by G. A. Hauser
“Yes. Come on, Carl. We used him.”
“He liked it. He even wanted to play submissive.” Carl tugged off Keith’s socks, massaging his feet.
“Justify it any way you like. I still feel like crap about it.”
“Even with Mark’s reassurances?”
“The guy’s too innocent for his own good. He doesn’t even know when he’s being objectified.” Keith closed his eyes. “That feels excellent.”
Carl pushed Keith’s jeans up his shins, rubbing his ankles and digging under the fabric to his calves. “I think the three-way, and for that matter, the group thing, is over for us.”
“I agree. It was a thrill, but we’ve done it. I imagine if we make a habit of it, even that will wear on us.”
“I love you. You and I think so much alike.”
Opening his eyes, Keith smiled adoringly at him. “It was nice to do things like that together. Share the experiences.”
“Definitely. It brought us closer.”
“It did, Carl. It definitely did.”
“I know.”
“Marry me.”
Choking on a laugh, Carl asked, “What?”
“Marry me. It’s legal here now.”
“Keith…” Carl fixed Keith’s pant legs, covering his shins again.
“We can do it secretly.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“Huh?” Keith reached for Carl’s hand.
“I said, what’s the point of a secret ceremony? If we can’t celebrate it with family and friends, why do it?”
“You want to have a big wedding?”
Appearing frustrated, Carl rested his head on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. “We can’t get married, Keith.”
“Carl…” Keith placed his feet on the floor and cuddled against Carl’s side. “I love you. I don’t want anyone else but you.”
“Our careers, Keith. Remember Adam? Deny, deny, deny? How do we deny we’re a couple if we get married?”
Keith wrapped around Carl and dragged him down on top of him lengthwise on the sofa. He then clasped both of Carl’s hands and crushed them to his chest. “How long do you want to play this stupid game, Carl?”
“As long as we both have careers in acting, Keith.”
“No. No way.”
“Keith, I want to star in movies. And not as the cartoonish fag who lisps and waves his hands around like a queen.”
Winding his legs around Carl’s, Keith moaned, “Carl…please.”
Pulling away just enough to talk to him, Carl leaned his elbows on the arm of the couch over Keith’s head and spoke in a serious tone, “I love you, I do. This has got nothing to do with the amount I adore you and want you with me. The answer to that is forever.”
“Like in Forever Young?” Keith sneered sarcastically.
“Don’t be glib. You know what I’m talking about here.”
Dropping one foot to the floor, Keith stamped it in frustration.
Carl leaned down and kissed Keith’s lips. “I’m sorry, Keith. I want a career.”
“In secret. A tiny little ceremony with Adam, Jack, Mark, and Steve.”
“Secret? In Hollywood? Are you joking?”
“No one will know.”
“What about wedding rings?” Carl asked, accusing. “Huh, Keith? We suddenly wear rings?”
“No rings.”
Carl sat up, pushing away from Keith. “Then what’s the fucking point? Who are we kidding?”
“Please don’t pull away from me.”
Crossing his arms over his chest in anger, Carl shook his head.
“Do you love me?”
“You know I do.”
“Will you do anything for me?”
Carl peered over at him. The green of Carl’s irises were paler than Mark’s and had a gold ring around the outer edge. Mesmerizing.
“Almost.”
“Almost anything?”
“Yes. That’s what I said.”
Sitting up again to be able to whisper, Keith asked, “You’ll do anything I ask sexually, but you won’t have a commitment ceremony with me. Don’t you think that’s unfair?”
“I didn’t make the rules. Society did.”
“And since when do we give a shit what ‘society’ thinks?”
“I can’t keep going over this with you.” Carl stood abruptly. “I’m taking a shower.”
When Carl left the room, Keith slumped over his lap rubbing his face in agony. He loved Carl. Why did it matter to anyone?
The phone rang. It scared the crap out of Keith he was so deep in thought. He hopped up and picked up the cordless. “Hello?”
“Keith. Charlotte.”
“Hi. What’s up?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“Should I be?” Keith flopped to the couch.
“Yes.”
“I’m sitting.”
“Is Carl with you?”
“He’s in the shower. What’s going on, Charlotte?”
“You and he both have been nominated for Emmys.”
“Have we? Derek Dixon and Will Markham hinted about it when they spoke to us about the women. Do you know that for sure?”
“Yes. I just got a phone call from a trusted source, Keith. The show has got six nominations.”
“Wow. Cool.”
“Will you two go together? You know, as a couple?”
“Oh, God. Charlotte.” Keith felt sick, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
“Please don’t go with those toothpicks. You promised me, Derek, and Will that was finished.”
“Toothpicks?” Keith asked. “You mean Holly and Jade? They’re not toothpicks, Charlotte. They’re women.”
“Barely.”
“Come on, I don’t need this.”
“No. You should be popping the champagne corks.”
“Yeah. Whoopee.”
“Keith!”
“Sorry. Yes. It’s great, Charlotte. I do appreciate the call.”
“Please don’t worry about coming with Carl. People expect it.”
“No. They don’t. But nice try.”
“Keith,” her tone grew more accusatory.
“See you tomorrow, Charlotte.”
“Goodbye, Keith.”
He disconnected the call and stared into space. Though he had waited all his life for this, he didn’t feel happy. Particularly since Carl was petrified to marry him.
Winding up his arm in a parody of whipping the phone across the room in anger, Keith restrained himself and placed it back in its cradle.
Entering the bedroom, hearing the water from the shower in their private bath, Keith approached it, stepping into the steamy room.
Carl’s blurry form was visible through the double glass doors. Gazing at him while he soaped up, Keith instantly felt his cock move in his jeans. Yes, Mark Richfield was pretty, and Steve Miller was macho, but nothing compared to Carl Bronson in his eyes.
Pushing back the door to peek in, Keith watched him lather up his chest and neck, eyes cast down, his hair sudsy from shampoo. Carl’s young, thirty-year-old, tall, sleek, almost hairless torso made Keith salivate for a taste.
As if just realizing he had a visitor, Carl glanced up meeting Keith’s eyes. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Keith crooned, taking off his shirt.
“Are you joining me?”
“Is that an invitation?” Keith kicked off his jeans and briefs.
“Yes,” Carl laughed.
Pushing back the sliding door, Keith stepped into the blasting torrent. “I think I’m a sex fiend.”
“Yeah?” Carl reached out for Keith and slid his soapy body around on him.
“Yes. Is that serious? Should I seek help?”
“Sea kelp?”
“What?” Keith squiggled against Carl’s slick skin.
“Nothing. I’m making a joke that you didn’t get.”
“Hm?” Keith was already lost on Carl’s body. Leaning back, using his fingers, Keith pressed their two
hard, wet cocks together, rubbing them around each other.
“Nice.” Carl held onto Keith’s shoulders.
“I love the way that feels.” Moving his palm over them, Keith glided up their stiff shafts happily. He arranged them to stand upright, getting a better grip.
“You going to jack us off?”
“Got a better idea?” Keith began panting as his hands moved faster.
As if Carl had just felt a zing of pleasure, he gulped, “No,” then wrapped his fingers around Keith’s.
With the two of them jerking up and down, Keith felt his balls tighten up. “Are you close?”
“Yes.”
Carl’s muscles hardened in his arms as they quickened the pace and slipped over the heads and down to the bases like a machine.
“I’m there…” Keith choked out the words as the rush began in his testicles.
“Oh, yes…” Carl opened his lips and closed his eyes. “Yes!”
A flood of creamy sperm squirted out of each slit, spattering their dripping wet skin and running down their clasped hands.
Before it was all washed away, Keith licked it off his hand, instantly bringing Carl’s mouth to his to share the taste.
Carl’s moan echoed off the wet tiles, making Keith’s heart beat faster. Exchanging the tangy come between them, Keith wrapped tightly around Carl’s waist, crushing him to his body. Why couldn’t Carl marry him? Why couldn’t they gather all their friends and family together to celebrate their love? Why?
Carl felt Keith’s anguish even through his passion. No, their situation wasn’t fair. But who ever said life was?
Parting from his kiss, Carl asked, “Are you done?”
“Let me just shampoo my hair.”
After making sure he was soap free, Carl opened the door and grabbed a towel. Stepping out, he dried himself, staring as Keith finished up.
Marry you? I’d sell my soul to marry you. To wear your ring and vow my eternal love for you. But I can’t. The world of Hollywood motion pictures won’t let me.
Carl dabbed at his eye discreetly. After every lovely experience they shared, reality set in and they became maudlin. It sucked. This was supposed to be the best years of his and Keith’s lives. They were young, still in their prime, successful, in love…hello? What else did you need for happiness?
What else?
Freedom.
And the one thing he and Keith did not have was freedom. Carl felt as if he was in a cage and the bars were electrified. Every time he reached out to the air outside the trap he was burned.
The water stopped. Drips from Keith’s wet body to the porcelain tub replaced the sound of the spigot’s rushing noise. The door moved back. Carl feasted his eyes on Keith’s naked, drenched form. Twenty-six, blue-eyed, blond, the prettiest boy he ever did see. Mark excluded.
“Carl?”
Coming around from his daydream, seeing Keith rubbing a towel over his hair, Carl replied, “Yes?”
“Charlotte called while you were in the shower.”
“And?” Carl flipped his wet towel over the glass door.
“She said the show did actually get six Emmy nominations.”
Carl whipped his head around. “Are you kidding?”
“No. Including Best Lead and Supporting Actor in a Drama Series.”
“Us?”
“Us.”
“Not Omar?”
“No. Us.”
Carl whooped in joy and picked Keith up out of the tub, spinning him around in excitement.
“Carl?”
Slowing down his pulse, Carl found Keith’s expression did not reflect his own. He set Keith on his feet and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“She wants us to come to the award ceremony as a couple.”
“We can’t do that.”
“We have to. We promised her and the producers we wouldn’t have more fake dates.”
“No. That can’t mean for the awards. We have to look straight for the awards.”
“Carl,” Keith implored.
In fury, Carl held up his hand. “Stop.” He opened the bathroom door and stormed out.
“Please, Carl. This is about you and me, nothing else. I want to be with you.”
Clenching his fists in agony, Carl cried, “Why does every good thing that happens to us have to be painted with the same brush of injustice? I can’t stand this anymore.”
Keith pressed his naked length against Carl’s back, wrapping his arms around Carl’s waist.
His anger deflating at the loving embrace, Carl overlapped Keith’s arms and held him tight. “I’m sorry, Keith.”
“I know, babe.”
“I want to achieve the goal of a leading man in the movies.”
“I know,” Keith echoed softly.
Loosening Keith’s hold, Carl spun around to face him and felt hot tears running down his cheeks. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
“I understand. Carl, stop.” Keith wiped at Carl’s face.
“I love you. I’m proud of that love.”
“Carl, stop crying. You’ll get me started.”
A sob broke from Carl’s throat. He enfolded Keith in his arms and wept over his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh. It’s okay.”
“No. It isn’t fucking okay.”
Chapter Sixteen
After a fitful night’s sleep, Carl felt rough. He was so fuzzy headed he cut his face shaving. Exiting the bathroom with toilet paper stuck to his chin, he scuffed his way to the kitchen where Keith had poured him a cup of coffee.
“You look like crap.”
“I feel like crap.” Carl dropped to a chair.
“You tossed and turned all night.”
“I’m sorry. I should have slept in the other bedroom.”
“Not on your life.” Keith stood behind him and hugged his neck.
When the phone rang, Carl cringed. “Not this early.”
“Maybe it’s Mom.” Keith checked the display. “Adam?”
“Uh oh. Mark.” Carl flinched as if he were about to get slapped.
“Shit. You answer it.”
“Me?”
“He’ll kill me.”
“Give me the phone.” Carl reached out tiredly. “Hello?”
“Are you insane?” the voice on the other end asked.
“Good morning to you too, Adam.” Carl rolled his eyes at Keith.
“Do you think flaunting your homosexuality is going to get you movie parts, Carl?”
“Flaunting? Who the hell is flaunting?” Carl cupped the phone. “Go pick up the extension, he’s going crazy.”
Keith rushed to the bedroom.
Carl waited to hear Keith get on.
“Yes! Flaunting!”
Keith asked, “Are you talking about Mark?”
“Keith!” Adam roared, “You, Carl, and Mark are on the fucking cover of the Inspirer! Naked and in the same bed!”
“What?” Carl gasped. “Adam, that was from a shoot from the show we did yesterday. How the hell did they get it so quickly?”
“Off the net, Carl!” Adam yelled in fury.
“I knew it.” Carl deflated.
“YouTube?” Keith asked sadly.
“Yes! What were you thinking getting Richfield involved in this?”
“Steve’s okay with it,” Keith said.
“Jack is going berserk!”
“Jack?” Carl replied. “What the heck does this have to do with Jack?”
“Forget that at the moment. What I want to know is, are you two outting yourselves to the public?”
“What did the article say, Adam?” Carl felt his temples pound with a headache.
As sarcastically as he could, Adam said, “Well, gee, boys, let me read you the headline, shall I?”
Carl held his breath.
“It says, ‘Forever Young’s Famous ‘Straight’(and the word straight is in quotes, mind you,) Lovers Invite Gay Mate For a Day of Fun’. Shall I go on?”
Carl
rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb creating dots of light under his eyelids.
“Adam…it was a shoot.” Keith’s loud sigh was heard over the line. “Charlotte wanted a threesome and we thought of Mark.”
“Why? Why Mark? What the hell’s wrong with you? Couldn’t Charlotte cast a straight man? For Christ’s sake, where do you want your careers to be after this show ends?”
“Adam, your shouting is giving me a headache,” Carl moaned.
“You want to know what the headache will be, Carl? Me finding either one of you work after the finale. Okay? That’s the fucking headache.”
“Please stop yelling at us, Adam. Carl and I are already miserable.”
After a long silence where Carl could only hear breathing, Adam whispered, “Just come out. Come the fuck out.”
“I can’t,” Carl whined.
“Carl, you have to. You’re completely outted as it is, and denying it like I once advised you will make you both look like the biggest fucking liars in the country.”
“Kiss my film career goodbye?” Carl choked up.
“Take your chances.”
Carl set the phone down and covered his face to cry.
Over the line he heard Keith calling his name. “Carl?” A second later Keith rushed in to comfort him. “Adam, I have to go, Carl’s a mess. Fine. I’ll call you tonight. Bye.”
Keith disconnected both phones.
Curled in a ball over his lap, Carl was in agony. As Keith coaxed him into his arms, Carl wailed like a baby, letting out all his anger and frustration.
“Shh…oh, Carl. Please…stop crying.” Keith hiccupped and began to weep with him. “I love you. I can’t take seeing you like this. We’ll be okay. Please.”
His body racked with sobs as he wept, Carl had lost all strength to keep fighting. Everyone wanted them exposed for what they were.
But what were they? Weren’t they just two people in love?
“Carl,” Keith bawled with him and Carl knew it was Keith seeing him so upset that was making Keith cry.
Struggling to get a hold of himself, Carl swallowed down his hurt pride and kissed Keith’s salty cheek. “Okay, babe. Okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Keith wailed. “I did this. I invited Mark, I suggested the threesome to Charlotte. Hate me, Carl. I’ve ruined your career. Hate me.”
“No. Never.” Carl held Keith’s head in his hands and kissed his teary face. “It’s not you. It’s the powers that be who make the decision that a person’s sexual lifestyle affects his talent. It’s not you, Keith. Please. Never blame yourself.”