Horizons Page 2

“Keep it dry, avoid bumping it, and don’t stick any sharp objects down there trying to relieve an itch. You can do more damage than good.”

  “Gotcha.”

  I DREAMED about Jody that night. It was a recurring dream, only in the past, the faces had been hazy and unfamiliar. This time the body that made me toss and turn had the doc’s face. The fantasy became much more intense and I woke up to a raging boner, which I took care of in seconds as I imagined his mouth moving up and down my cock.

  I lay in bed and wondered where the hell this came from. It was one thing to act on the spur of the moment, like I’d done earlier today, but to actually dream about the man was something else. Being raised in a primarily male household left little room to indulge in these fucked-up thoughts. If anyone in my family found out I was harboring fantasies about my doctor, or any man, for that matter, I’d be thrown out in a second. Even my mother wouldn’t be able to save me.

  I’d lost my virginity when I was thirteen, most probably because I was already almost six feet tall and looked like I was eighteen. It was hurried and over in about four minutes. After that there was an endless stream of women who passed through my life. I made it a point to sleep with as many of them as possible hoping this would keep the other feelings at bay.

  Unfortunately, not one of them made me sit up and pay attention for longer than a few weeks. They didn’t stir my blood or play any part in my ongoing fantasies. I developed a reputation as a player, the ultimate challenge, the one who refused to commit.

  As I got older, the women continued to throw themselves at me, and I did my best to live up to everyone’s expectations. However, no amount of dating seemed to keep the other feelings away. I still looked at certain men longer than I should have, still imagined what it would be like to have a man go down on me. These thoughts continued to plague me on a daily basis, and now the doc seemed to be the main attraction in this ongoing slide show in my head. Imagining him naked and begging was enough to get me off in mere seconds.

  My sporadic visits to the ER were unnecessary, but I made them nonetheless, just to see the guy. He could have told me to fuck off, after all; he wasn’t my attending physician any longer, but he always showed up and did a cursory exam to see how I was doing. I went out of my way to wear shirts that were difficult to remove so he’d have to help me. It was a stupid and dangerous game, one that would never see fruition, but I couldn’t help myself. I was flirting with disaster but unwilling to stop. His every touch sent electrical shockwaves directly to my dick.

  What kept me going was the certainty that he wanted me as well. He and I had become quite adept at touching each other unnecessarily. I could tell by the way his hands trembled by the end of each visit and his breathing would shift and become a little ragged. The last time he all but threw me out, urging me away in a voice raspy with suppressed feeling.

  It was during one of my checkups that I decided to ask him out for dinner. I did it on the pretense of gratitude for a job well done. In actuality, I was throwing caution to the wind, and giving in to the impulse once again.

  “You don’t need to take me to dinner, Clark. I didn’t do anything special.”

  “Maybe not, but I’d like to anyway. Come on; let me buy you a meal.”

  “Clark, you don’t have to.” The doc seemed very reluctant, probably in light of all that was going on with us during my follow-up visits, but I persisted, and he finally agreed.

  We drove to Skates on the Bay in his black BMW. You could have eaten off the floor, which said a lot about the man. I wondered if he was this anal about everything else in his life.

  “Tell me something about you,” I asked, after we got settled and the waiter brought our drinks. He was having a frozen margarita, and I had my usual Corona.

  “There’s nothing much to tell. I’m just a simple Midwesterner living out his dream in the Bay Area.” His smile came easily, along with that small dimple that I noticed on the first night we met.

  “Are you some kind of genius?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You went to Stanford, didn’t you?”

  “You don’t have to be a genius to go there. I just got lucky.”

  “Oh, come on. You were probably on the fucking honor roll in your school.”

  He laughed, but I was comfortable with it, knowing he was laughing with me and not at me. It was the end of the day, and the shadow on his face was thick, giving him that dangerous look that I found so appealing. His hair fell over his forehead, and he raked it back with his long fingers in an unconscious move. I tried to imagine what that hair would feel like fanned out all over my chest. I was embarrassed by my own thoughts, so I pulled a piece of bread out of the basket and tore it apart.

  “I was a good student,” he said, breaking through my train of thought. “Do you come from a big family?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I replied, “There’s a bunch of us. I’m the runt of a five-son litter.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Yup. I’m the baby of the family, subject to all the indignities of being the youngest.”

  “Such as?”

  “My brothers bullied me constantly, so I learned how to fight at an early age. I also got quite good at running away from them.”

  “Like Forrest Gump.”

  I laughed at his comment, a picture of Tom Hanks running across the football field vivid in my brain.

  A waiter arrived to take our order. “My name is Brad. What can I get you guys?”

  I rattled off my usual: steak, medium rare, and a baked potato, loaded. Jody ordered some kind of fish.

  “Hey,” the waiter said, sticking the pencil behind his ear and getting really animated. “Aren’t you Clark Stevens?”

  I nodded.

  “Dude, I’m a huge fan!”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “I’ve been watching you ever since you started at Cal. Your numbers are outstanding, man.”

  I could feel my cheeks burning up, an embarrassing physical trait I couldn’t seem to outgrow.

  “I heard you broke your arm?”

  I lifted my arm and showed him my cast. “The doc over there patched me up.”

  The waiter turned to Jody. “This kid’s going places, Doc.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “I’ll be bringing your food as soon as I can.” He gathered the menus and left.

  Jody took a sip of his drink. “I had no idea you were so famous.”

  “This is Berkeley, Doc. Anyone who likes California Golden Bear football knows me. Outside of this area though, I’m nobody.”

  “I think you’re just being modest.”

  “Let’s not talk about me anymore.”

  “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

  “How come your name is Jody? Isn’t that a girl’s name?”

  He cracked a smile. “My real name is Jude. Jody’s a nickname that stuck.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you to have a girl’s name?”

  “Not at all. What about you, Clark? Were your parents big Superman fans?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know, Clark Kent, Superman’s alter ego.”

  “I was named after Dwight Clark.”

  “Who?”

  “San Francisco 49er. Best wide receiver ever. He was huge in 1981, the year I was born.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” Jody said, leaning forward, “I’m not a big football fan.”

  “I forgot,” Clark noted. “Let’s change the subject, then. Tell me about your girlfriend?”

  “No girlfriend.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m gay.”

  “Oh.” It shocked me to hear him say it out loud. He was so matter-of-fact about it I was jealous that he was so sure of himself.

  “You don’t look gay,” I shot back, immediately realizing how stupid that sounded.

  Jody’s surprise was evident in the shift of his body and his raised eyebrows. He looked confused by my last state
ment. Finally, he cocked his head to the right. “Do you think we all wear mascara and sequins?”

  “No,” I said quickly, backpedaling like mad. “I don’t know much about your world.”

  “I didn’t think so,” he said, taking a sip of water and getting serious again. “Does it bother you? Being with a gay man?”

  “Why should it? You don’t look gay. Besides, you’re my doctor; nothing else.”

  “Right,” Jody said, never taking his eyes off mine. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks again. Could he tell about me? Did gay men just know about other men who were attracted to them, but too scared to do anything about it? Was I sending out some sort of signal I wasn’t aware of? My mind was filled with a thousand questions, but all I could think to ask was, “Have you always known you’re gay?”

  “I knew something wasn’t right when I preferred watching Martha Stewart over Monday Night Football.” His easy tone settled my tension. “Then when I started salivating over Sean Connery’s hairy chest, I knew I had issues.”

  “I’ll bet,” I replied, unable to keep the smile off my face. “Were your parents pretty cool?”

  “They were, after they got over the initial shock. My father had me when he was in his late forties. He was a widower when he met my mother, and by the time I was a toddler, he was old enough to be my grandfather. He spoiled me rotten,” Jody admitted with a grin. “Dad’s never been able to stay angry at me for longer than a day, so when I came out, he took it in stride and began his quest to make me the best-educated gay man in Illinois.”

  “How?”

  “By keeping me disease free. He was rabid about safe sex, and I had videos hurled at me left and right. At the time, I thought it was all a little over the top, but as I got older and learned more, I realized what a loving thing he did. Mind you, this was all coming from a straight man with two grown sons. He could have just ignored me, hoping it was a phase that would pass, but he chose to be honest and open, which made an incredible difference in my state of mind.”

  “You’re lucky they accept you for who you are.”

  “I am. My parents were way ahead of their time. They acted like PFLAG parents long before they ever heard of it.”

  “What’s PFLAG?”

  “It’s a support group for parents of gay kids.”

  “What about your mom? Do you two get along?”

  “She’s a sweetheart, but I was always closer to my father.”

  “That’s great,” I said.

  He must have heard the envy in my voice because he asked, “I know we talked about this before, but you never really gave me an answer. Don’t you and your dad get along? He seemed very interested in you and your career.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “Oh?”

  “Let’s not talk about him. I want to enjoy my dinner,” I said, forcing a smile. The idea of discussing my father and his obsession with my career wasn’t exactly appealing.

  “Do you always shy away from carbs?” I asked, noting the lack of rice or potatoes on Jody’s plate.

  He shook his head and swallowed before answering. “Not really. I just watch what I eat. I can’t afford to get love handles at my age. Once they creep up they’re hard to get rid of.”

  “What are you, twenty-six?”

  “I knew that French cream was a good investment,” he joked. “I’m thirty-three.”

  “Big deal, you’re not that old.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’re still in your twenties. Once you pass thirty, it’s downhill all the way.”

  “Aww, come on, you look great.” Our eyes met and held, the unspoken words thick as syrup between us. My cheeks felt like they were on fire, so I quickly looked down at my food, attacking my baked potato with my fork.

  “Clark?”

  “Yeah?”

  Jody reached across the table and laid his hand on mine. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  I yanked my hand back, scanning the place to see if anyone was watching. Jody was clearly taken aback by my reaction. His warm smile turned frosty, and he withdrew and put both his hands on his lap. I was ashamed of what I had just done, but it was too late. I wanted to say “I’m sorry.” Instead I remained silent.

  The evening was ruined after that. Conversation became stilted, and I could tell that Jody wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. We finished our meal, declined dessert, and when I asked for the check, he reached for his wallet.

  “Don’t, please,” I insisted. “I told you this was my treat.”

  “And I told you it wasn’t necessary, Clark, but thanks anyway.”

  Those were the last words he spoke that night. I wanted to say so much, yet I ended up saying nothing, an omission that would haunt me for days.

  Chapter 2

  WE DROVE to the hospital parking lot in silence. I pointed out my car, a beat-up Volvo I’d inherited from my mother, and he pulled up beside it and waited silently as I got out. He nodded when I thanked him, but took off without saying a word.

  I stood as he drove away, the custom license plate mocking me with the letters PROUD2B framed with a thin strip of rainbow colors.

  The inside of my car was a disaster; a rolling locker room filled with clothes, books, and fast-food wrappers. The odor of worn cleats and day-old coffee added to the mix. I made a mental note to get the shit cleaned up, even though I knew the likelihood of that happening was pretty slim.

  The drive from the hospital up Telegraph Avenue toward the Cal campus was slow that evening. It was Saturday night after all, and the streets were clogged with bikers and pedestrians. I tried to rein in my impatience, but I was fidgety and angry, probably because the last hour of an otherwise pleasant evening had turned sour due to my fucking homophobic behavior.

  He must think I’m the biggest ass.

  I got to my building and ran up the stairs two at a time, trying to blow off some steam. The look on Jody’s face when I pulled my hand away was stuck in my head. I got to my apartment and fumbled with the door, finally pushing it open and then slamming it shut behind me.

  The light on my answering machine was blinking so I hit the button and listened to the message while I wandered over to the fridge to pull out a beer.

  “Hey, Clark… it’s me.” Nikki’s perky voice reverberated. “Call me when you get in. I’d love to hook up.”

  No surprise there. She was my self-proclaimed stalker, following me around since I was in the eighth grade. Nikki had developed a thing for me years ago, and it continued to this day even though I told her it was going nowhere.

  She was persistent and also very convenient. Somehow she always ended up in my bed, which had people thinking we were a couple when nothing could be further from the truth. The reality was that our sexual encounters meant nothing to me. She was a means of release, someone I was comfortable with who was always available.

  Tonight I was in the mood to forget the hurt in Jody’s eyes, so I hit speed dial, and she picked up after a second. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Come over.”

  She was at my place in no time since she lived five blocks away. Nikki knocked, I pulled the door open, and yanked her up against my body, practically ripping off her clothes and carrying her to the bed. Foreplay was unnecessary because she seemed just as eager to get on with the main event. She fumbled with my fly, digging for my cock, which sprang out and bobbed for attention. She began rubbing it back and forth across her slippery cleft. “Fuck me,” she begged, sliding on the condom expertly. I closed my eyes and pushed, feeling her stretch to accommodate me. I was a big guy, and my cock was commensurate with my height and weight. Girls always looked a little nervous the first time they laid eyes on it, but Nikki was a size queen and loved every throbbing inch.

  I was on automatic, pumping in and out of her, waiting for the release I badly needed. My mind kept wandering though, the fantasy taking over, and the blond cheerleader wit
h the angelic face wasn’t beneath me anymore. It was Jody looking up at me with his chocolate-colored eyes, his mouth stretched in a seductive smile, his tongue licking my lips, murmuring “fuck me” over and over. I exploded into Nikki, our bodies shuddering at the same time and, when I was spent, I rolled off her and moved to the other side of the bed, hoping she wouldn’t do the cuddle thing, because I didn’t think I could stand it tonight, not when the only arms I wanted around me were lean and muscular and male.

  I got out of bed and padded off to the kitchen, threw the condom in the trash, and pulled a Corona out of the fridge. “You want anything to drink?”

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she called out. Of course you will. Whatever you want, dear….

  I watched her as she stretched out on my bed looking like something out of Playboy magazine. She was a knockout with her platinum blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. The quintessential California girl everyone wanted. She sat up, and the sheet fell away from her breasts, exposing the pink nipples made pinker by her recent orgasm. They were as beautiful as the rest of her, and I should have been madly in love. But I wasn’t. My heart felt dead.

  I reached for the pile of mail I’d been ignoring for days. It was the usual stuff until an envelope with the Cal logo caught my attention. It was from the registrar’s office, with a list of my grades, class standing, and units completed to date. The English class stood out as an incomplete with a note saying I needed to take it and pass before I could graduate, let alone continue to play football.

  “Fuck!”

  “What is it?” Nikki asked.

  “The English class again. It’s ruining my life.”

  “Oh, come on, Clark. It’s not that bad.”

  “Drop it, Nik. I’m not in the mood for a pep talk.”

  She got off the bed and sashayed over to where I stood, rubbing up against me like a Persian cat in heat. I was starting to get hard again, so I let her lead me back to bed for another session before we both passed out.

  By morning my mood hadn’t improved. Having a warm body in my bed should have made me feel better, but it didn’t. I got up quietly, threw on sweatpants and a T-shirt, grabbed a bottle of water, car keys, and left for my usual morning run. Hopefully Nikki would be gone by the time I got back.