Chapter Thirty-Two
“You want to? Don't you think it's getting … I don't know … kinky? Like stuff that shows up in tabloids” Kevin asked.
“Kinky? It's just an academic discussion of porn, and it's a course I need an A in. And Dormeyer would kill for a shot at guys like us.”
“Kill? Jeff, you're not serious. Are you?”
“Figure of speech. 'Student fucks Professor' never makes the news. It's only the other way around. Why? Because professors don't talk. Or kill. Usually. Wear those polyester basketball shorts. You look hot in those. And no underwear. We'll give him a little preview.”
“We'll give everybody a preview!” Kevin was reluctant.
“Dude, you're a porn star. Everybody's already seen the whole show. Do I have to give you a blowjob?” Jeff's question was aimed at Kevin's quickness at achieving an erection.
“It wouldn't hurt. You know how easy I get hard.”
“He'll like that. You can pretend it was an accident.”
“Dormeyer's creepy ...” Kevin objected.
“You think everybody but Darren's creepy!” Jeff argued.
“He's old and fat and creepy, the way he looks at guys. If he tries anything, I'll probably puke,” Kevin put his finger down his throat.
“You say that about almost everybody.”
“Not true. Rocky's not creepy.” Kevin knew that would piss off Jeff, whose unrequited lust for Rocky grew exponentially each time Rocky told him to pound sand.
This time Jeff ignored the goad. “Put the shorts on. We're going. His office hours end at four.”
Dormeyer made them wait ten minutes in the hall and then admitted them to his book-filled office. “Wellllllll, gentlemen, what brings two of you at once?” He checked their progress in his class book. “You're both passing, I see.”
“That's just it professor. We've been listening to what you have said and are trying to apply it to life.”
“Life?” Dormeyer was intrigued.
“Is it acceptable to participate for moral purposes in an activity that is immoral?”
“Like the state executing a criminal? Something like that?” Dormeyer had been through a few of these arguments.
“Kind of. Specifically, could we make a pornographic video in order to pay our school bills?”
Dormeyer was silenced. Kevin flexed a knee and Dormeyer's eyes instantly went to the polyester shorts and the visible outline of his penis. Kevin flexed that special muscle and his penis moved, setting off a fit of coughing in the professor.
“It's what we had to do,” Jeff explained. “In my case, I need a grade point higher than I've got to keep my scholarship or else I need money I haven't got to pay the school.”
“I just need the money, period,” Kevin said. He spread his legs and the shorts road up his thigh a few inches. He watched Dormeyer slump lower in his chair, trying to see up the shorts. Kevin shot Jeff his I'm-gonna-throw-up look.
“You BOTH have made these videos?” Dormeyer asked. He wet his lips repeatedly.
Jeff tapped the palm of one hand with a CD jewel box. “Yes,” he said ruefully.
“Is that … the, um, video?” Dormeyer squeaked.
“Yes,” Jeff admitted. “It's all of them.”
“ALL? How many are there?”
“Well, only three,” Kevin said, looking at the floor.
Jeff turned to him and put his hand on Kevin's inner thigh. “It's not the end of the world, Kev,” he consoled. He patted Kevin's leg and gave it a final squeeze before turning back to the professor. “Kevin is taking this really hard.”
Dormeyer took a deep breath. “Yes … well … The first consideration, I suppose, is was your act illegal?”
“Not according to the studio. The video is perfectly legal and we're over eighteen. Nobody forced us to do it.” Kevin put his hand on his shorts to try to hide the partial erection caused by Jeff's touch. Dormeyer's eyes kept darting to it, Kevin was hiding nothing.
“So ...” Dormeyer stopped and cleared his throat nervously. “So ...” He wet his lips again, unable to keep his eyes off Kevin's fiddling with his shorts. “The next consideration should be did your actions harm anyone?” His voice squeaked on the word harm.
“Harm? Nobody was injured,” Jeff answered quickly.
“Jeff,” Kevin corrected, “That older guy who got fucked claimed you hurt him. A little.”
“Older guy?” Dormeyer asked. “How much older? Was he taking advantage of you?”
“Probably about your age, professor. About thirty, I guess.” Dormeyer, who was much closer to fifty than thirty, couldn't hide his delight at Jeff's apparent miscalculation. “And anyway, I only did what he wanted. I didn't intend to hurt him.”
“What did he want?” Dormeyer almost whispered.
“This is embarrassing … he wanted me to fuck him really hard. And then when I did, he screamed and I quit.”
“You didn't,” Kevin insisted. “You didn't quit until you came. Of course, that was pretty quick. He's got a hair trigger, professor,” Kevin confided.
”Only the first time,” Jeff countered. “I lasted a long time on the reshoot.”
“The reshoot?” Dormeyer asked.
“We had to do it again,” Jeff explained. “I was ready but the older guy needed some private time to get ready.” Dormeyer looked puzzled so Jeff continued, “He used this huge
dildo on himself to keep his ass open.”
“Yeah, and I had to do the
dildo-ing,” Kevin rolled his eyes. He gestured with his hands and his cock stood up in the shorts. He quickly covered himself again. “So fuckin' sleazy.” Dormeyer couldn't tell if Kevin meant the
dildo-ing or the present discussion.
“So … that was the only harm caused?”
“Well, this other guy, the owner, I think, said, 'You're killing me,' but I think he meant financially because Kevin and the older guy really got into the
dildo-ing and it took time away from the production.” Jeff laughed. “Kevin loved teasing him.”
Dormeyer wasn't completely taken in. “Why are you worried about the question of morality? It wasn't illegal. Not permanent harm seems to have been done. It probably wasn't the best use of your time, but ...”
“It's the money issue, professor. Should we have done it for money when it was so much fun? I think we shouldn't have sold ourselves like … like you know. Kevin is bothered by what we did, but I'm bothered by the money.”
“Money versus what? Emotions?”
“Yeah, I kinda got to like the older guy ...” Jeff admitted.
“Did you see him again?” Dormeyer asked.
“Yes, several times, and I took money from him.”
“Jeff could have financed a Porsche with the money he got,” Kevin commented.
“Not true. I never asked him for it. Anyway, Professor, I feel like I really need to make up for it. Is that a moral solution?” Jeff asked.
“What do you mean 'make up for it' ?”
“I think I should offer myself to someone absolutely free.”
“There's no moral need to do that,” Dormeyer answered quickly.
“I think I need to; it just seems like I have to do it,” Jeff said insistently.
“Gentlemen, I'm out of time, but we can continue this discussion later if you want. It really is a modern twist on an old dilemma.” Dormeyer was plainly dismissing them and the boys left.
Dormeyer took a deep breath as the door closed. Thank God, he thought; what a mess that could turn into. First he imagined newspaper headlines, but decided that was old-fashioned thinking. Internet – that's what would happen. Me splashed all over the Internet. Visions of Anthony Weiner's semi-attractive dick sprang to mind. So sleazy. Thank God, he told himself, this time I kept control of myself. Then his breath caught. He saw it on the chair: the jewel box containing the CD. His hands shook as he inserted the disc into his computer. He stopped the playback and locked the door. He pressed play and opened his zipper.
The conversation didn't go as Neil had expected. Jerry didn't enjoy hearing about Lynne at all. In fact he acted hurt. “It's no big deal, Jer. I just needed to try it. I had to answer her challenge. And to tell the truth, I wanted to see what I would think.”
Jerry just nodded and sat in the chair, fingering the remote, surfing through the sports channels. He wouldn't look at Neil.
“It was fun and all, but it was pretty mechanical.” Neil didn't know what else to say.
Jerry turned to him. “Do you want to leave? Move out?”
“No! No! Absolutely not! Why would you think that?”
“I just wanted to know.” Jerry got up and tossed the remote to Neil. “I'm going to bed.”
Neil checked the front and back doors, turned off the TV and the lights and went into the bedroom. Jerry was already in bed with the light off. Neil undressed in the dark, brushed his teeth and stuff, and crawled into the bed. “Jer?” He reached out.
“Huh?” Jerry answered.
“I want to kiss you.”
“I'm kinda tired, Neil ...”
“Tim says if you live together, you gotta make love every night.”
Jerry turned to him and they made love. It wasn't their best night and both men were glad for sleep. When Jerry woke in the morning, he saw Neil in the dim light standing naked in front of the dresser mirror looking intently at himself.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh … morning. I had the strangest dream last night.” Neil shifted his gaze to Jerry and then returned to looking at himself. “I dreamed I was standing right here, naked, in front of the mirror. Come here, would you?” Neil waited for Jerry to get out of bed and approach. “Hug me the way you do ...”
Jerry came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Neil's chest, first loosely and then tighter until he heard Neil sigh at the pressure of their naked bodies. They held the pose looking in the mirror and then Neil kissed Jerry's fingers.
“I was standing here and I noticed I was full of holes … like I took a couple dozen bullets or something … but it wasn't bloody or anything … just holes, like I was a Swiss cheese.” He paused and kissed Jerry's hand again. “And then you came up behind me and held me like we're doing … and I could see your body behind me, I could see you through the holes. And then you kissed me on the neck and I closed my eyes ...” Jerry mimicked the action described and Neil closed his eyes. “And when I opened my eyes, all the holes in me were filled in. Strange, huh?”
Jerry gave Neil a little squeeze but didn't interrupt.
“It was like you had filled in all the holes. The easy explanation is … the dream was telling me that I like it when you fuck me. And I do... I love it when you fuck me. But it was saying more, I think. It was saying parts of me are missing, and you fill in those holes … that you're part of me … you make me whole, Jer …. you're half my brain, half my heart ...” Neil turned in Jerry's arms so he was facing him. He held Jerry around the waist. “What you said last night … I don't want to leave you.” He buried his face in the warmth of Jerry's neck. “Don't think that.”
“Are you saying you love me?”
“Yes I love you. More than love you. I can't get along without you.”
“You could tell me. That would be ok. I wouldn't have to wonder what you're thinking ...”
Neil knew he was forgiven. He pulled Jerry back into bed and they made love like lovers. There was nothing tentative or experimental, nothing held back, no reservations left. For Neil it was a driven kind of sex, a new need in him that Jerry completely filled. He came soon after they started but wouldn't let Jerry stop until he had come, too. It was messy but that's how love is.
With Eric in Alameda for a long weekend, Z successfully put Craig out of his mind. Eric seemed more like his old self rather the student-zombie and neglectful lover he had been over the past year.
“It's over Z,” he said. Z's look of horror made Eric quickly add, “Med school, I mean - the grind part is over. I'm in cruise mode now … This last year is going to be easy. The hours will still be long, but not so killer, I hope.”
Eric was still tired that night, but their love-making showed improvement, enough improvement that Z felt guilty over his dalliance with Craig. It was a limited guilt, however, really just a sense of regret, not a cause for unnecessary drama. “Don't lie; but you don't have to tell them every last thing, either,” as Rory always said. And it was Rory's counsel that Z relied on.
“Japan? What could you do in Japan you can't do here?” had been Rory's reaction to Z's breakup news. “I wish you hadn't told me, Z. I thought you were so solid. Now you are just another human like the rest of us.”
“I had to tell somebody, Rory; and you are the only one who reliably keeps his mouth shut. Plus, you give good advice.”
“Tim keeps his mouth shut,” Rory replied, remembering how long Tim had known about Jerry and Neil and said nothing. “Anyway, I wouldn't do the Japan thing … going away with somebody would be an irrevocable wedge between you and Eric and you admit you don't know what to do. You need to give Eric more time. He's not somebody you want to give up on easily.”
So Z skipped the confession and forgiveness scene, cooked Eric a pretty good dinner, made pretty good love, and looked forward to lacrosse in the park the next day. Sex was always better after physical exertion.
They found the field dusty at Rittler Park. Fall's sunny and hot weather had arrived a little early. Everybody was sweating and enjoying it. Nash Chlomsky was the day's new addition; his mediocre ability was exceeded by his energy expenditure. “He tries really hard,” was Cal's observation. “He'll catch on to the stick work.”
Nash moved well. He got to the right place at the right time reliably. It was the stick, catching and passing, that confounded him. Bo helped him out with some pointers and it was democratically voted on that Nash could use a goalie's bigger-webbed stick for his first afternoon. “Man, that was a workout,” a sweat-soaked Nash exclaimed at the end of the day.
“That's what the bay is for: cooling down,” Bo said. “Let's go.”
The rest of the group went to Rory and Tim's, while Nash, Bo, Nicky, and Darren walked the long block to the beach. There were families still on the sand down near Park Street, but otherwise only a few runners and solitary beachcombers were around the Grand Street section.
Everybody was going to swim in the shorts they had worn for lacrosse, but Bo said he needed to take off the compression shorts he was wearing underneath. With a preliminary glance around to ensure some version of privacy, he quickly shucked his outer shorts and peeled down the tight inner garment. He was briefly naked before he put the outer shorts on again. Nash watched with his mouth open, amazed as much by the public nudity as by Bo's body; if this were Brooklyn, he thought, the nude body would either be eight or eighty, not eighteen. He felt it again, that uneasy sense of falling in love with an image, an unattainable dream.
After a brief swim in the wake-you-right-up cold water, Bo went home, leaving the three others behind. Nash couldn't contain himself. “I don't know if I've ever met anybody THAT good-looking.” Darren smiled. “There's nobody, NOBODY in Brooklyn who looks like that.” Nicky frowned. “You just want to dip him in chocolate and ...,” Nash enthused.
Nicky was disgusted. “Nash, have you ever had sex with anybody? Anybody at all?”
“Of course I have!” Nash answered instantly. “Lots ...” They walked silently for a bit until Nash asked, “Hand jobs count, don't they?” Neither Nicky nor Darren commented. “It's Friday night … what do you think he's doing?”
“Who?” Darren asked with pretended innocence and got a glare from Nicky.
“Bo ...”
“He's probably got a boy friend or three,” Nicky said, trying to end the discussion.
“Boy friend? Really? You think he's gay?”
“Everybody's gay!” Nicky said.
“He means everybody who was playing lacrosse today,” Darren explained.
“No shit? NO SHIT???” Nash stopped in his tracks. “That blond guy?”
“Eric? Yes,” Darren answered. “He and my brother Z ...”
“Your brother? You're shittin' me.”
“Shitting you? Darren and Z look like twins, numb-nuts.” For some reason Nicky was annoyed by Nash's innocence.
“Everybody?” Nash repeated.
“Everybody!” Nicky repeated. “Except maybe Neil and Jerry. The jury's still out on them; but they're up to something.”
“No shit ...” Nash said again in quiet wonder. He was reviewing in his head the guys he had met and stumbled on a bump in the sidewalk. He lurched forward and grabbed Nicky to keep from falling. He regained his balance and then, when he realized where his hands were, he yanked them off Nicky.
“Touch me like that again and you're on a plane. Got it?”
“Yeah, sorry, Nicky. Sorry.”
They split up, Darren and Nicky heading for their place and Nash walking to Carolyn's house with lots to think about. Two gay cops, he thought. Neil and what-was-his name? They looked like cops, but there was something else about them. They had a humanity, sensitivity, and sexiness that didn't seem to fit the cop image. And the computer guys … not nerds at all. The doctor-guy. Z and his brother. That amazing football coach and his friend. He thought about each of the guys in turn but his thoughts kept returning to the insistent vision of Bo, changing on the beach. He savored the vision in his head, trying to recall every detail. It took a while to put words to what he felt: I gotta suck that cock. There was nothing casual about the feeling; it was a biological imperative.
