"You plan to get a doctorate, too?"
"If the Masters doesn't kill me."
Stephen laughed, but Jay wasn't joking. Undergrad had been a breeze, but the relentless drag of academia was starting to wear him down. He was certain he'd have an ulcer by his twenty-fifth birthday. He wished he could go out like Stephen suggested. Just grabbing a pint of beer or sitting through a movie would probably be a good idea, but there was nothing more depressing than going out for a pint alone except for buying a single movie ticket. At least studying was meant to be a solitary activity.
"I really considered graduate school. I still might go some day. But I wanted a chance to live in the real world for awhile."
"Then why did you get a job on campus?"
"This was too good of an opportunity to pass up. It's not every day that you get the chance to work somewhere great doing something that matters."
He could tell Stephen really meant that. He felt that weird fluttering in his chest that he was coming to associate with Stephen instead of what Jay felt was his inevitable heart attack.
"That's fifteen."
Jay blinked in surprised and double-checked his watch. It was actually sixteen minutes. How had the time gone by so quickly? He felt winded, but not quite like he was dying. His legs didn't feel like rubber, either.
"How did you like our set on Wednesday? Did that work for you?"
"It worked fine." As far as Jay knew. It wasn't like he had anything to compare it against. He'd felt like death when he was finished, so it'd probably been a great set.
"Okay. But if you don't like something or you want to try something else, be sure to let me know."
Jay smiled a little. "Thanks. I will."
Stephen returned his smile before setting the proper weight on Jay's machine. That smile made all the hard work worth it. It was true that every muscle in his body strenuously objected to his new workout, but what did that matter when he got Stephen to himself for three hours a week?
"Do you know Auggie Lambert?" Stephen asked while Jay worked through his ten reps of chest presses.
"Yeah. He's a senior this year. Why?"
"I was just wondering. He's in the Center a lot, isn't he?"
"He is. I have his number because we were both on the same committee last semester. Do you want it?"
"I don't think I should."
"Why not?"
"It's probably not a good idea to get involved with the students. Especially not the undergrads."
"If it's an age thing, I think he's older than you."
"It's not. Not just that. I mean, you don't think it'd be a problem?"
Jay shrugged. "I don't see why it would be. He's a really nice guy, too. And I think you're his type."
Stephen snorted. "I'm everybody's type."
It could have sounded arrogant and obnoxious, but Jay knew exactly what Stephen meant. He was like the gay ideal from head to toe. Falling in love with a guy like Stephen was completely stereotypical, and Jay did feel a vague sense of guilt for being so damned predictable.
"Well, true, but I do think you and Auggie would hit it off. He might even be going out to Edge tonight."
Stephen shrugged. "Maybe I'll go around there tonight. Why don't you?"
"Why don't I what? Go to Edge? Like I said, I'm grading tonight."
Beyond that, the only thing Jay found more unpleasant and unnatural than the gym was a club. Working out left him exhausted and sore, but still it wasn't worse than the ego-bruising, soul-crushing experience that was the gay bar. His skinny, athletic, hot friends always had a great time buying each other drinks and drunkenly hooking up after the dancing was over. There was no room in the club culture for a guy like him, and unfortunately, that was the extent of the gay culture in Utah. At least for the under-thirty set.
"And like I said, you need to give yourself a break every once in awhile."
"I will."
"When?"
"During winter break."
"That doesn't count."
"It'll have to because that's when I'll have some free time to myself."
"That's fine. I'll just find a way to coax you out. Maybe there's somebody at the Center I could use for bait?"
His face was already flushed from the workout, so Stephen probably didn't notice the way Jay blushed at his comment. "I don't even have the time to have a crush on anybody."
"You really are devoted to school."
"Believe it or not, I used to be a much bigger nerd than this. I was actually King of the Nerds in high school."
"Then it's a good thing we didn't go to the same high school. You might have had a rival for the crown."
"You were a nerd?" Jay asked skeptically, moving to spot Stephen as he benched one hundred and fifty pounds. "I find that hard to believe."
"I guess you could say I was a bit of a late bloomer. I didn't start going to the gym regularly until my junior year in college. Before that I was all pale and scrawny. I even had these big thick glasses because my mom wouldn't let me have contacts."
Stephen easily lifted the weights overhead ten times before Jay took the bar from him and replaced it on the stand. "Are you sure you weren't a jock?"
Stephen chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sure. Do you know many jocks who had a perfect GPA?"
"I don't know many jocks in general, to be honest. So if it wasn't sports, what got you working out?"
"Honestly?" Stephen adjusted himself on the bench and grinned up at Jay. "I wanted to get laid. I think that's why guys do anything."
"That sounds about right." Was Stephen on to him? Had he been too obvious with his interest? If so, it wasn't necessarily the end of the world. Stephen could just be trying to tell him I know why you're here and that's cool but I'm more interested in guys like Auggie. That was fair. He no doubt figured Jay deserved to know where he stood. "I guess it must have worked."
"I can't even believe how much of a difference it made. When I start feeling lazy and I want to skip a week, I just remember the dry spell that lasted until I was twenty-one. That keeps me motivated."
Jay laughed without humor. Twenty-one wasn't so bad. Jay was going to be a twenty-five year old virgin with ulcers. But weight training had worked for Stephen--who was naturally handsome and lovely and wonderful. Even so, exercising certainly couldn't hurt his chances of finding somebody to fuck before he died.
Chapter 2
The sharp relief Jay felt at finally being home dissipated as soon as he opened the apartment door and saw Jeni sitting on his couch, her candy pink lips twisted in a mocking smile of welcome. "Well, there he is now."
"What are you doing here?" Jay asked, too tired to be polite.
"I heard you were working out. I had to come over here for myself to see."
"Look, I know you've probably been thinking of insults all afternoon, but I'm really not in the mood for it right now."
Jeni gasped in fake outrage. "What are you suggesting, Jay? That I don't have anything better to do except think of ways to insult you? I do have a life, you know."
"Do you? I've never seen any evidence of that."
"I'm taking Amy out to the Paper Moon tonight."
Jay's brows knitted together. "Amy? Amy!"
"What?" She hurried out of her room only half dressed, her full breasts nearly spilling out of her lacy cups. She never had any problem letting Jay see her half naked, and he couldn't figure out if she was a bit of an exhibitionist, or if he was just so entirely desexualized that it never occurred to her to be modest. "Is there a problem?"
"You're going out with Jeni?"
Amy glanced from him, to his mortal enemy, and then to him again. "Yes? Is there a problem with that?"
"What did I tell you?"
"Jay, look, I know what you said, but there's just not that many lesbians around here. I mean, I was going to end up dating her sooner or later."
"Didn't she tell you that I've been in love with her for the past two years?" Jeni asked sweetly.
"You shut u
p," Jay snapped. "Nobody asked you."
"I don't even know why you're so upset," Amy protested.
"I told you... "
"That happened years ago," Amy protested. "Plus, Jeni is sorry now. Aren't you, Jeni?"
Jay knew she wasn't. She wasn't even a little bit sorry, and she never would be. Why should she be sorry? That would be tantamount to admitting that she didn't love to make Jay the butt of her jokes. She was smirking at him again--she knew he knew what an unrepentant bitch she was.
"You two play nice. I have to finish getting dressed."
"Yeah, Jay. Place nice. Let the past stay in the past. Bygones be bygones, and all that." She patted the couch next to her. "Now, why don't you tell me all about the gym?"
Jay ignored her, hurrying to claim the bathroom before Amy decided she needed it for last second makeup emergencies.
"If you don't want to talk about the gym, we could always talk about Stephen."
Jay stopped. "Why would I want to talk about Stephen?"
"Isn't that why you're going to the gym? To make yourself pretty for him?"
Jay took a deep breath, his heart rate increasing, his legs tensing as his fight or flight instinct kicked in. He knew exactly how this conversation would go--well, it wouldn't be a conversation. It would just be an opportunity for Jeni to laugh at him for thinking, for ever thinking, that he was good enough for somebody like Stephen McNeil.
"It has nothing to do with him."
"Oh, but Amy said he's the reason you've gone three times this week. I just assumed you were trying to fuck him. Why else would you drag your ass all way to the gym?"
"We're working out together," Jay said tightly.
"But you want to do more than that with him, don't you? Hey, don't get all defensive. I'm just trying to have a conversation."
"About something that is none of your business."
"Are you going to go next week? Seriously now, Jay."
"Yes."
"No offense, but I'll believe it when I see it. Oh! Maybe I should see it."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's easy enough to prove if you're working out. Me and Amy can drop by on Monday to give you encouragement. We'll be your cheerleaders."
"No."
"Why not? What if I just move my regular work out time to... when? About five-thirty?"
"Do whatever you want to do, Jeni. I don't care."
"I'll talk to Stephen about it tomorrow some time."
Nothing could keep Jay from spending an hour with Stephen--except Jeni Jacobson. He'd once considered moving all the way to Wisconsin to get away from her, and now she was just popping up in his apartment like she owned the place and talking about Stephen like they were great personal friends. Was it too late to transfer to a school out of state? And if he did, would that mean she won?
"I don't care."
"Uh huh. Well, more power to you, then. I mean, I admire people with so much... determination."
She put just enough venom in the final word to sting his pride. Well, what was left of it. Having programmed most of Jay's buttons in elementary school, she certainly knew how to push them now. Retaliating wouldn't do any good. If he tried, her claws would come out, and she'd find the most vulnerable part of him to slice and flay. Instead of telling her to shove it up her ass, Jay made his escape, his pulse hammering. All he wanted to do was strip his clothes and climb into the shower to let the hot water pound on his sore muscles for the next hour. That was it. He'd had no greater plans or hopes than that. But now that was ruined. Whether he stayed under the water for fifteen minutes or two hours, it'd all be the same miserable thing. He hated that the sight of Jeni was powerful enough to ruin his entire day, but she'd infected him with her toxin when they were kids, and he saw her on campus just enough to poke at those wounds until they flared with pain again. Amy, being his roommate and his best friend, fucking knew that. Were they dating now? Could he expect to see Jeni sitting on his couch two or three times a week?
He would move before he put up with that. He'd live in a cardboard box in Pioneer Park with the rest of the bums before he voluntarily tolerated Jeni invading his own home. It was bad enough that he had to see her occasionally at the Center. The image of Jeni and Stephen laughing with each other slapped him across the face, and he realized it was an inevitability. I can't even imagine what Jay is like at the gym. Is it as hilarious as I think it must be? Then Stephen would grin at the memory of Jay huffing and puffing and admit it was probably more hilarious than Jeni expected.
I'll talk to him about it tomorrow. What did that mean? Why did she see Stephen on Saturdays? Were they on some planning committee? It wouldn't be too difficult to find out what meetings were happening on campus, but that might look a little too much like stalking. Jay could justify following Stephen to the gym, but tracking down Jeni just to make sure the two of them didn't actually talk was just a step too far. Maybe it wasn't some sort of meeting. Maybe they were actually friends. Jeni wasn't a first class bitch all of the time. She couldn't have been because she did actually have friends, and she was quite popular. If she were straight, she'd be called a slut to her face. Could lesbians be sluts? He supposed it was technically possible. They could definitely be bitches, as Jeni proved every single day of her life.
Jay wanted to say that Stephen wasn't like that, but everybody was like that on some level. Jay understood the humor inherent in the situation, he just wished somebody would take him seriously instead of see him as the butt of the joke. And people should take him seriously. If academic achievement and publications counted for anything in the club scene, Jay would have his pick of partners. But nobody cared if he'd published his first article while he was still an undergrad, or if he'd been invited to speak at several conferences in the past year, or that his students always showed consistent and even radical improvement.
He peeled his sweaty clothes off, tossed them into the hamper, and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. The water burned the back of his hand as he tested the temperature, but that was exactly the way he liked it. Steam quickly gathered in the small room, billowing up around him and partially obscuring his reflection. He studied himself through the thickening air, trying to imagine defined muscles in place of the flab, stretch marks, and acne scars. How could any amount of working out change the basic reality of his body? Even if he somehow managed to lose the weight, he'd still have scars on his shoulders and a mole on his chest that almost looked like a third nipple, and random sprouts of long, thick hair.
Jay stroked his cock, pulling the skin up over the head and then sliding his palm back, revealing every inch of his shaft. He knew enough from porn and random locker room talk that his cock was perfectly normal, and maybe even better than normal. He lost the genetic lottery in a lot of ways, but he was actually rather blessed in that area. It was only too bad that nobody would take his word for it. He was sure there were several gay men of his acquaintance who would quite enjoy playing with his cock, but it didn't do to think about that too much since he would never know. It was a little ironic, considering he might as well not have a cock at all.
The water burned him when he stepped under the steady spray, but Jay didn't adjust the temperature. Maybe if he had it hot enough, it would scald away the aches and pains, the sweat and stink of humiliation. He couldn't even remember if he'd been optimistic about working out with Stephen. Jeni had completely obliterated all of that. He hated that she had so much power over him, but it would probably take years of serious therapy to undo all the destruction and damage she'd done in the past fifteen years. Of course, never seeing her again would be the most appropriate first step in his recovery, but that wasn't likely to happen.
He soaped himself down twice, paranoid about the sweat clinging to his skin. He didn't want to inadvertently contribute to the stereotype of fat people smelling worse than the general population. Jay couldn't even remember when and how this paranoia began, but he'd had the same shower routine for most of his life
. Probably at least since puberty. Once he rinsed off the second round of soap, he didn't linger too long in the shower. It was getting difficult to breathe in the thick steam, and his skin had turned as red and tight as a tomato.
By the time he emerged from bathroom, the apartment was empty. Jay sighed with relief and went directly to his room, ignoring his computer in favor of his bed and the stack of books on the side waiting for his attention. He flipped through a half dozen of them, but he saw Stephen's name on every page, the letters breaking apart and rearranging themselves until each mark on the paper bore the reminder of Jay's obsession, and he knew he wasn't going to get anything accomplished.
He promised himself he would get work done if he turned on his laptop, but he navigated directly to Craigslist. He scanned through the personals, finding the standard messages. He was pretty sure there were about two dozen men who just posted the same thing over and over, complete with the same pictures. Did they keep posting because they'd had so much success, or because they were just ridiculously optimistic?
Jay had mentally composed his own ad many times. Something along the lines of Horny, safe bottom looking to suck cock tonight. Not the cleverest ad, but it would probably attract a few responses at least, from gay and ostensibly straight men alike. If he only wanted to give a few blow jobs, it wouldn't matter what he looked like or if the person was attracted to him. It would be about sex, pure and simple. Jay didn't like the thought of random, anonymous hookups. The thought of sucking a stranger's cock and then disappearing without even exchanging names didn't sit right with him, and so even though the option had always been there, Jay couldn't quite bring himself to do it.
But it was still an option. And Jay was so frustrated, so starved for any contact that wasn't just incidental that it was an option that looked increasingly attractive. If he didn't want to die a virgin while waiting for the perfect guy--who, he now knew, did exist--then the only option became the best option by default. If he sucked some stranger's cock, would he still technically be a virgin? It might seem silly, but he didn't want to lose his virginity to a stranger if he could help it. Not that he'd had such great luck with people he knew.
Pisces: From Behind That Locked Door Page 2