GWM - 2. Chapter 2 of 18

Kurt

When the whistling started, Harry couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It was two AM. He was probably one of the few people in town awake. At first, he thought he’d imagined it. He’d been playing Mozart, low. Occasionally, there was an echo.
He turned down the music and listened, but heard nothing. He walked to his front balcony. From the third floor, he had a clear view of the center of town -- the churches, banks, police station, library. Not a car, or cat, moved on the street. He went back to his desk, sure he’d just needed a break.
It came again. He killed Mozart and tried to recognize the tune. The police station was next door, with its tiny jail. But if a cop whistled, or a lonely drunk, it shouldn’t carry to Harry’s bedroom.
He stood on the back balcony, aware of work-time passing. He liked working late. There were few distractions. Other than those he made himself.
At his desk again, he was sure of the sound -- and the direction: the shaded gazebo in the small town square. From his bedroom window, he could see someone sitting on a bench.
Earlier that spring, a woman had lived in the park for several days, until the police moved her. Harry wondered if she’d crept back in.
But she’d been ancient. This person was blond.
Harry went to the front balcony, deciding he’d worked long enough. He could clearly see a man. In addition to whistling, he was fumbling with something under his shirt.
Probably a beer. The square was off-limits for drinking, no matter what the hour. But what was under the guy’s shirt never came up to his mouth, though his hand often did. Then Harry saw the glow of a cigarette... or a joint.
So there was a blond guy, sitting in the town square at two AM, getting high. That seemed stupid, considering how near the police station was. Though the world wasn’t full of geniuses.
Or of people who could mind their own business.
And there was this familiar gesture, near the guy’s waist. Surely, no matter how high some idiot, he wouldn’t sit in the town square, in the middle of the night, daring the cops by jerking off?
And no intelligent man would be dumb enough to investigate, Harry thought, heading downstairs.
From street level, he could see the guy was young, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. Closer, Harry saw the cigarette, could recognize the tune.
It was an old Beatles’ song. As Harry approached, it stopped. The man froze. For a moment, he and Harry stared at each other.
“You okay?” Harry finally asked.
The man looked away.
“I heard whistling,” Harry said. “Couldn’t figure it out.”
The guy said nothing. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk.
“It distracted me,” Harry went on.
The man studied Harry, possibly thinking it didn’t take much to distract him. Lately, he wouldn’t have been wrong. Especially about guys.
“‘Long as you’re all right,” Harry told him. He wanted to stay, but had no reason. Still, he stalled. “You know where the police station is?”
The man simply glanced across the street, at the dark Civil War era building.
Harry nodded, reluctant to leave. “If you’re really doing what I think,” he said -- one final lunge -- “there are better places.”
The guy grinned. “You could see that?”
Harry smiled. “Enough.” He made the familiar gesture.
The man laughed. His T-shirt gathered loosely in his lap. He adjusted the folds.
“You know how it is,” he said. “You work late... get home with all this energy... You’re too wired to sleep...” His voice trailed off.
“Where do you work?” Harry asked.
“Halfway house in Springfield.”
“Counseling?”
“Zoo keeping.” The man smiled, quickly adding, “Nah, they’re mainly kids. With drug problems. Lousy parents. I listen, more than anything.”
“Probably helps.”
“Easy work.”
And conversation died.
Harry waited. The man flicked ash from his cigarette. Together, they studied the police station.
“You could lose your job,” Harry finally said. “Cops pick you up.”
“For playing with myself?”
They laughed, but the man soon admitted, “You’re probably right.” He inhaled, then was silent.
“If I leave,” Harry went on, “will you start again?”
The man hesitated.
“I know a better place,” Harry offered.
The man looked at him.
“I live across the street.”
Harry pointed to his building. From the third floor, his apartment lights beamed.
“Alone?” the man asked.
Harry nodded.
“What do you have in mind?”
Harry hesitated, indicating the police station. “Nothing to talk about here.”
The man studied Harry -- for what seemed a very long time. Then he flipped his cigarette to the ground... Pushed back his hair... Slowly stood.
“Name’s Kurt,” he said. Smiling.
“Harry.”
They shook hands.
It was stupid, Harry thought. He’d been trying to meet a guy for months -- years, if he was really honest. Then he stumbles on a guy... Sitting in his own front yard.
“You’re sure?” Kurt suddenly asked.
Harry looked at him. “Absolutely.” He wouldn’t back down.
Kurt grinned. “Let’s go.”
They crossed the street. Once past the small lobby, Harry led Kurt, quietly as possible, up two flights of squeaking stairs. In his apartment, he motioned toward the shower.
Neither of them needed to wash, but Harry thought a familiar routine might calm him. He was breathing double. His hands shook. He wondered when to mention he’d never done this kind of thing before.
In the bathroom, they slowly undressed. Kurt wore no underwear, no surprise. Though Harry was in decent shape, he left the light off. Still, the room was bright enough to see Kurt’s wedding ring.
Was Harry pissed?
You bet.
Would he throw Kurt out?
Be real.
So much for Nick and self-righteousness. And Harry wondered: if Nick had been better-looking... Younger... Less sleazy... Would his being married really have mattered?
Yet what could be sleazier than a guy jerking off in public?
Harry decided that soaping a soft blond man, for the first time in his life, was no time to debate morality.
He washed Kurt’s hair. Slowly spread suds down his back. Massaged his smooth shoulders. Kurt suddenly turned, and Harry hands slid across his chest, down his sides, stopping high on his slippery legs. So close to what he wanted. But for all he’d imagined, he wasn’t ready.
Kurt let himself be led. He stood in the water, until it ran clear. Hands dangling by his sides, he let himself be kissed. Finally, Harry knelt.
And everything he knew about sex suddenly exploded in his mind.
Easing from Kurt, Harry simply stood, holding the man. They rocked, slowly, almost dancing. Kurt laughed.
Out of the shower, Harry dried Kurt. Casually leaning against the wall, they kissed. Then they moved to Harry’s bed.
“Better than outside?” Harry asked. Too coy, but what the hell.
“Yeah,” Kurt said.
He looked great. A nice chest. Narrow waist. Almost delicate hips. The soft hair on his arms was transparent. On his chest, it slowly turned brown.
On his belly, almost invisible, ran a narrow scar. Harry traced it without question.
“Cancer,” Kurt told him, quietly. “Four years ago. But they caught it in time.”
Harry was surprised.
“And I don’t come as I did. I shoot, but it stays inside. If anything, it’s too intense.”
Harry didn’t know what to say. “‘Long as you’re all right.”
“Oh, yeah... Yeah.”
They slowly explored. Harry had been with women. Intimacy was easy. But his emotions were raw.
“You always like guys?” he asked. Sometime later. They were lying entwined.
“Guys liked me,” Kurt told him, lightly. “Till eighth grade, I was even more blond. Everyone here’s dark... Irish... Italian... Guys loved sucking me off.”
“Straight guys?”
“Boys... yeah.”
“You’re kidding.”
“They were curious.”
“And your wife?”
It was the first time Harry had mentioned her. Kurt didn’t seem to notice.
“She’s better than anyone,” he said, smiling. “Then she’s had more practice.”
They laughed.
“I’ve always liked girls,” Kurt went on. “I could let guys blow me ‘cause everyone knew we were just messing around. And I started sleeping around early. Hell, I got Judy pregnant in tenth grade.”
“How old are you?”
The more they talked, the younger Kurt seemed.
“Twenty-six.”
Six years younger than Harry.
“You have kids?”
“One... a boy... even blonder than I was. After Chris, well, we had to be careful. Finish school and all. Find jobs. By the time we wanted another, I was sick.” Kurt was silent. Then: “It’s really too bad. We’d really like a girl.”
Harry considered. “What’s your wife do?”
Kurt hesitated, and Harry wondered if he’d pushed too far. “Cuts hair,” Kurt finally said. “She’ll have her own shop someday. Right now, she works in the mall. I work second shift so someone’s always home. When you’ve got one kid... only one... it’s so dangerous. So much can go wrong. I sometimes wish Chris was grown, with his own kids. I could relax.”
Harry laughed. “You don’t seem tense.”
Kurt grinned. “I hardly do this anymore. With guys. Don’t know why tonight. Maybe ‘cause Judy was asleep, and I was really horned.” He looked at Harry and slowly started stroking his chest.
Harry could almost fly.
He gently rolled Kurt’s cock in his fingers. Kurt leaned against the pillows. Too quickly, he shuddered, hips lifting from the bed.
“You didn’t come?” Harry asked. He didn’t want this to end.
Kurt laughed. “No... no, you’ll know when that happens. I’ll try not to scream.”
That’s all Harry needed. “What was it then?” he asked.
Kurt seemed to think. “A chill.”
Harry smiled. “You’re sweating.”
Kurt grinned. “Yeah, well...” Then he suddenly grabbed Harry’s cock. Sucked it, something he hadn’t done before. Women always handled Harry gently, as it seemed they liked to be touched. Kurt sucked athletically.
“Don’t,” Harry said.
Kurt wouldn’t stop
“Please... I’m too close.”
Kurt went on.
“I don’t want to,” Harry insisted. “Not yet.”
This confused Kurt.
“It’s all too new,” Harry finally had to admit. “My first time with a guy. I can’t take that much pressure.”
Kurt laughed. Teeth gleaming. Eyes twinkling. The whole damn thing. “You’re putting me on,” he said. “You seemed to know so much... Be so far ahead of me. I nearly came three times in the shower.”
Harry was delighted.
“You watch those hands, boy,” Kurt warned. “Guys’ll give you their lives.”
He kissed Harry, boyishly rolled on top of him. He licked Harry’s balls, sucked his toes, tickled the soles of his feet. He seemed to try everything he knew -- working hard to please the new guy.
“Still not yet?” he asked at one point.
“A little longer,” Harry managed.
“O - K!”
And through it all, Kurt wouldn’t stop joking. Asking if this was all right. If that was. Harry assured Kurt that nothing he did could ever be wrong.
To be honest, Harry just liked looking at the guy. He’d seen plenty of naked men before. Online. In the gym. Occasionally at the beach. But this one he could touch.
Kurt wasn’t always hard, and he wasn’t huge. But Harry could touch every inch of his body. When he licked Kurt’s ears, the man groaned. And when Kurt groaned, his body seemed to bounce.
“You ready?” Harry finally asked.
“Weeks ago,” Kurt mumbled.
And Harry entered him. He started slowly, the only way he knew. He started with Kurt on his back, legs against his chest. Then Harry pulled Kurt off the bed. He bent Kurt over the mattress and pounded till he was sure Kurt couldn’t last. Then he pulled Kurt to his feet, flattened his chest against the wall, and made him wiggle standing up. When Kurt seemed ready to scream, Harry stuck his fingers in Kurt’s mouth, hoping he wouldn’t bite.
Instead, Kurt pushed Harry to the floor. He pulled off Harry’s rubber and sucked his cock. And Harry couldn’t take it anymore.
Harry knew Kurt was coming, too. The only thing that stopped him from screaming was Harry’s dick in his mouth. Then Kurt jerked away.
He spat. Spat again. He kept spitting, till he ran from the room. Then Harry heard water running. When Kurt finally returned, he looked embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really.”
“It’s my fault,” Harry admitted.
“I thought you’d pull away.”
“I thought you’d know.”
Kurt shook his head. He slowly sat down next to Harry. Harry was leaning against the bed, wondering what to do next. After a moment, Kurt said, “I used to love the taste. It was the best thing. Better than Judy. But now...”
He studied Harry, long enough for Harry to feel awful. “I’m sorry,” Harry began. Kurt cut him off.
“You swear you’ve never been with a guy?”
“Only women,” Harry said. And Kurt studied him.
“You wouldn’t lie?” Kurt said.
“I couldn’t. Honest.”
Kurt finally laughed. “Man, that was great!” He grinned. Stretched on the floor. Arched his back. “It’s been too long.”
Harry laughed, too, relieved. That had been close. Then he realized what he’d finally done and wanted to start all over.
Kurt was soon lying beside him, tracing imaginary patterns on Harry’s chest. Harry thought he’d never seen a man so handsome. He kissed Kurt. Kurt nuzzled him back.
“Need something to drink?” Harry asked eventually.
Kurt considered. “A beer?”
“Sure.”
But when Harry came back, Kurt was looking out the window. “It’s getting light,” he said. “I didn’t realize how late... how early... it was. Judy’ll be getting up.”
“That a problem?”
“Not if I get back. But I need to wash.”
They showered again, more quickly than before. Soaping each other, then stopping, then remembering they had to rush. Dressed again, propped against a wall, they kissed till the room was far too bright.
“Thanks,” Kurt finally said. And there was a moment when Harry swore he might not leave. Then Kurt smiled again and was gone.
From the front balcony, Harry watched Kurt cross the street. He cut the town square, passed the gazebo, then disappeared behind overgrown shrubs. As suddenly, Harry realized he had no way of reaching the man. No phone number or address. He didn’t even know Kurt’s last name.
He took off. Down the stairs. Into the park. But when he reached the bushes, Kurt had vanished.
He needed to see Kurt again, couldn’t imagine never touching him again. For an hour, Harry walked the still-empty neighborhood. Not looking for Kurt, so much as unwilling to let the morning start. Finally, he went home.
He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t relax. He almost didn’t want to. He just wanted to sit back and remember. He filled his tub. Soaked. Finally, reluctantly, dressed for work.
He smiled his way through the day. Through meetings and lunch. Letting everything blur. That night, he couldn’t wait to watch the town square.
Starting when he thought second shift broke. Ending near two. But the bench stayed empty.
He watched all week. One night, he even walked into the park. Wondering what he’d say if he ran into a cop.
He sat on the bench, humming Sergeant Pepper’s. But he proved no lure.
Home early one afternoon, he wandered in the direction Kurt had gone. Trying, casually, to look for a blond man, maybe mowing his lawn. Or for the blond guy’s son, playing among dark-haired friends.
And what I found him? Harry wondered. What then? Could I tell the kid I’m just a little in love with his dad?
Kurt never reappeared. And before seeing him again became an obsession, Harry gave up. Occasionally, late at night, he’d glance at the empty square. Expecting nothing. But smiling.