A Gay Polyester High School Romance

by S. W. Ballenger

  It only took a few minutes before the staff began bringing in several courses of French dishes. Although I had no idea what most of them were, they were actually delicious; thankfully, no snails.

  The dinner conversation consisted of mostly “adult” talk. Dad and Mr. Logan talked business while Mom and Mrs. Logan discussed Women’s Rights and the Equal Rights Amendment. Just as we were finishing some dessert that tasted like chocolate mousse, Mrs. Logan addressed Susan.

  “Susan, honey, perhaps Shawn might enjoy an evening swim.” She spoke in that British accent I never tired of hearing.

  “Good idea, Mother.” She feasted her eyes on me. “You want to?”

  Swimming was not an activity I had planned for a cold November weekend in a penthouse suite in the middle of Manhattan. I leaned to my left and whispered, “I didn’t pack a swimsuit.”

  Susan, without skipping a beat whispered back, “You won’t need one.”

  My eyes bulged and she immediately started snickering. “I’m teasing. Don’t worry. I have something you can wear.” She looked at me with a glint in her eye.

  • • •

  Leading me from the dining room, I followed her through the maze of hallways again until we entered another bedroom decorated in an Oriental theme. Susan went directly to the dresser and began rummaging through the drawers. I stared at a large ornate vase sitting on the dresser with the painted Chinese peasants laboring in a rice field. I’m sure it probably came from some Ming Dynasty or something and was worth a fortune. I was beginning to think this penthouse was more a museum than a home.

  My thoughts were interrupted when Susan turned around and held up a small piece of stretchy material. “Aha! Here we go.” She grinned.

  I focused on the tiny swimsuit she stretched between her hands. While I was used to wearing a tight-fitting Speedo as part of the swim team, this particular one looked way too small for me.

  “Father entertained a family from France last summer and their son left one of his swimsuits behind. He spent most of his time in the pool.” She stretched the Speedo out, her hands maxing out around six inches.

  “Umm,” I stuttered slightly, “how old was their son?” I raised my eyebrows thinking the swimsuit looked as though it had been worn by a twelve-year-old.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Why?”

  “It looks a little too small for me.” My voice quivered.

  “I know.” She threw it at me. I reached out and caught it. “Pool is down the hall to the right and up the stairs. Meet you there in ten.” She winked as she walked out the door.

  I lifted the swimsuit and stretched it out between my hands to test its elasticity. It was definitely a kid’s Speedo. The thought of wearing it in front of anyone, much less a girl like Susan, terrified me.

  Finding my way back to my room, I sat down on the bed and stared at the swimsuit in my hand. The thought ran through my mind that if my mother saw me in it, I would never be able to look her in the face again. Obviously, Susan had to know the suit was too small for me.

  I went back and forth for over ten minutes trying to decide if I felt brave enough to wear it in front of Susan. Maybe if I get in the water quickly, she won’t see me. What if she does, will I truly die of embarrassment? Obviously, she wants to see me in it. What if she’s interested in me? Nah. She couldn’t be. I looked down at the swimsuit again. No, there’s no way I’m going to wear this.

  • • •

  With a towel wrapped around my waist, I pushed the doors open to what I assumed to be the pool room, as per Susan’s directions. The sound of Carole King’s It’s Too Late hit my ears.

  The glass-enclosed structure rested atop the skyscraper. While I’ve seen some impressive sights traveling with my family, this one was definitely top three. I looked down and made sure my towel was securely tied around my waist before I heard a female’s voice calling my name.

  “Over here.” Susan waved from a hot tub on the far side of the pool.

  I looked up and gave her a nervous grin before cautiously heading over.

  As soon as I walked up, I noticed her staring at my bare chest.

  “You wearing it?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” I tried not to frown.

  “Well. Let’s see it.”

  “Umm,” I stuttered again and felt a sudden panic.

  I had checked myself out in the mirror many times after putting on the swimsuit, if you could call the tiny piece of material a swimsuit. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination, revealing the outline of every part of my anatomy through the thin material.

  I looked at her; the fear on my face obvious. “Susan. I…well…it’s really…sm—”

  “Shawn, it’s okay,” she interrupted me. “It’s just me and you.”

  I put my hand on my towel and looked at her again.

  “Go ahead,” she encouraged me just as the song I Feel the Earth Move started. A song which seemed rather appropriate for the way I was feeling at that moment.

  Going for broke, I jerked off the towel and quickly hopped in the tub, trying my best to get under the water so as not to reveal the front of it; although the back didn’t leave much coverage either.

  Susan started to laugh hysterically.

  I knew my face was as red as my swimsuit. It was then I realized that this whole set-up had been one big prank. Not only did I feel embarrassed, I felt like a complete idiot to have fallen for it.

  “You made me wear this thing on purpose.” I looked down, unable to see it beneath the bubbles.

  “Oh God!” She laughed until tears ran down her face. “I didn’t think you would wear it.”

  “You’re just as mean as you were when we were kids.” I laughed nervously, recalling that weekend in the Bahamas when she convinced me that having painted nails would ward off a shark attack.

  “Oh, you mean the painted nails? You were so cute with your little pink toenails.”

  "Everyone thought I was a little girl!”

  “I know. Well, I think you’re still cute and you’re definitely not little anymore.” She aimed her eyes toward the part of me under the water; her face became serious when she said “not little.”

  I swallowed hard and felt the heat rising to my face again.

  “Let’s have a drink,” she suggested.

  “Um, yeah…sure.” I watched as she got out of the water and strolled over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses. God, she looks good in a bikini, almost as good as Brad in a Speedo. My mind stopped and I frowned. Where the hell did that come from?

  I thought I was losing my mind as I tried to push the thoughts of Brad from my head.

  “Here you go.” She handed me an empty glass and eased into the water sitting close beside me.

  I suddenly felt queasy; not because she was pressed up against me, causing my body to react, but because of my thoughts of Brad.

  “You okay?” she asked as she filled my glass.

  “Umm…yeah,” I said. “Just a little nervous.”

  “Here,” she topped off my shot glass with the clear liquid, “this will help.”

  Immediately, I brought it to my lips and gulped down the contents without squinting. “Whew!” I shouted.

  I held out my glass for a refill knowing it was going to take more than one of them to push the image of Brad’s butt pressed tightly in a swimsuit out of my head.

  Susan laughed. “You’re not as innocent as I thought.”

  “What do you mean?” I guffawed.

  “You’ve drank before.”

  “Well, yeah, of course. My parents have a bar too. you know.” I gestured my head to the bottles behind the shelf.

  “And you’re how old again, fifteen?” She lifted her eyebrows at me questioningly.

  “Yeah.” I replied waiting impatiently for more alcohol. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.” She replied filling my glass. “I’ll be eighteen next month.”

  “Oh, happy early birthday.�
�� I flashed my teeth, starting to feel a slight buzz.

  “Thanks.” She filled her glass, took one sip and set it on the tile floor behind us while I downed my second one and held my glass out for a third shot.

  “You better slow down there, tiger.” She laughed.

  “I’m good.” I gave her a big goofy grin.

  “You’re so cute.” She tapped her index finger on my nose, staring me in the eyes.

  “I know.” I shrugged, my shit-eating grin still on full display as the effects of the alcohol hit me full-force.

  With her lips mere inches from mine, I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers. Closing my eyes, I fell into the moment as she reciprocated. Her soft lips tasted like cherries. I got a whiff of her perfume which reminded me of the smell of a rose garden on a warm spring day. After what seemed like an eternity, she pulled away.

  I put my hand on her cheek. “You’re so pretty.” My inhibitions were completely gone.

  “Thanks,” she said gently. “You’re a handsome guy yourself.”

  “Thanks.” I blushed, my small swimsuit suddenly becoming much smaller.

  Susan took the glass from my hand and laid it next to hers. She then grabbed hold of my hand. “Let’s go to your bedroom.”

  My eyes widened. “Umm…” I stuttered.

  She tapped my nose again with her finger. “You’re adorable.”

  I suddenly felt a sense of relief when in that moment I realized I definitely liked girls.

  We rose from the water, wrapped our towels around us, and quickly tiptoed to my bedroom. As soon as I closed the door, Susan dropped her towel and began removing her bikini top.

  Soon, her entire swimsuit was lying on the floor; Susan was most definitely a woman. I nervously pushed down my swimsuit.

  Susan looked down at the newly exposed part of my body, lifted her eyebrows, and grinned widely. Obviously, she liked what she saw. A sense of male pride washed over me.

  She walked over to me and began kissing me again, moving down my neck to my chest before stopping and leading me to the bed. It hit me that I was about to lose my virginity. I had waited for this moment all my life, and it was moments away from happening. Although the effects of the vodka helped calm me, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nervousness.

  We sat down on the bed and began kissing again before finally climbing under the covers. Her hands never left my body, and mine never left hers. I tried to smile, but all I felt was nervousness.

  “It’s okay, Shawn,” she whispered. “Trust me.”

  I paused a moment before smiling and gently nodding. It took less than two minutes before I felt myself nearing the gates of heaven.

  Moments later, fireworks exploded and I felt as if I had been catapulted into another plane of existence. It was the most wonderful feeling I had ever experienced in my life. About the same time, Susan joined me in the new plane as sounds of her own pleasure filled the room.

  She then lay down beside me. “Whew…that…was…intense.” She breathed.

  I tilted my head to face her. Instead of feeling excitement that I had just lost my virginity to the most beautiful girl I’d ever met, I started getting teary-eyed.

  Susan’s eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?” She rolled onto her side and gently touched my face.

  I nodded through my tears. “I’m such an idiot.” I stared at the ceiling embarrassingly. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” Tears streamed down my face.

  Susan gently rubbed my cheek. “It’s okay. I know it was your first time. I cried my first time, too.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a girl.” I wiped my eyes with my hand. “Guys don’t cry at a time like this. I’m so stupid.” I pounded my fist against the bed.

  “Hey, Shawn. Listen to me.” I refused to look at her. She tilted my head to face her. “Listen,” she said in a very gentle voice convincing me to finally look her in the eyes again. “There’s nothing wrong with being a sensitive guy.”

  “But…it’s…just—” I shook my head refusing to say any more. I started thinking about the fact that I cried after having sex. That wasn’t a masculine thing to do. It made me feel like I was less of a man. Wasn’t that how queer guys were? Sensitive? What if I really was gay like Brad? I knew I liked girls. It didn’t make any sense.

  “Is there something else bothering you?” Susan rubbed my arm gently.

  “It’s nothing. You’re right; I guess I’m just a sensitive guy like you said.” I tried to push those confusing thoughts about Brad out of my head and focus on the beautiful girl that I just had sex with lying beside me.

  She smiled and rubbed my chest. “You got a girlfriend?”

  “No,” I answered. The thought of almost going all the way with Tabitha ran through my mind, and now I was so thankful I didn’t lose my virginity to her.

  “You got a boyfriend?” I returned.

  “A couple,” she responded very casually, as if having two boyfriends was not a big deal.

  “Two?” I raised my voice.

  “My boyfriend Bruce is on some archeological dig in Africa and my other boyfriend Stephan is studying at Oxford. I guess you could call them long-distance relationships. I don’t see them very often. They are more like ‘conveniences’ honestly.”

  She smiled and continued. “I go with my feelings…you know? If I’m attracted to someone, physically and mentally…well…you see what happens.” She gestured toward me.

  “You were attracted to me in that way?” I asked, surprised.

  “Well…yeah.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s the sensitive side of you in combination with the physical—which by the way, you’re quite the fox. Either way, who cares? I like you.”

  “Thanks.” I beamed. “I like you too, Susan.”

  • • •

  The next morning, I awoke and looked to my right for Susan. Seeing she was no longer lying next to me, I looked around my unfamiliar room. I stretched my arms above my head and yawned, feeling like I had finally crossed the threshold into manhood. The thought of sharing the story of my crossing with Brad ran through my mind before I remembered we were no longer friends. I couldn’t help but feel sadness. I honestly missed him.

  I took a shower and got dressed in my blue polyester pants, white long-sleeved shirt, and blue paisley vest that matched the color of my trousers. I slipped on my Buster Browns with the platform soles, before winding through the maze into the kitchen where Mrs. Logan and Mom sat talking over croissants and coffee.

  “Good morning, honey,” Mom greeted as I stopped by and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

  “Good morning.” I smiled and took a seat.

  “Coffee, sir?” asked the butler who came around with a silver coffee pot in his hand.

  I laid my cloth napkin on my lap. “Um…yes…please.”

  “Very good, sir,” he responded as he flipped over the coffee cup at my place setting, filled it, and offered me cream and sugar, which I politely declined.

  About that time, Dad walked in, dressed in checkered golf pants and a solid blue polo.

  “Good morning, Dad,” I greeted as I grabbed a croissant from the tray sitting in the middle of the table.

  “Morning, Son,” Dad greeted before taking a seat next to Mom and grabbing a couple of croissants for himself.

  “Joan is planning on a large brunch, so don’t fill up on croissants,” Mom warned him.

  “Yes, dear,” Dad replied with a cheeky grin.

  Hearing steps behind me, I glanced over my shoulder at the girl who had shared my bed for the night, wearing a tight-fitting, blue T-shirt and equally form-fitting, orange polyester pants that showed off her every curve.

  “Good morning, everyone,” Susan greeted as she made her way around the table, stopping briefly at the head of the table to give her father a quick peck on the cheek before turning and giving me a wink.

  A shit-eating grin plastered itself on my face, and I winked back in response. Her smiling eyes remained on me as she took h
er seat on the opposite side of the table. Breaking my stare, the sound of a spoon tapping against a coffee cup drew my attention to my dad, who sat frowning at me as he stirred his coffee. My smile quickly faded as I dropped my head and busied myself buttering my croissant. I knew immediately I was in deep shit.

  “Father?” Susan spoke up after a few moments of silence. “I was thinking of taking Shawn on a tour of the city today.”

  “I think that’s a great idea, sugar,” Mr. Logan said before taking a sip of his coffee.

  I cut my eyes to Dad again, whose eyes bored into my skull, making me squirm.

  I admit there were very few times in my life when my father got angry with me. I’ve heard that guys act differently after having sex the first time. Maybe he saw a change in me. Maybe it was Susan’s demeanor or mine, but either way, I knew he knew.

  “But stay in Manhattan.” Mr. Logan interrupted my worried thoughts as he spoke to his daughter. “You know how dangerous the other boroughs are and with all these police cut-backs. I don’t want to have to worry about you two getting mugged.”

  “Of course, Daddy,” she dutifully replied.

  • • •

  An hour later, Susan and I were exploring the streets of New York. Before we left the penthouse, Dad gave me some money, but didn’t say anything. I could tell when he handed me the two twenties that he was angry, and I knew a serious conversation would be forthcoming at some point. It filled me with dread.

  We rode to the top of the Empire State Building, visited the Museum of History, and sat at some hole-in-the wall pizzeria that Susan claimed had the best pies in town. I tried to push the worry of my dad being angry at me from my mind, but between that worry and the worry about my friendship with Brad, I found it hard to enjoy myself.

  We ended the day with a walk through Central Park.

  Strolling down the sidewalk, the cold wind blew leaves around our feet. I pulled my brown suede coat in tighter and flipped up the fur-lined collar to try and block the wind from my ears.