Kiss and Tell

by R. W. Clinger

  “But we don’t,” Burke corrected Colby. “He’s into drugging college jocks and having sex with them. That’s not something that entertains me. What if Reggie accidentally causes one of his bedmates to overdose, and I’m connected to him? The police are going to be knocking on my door and asking questions about drugs, accidental murders, and orgies.”

  “I realize that,” Colby said, frowning. He continued to shake his head. “I’ll put it on my priority list to handle. Right at the top. You’ve made it quite clear that neither party here today should have any association with Reggie McFarland, if we know what’s best.”

  Burke said, “Please keep me posted. And never try to set me up with a man like Reggie again.”

  “I promise, Burke. My apologies.”

  Burke stood and started ending the meeting with Colby.

  Colby walked Burke to the office’s door. Face to face, chests almost touching, Colby reached out and gently grasped Burke’s right bicep, squeezing. “Honestly, Burke, I’m sorry about this mess. And I’m serious when I say I’ll handle it for you.” He semi-grinned, practically brushed the tip of his nose to Burke’s, far too close to his client, perhaps intentionally. “If there’s any way at all I can make it up to you, let me know. I feel horrible what you’ve been through with Reggie.”

  Burke thought the guy was going to kiss him, feeling his minty breath on his lips. Not that he would have minded if it was what Colby’s intentions entailed. Of course, he thought the man handsome for all the right reasons. When Colby squeezed his bicep a second time, Burke gently and slowly moved forward. Purposely testing the man, he brushed his private parts into Colby’s, but didn’t pull away.

  “I’ll let you know. Thanks for seeing me this morning.”

  A kiss from Colby Blue would have knocked Burke’s world apart, all for the good of humankind. The kiss didn’t happen, though. Nor did Colby pull away from his junk touching Burke’s, which slightly caught Burke off guard.

  Colby blinked and whispered, “Don’t be a stranger, Burke. Come and visit me anytime you want.”

  If Burke didn’t know any better, he’d say he had some heavy-duty chemistry with Colby. The way Colby’s private parts hardened ever so slightly against Burke; how Burke felt comfortably aligned to the man; Colby’s hand gripping his bicep, somewhat romantically; their eyes catching, perhaps unable to break apart, sealed together; breath mixing between them.

  Burke couldn’t deny Colby Blue filled the criteria of a man he wanted. Tall and charming, professional and intelligent, Colby could easily become someone of interest to Burke, a contender in his dating life, a special guy he felt drawn to in a strange and alluring way, magnetically and soulfully.

  “Until next time,” Burke said, pulling away from the man.

  “Hopefully sooner than later.”

  “Sooner,” Burke whispered. He stepped out of the office and vanished into his day, having more things to accomplish.

  * * * *

  10:07 A.M.

  Mellner’s came alive with brunchers. People from all races mixed at the restaurant, enjoying breakfasts. The tables were covered in white linen, flatware shined a reflecting silver hue, and water glasses were filled with expert skill by the handsome wait staff.

  “I’ve been waiting for this day to come,” Beth Shore said, peeking through her burgundy bangs. She held a check in both hands, studying the amount. “Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars seems a bit steep, though. I expected maybe ten thousand, to tell you the truth. I really don’t deserve this amount from you. That’s not what our friendship is about.”

  Burke glowed, happy with his decision to gift a portion of his lottery winnings to the woman. “You do know what the cash is for, right?” He sipped his coffee.

  “For beating up Sam Dredion in high school because he called you a faggot, among other tasteless names.”

  Burke laughed. “Besides that.”

  It was Beth’s turn to laugh. “Because I taught you how to hold a joint in our junior year of high school, set you up with my cousin, Charlie, knowing you were going to get a blowjob from him, and because we’ve known each other since before the dinosaurs.”

  Burke continued to laugh, loving Beth’s positive nature. “You nailed it,” he said. “But there’s a little more why I think you deserve such a large chunk of money.”

  Beth slid the check into her knockoff Kate Spade handbag. “Spill your guts. Tell me what you’re up to.”

  He pushed one arm across the two-person table and reached for one of her hands. Clutching Beth’s left hand within his right, he said, “You deserve the money because you were the only person I could come out to when I was twelve…because I had a crush on your older brother and you didn’t tell me to behave myself around him…because we hunted down a hot stripper, the Marine, during our senior year in high school so I could get a hug from him…because you’ve always been my one and only girlfriend in my forty-two years.”

  Beth had tears in her eyes. The tears fell over her cheeks, and she wiped them away with her linen napkin. “We’ve had a lot of fun in our lives together.”

  “Stop crying. This is supposed to be a happy time between us. You’re ruining it.”

  “You’re giving me more money in one sitting than I’ll make in six years. It’s a lot to absorb.”

  He tried to lighten the moment by saying, “Remember when we snuck into Ted Cromby’s house and snapped pictures of him while he showered. How old were we?”

  “Sixteen.” She sobbed, wiping tears away and half smiling. She sniffed. “I wanted to see his junk more than you did.”

  Burke chuckled. “You were in love with the track star. Neither of us knew he was going to be the size of a javelin, long and thin.”

  She waved a hand at Burke, continued to cry. “Stop, you’re not mak…ing this bet…ter for me.”

  “You ended up being his girlfriend after that. I think your love affair lasted for five months. Then you met Chip Harding, the freshman from West End College.”

  Beth attempted to pull herself together and replied with, “Sex with Ted was the best I ever had.”

  “You called him hairy, big, and a man who knew what he wanted in bed.” Burke paused, scratched his cheek in thought, mentally flipping through pages of memories. “He was eighteen, and you were sixteen. That was statutory rape.”

  “Trust me, it wasn’t,” Beth determined. “I knew exactly what I was getting myself into and loved every second of it.”

  “Ted’s married with seven kids. He’s on his third wife and lives on a farm in Wisconsin.”

  “Fourth,” Beth corrected him. “And now he has eight kids.”

  “Busy guy,” Burke said, enjoyed his coffee and more chatter with the woman. He felt kind in his soul, giving Beth Shore the well-deserved cash, loving her as one of his best friends, a soul mate of sorts, and someone he had always respected and always would.

  * * * *

  June 9

  Bearish. Rough. Adorable. A bad boy, inside and out.

  Burke summed up his date sitting beside him at the queer bar Mensville. The brute went by the name of Thomas “Tank” Martino. Italian. Six-three. All muscle. Hairy. Tank decided to wear a pair of tight shorts, which showed off his tube of dick, and a skimpy, white tank that read Top Man. His dark eyes shined in the bar’s colorful lights.

  “You’re thirty-six, right?” Burke asked, sipping a whiskey and Coke.

  “Birthday’s next week. I’ll be thirty-seven.”

  “Happy birthday in advance.”

  Tank flexed a bicep and smiled at the same time. “Never thought I’d be attracted to a dude. Even some hunk like you.”

  “Life is short. Play hard, I guess. We never know what’s going to come our way.”

  Tank found his beer on the bar, drank half of it, and placed it back where it belonged. “Dating isn’t my thing. I’m a player, if you want to know the truth.”

  Surprised, Burke pointed out, “Your bio didn’t say that on True
Blue.”

  “All those bios are bogus. You can’t count on them.” He reached for Burke’s right hand, pulled it against his shorts-covered center under the bar, and told Burke, “Squeeze my dick. That’s what the bios on True Blue are really about.”

  Burke felt Tank’s palm over his. Tank forced him to add pressure to the Italian’s cock, which Burke did, determining the shaft as meaty, veined, and somewhat hard.

  “You don’t have to get married when you have a dick the size of mine,” Tank admitted. “Guys drop on their knees, and I have my top ways with them. One after the next. It’s the way life is for me.”

  Burke pulled his palm away from Tank’s member. “How many guys have you slept with, Tank?”

  “Lost count at four hundred. No reason to keep track after that number.”

  “After fucking four hundred guys, you didn’t fall for any of them?”

  Tank shook his head. “Hell, no. I meet a guy, bang him, and get rid of him. My life isn’t about companionship and never will be.”

  “Let me get this straight. You’re paying True Blue twenty-four thousand dollars for six months to do this?”

  Tank laughed and shook his head. “Fuck, no. My mother is. She signed me up with True Blue, wanting to find me Mr. Right. The money isn’t coming out of my pocket. The woman wants a son-in-law and adopted grandchildren. None of it’s my thing. I’m more into tight assholes and cum-filled cocks.”

  Burke wanted to tell the stud he felt bad for him, but didn’t. Instead, he sipped at his whiskey and Coke, keeping quiet.

  Eventually, Tank huffed and asked Burke, “Good-looking you isn’t going to get under me, are you?”

  Burke shook his head. “Sorry, Tank. I’m trying to find my soul mate with True Blue’s help.”

  “No problem.” Tank stood, removed his white tank, and dropped it over his chair. He showed off his hairy and thick chest covered in muscles to Burke and patted Burke on the back. “Good luck with your gig, guy. If you don’t mind, I’m going to find some fag to suck my dick this evening.”

  “Don’t mind at all,” Burke said.

  He watched Tank walk towards the bar’s dance floor, strutting his beefy stuff, showing off, and luring a horny guy in. Tank didn’t even make it to the floor of dancers because a young brunette who looked like Casey Affleck hung against his chest, kissing him. As Burke studied the two men kissing, he stood, walked away from the bar, and ended his evening at Mensville.

  * * * *

  June 10

  “I’ve decided to personally terminate Reggie McFarland’s contract with The True Blue Dating Agency. All monies he provided my company will be returned to him in full,” Colby Blue said, seated next to Burke on one of the park benches in Robert Channing Park.

  The two were dressed in khakis and polos, looking as if they were models in the most recent L. L. Bean cyber catalog, ready to play tennis for a photo shoot. Both sported Italian loafers, expensive and freshly shined.

  Burke thought it an extremely stunning springtime day: perfectly blue, no clouds overhead, and a mild temperature. Happy squirrels played in the nearby grass as birds chirped midday songs in the sprawling, oak canopies.

  Burke said to Colby, “I appreciate you taking a personal interest in my situation.”

  “My job is to make True Blue work for every client. I couldn’t live with myself knowing my company’s staff is setting up quality members with creeps like Reggie McFarland.”

  Burke observed two squirrels in the distance. The pair rolled over, wrestling, squeaking, and seeming to have a fun time together. He cleared his throat. “Do you know the True Blue client, Thomas Martino?”

  Colby confidently replied with, “A large Italian bear of a man who goes by the name of Tank. My staff set you up on a date with him.”

  “The date was last night.”

  “And how’d it go with Mr. Martino?”

  “Not as great as I would have liked it to.” Burke fell silent and still. He continued to watch the two squirrels at play.

  “Tell me what happened, Burke. You’re my inside man now. You can help me make this company better with your information, even if it’s not going to be good news for me.”

  Burke felt lousy, sharing negative comments about Colby’s company with the owner. “Maybe you don’t know, but Laura Martino picked up the tab for Tank to be one of True Blue’s members.”

  Colby was all ears, willing to listen to Burke. “I’m well aware of that, Burke. Continue. What else do you have to say about your date?”

  Burke walked Colby through his short evening with Tank, providing every detail he could about Tank’s dating agenda of sleeping with men and having no intention of finding Mr. Right on his mother’s cold, hard cash.

  Colby paled and shook his head. He looked up at the blue sky through the canopy of oak limbs and green leaves. He sighed, sounding broken, and admitted, “This job isn’t easy. When I started True Blue, I simply wanted people to be together and share love. Things aren’t as easy as I’ve thought they should be, though. I need to know the negative things like what happened to you. You need to tell me about those horrible clients and their unspeakable behavior on dates. I always thought I had respectable clients and a company, that…”

  “You do have a respectable company, Colby. Not every guy is a saint in the dating pool. There are a lot of losers out there who want to hurt people. Both of us know there’s going to be a percentage of appalling clients in your line of business.”

  Colby looked at Burke, sharing deep eye contact. “Those are the men and women I need to weed out.”

  “Exactly,” Burke said. “You obviously know what you have to do. Now you just have to do it. Start a new department at True Blue. Set up your clients with undercover dates to learn their ins and outs.” He patted Colby’s right thigh, physically comforting the businessman. “Look, if you need money to start this department, I will be glad to…”

  “I have the money,” Colby said. “And once I hire the staff to do the undercover work, it will be a go. I have to take a few days to think this all through before executing a plan of action, of course. Preparatory matters are the key to revision.”

  Colby’s stare hung on Burke’s, unblinking. Both smiled. Burke felt his heart lift and fall within his chest. Something told him Colby wanted to lean in and kiss him on the park bench, sealing their handsome faces together. Colby stayed a gentleman and finally blinked.

  He told Burke, “You’re a good man. Easy to talk to. Handsome. Nice. Fun. We’re becoming friends and maybe don’t even realize it.”

  “We are,” Burke replied, smiling and feeling his cheeks go red.

  “I’m sorry about Tank last night. I’ll promise to make True Blue better.”

  Burke glowed, irrefutably warm and fuzzy inside. He felt as if he were being lifted off the park bench. “Something tells me you’re a man who keeps his word. I don’t doubt that.”

  “Thanks, Burke. I like you. Keep being my friend. What do you say?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Burke pulled his palm away from Colby’s thigh and ended their park time together.

  * * * *

  June 11

  Morning

  At first, Burke passed on his third date kindly arranged for him through True Blue. One of the agency’s employees had sent him a factual email and picture of Cal Yuell, a dark-haired football player with mysterious and sultry blue eyes. Dark-skinned and sporting earrings, Cal looked like a player all the way, perhaps into an assortment of men, day in and day out.

  As Burke studied the handsome picture and Cal’s profile on his cellphone, he shook his head. “There’s no way I can do this.”

  He imagined Beth saying, “Stop judging. Give the guy a chance. He could be a teddy bear.”

  “You don’t know that, Beth,” Burke told himself. “I can’t always be nice.”

  “It’s not about being nice, Burke. It’s about thinking outside the box. Clear your head and go out with the guy. W
hat exactly do you have to lose?”

  “Guess you’re right,” he told the Beth inside his mind. He typed his agreement, stating his interest in going out with the football player, and clicked the send button.

  * * * *

  They met at Brickner’s Books on Mason Street in downtown Channing, a high-end bookstore frequented by the famous author, Robert Riley. Bill Brickner, a Tom Brady look-alike, welcomed Burke and Cal into his store. He served the two men mocha coffees with heavy cream.

  “Look around. Enjoy yourself. All historical fiction is thirty percent off today. Make yourself at home. If you need me, I’ll be at the front of the store.”

  Brand new hardbacks stared down at the two men, needing and wanting to be picked off the shelves and perused with fingertips, minds, and eyes. Paperbacks by best-selling authors like Roberts, King, and Steel were displayed on small, knee-high tables. Cream-colored tile decorated the floor.

  To Burke’s surprise, Cal Yuell turned out to be a massive and beautiful man who looked exactly like the tight end, Rob “Gronk” Gronkowski, of the New England Patriots. Although his online information showed him to have somewhat of a caramel hue to his skin, Cal showcased a handsome milky-white color in person.

  Man of Steel and big and brawny surfaced inside Burke’s mind. The gentleman looked as if he had superhuman strength. They carried out introductions with each other at the bookstore, shaking hands and sharing a gentle hug.

  What Burke learned about Cal within the next half hour blew him away.

  Cal couldn’t throw a football if his life depended on it, nor did he have a single ounce of athleticism in his over-the-top, high-performance-looking body. Cal became direct and to the point with Burke, toying with the lip on his coffee cup with two fingertips.

  “I like to watch pretty much every sport out there, but can’t play any of them.” He also told Burke he enjoyed reading Agatha Christie mysteries, knew Burke had won the lottery two months before, and confessed, “I dated your cousin a few years ago, Ricky Spire, which I won’t go into any more detail about since he’s now in jail for drug possession and selling.”