Piper and Alph by Anel Viz

Piper and Alph

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1. House Guest

Neither of them was young, having reached an age which, when they were children, people used to call old. Nor was either of them beautiful. One never had been; the other had been attractive at best, not stunning, and retained only remnants of his former looks. One was gay and had always been so; the other bisexual, a serial monogamist who’d moved back and forth between same and opposite sex relationships as he fell in and out of love. Now he was in love with a man. Theirs was in theory an open relationship, though they had been exclusive partners for over five years. As for the gay man, he’d led a celibate life since before the other two even met. After breaking up with his most recent partner he had resigned himself to a non-existent love life. He missed sex, but had grown used to going without; that is, to going it alone.

Each knew the other’s real name, but I will call them Piper and Alph, the on-line names they used in their dealings with each other, a carry-over from when they’d met on line, not through a sex group, but on a kind of political blog, where they posted almost as many comments as the owner. After a few months of seeing the same name voicing their own convictions and expressing them in similar ways, they started exchanging private comments about what others said on the blog, and before long they were emailing each other on a regular basis. Alph took the first step, opening his message with “Hi. My name is ..., but you know me as Alph,” and putting both names in the signature line. Piper clicked him a reply beginning “Dear Alph”. The names stuck. Both handles came with a string of numbers after them, but they dropped those as a means of informal address. On rare occasions Piper would skip over the letters instead and call his friend 007. Since Piper’s numbers were meaningless, Alph never used them.

Piper came out to Alph right away, though he was naturally shy and knew nothing about Alph’s personal life except that he had grown children. His gayness was important to him; he thought of it as the very essence of his personality. He also knew that Alph was gay friendly and mercifully free of hang-ups about how other people got their jollies. He was surprised and happy to learn that his on-line friend was more than just gay indulgent, but also gay indulging, someone who understood and could relate to his sexuality. The more they exchanged ideas and snide remarks, the more they learned about each other’s background and how their paths had almost crossed more than once, the more compatible they discovered they were. It seemed they shared everything – interests, tastes, values, sense of humor, sexual turn-ons. In fact, there was little Piper dreamed of that Alph hadn’t tried.

Of course there were differences, but these were more a matter of circumstances than personality or ability. Alph was the more worldly of the two and more successful. He held a better paying, more respectable job (respectable, that is, in the sense of “professional” or “that confers standing in the community”), whereas Piper had never quite established himself. Curiously, Alph was probably the more lonely of the two, for Piper left his job at the office when he returned home and participated more in local civic activities. It was abundantly clear, though, that they could easily have found themselves in the other’s shoes if Fate had willed otherwise. Neither had much of an idea what the other looked like beyond what he could piece together from passing comments they sometimes made about their features, but they seemed the perfect fit in every way, Alph a versatile top who preferred to take the active role nine times out of ten, and Piper a committed bottom. Alph went so far as to write – and Piper agreed – that, had they met a quarter of a century earlier, they might well be celebrating a twenty-fifth anniversary. But they hadn’t; Fate hadn’t willed that either. Moreover, they lived over a thousand miles apart. To top it off, Piper was wretchedly available, whereas Alph had fallen head over heels in love with someone else a few years earlier and couldn’t get enough of him, a gorgeous man nearly fifteen years his junior, and together the two of them were enjoying the best sex of their lives. It takes more than love to make a relationship work, however, and despite their commitment to one another they did not have an easy time of it. Neither felt trapped, neither wanted out, but both wondered if they really did have a future together. They admitted as much to each other. Their very different personalities posed no serious problems, nor did their very different upbringing. Overall they meshed surprisingly well. On the other hand, they both carried more than enough emotional baggage to get in the way, and Alph’s lover toted a very full suitcase indeed and kept a closet full of skeletons. Fate has a cruel sense of humor, and toys with our human vulnerability with as much gusto as God showed when he zeroed in on Job.

Nor was their love life quite as satisfactory as it had been, not that sex was their only connection or that their lovemaking any less fulfilling. Circumstances had landed them in a fallow period. Without warning, Alf’s boyfriend had found himself responsible for caring for his mother through a long-drawn-out terminal illness, and on alternate weekends he had his kids, so they didn’t get to see much of each other, and their couplings had dwindled from two or three times a week to once a month or less. Sooner than spend one of his last vacations before retirement alone, Alph decided to take a trip and revisit a city he’d lived in some thirty years before. He hadn’t seen it since he’d moved away, but still had friends there. That Piper had moved there a couple of years after he left (one of the many coincidences that added up to the remarkable similarity between them) was an added incentive, if not the deciding factor. He didn’t have many close friends, and here was one he had never met in person.

He’d planned on taking a motel room for the ten days and renting a car, but Piper immediately invited him to stay with him. He had a small, one-bedroom house, but the living room sofa was six feet long and very comfortable for sleeping. There was no air-conditioning, but what the hell? – they were both part-time nudists. (As I said, they had a lot in common.) Piper rode the bus to work, so Alph would have use of his car during the day. No trouble, really. He looked forward to the company. Alph accepted on condition that he pay for their groceries, do all the cooking, and keep the tank full while he was there. He also offered to take Piper on a trip over the weekend. His treat – Piper couldn’t afford to get away often.

Of course it crossed their minds that they might end up having sex together, that Alph might never get around to trying out that sofa. A fair amount of flirtatious banter had characterized their communications with each almost from the beginning. It meant nothing, really; it was just their style. Flirting is a sexually charged exchange that implies a mutual understanding that things will go no further, the fun of it depends on its absolute safety. Until Alph hit on the idea of his vacation they took it for granted that they would never meet up. Could anything possibly be more safe? Neither was so foolhardy as to broach a subject which would have prematurely moved their relationship to a level they were not ready to commit to, nor did either of them see much point in wondering about what the other was thinking. They entertained no illusions about the reliability of cyberspace chemistry. Besides, Piper knew all about Alph’s long-term relationship. All about it. He had not held back on the details, including the most salacious. That was part and parcel of their ongoing flirtation. As for Alph, on the one hand, he didn’t know if Piper understood that their monogamy was more de facto than agreed upon, that they had made each other no promises and, in theory at least, the relationship was an open one. On the other hand, he’d told Piper about their recent frustrations, so he had to know he was horny, and it didn’t take much imagination to guess how horny Piper was. Not that Piper was his principal concern. He didn’t know himself if he wanted anything to happen, and if it did, if he would tell his partner or how his partner might react to the news. He didn’t want the relationship to end yet, and didn’t want it to end this way when it did end. What it did mean was that if they were going to have sex he would have to make the first move and that he would have to read Piper very carefully to know if it was welcome. And Piper was not the easiest person to read.

This unspoken uncertainty about just what ten days of living naked in the same small house might lead to added piquancy to their long-term flirtationship without crossing the boundary into a dangerous no-man’s-land of buried sexual explosives, but left it teasing and tottering at the brink. Maybe hot, maybe not. You got what you got. The two of them would be on their guard and tread carefully. Amazing how something so easy at a distance becomes so ticklish when you add physical proximity to the mix. In any case, that was not the point of the visit and neither of them thought it was, but Alph intended to keep all avenues open (as Piper, deprived of physical intimacy, hoped they were, though he would never have dared say so), and, wickedly, he bought an expensive edition of erotic art with beautiful colored plates as a house gift with the sole purpose of heightening the ambiguity.

He arrived in the middle of the workday and took a cab to Piper’s house. Piper had hidden a key for him. A trusting nature one might say, considering that they had never met, but the Internet is a far less risky venue than the media would have us believe, providing you use a little common sense. Alpha let himself in and saw that he’d cleared a shelf in the living room bookcase where he could put his things and left towels on the table, along with the car keys and directions to the closest supermarket in keeping with his promise not to stock up on groceries for the visit. The note also gave instructions for logging on to the computer so he could check his email. Alph unpacked, switched on the coffee machine Piper had made ready for him, and treated himself to an unguided tour of the premises.

The place was immaculate. Either Piper had gone out of his way to clean up for him or he was an anal retentive when it came to neatness. If so, that was one dissimilarity between them. Gardening was another. Alph could see that Piper put a lot of work into it.

A large part of the small living room was given over to computer equipment. There was no entertainment center, not even a television, just a good quality boom box for CDs. It also served as a dining room, and the sofa was a lot bigger than Piper had described it, which left little floor space. Despite his numerous possessions – all of them worldly – you could have fit three houses like Piper’s into the mid-sized dwelling where Alph lived alone and still have had more room. Cozy would be an understatement. Except for when Piper was at work, they would live very much on top of one another for the next ten days. No carpeting, just two area rugs and linoleum in the kitchen – real linoleum, the kind that comes in a roll. He hadn’t seen the stuff in years. Did they still make it? Probably not. Overall, the kitchen looked like something straight out of a 50’s home decorating magazine, right down to the frilly curtains, but with twice the cabinet space and a small microwave on the cramped countertop. He peeked into the back yard and realized with regret that it was not nearly private enough for nude sunbathing. He looked everywhere except in the bedroom, since the door was shut, curious though he was to see how big a bed Piper had. Well, he’d find that out soon enough.

He wondered what he ought to do next, or, rather, how to present himself when his host came home from work. This was, after all, a nudist household. He decided to shop for dinner right away and time his shower to coincide with Piper’s arrival. That way the issue would take care of itself. Or was he forcing it? No matter. He splashed some water on his face and combed his hair, then nosed about the kitchen a bit to check out the cooking utensils and what staples were on hand. He made a short list, putting wine at the top. Piper had not told him how to get to the liquor store, but he could ask. He checked his email before he left and found a “make yourself at home” message from Piper:

Welcome to my humble abode. Make yourself comfortable. You know the house rules. Feel free to make use of whatever you like, just don’t embarrass me by rifling through my magazines. And don’t go overboard on dinner. If you’re tired we always can eat out or phone for pizza. Above all, don’t make anything that needs careful timing. I may get back later than expected. – Pipe

The abbreviated signature – a typo or another flirtation? And that bit about the magazines – a joke, or did he keep them in his room? It occurred to him that the caveat about careful timing could apply just as well to his shower. No way of telling how serious he was about the house rules and getting comfortable. Anyway, skipping the shopping was not an option; he had to get the wine. He sent a quick reply:

You bastard! I’ve turned the house upside down looking for those damned magazines. What the hell am I supposed to do with myself while I wait? Now you know that I arrived safely. Hurry home. – Alph

Piper answered before he could log off:

The magazines are well hidden, the toys less so. I forgot all about them. If you run across them, do not play with them.

P.S. I always hurry home.

He ignored the tease and went out to shop.

As it turned out, Piper had been staying late at work for two weeks in order to have an extra day or two off to spend with his house guest. He had a project to finish up, and if he got it done by the weekend he’d be able to skip work Monday and Tuesday. That night he got home over two hours late. He phoned to say so while Alph was in the shower and left a message on the machine, so that ploy didn’t work, if it was a ploy. What should he wear? – a towel? nothing? clothes? He compromised by putting on shiny black nylon bathing trunks cut short and a khaki tee-shirt he’d picked up at Target with a mean-looking squirrel holding a bat on the front and the motto “Protect your nuts”. Then he stretched out on the sofa for a nap.

He must have dozed off, because he didn’t hear the key in the lock. He woke up and opened his eyes when Piper opened the door. He was dressed to match Alph, in black slacks and a khaki sports shirt, two buttons open at the collar over sparse, curly gray hairs growing on a bony chest, a tiny cross on a gold chain around his neck.

Alph immediately understood what lay behind the self-deprecating tone he assumed when describing his physique, although it was obvious he had exaggerated. He was a couple of inches below average height and so slightly built (petite, one would have said if he had been a woman) that he seemed frail, though his movements were energetic. His posture was excellent. None of his limbs could be described as fleshed out; he was clearly underweight, even for a man of his small frame. One could guess at the covered sections of his body by how his clothes hung loosely on him and how his hips held his belt in place. The seat of his trousers looked empty, which meant he had a flat ass. Still, he dressed tastefully, and one would not have called him homely. Nor did he have effeminate mannerisms, the only thing that had worried Alph.

What interests you most when you meet someone, however, is the person’s face; that is what you look at most closely. That is even true of gay men, accept at the baths. (Straight men have also been known to focus on other things in the shower room at the gym.) Piper’s round, but not unduly large head perched precariously on a slender neck, with thinning, mousy blond hair just long enough to hug his scalp. Big ears would have looked clownish on him, but his were tiny, and lay close to his head. He had a disarming smile, and his pale blue eyes sparkled behind the veil of age. He was no great beauty, to be sure, just an ordinary man of smallish stature whose appearance you would not have thought twice about if you passed him on the street, neither handsome nor unpleasant to behold nor funny-looking.

As for Alph: brown eyes, glasses, largish ears tucked beneath his hair to hide the fact, clean shaven, a square chin, a slight sagging of the healthy skin on his cheeks that accentuated the deep creases that ran from the sides of his nose to the corners of his mouth, an age spot on his high forehead, and a windblown look to his hair unless it had just been combed.

He sat up to greet his host and extended his hand. “Hi. The name’s Alph.”

They shook. Piper had not expected so firm a grip. “Piper here. Comfy?”

“You weren’t exaggerating; it’s very comfortable. I won’t mind sleeping here.”

The sofa was where he did sleep, though Piper’s bed was more than big enough for the two of them. It took up nearly the whole bedroom, and they could have both slept in it with a yard between them if each kept close to the edge, but sharing a bed would have been too close to the edge in other ways. Nor did Alph get to see him naked that night, for he closed the bathroom door when he went to take his shower, and Piper didn’t get a look either, because Alph took the cue from him and slept in his underwear, although he did realize Piper might have waiting for a cue from him. Each felt as if he was playing peek-a-boo with someone who pretended to be oblivious of the rules of the game. It couldn’t last long – their habitual innuendos were bound to kick in sooner or later. In the meantime, Alph wondered when he’d get to see his friend naked, while Piper seemed not to want, or rather, to want not to want to see him, perhaps to avoid getting turned on to something that wasn’t going to happen.

He did sleep with his bedroom door open, however, and they talked late into the night, prolonging the conversation that had begun almost as soon as he walked through the door, continued over dinner, and then moved to the couch, where they sat side by side. Sitting there, their knees brushed against each other, and the chemistry was definitely there, but the subject of sex was not something their conversation brushed on. They had plenty to talk about without it. They filled in the gaps in their autobiographies. They discussed the politics of being gay and the politics of living gay, subjects which they agreed on but saw from a different perspective, each generalizing on his own unique experience, and that brought them back to autobiography. Face to face, any flirtation seemed somehow less flirtatious, more serious. Neither wanted the other to think that he had some hidden sexual agenda lurking behind their idea of meeting up, in part because both of them did and at the same time they didn’t. Anonymity makes honesty easier, and not just with others.

They stayed up talking so long that neither could tell who fell asleep first.

Posted: 02/22/08