Later that night, home in bed alone, I tossed and turned.  None of my usual tricks to get to sleep worked, not even peanut butter and crackers.  

I gave up, at least for an hour or so, and switched on the reading light beside my bed.  I picked one of the three different international spy novels I had started and tried to get swept up in the plot.  But my mind raced back to the evening at Greg's home.

The more I thought about Greg on that dating app the more shocked I was.  I didn't fault him or judge him.  It was just that in all of the times he and I had jerked off together he had not once done anything more than merely glance in my direction a few times.  To go from that, repeatedly, to him bending over my chest and sucking up my semen out of the hairs on my stomach and chest. . . I mean, what a leap!  What a jaw-dropper!   

The heart of the matter was that Greg's messing around with Colton, in comparison to the tame stuff he did with me, had really shattered some barriers for him.  As he had said, Colton "inspired" him and Greg mentioned something about striking out over new horizons.  Wow.  Was this a testament to Colton's power of persuasion, or Greg's readiness to move on from divorcing his wife, a combination of both factors, or something else entirely that I had not thought of yet?

I dwelled on reliving the experience with Greg and realized I was rock hard again.  I pushed the covers down and started stroking.  Instead of my usual fantasies, my visualizations stayed focus on remembering Greg's touch and feeling him work so diligently for me.  I came quickly, then felt so sleepy I didn't even clean up.  I finally fell asleep in mere minutes. 

––––––––

AWAKE EARLY THE NEXT morning at dawn, somehow refreshed with just a few hours sleep, I threw on some shorts and sneakers for a brisk walk in the park.  It was peaceful.  The hustle and bustle of my neighbors wouldn't begin in earnest for another hour or two and for the most part I had the trails to myself.  The paths weaved around the park's eleven acres, around the tennis courts, basketball courts, jungle gyms and swings, volleyball net, horseshoe box, and picnic areas.  

I had clocked in forty-five minutes of aerobic exercise by the time I spotted Steven crossing the street and coming toward me.  The front of Steven's home faced the park.  He was in a snappy suit with polished shoes and a handsome tie, more than appropriate for his work as a financial planner in the city's downtown district.  Steven's dimples emerged as he approached and smiled.

"I thought that was you, Mike."

"Good morning."  

"I've been hoping to run into you."

"You could have called me."

"No, I wanted to see your face when I told you," Steven said.

"What's up?"  

Steven walked with me a hundred yards so that we were deeper in the park and further away from any prying ears of his immediate neighbors.  We stopped under the extended branches of an elm tree.  I crossed my arms over my chest and Steven put his hands in his pocket.

"I have news."

I laughed.  "Yeah, I got that part.  Spill it, Steven."

"Our mystery man is infatuated with you."

"As in Colton, the mystery man?"

"That's the one."

"Oh brother."

"He's trying to befriend me to learn more about you."

"What have you told him?" I asked.

"Nothing juicy."

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"Certainly.  There's nothing juicy about you to tell him," Steven said.  "You're in a rut, understandably, but I couldn't contrive good gossip about you if I tried, not at the moment at least."

"You might be right."

"Colton is begging me to somehow get the two of you together so there can be a fresh start.  He worries he made a bad impression on you during the race."

"He sure did."

"It's because he told me you make him nervous."

"Nuts."  I unfolded my arms and leaned my back against the trunk of the tree.  "I suppose you're going to tell me the two of you are now hooking up as part of this arrangement."

"I wish," Steven said.  "But you're his type, not me.  I already told you this when we were at the pavilion."

"I don't think of myself as a 'type,' okay?"

"Nobody does.  Isn't that a kick?  However, everyone is a type of one sort or another."

"It doesn't make any sense to me."

"I don't like labels, either.  We agree about that.  Fair enough?"

Steven proceeded to tell me much more about Colton.  I feigned disinterest, but asked for clarification on anything that didn't add up.  His story went something like this.  Colton had moved to our Rugged Heights neighborhood and rented a home with a one year lease.  He had been on the West Coast, working as a fashion model, and decided to take a year off to unwind in the suburbs and "get grounded again."  Colton had admitted to Steven that he was fooling around with several guys in our neighborhood, all of who identified themselves as straight, or perhaps bisexual and leaning straight, and he wasn't looking at forming anything serious with anyone.  Colton had apparently told him he just wanted to have fun, meet new people, and eventually make some decisions about his future.  Steven said he had pressed Colton about why he wasn't willing to consider intimacy with other gay men and Colton politely declined to answer his inquiry.

"So that's about it, Mike."  Steven looked at his watch.  "I have to hightail it now or I'll get stuck in the morning rush hour traffic."

"Mum's the word if Colton asks you anything more about me, okay?"

"You got it.  I won't say a peep."

#