The Reluctant Mentor
By: Morris Henderson
(© 2009-2010 by the author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 8
 

After Todd’s visit on Thursday in which he related his conversation with the school’s guidance counselor, Rick was both pleased and disappointed.  He was glad that Todd had benefited from the counselor’s advice and was much more comfortable being an outsider at school.  But he was sorry that he had done -- or could do -- nothing more to help the young man.  Robbed of that purpose in his otherwise lonely life, he wondered what to do.

He decided that the quickest way to dispel his emptiness would be to walk over to the Club House and work out in the Cardio Room.  He changed into his sweat pants, a tee shirt, and sneakers.  Leaving his empty condo behind ... although its suffocating silence lingered in his thoughts ... he walked the short distance to the Club House and headed for the gym where there was an assortment of exercise equipment.  It was not as crowded as it was evenings and on the weekend.

More than an hour later, sweaty and exhausted, he elected to shower in the gym before going home.  Upon entering the deserted locker room, he stripped and walked toward the showers.  There, he got a surprise.  Another man who he guessed to be about 50 was standing under one of the shower heads letting the hot water rain down on his back and exposing Rick to a full frontal view.  Rick gave the man a quick visual inspection but his eyes locked on his crotch.  The man was totally lacking even a hint of pubic hair, which accentuated the length and width of his dangling cock.  It was a sight he had seen on a few gay web sites but somehow thought shaving down there was a fetish reserved for gay models.  He never gave a thought to others doing it.

The stranger’s voice jarred him.  “Hi.  Water’s fine.  Come on in.”

Rick panicked when he realized he had been caught staring at the man’s private parts.  He said “Hi” and turned away toward the faucet for another shower head on the opposite wall.  He couldn’t help himself; for the next several minutes, he stole quick glances at the other man’s barren pubic area.  Much to his surprise, the stranger seemed to make no effort to turn away as most men would do but, instead, seemed to be quite unconcerned about displaying himself brazenly.

“I can see you’re curious about this,” the man said, pointing to his crotch.

“No! ... well ... ah ... yes,” Rick stammered.

“It’s an idiosyncrasy, I suppose,” the man said.  “I get a lot of strange reactions when other guys see it but I just think it’s as normal as shaving the hair off your face every morning.  A matter of good grooming.  But you probably think that’s weird.”

“No.  It’s unusual, of course,” Rick tactfully said, hoping also to justify his wandering eyes.  “I hope you forgive my starring.”

“No problem, pal.  Doesn’t bother me a bit.”

Rick hurried through his shower and returned to the locker room to dry off and dress.  The other man followed close behind.  As they dried themselves off, the stranger extended his hand and said, “I’m Stan Harris.  I just moved in.  Building one.”

Rick shook his hand and said, “I’m Rick Chambers.  Pleased to meet you, neighbor.”

Rick was a little disturbed that Stan gripped his hand for longer than was customary.  They chatted about the amenities of the Club House and exchanged inconsequential information about their background and interests.  When Rick mentioned his late wife, he thought he saw a frown cross Stan’s face.

“I’m sorry you lost your wife,” Stan said.  “It must have upset you.”

“Yes, but she had been ill for some time and it was not unexpected.  The hard part has been adjusting to living alone.”

“I’m single, too,” Stan said.  “We ought to go out for dinner some time.  How about tonight?  Do you have plans for dinner?”

“None.  Just me and the microwave,” Rick laughed.

“Great,” Stan said enthusiastically.  “Why don’t we meet here in the Club House lobby?  Say about seven?  I know a great little Italian restaurant not 15 minutes away.  You like Italian?”

“Sounds good,” Rick said, still puzzled by Stan’s outgoing and uninhibited nature.

They thorough enjoyed their dinner.  The conversation was lively and they laughed a lot.  Rick couldn’t remember having such a pleasant time, which was all the more remarkable because he had met Stan only hours before.  Much of the camaraderie could be credited to Stan whose energy, good humor, and extraversion didn’t just carry the conversation but engaged Rick as well.

It was past nine when Stan pulled his BMW into the garage behind his condo building.  As the two new friends got out of the car, Stan said, “It’s still early.  Would you join me for a nightcap?  I have some fine single-malt scotch ... or I could find something else to your liking.”

Rick was hesitant but the momentum of their rapport and the thought of returning to his empty condo compelled him to accept the invitation.

Although Stan had said he had just moved in, his new home was elegantly furnished and, Rick thought, in a very tasteful and artful way.  He complimented Stan, saying, “This sure doesn’t look like the stereotypical bachelor pad.”

“Thanks.  I guess I’m a bit of a neat freak.  But you may have guessed that when you saw me in the shower this afternoon.”

It took a moment for Rick to connect the dots but he laughed at the reference to Stan’s shaved pubic area.  Stan asked for his guest’s drink preference and excused himself to go into the kitchen to pour the drinks.  While he was alone in the living room, Rick more carefully examined the décor.  The item that caught his eye was an oil painting above the fireplace of Stan with another man.  As he studied it, Stan returned with the drinks and a tray of snacks and said, “Here’s your scotch.  I hope you like it.”

“I was admiring the painting,” Rick said.  “Obviously done by a skilled artist.”

“Yes, it was done by a young man in Paris.  Since doing that one, he’s gone on to have some very successful one-man exhibits throughout Europe.  The man with me -- because I know you’re wondering -- is my former partner, David.”

“Former?” Rick asked and immediately regretted the question because it might be regarded as prying into personal affairs.

Stan turned suddenly solemn.  “Unfortunately, he died about a year ago.  We were hiking in the Alps.  He slipped and fell into a deep gorge.  We’d been together for almost 15 years.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rick said, uncomfortable about having made such a trite remark.

“It broke me up for a long time.  So ... I suppose you’ve concluded that I’m gay and he and I were lovers.  It’s true.  Does it bother you that you’re having drinks with a queer?”

“Not in the least,” Rick replied honestly.  And then he said something that, if he had given it any thought, he would not have said.  “Because you’re doing the same thing.”

Stan was astonished at what he thought he had heard.  Rick was also astonished that he had so glibly disclosed his true nature to a virtual stranger and tried, desperately and futilely, to extract himself from the position he had put himself in.

“I think I may have misunderstood you, Rick.  You said I’m doing the same thing ... as in having a drink with a queer.  Surely, that’s impossible.  You’re straight!  Married.  Or was.”

Devoid of any ideas to correct his mistake and influenced by the connection he had made with Stan, Rick took the only option that seemed open to him.  “Not impossible, Stan.  There are lots of men -- especially of my age who grew up in an oppressive atmosphere -- that are gay but lived a straight life to avoid the persecution heaped on homos.  I’m one of them.  I didn’t have the courage that you obviously had to be what you are ... to live with and love another man.  I admire and envy you for that.”

Stan didn’t say anything for a while as he tried to absorb what he had heard.  Just as Rick’s discomfort neared a peak, Stan said, “Sonofabitch!  I never would have thought you were gay.  On the other hand, you probably knew about me from the first time you saw me in the shower.”

“Oh?  How’s that?” Rick asked.

“My crotch, silly!  Or maybe you didn’t know that it’s common for gay men to shave there.  Mitch liked it so I got in the habit of shaving.  He did, too.  After he died, I guess the habit persisted.”

“Well,” Rick said.  “I must confess that I’ve seen several models on gay web sites like that but never seen one ... in the flesh, so to speak.”

Stan laughed, which did a lot to relieve Rick’s tension.

“So tell me, if you don’t mind,” Stan said.  “How does a gay man survive married to a woman for so long?”

“Survive is too strong a word, Stan.  I got a lot of satisfaction out of our sex.  I was rewarded with terrific children and grandchildren.  It was not as bad as you may think.  But I must confess that the yearnings did not go away.”

“I know I’m getting personal and you don’t have to answer but you’ve never had sex with a man?”

“When I was about 17, before I met my wife, I had a summer-long affair with a farm hand on my Dad’s farm.”  Rick paused, to decide whether to continue.  He continued but bent the truth a little to protect Todd.  “More recently, I’ve had a few sessions with a friend I know rather well.”

“Is he still in the picture?” Stan asked.

“Yes and no.  It’s with the explicit understanding that it’s for nothing more than sex and the relationship cannot continue.  I’ll leave it at that and not get into the reasons.”

“Of course!” Stan replied.  “You’ve already told me more than you had to, maybe more than you wanted to, and certainly more than I had a right to ask about.  Now, can I refill your glass?”

Rick nodded, glad for the interruption in the nature of the discussion.  When Stan returned with the second round of drinks, he was barefoot and bare-chested.  “I hope you don’t mind my getting comfortable.  When I’m alone, I usually pad around this way.”

“It’s your home, Stan.  You have the right to do what you want.”

They nursed their drinks and chatted for a while longer.  It was close to ten when Rick said, “Thanks for the dinner, the drinks, and the pleasant conversation but I should probably be going.”

Stan immediately asked, “Can you stay the night?  Here?”

Rick, oblivious to the underlying invitation, said, “Thanks but it’s a short walk home and two drinks are not enough to impair my sense of direction.”

“As you please, my friend.  But I was thinking ... in fact hoping ... that you could spend the night here and we could ... well ... explore what we have in common.”

“Are you talking about sex?” Rick asked, surprised at the nature of the offer.

“If you care to put it that bluntly, yes.  That is, if you want to.  I do.  It’s been a long time for me.  Sure, I could have tried the gay bar scene but I don’t want a one-night stand just to get my rocks off.  Maybe I’m fussy but I want someone I like.  And I like you.  I’ve thoroughly enjoyed your company all evening and would like to extend that pleasure.  If you decline, I’ll understand but I hope you’ll accept.”

Rick was speechless as he quickly thought about the opportunity and possible consequences.  Out of nowhere, a photo he had seen on the Web the night before popped into his mind and he burst out laughing.

Stan was bewildered by Rick’s instant change from serious consideration to boisterous laughter.

“Sorry,” Rick managed to say when he stopped laughing.  “For no logical reason, I remembered a picture on a gay Web site.  A studly hunk was wearing nothing but a tee shirt.  In bold lettering across the front it said, ‘I fuck on the first date.’  We’ve only had one date ... if you want to call it that ... and you’re inviting me into your bed.”

Then Stan laughed.  “Believe me, Rick.  It’s not my habit.  I was serious when I said that I waited to find someone I liked.  And honest when I said I liked you.  It’s definitely not a ‘biff, bang, thank you man’ kind of offer.”

“In that case,” Rick grinned.  “I’m flattered and honored to be your guest ... and companion ... overnight.”

Stan’s smile was broad and bright.  “Who knows?” he said.  “It may develop into something more than overnight.”  He rose from his chair, took Rick’s hands, and pulled him to his feet.  “Come, my friend.  Let me show you how hospitable I can be.”

He led his guest to the master bedroom that took Rick’s breath away.  A king-size, canopied bed dominated the room.  A large, mirrored head board faced the closet with full-length, mirrored, sliding doors on the opposite wall.  Maroon drapes quietly closed across the window when Stan turned on the lights in crystal sconces on either side of the bed.

“It’s beautiful,” Rick gasped.

“The credit goes to David, my former partner.  He had a bit of a flare for the dramatic and, for obvious reasons, gave the bedroom special attention.  You should have seen the expression on the electrician’s face when he came to wire the lights and drapes last week.  I can’t imagine what he’s telling his buddies now.”  They both laughed.

Rick had more than his fantasies fulfilled that night.  Todd had a little experience and not a small degree of skill but Stan was an absolute master as he took his guest to the heights of erotic delight and beyond -- once in bed and again in the shower before they yielded to sleep locked in a blissful embrace.  They awoke about eight the next morning and, after a hurried trip to the bathroom, spent more than an hour making love that was punctuated by thoroughly satisfying orgasms.

Over breakfast, Stan said, “Thanks for staying last night.  I hope you can come for a visit again.  Soon!”

“After last night,” Rick replied with a grin, “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to CUM again.”

Stan laughed and said, “Of course you can!  You’ve demonstrated both the volume and the force of that hose between your legs -- not to mention your regenerative powers.”

“Possibly,” Rick mused.  “But I can’t match you.  I felt like I was chug-a-lugging a gallon the first time.  And again this morning.”

Stan clasped and held Rick’s hand and said, “Can we do it again?  Often?  Maybe tonight?”

“Sorry, Stan.  I have a ... an appointment Saturday morning.”  Stan put on a pouty face so Rick quickly added, “But I’m free Saturday night.  My turn to treat you to dinner.  Is that all right?”

Rick walked home a very happy man.   

To be continued...

Posted:01/15/10