by Rick R. Reed
Mark shrugged and Dan drank him in as he crossed the room to hug him. Mark was his ideal man, physically speaking, with a mop of dirty-blond hair the Florida sun had streaked golden, wide brown eyes, full lips, and the stocky, strong body of a Wisconsin farm boy, covered everywhere in golden down. Dan took Mark in his arms and kissed him, deeply, passionately, and for a long time, all the while thinking that being in his arms was truly coming home. He tried to ignore the smell of alcohol that rolled off Mark like an acrid wave, or the odor of cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes, even though he had sworn hed quit.
He shouldnt bring up the smells, Dan thought, not when Mark had tried so hard to make other smells, much more tantalizing ones, take center stage in their little home. He pulled away from Mark at last, a little breathless, his dick hard and throbbing, feeling a rush of conflicting emotions that included joy, lust, and suspicion.
Now was not the time for suspicion, so Dan simply said, “This all looks great.” He moved to the stove and looked down at the mélange of sausage and peppers sizzling, the steam above them perfumed with fennel and garlic. “Youre too nice to me.”
“Ah, its nothin. Grab a beer and tell me about this new AIDS buddy of yours.”
“This new buddy of mine makes a mean Mai Tai.” Dan rooted around in the refrigerator and pulled out a can of Diet Coke. “And I think Im toasty enough for one day.” He cracked open the can and poured the brown liquid into an ice-filled glass. He frowned as Mark took a break behind him to reach into the fridge and grab a can of Bud Lite. Dont say anything. Dont say a word. You know how easily you could spoil the mood.
“Sounds like my kind of guy.” Mark cracked open the beer, took a swig, and returned to flipping sausage and stirring peppers and onions. “So I take it your buddy—whats his name again?—isnt too sick, if hes partying and mixing up tropical cocktails.”
“Oh, I dont know. He did tell me hed just gotten over a bout of pneumonia. And he has KS.” Dan sipped his soda. “And hed be a little too thin for my mothers liking. So I dont know how sick he really is. Its hard to say. But things dont look all that good.” Dan looked wistfully out their sliding glass doors as a heron took flight off the bank of the lake. “Weve been lucky. You and I havent known that many people with AIDS. I dont really know what to expect.”
“Isnt that what youre training was for? So youd know?”
Dan sat down at the little dining room table they had pushed into an alcove off the kitchen. “Yeah… I mean, I learned a lot about the virus and what can happen. But man, its a brave new world out there. This disease has only been around for a few years. I think everyones on a steep learning curve.”
“Is he getting treatment?”
“Hes on AZT, although he says it makes him sick, so hes not always religious about taking it. And he does have a doctor, but thats rough because its through public health, since he doesnt have insurance.” Dan rolled his eyes. “That doctor probably, sadly, unfortunately, has a waiting list with hundreds on it.”
Dan told Mark all about his meeting that day with Adam as Mark served up dinner and, together, they ate. Dan noticed Mark didnt eat much, just moved the food around on his plate and drank a lot of beer, but reminded himself, again, not to say anything because they were having such a nice evening. Dan told him about what Adam had worn. “My jaw just about hit the front porch floor when he opened the door!”
Mark laughed. “It sounds like they assigned a real character to you. Maybe youll write about him.”
Dan shrugged. “I dont know. Im kind of too close to the subject, and besides, Im working on that mystery. Im pretty sure once I get it done, Ill be able to find a publisher.”
“Thats good,” Mark belched and began clearing away the supper dishes. “We can use the money.”
Dan kept quiet. Since they had moved down to Florida from Chicago, neither man had been able to secure employment, and the money (Dans mostly) they had saved was running out. Fortunately, Dan had an interview the next week with a company that did underwriting reports for large life insurance policies, and his writing abilities, he thought, would give him a good shot at the job.
He didnt know what Mark was looking for… or waiting for. He had learned early on not to ask him about his job hunt. That is, if he didnt want to spend the next several days enduring stony silences and pouting. He supposed Mark would eventually find something too. After all, he couldnt expect Dan to take care of both of them, could he?
Dan didnt want to think about the answer to that question. Instead, he shifted gears and wandered out to the kitchen, where he wrapped his arms around Mark from behind and rubbed up against Marks ample ass. Dan kissed the nape of his neck and bit Marks earlobe. As he did so, the blood flowed quickly into his dick and he pressed his erection against the crack of Marks ass, which he could feel easily through the cotton athletic shorts he wore. “Mmm,” he breathed into Marks ear. “Id love to get a little deeper into that crevice.”
Mark laughed and pushed him away. “Im trying to clean up here!”
Dan moved right back into position. “The dishes can wait. But Im not sure I can.” He yanked down Marks shorts, knowing by feel he wasnt wearing any underwear. He dropped to his knees and pulled Marks cheeks apart, gazing with a kind of dizzy rapture at a clean, puckered hole crowned with gold fuzz. Dan sucked in a breath at the beauty of what he beheld. Then he buried his face in Marks ass, driving his tongue up into that tight, little pucker.
Mark whimpered. The plate in his hand crashed to the floor, shattering, as he gripped the counter, bending over slightly to give Dan better access. “Christ,” Mark whimpered. “That feels so fuckin good.” He rotated his ass slightly, pushing back against Dans face and driving tongue.
Dan reached up between his lovers legs, playing with the furcovered swinging sac between his thighs and then reaching up to grasp his dick. Dan was disappointed to find Marks cock only halfhard at best. Still, he tried not to let it bother him, since a full erection on Mark really wasnt necessary for what Dan had planned and suddenly so desperately wanted.
They stayed like that for several minutes. Dan fingered and tongued Marks hole while Marks knees shook and he sighed, whispering filthy encouragement. Mark kicked his shorts free of his ankles at some point and Dan struggled out of his own shorts clumsily, not wanting to disengage his tongue from Marks sweet hole.
“Oh, honey,” Mark panted, “I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me hard. I want it so bad!” Dan could see, from his vantage point, Mark frantically pumping his own dick, yet it wasnt getting any harder. Dans lust and his own ability at that moment to bury his head in the sand (not to mention his lovers ass) allowed him to ignore the implications.
Finally, Dan stood, turned Mark around, and marched him into the bedroom. He flung him face-down on the bed and, using only spit as lube, entered him in one savage thrust. Marks joy at feeling Dan inside him was apparent with his yelp and then groan of pleasure. He was more than ready. Mark bucked back against him, propelling Dans dick deeper inside. “Fuck it, baby. Pound it hard. Give me all you got,” he whimpered into the sheet.
And Dan did.
Mark never did get hard, nor did he come. As Dan pulled out and wiped his own dick on a towel next to the bed, he told himself he could ponder why not later.
Chapter Four
THE sunlight streamed in through the window that Saturday morning, illuminating Dan and Marks naked bodies, intertwined. Dan opened his eyes first, groggy with sleep, squinting against the powerful light pouring in through mini-blind slats, and wondering if he had slept later than usual.
He turned onto one side, bringing up a sharp, close-up view of Marks handsome face in repose. In spite of the golden stubble on his cheeks and the muscular pecs rising and falling as he breathed, he looked childlike as he lay there sleeping, vulnerable, and Dans heart swelled with love. Gently, so as not to wake him, Dan let his fingers lightly stroke Marks cheek, delighting in the contrast between his satiny, tanned skin and rough stub
ble. Mark smacked his lips and let out a snort, and Dan moved his hand away. He knew that just a little pressure would open Marks dark brown eyes and they would be gazing into Dans own brown ones.
He also knew that the gaze could be followed by a cheery “good morning” and a term of endearment or a grumpy “why the fuck did you wake me up?” All bets were off with Marks moods.
Dan wasnt ready for either. He wasnt ready to talk yet, good or bad. He liked this quiet moment and the ability to just lie here, listening to Mark breathe, watching his slack features that looked so innocent, almost guileless. You cant hurt me now. I can take care of you. The thoughts popped into his head, almost unbidden. Outside, the coos of mourning doves mingled with the quacking of a duck. Sometimes, Dan felt like they had moved to the country, even though they were right in the midst of the city of Tampa.
His peace evaporated, bit by bit, as he gazed at Marks face and remembered what had brought them down here from Chicago. Simply put, the pair had fled. Life had become untenable and even dangerous in Chicago, and both of them agreed that packing their meager belongings up and heading south to sunshine was a good idea. A fresh start—where they knew no one and no one knew them. They could begin anew.
Dan fled nothing except the good friends he had made over the nine years he had spent in Chicago communications degree from Marquette Wisconsin. Dan fled nothing except a fairly decent job as a publicist for a thriving theater company on the north side of the city. And he had left nothing behind but a love for Lake Michigan in all its different moods and a city that never lacked in opportunities, whether they were cultural, environmental, or culinary.
It was Mark who had needed to leave. It was Mark who was leaving behind a job as a car salesman he had once done well at; it was Mark who was leaving behind friendships he had destroyed through betrayal, and the inspiration of mistrust.
Mark fled addiction.
At first, Dan had done the cocaine with him. It was fun on the weekends, an escape. They would mix up a batch of cocktails— margaritas or screwdrivers usually—and Mark would procure a tiny bag of white powder for the two of them. They would drink, listen to music, and snort lines. At eleven or so, wired and feeling blissful, they would head out to Halsted Street and hit the clubs to dance, never tiring, even when it started heading toward 5 a.m. and the last calls would go out. They would walk or cab home, watching as the light filtered from black to gray to pinkish-violet as the sun rose over Lake Michigan, and would sleep the following Saturday or Sunday away.
It seemed relatively harmless.
Until it wasnt.
It seemed harmless until Mark started wanting to do it every since graduating with a University in Madison, weekend. There wasnt much of a noticeable impact until Dan couldnt sleep on Sunday nights because Mark was still up, doing lines and dirty chatting on local phone-sex lines while he watched porn. Dan was sure Mark had assumed he was asleep and knew nothing of his secret, late-night partying.
Dan had never felt more alone as he lay in bed hoping and waiting for Mark to join him, staring at the ceiling while the minutes passed glacially, like hours.
And then the Mondays started, when Mark felt too sick and crashed too hard after the weekend to go to work. Tuesday would arrive, and Dan would catch Mark doing a line or two in the bathroom before his morning shower. Mark would flash him his killer smile and sheepishly say, “Maintenance bumps. Thats all. Not to worry, hon.”
Dan remembered coming home from work early one time, with the beginnings of a bad cold, and finding Mark naked on the bed, playing with a limp dick as he watched porn and smoked cigarettes. Their bedroom TV broadcast a VHS tape of a Joe Gage porno. Was it LA Tool and Die?
Mark lost his job and promised hed quit the coke.
Yet, he didnt.
And when Dan came home one night toward the end, when he had been working an opening at the theater, to find Mark in bed with his dealer, that had been it. Dan had ordered him out. “Ill give you one day to get your things packed,” Dan had said, lower lip quivering and not knowing himself if he really meant it.
Mark had begged. He had cried. He had pleaded. He had sworn he and his dealer, Sam, had done nothing but lie naked next to one another, watching porn and stroking. “Neither of us could even get hard, for Christs sake!” Mark had shouted, as though the fact of their impotence would lessen his betrayal. It didnt. But when Mark whispered how much he needed him and that he didnt quite know how he could bear life without Dan in it, it was hard not to cave.
So Dan took him back. Two days after their tearful reunion, Mark proposed the idea of moving to Tampa. “Its gorgeous down there on the Gulf coast,” he had said. “Youll love it.” And then he had started to cry. “I want to quit, sweetheart, I really do. But I need to get away from here. I need to get away from people who are just a phone call away, who will swing by and deliver coke within an hour of my calling them. I need to get away from that temptation. I need a fresh start. Do you get it?”
Dan had bought into the idea and the logic of Mark being freed from his addiction burden if he only lived somewhere else, a place where he would have no drug contacts. He swore he would not develop new contacts; that part would be easy. The darker parts of Dans mind knew Mark could find cocaine in Florida (my God, wasnt Miami, just across Alligator Alley, the cocaine capital of the US?), but he shushed himself, telling himself he needed to have faith in his lover. After all, Mark wanted to change.
So they had left it all behind. Dan had cried as he watched the remarkable skyline disappear, as they headed south and away from Chicago.
At first things seemed good. But Dan wondered sometimes if Mark hadnt found some new connections. Things he didnt want to acknowledge were cropping up—strange phone calls, mostly, and Marks own behavior, like the other night when he didnt eat the dinner Dan had made and couldnt get it up for lovemaking. That was not like Mark… or at least not like Mark sans cocaine.
Dont think that way. Its not fair to him. Hes trying. Hes really trying. Maybe he just had too much beer the other night—that would explain both the not eating and the lack of erection. Hes a good man and hes your husband… in your heart. Stick with him. Remember, he needs you.
Dans thoughts seemed like a pep talk, yet he tried to make himself believe.
Suddenly, he noticed Mark lying awake and staring at him, much as Dan had done only moments ago. Dan had been so lost in memory and reverie, he hadnt noticed Mark awakening.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Mark whispered, nestling into the crook of Dans armpit and laying his head on Dans chest.
“Just thinking about the day ahead. Were going to the beach with Adam, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” Mark said, betraying no emotion, so that Dan couldnt be sure if Mark dreaded the outing or anticipated it. Mark toyed with the hair on Dans chest. It was comfortable like this, lying here while the sun warmed their naked bodies, yet the air conditioning kept them from getting too hot. Dan loved the two of them nestled this way together in the morning, the day filled with promise, their dicks sleepy, yet half-hard. Would they make love?
“Would you mind if I just stayed home?” Mark asked. It sounded to Dan as if he was trying—way too hard—to sound casual and offhand.
Dan tensed and felt his good mood evaporate like steam on the pavement after a Tampa thunderstorm. “Why wouldnt you want to go? I was looking forward to you meeting Adam. I know he wants to meet you.” Dan wasnt sure if this part was true, but he hoped it would bolster his case. “Well have a great time. I thought wed head over to Ft. De Soto.” Ft. De Soto had quickly become Dans favorite beach since moving down to Florida. It was in a state park so, unlike so many other beaches, its backdrop was not a line of high-rise hotels but simply mangroves, palm trees, and dunes with sea oats. The beach was all pristine, white sand, sugar-like, a sharp contrast to the aqua Gulf waters beyond the shore. Dan hoped the place would not be that busy, and he had looked forward to the three of them getting acquainted while the sun beat down o
n them. He could practically taste the salt of the water and feel its stinging breeze on his sunreddened face. Why would Mark want to miss that?
He wished he could say he had no idea. But he had a good idea, and wished he wasnt so paranoid. There was no arguing with the fear that popped into his mind—that Mark wanted the day to himself to get high. Of course, Dan could never say that to his man. Mark would shut down, which was much worse than if Mark had just yelled at him and denied his accusations. Mark had a way of making silence feel like a backhand to the face, one that leaves your nose or lip bleeding.
His silence stung.
“Why, hon?” Dan felt cautious, as if he was toeing the edge of an icy slope, but he asked, anyway. “I mean, its not like you have anything to do here today.” Oh shit; I shouldnt have said that.
Marks body stiffened and he rolled away from Dan, so he lay on his side, facing the wall.
Fuck. Now Ive gone and done it. Why did I have to mention him not having anything to do? Dan reached out a placating hand. “Sweetheart, Im sorry. I didnt mean you didnt have anything to do. Didnt mean that at all. I just didnt want you to miss out on a glorious day at the beach.” Dan inched closer to Mark. “Adam promised to make a thermos of Mai Tais.”
“Figures you would try to tempt me with that.” Mark got up from the bed and Dan lay there, stunned, face burning, as he listened to Mark shower. Dan didnt move as he heard Mark pour a bowl of cereal, the spoon clinking against the bowl, and then the sound of him rinsing the bowl in the kitchen sink. Dan stared at a hairline crack in the ceiling as Mark opened the sliding glass doors to the patio. Dan supposed Mark was out there watering the herbs (basil, flat leaf parsley, and chives) he had planted and throwing breadcrumbs to the ducks.
How could someone so nurturing be so cruel, all at the same time?
With a sigh, Dan rose from bed and headed into the bathroom.
“ AREyou sure you wont come?” Dan was at the door, beach bag in hand, wearing his board shorts, tank top, and flip-flops. In a silence that felt like an oppressive third presence in the little apartment, Dan had packed Adam and himself a lunch of cheese wedges, crackers, apples, and oranges.