Unexpected Dreams: Dream Series, Book 4

by Isabelle Peterson

  “You and me both,” John laughed. “Mike has the patience of a saint.”

  “No, I’m an exciting accountant. Fairchild & Dolan,” I replied.

  “We should make an appointment,” John said. “I’m a contractor, and well, you know Mike is a high school history teacher. Neither one of us is good with taxes and such.” Mike rolled his eyes. “You do taxes, right?” the burly man asked.

  I couldn’t help smiling at John’s easy going nature. Both of the men really. They were just exceedingly normal. And getting married. It was like God was still talking to me, as Pastor Emily suggested in her sermon.

  “I do. Taxes and financial planning. Give my secretary a call,” I said reaching for my wallet and a business card, as was second nature whenever anyone mentioned they needed help with their accounting, and handed it to them. “Set something up. Either me or my partner,” and hearing the word partner come out of my mouth, I quickly amended my comment, “my business partner—can help you.”

  “Sounds good. Thank you,” Mike said. “Well, we should let you go. We have just one more stop here. And this cheese,” he said, lifting the bag he was holding, “should get in the fridge.”

  We said our goodbyes and I sat back at my table. Okay. I added up all the signs I was getting from this very long feeling weekend and, as an accountant is wont to do, did the math. Chicago. Meeting up with Tanner. I was going to let whatever happens happen. Of course, that’s if I hadn’t already ruined everything the last time I saw him…. when he kissed me.

  I finished my coffee, then picked up a few groceries at the market, and tried to be “normal,” whatever that was anymore.

  CHAPTER 10

  Monday morning I got up for the day and showered. As I soaped up, I was unable to think of anything but Tanner. My mind instantly went to images of his body, and I allowed myself to rub one out with Tanner in mind. It was getting more and more comfortable to do so, and more satisfying, now that I had decided to give this a try; to see if I really was gay, or maybe just bi, but I was going to find out.

  I imagined sliding into Tanner’s ass. I wondered if I would do that from behind while Tanner was on his knees or if Tanner would be on his back and we’d be face-to-face. I wondered if I would let Tanner ‘do’ my ass. My backside clenched with the thought, although I wasn’t too sure if it was an aversion-like response, or one of excited anticipation. I continued to stroke myself, and I even dipped my finger into my backside the way I had done the other night while watching it on the screen. I built an intense rhythm and didn’t slow down.

  I pictured Tanner’s eyes—the way he had looked at me just before he kissed me last week. I remembered how his strong, muscular chest felt under my fingers… I recalled how his lips felt on mine…and it was over. Exploding fiercely in the shower, I leaned against the cold tiles and breathed heavily, trying to recover. It was going to be a hard Monday—pun absolutely intended.

  When I showed up at work, Morgan handed me the travel packet for Chicago. Airplane confirmation, hotel reservation, and conference details were all transferred to my name. Was I really going to Chicago? And planning to meet up with Tanner? I took a deep breath. Yes. I’m going to do this. Wednesday night I was flying to Chicago and this time Thursday morning I would be waking up in Chicago. Okay—well, it was already ten in the morning in the Windy City, so maybe not just waking up; I would be at the convention. I already knew where my mind would be. More than likely, not at the convention.

  During the next couple of days, I threw myself into work in preparation of missing a few days. I was almost sidetracked on Monday when Tanner’s preliminary draft with requested changes arrived via FedEx. I almost set everything else aside and focused on Tanner’s file. Instead I convinced myself to finish the boring files, so I could truly give my undivided attention to Tanner later.

  I got my files in order by mid-day Tuesday, and then focused my attention on Tanner’s, which was more than easy to do. I breezed through the changes on his portfolio and sent the pages for Morgan to print and bind so I could have the finalized package when I left the office tomorrow.

  My time home was focused on research. Research about the game of soccer so I understood the fouls, and the cards, and the clock. I learned about the four main categories that a player would be involved with on the field: the goalie, defenders, mid-fielders, and forwards, Tanner’s position, whose main job was to score goals.

  After I was done researching the game of soccer, I delved into the world of gay sex. I learned a lot about hygiene and diet—what to eat, or not to eat, (*note to self – lay off Mexican food) and how to ‘prepare’ back there, both a day or so before, and during the act. I learned that there are ‘tops’ and ‘bottoms’ Tops are the men that penetrate. Bottoms are the men who receive. I spent a lot of time imagining what it would be like to be both a top and a bottom. I explored the various positions that men used in sex and it seemed pretty much like sex with women—anything goes. I read erotic stories on a ‘fan-fiction’ site. I watched videos. I enjoyed the videos with the men that made love, and those that were somewhat more aggressive. There were videos with domineering and submissive roles, but the leather and whips did nothing for me. There were some, um, ‘techniques’ that scared the hell out of me, but watching the men give head, and give and receive, and the men who had sex more like making love—those excited me like I never imagined. It all scared me more than a little, but excited me so much more. As I cleaned up after yet another palm session, I reflected that I hadn’t masturbated so much since I was fifteen or sixteen years old.

  The more I learned, the more excited I became, and the more I was looking forward to my trip to Chicago. I feared that I had already wrecked things with Tanner when I rebuffed his kiss the last time I saw him. I thought of ways I could let him know that I wasn’t turned off by that kiss, and, more importantly, that I wanted to kiss him again…and go further.

  Wednesday I was a jumble of nerves. I muddled through my appointment with Mrs. Andrews and her scholarship. She was pleased that she could start “advertising” the scholarship and accepting applications from candidates. When our appointment wrapped up at eleven-thirty, I couldn’t get out of the office fast enough.

  At the airport, I sent Tanner a quick email while waiting for the attendants to start calling passengers to board the plane.

  To: TANNER WILLIAMS (tannerwilliams76@gmail.com)

  Cc:

  Subject: Trip to Chicago

  From: Greg Fairchild, Fairchild & Dolan Financial Planning, LTD

  August 28, 2013 2:03pm

  Hi Tanner,

  Just getting on the plane heading to Chicago, landing around 8:30pm.

  I’ll be busy with the conference until 6 or so tomorrow, but maybe afterward I can get your finalized portfolio to you, and review should you have any questions.

  Really looking forward to seeing you, and watching you play live.

  Greg Fairchild, CPA, Financial Planning Specialist

  Fairchild & Dolan Financial Planning, LTD

  For a moment I considered directly suggesting dinner, and I thought about just saying ‘Really looking forward to seeing you,’ and dropping the ‘and watching you play live,’ part, but then it would look too obvious, or even creepy. Satisfied that the message sounded friendly and breezy, yet professional, I hit send.

  Finally, our flight was called to board. Flying business class, I was the second group to board and just after I tucked my carry on in the overhead compartment and took my seat, my phone chimed with an incoming email.

  To: Greg Fairchild

  Cc:

  Subject: Re: Portfolio Draft

  From: Tanner Williams

  August 28, 2013 2:10pm

  Hi Greg,

  Looking forward to seeing the finalized portfolio. I’m sure it’s perfect. Where would you like to meet to review it? Dinner?

  Speaking of dinner, if you’re hungry when your plane lands, we could go out and grab a bite. Personally, I’ve neve
r been a fan of airline food. Text or call me when you land. 312-555-3825

  Likewise, I’m looking forward to having you at the game. If you have colleagues who want to join you, just let me know. I can give final ticket count up until 3 on game day.

  T

  Whoa. Did he just ask me out—twice? I read the message again, and it certainly seemed that way. Then again, he brought up giving tickets for more than just me. Did he want me to bring someone else to the game? Did he not want me to be alone? Of course not, I chided myself. He’s just being polite, and trying to fill the stands. He had asked me out to dinner, twice. I saved Tanner’s phone number into my contacts, and powered down my phone as the attendants were requesting everyone to do.

  I hoped I wasn’t too tired when I landed in Chicago. I had a sneaking suspicion that I’d be wide awake.

  CHAPTER 11

  The plane landed early, and fortunately, because I’d only brought the carry on, I didn’t have to wait for the baggage claim. Chicago’s O’Hare baggage claim has never been my favorite place. Such chaos. Outside of the airport, I lucked out with getting a cab and before I knew it, I was on my way to the Renaissance Blackstone Chicago Hotel on South Michigan. Typically, I stayed at Hyatt Hotels and had built quite a bank of points there, but Aaron booked the reservation; I didn’t. Looking at the itinerary for the next couple of days, the entire convention was based there, so it did seem the logical choice. I asked the driver when he thought we’d be getting to the hotel and then shot a quick text to Tanner:

  8:52pm

  In the cab on the way

  to the hotel. Staying on

  S. Michigan. Is 9:30 too

  late?

  –Greg

  I hit send, and then I sat and stared at my iPhone. Is it too late? Or because I didn’t text him as soon as I landed, and he was expecting me to land at 8:30 and text him, that he thought I was passing and he’d gone out with “the guys”? Maybe he was just being nice when he’d said to text him.

  As I sat there feeling stupid and insecure, palms sweating, and disbelieving that I was in the situation I was finding myself, my phone buzzed. I glanced down at the first two lines that were displayed on the screen, and seeing the message was from Tanner, slid the button to show the whole message.

  8:53pm

  Excellent. I’ll meet you

  at your hotel. Where are

  you staying?

  My mouth went dry. He was asking where I was staying. He’s interested. Good God this is so nerve wracking! I felt like a teenager making sneaky arrangements and I started to wonder if any of my kids had done anything like this. I hoped not. Back to the task at hand. Which hotel?

  I quickly typed in:

  8:54pm

  Renaissance Blackstone

  Hotel on S. Michigan.

  …And hit SEND.

  I felt completely exhilarated. Would he be in the lobby when I got there? Would we see each other across the space and—why was I thinking like a freakin’ romantic? Was I a romantic? I don’t remember thinking this way about Elizabeth. That thought crushed me. It crushed me in two ways. One, I’d not thought of her that way. Two that I’d wasted decades possibly ‘barking up the wrong tree’.

  I loved that I was in Chicago for this. Away from home, and no possibility of running into people that I knew. It was freeing.

  8:55pm

  C U there around

  9:30p

  My stomach was flipping repeatedly. Is this the “butterfly” thing I’d heard Elizabeth refer to when she said she had “butterflies”—because I never understood that before. Now—I totally got it.

  I sat back and went through my imagined “list” of things to let Tanner know I was interested. That the fact that I’d never kissed a guy before wasn’t an obstacle any longer. We had kissed. The FanFiction stories I’d read and videos that I’d seen were going through my mind. Would we do anything like that tonight—somehow? Suddenly, I was terribly nervous and wished I hadn’t messaged Tanner, just pushed off seeing him until tomorrow. I also wished I hadn’t read the stories or watched the videos because now I had expectations, where before everything was just speculative. What if things are awkward? What if I act all stupid? But…what if things are amazing?

  I couldn’t believe how incredibly nervous, anxious and excited about the prospects this evening had in store. I remembered my friends from high school and college getting this way about meeting up for certain dates. Jim was certainly this way when he was getting ready to go out with Jess after meeting her at my wedding. I never felt like this meeting up with Elizabeth or any other girl. Did I know back then and refused to acknowledge or take into consideration the discrepancy in emotions?

  Considering all these possibilities, I realized that I hadn’t noticed our approach into the city. The cab was stopped and the cabbie was pulling my suitcase from the trunk of his taxi. I pulled out cash to pay and tip the man, and made my way into the hotel.

  I pushed ‘all things Tanner’ aside and approached the concierge desk and checked in. I collected the key cards for my room on the eleventh floor. I was so deep in thought with what might happen when Tanner and I were alone, that I barely remember arriving at the room, but before I slid my card in, I heard noises on the other side of the door. Not noises like an air conditioning unit, or an errant light buzzing its way out of existence. Noises like I’d been hearing from my computer a week ago. The sounds of a woman “gettin’ it.” Hard. I listened for a moment or two more, and a guy’s deep voice would say something, then female sounds of pleasure would follow. Some chick was getting… for the lack of a better word… fucked.

  I made my way down to the front desk again, embarrassed and slightly sickened to have heard what I did, explained things as delicately as I could to the young, and now embarrassed, attendant. She made a quick call to someone named “Lupita,” delicately explained what I had relayed to her, and waited.

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” she said, hanging up the phone. “Terribly embarrassing. Please, let us make this up to you by upgrading your booking, Mr. Fairchild. One of our Suites is currently available, no extra charge to you, of course.”

  “Of course. Thank you.”

  “Just a moment.” She avidly clicked and typed away on her computer. A moment later, she handed me a new key card.

  Silently, a bellhop arrived at my side and swept up my bag, gesturing the way for me to the elevator bay. All a part of the Suite package, I presumed. He guided me to the designated elevator that would take me to the suites floors, and I followed his lead. In professional silence, he led me to my room on the twenty-third floor. He opened the room door for me, and I stepped inside. The size and luxury of the room had me spellbound. The bellhop moved swiftly, setting my bag on a suitcase stand, then quietly left before I could tip him.

  I walked to the window and took in the amazing night view of the city. I saw sparkling lights from buildings, the dark of Grant Park, the magnificent Buckingham Fountain, and the moonlight glinting off Lake Michigan. It was a magical scene. I glanced at my watch and realized it was 9:27.

  I looked myself over in the large mirror and figured the wrinkle free khakis and button-down with rolled up sleeves were just fine. Casual, yet put together. I fished out my toothbrush and brushed my teeth, because you never know, then headed downstairs to wait for Tanner. The whole elevator ride down, my mind was awash with the articles I’d been reading and images from the gay porn I had been watching. My cock was semi-erect in anticipation of seeing Tanner, the man who had gotten me thinking in a completely different way than I’d thought possible two weeks ago.

  I strode into the lobby of the hotel and spotted Tanner right away. I wasn’t sure which made me spot him faster: the few fans near him, talking to him while he signed something, or his brilliant smile and warm laugh. I think it was the smile and laugh.

  He looked up suddenly and the big smile on his face changed. It suddenly reached his eyes. Like the smile he’d been sporting, was his “fan�
� smile, but seeing me was his “friends” (or maybe something more?) smile. When did I become such a sap? I wondered. I quickly pushed that thought aside and smiled back.

  Tanner pulled himself away from his fans and walked up to me, full of celebrity confidence. The same confidence I’d seen in him the first night we met and “Bluto” threatened to beat his face in. He was dressed more casually than I’d seen him wear in Napa, and actually, he was more dressed like he was from California now, than when he’d been there. He wore a pair of green jeans that showed his muscular thighs, and a dark blue denim shirt. On his feet, he wore blue suede moccasins.

  “Greg. Good to see you again.” He extended a hand to me, which I took, and we shook. “Welcome to Chicago.”

  “Good to be here. Been a while, probably fifteen years since I’ve been here.”

  “Well, hopefully you’ll get some time to check it all out. What are you in the mood for? Spanish? Italian? Steaks?”

  “What ever you think is best,” I said, letting Tanner take the lead, like I had taken when he was in my town, although my town was much, much smaller.

  “My favorite has to be Mercat a la Planxa. Catalan-Spanish tapas. Yeah?”

  “Tapas. Sure. Sounds great. Is it far?”

  Tanner laughed and shook his head. I loved his easy going nature. It was one of the reasons I liked hanging out with him so much, but seemed that here in Chicago, he was even more laid back.

  “Um, no. It’s not far at all. It’s right there,” he said pointing at a door with MERCAT A LA PLANXA.

  I joined him with his laughter. Yeah. The few times I had been in the lobby, I had missed it every time. There was an entrance to the restaurant right there.

  Since it was rather late, and a week night, we got a table right away, no reservation required, and I started with his portfolio. I looked around the restaurant wondering if we looked like we were on a date, but several of the tables were pairs of men, or pairs of women. They didn’t look like they were on a date, just a couple of people having a meal, and I prayed that Tanner and I looked just the same. Yes, it was a tad deceptive, faking like this was all business—at least on my end, but I felt that if anyone asked why two men were having a late dinner, the file would easily show that this was ‘just a business dinner.’ As I’d suspected, it was a five minute review. We spent the next couple of hours eating amazing tapas and drinking really good Rioja. We talked soccer. I told him that I’d been studying so that when I watched his game in a couple of days, I wouldn’t be so lost. He helped clarify some of the questions I had, and his enthusiasm of the game really showed. He was going to make a great coach for the Sonoma County Conquistadors.