Coming to Love - 3. A New Home, Briefly

The miles sped past—up Interstate 5 through Sacramento, Mount Shasta, Eugene and Portland in Oregon, and finally crossing into Washington state. Mind-numbed by the hum of the tires on the road and the purr of the Mustang’s 351-cubic-inch Cleveland V8 engine, I couldn’t help thinking about my next adventure in life.

My destination was Renton, a suburb of Seattle, where I was to live in an extended-stay apartment paid for by my employer. I would be sharing it with three other employees of the Worldwide Aero Corporation—at least for the six-month trial period for new hires. If I still had the job, I could either start paying for a place of my own in the same complex or find other accommodations.

My starting salary was generous, especially for 1991, but not unheard of for a first-timer in the competitive high-tech arena where I was going to work. The interviewers seemed to be impressed with my Master’s in Engineering and also my MBA, and I got the sense they believed I would go far.

My new home was a 14-hour drive from Palo Alto, and I wasn’t in a hurry, so I stopped for a leisurely dinner and made a couple of pit stops along the way. The trip ended up consuming a little over 16 hours, and I was damn near exhausted when I parked the Mustang at the address of the apartment and knocked on the door.

Foolishly, I didn’t consider the impact on my prospective roommates of my arriving at three o’clock on a Saturday morning. A guy opened the door in his boxer shorts and stared at me like I had two heads. An irritated scowl bespoke his pissed-off demeanor.

“And you would be?” he groggily demanded in an upper-class British accent.

“Um. Sorry. I’m Bruce Hutton. I live here now.”

“You picked one hell of a time to arrive, Bruce Hutton,” he pointed out acidly.

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry about this. I left Palo Alto this morning and kept driving without noticing the time. I guess I should have checked into a motel when I got here, but I wasn’t thinking straight.”

He looked me up and down before smirking and raising an eyebrow. "Not thinking straight? Is that so?” He snickered wickedly and then shook the thought out of his head. “Apology accepted. I’d rather just gone to bed and hadn’t fallen asleep yet. I’m pulling your chain, as they say.” He stuck out his hand, “By the way, I’m Freddie Carlisle.”

I grinned as I took his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Freddie.”

“Need any help with your kit?” His offer was half-hearted at best, obviously hoping I’d say no.

“No, thanks. I’ll be fine. I’m only going to bring in one suitcase for the night, and I’ll take care of the rest in the morning...uh, later in the morning.” I sheepishly shot him an apologetic look.

Following him into the foyer, I noted the spacious living room on the right, with a big-screen TV console. Two couches faced each other, flanked by a couple of side tables. Two desks were placed under a picture window. The generic paintings decorating the walls were worthy of any hotel room.

Doors opened into a coat closet and a small lavatory. The foyer funneled into a hallway, which I could see led to a kitchen/dining area on the right, and the first of several bedrooms on the left.

“So let’s sort you. There are four bedrooms, and each has a loo en suite.” As I followed him, Freddie spoke softly, so as not to wake the other tenants. “You’re the last to arrive, so you get the shittiest room. It’s at the end of the hall, opposite the laundry and utility rooms.”

“Just my luck!” I exclaimed, but I wasn’t all that disappointed—a room was a room, and it would only be for six months anyway.

As we treaded lightly down the hall, Freddie identified each room by its occupant.

The first was his—a sign that he was the first to take up residence and therefore titular head of household, which I already picked up from his demeanor and tone of voice.

His room was followed by two on opposite sides of the hall. “This is Alison Connor, our only female roomie, and this other belongs to Daniel Chou, who boasts a Ph.D. from MIT and will remind you of it a hundred times a day if you let him.”

I shook my head and chuckled.

“And from whence do you hail?” Freddie inquired, cocking his head to the side.

“Stanford—B.S. and M.S. in Engineering, plus an MBA.”

“Impressive—” Freddie mused.

“And you?” I asked, a bit shyly.

“Oxford for bachelor’s with honours, then London School of Economics for a doctorate.” He feigned modesty.

“Really? I didn’t realize you could study aerospace engineering at those places.”

“I. Didn’t.” he enunciated slowly, sounding pissed. “I’m not an engineer. I’m a financial analyst. Worldwide Aero needs somebody to keep track of the big bucks we pay to hot-shot rocket jocks like you three!”

I stood speechless until Freddie grinned, “Of course, I wouldn’t have a job at all if you scientific folk weren’t turning out new products like there’s no fucking tomorrow!”

I laughed a little too loudly, earning a stern glare from Freddie. I cringed, and he smiled, “We are all adults here, and we tend to make a bit of noise from time to time, especially behind closed doors—”

He paused and raised an eyebrow to confirm I picked up his not-so-subtle hint. He added, “But we do make an effort to respect one another’s need for privacy and quiet.” He said privacy with the British pronunciation.

“I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Not to worry. You’ll round out our little group quite well, I’m sure.”

He stopped outside the room assigned as my home for the next several months. It was small, but nowhere near as tiny as my shared freshman dorm room at Stanford.

When Freddie touched the wall switch, a lamp on a bedside table flooded the room with light, revealing a queen-sized bed, a desk, double doors to the closet, plus a smaller door into the bathroom. The soft beige paint, sand-colored carpet, and chocolate brown curtains far exceeded a dorm room’s bland neutral sameness.

“Worldwide Aero spares no expense.” Freddie announced cynically. We both chuckled. I suspected I was going to learn a lot more about my new employer from living here than by working in the office, where I imagined everyone would be on their best behavior.

Watching me take in my surrounding, Freddie appeared mildly amused. “I imagine this is a step down from your deluxe flat in Palo Alto.”

Shocked, I turned abruptly and stared at him in surprise. “How did you—”

He didn’t let me finish. “Your bio is already posted on the internal company website, as are all of ours. Don’t be surprised if people talk to you like they know you. Worldwide tries to foster a culture of easy-going friendship and camaraderie. Even the execs are on a first-name basis with everyone.” He winked at me as if it were an inside joke. I didn’t get it.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I wondered what he was implying, and whether I should have picked up on some kind of hint.

Freddie proceeded in a friendly tone. “Only, as I said, I’ve just come in myself. I’m a bit of a night-owl. Would you like a drink or anything?”

I was exhausted after driving for sixteen hours. Still, something about the way he spoke and kept looking at me suggested he would like to share some of the easy-going friendship and camaraderie he was talking about.

“Uh, sure. I’m kinda beat, but I could use a drink or anything!”

“Righto, old chap. You’d best come through.”

I dropped my suitcase just inside the door, and he led me back up the hall to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he waved a hand to display several beer brands and a few wine bottles.

“What’s yer poison, pardner?” he mimicked a cowboy drawl. I laughed quietly and pointed to a bottle of white wine.

“Chablis, eh?” he approved. “You’re not quite the barbarian we Brits have been led to expect.” He poured both of us a glass.

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be offended. I gave him a you’ve-gotta-be-kidding look, which he picked up on immediately.

“Sorry, old chap,” he spoke contritely. “I’ve been known to overdo the Yanks-and-Brits bullshit from time to time. It’s late, and I’ve let down my guard a wee bit.”

I relaxed and smiled, “Not to worry. I have thick skin. We’re new to each other, and I don’t yet know how to read you—I can’t tell when you’re shitting me.”

Freddie laughed and moved in closer, handing me the glass of wine. “Well, let’s do something about being new to each other, shall we?” He leaned in, invading my space.

I didn’t budge. I was trying my best to be open, but my body was screaming to spend the next ten hours in bed—alone.

“Are you always this forward?” I made an effort to sound coy.

“When the occasion merits.” He gave me a leering smile.

I stepped back deliberately. “I understand the occasion, but surely this is not the proper location? ”

His eyes, which were piercing my own, glanced around the kitchen. He sighed, “No, I rather expect not. Although the idea of ravishing you on top of that counter is quite alluring.”

He nodded toward a work island in the center of the room. For a moment, I could picture myself flat on my back on it, feet in the air, being plowed by Freddie’s huge uncut dick. I assumed he was uncut since most British men are not circumcised. The huge part was merely a figment of my weary imagination.

I also sighed. “Well, Old Bean, as intriguing as that scenario sounds, I am absolutely out of steam.”

“Understood. But to quote Scarlet O’Hara, tomorrow is another day.” He winked suggestively.

Shit! I’ve barely arrived, and this asshole is hitting on me without knowing if I’m straight or gay. Oh, no. I hope that’s not in the goddamn company bio!

He leaned in, gave me a light peck on the cheek, and gently turned me around. With his arm across my shoulders, he guided me back to the door of my room. Raising his glass in a goodnight salute, Freddie leaned in again to kiss me. This time, I avoided him by ducking down to pick up my suitcase from the floor.

My new roomie wasn’t bad-looking, and he was not shy about flaunting his sexual orientation, but I wasn’t ready to jump into bed with the first dude who hit on me—or the second or tenth! I was in a new place, and I had decided to do my best to be a new person.

********

It was well past noon when I woke and got dressed. I didn’t hear any sounds from my housemates, and I wondered if they were trying to let me sleep, zonked out themselves, or were naturally respectful of the quiet of the house. Maybe they weren’t home at this hour on a Saturday afternoon. I hoped newbies at Worldwide Aero weren’t expected to work weekends!

Half-awake, I stumbled up the hallway to the kitchen. Perched on stools at the infamous island where Freddie fantasized about fucking me, I saw a man and a woman.

The man was Chinese, and I remembered his name was Daniel Chou. Being only a little more than five feet tall, with black hair and eyes, fair skin, and a body that was clearly toned by some kind of exercise—perhaps some martial art—he immediately made me think of David. I banished the thought and nodded to him with a smile, then turned my attention to the woman, who got off her stool and took a welcoming step toward me.

When she stood, I was stunned by her height. She was imposing at six feet, with long red hair, hazel eyes, freckles, and a pale complexion. “Could she possibly be more Irish?” I wondered to myself, holding out a hand. “Hi. I’m Bruce Hutton,” I gave her my friendliest smile.

She shook my hand firmly and introduced herself in a pleasant Irish accent. “Alison Connor. And this is Daniel Chou. Welcome, roomie!”

Daniel extended a limp hand. I was not impressed.

You’re going to have to learn American culture fast if you want to have friends around here, asshole. But, then again, maybe you don’t give a shit about that, do you, Mister MIT Ph.D.?

Pulling up a stool, I reached for the coffee pot and a ceramic mug in the center of the island. As I poured myself a cup, an awkward silence descended on the three of us. It seemed to me that we were checking each other out, wondering who was our competition and whether we needed to be on our guard.

Alison broke the ice, speaking with her musical Irish lilt. “I think it’s a super idea that Worldwide doesn’t put people who do the same job together in an apartment like this.”

Noting my relief, she added, “I’m in computer guidance systems, Daniel designs rocket engines, and Freddie, whom I believe you’ve met, is in finance.” She took a sip of her coffee. “If we were all in the same department, living together in such close quarters might become a bit competitive, not to say uncomfortable.”

I nodded my understanding. “I’m glad to hear that. And yes, I did run into Freddie last night. I hope I didn’t make too much noise coming in so late.”

“Why were you so late?” Daniel demanded brusquely.

Yes, you definitely need to learn some goddamn American cultural niceties, Doctor Fucking Chou.

Ignoring his tone I responded, “I left Palo Alto at eleven in the morning and kept going all day. I considered stopping about halfway for the night, but the scenery and rhythm of driving lulled my mind into neutral and the next thing I knew, I was here, and it was three o’clock in the morning.”

“Your dedication to duty will surely not be overlooked by your supervisor,” Alison stated drily.

“Well, it’s not typical of me, so I doubt it will come up.”

With the ice broken, we gradually warmed to one another, telling our stories and laughing together over funny anecdotes.

After a while, Daniel downed the last of his coffee and put his mug in the dishwasher. Looking at me like I was a clueless child, he needlessly instructed, “We all do our part to keep this place clean. I hope you can handle that.”

Annoyed, I retorted, “I lived on my own in a luxury apartment for six years, so I know exactly how to keep everything comme il faut.”

“Come...what?” Daniel asked, clearly confused.

“It’s French. It means as it should be.” Alison supplied and looked at me with an amused grin that hinted, “score one for you, Bruce.” Daniel frowned at me without a word. He got up, entered his room, and emerged less than a minute later carrying his jacket and a briefcase. With a curt nod, he left us in silence.

I chuckled. “Is he always so warm and outgoing?”

Alison tittered. “He’s one of those inscrutable Chinese. I’ve been living here for four months, and that’s the most I’ve heard the arsehole say the whole time.”

“Well, I think he’s going to have an uphill battle if he hopes to be successful here,” I predicted.

She chuckled again. “You clearly don’t know rocket scientists. Chou doesn’t have to be nice to anybody even if knew how. His fucking head is in the clouds—or up his arse—and he’s surrounded by co-workers who behave exactly the same. He won’t change, but he’s been here five months, so he’ll be moving soon. We can look forward to that.”

Alison was strikingly beautiful, in her tall, Irish way. Her conversation was interesting, funny, and liberally sprinkled with humor and profanity. We finished our coffee but remained at the kitchen island, talking for quite some time.

Glancing over my shoulder, she exclaimed, “Damn, it’s getting late!” I turned toward where she was looking, and the digital clock on the oven showed 5:30 PM.

Turning back to her, I smiled. “I’m new here. Would you mind terribly if I asked you to show me around a little?”

Alison flashed her pearly-white smile, tossed her red hair, and leaned in conspiratorially. “You wouldn’t be asking me out to dinner, would you now, darlin’?”

Surprising myself, I leaned toward her and winked, using my best Clark Gable imitation, “Well, my dear, that remains to be seen, but we both need to eat—”

“And are you a dirt-poor student just out of college with a shitload of debt?” She smiled knowingly.

“Alas, fair lady. I am but a lonely rich kid who has never had a real friend. I yearn for human company and consolation of my wounded spirit.” I had no idea what I was up to, or where this kind of talk was going, but it was fun, especially with her Irish brogue.

She laughed. “In that case, I suppose I could show you a couple of places to enjoy a spot of food and a libation or two.” She leaned in and pinched my chin with two fingers. “But a lady needs a wee bit of time to set everything into the proper array.”

She rose and went down the hall to her room. I called after her, “How should I dress? Is this place expensive? Formal?”

“Well, it hasn’t a dirt floor, if that’s what you’re suggesting.” Her lilting voice came through the closed door. “But it’s not up-scale. You’re fine in what you’ve on now.” I checked myself out: chinos, a button-down shirt, and Air Jordan sneakers. I guessed I would fit in anywhere we went, but what the hell was I doing going out on a “date” with this woman? My life was suddenly taking interesting turns in this new environment. Other than whatever was in that bio, no one knew me here, so I could craft whatever persona I liked. I needed to be thoughtful, though, and take it slowly.

Much to my relief, Alison took me to a neighborhood bar and grill called The Gaiety Bar and Grill, where she introduced me to a bunch of my co-workers from Worldwide Aero. To my relief, rather than a date, the evening turned out to be a party with new-found friends.

Greg Hartman was an aerodynamic tester who spent most of his time working in a wind tunnel. Chuck Holmes was a supervisor on a production line that made jet plane components. Kit Grayson was a test pilot who jockeyed simulators to put space capsules through their paces. I was sure Greg and Chuck were a couple, but Kit was more of a mystery. He oozed charm and seemed interested in me but never said or did anything to confirm the impression.

At some point during the evening, I lost track of Alison. I wondered if she brought me here to introduce me to three prospective sex partners. As the beer and cocktails flowed, the four of us guys leaned in closer, guffawed at dirty jokes, and tuned out the room full of other people.

I could hold my liquor pretty well, but I was beginning to get plastered. I got up, shaky, to find the men’s room. Laughing, Kit took me by the elbow saying, “I gotta go, too, big guy, so I’ll show you the way.” As Kit led me away, I noticed Greg and Chuck smirking at each other.

As we made our way to the restroom, for some reason Kit tugged my elbow in odd directions, causing me to stagger. “What the fuck you tryin’ to do to me—knock me on my goddamn ass?” I grumbled.

With a half-drunk guffaw, Kit guided me over to a long metal gutter with a plastic tube constantly dripping water into it. I never saw a urinal like this before, and I mumbled to Kit, “Are you supposed to piss in that? It looks like a fucking cattle trough!”

“As you can tell, the proprietors of this elite establishment have spared no expense in the accommodations!” We shared a hearty laugh.

Kit swaggered up to the big metal box, spread his legs shoulder-wide, and unbuckled his belt. He unzipped his jeans and slid them down a couple of inches, pulling out a massive uncut cock. The top of his ass crack became visible when he lowered his pants. Looking straight ahead, he shot a powerful stream of urine into the steel pisser.

I sobered up in a split second. I couldn’t take my eyes off Kit’s cock and ass, but I somehow managed to step forward, unzip my pants and pull my dick out. As I pissed, I fought to also keep my gaze straight ahead, but the sound of the deluge issuing out of Kit’s prick was irresistible. I peeked a few times, and I don’t think he noticed—or if he did, he didn’t mind.

He finished first, giving his cock a violent up-and-down shake and stretching the foreskin a couple of times before tucking it back inside his jeans and zipping them up.

He turned in my direction to leave and took a quick glance down at my dick, exposed in my hand. I stared at him, wondering what the fuck was going on, and he gave an approving smile and a nod. When I had done my business, I zipped up and followed him over to the sinks.

Returning to the table where Greg and Chuck were seated, Kit announced, “Next round’s on me,” and headed over to the bar. As I sat down, Greg leaned in close and whispered, “So now you’ve been introduced to Little Kit.” I was stunned, and I’m sure my face showed it.

“Did he wave it at you after he pissed?” Chuck teased.

Embarrassed and blushing, I mumbled, “I guess so. Uh, it wasn’t like that—”

“Bullshit.” Greg declared. “He’s the biggest prick-tease in the whole world. He’s proud of his cock and loves to flaunt it around guys like us.”

“Guys like us?” I repeated, trying to be nonchalant.

“Hell, yes,” Chuck answered with gusto. “You know—guys who appreciate a well-hung dude and don’t mind sneaking-a-peek-while-he-takes-a-leak! ” He and Greg laughed their asses off.

I couldn’t think what to say, and face turned even redder. At last, Greg took pity on me. “Listen, Bruce, it’s clear to us you’re into guys.”

“Which is fine with us ‘cause we are, too!” Chuck chimed in. They both laughed again.

“So Mr. Big, I mean Kip, likes to get you all hot and bothered making you think he might give you a taste of what he’s packing.”

“But it’s all bullshit!” Chuck added. “He’s straight as a fucking arrow and only dips his control stick into pussy, if you know what I mean.”

I nodded, humiliated at having fallen for such a low-down trick. Kit returned with four beers and Greg and Chuck changed the subject. After another hour of downing brews, Kit got up again to hit the head.

As the dude with the big cock all but staggered in the general direction of the men’s room, Greg leaned in again. “Aren’t you gonna follow him and take another peek at what you can’t have?” He and Chuck giggled.

“No, I don’t think so. One glimpse of tonight’s floor show was plenty for me.” I joined in the laughter, realizing they were having fun hazing the new guy.

Inclining toward me with a sly grin on his face, Greg teased, “Now, Chuck here would be glad to give you a long, slow look at his wienie—and let you do whatever you want with it.”

“Please!” Chuck protested. “And Greg here would love to watch you do it—if he could keep his fucking mouth and hands off it!”

They almost fell on the floor laughing. They were both drunk, but I doubted that what they were saying was bullshit. Their behavior confirmed the gay vibes I picked up from them all night.

Kit returned while the three of us were hooting with laughter. “What’s up?” he inquired.

“Nothing but the usual bull,” Greg replied, and Kit nodded, pretending he understood.

Alison reappeared from somewhere and squeezed into the booth next to me. “Are you lads having fun?”

“Oh, shitloads,” I laughed.

She turned to me. “Well, I hate to break up this testosterone fest, but I’m your designated driver, and I’m ready to beat it back to the flat.”

Greg and Chuck roared with laughter. “And Bruce is ready to beat it back at the flat!”

I blushed, but Alison jumped right in, “As if the two of you aren’t eager to do the same thing, only together!”

This time, Kit laughed. “You nailed it, babe!”

He tried to high-five Alison, but she glared at him. “Who’re you calling babe, arsehole?”

Like a kid caught using a dirty word in front of his mother, he hung his head in contrition and mumbled, “Sorry.”

She addressed me, “Let’s go, Bruce, your comrades are wasted and it’s clear they don’t have any control over their mouths. It’s time to show this joint our backsides.”

Like an obedient puppy, I followed Alison out to her car. Neither of us said much on the drive back to the apartment. Upon entering, Alison stood still and listened to the silence.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. I’m checking to see who else is home.”

“You can tell, just by listening?”

“Actually, it’s not hard. Freddie is never home this early on a weekend. In fact, he might not make it back at all until tomorrow afternoon. And Daniel has a love interest who bestows her favors on him once a week, like clockwork.”

“He has a girlfriend?”

“In a sense. He can’t get serious about her because his parents have already decided who he’s going to marry.”

“Ow. That must suck.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Certainty can be a comforting thing.”

We stood in silence. Alison turned toward me and smiled with a strange look on her face. “So it’s you and me. Here all alone. Just the two of us.”

The blank expression on my face seemed to be what she was hoping for. With another smile, she took my hand and led me down the hall.

Opening the door to her room, she purred, “Come through,” and tugged me inside. I stumbled across the threshold.

Closing the door behind me, Alison put her arms around me and leaned in to kiss me. When her lips met mine, I couldn’t help pulling away.

“I, uh—” I stammered.

“Oh, you can forget that shite. I know you’re gay.”

“You do? Then why—?”

“I like gay men. In fact, I love them, or rather, I love making love with them!” She cackled hysterically, leading me to question her sanity.

“What? Why?” I could feel my face contort with confusion

“Because there’s no expectation of a future. It’s just sex, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Nothing wrong with it? Her statement confirmed my opinion that she was deranged.

Before I could respond, Alison pulled me closer and groped my crotch. “Hmm. Looks like the big boy is interested—”

Huh. I guess drunk dicks aren’t picky. I giggled at the thought.

“Well, do you want to see where this goes?” She flashed a coy smile, mistaking my amusement for curiosity or perhaps consent.

“I...uh...I’m sorry, Allison. I’m not into this—which is to say, the ‘big boy’ doesn’t speak for me. I’ve never done it with a woman, and I don’t intend to start tonight.”

Flustered, I gave her what I hope was a respectful smile and backed out of her room, ignoring the scathing daggers her eyes shot at me. As I closed the door, a voice hailed me from the kitchen.

“So, she got to you first.” Freddie stated with a flat tone.

Startled, I turned and slurred, “Alishun told me you were away for the weekend.”

“In her dreams.” He shrugged. “Actually, that’s usually the case, but my plans for this evening fizzled, which is to say the asshole stood me up. So here I am, alone and horny as hell.”

“I—” My face flushed with embarrassment.

“You don’t have to say it. I can tell the whole story by looking at you. Did you do the deed with her?”

“F–fuck, no!” My brain still had a hard time forming words. Goddamn booze.

“Good. It sounds like you dodged a bullet. I hope you’re not too shaken by the experience?”

“More like surprised as hell. Does she pull that shit with all her new roommates?

“No, only the gay ones.”

Fueled by drunken bravado, I exclaimed, “Goddammit! I have half a mind to go back in her room and tell the bitch what I think of her.”

He chuckled, “There’s a battle you’d never win, old chap. It’s her kink. She’s been doing it this way too long for you to stand a chance.”

I sighed, dejected.

“You poor innocent.” Freddie stood up, walked toward me, and took my hand. “Let’s put things back as they were meant to be.”

Still feeling the effects of the alcohol, I allowed him to lead me down the hall to my room and close the door behind us. My addled brain thought nothing of Freddie undressing me, then himself. Steering me into bed, he stretched out beside me and began to play with my cock. It immediately got hard. It felt like coming home for all of ten seconds—until alarm bells went off in my head, and I bolted out of bed.

“You need to leave, ri–right now.” I slurred the words, but he got the message.

“Oh, you poor, confused lad. We both know you want it, but for some unknown reason you’re too mixed up or too drunk to go for it.” He got out of my bed and stomped over to the door, practically slamming it shut.

Exhausted by the events of the evening, I lay alone and naked, the room spinning above me. I couldn’t say which of my new roommates I was more mad at.

What the fuck were they thinking? What the fuck was I thinking? I can’t believe I got so close to having sex with a woman, especially a total fucking bitch who liked to mess with gay men’s heads. As for Freddy, I have no interest at all in him, either for sex or even as a friend, for that matter, considering how he tried to take advantage of me when I was almost too drunk to resist.

After a moment, I got up, lurched across the room, and locked the door. I had to get the hell out of that goddamn nuthouse—the sooner, the better!”

********

I woke up around noon with the mother of all hangovers and staggered out to the kitchen. No one else was home. I found some orange juice in the fridge and chugged it right out of the bottle. It made me nauseous and didn’t do anything for my headache. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I abandoned all thoughts of food and stumbled to the living room. Leather creaked as I flopped onto one of the couches, the movement making my head spin.

The previous night was a blur, but sitting still, I felt less dizzy. The evening’s events came back to me, and the more clearly I remembered, the more I regretted. There was Kit, who flashed his giant cock to tease me. Chuck and Greg made it clear they wouldn’t mind hooking up with me.

I groaned as I pictured Alison propositioning me, followed by Freddie getting me in bed naked and going for my cock. What a fucked-up night! How did I let myself get so goddamn drunk? What does this mean about my future here?

I leaned back and shouted at the top of my voice, “God-fucking-dammit!” What a hell of a way to start a new job, new home, and new day. I got to my feet and stepped outside, hoping some fresh air would clear my mind.

By contrast with my dark mood, it was a beautiful day, something I’d been told was rare in the Pacific Northwest. The cloudless sky was a brilliant blue, the temperature was in the 70s, and a breeze warmed my skin. I had sobered up, but I still felt like shit on the inside.

I got my jacket and car keys, went out, and drove aimlessly. I wanted to be as far away as possible from the horrifying reality I had landed in. I headed north on the 405. Renton was southwest of Seattle proper, near the SeaTac airport. Somewhere along the shore of Lake Washington, I pulled into a stop-over.

I admired the expensive homes on Mercer Island across the water. The scenery was magnificent. Turning my back to the lake, I beheld the Cascade Mountains miles to the east, their lofty crests still white with snow in late June.

I began to evaluate my situation. I was in one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. I was about to start my first real job since college and grad school—a career I hoped would challenge my skills and also pay me well.

So, what the fuck did I do on my first night here? I let a new roommate, someone I have only just met, take me out to a gay bar. I let a horse’s ass with a big dick fuck with my head. I met two gay guys who made it clear they were up for anything.

I stopped to choke back some tears as the shame of almost allowing myself to be seduced by a woman hit me. More disgust rolled through me at the memory of almost having sex with another roommate, despite the fact that I could tell he was a predatory gay man. Why? I guess to prove to myself that I was still gay!

What a fucked-up life! What a shitty fucking place! What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

I wanted to cry, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to do it out here in public. I got back in the car and resumed driving around randomly with no idea where I was or where I was heading.

I found myself coming full circle as I recognized the parking lot of The Gaiety Bar and Grill—the same place where it all began last night.

It was only three o’clock in the afternoon, but a handful of cars were parked in the lot. As I shut off my engine and sat bewildered, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, a car pulled into the space to my right. I glanced over and almost choked. Shit! It was Greg and Chuck.

I slunk down in the seat, hoping they wouldn’t notice me, but they had already recognized me. They jumped out of their car and hurried around to the driver’s side of the convertible. I was glad the top was up because it created a barrier that gave me an illusion of safety.

They stood outside my car door, smiling like we were all old friends. When I didn’t respond to their gestures and smiles, a look of concern passed between them. Seeing that they wouldn’t go away without speaking with me, I lowered the window and did my best to appear casual, but inside I was seething with anger and resentment.

“Hey, Bruce! How ya doing, buddy? That was quite a night, eh?” Greg was effusive, but I glared at him with suspicion, although I couldn’t prove they had anything to do with the shit that happened at the apartment last night.

“OK, I guess.” I struggled to keep my tone flat.

Chuck tried, “You got home all right with Alison?”

“Oh, yeah, we got home.” My voice was now dripping with sarcasm.

Chuck leaned down and rested his elbows on the window sill. Greg crowded in, too.

“What happened? Is something the matter?” Chuck asked, a worried crease wrinkling his brow.

Greg added, “You don’t look too happy today. What’s up?”

“I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind,” I began, looking away from them so they wouldn’t notice the tear forming in my eye.

Greg detected the tremor in my voice. “Bruce, are you OK? Did something happen last night after you left?”

Turning on him with unbridled fury, I snarled, “You know goddamn well what happened—and you were both part of it.”

The looks of shock and concern on their faces made me think I might have it all wrong.

“Part of it? Part of what? What the fuck are you talking about?” Greg demanded, taken aback by my ferocious accusation.

“I’d rather not discuss it. Besides, I’m willing to bet you already know.”

With a sincere voice, Chuck leaned in closer. “Bruce, whatever the hell happened to you last night, I swear we don’t know anything about it.”

I thought for a moment. Could I be mistaken? I knew that my two housemates tried to take liberties with me. Kit was a jerk, so I guess he was simply being Kit and probably wasn’t part of what happened later.

I was forced to admit that the case against these two men was circumstantial. I had concocted some kind of rationalization that they were all part of a grand plan to lure the innocent new dude into having sex with Alison and/or Freddie, but I was beginning to suspect I could be wrong.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the two guys. “Honestly, I’m not sure what the fuck to think. Something shitty was done to me last night, and it seemed like every one of you was in on it. If I’m wrong—”

Greg's face registered shock and dismay. “Bruce, we don’t know what happened to you last night, but I swear to you Chuck and I had nothing to do with it. We thought you were a great guy and were enjoying yourself. We like you, and we wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chuck inquired, trying not to pressure me.

I began, “I, uh—” but my voice choked, and my body shook. That was all it took to propel them into action.

“Bruce!” Greg exclaimed, reaching through the open window and putting a hand on my shoulder. One kind touch was all it took. I slumped forward onto the steering wheel, sobbing.

“Bruce, can we help you out of the car?” Chuck’s expression was full of concern.

“I–I don’t fucking know.”

“We’ll take that as a yes,” Greg stated, opening the car door.

I teetered on the brink of indecision. Were they a couple of shits who had helped lure me into sex that I would hate myself for, or were they two innocent bystanders who honestly cared about me and wanted to help?

My head pounded, partly from the hangover and partly from total confusion, but somehow I found the presence of mind to throw caution to the wind and trust these two solicitous gay dudes.