Fixation by Gerry Young

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It’s not that I wasn’t aware of my foolish behavior. I knew perfectly well that I was obsessed with him. Certainly, I knew he was unavailable to me. He was twenty-six years older than I, married with two teen-aged children. Thinking about it after all these years, I wonder how I could have been so foolish as to fall in love with him.

*****

It was way back in the year 1960, and I was twenty-two years young. I moved to Michigan, from Kitty Hawk, NC, with the expectation of returning to college, to earn an undergraduate degree, and then to go on to study medicine. Unfortunately, none of that worked out for me.

I got a job in Detroit at Henry Ford Hospital in the Kitchen Staff Department. Not only that, but I was lucky enough to rent a studio apartment within a short walking distance of the hospital. I’d never be late to work even in an abysmal snow storm like those hundreds of other employees who’d have to drive – or take a bus – from God knows how far away, if they could get there at all. As soon as I settled in, I tried to make friends and a life for myself. I met plenty of people at work, but I had little in common with them. You see ... I’m gay, as if that weren't already obvious.

I started to attend a Lutheran Church not too far from my bachelor apartment and the hospital. I reckoned that even if I didn’t meet any other gays, I would meet people of like mind, with whom I could relate.

I met Mark and his family the very first Sunday I attended the church.

I went to the social hall after the service with little expectation of making friends that first time. I just wanted people to see me, and know that I belonged there. I ached to make friends badly, but I was willing to go slow and not rush things.

This absolutely beautiful, stunning, man was talking to the pastor in front of the coffee urn. I fell in love with him immediately – Mark, that is. My cock started to throb. I knew he was straight – or at least bi – only because he was wearing a wedding ring, but I didn’t care. I just had to meet him. I walked over to where he and the pastor were standing.

"I’m sorry to interrupt," said I, "but I just wanted to introduce myself, Pastor. I just moved from Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, and haven’t yet met a soul in town," I lied. Not only did the pastor shake my hand, but so did the heart-throb-gentleman who was talking to him.

"I’m Mark Whalen," he said as he pumped my hand way too tightly. "I’m president of the church Board of Directors."

My heart fluttered as never before. "Sandy Brown," I said simply.

Somebody called the pastor, and he excused himself.

"Come with me, Sandy," Mark said; "I’d like you to meet my wife and kids." Apparently they were talking to a whole group of people, and when we got there, they stopped the conversations, and Mark introduced me to everyone, saving his family for last.

Mark’s wife, Marilynn, greeted me cordially, as did his seventeen year old daughter, Grace. Mark, Jr. was less friendly – still a teenager – but he did shake my hand and wish me well in my new city. Junior was Grace’s twin, and he was even more handsome than his father, but I had no designs on him; I like cured meat – not fresh! It was his father I wanted to wrap in my arms and make love to. I was obsessed by his mature beauty.

We chatted for a few moments, and then I said, "It was a pleasure to meet y’all, I’m sure, an’ I hope to see y’all next Sund’y."

I turned to leave, but Mark grabbed my arm and went with me as I was walking away. "You said you were new in town?"

I nodded while saying, "Yes."

Do you have any plans for this afternoon?"

"None at all," I answered.

"Then I insist that you have lunch with us."

"That’s very kind of you, Sir, but I have no transportation, and no way to get home depending, that is, on where you live."

"Not a problem; I’ll drive you home."

I swear, when he said that he looked at me in such a way, that I foolishly believed he was trying to seduce me. At the very least, I could see that he wanted to be my friend … I hoped.

*****

I squeezed into the back of the car with the twins. Junior never spoke to me once, but Grace chattered away. I think she saw me as a possible paramour.

As we rode along, I saw signs that indicated we were in Grosse Point Shores, an obviously very affluent area. The minute we got into the house, Mark informed the cook that there would be one more for lunch. It didn’t faze her at all, and she greeted me with a warm smile.

I glanced around the richly furnished home. There was a baby grand piano in the living room, and it held tons of pictures of Grace in ice skating outfits. I got really enthused. "Do you skate?" I asked her. (What a ridiculous asinine question that was, with all those beautiful, happy photos!)

"Yes. I’ve been in a few competitions. I even won a couple."

"That’s wonderful," I said. "I used to compete in pairs, but my partner got married and moved to Arizona. We won a couple of competitions also. And I never tried to find another partner."

"Oh, Sandy … oh … may I call you 'Sandy'?" she pleaded.

"From one with such grace and beauty, Grace, I'd be honored." She blushed.

"Please go skating with me. Nobody I know is interested in skating, and I was just about to give it up. Now I’m thinking we might make good partners."

This was going better than I dreamed. If I took Grace skating every weekend, I could get to know Mark better and better. "Sure," I said with the broadest smile I could manage. "How 'bout next Saturd'y?"

"You’re on." She smiled back.

"There’s a problem," I said. "I don’t have a car, and I’ll have to take public transportation. You’ll have to tell me where the rink is."

"Don’t worry about that," she said. "I got my license a few months ago." She looked at her father. "Daddy, may I borrow the car when Mr. Brown … errr … Sandy and I go skating?"

"Sure," he said, and then he gave me that smile again … followed by a quick but private wink. "But each time you go, remember to bring him back to the house for dinner, and I’ll drive him home. Don't want you to drive in the dark, yet."

After lunch, Mark surprised me. I would have thought that the family would sit and chat for a while, but Mark said, "C’mon Sandy. I’ll take you home."

Grace and I took the time to exchange telephone numbers, and I gave her my address. "I’ll pick you up at 1 PM," she informed me. "Will next Saturday be O.K.?"

"Fine. Cain't wait."

I thanked them all, including Aisha, the cook, for a wonderful lunch, and for them all being so nice to me.

Junior didn't say a word. He just stared at me, and I saluted him. He squinted his eyes, and cocked his head to one side. But I did see a slight smile to begin. It didn't last long, though.

The moment we got into the car, Mark asked, "You’re gay aren’t you?"

I was shocked, but that was something I never denied. "How did you know?"

Mark didn’t answer me immediately. He reached across the console and laid his hand very high up my thigh. Those fingers were millimeters from my cock.

"Yes, and I was hoping that when we get to your apartment, we could play a little. Obviously, I can’t stay very long, but I’ll find a way for us to have a more extended session another time."

I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening. A few hours earlier, I’d walked into the church social hall. I spotted Mark, and fell instantly in love with him. I thought I was fightin' windmills – a la Man of La Mancha – if I evah believed I could have him. Wow!!! My fantasy was about to come true!

As soon as we entered my apartment, Mark wrapped his arms around me and started to kiss me passionately. I was truly overwhelmed. I returned his kisses, and our tongues began to copulate. Suddenly, Mark pulled away from me and started to rip his clothes off like a mad-man – I did the same – b'lieve me. He examined my hard, little man, and murmured, "Nice." He was uncut, too, and we were about the same size in length and girth.

I pulled him onto my Murphy bed, and laid him on his back. With no further preliminaries, I fell on top of him, and leaned right down over his throbbing ding-a-ling. Umm, umm, yum! I took him into my mouth, and started to suckle it like it was an all-day sucker. I was heady with joy. I hardly noticed when he gushed into my gullet. I swallowed everything, and didn’t release him until he softened.

He immediately returned the favor. As soon as I climaxed, he jumped up and started dressing.

"I promise ..." he whispered in my ear, "... next time we’ll go at it longer."

Grace picked me up promptly at 1 PM the next Saturday. When we arrived at the rink I had every intention of paying the entrance fee for her, but Grace stopped me. "Oh, no," she said, "Daddy gave me money for both of us." Thank God, I’d thought to bring my figure skates with me when I moved to Michigan.

We skated continuously for the entire public session. Sometimes we skated alone, sometimes holding each other’s hands, and once we actually danced across the ice. We only took one break when I bought us both hot chocolates. I was truly enjoying myself, but all I could think of was Mark driving me home after dinner that evening, and the time we would spend together.

In the car, driving back to her home, Grace and I agreed that we would skate every Saturday for fun, but that we were both too busy to devote the time we would need for competitive skating.

That night at dinner, Mark dropped a bombshell. He directed his attention to me, and said, "I have to stay late after church tomorrow. I’m working on plans for a church social and fund raiser. Do you think you could stay and help me, Sandy?"

"Of course, I will," I beamed at him. "Y’all’ve been so kind to me, and you, Sir, have treated me just like a son."

Just like the previous Sunday night, Mark did not linger long after dinner, but drove me right home. Again we brought each other to glory with fellatio, and I was disappointed; Mark was running off again. He had no idea how much I loved him.

He patted my naked butt. "Of course, I’d like that a lot, Son," he said. "How about downstairs in the church basement after services tomorrow? Everyone will have gone home for Sunday lunch? We’ll be alone."

"I’d be scared stiff … uhh … scared limp … about doing it in church, where somebody could walk in on us," I said. "Isn’t there someplace else we can go, like a hotel?"

"I have just the place," he said. "It’s a cruising park, with plenty of shrubbery and privacy."

"I’m almost sure some of your neighbors go to our church, and they might see us. I can explain just dropping you off, but not spending a whole afternoon with you."

The next day the Whalen family came to church in two cars, so that Marilynn could drive the kids home, and Mark and I would have a car after working on the ‘project.’ This prompted Mark to say when we were alone, "I think I’ll buy you a car, so that when opportunities arise, we can meet each other somewhere."

"If it’ll make you feel better, we’ll get you a used car, and I’ll put down a hefty down payment. We’ll finance the rest with easy monthly payments that you can afford without difficulty. I’ll co-sign the loan. How does that sound?"

"Good," Mark said. "Let’s go to the park now, and then we’ll figure out when we can get together and buy that car."

Mark drove us into an area that was so isolated, and so surrounded with shrubbery, that I prayed he could maneuver the car out of there. It was too cold to make love on the grass, so we did it in the back seat. We had more time now, and Mark came prepared with lubricant. We actually did the dirty. It was long before AIDS and nobody used condoms then. I can’t tell you how delighted Mark felt about us doing that, but my obsession was deepening along with my love.

He met me after work on Wednesday, and we went to a local Dodge dealership. Dodge was Mark’s favorite auto. He was some sort of executive with Chrysler Corporation. We bought a two year old used car, and the salesman gave me an employee’s discount. He paid for half of it, and I financed the rest. Mark guaranteed the loan.

With my own transportation, I began to pick up Grace to go ice skating. After the session, we would go for dinner at the Whalen’s house, and I would drive myself home. Mark didn’t like it, but I convinced him that that would raise less suspicion with his family. To make up for it, every once in a while he would call me at work, and when I left the hospital, I would drive to our secluded place in the park. We made love, and then Mark rushed off to get home for dinner. I began to grow angry at his clock watching, and envious of his family.

One awful day – winter had come, and snow was lightly falling – we were in the park, and I was giving Mark a blow job. Suddenly there was a tapping on both rear side-windows. There was a policeman standing on each side of the car. They must have seen us in action, and they wanted us dressed and out of the car.

We got ourselves together, and stepped out. One took Mark off to the left, and the other asked me if I had been forced to have sex on Mark. I denied coercion and said that I loved him. They gave us a strict warning, and told us to go elsewhere. Such nice policemen they were!

Both of us got back in the car. Mark reluctantly agreed to rendezvous in my apartment. The police were too close a call for him, and we might not be so lucky next time.

We went on this way for several months, but I grew dissatisfied with such infrequent sex. I started to hang out at gay gathering places – the Woodward Cocktail Lounge on Woodward Avenue in particular, and The Diplomat for drinks, dancing under black-light, a drag show, and pick-ups – and that’s where I met …

We were very attracted to each other and we made love that same night. There were no time restrictions, and we coupled slowly and sensuously. Even though sex with George was infinitely better and more satisfying than with Mark, I was so obsessively in love with Mark, that I didn’t see the difference. If Mark called to ask me to meet him someplace, I made excuses to George why we couldn’t get together that evening.

George was only a few years older than I was at the time. He informed me that there was a small hotel for sale in Palm Springs, California. He had saved enough for a down payment, and he had been promised financing for the remainder. He begged me to go to California with him, but I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Mark. I knew he could never be mine, but I needed to be near him.

Finally fate stepped in. One Friday morning Mark called me at work. He informed me that his wife and the kids were going to the Adirondacks in upstate New York for the weekend to visit his in-laws and get in some skiing. They were leaving on a 5 PM train. He begged me to come over after work and spend the weekend with him, at least until it was time to go to church on Sunday morning. After church we could go our separate ways. I was thrilled.

I rushed over Friday evening. Mark’s cook (Aisha, a born-again Christian by faith; a Muslim by birth, I came to find out) had prepared a lovely dinner for him, and he’d given her the weekend off since his family would be away.

We didn’t rush dinner, but as soon as we put all the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, we bounded upstairs and into the shower. We soaped each other all over, and worked ourselves into a frenzy. At last we had plenty of time, and we made love like George and I did … that is to say … slowly. We gave each other as much pleasure as possible.

We finally got out of bed around noon on Saturday, to get a bite to eat. We went downstairs naked, and – lo and behold! – found Marilynn sitting in the living room with her back us.

When she heard us on the stairs, she stood, turned around, and glanced at us once, and then told me to get out of the house and never come back.

Mark asked stupid questions: "Why are you here? Where are the kids? I didn't expect you back so soon."

"That's quite obvious," she stated with gritted teeth and a lion's angry upturned lip!" It seems that she forgot about an important meeting she just had to attend at the church that evening, so she got off the train in Cleveland and returned to Wyandotte. The kids continued their clickety-clack journey to their grandparents at the Lake. Mark and I hadn’t closed any doors, and when she came in the house, she heard sounds and went to investigate. She caught us in the act, but quietly went back downstairs.

I ran back upstairs, jumped into my clothes, ran downstairs and out of the house.

I tried to call Mark several times at work, but he wouldn’t take my calls. I never went back to the church or took Grace ice skating again. Reluctantly, I saw more and more of George. I cared for him, and we made love, but I was still in love with Mark. Every time I made love to George I fantasized I was with Mark. I just hope I never called George by Mark's name. Oy vey, such a meshuggah I woulda been! I tried to erase my obsession, but it wouldn’t go away.

Finally after several weeks had passed, it was getting closer and closer to George’s move to California. I had lost Mark, and I couldn’t bear to lose George also. He kept badgering me to go with him, and I finally agreed. On the night before our departure, George would sleep at my place. He had a big sedan, and we overloaded it with his stuff and mine. After the car was jam-packed full, I drove my car to the Dodge dealership and George followed me. I left the car at the front door. The key was in the ignition, and on the driver’s seat I left a note stating that Mark Whalen would make the remaining loan payments. George and I started our trek to Palm Springs about 5 AM that morning.

We've been in a loving, monogamous relationship from that day on. Nevertheless, not a day goes by that I don’t think about Mark. Intellectually, I know how stupid my obsession was and still is, but I can’t shake it. Every day I'm tempted to do a Google search for him. I'm nearly eighty now, so Mark would be a hundred and six. It's reasonable to assume that he has passed, but in my mind he will always be a gorgeous forty-eight-year-old gay father-like lover that I had for just over a single year.

Like I’d told him during one of our last rendezvous, "Mark, when you leave here, you go home to your family – your wife – your son – your daughter. But when you leave me, I have no one – except maybe – a new trick. "

I still love you, Mark, and always will. But if you're where I think you are, I can live with that. I just hope you can forgive me for dumping the car on you. And I just hope and pray that you and Marilynn are still together, looking down on your children and grand-children.