Desperate In Sheridan

by Gerry Pirani

  Brad realized his jaw was hanging and closed it. This model stud was asking him out on a date. “I’d love to, but, damn, tomorrow’s my reunion. Jimmy would be crushed if I didn’t go.”

  “Oh, yeah, of course.”

  “How about Sunday? Are you busy?” Brad asked. He wanted to kiss him again–without the distraction of shock this time.

  Wendell smiled at that. “I’m never busy in this town. Want my number?”

  “Sure.” Brad pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and input it. “So, okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll set something up?”

  “You promise?” Wendell asked, smiling.

  “Definitely,” said Brad, grabbing the model by the nape and pressing his lips against Wendell’s in soft, rhythmic kisses, their tongues making contact on and off. He felt his body catch fire and his date grow hard against him.

  “Brad-LEY! Where are you?” Jimmy’s rough call brought everything to a halt.

  “Oops, my dad’s here,” Brad said, joking.

  Wendell just smiled at that. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said in his sultry voice.

  Brad walked out from the dark slowly, adjusting himself. “I’m here,” he called out.

  Lanie asked Brad if he liked Wendell as soon as they got in the car. Brad shook his head uh huh, and then they were all three very quiet. Brad worried what Jimmy was thinking.

  The next day, Jimmy whipped his ass. His friend worked him so hard on the bike, Brad wondered if he’d be able to stand up at the reunion. He had no idea how out of shape he was. Although Brad’s gym membership was active, it was difficult to fit it in everyday. His goal turned into four times a week, which turned into twice, which became none. Jimmy ridiculed him for being such a city boy now. Neither of them mentioned Wendell or said the word gay once. Brad snuck into the guest room to call Wendell while Jimmy was in the shower. He left a message, asking if Wendell could get together on Monday instead of tomorrow. He didn’t have any choice. Since Jimmy was off, he expected to spend the day with Brad.

  *******

  “Too bad we didn’t know about Wendy before you RSVP’d. You could have brought him as your date,” said Lanie as they made their way to the hotel that night for the reunion.

  Jimmy grunted.

  The hotel ballroom looked downright tacky, as it had for their senior prom. Only Brad didn’t know any better then. Blue streamers with bright orange flowers, their school colors, adorned the ceiling, and each table had a candle centerpiece in big fat, glass jars filled otherwise with rocks. Brad had not expected so many people to show up. Everyone was there: the cheerleaders who had turned their noses up at him, now mostly married and tired looking; the jocks, who were rounder in the middle; the brainy type nerds, some of whom he’d had crushes on; and a guy named Philip.

  Philip was an infatuation of Brad’s for three long years. He thought for sure Philip was gay, but he never reciprocated a potential come-on, and Brad was too nervous to actively pursue him. Phil was at the reunion alone, and he looked even better than when they were kids. He had short, blond hair with bangs, and the adorable dimples Brad remembered.

  “Hey, Brad and Jimmy, how are you guys?” Phil said.

  Jimmy shook his hand. “We’re great, and you?”

  “So, you two, you’re still–” Phil started but just then Lanie came up beside Jimmy with his drink, and Phil stopped. “Oh, never mind. Hi, I’m Phil,” he said to her.

  “Lanie. Nice to meet you,” she said with a brilliant, white smile.

  Brad exchanged an interesting look with Phil. Damn, it couldn’t be. Jimmy had had a string of girlfriends in high school.

  “Well, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to run to the men's room,” Phil announced, giving Brad the eye.

  Was he serious? Brad was too curious not to check. He waited a couple of minutes and then discreetly excused himself to get a drink. Except that he went to the men's room instead. Phil was just about to step out when he got there.

  “It took you long enough,” said Phil. He grabbed Brad by the tie and ushered him into one of the stalls. “I was hoping you would be here.”

  “You were? You never gave me the time of day in school,” said Brad. They were practically on top of each other in the stall.

  “I was still hoping I was wrong about myself in those days. Besides, I didn't want your boyfriend to get pissed,” Phil said.

  “Jimmy was never my boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out now,” Phil said, laughing.

  They were standing so close that Brad barely had to lean in for a kiss. He touched his lips to Phil's with a feather light pressure, teasing him. Phil was about his same height, which was easier on the neck.

  Phil smiled at him then, though their lips were still touching. When Brad jutted his tongue out, Phil's eyes closed halfway.

  Just then, the men's room door opened. They looked at each other and then looked away for fear of laughing. Brad somehow made it through school without getting bullied or beaten up–that somehow probably being in the form of Jimmy–and he couldn't help but find the prospect of it happening now almost comical. At one point, he put his hand over Phil's mouth to ensure discretion, but as soon as whoever it was left, they both broke out into laughter.

  “You know, I don't usually do this kind of thing. Make out in public restrooms,” said Brad.

  “Sorry, I couldn't help myself. It was a fantasy of mine when we were in school.”

  Their mouths tore into one another to make up for all those years of yearning.

  “I'd better get back out there,” Brad said after a few minutes, “before Jimmy comes looking for me.”

  “Does he know?”

  Brad nodded. “Yeah, he does, but I’d still rather him not catch me in the act.” He smiled at Phil.

  “You want to get together sometime? I live in Denver and head back tomorrow morning, but I come home pretty frequently to visit my family.”

  Brad frowned. “I live in Chicago now and don’t make it back here too often.” Still, there was tonight, he thought.

  The rest of the evening, he and Phil hung out and talked. It was rare for Brad to want to hook up so badly, and it didn't really seem like a typical one-night stand when they'd known each other for so long.

  But Jimmy was getting sloshed, and someone would have to drive him and Lanie home.

  So, instead of wrestling with his high school crush in bed, Brad was managing his drunken best friend in the parking lot. “Give me the keys, Jimmy. I'm not kidding!”

  “Come on, honey, give him the keys,” said Lanie. She had had a bit too much to drink, as well.

  “I'm perfectly capable,” Jimmy slurred.

  Brad grabbed him from behind and tackled him to the hood of the car. Normally, he wouldn't be able to take Jimmy down. He got the keys and dropped Lanie off first. Then when they got home, he stripped Jimmy down to his underwear and put him to bed, wishing it was Phil he'd been able to manhandle instead.

  Maybe Brad should consider a long distance pursuit, but the basis of his and Phil's attraction tonight had probably been more wistful than anything else. Still, it would have been nice to explore it for a few more hours.

  Jimmy was back up a few minutes later. “I need some water, or I'm going to have a hell of a headache tomorrow.”

  “Sure. I'll get it for you,” Brad said. He went down to the kitchen, found a plastic cup and filled it with filtered water. When he got back to the dark foyer, though, Jimmy was suddenly in his face.

  “Whoa.” Brad tried to back up, but Jimmy grabbed him by the waist and pushed him into the wall. The cup fell to the hardwood floor, its contents spreading like a fast leak around Brad’s feet. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I need to know,” Jimmy said. He flattened his lips onto Brad’s and broke into his mouth with his tongue for a drunken, slovenly kiss.

  Brad tried to shove him away, but Jimmy was smashed enough to feel like dead weight. His
beard was rough and scratchy against Brad’s reactive skin, and Brad squealed in protest. Finally, Jimmy let him push him off. “Yeah, that’s not going to work for me, either,” Jimmy said with a ring of defeat.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Brad’s eyes stung and his breathing was hard.

  “I’m sorry, buddy. I think I’m going to be sick. Not from you, though. From mixing all those alcohols.” Jimmy’s words were still slurred.

  “Just go to bed!” Brad went to the guest room and locked the door.

  At first, he felt like crying. He was shaking, so he lay in a fetal position under the blankets. Although it was cold in the house, he didn’t want to get up to look for the thermostat. What the hell was Jimmy thinking?

  Slowly, though, the humor in Brad’s situation emerged. Three men had kissed him in just over twenty-four hours in Sheridan, more action than he’d had in Chicago in over a year. Who would have predicted it?

  *******

  “Brad!” Jimmy called from the hallway. “Brad, it’s almost noon. You going to get up?” There was a gentle knocking.

  Brad moaned. He spent most of the night awake and when he did sleep, it was restless. “What?” His voice sounded hoarse.

  “I would come in, but the door is locked. Trying to keep the maniacs out?”

  The question didn't sound sarcastic, and Brad wondered if Jimmy remembered what happened. He rubbed his head and face and stood up. Wearing only pajama pants, he unlocked the door and went right back to bed.

  “I made coffee,” said Jimmy, placing a mug on the bedside table like a peace offering. “I’m sorry about last night. I don’t know what got into me.” Jimmy kept rubbing at the sides of his beard.

  Brad thought he'd never seen embarrassment on his friend's face before. It didn't look right. After a minute of silence, he said, “Ever since you told me, you know, I started questioning myself. Why have we been best friends all these years?” Jimmy was quiet for another minute. “But, no, there was more to it than that.”

  Brad sat up and looked at him, and Jimmy took a seat on the edge of the bed toward the foot of it. “God, I feel like crap.” He hung his head low. “It’s just… I don’t know how to explain this. If there was any way we could be together, I wanted to try.”

  Brad tried to smooth out the tightness in his throat.

  “You know, before you found some other guy and got hitched or something.”

  “You’re such an ass,” Brad said, but he meant no harm in it. “What about Lanie? I thought you wanted to marry her? Look, I’m always going to be in your life, but I don’t have to be your whole family anymore. She seems like a great girl.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just got weirded out. Even though part of me always knew about you. I think.” He looked at Brad after a few seconds. “So, what’s the deal with Phil?”

  Brad smiled and filled him in.

  “Jesus, man. You’re one popular dude this weekend.”

  They decided to go out for brunch and then watch some of the game. Brad managed to work in the fact that he was seeing Wendell the next day. Jimmy just rolled his eyes. But if Brad were to tell the truth, hanging out with Jimmy was what he wanted now–now that he wasn’t keeping the most fundamental truth about himself a secret. He'd missed his best friend the past several years.

  *******

  In front of the mirror on Monday morning, Brad flexed and stretched. The bike ride on Saturday still challenged his confidence, and he was worried about the planned hike in the Bighorns today with Wendell. Or should he call him Wendy? An unusual name for a grown man, to say the least.

  Since Brad was ready an hour early, he took the opportunity to look at Jimmy’s financial records like he’d promised. His friend had too much money sitting in cash since the sale of his parents’ ranch. Brad felt remorseful. He should have trusted Jimmy to handle his disclosure about being gay and come down to help him sooner. It was simple enough to come up with a general plan for diversification, and he finished before the doorbell rang. Wendell was a few minutes early, surprising Brad. He was expecting a little more narcissism in his date’s timing.

  “Hi. Oh, man. Great weather,” Brad said. It was the first time he’d stepped outdoors that day.

  “Sixty degrees and sunny,” said Wendell. “You can’t ask for much better.”

  Brad shifted his weight from one foot to the other. However ridiculous it seemed, he hated being around men this striking. He felt awkward and antsy. “You want to go? Or…” He pointed his head toward inside before realizing they’d end up in bed if Wendell chose option B. The model had made that clear the other night.

  “I’d love to come inside. The weather will hold up. If you want,” Wendell said with that voice of his while his head made a shy dip.

  Brad’s breath caught at the words. “Okay, co-come in,” he stuttered, getting out of the way.

  Wendell looked around, or pretended to, before planting his lips on Brad’s and sucking his face with unruly greed. A little taken aback, Brad stumbled backward. “Sorry. I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you,” Wendell said.

  Brad tried to laugh it off, but the sound he made brought a flush to his skin instead. “Want some coffee?”

  Wendell smiled at him. “Sure.”

  “So, what are you doing in Wyoming exactly?” Brad asked as he poured a cup for Wendell. His hands felt unsure of themselves–again. “You’re staying with some guy named Charles?” Brad figured he should know upfront if Charles were the jealous type.

  “Yeah, he was my first lover, but there’s nothing romantic now. He’s about twenty-five years older than I am, and we met when I was just nineteen. I have a sense of loyalty to him, though. Last year, he was diagnosed with advanced colon cancer. I’ve been here the past seven months trying to help him out. He hasn’t spoken with his family in years.”

  Brad nodded, impressed with Wendell’s devotion. “I’m sorry. How’s he doing?”

  “I don’t know. Every time I think his chances are worse than slim, he pulls off another miraculous recovery.” Wendell swiped his hand through his brown hair. He had shaved today, so he neither had the rugged appearance of a mountain man, nor the metrosexual imitation of one. Instead he looked seriously kissable, like for long stretches at a time. Brad felt himself blush when Wendell caught his observation of him.

  “Well, that was really nice of you. To leave your job and home to help him out.”

  Wendell smiled at him again. He sloped against the counter with one arm bracing against it, his long legs crossed casually in front of him. “I had a couple other reasons for leaving LA, too.”

  Brad wanted to ask what they were, but he figured Wendell would tell him if he felt like divulging.

  “You have a bedroom here?” Wendell asked, his eyes never having left Brad’s. The blue depth to them was breathtaking.

  A steamy exhalation made its way past Brad’s lips. He hesitated only an instant before deciding he’d love to get laid. And not just by anyone, but by this broad shouldered, gorgeous hunk, with whom he’d have little chance under normal circumstances. Besides, it really had been too long.

  “Up the stairs and to the right,” Brad said as if giving directions to the bathroom. Well, no one could accuse him of being the most seductive man alive. Brad wasn't like a lot of men in his line of work, for obvious reasons. Global obsession with money had made his chosen career path sexy–in some cases, sinful–but Brad was still just a numbers guy in the end.

  Wendell smiled at him. Then he lifted Brad off his feet and kissed him, wrapping Brad’s legs around his waist and squeezing his ass.

  Brad grunted involuntarily at the commanding clutch. No one had ever demonstrated such open lust for him, especially sober, and it threw him off for a second.

  After they climbed their way to the bedroom, Wendell helped Brad undress. For a moment, Brad was stark naked under the gaze of a completely attired model. He tried to tighten his stomach muscles as Wendell checked him out inch by i
nch.

  After he seemed to have his fill, smiling in approval, Wendell took his own clothes off. He stood and gave Brad time to admire his outstanding physique. Unlike his own nervous flagpole, Wendell’s seemed sturdier than a baseball bat. Brad reached out and pulled on it, then took him in his mouth. In response, Wendell looked him in the eye and turned Brad's stomach to mush.

  Pushing Brad onto his back now, Wendell lay on top of him. The full body, skin-to-skin contact felt better than Brad remembered, and every part of him was now in the game. Wendell rubbed at his waist and flicked his tongue over Brad’s nipples. When he bit down lightly, an arousing pain took hold.

  In turn, Brad stroked Wendell, trying to move him along so Brad wouldn’t feel so bad if he released too soon. He couldn’t wait much longer. It wasn’t just the last few days. It was all the time since Michael had dumped him. They rolled around several times, switching positions, until Wendell outright asked him if he would prefer top or bottom.

  “Oh,” Brad muttered. He wasn't thinking they were going to go that far and didn’t know how to answer. His selfish ex had always wanted to top him, and Brad never thought he’d desire to bottom for anyone ever again. Suddenly that was not the case. He wanted Wendell inside of him. He yearned to see proof of the pleasure his body could light that beautiful face up with.

  Before he had time to respond, Wendell said, “Fine, I’ll decide.” He reached to the floor to his jeans, whipped out a condom and a small packet of lube, and then held Brad’s legs up by the hamstrings.

  *******

  Wendell wanted to lounge around a little afterward with his arms wrapped around Brad–something else Michael was never willing to do. For the first time, Brad started realizing what a heartless jerk his ex had been, even without the infidelity. All this time, Brad had still blamed himself, at least partly, for their breakup. Now he knew he just needed to move on.

  “What else made you leave California, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Wendell moved his head so he could gaze into Brad’s eyes. “Well, the biggest part really was Charles. But I also got my heart broken by a spineless weasel. On top of that, my agent and the studio kept wanting me to get silicon implants.”

  “What? Where?” Brad asked.