by Sam Lollar
“That means another gay man. Judy Garland’s a big icon of gay men. Since she played Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, we say we’re all friends of Dorothy’s. At least I think that’s where the phrase comes from. Come to think of it, I’m not a hundred percent sure, myself.”
“So, are you going to call him?”
“You’re damn right I am. I wouldn’t pass this up for the world.”
After we got home, the ladies suggested we go out to the Hollywood Bowl. A friend of theirs was performing and had begged them to come. We were invited to an after-performance extravaganza at one of the area hotels. I was excited, to say the least. Now I knew why Miss LuLu (or was it Miss Ruby?) had gotten me a tuxedo as part of my new wardrobe. Despite its off-the-rack quality, it fit nicely.
Before we left to get a quick bite to eat prior to heading to the show, Scott dialed Mark’s number. Mark wasn’t there, but Scott left a message.
Dinner was unspectacular. Everyone but me wanted to go out and get burgers at some drive-in place. They thought hamburgers and tuxedoes would be Bohemian, but since that’s the only restaurant I had been used to my whole life, I was none too excited. But we made quite a sight in the Rolls, with everyone dressed up. Being careful not to get mustard or ketchup on ourselves, we gobbled down the burgers and fries.
We then drove to the Bowl, parked in a preferred parking spot, and entered the amphitheater. Miss Ruby had season tickets, so we were very near the stage. The performance was wonderful. I had never heard an opera before, but I fell in love with the glorious voices. The lead soprano was Miss Ruby’s friend.
After the performance, Scott drove to the hotel where the party was being held. The valet parked the Rolls while we entered the lobby. The soprano appeared about a half hour after we arrived.
Seeing Miss Ruby, she ran over. “Ruby. Ruby darling. I was so hoping you’d come. And LuLu. I barely recognized you. You look so refreshed and healthy. Where have you been hiding? Everyone’s just been going crazy looking for you. Your men friends are just furious. I know Bugsy’s out of town, so you don’t have to fear running into him tonight.”
“I know, Dorothy. I checked before coming tonight. If he had been here, there would have been no way in hell I would have shown up,” Miss LuLu said.
The three women chatted briefly before Dorothy was whisked away by more of her friends. I was totally dazzled by the number of celebrities I recognized from TV or the movies or records. Many came over to chat with Miss Ruby and Miss LuLu. They introduced us to everyone. More than a few men stared at me, lust evident in their eyes. I felt like a T-bone steak in front of a pack of dogs. But they were all perfect gentlemen and merely shook my hand. One older man slipped his phone number into my hand when I shook his. I put it in my pocket, not knowing what else to do with it.
“Look, Isaac. It’s the two guys we met on the road this afternoon.”
I glanced up and saw Mark from the Corvette that afternoon. “Hi, guys,” Scott said. “Fancy meeting you in a place like this.”
“Yeah, it’s a small world all right. Come on over here. Let’s get a drink and get better acquainted.”
As the two women had wandered off with their friends, we were relieved to have someone to talk to. We followed them over to the bar, and got drinks. I just had a soda. We began having a really nice conversation. Mark’s companion was actually his younger brother, in town on vacation from his university back east. Scott sorted out our relationship for the men, and we became fast friends.
“I actually called you this evening,” Scott said, “and left our phone number.”
“Well, I’ll just have to wait till I get home before I can call you, I guess,” Mark quipped. “How long are you guys here, Aaron?”
“Just for two weeks. Scott’s been showing me the sights so far.”
“I’ll just bet. Where all have you been?”
I mentioned Muscle Beach and the various cultural centers we had been to. “Don’t forget the gay bar, Aaron,” Scott said.
I blushed at this, since no one had actually said that anyone was homosexual. I was about ready to die of embarrassment.
“Which one?” was all Mark asked.
I had no idea what it was called, but Scott told him.
“Was it any good? Were there any hot guys out at that time of the day?”
“Yeah, there were. I was surprised to see so many men out during the daytime,” I said.
“Oh, you know the big city. Nothing ever closes, and there’s always one shift or another getting off duty. You probably got the medical crowd. They generally change shifts at three,” Mark said.
I was amazed at that statement, like they had a calendar of events posted so they knew who was doing what throughout the day.
“Well, Aaron? Were there any heartthrobs that caught your fancy today?” Mark asked.
“I saw some really good-looking guys out, I’ll say that.”
“Aaron’s a bit reticent to commit himself. He’s trying to remain pure for his ‘boyfriend’ back home,” Scott said.
“Oh, so Aaron’s got a beau, huh? And here I was hoping the two of us could get much better acquainted. What say, Aaron? Are you saving yourself for Mr. Wonderful back home?”
I got so flustered to hear such talk I lost the ability to speak. I stood there with my mouth open while Scott and Mark talked about me like I was a horse one of them was purchasing. I remember thinking, If Scott has me show him my teeth, I’m walking out of here.
The conversation continued in that vein for the rest of the evening, as Mark and his brother stayed with us the entire time. I don’t think his brother spoke a word, and I only spoke when asked a direct question. As the party neared its end, Mark and Scott decided the four of us would go out the next day and do the town. That sounded a bit adventurous, but I was eager to see Mark again. I was learning what raging hormones meant. We drove home about one, tired but buzzed from the excitement of the affair. Again, we took a dip in the pool when we got home, the ladies sipping drinks on the verandah. I was beginning to like this and thought the idea of being a kept woman wasn’t so bad.
Chapter Twenty-two
A Bentley in Beige
Scott and Mark had decided to go to Disneyland that day, and we wanted to get an early start on things. Mark called to set up a meeting time for us. When Scott told him where we were staying, Mark said, “Hey, we’re just up the street from you guys. Why don’t I come and get you?”
“Do you think we’ll all fit in the Corvette?” Scott asked.
“Nonsense, I’ll drive the Bentley instead. We could get an army in that thing. Come to think of it, I’ve probably had an army in the backseat of that car over the last few months.”
When they arrived, off we went in their wonderful beige Bentley. I finally got to talk with Mark’s brother, Isaac. He was set to graduate with a master’s in the spring, so was quite a bit ahead of me in his education. Still, we had common ground to talk about.
We found a decent parking place at Disneyland and wandered through the gates into the park. It was captivating. We had great fun. We did all the rides and walked around everywhere. On one of the quieter rides, Mark and I were in one car while Scott and Isaac were in another. Mark quietly put his arm around me and squeezed my shoulder. He leaned over and quietly whispered in my ear. “Why don’t we go someplace, just the two of us?”
I was dumbstruck. Here I was, in Disneyland of all places, feeling like a kid, and I’m propositioned by an absolutely gorgeous television star. I didn’t know what to say.
“That was a bit sudden, wasn’t it?” he admitted. “But you’re only going to be here for two weeks, and I really would like to get to know you better. Don’t worry, you can remain pure for Mr. Wonderful back in Bumfuck, Texas.”
“Don’t worry about my purity,” I said, miffed. “I can see to it that it stays the way I want. What makes you think that I’d want to get to know you better anyway?”
“Ow. That smarts. I thought everyone w
anted to get to know me,” he said jokingly. “Wherever I go, women or men throw themselves at me. I must admit that I take the guys up on their offers quite often. So I guess I’m surprised at you. I like you, Aaron. You say what’s on your mind, all right. Wouldn’t you like to get to know me better?”
“Sure, I would,” I said, “but getting to know someone seems more and more to be an invitation to hit the sheets. And I don’t like that.”
“Oh, come on. Guys our age generally have the hots for any guy that breathes. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to go to bed with me.”
“Of course I would, but I’d feel like a cheap slut sleeping my way around the country. It’s just not how I do things.”
“Why not let your hormones rule your logical mind for a while and have some fun? Besides, what’s wrong with being a cheap slut? An expensive slut doesn’t have nearly as much fun.”
The conversation continued in the same vein until the ride ended. I had agreed to go out with him, just the two of us, for dinner one night soon.
We left Disneyland late in the afternoon, so we went back to our houses to clean up and change for dinner. Formal again. Back at Miss Ruby’s place, I decided to walk around for a while to mull over the blatant sexual invitations. I was trying not to feel like the best thing since indoor plumbing, but it was hard to keep centered with all this sexuality in the air. I had never thought of myself as a particularly sexual being. Everyone in high school avoided me because I was so weird. In the university, things began to change. I was making friends. I had always been in relatively good shape because of track at school, but I started paying more attention to my grooming. My mother said I finally decided to blossom, but the idea that I was attractive was still a foreign concept to me. I still thought of myself as that weird kid in high school.
Trying to integrate this sexual self with my previous self-image was not proving easy to do. On one hand, I felt like I was going to explode if I didn’t have sex, but I didn’t want to feel used, passed from man to man like my friend had been. He always told me men only wanted to see you till they had sex with you, then they were through with you. I didn’t want that at all. That’s why I was so confused with Rick. He kept saying he didn’t want to toss me aside like yesterday’s drawers. But Mark was a desirable man who clearly wanted nothing more than a quickie, and who I was really getting hungry for. I kept telling myself, I’m eighteen years old. Why can’t I go to bed with whoever I want?
And that was the quandary. Did I want to go to bed with Mark, or did my hormones want that release? What would I feel like afterward, when he had finished with me and tossed me aside? I hated the thought of feeling used. I decided I would not go to bed with Mark.
My walk through the gardens ended, and I felt somewhat satisfied with my decision. I returned to the guesthouse and Scott was lounging in front of the TV. “Here’s Mark, Aaron, on that TV show I told you about.”
And sure enough, Mark was playing a cowboy on some program, and I had to agree that he looked good, really good.
I told Scott I had agreed to go out with Mark sometime soon. He looked delighted. “Why, that’s great. Maybe that’ll get you over Rick. I bet Mark’s a great lay, Aaron. He’s got a perfect body and is simply gorgeous.”
“Yeah, I know all that. But I have no intention of sleeping with him.”
“You can’t tell me you don’t want him, Aaron.”
“I didn’t say that. I said I have no intention of sleeping with him, not that I didn’t want him. Of course I want him. I want him a lot. But it would only make me feel bad afterward, that’s all.”
“Aaron, I hate to be nosy, but do you have a normal sex drive? How do you control your hormones?”
“I’d hate to see you if you liked to be nosy, Scott. I think I have a normal sex drive. What’s normal to you?”
“Well, I have to jack off a couple of times a day.”
“Oh, well, there you are. I, um, do it two or three times a day as well. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“But it’s so much better with a buddy. Don’t you like all the kissing and hugging and just playing around with a man?”
“Other than Rick, I have no experience to gauge my liking of those activities with men in general, but I do enjoy the things I do with Rick.”
“You can be so fucking cerebral sometimes. What are you learning in that school of yours? When I was in college, I slept my way through every dorm on campus.”
“Am I being cerebral? I guess it’s just defense mechanisms taking control. I don’t want to be just someone’s idea of a momentary diversion. I want my sexual encounters to mean something, to feel that I really connected with someone on a spiritual level. I mentioned before that I don’t want to be just a fuckbag. My friend tried to commit suicide last winter because he’d been passed around from one man to another for over a year.”
“God, I didn’t know that. I guess it’s wise to be cautious when having any kind of a relationship with someone. But a good orgasm is pretty damn spiritual to me. Sex can be fun. It can be a way of getting to know someone. It doesn’t have to be a commitment for a lifetime together. Don’t let your friend’s tragedy scare you away from fully experiencing your life. You can enjoy things like sex without giving them more meaning or importance than they really deserve.”
“You’re right. But this is premature, anyway. Mark hasn’t even asked me to have sex with him. By the way, why don’t you sleep with Mark? You’re the one who’s so desperate for him.”
“I am not desperate. I would like to, but he hasn’t invited me. He’s invited you.”
“He’s just invited me to go out to dinner. Why couldn’t you invite him out?”
“What? I couldn’t do that. What would he think?”
“Maybe what you’d think if he asked you, a good time’s coming.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t think I’d have the courage to ask him out. I mean, he’s famous and all.”
“Jeez, you sound just like a schoolgirl, Scott. If you want him, go ask him. It’s as simple as that.”
“Easy for you to say, Mr. I’m-always-being-asked-to-go-to-bed-with-men. It’s not as easy for me as it is for you. No one’s asking me out.”
“Maybe if you’d be a little more forward, they would.”
“If I was any more forward, I’d be slapped in the face by every man in town. I do let men know I’m interested in them.”
“I’ve seen you in action, Scott. You’ll slobber all over some man, and then you run away. Why not go tomorrow night instead of me? I’m sure Mark would prefer it. At least he’d have a willing bed partner. If he wants to go to bed with me, he’s going to be a frustrated man.”
“Hmm, that’s not a bad idea. I could go and tell him you weren’t feeling well, and you sent me in your place. That might work.”
“Sure, why don’t you do that?” I said, incredulous at the thought he would debase himself just to go to bed with someone. Didn’t self-respect enter in anywhere?
The four of us went out that night in Mark’s Bentley. We went to a very gay-friendly restaurant, somewhere that I’d never heard of. The food was great, the waiters were all gay, or so it seemed, and they were fun to interact with. Since they all recognized Mark, they buzzed around the table like flies. I was surprised Mark would be so blatant. “Isn’t your film studio concerned about people finding out you’re gay?”
“I’m so glad you asked that, Aaron,” Isaac said. “I’ve been asking him the same thing for over a year now, when he first got his break in this show. Why aren’t you worried, big brother?”
“Look, guys. Five nights a week, I’m seen with one ravishing starlet after another. The studio sends photographers to swarm around me. ‘Is he going to marry this one? Is he going to marry that one?’ Once in a while, I just like to let my hair down. I’m not really as bold as you think I am, anyway. The only reason I come here is because the owner has the same problem. We have mutual sympathy for each other. I feel somewhat safe here
. I rarely go to gay bars, except out of town, and then wearing a disguise. I am much more discreet than you think.”
“But what about coming on to me on the street the other day? How did you know I was gay?”
“Oh, figure it out, girl. Two very handsome young men driving around in a brand-new Corvette, dressed as nattily as you two were, what was I to think? You were two construction workers coming home from a hard day’s work on some building? You fit the gay persona of L.A.”
“You mean, I look gay?” I asked, horrified.
“No, not that exactly. You try to explain it, Scott. You know what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah, I do. Yeah, Aaron, we dress like gay men do in L.A. Remember the other day when you saw the clothes LuLu got for you? You even said the salesman must have been gay, remember? Well, you were probably right, from the looks of the clothes he sent over. They’re just the fashion most young gay urban men wear in this town. It doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out that two men wearing the right clothes, driving an obviously expensive car are homosexuals.”
“But why the car? Why does that scream gay?”
“Because,” Mark said, “it looks like you have a sugar daddy buying things for you. Most men our age don’t have expensive cars like that, unless they have a rich old man paying the bills and buying them things.”
“You mean that a young guy driving a fancy car like that is thought of as being gay? I drive the Mercedes convertible all over El Paso, Scott. Does that mean everyone thinks I’m gay?”
“Of course not, Aaron. But to another gay man, it’s a cue the young driver of the car might have a sugar daddy.”
“Wow. I don’t think I’m ever going to get this homosexual thing down. I’m giving off cues I don’t even know about. Is that the reason all these men keep coming after me?”
“Partly,” Mark said. “But mostly because you are beautiful and young. You really do have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, Aaron. That was no come-on. I was merely stating a fact. You are desirable, you know.”