Finding Tim
A Fourth Alternate Reality

 by: Charlie

© 2005-2008

 

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Episode 58
Theater

Not all of the exciting events of that year took place in Washington.  One such started with a letter addressed to both Tim and me which we received in mid-January.  It didn’t have a return address, but was postmarked Columbus, Ohio.  It’s funny how one is likely to stare at an envelope trying to figure out what’s inside when all you have to do is rip it open.  Tim watched me stare at the envelope and wonder who it might be from.  Then he simply grabbed it, opened it, and started to read it out loud–he knew he would’ve been in trouble if he hadn’t shared immediately.  It read,

 

Dear Tim and Charlie,

 

I hope you remember the two of us from the train through Germany and our night in Copenhagen.  We still can’t get over that night.  And we’re still embarrassed that we didn’t recognize you right away.  We want you to know that our encounter with you two was really a life changing experience.  Well, the whole trip to Europe was, but the time with you two was special.  Thank you.

 

When we got back to Ohio we learned that the big spring musical would be The King and I.  Kelly is the costume mistress and we’re now in the midst of building the sets Philip designed.  We would love to have you come and see the play.  We live in a small apartment, but it is bigger than the train compartment  or the Copenhagen hotel room!  Please come, and please be our guests.

 

There’s no way that the rest of the student body here will be as stupid as we were in Denmark.  You’ll be recognized, and I can’t imagine that some sort of fuss won’t be made over you.  I guess that just goes with the territory.  But please believe us when we say that we’re inviting you on the basis of the fun we had before we knew who you were, and not the celebrities that you turned out to be.

 

The play runs the first two weekends in May.  You could come either weekend.  You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, but the best performance is Saturday night–we hope you can make one of the Saturdays.  If it’s the second Saturday, you could join us at the cast party.  I can’t deny that we wouldn’t love to show off our special guests in that setting!

 

Your travel companions, and more!

 

Kelly and Philip

 

“Let’s go,” was Tim’s immediate response.  It never occurred to me that it would be otherwise, and I had to agree with him: it would be fun.  We’d see a fun couple, and we could easily speculate that it might lead to an interesting evening in a “small apartment.”  And clearly Kelly and Philip wanted to show Tim off just like Tim had enjoyed showing off a Chief Justice and First Lady.  He was more than willing to cooperate.

 

The significance of the play choice was lost on neither of us, though I’m sure that neither Kelly nor Philip would’ve made the connection.  It was the source of our favorite song, “We Kiss in a Shadow,” which we’d sung together in Tim soon after his arrival in Grand Forks.  We doubted that we’d be singing it in Columbus, but we both were looking forward to hearing it from the stage.  Little did we know.

 

We responded to the letter with a telephone call and made the necessary arrangements.  Our biggest decision was how to travel: car or plane.  At just over 400 miles it would take about eight hours to drive, but flying would be quite a bit more costly.  It would also be more trouble for Kelly and Philip, as they’d have to meet us at the airport and provide all our transportation while we visited.  Having our own car would grant us independence and ease the burden on our hosts.  We decided to drive.  We would start on Friday about noon.  I would take the afternoon off of work, and Tim had nothing on Friday afternoon except his usual practice schedule which he would have to cancel.  That would allow us to get to Columbus about nine in the evening, with a stop for a decent dinner.

We put the trip out of our minds until May arrived, and then we filled in the details of our plans.  We got off on Friday about noon.  I’d walked to work.  Tim packed us a lunch to eat in the car, and he picked me up in front of the courts building precisely at 12:10.  Our planning with Kelly and Philip had included giving them permission to tell the theater group that we were coming, as well as receiving an invitation to the cast party following the Saturday night performance.  On Friday we were to come to the stage entrance of the theater when we got into town.  We watched the last of the second act from Philip’s backstage perch as assistant stage manager.  Following the play a group of seven joined Kelly, Philip, Tim and me at a local bar.  We were glad to see that no one in the group overdrank–two beers was the most that anyone had.  Kelly and Philip joined Tim and me in having Cokes.  This raised some eyebrows among their friends, and Kelly covered her real reasons with, “We want to keep Tim and Charlie company.”

 

We were items of some interest and curiosity rather than awe, which was often the response to being introduced to Tim and to some extent me.  When we talked about this later Philip had guessed that in this group people were quite uninterested in sports, and they were curious about us as celebrities more than as sports heros.  He said that the biggest question for everyone in the group was how did Philip and Kelly get two celebrities as close enough friends that they would come and see their play.  Kelly had been pretty coy and non-committal in answering that, and we chose to let her non-answer stand.  We were enjoying watching Kelly and Philip “put on the dog” as Tim had expressed it about himself. 

 

By a little after midnight Tim and I were drooping, though no one else was.  Kelly and Philip noticed, and the four of us headed home.  As we walked to our cars, Kelly remarked that all of the theater group were night people.  None of them ever scheduled classes before ten, and preferably not before noon.  No theater classes were ever taught in the morning.  This was simply the routine for people whose entire focus was on events that began between seven and eight in the evening.  Evenings were for work, nights were for play, mornings were for sleep, and afternoons were for classes–if you had to.  I was jealous;  Tim was horrified!

 

We traded partners for the ride to their apartment, and Kelly rode with me.  This was partly to make sure we didn’t get lost, and partly so that we could get to know each other better.  Kelly opened the conversation with, “Charlie, thanks for being so supportive of us back there.  You could’ve ended the mystery with a quick remark about meeting on the train, but you simply played the game.”

 

“Kelly, Tim and I are just getting to the end of a year in Washington in which we’ve been taught the social ‘game’ by a grand master.  Tim’s a master as well, and I’m trying to be a fast learner.”

 

“What social ‘game’ in Washington?”

 

“Tim, and I guess myself as well, have been the social catches of the season for Washington party givers, starting with the grand dame, Alice Roosevelt Longworth.  Last October she gave a party in our honor to introduce us.  It was the begnning of quite a year.”

 

“Alice Longworth?  She’s Teddy’s daughter, isn’t she?  How did you engineer that?”

 

“Kelly, you know the value of mystery.”

 

“OK, point for you.”

 

“I’m surprised that you’re so familiar with Alice.”

 

“You’re on a first name basis with Alice Longworth?  To her face?”

 

“Yes.  And I live in her house.”

 

“Which house?”

 

“Winston House.”

 

“My God.”

 

“How do you know so much about Alice?”

 

“Charlie, when you’re serious about the theater, angels are the staff of life.  Alice isn’t herself a theater angel, but she travels in that set.  Hell, she’s the traffic cop for people traveling in that set.  If you want to rattle cages at the cast party tomorrow night, forget about Olympic medals, drop some of the names from Washington, especially Alice’s.”

 

“You’re kidding.  I can’t believe Washington names would mean a thing in Columbus, Ohio.”

 

“I’m not kidding.  And those names would be meaningless most places in Columbus, but not among a bunch of serious theatre majors.  And the kids here are very serious.  They hope to make their careers in New York.  And the technical people, designers and the lot, are more involved in the financial side than the actors.  Oh, man.  I’m freaked out.”

 

This was followed by some silence and then I opened a new subject.  “How we got to know you wasn’t the only mystery tonight.  I can’t believe you weren’t drinking because of us, but evidently not drinking isn’t the norm for Kelly and Philip.  What gives?”

 

“Charlie, you’re smart.  Think about it.  But you’re right, both of us would have had a beer or two on a normal night, perhaps Scotch.”

 

“I have my suspicions.  A number of our friends avoid alcohol before they get into sexual situations.”

 

“You’re smart, just as I thought.  Were we wasting Coke back there?”

 

“I don’t think so.  Oh, Hell, I know you weren’t.  Signing your letter, ‘Your travel companions, and more!’ didn’t exactly create a mystery.  Tim and I wouldn’t have come if we were going to say ‘No’ at this stage.  It wouldn’t have been fair to you.”

 

“Charlie, I’m nervous.  In Copenhagen you were just two graduate students riding the train.  One thing sort of led to another.  It was fun.  Now that we know who you are, I think we’re going to be inhibited.”

 

“Considering your lack of inhibitions last time, maybe that’s a good thing.”

 

“Charlie, we were green as grass.  Philip hardly knew how to fuck me.  Gay sex hadn’t even been imagined.”

 

“You were fast learners.  You didn’t have gay sex.  Philip amazed us with how willing he was to experiment.”

 

“He amazed me.  Shit, Charlie, he amazed himself.  We didn’t know what we were getting into, but it turned out to be fun.  More than fun, we learned more about ourselves in a day than we might have in a lifetime if we hadn’t met you two.  We owe you a big one.”

 

Later I learned that the conversation in the other car had been about the same, except that Alice and the Washington social scene had not been discussed.

 

As soon as we got in the door at their little apartment Kelly went over to Philip, kissed him, and asked, “Do you know who these two are on a first name basis with in Washington, D.C.?”

 

“Dick Nixon?”

 

“Better.”

 

“Lyndon Johnson?”

 

“Better.”

 

I simply couldn’t resist.  Well, readers, could you have?  I doubt it.  I interrupted with, “Well, we aren’t on a first name basis with Lyndon Johnson, but we are going to be the guests of Lyndon and Lady Bird Johnson at their ranch on the Pedernales in two weeks.”

 

That did it.  Kelly looked at me as if I had just announced that an atom bomb was set to go off in their living room in two minutes.  Philip, without the background of the Alice Longworth story just stood and sort of stared at everyone in the room.  Tim got the drift of what was going on, having already guessed that Kelly’s ‘better’ probably referred to Alice and not the Chief Justice.  He continued the attack, “President Johnson has promised a barbeque to beat all barbeques for us and a few of our intimate friends.  I think there will be about twenty-five of us.”

 

Kelly and Philip remained speechless.  I said, “Why don’t we all sit down, and we’ll tell you of the perks of winning Olympic gold medals.  I think you theater folks undervalue athletic prowess.”

 

Kelly said, “I’d say that I needed a beer, except that I still have hopes about where this evening is heading.  What about you, Philip?”

 

“I’d be glad for a little explanation.  I think a beer would get in the way of my figuring out just what the Hell is going on.”

 

Tim had begun to chuckle as he figured things out, and now he was laughing out loud.  “Charlie, you have to start at the beginning.”

 

I did.  As quickly as possible–it was now one in the morning–I told the story of our Washington adventures.  Philip and Kelly were enthralled.  The narrator role passed back and forth between Tim and me, and the storytelling continued about forty minutes.

 

Kelly responded with, “And you’re still willing to have sex tonight with us two little nobodies?”

 

“Hey, folks,” said Tim, “You aren’t nobodies if you are the top of the heap in one of the best theatre programs in the country–one that trains a lot of theater professionals.   Together you did set and costume design and implementation for the big show of the year on one of the biggest campuses around.  In a few years we’ll be dropping your names among friends we know who go to the theater.”

 

“Well, you’re being very kind,” said Philip, “but we all know that’s bullshit.  But it’s wonderful bullshit.  Keep spreading it around.”

 

I said, “I know the time; I know it isn’t late for you two; it’s late for us; and I know all four of us have some expectations before this night’s over.  I think we should start spreading some clothes around the floor of this apartment.”

 

We did.  And then we headed for the bedroom, where there was a queen size bed.  Kelly spoke first, “Listen.  We know your rule about fucking other boys, and we respect that.  We have no rules.  Hell, we haven’t needed rules like that, the only people we’ve ever had sex with are each other and you two.  We’re still very inhibited.  But I want to be fucked by both of you.  It’s OK with Philip, and I’m on the pill so you have no worries.

 

She got her wish.  Obviously Tim and I weren’t particularly experienced in the various positions of heterosexual intercourse, but we were game to try.  We figured that we needed to encourage Philip and Kelly to try new things, and that meant pushing in that direction. 

 

I need to digress a moment, especially for my younger readers.  Today if I wanted information about a variety of positions for sexual intercourse I would have numerous options.  As an experiment I just went onto the internet.  Since I’m writing this on a computer, going onto the internet was a matter of  a very few keystrokes.  I Googled “intercourse positions.”  In less than a minute I was viewing a web page that listed about twenty different positions, with instructions and color photographs.  I could go to a bookstore and buy any number of books that provided the same information–with photographs, stick figure illustrations, artists sketches, or just text–whatever struck my fancy.  That is the world that we have grown accustomed  to.  We forget, and younger folks can’t imagine, that this open world is the product of the last quarter-century, and that those of us now over fifty grew up in an entirely different world.

 

In any case, I went looking for advice on sexual positions.  The Joy of Sex–one of the first really useful guides to sex for couples–was four years away from publication.  Bookstores had books with all kinds of liberated suggestions that sex was good, that masturbation wouldn’t hurt you, that pre-marital sex either wasn’t (or was) a terrible sin; and certainly some serious unanimity that all of this would be much better if you would wait until you had found your one true love, and preferably married him or her.  Details were non-existent.

 

There was a black market.  After all, hormones cannot be completely stifled.  There were porno shops, and they did sell books that ranged from poor to awful to completely dangerous they were so misleading.  But a friend of Tim’s at school had a “sex manual” he’d bought in an adult bookstore in New Orleans at Mardi Gras.  Tim borrowed it.  It was raunchy, adolescent, terribly  printed, illustrated with grainy black and white photos, and very helpful.  It actually did discuss a variety of ways to fuck a girl–it was never thought of as a mutual act, but as something that a boy did to a girl.  Clearly the readers of this book were almost completely male.  I would like to think they were mostly teenagers, but since the lack of good information was almost as complete for adults as it was for teens, I suspect that many a married man, or sexually active single man, had sought guidance from this “sex manual.”  Clearly this copy was sufficiently weatherbeaten that it was clear that a good many college students had been educated from it.

 

With my storehouse of advanced hetrosexual advice, I sat Kelly down in an armchair, and slid her forward till her buns were just holding her on the seat.  I knelt on the floor in front of her and entered her with some pride in the “armchair” position, so graphically described in the “manual.”  My God, it worked!  We had a ball.  With my arms held on the back of the chair and my knees on the floor I could easily control my penetration.  We could kiss as we fucked, and Kelly responded gloriously to my tongue.  Clearly that was something that she and Philip hadn’t missed–her tongue wasn’t a neophyte.  I came ahead of her, and before I knew it Tim had her on the floor and was entering her doggie style.  She came very quickly, and immediately lay flat causing his penis to withdraw.  She said, “Philip’s going to finish you, one way or another. 

 

It was immediately clear that Philip was turned off of the idea of sucking a penis that had just been withdrawn from a vagina.  So I sucked Tim, cleaning him up, and Philip reluctantly followed.  Tim slowed himself down as much as he could, but it wasn’t long before Philip had a mouth full of cum.  We slept well that night, four in a bed, each with his own partner.  

 

Tim had met both the diving and gymnastics coaches at Ohio State, and hoped that he would be able to at least say “Hello” while on campus.  He had telephoned both and received not only a time to meet, but an invitation–really a request–that he work out with whichever members of the teams could, or would, be available on Saturday.  We were set up for diving in the morning, lunch with both coaches, and gymnastics in the afternoon.  With the final play performance coming Saturday evening, Kelly and Philip were, I think, glad not to have to entertain us on Saturday.  We would meet them at the theater about 5:00–and if we didn’t want a very hurried dinner, we were supposed to eat before we came.  We were assured that there would be more food at the party afterwards–at which we were expected.

 

There were about a half a dozen Ohio State divers in the pool when we arrived about 9:30 that morning.  Three of them had competed with Tim at one meet or another in the previous year or so.  Tim recognized them and walked up and greeted them by name.  I had no idea how he pulled those names out of the back of his head, but you can be sure that it made three people’s day to be recognized by the reigning Olympic champion and the biggest name in diving in years.  They introduced the other three divers, and then the coach came in.  He was recognized as well.  I was introduced to the seven of them.  We stood around and talked for a while, until Tim said, “I came over here to dive.  Let’s head for the platform.”

 

They did.  They insisted that Tim show off a little, but he soon got them diving.  It never ceased to amaze me how he seemed to bring out the best in the men he dived with.  Their coach stood at the side of the pool with me, and constantly made comments like, “I’ve never seem him get that right.” or “That’s a personal best.”  Tim was free with compliments, and always made little tiny suggestions for improvement.  And he demonstrated his points with ease.

 

At a break one of the Ohio State divers asked Tim, “Where did you get that suit.  It hardly covers anything.  I’ve never seen that tiny a Speedo.”

 

“I’m still an amateur; Speedo can’t pay me.  But they do give me suits, and these were custom made to my specifications.  They really are legal, even in Utah.  I love them.  So does Charlie.”

 

He was right, of course, but I could hardly believe he was saying that in front of virtual strangers.  Of course, I immediately had six divers looking at me and sizing me up.  One said, “Charlie, I’ll bet you couldn’t wear this suit.”

 

Tim said, “It almost fits him around the waist, but you’re right; he couldn’t wear this suit.”

 

Other than turning red in the face, how was I supposed to respond to that?  Silence seemed best.

 

Then they were back diving.  A few of the gymnasts that he was going to work out with in the afternoon walked in and watched a while.  Then we were all off to lunch.

 

One of the gymnasts had been on the Olympic team with Tim, and one had been on the German Olympic team; he’d been born in Germany but lived there only until he was four.  I think that, along with their coach, they were the only three present that had seen Tim perform.  They were particularly interested in the three events in which he excelled and in which he had made such a spectacular reputation. 

 

They started by urging him onto the high bar.  Tim had long since given up any pretense of not being a showoff.  He sailed right into the most spectacular routine you can imagine.  With no scoring or competition rules limiting the scope of his routine, he really let go.  Even I had never seen him be quite that spectacular.  His time practicing at the University of Maryland had clearly not been wasted.  His Ohio audience was stupefied.  This was followed by many questions about hugging the line in his floor exercise.  He showed off some more, With nothing to lose from a miss, he could hug the line even closer than in real competition.  He admitted later that he had been over once, but for the most part his distance from the line was unmeasurable.

 

Then he sort of signaled to me to stand in front of the rings.  I took my shirt off, as I knew exactly what Tim wanted, and I knew that my being shirtless would help.  He was soon up on the rings, doing a normal routine.  Normal until he got to his T hold.  And he held it, and held it, and held it.  I had seen him exceed forty seconds, but this was more.  While all eyes were on Tim, I wiggled my ass a little, and I got a little nod of thanks.  At 63 seconds he very slowly pulled himself up out of the T and finished the routine as if there had never been a pause.  The coach was absolutely flabbergasted, as were all of the Ohio gymnasts.  Tim never tried to keep secrets. He recited the conversation that he had had with Frank, and then pointed to me and my bare torso.  He said, “If he’d taken off his pants I might have made two minutes.”

 

“Tim!”

 

It was soon time to head to the theater and see what was going on there.  Everybody was sitting around in the first several rows of the orchestra seating, chatting, and nibbling on snacks.  It appeared they were waiting for us.  A young man that we both recognized stood and walked over to us saying “Hi, Tim and Charlie, remember me?”

 

We did.  He was Justin Myers, a member of Tim’s graduating class at UND.  He had been a theater major, and evidently was continuing his studies at Ohio State.  We greeted him, and between Justin, Philip, and Kelly we were introduced to the whole cast and crew–some of which we’d met the night before.

A young woman from the cast–she played one of the ladies in waiting–spoke up, “Tim, Charlie.  Justin has been telling us a little about you, and we have an idea.”

 

I said, “What’s that?”

 

“We’d like to introduce you both before the performance–like we would any celebrities that we knew about.  Last week we introduced the Governor who was in the audience.”

 

“OK.”

 

“Then after the main curtain call, we’d like to invite you two up to sing ‘We Kiss in a Shadow’; we think it’ll be quite a sensation.”

 

Tim said, “We didn’t come here to show off, or to detract from your show.  We don’t mind being introduced before the show, but the curtain call should be for you all.”

 

“Nonsense.  It’ll be sensational.  Great publicity for the theater department.  You know, we never quite fill our houses, so all publicity helps.”

 

I said, “If you’re sure.  When will the orchestra be here so we can try a run through?”

 

“Some of them are already here.  The director will be here shortly, they do quite a warm up before we have to clear the house to let the audience in.”

 

And, in fact, it wasn’t long before we were on the stage and the orchestra was playing for:

 

           We kiss in a shadow,

          We hide from the moon,

          Our meetings are few,

          And over too soon.

 

          We speak in a whisper,

           Afraid to be heard–

          When people are near

          We speak not a word!

 

           Alone in our secret,

           Together we sigh

          For one smiling day to be free

 

          To kiss in the sunlight

          And say to the sky:

           “Behold and believe what you see!

           Behold how my lover loves me!” 

 

          [The King and I, Rodgers and Hammerstein]

 

Before it was finished, we had kissed three times, exactly as we’d done before.  The last was, of course, a most spectacular kiss.  From the orchestra seats came the voice of the director, and Chairman of the Theater Department.  “Guys, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to leave out the kisses.  It won’t fly in Columbus, Ohio.”

 

Tim said, “I’m not sure I agree with you, but it’s your theater.  However, we don’t sing this song without kissing.  So just introduce us before the show and we won’t be part of the curtain call.”

 

There was loud disappointment from the cast, but the director stood firm.  He wasn’t going to risk his theater program for a gay kiss, especially one that he couldn’t justify on artistic merit.  He said, “Listen, gang.  When we have a gay kiss on this stage we want it to be part of a production that requires it.  That’ll come.  But this would be seen as an ‘in your face’ gesture and could hurt us.”

 

So, we were introduced before the show, got loud applause, and then settled in to see the show.   It was the first time either of us had seen The King and I staged, so it was the first time that we had seen our song sung in context to the slave Tuptim by her forbidden lover Lun Tha.  We loved it.

 

At the intermission we could hardly get to the drink table for all of the programs we were asked to autograph.  It fact, we never did make it to the table, as Cokes were thrust into our hands along with programs and pens.  We stopped signing when the lights blinked, and we headed back to our seats  for the second act.

 

At the final curtain, the entire cast gathered on stage for curtain calls, followed by the typical student theater practice of thanking the faculty director and orchestra director, and saying goodbye to the senior leads for whom this was the last show.  That group included Kelly and Philip, whose sets and costumes were recognized and cheered.  And then it was over.  The cast was ready to leave to the tune of “Getting to Know You,” when there was a shout from the audience: “Tim.”  Then a chant, “Tim.  Tim.  Tim.  Charlie.  Charlie.  Charlie.”  We weren’t sure what to do, but the director was on the stage, looking at the crowd, and evidently decided it would be wise to give the audience what it wanted.  He waved us up.  From the stage we waved to the audience, but the chant changed to “Kiss.  Kiss.  Kiss.”

 

With that the orchestra director called the orchestra together, and whispered “Shadow” for them to get out their music.  I noticed that no one had to change their music!  The music started; we sang; we kissed; the audience cheered.  We sang more; the audience cheered more; we kissed a second and third time.  I wasn’t sure exactly how to end it.  The director, whom I was afraid would be angry at the course of events, called for quiet.  He spoke, “Many of you have read about the Stonewall Riots in New York last June.  We can do better than that here in Ohio.  There’s another appropriate song from this show which the cast is going to sing.  Tim, Charlie, and all of you may join in.  The orchestra played “Getting to Know You, Getting to Know All About You....” and, indeed, everybody did join in.  Following the song the curtain closed and the show was over.  It was amazing how fast they could shut the place down, get out of their costumes, and head for their party in a hall off-campus (where alcohol was legal–at least if you were 21).  Everybody walked from the theater, which suggested that while they might have quite a few drunks, they would not likely end up with drunk drivers.

 

As soon as we were at the party Professor Dradon, who had been the one that originally banned the kissing, came over and spoke.  “I hope you weren’t too offended by my ruling that you couldn’t kiss on stage.”

 

I said, “You seemed to change your mind.”

 

“We had a potential riot on our hands.  It seems that a number of students who heard of the ban got word around the campus.  The house was sold out by curtain time, all to people who expected to make an issue of whether you two could kiss on stage.  It could’ve been a volatile situation.  That’s why I invited you on stage.  If I get criticized for the kiss, my excuse is ironclad: ‘Would you rather have had a riot?  Perhaps like Stonewall in New York?’”

 

He went on, “You know, the theater’s full of gay men and women; this theater and most others.  Before long, especially after Stonewall and its aftermath, gay relationships will be acceptable on stage. I’m looking forward to that.  I’m not sure that your kiss tonight was the best way to introduce it at Ohio State, but perhaps it was.  But I’m serious, I think we could’ve had a nasty situation tonight if you two hadn’t come on stage.  If I thought either of you, or Kelly or Philip were the ones responsible for that crowd, I’d be very upset.  But I have my suspicions, heck, I’m pretty sure who spread the word, and it wasn’t any of you.”

 

Our conversation continued, “Now that that’s all behind us, it’s really neat to meet the most out gay couple in the country–cover stories on Sports Illustrated and Time, even a little picture of you two kissing on the cover of SI.  Nobody can claim a higher degree of being ‘out.’  How does it feel?”

 

“We never think of it in those terms.  I love Tim; he loves me.  Most people seem willing to accept us on those terms.  Those that don’t just have to deal.  Thus far it hasn’t been a serious problem.  For a while we thought you might be a problem, but we understand where you were coming from.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“How did you two meet Philip and Kelly?”

 

I said, “Kelly likes that to be her little bit of mystery.  Let’s just say we’re good friends.”

 

“I notice you said ‘good friends’ and not ‘old friends’.” 

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

“OK, I won’t pursue that.  How did you like the show?”

 

“We loved it.  We’ve sung ‘To Kiss in a Shadow’ but never seen it in context.  I like the gay subtext better, but the show was great.”

 

I’m ashamed of myself for the next line, but Kelly was absolutely dying to have me do it.  Over at the side a group was dancing to a record player, and the voice of Chubby Checker came on.  I turned to Tim, and in a voice selected so that it would be heard, I said, “That’s Chubby.  We haven’t danced the twist since we were with him in Washington.”

 

Tim got the message immediately and responded, “That was at Alice’s, wasn’t it.”

 

Kelly was nearby and was ready with, “Alice who?”

 

Tim was also ready, “Longworth.  She’s quite the hostess.  She invited Chubby because she knows we like to twist.”

 

With that he took my hand and pulled me over to where folks were dancing to Chubby Checker’s music.  And we did the twist again.  We could hardly hear the music over the murmurs going through the crowd about Alice Longworth.  Kelly had been right; it was a well-known name in this crowd.  When the music ended the questions started.  “How do you know Alice Longworth?”  “How long?”  “Tell us about her.”  “Did she dance the twist?”  “You met Chubby Checker?”  We did have to admit that while we were on a first name basis with Alice, it was stretching a point to suggest we were with Chubby Checker.  But that admission simply solidified our claim to Alice, which was, in fact, true. 

 

Halversham’s got mentioned.   None of the students picked up on that name, but Professor Dradon did.  “You’ve been to Halversham’s?”

 

“Yes.  We had a dinner there this spring for our families.”

 

“At Halversham’s?  You’re on his A-list?”

 

“I guess we’re on his list.  I think he only has one.  Either you get to make a reservation or you don’t.”

 

“And you can?”

 

“Yes.  He urges us to come by for lunch, but Tim’s school is too far away to come in town for lunch very often.”

 

It was too much for Dradon.  “I don’t believe it.  I have good friends in Washington that have been trying to get into Halversham’s for years.  He’s a Senate committee counsel.  Not high enough in the pecking order.”

 

“We’d be glad to take him there for lunch some day.  Tell us his name.”

 

“Bill Pederson.  Senate Agriculture Committee.”

 

“We’ll look him up.”

 

“I don’t know why it’s important to him, but he would die for an invitation to Halversham’s.”

 

Kelly was right.  In this crowd Olympic medals were passé; knowing the right people was everything.  I’ll have to admit we were shameless about dropping names that night.

 

So was Kelly.  “Professor Dradon, you have to ask who was at the dinner at Halversham’s.”

 

“I’ll bite.  They said their parents.  Who else?”

 

Kelly answered for us, thank goodness.  “Chief Justice and Mrs. Clark, and Judge and Mrs. Sherman Wilcox of the D.C. Circuit.”

 

I spoke up, “I clerk for Sherm.”  Oops, I’ll never know how accidental the use of the first name was, but it was picked up.

 

“Sherm?”

 

“Sherm in private, Judge Wilcox in public.”

 

“I didn’t think that kind of familiarity was common in Washington.”

 

“It isn’t.  But Sherm is quite exceptional.  So is Thelma.”

 

“Thelma?”

 

“Sherm’s wife.”   I was digging myself in deeper.  Tim got to giggling.  Then I did, followed by Kelly, Philip, and then the Professor.

 

Dradon said, “I guess that I’d better introduce myself.  Please call me Simon.  It appears that I should be proud to be on your first name list.”

 

“Glad to meet you, Simon.  I’d invite you to call me Charlie and this little kid Tim, but there isn’t anything else to call us.”

 

One of the lead actors in the play had been listening.  When he had a chance he asked his own question, “I guess you guys travel quite a bit, with diving, gymnastics and archery meets?”

 

Tim said, “Not much. I no longer compete in diving, and we’ve pretty much limited our competitions to the Mid-Atlantic region this year.  The most we’ve traveled this year has been this May, with this trip to Ohio and the Texas trip at the end of the month.”  I’ll never know whether Tim planned to say that or if it just slipped out.  Tim has steadfastly refused to answer. 

 

It did get the only response possible, “What’s taking you to Texas?”

 

Tim looked at me, realized the situation, and grinned, saying, “I’ll  let you answer that, he’s your friend.”

 

“Who?” said two or three people.

 

“Can we leave it a mystery?”

 

“No,” said Kelly. 

“Lyndon Johnson.”

 

“What about Lyndon Johnson,” asked someone.

 

“He’s the ‘Who?’”

 

“Johnson?”

 

Tim cut in with, “We and a bunch of our close friends are invited to his ranch for the weekend.”

 

One of the stage hands ended the conversation with, “And I thought I had something to brag about when I met Stan Musial once at his restaurant in St. Louis.”

 

Tim got a good laugh with, “Oh, you know Stan? [long pause]  Well, I never met him.  Neither has Charlie.”

 

When we got back to their apartment, Kelly and Philip were simply glowing.  Philip said, “We’ve always been pretty popular with our group, but after tonight we’re simply going to be heros.  I thought Dradon was going to pee his pants when you mentioned Hammersmith’s or whatever the name is.”

 

“It obviously is as meaningful to you as it was to us before Alice took us there–that is, meaningless.  However, it’s quite a place; very interesting; very old money; but, amazingly, not stuffy.”

 

Tim said, “Tell you what.  Come visit us.  Get the Dradons to come along–I presume he’s married.  We’ll take you to Halversham’s, along with his friend from the Senate.”

 

That was tentatively arranged as we headed for bed.  We were knocked down a peg or two when we were asked if our celebrity name-dropping extended to the bedroom.  “Have you slept with any Senators?  Sucked any judges?  Screwed Alice Longworth?”

 

We had to admit that Chrissy was the extent of our Washington sexual adventures.  Philip said, “Hell, you’ve done better in Ohio.  Shall we get on with it?”

 

“Just what did you want to get on with?”

 

Kelly said, “This may well be Philip’s last chance to experience gay sex.  Our gay theater friends have never even hinted that they’d be interested in sex with a straight couple.  Philip, it’s now or never.”

 

Philip said, “I’m game.”

 

By this time we were in the bedroom and Tim was naked on the bed.  I guided Philip in arousing Tim with his fingers, tongue, and dick.  Tim came all over Phil’s hands and his own belly.  Tim pulled Philip down on him, and got cum all over him.  I’m not sure why, but Tim and I were always aroused by making a mess out of cum.  Tim said, “OK, you two.  69.”

 

Philip started to clean himself up, but Tim wouldn’t allow it.  “69.  Right now.  Charlie on top.”

 

Once we got into position, Philip was pinned.  My weight was on my knees, but he couldn’t get my dick out of his mouth without a struggle.  He didn’t try, accepting it, and playing with his tongue–taking his cue from what I was doing to him.  He gagged a little as I came, and soon after came for me.  I wiggled around so we could kiss, and we shared the cum.  At that point, Tim said, “Kiss Kelly.  She’s hungry.”

 

I pushed Philip toward her mouth and I moved toward her vagina.  We both kissed her and left our loads behind, however much was left.  Tim pushed me out of the way, stroked her clitoris with his tongue, and helped her to a super orgasm. 

 

It was now four in the morning–almost our get up time–and we all fell in a heap on the bed, pulled up a sheet, and went to sleep.  We slept too late in the morning to repeat our orgy.  Tim and I had a late breakfast and we were on our way back to Washington.  It looked to us like Philip and Kelly were going to be headed back to dreamland as soon as we were gone!

 

The trip to Texas came and went, but that is another story.  In early June Kelly and Philip, along with the Dradons, visited us at Winston House.  The Dradons slept in the guest room upstairs, and Kelly and Philip at least pretended to sleep on the floor mattress in the room next door.  They came down to our room to use the bathroom, and you can at guess the rest. [You would be right!]

 

Immediately on our return to Washington we had gone to Halversham’s for lunch.  We told him the story (well part of the story) of the cast party, and the comment from Professor Dradon.  “Would it be all right if we invite them all to a dinner here?” we asked.

 

“Wonderful, said Mr. Halversham.  Let me find out who Mr. Pederson is.  We’ll do our best by him.”

 

Dradon invited Bill and Maria Pederson to have dinner with him and his wife, two students from Ohio, and their hosts in Washington, Tim and Charlie.  Bill Pederson had recognized our names.  “You mean as in the gymnast and his partner.  Olympic athletes.  SI covers.  All that.  That Tim and Charlie?”

 

Simon Dradon chuckled as he described the telephone conversation to us.  “That Tim and Charlie.”

 

“How do you know them?  You’re their house guests?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Simon told us, “I’ll have to admit that I didn’t tell him that it was really Philip and Kelly that knew you, and that we were just supernumeraries.  And I didn’t tell him where we were eating, though he asked.”

 

The big dinner was the next night.  The Pedersons had been invited to come to our house for conversation, and then we’d walk to dinner.  The Pedersons didn’t associate the house with Alice, but they knew any house in this area was special; they were duly impressed.  The did seem to be very nice people, not consumed with themselves nor with name-dropping.  It was fun to watch them try to figure out just how their friends from Ohio had “made it” in Washington without ever even coming to Washington.  They were soon to be in for an even bigger surprise.

 

I asked Bill if he knew Warren Cramer; I had had to call Alice on the phone to confirm Warren’s last name–he was always just Warren, like we were Tim and Charlie.  Bill did remember him.  “Do you know him?  What’s he doing now?”

 

“Warren’s a good friend.  He manages the affairs of Alice Roosevelt Longworth.  We met him through Mrs. Longworth; he’s been most helpful to us in learning our way around Washington.”  I should note that it is OK to drop Alice’s first name in Columbus, Ohio, but dropping a first name like that in Washington is “not done.”

 

We learned that Warren had been a well-respected member of a Senator’s staff, but was gone with the election!  That’s life in Washington.  Elected officials must, inevitably, come and go.  Unless you were in the circle that met him at Alice’s parties, you didn’t run into Warren; clearly Bill Pederson was not.

 

Bill’s problem was that he dreamed of being what he wasn’t.  In his role as a Senate committee counsel he worked daily with the elite of Washington.  Most people in that situation simply went home at the end of the day and lived their own lives.   Bill went home to his wife, Maria, and together they dreamed of being what they were not.  It was hard for Tim and me to comprehend this, as we’d fallen into our present roles without even trying.  Well, that’s not true.  We, especially Tim, but me as well, had worked our butts off both in athletics and in scholastics to get where we’d gotten.  But we hadn’t expended an iota of energy in trying to break into the elite social circles of Washington.  It had just happened; most of it the responsibility of Thelma’s introduction to Alice.

 

I’m probably overstating Bill’s preoccupation with social status.  He and Maria clearly did have a good life, with two teenagers that they were proud of–just with a few dreams that they were going to have a hard time making come true.  Until tonight!

 

I said, “It’s a lovely night.  Let’s walk to the restaurant.  It took about fifteen minutes, and nothing was said about where we were going; Tim and I just led the way.  I’m not even sure that Bill and Maria even knew where Halversham’s was.  We were at the door before they realized where they were, and then they weren’t certain.  There was only the little brass plate.  No sign; no menu outside; not even the word restaurant.

 

Bill screwed up his nerve and asked, “Is this the Halversham’s?”

 

I said, “As far as I know there’s only one.  Let’s go in.”

 

Mr. Halversham was ready for us.  “Mr. Tim; Mr. Charlie.  It’s so nice of you to join us this evening.  This must be the Dradons and the Pedersons.  Welcome.  And you two would be Professor Dradon’s students from Ohio, am I correct?  I’m sorry I don’t know your names.”

 

None of the group was ready for that performance.  Kelly and Philip introduced themselves and were welcomed to Halversham’s.  Then Mr. Halversham turned to me, “Mr. Charlie, I know that you perfer not to sit at the bar, so we have a table for eight set up.”  The bartender appeared with Cokes for Tim and me, and asked the others what they would like to drink.  This was not the normal routine at Halversham’s.  We always ordered our Cokes, and sometimes actually had something else.  But Halversham was the master of the moment, and had, I’m sure, primed the bartender to serve us as he did, making it absolutly clear that we were “regulars.” 

 

Bill and Maria were totally flabbergasted.  They managed to order wine, and the Dradon’s ordered ginger ale.  The Dradons had, of course, known what was coming–though they had no idea of what Halversham’s was like.  They were totally enjoying watching Bill and Maria soak up being at Halversham’s.  So were Tim and I.  Philip and Kelly ordered white wine, and asked the bartender to select for them–a wise move.  Somehow the two of them seemed more relaxed in this setting that the other couples.

 

In a few minutes Senator and Mrs. Goldwater were escorted in by Mr. Halversham.  They sat at the bar, ordered drinks, and then looked around the room.  As soon as Goldwater spied us, he said something to his wife, Peggy, and they got up and came over to the table.  Goldwater said, “Charlie, Tim.  It’s good to see you.”  Then he looked at Bill and said, “Bill, I haven’t seen you for a while.  I don’t think you’ve met my wife Peggy.  Peggy, Bill Pederson, from the staff of the Agriculture Committee.”

 

Bill introduced Maria, and I introduced the others.  By then two additional chairs had materialized and the Goldwaters were seated with us.  Goldwater kept the conversation fast paced and interesting.  He had opinions about almost everything and wasn’t afraid to share them.  Some were outrageous and some quite sensible.  His willingness to accept Tim and me as a couple foreshadowed his later public positions in support of gay rights.

 

Mr. Halversham came to the table and whispered in the Senator’s ear, got an answer and came over to me.  “Shall I set a table for ten in the dining room?”  Clearly that had been the subject of the quiet exchange with Goldwater, and I indicated that I thought that would be nice.  The Senator indicated agreement. 

 

We’d arrived about 7:10 for the 8:00 o’clock sitting.  That gave us plenty of time for drinks.  Almost exactly at 8:00 we were shown into the dining room, where the table for ten had been set dead center in the room.  There were a few other big names in the room (none that we knew except by reputation) but clearly we were center stage.  Bill and Maria didn’t miss the implications, nor did Kelly and Philip.  I think the Dradons did.  Tim and I, I’ll have to admit, were used to it.

 

Conversation at dinner, led by Senator Goldwater, focused on theater, at Ohio State, New York, and elsewhere.  We finally got the question that I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer.  It came, innocently, from Simon, “Do you two attend the theater much?”

 

“Some.”  From Tim.

 

“Have you been in New York?”

 

“Just once, off-Broadway.”  From me.

 

“What play?”

 

“Oh! Calcutta.”  From me.  I would say that I said it hesitantly, except that I tried very hard to be matter of fact, even though I was mentally quite hesitant.”

 

The Pedersons seemed a little startled.  The Dradons were immediately curious.  Peggy Goldwater saved the day with, “I wish I had had enough nerve to go see that show.  So does the Senator.  But that, I’m afraid, is life in the electoral fish bowl.  Did they really have intercourse on stage?”

 

Tim said, “It’s hard to say.  That was the impression they wanted to portray, but I don’t think it really happened.”

 

Kelly spoke up, “I know a member of the cast.  The idea is to actually ‘do it’ on the stage, but most performances they don’t actually pull it off.”

 

That was as risque as the conversation got that evening.  It moved back to the Olympics, and even touched on the 1964 election in which Goldwater got creamed (his word).  By 8:55 the mints were on the table and we were on our way.  At the door Mr. Halversham greeted us, thanked Tim and me for bringing our friends.  Then he said to Bill Pederson, “Mr. Pederson, we’ve never had the pleasure of your company before.  Please come back again.”

 

Bill was just able to stammer, “It’ll be a pleasure.”

 

As we walked home Simon said, “You never got a bill; never paid a bill.  What does a meal like that cost in Washington?”

 

OK, I’ll admit it was a little rude.  But Simon, despite his theater sophistication, was still a small town kid for whom Columbus was the big city.  He was genuinely curious about a restaurant with no prices, no bill, and no payment.  Tim and I weren’t upset by his question.  The trouble is that the answer was, “We haven’t the slightest idea.  At the end of the month we’ll get a totally unitemized bill that seems to bear no relationship to our use of the restaurant.  I think it’s totally socialistic: you’re billed what you can afford to pay.  I understand that if you’re eating there more often than Halversham thinks is appropriate, he will simply be too full to accommodate you.”

 

That was Tim; I said, “You know, Bill, that little invitation at the door was your signal that you can call and make your own reservations.  Don’t hesitate, but don’t overdo.  And wait at least three weeks before you make the first call.  Then take your cues from Halversham.  He’ll give pretty clear signals about when and how often you should return.”

 

Back at Winston House the Pedersons were....  Well, I’m not sure how to describe them.  They were outwardly calm, but it was clear that their minds were racing, and probably also their hearts.  They were profuse with their thanks to both us and the Dradons.  Tim and I were invited to dinner at their house in Bethesda, and a meal was scheduled for a Friday in July.  It never happened.  Tim and I had to make a rush trip back to the Midwest and had to cancel at the last minute.  The dinner never got rescheduled.

 

We did hear from Mr. Halversham that the Pedersons did invite small groups of friends to eat there from time to time.  They didn’t abuse the privilege.  Halversham was delighted to know that people were that eager to eat at his establishment!  As if this was news to him.

To be continued...

 

Posted: 07/11/08