magazines with the women?" "Well... yes." "Did you look at their 'hidden parts' as well?" "I suppose..." "Usually the male models are bigger than life... with longer than normal appendages. Did you ever feel the slightest bit envious that perhaps he was built differently, or looked more manly than you?" "Now that you mention it... I guess I did." "It's human nature, as you called it, for all men, straight or gay, to have some form of penis envy; the same way some women envy other women with well-endowed breasts. Don't tell me you're straight, but never noticed a woman's breast size... particularly in a porn magazine." "I did... and they created my masturbatorial fantasies." "Mark, I suppose, was more attracted to the enlarged male organs, just as you were to the female breasts." "But that doesn't explain why, does it?" "I guess not... but now at least, you have something new to think about." They both laughed. * * * When dinner was over, it was time for Chris to take David back to Steve's house. Chris pulled out his wallet to pay the cashier, but David insisted on putting the meal on his credit card. He told Chris to use his money for food for his Buggy Buddy expense account. After a moment of reflection, Chris acceded. As they were leaving Longines, a black car, on the other side of the street, made a sudden U-turn and pulled up close to Chris. The car had Fulton County Police license plates. The only person in the car was the driver. He rolled down the passenger window and called out to Chris. "Hey, Father!" Chris turned, looked, and replied, "Thad?" "Yeah! Wait there while I park. I need to speak with you." "Fine." The detective drove his car into a parking space designated as handicap parking and got out. "That's a good friend, Thad Burton. He's a county detective," Chris explained to David. "I hope there's nothing wrong," David replied, as Thad approached them on foot. "Hello, Thad..." "Father..." "Thad, this is Mark Stanley's brother David from Virginia. David, this is my friend Detective Thad Burton." "Nice to meet you," David said, putting out his hand to shake hands with the detective. Thad took David's hand and said, "Same here. I... I was sorry to hear about Mark. I only learned today that he'd passed away." "Thanks." "Are you out patrolling or cruising?" Chris asked Thad. "You caught me! A little of both," Thad answered with a wry grin. "I was kinda hoping I'd run into you. I stopped by the church, and Andy said you'd gone downtown for dinner." "Is anything wrong?" "Maybe… maybe not, but I'm kinda worried about Alex." "Concerning...?" "I can't be sure, but I'm almost positive he's smokin' crack again. I stopped by the Vane, and he wasn't there. Kerry, the bartender, said he thought Alex might be by later around ten." "Dear God, I thought he had fought and won that battle." "So did I, until I picked up a couple of guys last night... both of them users... and one of them mentioned Alex's name. I was hopin' that maybe you could talk to him before I did... because if he is using, I'll have to arrest him - I really have no choice." David covertly sized up the plain clothes detective. Thad was in his late twenties. His looks were a bit rugged with a five o'clock shadow. His clothes looked as if Thad had slept in them, or at least, as if his duds hadn't seen an ironing board in days. And Thad spoke with a New York accent, bordering on Brooklynese. Whether he was for real, or if he was just trying to play the part, he still emulated Dirty Harry or Charles Bronson in "Death Wish." But in spite of his unkempt appearance, his masculinity sprang forth, emanating a craggy handsome appeal. "What should I do, if I see him first, Thad?" "I don't know... maybe take him home with you, or back to the church, and find out for certain if he is using… maybe clean him up a bit. You don't pose a threat to him the way I would, if he saw me first." "He was doing fine as long as he was living with you, Thad." "Hell, don't I know it? The little shit!" Thad showed a little rage in his voice. "The problem was I couldn't trust him. With the cutbacks on the force, I had to work double shifts from time to time... and you know... when the tomcat's away..." Thad's voice tapered off. "I... I thought you two were a hot item. I felt sure Alex was in love with you." Chris said, showing no sign of reticence in mentioning Thad and Alex's relationship openly in front of David. "That makes two of us. I thought so too! I mean, we had great sex. He was keeping house while I was working. I'd come home to a hot meal, swept floors, washed dishes, clean sheets on the bed... all I could ever ask for in a partner." "And neither of you was unfaithful to the other?" Chris inquired. "Hell, no! Why should I be? He's all I could ever want, as long as he kept his nose powdered… and not stuck in powder!" "Then you want me to go the Vane later on, and see if I can find him and talk with him?" "Father... if you would..." "You know I will." "I'd certainly appreciate it a lot." "Think nothing of it." "How are the meals going?" "Fine... but we could always use more money," Chris said to Thad, then turned to David. "Thad usually sends a squad car to accompany the 'Buggy,' when we have to make late deliveries in rough neighborhoods." "I... I was wondering about your safety earlier, but I didn't want to mention it," David replied. "It's nice when the gay community has one of their own to serve and protect, so to speak," Chris added. Once again, David was stunned. First a gay priest, and now a gay detective? David suddenly felt he had been living in a plastic bubble, completely unaware of the diversity of gay guys. What next? He thought. Gay lawyers? Doctors? Judges? Congressmen? Senators? Presidents? Dog catchers? Just how large was the gay population? Thad heard a call on his police radio at that point, and had to run to catch it, saying goodbye to Chris, and telling David he hoped they'd get a chance to see each other again as he hopped into his car and left. "Thad's really a nice guy," Chris said, and a great detective. He does more to keep gays out of trouble than he does catching crooks and robbers. He's a great asset to the gay community. All the guys admire and respect him... as well as liking him as a friend, because he really is a friend to all of them." "You know, I'm a bit bowled over at meeting my first gay policeman." "There are dozens of them on the Atlanta force. Most of them aren't 'out' to the general public, but each has the other's back when trouble arises." "I'm certainly getting my gay education, and all in one day," David said, as he smiled and heaved a small sigh. "I'm sorry today has been so stressful for you. We... you and I... didn't talk very much about what your plans are. I must apologize. Maybe we can meet again sometime tomorrow?" "I really feel that it's helped me a lot getting to know a bit about the world Mark was living in. I feel like an alien from another country, and I'm just beginning to scratch the surface of Mark's life." "You wouldn't want to tackle the inside of a gay bar, would you?" "You mean the Very Close Vane?" "That's the one!" "I... I'm not sure, Chris." "Perhaps, it's best if I take you back to Steve's. I know you're tired, and you'll feel better after a hot bath and eight hours of sleep." "I... I'm still wound up too tight to sleep." David said, and paused before continuing. "Do... does the Vane serve mixed drinks?" "Yes, only it's more like 'watered-down' mixed drinks." "Against my better judgment, I think maybe a nightcap might help me get to sleep more easily." "You mean you want to risk going to a gay bar?" "Well, I... I won't be assaulted or attacked, will I?" "David, in spite of the picture the conservative media may paint of gays, they, or we, do not force ourselves on anyone... adults or children. Besides, you'll be with me. I hope you won't be embarrassed, if everyone who sees us together gets the impression that I finally got myself a boyfriend?" "Being that I don't know anyone here, what difference would it make? The question is would you be embarrassed if anyone thought I really was your boyfriend?" "I'd be flattered as hell, if anyone did! You are handsome, you know." "I've had girls who made me feel as if I were... but never a guy." "Then if you're willing to go, get ready to have your crotch ogled!" Chris' smile grew even broader. "Good heavens! What if I get aroused?" "You mean, get an erection?" "Well, yes." "Then just pull your pants up higher and flaunt it! Make 'em all want you! It would tickle me, if everyone thought I had access to something he couldn't!" "My God, what have I agreed to?" David laughed. "Absolutely nothing! Don't worry---as soon as I see Alex, assuming he's there, I'll talk with him... maybe get him to come home with me, and we'll leave. No harm done to anyone... so, don't despair or be afraid." "Damn! It sounds as if I'm gonna need TWO nightcaps!" "Have THREE... one for me!" Getting into Chris' car, they sped away into the night toward David's first gay bar experience. Without letting Chris see them, David closed his fists tightly to keep Chris from knowing his hands were shaking from nerves. Traffic across the sprawling city of Atlanta was a bit more congested than David expected. The trip from Longines to the Vane took over twenty-five minutes. At home in River Oaks, David could drive across town and reach any destination from any starting place in less than ten minutes. The stress of the long, traumatic day, plus the effect of a vodka martini, and half a bottle of Chablis were having their 'due' on David's emotional tension. He closed his eyes, almost falling asleep during the drive to the gay bar. When Chris entered the parking lot of the club, he found a space on the far end, and David opened his eyes as he felt the vehicle coming to a halt. "Take a cat nap?" Chris asked, glancing over at his new friend. "Mostly in and out," David replied "We're here. There's still time to back out, if you want." "Oh, no! I asked to come, and I won't renege now." "Then do me a quick favor." Chris said. "Just name it." "Reach behind my seat on the floorboard, and you'll find a small valise. Would you hand it to me?" "Sure." David fumbled to reach the case behind the driver's seat, retrieved it, and handed it to Chris, who took it and opened it, revealing what appeared to be a charcoal colored turtleneck shirt and a jacket. "I usually change my attire to that of a gay club patron before entering. Those inside, who don't know me, are somewhat 'taken back' if they see someone inside a gay bar wearing a clerical collar." "I think I understand." "I hope you'll forgive my immodesty while I change." "Sure… sure, take your time." Chris struggled behind the steering wheel to remove his black blazer, next his white clerical collar, and finally his black button-up shirt. David tried to appear nonchalant and not notice Chris' naked chest when it was uncovered... but it was like 'don't think of elephant' as he took a long look at the muscular chest covered lightly with black velvety hair. This added to the enigma David had experienced during the evening. Did Chris work out at a gym to maintain such an impressive physique? Not only that, but Chris' chest was tanned, as if he had sunbathed under a lamp, or outdoors. Perhaps, it was a natural hetero instinct, but David's eyes focused on David's perfect maroonish nipples. They were as beautiful as any woman's that David had ever seen. Chris pulled the stretch shirt over his head, tucked the bottom into his trousers, which accentuated the firmness of his torso, then slipped on a lighter gray jacket. "There! Does that look less like a holy frock?" Chris joked. "I call that my Clark Kent case, when I like to hide my occupational identity, and I can't find a phone booth to make my transformation." "You look like a regular guy," David replied, and immediately realized how dumb his remark must have sounded. "I... I didn't mean that... I mean... not that you aren't a regular guy. Hell, now it's me slurring your sexuality. Hell, I don't know what I mean..." Chris laughed heartily. "Relax---I know what you mean. No insult taken..." David was still a bit embarrassed. "Well, are we ready to go inside?" "I am, but the question is are you ready?" Chris asked, halfway jesting. "Just don't leave my side." "I wouldn't dream of it. You're my faux date, remember?" "We... we won't have to hold hands or anything, will we?" "Only if you want to..." "And no... no hugging or..." "David, will you please relax? Nothing is going to happen to embarrass you, I promise. Otherwise, I wouldn't have brought you with me." "Okay, let's do it, then." The two got out of the Chris' car, and he locked it. They walked almost the length of half a football field to get to the bar entrance. And halfway there, the ground began to rumble with the same vibration one feels when a car with a heavy bass boom-box passes. The music was loud… very, very loud, even with the door of the bar closed. And it became even more deafening when they entered. Strangely enough, the deejay, perched on a podium at the end of the room, was playing 1980s disco music. In spite of it being a Monday night, the place was jam-packed with young gay men dancing, hovering around the long bar, or seated at a large array of tables. David felt like covering his ears to keep his eardrums safe from permanent damage. Chris surprised David slightly when he reached to take David's hand. "Hold tight, and follow me through the crowd to the bar," David shouted above the loud music. David realized that Chris' reaching for his hand was not romantic, but more like a guide on a hike across a wide ravine or thick forest - a forest of young men. As the two made their way through the multitude, David got his first shock when he saw two guys French-kissing, twisting their heads and mouths, tongues probing as far into the other's mouth as they could reach. David quickly looked in another direction from the couple, and immediately saw another couple engaging in a deep kissing session as well. Again, David looked away and saw men kissing all over the bar, even some while dancing in the middle of the floor. The passion David observed was identical to what he had seen at college parties involving straight men and women. It had never occurred to him before, but he suddenly accepted the idea that gay men must kiss and make love the same as hetero couples. After the initial shock of recognition, David soon accepted the activity as the natural thing to do. His 'gay' education was expanding even further. But there was more to come, when all of a sudden an announcement was made on the house speakers, saying "SHOWTIME!" just as David and Chris received their ordered drinks at the bar. Chris leaned over to David's ear, and said loudly, "Come on, let's try to find a seat at a table. This should make your day complete, my friend!" "What?" "Come on!" Chris dragged David by the hand to a table with two empty seats, alongside four other guys, just in time for the drag show to begin. First was Miss Lucy Lust lip-synching Peggy Lee's recording of "Fever." David found himself gaping with dropped jaw at the feminine beauty of the impersonator... dress, makeup, hair, with feminine gestures precisely to the letter of womanhood. She, or rather he, was absolutely gorgeous in David's eyes. During the next forty-five minutes, nine more drags performed, and David swore that each was prettier than the one before. He was in awe of the show, never having seen anything like this. These 'girls' were not gaudy or overly made up, they looked genuinely like real ladies, some of whom David was sure he might have dated without ever knowing their secret. He got into the spirit of the production, and was actually leading the applause… even standing after some numbers. Chris was pleased and amused, pleased that the show had at least temporarily diverted David's grief, and yet amused at how good-naturedly David was accepting the gay presentation and atmosphere. The show finally ended, and the deejay returned to playing disco dance music as the seated crowd once again returned to the dance floor. Again, Chris spoke loudly into David's ear. "What did you think of the show?" "It was fantastic!" David exclaimed. "But there's no way on God's earth that I could ever be convinced that the girls were actually guys. I'd have to see for myself... not that I have any intention of doing so... it's just..." "I know, David, I know. You don't have to explain." "Thanks." "Do you think you'd feel safe, if I leave you for a few minutes to see if I can find Alex for Thad?" "Sure, go ahead, I have to go to the head anyway." "It's in that far corner... beneath that lighted sign marked 'Ladies.' You won't get into trouble, will you?" "Not hardly, I can take care of myself." "Relax--no one is going to jump you," Chris assured him. "I am relaxed... really, for the first time today, I'm really relaxed." The sudden discovery amazed him. Chris wandered through the crowd of dancers looking for Alex, or for anyone who might have seen him. David was a bit shaky from the drinks and the stress of the day, as he walked toward the men's room… and he did feel a bit strange walking under the sign. To his knowledge, he couldn't ever remember going into a 'ladies' room in his life. The bathroom was dim with a strip of fluorescent bulbs on three of the sides of the room where the ceiling met the wall. One gave off a pale blue light, another an eerie green, and the third, David would probably have called a whorehouse red. The red light, which spilled down the wall was the one over the long tray urinal where six guys were standing, supposedly peeing. There were six private stalls containing toilets, but he saw they were occupied as well. David had to stand in line to wait his turn at the urinal. With every two steps, he found himself even with the next toilet stall door. The fourth door was cracked, and David casually looked inside, trying not to be obviously curious. He realized too late that it was too bad that he looked, because there were four young men inside the fourth booth... all four with their pants dropped down to their ankles. One guy was on his knees giving oral sex to another, while the other two were engaged in anal intercourse. It was crowded to say the least, but none of the four seemed to mind, or to let the cramped stall interfere with their sexual pleasures. David's first impulse was to turn and leave quickly, but his full bladder convinced him to stay... to just look away and take care of his urgent need to pee. By turning his head, he looked toward the row of six lavatories. Several guys were seated on or beside them, and appeared to be passing a cigarette to one another. Marijuana? Sex on display? The drag show had been entertaining for David, but the 'show' in the men's room disturbed him to the point that he wanted to hurry and leave as soon as he could find Chris. What he had just seen was a little too advanced for this stage in his gay education. The four years he'd known, dated, and later gotten engaged to Sandy, they'd had sex... but never oral sex... either of them. Sandy found the idea disgusting, and had said so. She had told David never to try going down on her, because she would feel indebted to repay the gesture on him... and that was one debt she was not willing to pay; so the subject never came up again. A few of David's classmates had talked about their girls giving them blowjobs, but David dismissed the idle chatter and descriptions by chalking it off as 'disgusting,' just as he and Sandy had decided. But no matter how hard he tried to resist, David kept stealing quick glances at booth number four. He'd never seen oral sex performed, let alone indulged in it himself, and it did pique his curiosity to the point of embarrassment when he found himself becoming aroused. Now, he was in big trouble! He had to pee in the worst way, and with a sudden unexplained erection, it really would be peeing in the worst way. He knew for certain that whoever stood next to him at the urinal would see his condition, and perhaps get the wrong impression. How in hell can you get a hard-on to go down without taking care of it sexually? was his 'question-of-the-day!' Fortunately, by the time he passed stalls five and six - doors closed, thank God! - he was just about to reach the urinal, and he was only semi-aroused now. He couldn't understand why peeing in a gay bathroom was so different from doing it in any other men's room. He had peed alongside guys all his life at school, in restaurants, movie theaters... but peeing beside a known homosexual suddenly presented a problem. David wasn't sure whether he would be able to pee or not. What if his erection returned... only bigger, and some guy assumed that he had caused David's involuntary action? What if the guy casually reached to touch David? Would he yell, or hit the guy? God! What a dilemma! He thought. The guy ahead of David in the urinal line finally finished and zipped his pants. It was David's turn to fit himself between two guys to relieve himself in the long trough. David's immediate solution was to close his eyes tightly and concentrate on urinating as fast as possible. And he almost jumped when the young guy to his right spoke to him. "Burn?" the guy said to David. David opened his eyes to see a kid, about eighteen years old, blonde, with a cherub face of innocence... certainly not a tall dark molester. "Pardon?" David replied "I said, does it burn?" "Does what burn?" "Does it burn to pee?" "Of course not! Why did you ask?" "I saw the way you were squinting your eyes while you were peeing." "Oh?" "Yeah, I did that when I had the clap! Burned like shit! I thought maybe you had the same problem!" "No... I... I'm... I'm just getting over a... a... a bladder infection... and it still hurts to go..." David lied on the spur of the moment. And he was amazed that he'd been able to think quickly enough. "Shit, I've had that too. It hurts like hell. I've had the clap once - and gonorrhea. Now, that's what really hurts!" "I can imagine!" David replied. "You come here often?" "Uh... no... this is my first time... I'm visiting Atlanta." "I saw you come in with Father Chris. Are you two friends, or more than just friends?" "Just casual acquaintances." "He's a great guy. He used to bring meals by to my ex-lover before he died." "I'm sorry to hear that." "He was the third lover I've lost." "That must be very traumatic for you to lose that many. You look so young." "With each one, it gets easier… and that's a lie." David had no response to the kid's last remark, so he focused on finishing, and wondered why he was standing with his penis out at a urinal talking to a stranger. "Well, I gotta go," the kid said. "Nice talking with you." "Yes... same here." "I hope you don't take offense, but you've got a nice cock!" David flinched when he heard that phrase, and instantly his flow of pee halted; and now, he was in pain. The kid left, and another guy took his place, as David once again closed his eyes, but this time dropping his head, so his new 'pee partner' couldn't see his face. Finally, he was successful in emptying his bladder, zipped up his pants, and all but ran to the door... avoiding any glance whatsoever at booth number four. 'Oh, God! Let me get out of here, Lord, and I'll never go to another gay bar as long as I live!' David prayed quietly to himself as he went back into the main room to find Chris. He was headed toward the table from which they had watched the show when he saw Chris struggling through the dancers, hustling to get to David. "Hey, David!" Chris yelled. "I'm glad I caught you. We have to leave in a hurry!" "What's wrong?" David screamed back. "Let's go outside, where we can talk at a normal level." "Sure thing!" David was not sorry to be leaving. Actually, it was a huge relief. The two elbowed their way to the bar, where Chris handed Kerry, the bartender, a ten dollar bill to cover his and David's drinks, then they scrambled toward the door, and nearly fell outside into the parking lot away from the pounding strains of Gloria Gaynor. "My God!" David exclaimed, "I can hear again. Now, what's wrong?" "Listen, David," Chris said, excitedly, "I need to rush you back to Steve's, because I've got to head to the county hospital!" "An emergency?" "Alan, one of the kids that knows Alex, said Alex was rushed by the EMS to the emergency room! It appeared like he'd OD'd." "Damn!" David replied. "This day just doesn't want to end!" "Let's get in the car PDQ." "Chris, for God's sake, don't worry about me, head toward the hospital. Alex probably needs you. If nothing else, I can call a cab to get back to Steve's!" "Are you sure? I mean this is a terrible imposition, considering what all you've been through today." "Think nothing of it! Alex should come first." "Thanks, David." Chris' eyes seemed to ask a question, but the question wasn't directed at David. It took less than fifteen minutes to reach the county ER, and after he parked, Chris ran toward the door of the hospital, reaching it just as Thad was exiting. Chris looked at Thad's expression, and no word needed to be said - Alex was gone... gone from Thad's life, and Chris' life, and lost to everyone who had known him. Chris stepped closer to Thad and embraced him as Thad burst into tears. The big handsome bully of a detective seemed to crumple into Chris' arms like a grieving widow. David was ten steps behind Chris, but it only took a second for David to comprehend the situation, and David's temporarily forgotten grief of losing his own brother returned to him, impacting him like a wrecking ball. First Mark, now Alex---What was gay about gay life? David wondered, as he stood back to watch his two newest acquaintances grieve. |