The Priest's Tale - 6. Chapter 6

After the meal, Peter, Baxter, and Julio sat on the side porch with another bottle of wine. The evening was cool with a light breeze.

“Smell the bay in the air?” Bax asked.

“Mm-hm. That’s nice,” Peter nodded.

Julio wrinkled his nose. “It smells fine now, but depending on which way the wind is blowing, odors like dead fish, diesel fuel, and plain old garbage can come in on the air from the bay.”

They fell silent, sipping their glasses and listening to the serenade of tree frogs. Peter started to nod off.

“So, tell us about yourself, Doctor Ruxton,” Julio urged.

Peter had been debating what to say when this question inevitably came up. He had rehearsed what he hoped would serve as a satisfactory curriculum vitae, omitting everything about his being a Catholic priest for more than ten years.

“I grew up in the Midwest, went to university at St John’s in Minnesota, then did graduate work in Saint Louis. Along the way, I taught, first high school and then college. I imagined I was set for life, but I had some major issues with the... uh... administration, and decided I needed a fresh start somewhere new.”

“I noticed from your application that all your education was in Catholic institutions. Are you a practicing Catholic?” Baxter was nothing if not direct.

“I guess you could call me a somewhat-lapsed Catholic. I haven’t left the Church, although I sometimes feel as though the Church left me, for a whole variety of reasons.”

“Same for me,” Julio said. “Born and raised Catholic, but higher learning tends to do a number on child-like faith. Don’t you agree... Padre?”

Peter’s head jerked up. “Padre?”

“Well, you are, or at least you were, a priest, weren’t you?” The young man said, feigning innocence.

“Your résumé did an excellent job of establishing your credentials without revealing too much.” Bax interjected. “So of course I investigated further. My responsibility, after all, is to ensure that only the best faculty teach at Hayward.”

Peter reddened. Sighing, he faced the two men seated across from him. “You’ve found me out. I was determined not to allow my... former career... to affect my chances for the position, and the situation is still too recent for me to explain. I guess I haven’t fully processed it yet.”

Bax replied, “Say no more. You don’t need to explain anything. Your business is yours alone. Tell us whatever you want, or don’t. We won’t pry.”

Looking Peter in the eye, he added, “I’m sorry if Julio’s little verbal slip upset you. I have learned not to tell him things I don’t want to read on the university message boards, but I confess I had to let this one out, only to him. I mean, how often do we meet an ex-priest, let alone have one in our home?”

Peter pondered this for a moment. “Guys, let's be clear. I’m not ashamed of anything. It was a life I loved, but it came time for a change, admittedly a major one, and I’m set on living my new life fully. I’d appreciate if this didn’t go any farther than the three of us... unless it already has?”

“Oh, hell no. You needn’t worry. If and when you’re ready to make this public, you’ll do so yourself. No, no. Your secret is safe with us.”

True to his promise, his host dropped the subject. The conversation following the brief painful moment turned lighthearted, if a bit profane for Peter’s taste. Baxter’s dirty jokes got raunchier the more he drank. Peter also detected an increasing sexual context to them, but he resolved not to pay attention.

Finally, Baxter checked his watch and turned to Julio.

“Well, my young friend, past your bedtime!” He teased and slapped him on the thigh, leaving his hand on the assistant’s knee and beginning to massage it gently. Bax smiled knowingly at Peter and winked. Peter simply stared back at him.

Roughly shaking Julio’s leg, Bax asked, “Shall we retire and let our guest enjoy his first night’s sleep in his new bed?”

Peter got to his feet. “Well, all I can say is, thank you so much, for so many things. Your beautiful house, my comfortable ‘room,’ the delightful dinner, and the pleasant company.”

The three said good-night.

Peter wearily walked to the door separating his apartment, as he was now calling it, from the rest of the house. As he made his way toward his room, two sets of footsteps trudged up the stairs above his head.

An old house like this has thin walls and floors. Let’s hope neither of them snores!

Peter washed his face, brushed his teeth, and slipped into his pajamas.

The night air was cool but not unpleasant, so he opened a window. The singing frogs seemed to increase their joyful cacophony for his benefit.

Exhausted, not merely from the three-day cross-country journey, but from the recent emotional strain, Peter stretched out in the comfortable bed.

He began to mull over events of the past two weeks. Images of Monsignor Dugan, Bishop Murray, the Duncans, and especially Dan shuffled about in his head. So much had happened in such a short span of time.

I will need a while to think this all out. But nothing else is gonna happen tonight.

His thoughts receded and he was about to doze off. Even the frogs had given up and gone to sleep.

The quiet of the night was suddenly invaded by a surprising jumble of sounds, which appeared to come from the room over his. Listening intently, he sprang from his bed and stared in shock at the ceiling.

The hodge-podge of noise began to separate itself into distinct components.

Through the floorboards above his head, he could hear the rhythmic squeak of old bed springs, along with a tapping that sounded like a headboard banging against the wall behind it.

To his dismay, he soon identified voices moaning—whether out of pain or pleasure he couldn’t say.

Then the words, “Fuck me, baby! Oh, fuck yeah. Harder! Oh shit!” became clear, and he recognized Julio’s voice.

He and Baxter are in the room above mine, and they are... well, they have to be having sex... fucking, as Dan would want me to name it. They were putting on a show for me all evening with their innuendo and little intimate touches, and now this. Obviously, the two of them are lovers!

Quickly donning his robe and slippers, he hurried from his room and went outdoors, intending to put some distance between himself and the clamor of carnal pleasure to which he was an unwilling audience.

Standing in the back yard, he gazed up angrily toward the room from which the racket originated.

Through the half-open window, the sensual words and moans sounded a lot louder from where he stood.

It’s almost as if they are taunting me, wanting me to know what they’re up to.

His eyes searched frantically for somewhere to hide himself until whatever was going on up above him ceased.

His gaze took him to the far corner of the house.

He spied a wooden stairway leading up to a second-floor porch that dead-ended at the room with the open window.

Peter was surprised to find himself both repulsed and attracted by the blatant eroticism so nearby.

Part of me wants to put as much distance as possible between my ears and those disgusting noises.

Another part of him, though, longed to see what he couldn’t even imagine Bax and Julio were doing.

I’m not a child. I realize they’re having sex—gay sex. They’re actually doing what I believe Dan wanted to do with me... and what I was willing to do with him, even without knowing how, or what it would be like.

Torn between his deeply-ingrained sense of decency and a growing ache in his body to somehow witness what his brain informed him was happening, Peter sighed in resignation and gave in to temptation.

Hesitantly, he took a deep breath and quietly made his way over to the wooden stair.

Climbing the steps in silence, he crouched down as he stealthily approached the open window.

As he inched toward the source of the raucous disturbance, Peter heard the clamor grow louder.

Are they so absorbed in whatever activity they’re engaging in that they don’t care who hears? Or... are they doing it for my benefit? Why would they?

Crouching below the sill, he concealed himself with the window frame and warily peeked around it with one eye.

I want to see this... and yet I don’t. I mean, I can hear what’s happening—those two are leaving nothing to the imagination. Something tells me that seeing whatever is going on in there is gonna change me forever. But I think I’m ready for that to happen.

In the darkness no lights were on, but the bright moonlight from outside cast a pale glow into the room.

In only a few seconds, Peter saw all he needed to.

Julio was on his knees and elbows on the bed, his face buried in the pillow. His rear-end stuck up in the air and his back was arched.

Bax was behind him on his knees with his back straight up. With one hand, he tightly gripped Julio’s shoulder, while his other hand had a firm grasp on his lover’s long black hair.

Julio was at the mercy of the raw sexual power of the man behind him who was rapidly plunging his penis deep between the younger man’s buttocks.

With each powerful pelvic thrust into him, Bax propelled Julio forward, toward the head of the bed. The springs complained loudly and the iron headboard slammed into the wall.

So this is what gay men... fucking... looks like. They are so focused on what they’re doing, I guess passion must override pain for Julio.

In the little bed, Baxter’s ass cheeks clenched tightly at the apex of each thrust and relaxed as he pulled back out, only to repeat the cycle as he plowed his lover almost violently.

Julio grunted loudly at every deep penetration and exclaimed words like “fuck” and “shit” repeatedly.

Bax’s own groans of ecstasy were more guttural, wordless.

Those two are so intent on their sexual pleasure that they are lost in another world—one I have never dreamed of. I can’t bear to watch any more!

Shocked and trembling with raw sexual arousal, Peter reluctantly tore himself away from the erotic scene, crept back to the stairs, and descended silently.

He sought refuge on a stone bench at the far reach of the back yard, praying he would not be able to hear anything more of the sexual frenzy he had witnessed.

The image of Baxter on his knees in the bed with Julio bent over like a dog in front of him seared in his memory.

Well, I wondered what gay sex was like. I guess I lost my innocence tonight. Now what the hell do I do? I can’t let them find out I spied on them, but how can I ever un-see it? Dammit!

He shook his head in disbelief.

Do they do that every night? How am I going to get any rest? Am I going to have to escape to this cold stone seat night after night? Shit! What have I gotten myself into?

Even as Peter struggled with these concerns, he became aware of another problem.

The picture of Baxter and Julio making love replayed in his mind endlessly.

To his horror and shame, he realized his cock was achingly hard.

Now what do I do? I can’t believe what I saw is having this effect on me. Damn them!

Like any boy or man, he had had sexual thoughts and had given in to the need to relieve himself more often than he could count. But this time, it seemed so wrong to pleasure himself over the fact that two other men were doing something he was afraid to do.

A sudden crescendo of moans from the two men having sex was more than he could endure.

He pictured Bax plunging deep inside Julio and filling him with his ejaculation with a bellow of primal pleasure.

Peter’s own hardness poked out of his pajama bottoms, pulsing with his heartbeat and aching for release.

Reluctantly, he decided to tuck it back in, hoping things would calm down now that the turmoil had ended.

But even the single touch proved too much.

His semen exploded out, soaking his lap and legs.

Crushing waves of relief reverberated through his body, and his breathing came fast and shallow.

It was over in seconds.

His body demanded to luxuriate in the afterglow, but his conscience denied him the pleasure, and he sprang to his feet, covered his damp crotch with both hands, and hurried back into the house and his bathroom.

Stripping off the wet pajamas, Peter wondered how he could clean them without anyone knowing what was on them. He plugged in the stopper, ran water into his sink, and submerged the fouled garment, leaving it for the morning.

He cleaned himself with the washcloth and dried with a plush towel. He dressed in fresh night clothes, dashed into his bed, and fell into a fitful sleep.

 

The next morning, Peter carefully dressed and made the bed. He had made up his mind to pack his suitcase and call a cab to take him to a hotel. The memory of last night’s events wouldn’t stop nagging at him.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he chided himself, What the hell is going on? What did I just witness? Is that something I want to do? Do I want to be with them, to join in? The very idea runs contrary to everything I have been taught and believe. But this is California, a very liberal place, and San Francisco is the gay mecca, so why am I so surprised?

He shook his head. I guess, because until last night, sex has not been a real ‘thing’ to me, not something I knew much about or thought about or had ever seen, let alone done. What did Dan accuse me of doing? Packing my bags and running away as soon as something challenged my beliefs. Am I really going to do it again? Hell no!

Leaving his packed suitcase on the bed, Peter stormed into the main house and turned toward the kitchen, from which the aroma of coffee and toast summoned him.

When he entered the room, Julio sat at his familiar place on a stool in back of the island counter.

Baxter stood at the stove, cooking bacon. Looking up, he said cheerily, “Morning, Peter! Sleep well?”

His guest glared at him for a full ten seconds before answering drily, “Well enough, once things got quiet, thank you.”

“Oh, I hope we didn’t keep you ‘up’ with all the ruckus we were making,” Julio said with a naughty grin.

“What you do in your own room is none of my business.” He tried hard to sound convincing.

“So true,” Bax agreed. “You see, we’re used to being in the house alone, so it didn’t occur to us we might be disturbing you until after... well, you know.”

“Yes, I do know, whether I wanted to or not.”

“Sorry. We’ll try to keep it down in the future, out of respect for your... sensitivities.” The older man was being coy, and the two of them were clearly having fun at Peter’s expense.

“Of course, if you wanted to join us, it would solve the whole problem,” Julio said, looking him right in the eye with a wicked determination.

Peter stared back at him, equally determined. “Sorry, but you’re not my type.”

“Oh!” Bax said. “So you have a type. What is it? Choirboys?”

The stony look in Peter’s eyes, and his enflaming face, immediately made his host regret his words.

Baxter quickly backtracked. “Oh shit! I was just kidding. Fuck! I joke around too goddamn much.”

“Some things are not joking material,” Peter spoke evenly.

Turning to Julio, he said steadily, “Would you pass me the coffee, please?”

The three said nothing for several uncomfortable minutes.

Bax finished cooking breakfast. He filled three plates with bacon, eggs, and toast. Handing one to the younger man, he said, “Put this on the table, will you, mijo?”

Peter sharply demanded, “What does that word mean?”

“It’s Spanish, Mexican to be specific. It means my son.” Julio explained. “A term of endearment.”

“So you two are lovers?”

Bax teased drily, “Given what you observed last night, that should be fairly obvious.”

Peter said nothing. Words escaped him. He scowled at his coffee.

Julio peered at him with curiosity. “You are gay, aren’t you?”

“What makes you think that?” Peter demanded.

Bax replied, “Well, based on what I witnessed on the train, I figured you and the man you were kissing in your doorway were not only gay, but also in love.”

“Whatever you may have seen was a private moment between friends, not fodder for idle speculation.”

“Oh, and what we did last night wasn’t a private moment between friends?” Bax smiled as though he had just check-mated Peter.

Peter’s face turned deep scarlet. “I’m... sorry. I shouldn’t have looked. There’s no way I can defend myself. It won’t happen again.”

Julio rushed in for the kill. “Are you sure you didn’t like what you saw? Didn’t it turn you on? It looked like it did. After you watched, didn’t you go down to the bench and jack off?”

This was more than Peter could bear. A tear formed in his eye and began its slow progress down his cheek.

The other men became alarmed, aware their cruel mocking had gone too far.

“I’ll get my things and call a taxi,” Peter said as he rose and headed for the doorway.

When he turned his back to them, they both jumped to their feet.

“No, wait,” Baxter implored. “We’re sorry, Peter. We were only teasing you.”

“We figured you were gay and trying to hide it.” Julio tried to defend the two of them. “Nobody hides anything out here, because everybody else is eager to ‘out’ them.”

Peter froze in his tracks. After a moment, he whirled around and returned to his chair at the table. “Please take a seat.” His words were an ask, but his tone was an order.

They obeyed silently.

“OK. Here it is. Yes, I am... probably... gay. I find it hard to say for sure because I have never had sex with anyone. And yes, it’s because I was a Catholic priest for ten years, and a seminarian since I was 17 years old.”

He regarded his house-mates. “As a former acquaintance told me, what difference does your sexual orientation make if you have pledged life-long celibacy?”

They just stared at him, afraid to say anything else. “Until now, I failed to appreciate the wisdom of his words. I have zero experience with sex of any kind, and I have deliberately shielded myself from pornography, which I realize is how everyone learns about sex these days.”

His gaze bore into the two men. “I’ve never been with a man, or a woman, in that way. On the train, I met...”

He took a deep, shaky breath. “Dan O’Niall... a gentle, smart, loving man, and I thought we were meant for each other.”

Lowering his head at the painful memory, he went on, “As the moment arrived when our love would become physical, I was... eager... to let him do whatever he wanted to me. But he was so kind and tender he didn’t want to rush me...”

“What happened?” Julio’s voice was plaintive. It was clear he was distressed by the direction the teasing had taken.

“Before dawn, he got off the train unexpectedly. He left me a note, but it didn’t say much, certainly not that he loved me and would come back to me some day.”

Peter sniffled. “So later the same day I met Dr Bill Baxter, the Vice Provost who hired me. You were friendly, kind, and it never occurred to me you might be gay. Then I realized I would be working with you, so of course I welcomed your attention and thoughtfulness.”

He swallowed and composed himself. “And look where it got me. Here I am, a confused and wounded gay man living with two other gay men whose joy and pleasure seems to be to make my life miserable. Thank you very much.”

Julio shook his head sadly. “¡Mierda! And here we are. A bigger fuck-up I could not imagine!”

“Exactly,” Peter said drily.

The three men sat in silence, avoiding looking at each other.

Finally, Baxter cleared his throat.

“I can’t deny anything you’ve said, Peter. It’s true, we were having fun at your expense, and that’s fucking wrong in so many ways. Sadly, it’s something gay men are notorious for doing. We can be meaner than goddamn middle-school girls sometimes. It’s almost second nature.”

“But we didn’t mean to hurt you, although I’m sure you can’t believe us,” Julio added.

Both men hung their heads, hoping Peter would say something.

I can be a jerk and let them suffer, or I can at least accept their apologies and then get the hell out of this place.

He took a deep breath. “I get it. You were just kidding, although in the worst possible way.”

They nodded hopefully.

“But that kind of teasing is cruel and painful and demeaning and... I could add a thousand words. And you knew it.”

“I’m really sorry,” Julio croaked. He was tearing up.

Peter reached over and softly patted the top of the young man’s hand.

“I understand. You went too far—last night and again this morning. What I don’t understand is what possible outcome were you hoping for? Did you actually think it would inspire me to join you in bed?”

“I’m embarrassed to admit that thinking was not a significant aspect of our plans,” Bax confessed.

“Can you forgive us, Peter?” Julio pleaded. He looked up into Peter’s eyes.

Goddammit, this is just like it was with Jubb. They’re like children who acted without thinking and are now crushed that it turned out so badly.

With a sigh, Peter began, “Yes, Julio, I can forgive you. I’ve spent most of my life giving absolution, so this isn’t so different.”

He saw the look of relief on the younger man’s face. Baxter, however, remained guarded.

“I can and do forgive you, but I still feel I can’t stay here with you. You’ve crossed a line and hurt me deeply. I can’t imagine any way that the three of us could continue to live in the same house, or even be friends.”

“Let’s not be too hasty,” Bax hurried to respond. “Yes, we went too far. Yes, we hurt you. And yes, we are shits for doing it.”

Peter looked up at him.

“But what we did was only meant as teasing. We know words can hurt as badly as blows, but if you can find it in yourself to give us a second chance, I know we can demonstrate our good sides to you, and perhaps in some way make up for the harm we’ve done.”

He patted Peter’s hand. “We truly like you, Peter, and we hope you’ll not only forgive us, but also stay with us.”

Peter thought a long while.

Finally, he looked Bax in the eye, then Julio.

“OK. Here it is. As I said, you are forgiven. I’m not going to give you absolution because I don’t do that any more. But I am going to give you penance.”

They were both wide-eyed.

So much like school-boys that it’s scary.

“From this moment on, you will keep all your sexual words and actions, even including little intimacies, out of my sight and hearing. You can kiss and hug and... all the rest, but only when I’m not present with you. And you will absolutely do nothing to try to involve me or draw me into your sex games.”

Julio hung his head.

“And yes, I know that’s a sacrifice because it seems to me that you two do love each other, although what precisely is the dynamic between you escapes me. Nevertheless, that’s the condition I will insist on if I’m to stay here.”

Bax looked back at Peter. “I would say it’s totally unfair to expect us not to share ‘little intimacies’ as you call them, but I have to admit we deserve this punishment, and we do want you to stay with us. Don’t we, mijo?”

“De veres. We sure do, Peter. And we want you to know we’re not a couple of animals who can only fuck around all the time. We can act like adults, and we will.”

Peter smiled warmly, showing his forgiveness and affection for his two house-mates.

“In that case, we have an agreement. We’ll keep trying. But please don’t think this deal only lasts until I forget what you did. This is the house rule from now on. OK?”

They both nodded in agreement.

“Can I hug you now?” Julio pleaded.

“As long as that’s all you do.”

Julio sprang to his feet and embraced Peter warmly.

“Me too?” Bax inquired humbly.

Peter laughed. “Why not, you old sod?”

The three joined in a group hug, which the chastened men made sure didn’t last long enough to make Peter uncomfortable.

“Now, can we get to class?” Peter smiled.