(From Chapter Five)

Gerry knew what he had to do as he stepped away, reached for his empty cup, and turned round to get a refill.

“Bye-bye, babe.  See ya later.”

“Good-bye, Tom … and try to stay focused on your patients today,” Gerry stated with no emotion, without even looking over his shoulder.

[This chapter is totally new and has never been posted before.]

Tom looked miserable – as if he’d had little or no sleep;  Gerry hadn’t even appeared to be the slightest bit concerned – he was too engrossed with his own inner state of turmoil, yet trying not to let it show through his outer, cold façade. 

Turning, Tom sighed and walked down the hall toward the front door.  Gerry heard it close.

Returning to his seat at the kitchen table, Gerry set the cup down, and stared into the dark brown liquid.  Unconsciously, he toyed with the mug, slowly turning it around and around, thinking, wondering, contemplating … going over and over different scenarios … different possibilities.

How long he sat there, he did not know.  His coffee had long ago gone cold;  it had been untouched.

The phone rang, jarring him back into his present surroundings.  It’s Tom, was his first reaction, checking up on me.  Gerry hesitated to answer, and it rang two more times.  He reasoned that if he didn’t answer it, Tom would probably rush home!  He didn’t want that!

Reaching for the wall-phone receiver, he softly said, “Hello?”

“Billy there?” slurred the man’s voice.  Gerry immediately had the feeling that the caller had had a bit too much to drink.

“No, I’m sorry;  you must have the wrong number.”

“Wrong number?” the voice grew louder and sounded angrier.

“That’s right;  you’ve reached a wrong number.  There’s nobody here by that name,” Gerry struggled to remain calm.

“You fuckin’ sure ‘bout that?  I called this fuckin’ number lotsa times,” he mumbled louder still.

“Of course, I’m sure.  I’ve had this number for three years!”  Gerry was beginning to lose his cool.  “I suggest, Sir, that you hang up and try redialing your fuckin’ number!”

“Get a fuckin’ life, you fuckin’ faggot!” screamed the irate voice on the other end, before slamming down the receiver.

Gerry yanked his own receiver away from his ear in reaction to the loud voice and noise.  He just looked at it.  ‘Get a fuckin’ life,’ he repeated.  ‘Get a fuckin’ life.’   Then, cradling it back onto the wall-unit, he thought, This sure as hell isn’t the life I want.  I don’t know what I want, but this sure as hell isn’t it! … and I’m not being fair to Tom.

What he “had to do” had been in the back of his mind all morning, and he had put it off as long as possible.  Straight away, he went into the library/study/den and retrieved some paper and a fountain pen, and returned to the kitchen table.

He glanced at the clock on the wall … 11:11 A.M.  Tom’s finished half his shift.  I’ve got to get this done and finished with!  He began writing.

<><><> 

Gerry took all of his own clothes, and even the new watch that Tom had bought for him as a birthday present.  Everything that they had purchased together, he left for Tom.  He wasn’t greedy, and besides, they were just ‘things.’

Two years earlier, he had purchased an old four-door DeSoto – not much to look at, but it ran well, and was even large enough to sleep in, if need be.

He headed east and stopped for the evening in Lake Tahoe, Nevada.  For the first time in his life, he went to a casino – Harrah’s. 

The glitter, the lights, the excitement silenced, for a while, the pangs of guilt for hurting Tom, the false sense of regret for his hasty decision, and the absolute feelings of being alone.  Even more alone than the train trip from Rockland, Maine, to San Francisco.

Several women sidled up to him, but Gerry politely refused their advances.

He sat on a stool in front of a ‘one-armed-bandit’ and dropped his nickels in.

A tall, well-built, cowboy-type man sat on the stool to his right.  He was very nicely dressed in fine looking boots;  tan-colored, tailor-made, chamois trousers and jacket with leather fringe along the sleeves;  and a sharp looking cowboy hat.  He was one expensive looking cowboy, and Gerry wanted to rub the leather on the man’s thigh – it looked so soft and sexy – but he pushed his desires away.

Then, a few minutes later, another cowboy-type man, dressed all in denim, sat on the stool to Gerry’s left.  He was considerably shorter than the first, but as he glanced at him, Gerry thought he was built like a brick shit-house!

Bells started ringing, lights started flashing, nearly causing Gerry to fall off his stool.  His machine had just won a two hundred dollar jackpot.  A slot attendant came over to him, cleared and re-set the machine, and gave Gerry two crisp hundred dollar bills.

The guys on either side of him slapped him on his back, congratulating him.

They all chatted for a while, both men continually pressing their legs harder and harder against Gerry’s.  He was aware that there were at least two empty stools together in several places within sight, and wondered why the men had sat on either side of him.

Sure, they were gorgeous hunks, but Gerry was in no mood for a Ménage à Trois (as Tom had explained the meaning to him), nor even for any sexual contact at all.  He excused himself, politely bid the men ‘Good-night,’ and walked back to his motel room.

Next morning, he walked around the quaint township, and later went for a drive through the evergreen forest with its massive Sequoias and Redwoods, and down to the crystal-blue lake.  Everything was pristine, clear and beautiful.

He’d brought some snacks to nibble on, and a couple bottles of Coca-Cola, and while sitting on a huge boulder overlooking the lake and the panoramic vista before him, a friendly little chipmunk jumped up on the rock, sat on its haunches and actually begged for something to eat.  Its squeaky little voice was all a-chatter, and it’s front paws clawed the air. 

Gerry had a small bag of peanuts.  He poured a few in his hand, and held it out to his little furry friend.  The chipmunk moved closer, then tentatively reached over, took one, sat back up, and proceeded to munch it.  Again and again, he (or she;  Gerry couldn’t see any indication of its sex) took the peanuts and ate them, until there were none left in Gerry’s palm.

He poured some more, and the little guy ate only one, then scampered off the boulder.  About ten or fifteen feet away, he stopped, turned around, sat up, and clawed the air again.  Gerry felt he was waving ‘good-bye,’ so he tossed the rest of the nuts in his hand to the little guy.  He grabbed a couple, stuffed them into his cheeks, and scampered up a nearby tree.

For a few moments, Gerry was happy and at peace with the world.

A week passed.  During the days, he drove to surrounding areas and explored the natural woodland wonders, glens filled with huge ferns, trees large enough for automobiles to drive through, and everywhere … green, green, green.  Bald Eagles soared on mighty wings through the cloud-speckled sky.  Everything was beautiful, and Gerry fell in love with the area.

During the evenings, he visited the casinos – Harrah’s was his favorite, though;  he always won something at Harrah’s – little jackpots, just enough to keep him going, and he was lucky enough to walk out each night with a little more than he had walked in with.

He decided to look for a job, any job, just so that he could stay in Lake Tahoe.  As luck would have it, he accepted a job as an Orderly at the small hospital there.  And as expected, the reference from Mariners was exemplary, and with no mention of an unexplained sudden departure.

As soon as possible, he rented a small, furnished efficiency apartment.

Within a year, one of the two Surgical Nurses (female, of course) had quit her job, and Gerry was moved into the position of the first male Surgical Nurse in the hospital.  At his insistence, soon all the staff was referring to him as a Technician rather than that ‘other’ word!

At first, he had been a ‘loner,’ not accepting dinner dates as the single new guy in town, not asking out any of the single girls, not going out for a drink with the guys after work.  He did his job professionally, and was liked by all.

He was making good money, both, at the hospital, and at Harrah’s, and was soon on first-name basis with many of the dealers and Pit Bosses at the casino.  They called him the luckiest guy in town.  But he only went to play the slots once or twice a week, and he never took more to play with, than he could afford to lose.

During his third year in Tahoe, he purchased a small two-storey log cabin up in the high forest, but still overlooking the town and the lake.

An Orderly had moved in with him – just as a friend and a co-worker – nothing else.  Everyone called him ‘Red’ for obvious reasons – he had the reddest, coppery, strawberry-blonde hair that anyone had ever seen;  it even changed shades as light hit it from different angles.  Cute as a button, Gerry thought.

The loft (overlooking the living room) had become like a library, but Gerry slept in the downstairs bedroom near the one and only bath in the cabin, but when Red moved in, Gerry bought a new twin-sized bed and installed it upstairs.  He was going to sleep up there in his own little world, and Red would have the room nearest the bath.

Gerry’s eyes wandered from time to time, and he had picked up ‘signals’ from a couple of the dealers and their ‘friends’ in the casinos.  But during those first three years in Tahoe, he never touched another person sexually.  His right hand had become his best friend out of necessity rather than passion.

Over the months, Gerry and Red became comfortable around each other, and in the privacy of the cabin, they spent most of the summer evenings in just their briefs or boxers.

Gerry had never been with a redhead before, and often wondered if that flaming red hair was also in the confines of those nicely bulging tighty-whities.

One evening, Gerry found himself staring at Red. Then to his horror he saw that Red had noticed him looking. Gerry didn't say anything, but realized that he, himself, was starting to firm up. Gerry looked away, but several minutes later he realized he was gazing at Red again. Gerry could see that Little Red was growing harder and longer, absurdly tenting the front of Red's jockeys.

Red slowly slid his hand under the waistband and rearranged himself to a more comfortable angle – straight across the front of his right hip.  He glanced back at Gerry just in time to see his Adam’s Apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

“Seven and a half inches, circumcised, and yes, it’s red down there, too,” he nonchalantly said, as if it were information that he gave out every day.

“Huh?”  Gerry blinked his eyes, shook his head, and asked as his eyes jerked to Red’s.

“Seven and a half inches … Circumcised … And yes, it’s red down there, too.  You were staring at my crotch for about ten or fifteen minutes, Ger.” 

That was the first time that Red had called him by his nickname, and in that instant, in that very instant, Gerry’s stone-cold heart cracked, opening just a tiny bit, for the first time in more than three years.

Why being called by his nickname had caused him to react the way he did, Gerry did not know, but Tom had lovingly called him ‘Ger’.  Perhaps there was some connection.

“Sorry.  I’m so sorry, Red,” Gerry said, his voice cracking, as he buried his head in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably, tears flooding his own groin and thighs.

Rising from the sofa, his hardon instantly disappearing, Red rushed across the hand-braided area rug and knelt beside the easy chair and threw his arms around Gerry’s back, their naked, hairy chests pressing against each other, Gerry’s head nestled in the crook of Red’s neck.

“What’s wrong, Ger?  What’s wrong, Buddy?  What did I say or do?”

Strange how ‘nice’ people always seem to think that ‘they’ are the cause of someone else’s pain.

Several hours passed.  They had confessed their homosexuality to each other.  Gerry had told Red everything about his relationship with Tom – everything!  He let it all out, even as much as he knew about the rape.  Gerry felt as if a heavy weight had suddenly been taken off his shoulders.  At some point during those hours, they moved to the sofa to be more comfortable;  Red’s knees were killing him.

After Gerry confided that he had been afraid of anal sex ever since the rape, Red said that he simply did not enjoy it either.  “Giving or receiving,” he added with emphasis.  “But I do love to rub it between a good buddy’s thighs.”

“Oh, yeah!  Me, too, Red,” Gerry remarked, “and I lose my hardon if someone wants me to fuck them!”

Eventually, Red convinced Gerry to lie face-down on the sofa, so that he could massage his tight shoulder, back and leg muscles … “with no sexual overtones,” Red said emphatically.  “I’ve never had massage therapy training … but I’ve never had any complaints, either,” he told Gerry with a seductive tone in his voice.

About an hour later, Red had finished working on Gerry’s back and front sides.  Gerry felt so relaxed, he didn’t want to get up.

“It’s after midnight, and we both have to go to work in the morning, Ger,” Red said.

“I know, I know, but I think I’ll just curl up here and think for a little longer, babe.”

“Babe?  Did you just call me ‘Babe’?”

“Oh, God, yes.  I’m sorry.  That’s what I used to call Tom.  I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Ger.  You don’t have any reason to be sorry.  Now, come on … you’re going to bed … with me … in my room.  And no sex … I promise.”

Suddenly, Gerry frowned and looked askance at Red.

“Don’t look at me that way.  You’re perfectly safe with me, Gerry.  You need someone to hold you, and I’m going to hold you tonight, and I won’t do anything that you don’t want me to do.  I promise.  Cross my heart and hope to die.”  He sounded like a little boy as he crossed his heart with his right index finger, then touched that finger to his tongue, and then held the finger up in the air.

Gerry squinted his eyes in a sideways glance.”

I’ll even go down to the sex shop and get a chastity belt, if you’d feel safer.”

“Sex shop?  What sex shop?” Gerry asked, laughing.

“Well, there could be one.”

“Maybe we oughtta open one,” Gerry joked.

“God!  We’d make a fortune,” beamed Red before changing the mood again.  “Seriously, now, when was the last time anyone held you through the night?  Huh?”

Gerry didn’t have to think;  he knew the answer immediately.  “More than three years ago.”

“See?  You’re starving for affection – for the touch of another human being.  And I’m right here, Buddy.”  He paused a moment and then added, “With what we’ve told each other tonight, maybe, maybe, in a few months, or a year down the road, we can become suck-buddies – not fuck-buddies – but suck-buddies.  Maybe we can help each other out that way – but not tonight.  Tonight is just for holding – maybe touching – nothing more.”

Gerry couldn’t take his eyes off of Red.  He sounded so genuine – so real.

Red continued.  “You need to be held, Ger.  Whether we’re spooned together or whether we’re holding each other … I’m all for it.  And with our faces so close together, and smelling your sweet breath, my tongue just might get such a hardon, itself, that it may try to slip through your lips.  Though, to be truthful with you, if we do that, I know I’m gonna get an erection.  And when I do, I’ll just get up, go to the bathroom, and take care of it myself.

“Like Hell, you will!” Gerry exclaimed.  “The way you’re talking, you’ve already given me a hard-on, and I’m right on the verge of saying that I want us to hold each other mouth-to-cock and mouth-to cock ALL NIGHT LONG!”

“Ummmmmmmmm,” Red moaned as he stood and held out his hand to Gerry.

“Ummmmmmmmm,” Gerry echoed, standing and taking Red’s hand in his own.  “Jockeys?  Or naked?”

As Red reached to the sides of Gerry’s, Gerry reached to the sides of Red’s.  Gazing into each other’s eyes, their heads slowly moved forward until their lips barely touched.  Their tongues began a gentle duel as they slid each other’s briefs down, but only so far as they could reach without breaking their lip-lock.  Then, like two flamingos, they each raised one foot, struggled with it, trying to find the other’s underwear, and helping each other to stand on one foot, finally worked the restricting cloth to the floor. 

“Whew!” they both exhaled heavily, stepping out of them.

Red held Gerry’s right hand in his left as he turned and headed toward his bedroom.  “Coming?” he asked.

“I sure hope so.”

“I think that’s spelled differently.”

Gerry slapped him on his naked ass.  Then quickly knelt down and kissed it … to make it allllllllllllll betterrrrrrrrrrrr.

<><><> 

Four more years passed.  It was 1959, and Gerry was thirty years old.  He had been in Lake Tahoe for seven years.  Only once had he heard anything about Tom, and it all happened by coincidence … Christmas Eve, 1958.

For the second straight day, it had continued to snow.  The main streets in town, and the main roads to other parts of the state were kept scraped relatively clear of the beautiful white shit, but the residential streets were another story – they were completely unpassable except for horse-drawn sleigh and those new-fangled, loud snow mobiles.

In times like these, staff members at the hospital had to find rooms in town somewhere, or, barring that, a cot or other hospital bed in the basement, the coffee room, doctor’s lounge, or even the morgue.

Living up the hill in the forest, neither Gerry nor Red could get home.  And the snow had really started falling while they both were on duty.  With the absences of employees who were snowed in at their homes, the ones at the hospital were working double shifts.

Finally, Gerry and Red had a few free hours, and even as tired as they were, they needed to fill their bellies.  Wearing their parkas and galoshes, they made their way down the slushy, snow-driven sidewalks to Harrah’s for their Christmas Eve Buffet.

Having gone through the lines for the first time that evening, they set their trays of food on a table-for-two, when lo and behold, they hear a high-pitched effeminate voice yelling, “GERRY … IS THAT YOU?”

No sooner had they turned toward the voice than Gerry was engulfed in arms covered in a forest green fluffy, woolly sweater with tiny red and gold twinkle lights all over it.  And to top-off the wearer, there was a red and white Santa stocking-cap.

To say the very least, Gerry was embarrassed.  He timidly scanned around the room and thanked God that no one from the hospital was there, but it seemed that everyone in the casino’s restaurant was silently watching the scene.  Gerry knew that his face was as scarlet as the poinsettias on each table.  As he glanced at Red, he knew that at any moment, Red would be rolling on the floor in laughter if he even dared to vocalize the silent guffaws that the hand over his mouth was restraining.

Gerry collected himself, and with as much quiet decorum as he could muster, asked, “Harry?  Harry Redfeather?”

Then, together, they asked, “What are you doing here?”  One, quite flamboyantly;  the other, rather sedately.

A short conversation ensued, and as Gerry and Red moved to sit at their table, Harry invited them to join his table that could easily seat two more.

Gerry was almost afraid to look over.  He had dreaded it.  He had known that it would happen some day, but still, he had dreaded it for nearly seven long years.  There sat Dr. Bzuzu, Yong Kim, a stunningly gorgeous reddish-blond-haired man, and … Tom.

Gerry looked to Red for support and courage.  Red looked back at him, with questioning eyebrows.  Gerry exhaled a deep lungfull of air before whispering in Red’s ear, “Might as well face my demons and get it over.”

“It’ll be OK, Buddy,” Red said, with a grin on his face, as he put an arm around Gerry’s shoulders and squeezed tightly.  Then they both picked up their trays and followed Harry to the larger table.

Soft, polite greetings came all around, between both strangers and acquaintances.  Gerry noticed that Tom’s stranger winked at Red, and when he looked back at his housemate, Red shrugged his shoulders but was visibly struggling to control a shit-eating grin.

Then Gerry saw that Tom looked at the stranger sitting next to him, and the stranger gently nodded his head, also apparently trying to control a shit-eating grin.

Tom frowned at his friend, but then stood and looked at Gerry.  Gerry looked into Tom’s beautiful green eyes with gold flecks in them. 

As they stood there silently, their eyes glistened with held-back tears.  Their lips trembled with unspoken words until in unison they whispered to each other, “I’m sorry.”  Two simple little words which meant so much to both of them.  Two simple little words, which wiped clean the slates of the past.

Instantly, their arms flew around each other as long-lost brothers.

While they were hugging, the two red-heads also stood and hugged.

Some few minutes later, Gerry and Tom broke their hug.  A napkin and a handkerchief wiped away their tears.

It was then that they noticed the red-heads hugging.

“What’s going on here?” Tom asked at the same time as Gerry asked, “Did I miss something?”

Neither of the ‘strangers’ said a word – they just looked at the other and slowly shook their heads from side to side.

Suddenly, a shocked expression crossed Gerry’s and Tom’s faces – and again, they spoke as one.  “You two look enough alike to be brothers.”

They nodded their heads this time.  “I’m Tyler Forrest,” said Tom’s red-head;  “and I’m Hunter Forrest, better known as ‘Red’,” said Gerry’s red-head.  “He’s got the reddest hair in the family,” said Tyler, pointing to Red.

Gerry stood there totally befuddled, looking at Red.  “Hunter?  Hunter?  You never told me your name was … Hunter!”

Red just shook his head and replied, “I don’t tell anybody that my name is Hunter!”

And then, Red pointed to Tom;  “I know YOUR story.”  “And I know YOUR story,” Tyler pointed to Gerry.

It was obvious that they were brothers – long lost brothers, in fact.  Both with different shades of red hair, both with sapphire blue eyes that could steal a man’s soul, both with lashes that could make women drool with envy, and both with tall, trim bodies.  Tyler was 6’3”, and Hunter (‘Red’) was 6’2".  Tyler was in his mid-thirties, and Red was in his early thirties.  Tyler – a Plastic Surgeon;  Red – an Orderly.  Tyler, the eldest son, hid his sexuality, and Daddy put him through med school;  Red was discovered sucking-off two of his school chums when he was just a young teenager, and Daddy kicked him out of the house, never to return again – but that’s another story for another time.

Gerry picked up his dinner knife and tapped his water glass a few times, getting the quiet attention of everyone at the table.

“Before we go any further,” he began, “I’d like to say something.”

He looked at his ex-lover.  “Tom, can you ever forgive me for leaving, the way that I did?”

“I already have, Babe.  I already have.”  Gerry’s right hand gripped Tom’s left.  Tom’s right hand gripped Tyler’s left.  Gerry’s left hand gripped Red’s right.

Then Gerry continued.  “Dr. B … Kim … Harry … can you guys ever forgive me for those … those terrible things I wrote in that letter?”  Tears were forming again in his eyes.

“Oh, Gerry,”  Dr. B said as he and Kim extended their hands across the table to Gerry, and as Harry jumped up from his seat and flitted behind Gerry’s chair, wrapped his arms around Gerry’s chest, and wiggled every inch of his own body in happiness.  “All is forgiven, my love,” squealed the living Christmas tree.  Harry returned to his own seat.

<><><> 

And so the conversations went that night.  Everyone catching up on all the latest goings-on.  The long-lost brothers reuniting.  The ex-lovers becoming once again comfortable with each other.  The past being forgiven by all concerned.  Tom recounted the way that he and Tyler had been drawn together, and found that they were totally compatible with each other in every way.  Gerry shared that he and Red were the deepest and best of friends, who shared their chosen intimacies but were not committed lovers.  And finally, Kim shared the fact that he was now one-third of a committed relationship with Harry and Dr. B.

Everyone, it seemed, had found his place of comfort.

No physical gifts were exchanged by any of the group of seven that night, but each had received the greatest gifts of all – Love, Acceptance, Forgiveness, and Friendship.

Gerry and Red returned to the hospital for a couple hours of sleep before going back on duty.  Tom and Tyler went to their complimentary room from the casino, and Kim, Harry, and Dr. B went to their complimentary room.

And the snow continued to fall.

<><><> 

As Gerry’s thirtieth birthday approached (July 4^th, 1959), he felt the need to make another change in his life.  He’d been a Surgical Technician for roughly twelve years, and even though new medical procedures were constantly being developed, he was getting burned out.

He found that he loved casino life.  He had learned to play Black Jack, Roulette, Craps, Baccarat, and several other lesser known games, and felt that he wanted to become a dealer / croupier.  Perhaps after training and some experience, he could get a job on one of the numerous cruise ships and travel to far away places with strange sounding names.

He learned that the best dealers’ schools in the country were in – where else? – Las Vegas!

Gerry and Red had a strong, deep friendship that would last forever, but with no committed ties to each other.  In the four years they’d lived together, they’d shared sexual intimacies that they both enjoyed, and they even threw a couple of Mountain Man Weekend Orgies.  Damn!  What a blast those were!

Thirty to fifty guys doing anything and everything with anyone and everyone who wanted to join in.  The beer flowed and everyone had fun.

Gerry saw lovers engaged in anal sex;  he saw total strangers begging to be fucked;  he saw how much guys really got off on fucking and being fucked.  And he talked to many of them and heard from everyone of them that the greatest joy and the greatest pleasure that two men can give each other is their united oneness.  Simultaneous deep-throated oral stimulation comes close, but tender, loving butt fucking beats it all.

A few times when Gerry and Red had become intimate, Red had managed to ease one and two well-greased fingers into Gerry’s most private of places.  When he stimulated Gerry’s prostate, it had driven Gerry to heights of ecstasy that he had never known, but still, he would not allow penile insertion.  Nor would he allow insertion by dildo or any other foreign object.

The time still was not right.  The right person had not come along.  And Gerry prayed that he would meet that very special person … very soon.

Red had found someone special, who had practically moved in with them, and when that happened, Gerry knew his moving time was near.

He sold the cabin to Red and his friend, then turned in his two-week notice at the hospital, and on August 16^th, 1959, he packed up his ’58 Pontiac Catalina Convertible, and went back into the cabin for one final walk-through.

Red and his friend (whose name just happened to be ‘Hunter’ also!) gave Gerry one final hug, and as they all separated, Red asked, “Can’t I just give you one li’l ol’ fuck before you go, Ger?”

Gerry answered, “I gotta hunch that I’m gonna get fucked REAL good … REAL soon, and maybe … if HE’s willin’, you can both fuck my brains out the next time you see me.”

Red and Hunter grabbed their own crotches and licked their own lips as Gerry got in the convertible and began his new life and his trip to Las Vegas, Nevada.

<End of Chapter Six>