The Hartford Huskies were not the Binghamton Broncos. They didn’t wait for us to get a substantial lead in the win column before they showed their canines. They came out in game one fangs bared and hackles raised. Junkyard dogs every last one of them. It took the men by surprise, even though the coaching staff had warned them to not grow complacent. The first game in Hartford was a disaster, filled with turnovers and foolish rookie moves by seasoned vets.

Game two was a much better outing. We took them into overtime with only one goal apiece, and then one of our defensemen socked in an ugly goal from the blue line that somehow rolled up and over the Huskies goalie. It was not a slick goal, and it would not make any highlight reels, but it got us a win. Now we were heading back home with things all tied up.

I had my nose buried in a good thriller when Mitch sat down beside me. I gave the young goalie a sideways sort of smile. He smiled back. I stared at him over the top of my glasses, waiting for him to say what it was he wanted to say.

“Dan said that you’re confused about your sexuality.”

“He what?”

“Well, he didn’t come right out and tell me. I kind of overheard him and Coach K. talking when I walked past Coach Kalinski’s office door. Not that I was eavesdropping! But well, you know Coach K., he’s kind of got one volume setting and it’s loud.”

“Yeah, I know that.” I shut my book with a snap. It was a hardcover, so it made a sharp crack, which felt good. Damn gossiping bitty hens. “Do you men have nothing better to do then sit around like a clutch of old women at a church social? Like, oh I don’t know, studying game film to see where y’all are messing up?”

“Oh sure, we do that too. But there are only a few of us here who are rainbow people. I used to think I was straight. Like for a long time I only… did it with girls.” He shifted in his seat, his face pink with embarrassment. “But then Shaun kissed me, and it was like POW! and who I was changed forever. I couldn’t not think about him, the kiss, and did that make me gay? It was super confusing for me, because girls were still making me twitchy but not guys, aside from Shaun. It was only Shaun. Like, how weird is that? We’re together now, me and Shaun, and it’s super good and so you should not worry over things, and just kiss whoever makes you happy.”

I stared at him for the longest time. This kid, who spent all of his time either on the ice or watching cartoons, had just educated a man twice his age. Sure, I’d heard the same speech from Dan—who I was going to throttle for his loose lips—but Mitch’s youthful exuberance certainly sold his speech.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I smiled at him. He got up, flashed me a grin, and then went back to his seat with Sander.

I no sooner opened my book than someone else was dropping their ass next to me. Did the empty seat with the coat on it not mean the same thing to other people then it did to me? The coat meant that seat was saved. For me. I wasn’t a talker when I was travelling. I liked to read, maybe nap, or listen to some music. If I’d known where my earbuds were I’d have been neck deep in The Allman Brothers.

“I hear that you’re getting advice from all the knuckleheads on the team,” Victor said. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’ll make it really simple for you. Fuck anyone who looks good to you.”

With that, he stood up and walked back to sit with Dan.

“Well, that certainly would make things much simpler,” I muttered and opened my book.

“Hey, Coach?” Mario said from behind me, reaching over to rap the top of my head with his knuckles. I tossed my book to the seat beside me, rose, turned around, and knelt on my seat so that I could give McGarrity and his kilt a glower.

“Thank you in advance for your advice. I do know that you’re living with a transsexual woman and that you identify as bisexual. And I am all kinds of thrilled for you and yours, but I am not seeking the story of every player’s search for their sexual self-awareness. I will navigate these murky waters by myself. So, thank you ever so much for all your stories but I’m full up!”

The whole team stared.

Mario blinked up at me. “I just wanted some gum.”

“Oh.” I dug into my pants pocket, pulled out a packet of peppermint gum, tossed it to him, and then sat, my face felt redder than a beet pickle. I hid inside my book for the rest of the ride to Cayuga.

I glanced to the right. Again. Smiled. Again. Sighed like a schoolgirl. Again. Town caught me every time I snuck a peek, his brown eyes twinkling.

“You’re the handsomest navigator I’ve ever had,” I told him as I drove my trusty Subaru along back roads that sliced though massive vineyards, our destination the Randy Rooster Winery in beautiful Hector, New York.

“You say that now, but when I get us lost you’ll be singing a different tune,” he said, his eyes flicking from the map neatly laid out on his lap to the intersection we were approaching. “You’ll want to make a left here.”

I nodded, slowed to a stop, and let a tractor pulling a wagon filled with people chug past before I made the turn. A stiff wind off Seneca Lake blew through the window, grabbing the map. Town had a small battle with the paper that ended with him the victor.

“I’m not one to tout technology since I can barely attach a picture to an email, but is there a reason why you fuss with a paper map when we can just use GPS?” I asked as we drove down a long country lane thick with trees and tiny bits of fluff floating in the sunbeams that wiggled through the leaves.

“My father demanded that I know how to read a map. His reasoning being that phones go dead, or you lose service.” He folded the map and held it to his thigh. A thigh that was bared a few inches above the knee. I did love shorts on a man.

“Makes sense,” I steered us into a soft bend and saw the sign along the road announcing we were a half-mile from the winery.

“It does. He’s practical like that. Also, I wanted to impress you with my astute navigational skills, so I busted out the map.”

I smiled and gave him a quick peek. “Consider me highly impressed.” He bowed his head in thanks and then shoved the map back into the glovebox. “Course you don’t have to work too hard to impress me. I’m already smitten.”

His lips curved into a sweet, sinful smile. “The feeling is quite mutual.”

I felt flushed, despite the beautiful weather we’d been blessed with—bright sun, low humidity, fat cotton ball clouds.

“I best mind the road,” I tossed out, then chuckled, to hopefully break the sensual fog that had filled my head. Town reached over to pat my leg. His hand stayed on my knee until we were parked and had shared a giddy kiss.

I did a complete spin after exiting the car. Seneca Lake, another one of the Finger Lakes, sat just a mile or so away, the rolling hills that buffeted the water rich and green. There were grape vines as far as the eye could see. The winery itself was beautiful. Big, welcoming buildings including a tasting room and a store where one could buy all the Randy Rooster wine one wished. I planned to go home with several bottles.

Hand-in-hand, we followed the small signs directing us to the store. A young woman in a red apron with the big white rooster emblem on it greeted us. We bought our tour tickets, which included a wine tasting at the end. The store shelves were filled with wine, glasses, trinkets, and souvenirs. Town had to pull me out so that we could catch the next tour wagon. Joining several older couples and a small bus group, we sat side-by-side in the open wagon, smiling at each other, fingers meshed, as the tractor came to life and pulled off, the wagon rumbling along in its wake.

The ride lasted over an hour and took us through some of the vineyards, as well as by the lake. Our tour guide was a perky young man who filled us in on how the Finger Lakes—named such because the eleven lakes ran nearly parallel and resembled long fingers—had been formed by glaciers carving out old stream valleys. I learned that Cayuga and Seneca Lake had bottoms well below sea level. Then the guide went on to explain how the deep lakes in the region are part of a microclimate, and that most wineries are on hilly terrain near lakes which provide good drainage, favorable sun exposure, and reduced risk of frost. The views were breathtaking. Town and I held hands the entire time. I felt light as air, bubbly, and slightly tipsy even though we’d not even gotten to the wine tasting yet. The tractor dropped us off outside the Randy Rooster store where other people were waiting to climb into the refurbished hay wagon. Our guide led us inside the store, and then down into the wine cellars, showing us shiny new vats as well as old oaken barrels that held aging dry reds and chardonnays.

After the cellar tour, we were taken back upstairs and out to the tasting barn. The walls had been knocked out, and the roof replaced with old timbers. Half barrels filled with flowers were beside every thick old post holding up the roof. Long folding tables and chairs awaited us. Town and I sat with two older couples, who smiled warmly at us and chatted away as our tiny little cups of wine were filled with the various flavors of the white wines Randy Rooster offered. Then we were presented with the reds. After each taste, we took a sip of water. Town and I much preferred the sweeter reds to the tart whites. Crackers and cheese were placed on the tables, and we were given order forms to fill in, if we so desired, as we nibbled. We decided to place one order and he could just buy me dinner on the way home.

“Get a bottle of the cherry.” Town leaned over my shoulder to supervise my box-checking. “Oh, and grab me one of the blackberry. Did you like the peach?”

“I think so. I’ll get a peach and a blueberry. I better stock in some white, though, Betty enjoys a nice Riesling.” I went along ticking boxes, enjoying Town’s warm body pressed to my side.

“Is your ex-wife coming to visit?”

I glanced from the wine list to my date. He wasn’t upset, by the looks, just curious.

“I think so.” I laid down the pencil we’d been provided with and placed a hand on the order form, lest the wind off the lake blow it away. “I may have made the mistake of telling Betty about us.” His eyebrows flew up. “I know, I was just…well, I was over the moon after our dinner last Sunday and she called and, hell, it just gushed out of me. I hope you’re not too mad.”

He gave me a light kiss on the nose. “I’m not mad. I’m thrilled that I made you gush.”

“You do. Every time I think about you I gush. That sounded dirty…” Town chortled. “Anyway, she told the kids and now they all want to meet you. I was waiting for the confirmation call that they’d booked flights before I told you. No need to get your tail in a kink if they didn’t show.”

“They all want to meet me?!” His shock was evident, as was his worry. His brow furrowed instantly.

“They don’t have to if you don’t want to. Lord knows I’m not thrilled to foist my family onto you after only two dates. Please, just say so and I’ll explain to them that—”

“No, no, it’s fine. I was just unprepared. I’d like to meet them, your kids.” He recovered quickly I had to give him that. Must be all that political training of his.

“And my ex-wife? How do you feel about that?” I glanced from Town to our tablemates. The two couples seated with us seemed quite interested in our conversation. Probably, they were trying to work out how an obvious queer like me could have an ex-wife and kids. “Why don’t we go for a walk and finish this talk?”

I pocketed the order list, stood up, and offered Town my hand. He got to his feet as well. We wished the old folks a fine day, linked hands, and strolled off. I led him to a nice little spot under a massive oak where we could look at Seneca Lake and let the winds off her choppy surface blow up and over us.

“So, Betty?” I nudged him a bit.

His lips flattened. “Okay, I’m a little nervous about the ex-wife. That sounds kind of awkward.”

I slid an arm around his waist, his solid frame snug to mine. “She’s not your usual ex. She’s incredibly happy for me, for us.” I waved a hand to indicate him and I. “With us dating, not that we’re a committed thing or such. Hell, this is a pot full of peppers.”

He turned to face me, his hands coming to my hips. “I think we can say that we’re dating. We are on a date, and I’m hoping we can go on others. Does that freak you out?”

“Hell no! I’m signed up for as many dates as I can get. All I do is think about you, about how you make me feel, and how I long to make you feel the same for me.”

“Kiss me.”

I was happy to oblige. I cupped his adorable face and pressed my lips to his. We licked into each other’s mouths, the taste of wine lingering on his tongue. I inched him back to the tree, our mouths sealed, the crisp smell of water and wind, and rich fertile soil wrapping around us.

“Wow,” he panted when we broke apart. I still held his face in my hands, my dick was hard and hot and pressed close against his. He gripped my sides, keeping my cock and his aligned.

“Yes, wow. I am crushing on you so hard right now. Let’s go buy some wine, get an early dinner, and go back to my place. I have this big old glider on my back porch and I bet the sunset over Cayuga Lake will be something to see.”

“I’m in!” He kissed me quickly. I released his face and stepped back. “Let’s just admire the lake for a few minutes so we won’t shock everyone.”

“Good idea.” We stood there, shoulder-to-shoulder, erections straining against our zippers, for about fifteen minutes. It took me forever to go soft, what with the man so close. Finally, we were presentable, and we ambled back to the store, bought ten bottles of wine between the two of us, and made our way to my car, bottles clattering as we jostled the box into the back seat.

“You okay to drive?” Town asked before we slid into the car.

“Yep, I’m good. You had just as much as me,” I pointed out. His sweet mouth pulled downward. “I’m fine, honestly. We’ll just go as far as that little diner we passed before we turned in here. I’ll grab some tea and something to eat. It’ll be fine.”

“There was a diner?” He ran his hand over his short hair.

God above, the man was too cute.

“Small one, sign out front said they had meatloaf dinner on special.”

“Huh, guess I was too busy navigating and admiring the driver to see it.” He pulled his door open and sat down. I did the same. “Seriously though, if you’re not okay to drive, we can just sit here for a bit. I can’t be arrested or involved in a DUI.”

“Town, I am fine. I had maybe one glass total, if that. I will not get you arrested. Scout’s honor.” I crossed my heart.

Some of the stress left his face. When we pulled into the tiny eatery with the meatloaf special, he exhaled theatrically. “I worry too much. I know,” he said while we unbuckled.

“Nope, you do not,” I replied, pushing up and out of the car, then turning to look at him over the roof. “Your career and good name are important to you. As is mine. I know myself, Town. Trust me, I will never do anything that puts you or your reputation in harm.”

He smiled weakly. “I think I know that deep down, I just stew at times. My family calls me Worrisome Willy. Let’s go eat meatloaf.”

I walked around the car and offered him my hand. He slid his palm over mine and that flock of hummingbirds in my belly erupted again. Yes, I was beyond smitten. I was besotted and absolutely twitterpated.

We ate in a rush, gulping down our food and tea that I had to sweeten myself. What kind of uncivilized society were we living in where people did not sweeten tea before serving it to the masses? Yankees, I swear.

Town was visibly more relaxed on the ride home, chatting away about his love of basketball and old chiller-thriller movies. We pulled into my driveway around six p.m. Toting a box of wine, I backed into my house after unlocking the door. Town followed me in, his eyes moving over the barren walls and dull furnishings.

“I know it’s pretty typical bachelor, but I’m just not here enough to really care about decorating. Maybe during the summer I can spiff it up a bit. What kind shall I open?” I shouted over my shoulder, as I lugged our purchases into the kitchen.

“Surprise me,” he called. I pulled out a pretty pink rosé and popped the cork. Grabbing two wine glasses, I then hustled back out to find Town admiring the tiny broom sitting on my mantle. “And you said you don’t decorate,” he teased.

“That there is my first prized possession. Let’s go sit on the glider.” I led him out back. He closed the sliding door behind him and we both took a seat. “Here you are.” He took the wine glass I offered. I filled his glass about halfway and then poured myself some.

“Mm, this is good. Fruity and flowery,” Town remarked, swirling his wine gently. I took a sip and had to agree. “My grandmother used to call rosé wine ‘summer water’ for some odd reason. She wasn’t a wine drinker though, she liked three fingers of scotch with two ice cubes. Drank one of them a day until she passed at ninety-eight.”

“Bless her heart,” I replied in a kindly manner. We sat back with our wine after we removed our shoes. The lake was calm, the winds settling as night approached. “What do you think of the view?”

“Stunning,” he sighed, his long toes wiggling. I slid my foot over and touched his pinky toe with mine. “You were right, it’s pretty open, though. We’ll have to keep our personal displays to toe caressing until it gets dark.”

“I can do that,” I said, draping my arm around his wide shoulders. We played footsie, sipped pink wine, and talked until the sun set in the west. A million stars now twinkled over our heads. I pointed out several boats, their running lights reflected on the dark surface of the water.

Town turned to me as I was running off about reading the Rime of the Ancient Mariner in college. He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, then kissed me hard. I moved into him, twisting on the glider as our resident loons called back and forth, seeking each other in the night. The male loon’s tremolo was chilling and beautiful all at once.

“Tell me if I move too fast.” His hand rested on my upper thigh. I pulled his mouth back to mine, sucking on his tongue as he massaged my leg. That wasn’t what I needed though, and I dug my heel into the floorboards, trying to move his hand by moving the swing.

“What do you want?” he breathed into my mouth, his fingertips a mere inch from my throbbing cock.

“Touch me,” I huffed, yanking his rosé-sweetened mouth back to mine. Touch me he did, after he took our glasses and set them on the porch. He palmed my cock outside my shorts, stroking the ridge of my dick, as our tongues tangled, and the night sounds began to filter in. A cricket here, the buzz of a mosquito, the flicker of my bug-light snapping on. “Stop touching me. Stop.”

He pulled his hand away and sat back, breaking the kiss. “Too much? Too fast?”

“Too close,” I panted, my heels tight to the patio, my hands still resting on his head.

“You want me to get you off?”

“Yes, yes, ah hell yes…”

“Then close your eyes and enjoy.” He kissed a path from my mouth to the corner of my eye, and then returning to my neck, nuzzling into that tender spot under my ear. I let my head fall back, my gaze blurred with lust, I caught the dark shape of a small brown bat emerging from his daytime hiding spot. Town’s teeth grazed my neck, moving down to my clavicle as he worked on the zipper of my shorts. I grunted when the zipper gave way and his hand, warm and seeking, slid into my underwear.

“Yes, Townsend, yes.” That was all I seemed able to say. He made soft little noises, whispered tender things into my flesh, and then slipped those long, calloused fingers around my cock. “Shit!” I nearly flew off the glider, the jolt was that intense. His grip was firm. I pumped into his fist, eager for the release, desperate for it…

“Come for me.” He lapped a hot wet trail back to my mouth, then sucked in my cry of pleasure when I came. My body seized up, my hips bucked wildly, and he swallowed every yelp and whimper, pumping me fast, twisting his hand over the head, working the hot spunk into my skin as he kissed me back into the glider. I clung to him, to his scalp, shudders rolling through me until, ragged breath after ragged breath, my body began to settle. His lips left mine. I gasped and pulled in several huge breaths, then brought his lips to mine as he slowly milked me out.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice throaty with need.

“I cannot recall my name,” I joked, my thoughts sloppy. “That was good, so good. So damn good.”

“Sit here, let me go grab some paper towels.” He pressed a kiss to my swollen lips then rose, the glider slewing forward to counter his missing weight. My neck was incapable of holding my head up any longer. It dropped back to the seat, and I stared at the sky and the bat bobbing and weaving in front of the moon. “Here.”

I forced my head up smiled weakly and took the wad of paper towels, wiping off my dick and pubes, thankful for the darkness of night. It hid the heat in my cheeks. I tucked and zipped, then shoved the paper towels into my front pocket. I’d throw them out later. Town reached for me, fingers curling around the back of my neck. I went to him enthusiastically, plastering my mouth to his, greedily sliding a hand up under his shirt. He sat back, his fingers gripping on the nape of my neck, his tongue stroking mine in a steady rhythm.

I let my hand roam over his belly, it was firm, covered with crisp hair that sent a sizzling surge of desire through me.

“I haven’t felt like this since I was fourteen and got my first look at Parker Stevenson in old reruns of the Hardy Boys Mysteries,” I confessed raggedly, finding a nipple and tweaking it gently. Town hissed and writhed.

“What’s happening here sure isn’t a mystery,” he tossed out. I laughed and kissed him hard, letting my hand slip out of his shirt and settle on his crotch. His cock sat hot and stiff under my hand. “I want you so bad I can’t think straight.”

I rubbed the stiff ridge with the heel of my hand. He groaned roughly. Feeling way more sexually assertive than I could ever recall, I slid off the swing, my knees settling on the floorboards. Turning on one knee, I gently pried his legs apart and moved between them.

“What are you up to, Lan?” he asked, the question rushing out of him.

“Well, I think I’m going to give you some relief with my mouth, if you don’t object?”

He snorted and reached for his fly, the sound of his zipper all the reply that was needed. “I will never object to you asking to suck my dick. I’m negative and take PrEP, just so you know. Do you want a condom?”

This talk had not even entered my mind, shame on me. “Should I use a condom? I’ve not done much of this.”

His fingers carded through my hair. “Relax, it’s all fine. When you say not done much, exactly what is ‘much’?”

“Well, I went to a gay club twice in Augusta after I moved out of my house,” I replied, the need to touch him overwhelming. If nothing else, I could get him off with my hand. His cock kicked when I touched it. Mine began to stir a bit.

“Bet they loved you,” he sighed, his blocky body turning to pudding. He melted back into the glider as I took him in hand, pulling him through the slit in his boxers. “That DILF lure and that drawl? Mm-mm-mm.”

“This drawl you like so much don’t stand out much in Augusta.” I bent over to taste him, just the tip of his cock. It was slick with pre-cum. I licked it off, the taste of another man on my tongue spurring me to suck on the fat head with real vigor.

“Okay, guess we’re skipping a condom,” he groaned, lifting his ass an inch or so. “Hell, you need to slow down…”

“Why?” I wanted more of his taste on my tongue. I wanted him to come down my throat. My dick was plumping up again. Amazing. I’d never felt this kind of enthusiasm for sex before, and it was kind of running away with me, as if I were fourteen instead of forty-one. “Oh, never mind I asked that.”

“Kneel there just like that, yeah, nice.” He took my jaw in his hand, resting my bottom lip against his prick, then fisted his cock, pumping it hard and fast. “Now flick your tongue out…catch it when it…damn, damn!”

One hand on his dick, the other holding my chin, he shot his load into my mouth and lips, the warm spunk splashing over my tongue. I swallowed and cleaned my lips, using my fingers to gather the cum dripping off my face, then sucking my fingers clean. He kept tugging, each spurt on my lips I hungrily lapped up. His spunk tasted different than mine, sweeter and a little saltier. I liked it. A lot.

He led my mouth to his, sliding his tongue across my lips then diving deep. I crawled up onto the glider, my knees popping like green wood on a hot fire. I sat down roughly, pulling him over and onto me. The glider groaned under us, the weight of two on one end, making the other end rise precariously into the air. Town yelped and threw himself back to my left in a hurry.

I chortled a bit, my lips finding his in the darkness. “I can’t get enough of you,” I whispered into his mouth.

“You want more?” There the invitation was. And it was everything a man could want. But I felt myself ease away internally. Town must have felt my uncertainty as well. “Hey, it’s okay to say no or not right now. Trust me, I will wait for you, Lancaster Hart. And if this is all we ever do, then that’s fine as well. I want you to trust me.”

“I do, I do, honestly I just…hell, I don’t know what it is with me.” He pulled me to his side, tucking my head down to his shoulder. “I sometimes wonder if my upbringing has scarred me in some manner.”

“Maybe it’s just how you’re wired. Maybe you just need more before you can give yourself fully. Could be you just need that deep emotional connection.” He wiggled around, tucking himself back into his boxers, but leaving his fly down.

I stared out at the lake, wishing I could spy the loons. “I thought coming out was rough.”

“Mm, well, stop worrying over what you are or what society says you have to do.” He toyed with the shell of my ear. “There really isn’t a thing wrong with waiting and growing closer before you give someone such an intimate part of yourself.”

His words were comforting. Maybe he was right. Perhaps it didn’t matter so much what my label was as long as I was living my own honest life. I gave a tiny bit of my heart to him that night and suspected he’d have possession of it all before snow flew.