Coming to Love - 5. Secret Agent Man

“Trachni menya! Fuck me!” Grisha groaned in a mixture of Russian and English as I plowed his ass. “Dermo! Dermo! Shit! Shit!”

We had been lovers for two months, and in all that time, Gregor Galinsky had never asked me a single question about my work, the project, American life, or any fucking thing. I was convinced that Tall Man and Short Man were full of shit when it came to Russian spies.

My lover and I had been together dozens of times, using hotels chosen by the agents—I assumed they were recording everything somehow. The sex was always satisfying, but it had taken several weeks for me to get over the painful fact that I was waiting for Grisha to reveal his ulterior motive to me, which would have led to his arrest and imprisonment for espionage. As far as I was concerned, the only redeeming factor was that the U.S. Government reimbursed my expenses so we trysted in the best hotels and ate at the finest restaurants.

This evening, after the second round of flip fucking, we relaxed on the bed as usual. Grisha smoked a stinky Russian cigarette and I lit up a joint. To my amazement, the Tall Man also supplied me with marijuana to make sure my lover didn’t slip me something to knock me out or let him secretly interrogate me.

That was the kind of bullshit that motivated the two agents, and I was glad Grisha had never shown the slightest intention of pumping me for information.

“You are quiet tonight, Bruska. What is on your mind?”

I vacillated. I wanted to tell him what the hell was going on, to prove that I had faith in him, but to have done so would have led to my arrest and trial. “I’m tired, Grisha. The work is becoming intense, the deadlines are insane, and everyone is damn near worn out.”

“Is same with us. I hope there will be some respite soon.”

Respite, huh? Where the hell did you go to English school?

I rolled over and gazed at him with my heart doing flip-flops. Naked, he was still as beautiful and alluring as he’d been the first time we showered together after jogging. His uncut penis was six inches soft and a bit longer when hard.

I loved sliding his foreskin up and down as I blew him, using my tongue on it to tease and increase his pleasure. He had expressed interest when he saw I was circumcised, but I explained it was a common practice in the 60s when I was born.

“But isn’t it Jewish practice?” I detected a hint of racism in his tone, which didn’t surprise me, given Russia’s long history of pogroms.

“Uh, originally, I suppose, but it’s seen as a matter of hygiene these days.”

“I don’t understand. Is so easy to clean down there. What can be problem?”

I shrugged. “You got me. I don’t know much about medicine or anatomy. I just know I don’t have a foreskin, and I love playing with yours.” We laughed and he drew me into a hug, which led to another round of sex.

The next morning, I jogged alone in a park in Redmond, where I often met with one of the agents. As I rounded a bend, they were both seated on a bench waiting for me, which had never happened before. I slowed, breathing hard, and bounced up and down on my feet for a couple of minutes to come down gradually and avoid cramping.

“Good morning, guys.”

Glaring at me like I was the spy he was after, Short Man grumped, “Is it?”

“So far, it has been for me. What’s on your mind, uh, minds?”

Regret clouded Tall Man’s face. “This project has been notably unproductive.”

“Well, it wasn’t my idea, you know.”

“We know that—”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to say I need to start pumping him for information. You’ve got me trying to catch him spying for Russia, but I’m not about to snoop around in his business. That would make me as bad as you claim he is.”

Furious, Short Man sprang to his feet, took two quick steps toward me, and got in my face. “Now listen here, asshole. You’re working for us—for the U.S. Government—so you’d better do what you’re told or—or—” His head was so red I was afraid he was going to have a coronary.

“Cut it out,” Tall Man ordered. With a withering look at me, the little guy sat back down.

“Bruce, we appreciate that you are doing exactly what we asked—” he began. “But if it doesn’t produce some results soon, we have no choice but to escalate the situation and try another tack.”

“I’m not gonna—”

“Hear me out, please. I’m not asking you to manipulate him into revealing anything or snoop through his pants pockets.”

“Which might not be a bad idea,” his colleague interjected. Tall Man turned and scowled at him. “That’s enough.”

Returning to me, he tried a different approach. “At least, let’s put our heads together and see if we can think of some way to make a little progress on this—this thing.”

“Don’t you mean, ‘this mission’ or ‘this investigation?’ “

“It doesn’t matter what we call it. Finding out what’s going on is all that matters.”

“OK. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Over the next fifteen minutes, the two of them proposed various devious ways to trick Grisha into asking me about the confidential side of my job. I listened reluctantly and agreed to one last-ditch approach.

********

“I’ve run into a problem on the project, and I won’t be able to meet you for a couple of weeks,” I told Grisha on the phone. “I’ll let you know if and when things cool down enough for us to be together again.” The agents thought this might pressure him to speed up his effort to pump me for information. I thought it was ridiculous and was sure it wouldn’t work.

Disappointment filled his voice. “I understand, Bruska. The same thing happens to me from time to time. I will miss our time together.”

A pang of guilt stabbed me, but I kept on lying. “I might be able to duck out later today for an hour or so. Do you think you might slip away, say, at three o’clock?”

After a long pause, Grisha replied, “I think I can do that. Where do you want to meet?”

We arranged a rendezvous at a hotel we had used several times and hung up. My stomach was churning, knowing I was betraying a friendship that had come to mean a lot to me.

I drove to the hotel, battling my conscience all the way. I checked in and entered the room, stripped down to my skivvies, and stretched out on the bed, reluctantly waiting for my lover and almost hoping he wouldn’t show up.

Damn, I hope this doesn’t work. I just can’t fucking believe Grisha is a secret agent luring me into a Honey Trap.

A few minutes later, a soft rap came on the door. “It’s open,” I called out.

My body chilled, and I almost stopped breathing when two men came through the door. The similarity between them and my two handlers was striking, but they were strangers to me.

Panicked, I shouted, “Who the hell are you? Get the fuck out of here!”

One of them calmly reached into a coat pocket and brought out a gun, pointing it at me.

“We will give the orders here, Mister Hutton.”

I sat up in bed and pulled the blanket over my lower body. “Where is—”

“Grisha Galinsky? Is that who you were expecting?” the one without the gun sneered.

“I—”

“No need to lie, Bruska. We know all about the two of you. That’s why we are here—to make a little deal with you about your friend.”

“What? Grisha? Where is he? Why isn’t he here?”

“So many questions. You should be asking why we don’t just shoot you and leave or why we don’t shoot Galinsky and take him out of the picture.”

“No!”

“I’m glad we have your full attention, Bruce. Now we can get down to business.” He came over and sat on the side of the bed. I pulled away. The one with the gun stood at the door and kept it pointed at me.

“We are aware what Grisha has been doing. He is such a fool. We also know you have been waiting for an opportunity to trick him into revealing state secrets of the Russian Federation. We intercepted your telephone conversation with him today, so we knew about this rendezvous. Sadly for you, Engineer Galinsky was called into at a top-level meeting of his department, so he won’t be joining you for...whatever disgusting thing you two do.”

The irony of his accusation made me laugh. “I have seen on TV that the Russian Federation, as you call it, is in turmoil now, with President Yeltsin fighting against parliamentarians for control. I seriously doubt Grisha can shed any light on those ‘state secrets.’ “

The man spat on the floor. “You are such a fool. Of course, Galinsky is not involved in any of that bullshit. But he is an expert on rocket propulsion, and your government plans to take advantage of the crisis to invade Mother Russia and use our own technology to try to defeat us.”

His voice dripping with venom, the man at the door interjected, “You will never succeed.”

“This is incredible,” I said, shaking my head. “You are living in a fantasy land. I don’t give a shit what happens in your government. I am working on a joint project between our two countries, hoping that, at least in outer space, we can live together in harmony and cooperation.”

“Liar!” the man on the bed lunged at me. I jumped out the other side of the bed as the door to the room burst open, knocking the gunman to the floor. The gun went off. The man on my bed doubled over and fell off the bed.

Tall Man and Short Man dashed into the room, followed by three armed men who made short work of disarming and handcuffing the gunman. The man on the floor moaned, and one of the armed agents bent down to examine him.

“He’s not hit bad, but he’ll need medical attention as soon as we’re out of here.”

The next couple of minutes were a blur of activity. The two Russians were hustled out of the room, and Short Man and the other American agents went with them.

Tall Man remained behind with me. He gazed around the room, then at me. “Damn! This place is a goddamn mess.”

“No shit.”

“What about you, Bruce? Are you OK?”

“Well, I’m not fucking dead if that’s what you mean.”

“I can’t begin to tell you how glad I am of that.”

“Why don’t you try?”

With a weary smile, he repeated, “Maybe you’d like to get dressed? We’ve gotta be out of this room in ten minutes, so the cleanup team can work their magic. There will be no sign we’ve been here.”

“The room is in my name.”

“Not anymore. In fact, it was never rented at all.”

I sighed in disgust. “You fuckers are amazing.”

“We think so.”

“So why the hell did I almost get killed?”

“To draw them out.”

Like a light coming on, it dawned on me what he was saying. “You mean—? They’re the ones you were after all along?”

“Something like that. We needed to lure them out into the open in order to nab them. And it worked.”

“So you used me—and you fucking used Grisha—to set up this whole goddamn scenario!”

He shrugged. “We do what we have to—to protect our country, of course.”

“And damn anyone who gets killed in the process—collateral damage I think you call it?”

“You were not meant to be in any danger.”

“It kinda didn’t work, did it?”

“They surprised us in a several ways, but we were right behind them at every step.”

Disgust and frustration seethed within me. My voice dripped with contempt. “A minute or two later, and where would I have been? On a plane to Russia? A ship out at sea where I would be tortured and my body thrown overboard? Shot dead here in this fucking bed?”

Tall Man’s anger matched mine. “You have an overactive imagination. Things don’t happen that way in the real world. Counter-espionage is a dull and boring game, with only an occasional moment or two of excitement.”

“So I guess I stumbled into one of those goddamn moments.”

“Again, something along those lines.” He checked his watch impatiently. “Come on. We don’t have much time. We’ll move you to a safe house until the situation cools down.”

“And what about Grisha?”

“As far as we can tell, he was an innocent pawn in their game.”

“So, who or what was their real target?”

His piercing glare made me shiver. “You were.”

********

True to his word, Tall Man spirited me out of the motel into a black van with no windows. I was taken on a long ride away from Seattle to a farmhouse in the foothills of the mountains. I was “debriefed,” which was a dumbass idea that meant asking me a shitload of questions they already knew the answers to, over and over. In truth, I knew almost nothing, other than they were suspicious of Grisha, which also turned out to be a lie.

Five days later, they politely dropped me off in front of the condo and sped away. I opened the door cautiously, half expecting a bomb to go off or some shit like that.

Greg was watching TV. He looked up and grinned, “Well, how was the business trip? Are you allowed to say where they sent you?”

“Huh?” was all I was able to manage.

“Your office called on Monday and said someone would come around to pack a suitcase for you. Something about a problem with the project you’re working on, and you had to be away for a few days. I realize it’s all hush-hush, but I hope it all worked out OK.”

“Me, too,” Chuck came in from the kitchen. “You haven’t lived here for long, but we missed you. Glad you’re back.”

So that’s how it goes. The fucking government uses me in their plot to catch Russian agents, convinces me my lover is a spy, hides me out until they’re sure the bad guys aren’t coming after me, and makes the whole goddamn thing into a “business trip.” Shit!

“It’s good to be back,” was all I could muster. The situation was too surreal for any further explanation, and Tall Man threatened me with a trial for treason if I ever breathed a word of what really happened.

I was back at my desk the next morning. My supervisor stopped by and said, “Welcome back.” He didn’t mention my absence, the lack of a real business trip, or why he gave up his office to those two secret agent assholes so they could lie to me and convince me to risk my ass—and Grisha’s—for their underhanded purposes.

After work that evening, I picked up the phone. My hand shook as I dialed my lover’s number.

“Da?”

“Grisha. Eta Bruska.”

“Bruce? Is it really you?” His voice quavered and choked. “I’m so glad to hear you. I was worried.”

Tears were flowing from my eyes. “Me, too.” I swallowed hard. “Do you know what happened?”

“Not everything. A week ago, I was summoned to the Party commissar here in my hotel and asked a ton of questions about you and what you and I were doing.”

“What did you tell them?”

He paused long enough for me to catch on that the call was being monitored and recorded—most likely by both Russian and American agents! “Only the truth, of course. That we work together on the Space Station project and have become friends. What else would I say?”

I smiled. “There’s nothing else to say. I hope they were happy knowing the cooperation between our two great countries is working out so smoothly.”

“Indeed it is.”

“So, now that I’m back from my business trip, would you like to join me for a run tomorrow morning?”

“Da. It appears your famous rainy weather has taken short break, so it should be perfect day for jogging. Where do you want to meet?”

We got met in the park the next morning, had our run, and showered at Spa Odessa, the Russian bath house. Both of us went to work as usual and met for dinner and drinks at Vkusny. We said goodnight and got into our cars, heading in opposite directions.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the condo’s door. I jumped up to answer it, and Gregor Galinsky came in. I greeted him with a kiss as my roommates stared wide-eyed.

“Greg, Chuck, this is a friend of mine, Grisha.”

Their faces cracked open with friendly smiles as they shook his hand and welcomed him.

“Uh, we’ll be in my room for a while, guys.”

Glowing with happiness, Chuck told us. “Take as long as you need. We’ll be super-quiet for you.” Greg smiled.

I led Grisha back to my room and closed the door. We rushed into each other’s arms and kissed passionately.

With a giant Russian bear hug, Grisha laughed, “I have missed you so much, lyoubof moya.”

“I love you, too. I wish I could tell you where I’ve been, but—”

“I understand. We both have our secrets. Perhaps someday in the future, we can sit down and share our stories over a bottle of vodka.”

“I have a little surprise for you.” I guided him over to my bed. As he sat down, I opened a bureau drawer and pulled out a small bottle of Stolichnaya and two vodka glasses.

I poured them and toasted, “Za Zdoroviye!” He repeated the toast, clinking his glass against mine.

Ten minutes and two drinks later, we were naked, sucking each other’s cocks for all we were worth. The brief interruption in our affair had left us both hungry for the other.

We took turns topping and I lost count of how many times I came. This man’s body was so matched to mine that it seemed like we had always been lovers.

********

Grisha always smoked after sex, but I respected my roommates’ rule against smoking in the house, so we put on bathrobes and stepped outside onto the patio. We sat on a bench down near the shoreline.

The sky was bursting with twinkling stars, and a warm breeze wafted in from Lake Washington. With a contented breath, I rested an arm across his shoulders and gave him an affectionate shake.

“I am still trying to grasp all that happened to me. It’s so good to be back here with you.”

Grisha shook his head with a mournful expression after exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Bruska, this is bittersweet moment for me.”

I laughed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how long you intend to keep using that phony Russian accent on me.”

He roared with merriment, then he grinned sheepishly. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.” His pronunciation was perfect British.

“Oxford or Cambridge?” I asked with a grin.

“Actually, both.” His cheerful voice turned somber, “But I mean it, there is something difficult I must tell you.”

My mood darkened and I removed my arm from around him.

Facing me, he lightly grasped one of my hands. “First, I know all about the men who tried to kill you. They hoped to force you to reveal information that would get me arrested.”

“What the fuck?”

“It’s true. You have heard about the conflict in Russia between President Yeltsin and the Supreme Soviet?”

“The Parliament. Yes.”

“It’s now over, thank God. Yeltsin has won and there is a new constitution. And—”

“Why am I expecting bad news?”

He put a hand on my shoulder. “Because it means I have to return to Moscow. I was elected to the State Duma and appointed Director of Roscosmos, our space agency like your NASA.” He paused to let it sink in.

I almost choked on my words. “When do you have to leave?”

“In three days, but I will be so busy we won’t have time to meet—or do anything again.”

Tears flooded my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have tried to make our last time together extra special.”

“For precisely that reason. I love the way you make love to me, and I didn’t want us to change a single thing. I want to remember just how we were together.”

We returned to my room and removed our bathrobes. Lying in bed, we caressed each other trying to cement the feelings to memory. Sadness tainted our kisses and tears were unwillingly shed.

At one point, the irony made me giggle through my tears. “I now understand Russian literature! The endings are always so mournfully sad.”

Grisha chuckled, “I told you we Russians are emotional people.”

“You did, but now I think I’m giving you a run for your money.”

He pulled me close. “I will never forget you, Bruce Hutton, and please remember me.”

“You know I will, Grisha. Now, tell me once again that you love me.”

“Ya tyebla lyoublyou.”

“And I love you, too, you wonderful man.”

********

Over the years since then, I followed the career of Gregor Mikhailovich Galinsky. He soared in his work guiding the Russian space program. Under his leadership, I never picked up any hint of competition or animosity as our two countries jointly developed the International Space Station. When the U.S. Shuttle program ended, Russia ferried our astronauts and their cosmonauts back and forth on Soyuz rockets and capsules. Grisha retired in 2001 and died a couple of years later. In his obituary, a wife, two children, and six grandchildren were mentioned, but I never once doubted that he held me in his heart.

Was what Grisha and I had properly called an affair? He didn’t tell me he was married, and it never occurred to me to ask. Would I have done what we did if I had known? I’m not sure, but quite possibly. In one sense, he was cheating on his wife, and I was having sex with a handsome man.

I will always remember that something intense happened to us, perhaps driven by the intensity of our work on the Space Station. I admit the sex was plain vanilla, but the man I was doing it with was so strong and beautiful that it made our coupling perfect. The excitement of hiding and having a secret lover added to the thrill of loving him. I’ll never forget my Grisha.

********

After breakfast one Saturday morning six months later, Greg and Chuck left for a day of hiking in the mountains, and I settled down to take it easy and enjoy a little me-time.

My phone rang.

“Shit. Not another problem on the project.” I hated being called back to work on my much-needed weekends.

I recognized the voice at once. “Bruce? It’s Luís.”

“Hey, man. How’s it hangin?” I was faking a calm response, but my guts were churning.

“Uh, it’s about Carl—”

“Fuck. What now?”

“No, it’s good news, kind of. He’s dead. A fellow prisoner killed him in his cell.”

My whole body trembled with emotion as a tsunami of relief flooded over me. Tears filled my eyes, and my head spun as I sank into a chair. I took a deep breath and croaked out a few words. “So he finally got...what he wanted to do to me.”

Guzmán chuckled at the irony. “Well, that, plus a little more.” He left my unspoken question hanging in the air for a moment, then explained, “His cellmate—and lover—knifed him. They’d had a spat, and Carl said he wanted to move to a different cell.”

Despite my shock and relief, I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Lover? Are you shitting me?”

The detective guffawed. “What’s the thing where you always get what you deserve, no matter how long it takes?”

“You mean karma?”

“That’s it. The motherfucker pissed off a dude who was even meaner than him. And you want to hear the best part—or the worst, depending on how strong your stomach is?”

“I can’t begin to guess.”

“The sonofabitch cut off Carl’s cock and balls, too, just for spite.”

“Whoa! Just goes to show you should never piss off your prison husband.”

“No shit.” He chuckled again. “Well, that’s all I had to say. You doin’ all right?”

We talked for five minutes or so, and I brought him up to date on the goings-on in my life and career. Under orders from the government agents, I had to leave out any mention of Grisha, but we still had plenty to talk about.

“You and Paul need to take a vacation and haul your sorry asses up here. The weather sucks ninety percent of the time, but the rare sunny day is to die for.”

“I’ll check with Paul, and we’ll see what we can arrange.”

“Oh! By the way—” I teased.

“Yeah?”

“I’m up for a repeat of our little three-way the day I left.” Luís laughed uproariously.

We said goodbye and I set down the phone.

Well, goddamn. Luís may be right—karma ultimately catches up with just about everyone.

I hadn’t given Carl much thought since I arrived in Renton, but when he did pop into my consciousness, it always gave me a chill. Even the remote possibility that he might still show up made me nauseous.

I needed to clear my head so I changed into my jogging clothes. Physical exercise would help me to stop overthinking.

Because of my near-daily runs, I knew the surrounding environs for at least five miles in every direction. But today I decided to walk. Running past something, versus taking time to see it are two entirely different experiences.

I strolled out of the condo complex and toward the lake, where I watched sailboats and kite-boarders enjoying the onshore breezes. At the water’s edge, I sat on an empty bench and chilled—unwinding and doing nothing at all. I had almost fallen asleep when a deep male voice with a Southern accent jolted me to consciousness.

“This seat taken?”

I opened my eyes with a start and took a second to focus. Standing at the other end of the park bench was a man in his late forties or early fifties, five-ten, one eighty, with dark brown hair and a bushy mustache. He wore an athletic shirt and running shorts that did little to conceal his sizable cock and low-hanging balls. I was speechless and couldn’t take my eyes off his ample endowment.

“Um, so, is it OK if I sit here?” the guy repeated, amused by my transfixion on his package.

Tearing my lusting eyes away, I stuttered, “Oh. Uh. Yes. Of course. Sit right down. Make yourself comfortable.”

He smiled and winked as he settled in next to me. “The only way I’d be more comfortable is to take off these shorts and let it all hang out.”

“And I bet that would be something to see.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

It’s obvious we’re flirting, but will it go anywhere, and do I want it to?

He extended a hand. “I’m Ted Gorman.” His firm grip lingered, sending a thrill up my arm.

Rendered speechless by his touch, I tried to recover some semblance of self-control. “Bruce Hutton. You live around here?”

He chuckled at my awkward question. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

“Oh, I have plenty of things in mind. But I’d rather have them in other parts of my body.”

“Is that so? Well, as a matter of fact, we’re sitting in front of my apartment.”

Stunned, I turned and glanced behind me. I faced him with a delighted smile. “How convenient.”

He nodded once. “Would you care to see it? It comes with a spectacular view.”

Brazenly, I leaned in close and teased, “Well, if the view inside is half as amazing as the one out here, I’m fucking dying to see it.”

The formalities dispensed with, we stood up, and Ted escorted me into the building and up to the third floor. Unlocking the door, he held it open, allowing me to enter first.

As soon as the door was closed, I spun around and pulled him into a deep kiss. His mustache met mine, and I couldn’t restrain my hunger for him. I groped his cock and balls through the thin fabric that restrained them, feeling him harden to my touch. He hugged me with both arms, ran his hands down my back, and squeezed my ass cheeks.

We broke the kiss, stepped apart, and began pulling our clothes off. It took him longer to untie his shoes than for me to step out of my sandals, so I waited naked, savoring the grace and beauty of his masculine body.

When he stood up, Ted’s erection pointed straight at me, and I couldn’t resist dropping to my knees and wrapping my lips around it. He let out a deep sigh and groaned with pleasure as I kissed and sucked it. With his cock in my mouth, I peered up at him. He had thrown his head back and was smiling.

I lavished my best cock-sucking skills on his seven or eight inches. His penis was long, but not thick, and I was already imagining how it would feel inside me.

He rested a hand on the back of my head and began sliding his shaft in and out of my mouth. My nose disappeared into his pubic hairs, which were as bristly as his mustache, and I thought he must have some Italian in his heritage. I would never have said it out loud, but I decided to secretly call him my “Italian Stallion!”

Ted pulled his cock out of my mouth and helped me to my feet. He turned me around and bent me forward. He got on his knees and buried his face in my ass crack, ramming his tongue as deep inside me as he could reach. I moaned with pleasure.

He was an expert with that tongue. I felt it exploring every bit of my bung—up, down, and deep inside it went. Unable to stand the waiting, I straightened and turned to him.

“Fuck me. Please. Fuck me, Ted!”

With a hungry smile, he took my hand and led me down the short hallway to his bedroom. I knelt on the side of the bed, arching my back and presenting my ass for his usage.

“Fuck me!”

Ted smiled as he reached over to a small drawer in the nightstand. Taking out a condom and lube, he was ready in seconds. He stepped up and positioned himself between my knees. My body thrilled with delight as his cock slid through the tight muscle rings and filled me up. It felt so right to have a man inside me again, and I moaned with pleasure.

We fucked in that position until Ted guided me to lie on my back with my feet in the air. He held one foot in each hand to steady himself and banged my ass with determination.

“Jack yourself off.” He said between breaths, and I reached down and pumped my hard cock.

It didn’t take long for me to come. As my sphincter pulsed around his dick, his body trembled, and he thrust deep inside me, filling the rubber with his sperm.

After Ted came, he didn’t move for a little while with his softening cock still in me. Then he removed the condom and fell into bed, cuddling and kissing me.

Savoring the afterglow, we relaxed in silence, staring up at the ceiling.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he offered.

“Oh, they’re not worth that much,” I parried.

“Come on, tell me something.”

“OK.” I thought for a moment. “I moved here almost a year ago from Palo Alto and got a job in the aerospace industry. I’m sharing an apartment with two friends, and I spend my spare time hoping to meet interesting men—like you!”

“Sounds promising. And fun. How often do you get lucky?”

“Not too often, at least not as lucky as this. What about you? What's your story?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you.” I couldn’t tell if he were serious or teasing me.

“Uh-oh. Now you have to!”

“OK. But don’t freak out on me.” He rose up on one elbow to face me, and I made a cross-my-heart motion with one hand.

He took a deep breath and said, “I’m a cop, a Seattle police officer—a captain, to be exact.”

Startled, my body reacted with a shudder. Every memory of Winston flooded back like a dam bursting.

Fearing he had upset me, Ted hurried to add, “But I’m gay, like you, and I don’t go around fucking people and then arresting them or anything like that.”

I turned my head and gazed up at the ceiling again. Was I ready for another policeman? Would I fall in love with Ted and lose him, like I lost Winston?

“Come on, Bruce, what’s wrong?” he asked with sincere concern in his voice.

I rose on my elbow and faced him. I leaned in and kissed him, then ran one hand down his body, from his shoulder to his ass. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He looked unconvinced, so I continued, “Honest. It’s just that you’re the second policeman I have, well—”

“Been fucked by?” he volunteered.

“Well, that, of course.” I looked into his eyes and let it all spill out. “I was in love with a detective in Palo Alto. We had it all—” My voice cracked, “and then he got killed. Drug dealers murdered him.” A teardrop trickled down the side of my nose.

He drew me toward him, kissed away the tear, and held me tight. He felt me shiver and pulled the sheet over both of us. I whispered into his chest. “It’s not your fault, Ted, but I don’t see how I can become involved with another cop. It hurts too much when things go wrong.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Well, if you think about it, any time someone we love dies, it hurts.” He paused. “If it’s any help, I’m an administrator—a desk job. I fire my weapon once a year when I have to qualify to carry it, but I have been off the streets for ten years now. I’m more likely to be killed by some asshole driving drunk on the wrong side of the 450 than getting shot on the job.”

I relaxed and leaned away from him. “I’m sure that’s true, and my fears are irrational, but they’re also buried deep inside me. I’m afraid they might come out at any time—the wrong time.”

“And here I was, fantasizing about seeing you on the bench again and coming back in here and doing this all over again—a hundred times!”

I pondered for a moment. “Well, here’s a thought. What if it’s only for sex? We never go out to eat or to parties with friends, or do it any place except here in this bed? If that would work, I think I could handle your magnificent cock a hundred times or more!”

“So, you’d be like—my secret lover?” he smiled at the idea.

“And you’d be mine.”

“And it would just be sex?”

“Well, are you hoping to fall in love?”

“Fuck, no! In fact, that would be fine with me. You see, I ended a long relationship a couple of months ago, and I was getting damned tired of beating off three times a day.”

“Only three?” We both laughed. I looked him in the eye and winked. “Well, if that’s what you’re used to, you’d better put on another condom and get to it!”

Ted did just that. We fucked two more times, and he sucked me off. I never asked, but I figured he wasn’t into bottoming. He came across as a take-charge kind of guy who needed to be in control and needed a partner who would take whatever he wanted to give them.

********

I made a point of being on the park bench a couple of times a week, depending on Ted’s work schedule. I never stayed the night, and we never went anywhere outside his apartment, but what we had there, in his bed, was something I’ll never forget.

Meanwhile, “back at the ranch” as they say, my job had become interesting and exciting, too. My managers appeared to recognize something in me that they appreciated, and I was promoted to team leader and given a generous raise. I wondered if they were somehow aware of my clandestine adventure with the Russian engineer who now ran Roscosmos.

On the day of my promotion, my teammates took me out to lunch and we celebrated a little too much. My boss gave me the rest of the day off. “You’re no use to me in your condition anyway, and hell, you deserve to let your hair down once in a while!” he said with an encouraging smile.

Ted wasn’t free that afternoon, so I went home, put on my Speedo, and stretched out in a lounge chair at the side of the community pool.

I must have fallen asleep, undoubtedly helped by the quantity of wine I had consumed at the celebratory lunch.

I was awakened by a dark shadow looming over me. My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the fight-or-flight response was about to kick in. A familiar voice set my mind at rest, “Well, Greg, do you think he’s dead or what?”

“Oh, he’s stoned again. Or drunk. Or basking in the afterglow of fucking his brains out all afternoon!” They knew about my arrangement with Ted, and they both found it exciting.

We laughed. “You bastards!” I said with pleasure. “What the fuck are you doing down here by the pool? You never come here.”

“You’re right, but we looked out the back and noticed this hunky dude wearing almost nothing, displaying himself in public for everyone to see, and we figured we’d kidnap him, bring him back, and have our way with him.”

“Well, feel free to do so!” I exclaimed with glee. “It’s about fuckin time!”

I gathered my towel and sandals, and we headed back into the condo. When I entered the living room, I was greeted with shouts of “Surprise!” and saw a half dozen of our friends smiling and saluting me with glasses of champagne.

One shouted, “Hooray, they brought us a stripper!”

Turning to Greg and Chuck, I demanded, “What the fuck, dudes?”

Chuck laughed, “We heard about your promotion and wanted to bask in the glory of such a rising star!”

“Oh, fuck you!” I said with a delighted smile.

Greg put one hand on my neck and, pulling me close, whispered in my ear, “That comes later if you’re up for it!” He let go of me and winked. Chuck also leaned in and added, “A three-way, unless one of these other studs wants to join us!”

We roared with laughter, and the group of friends looked at one another, mystified by the secret we had shared. I hurried up to my room to put on more clothes and rejoined the party in my honor.

Fun and happiness filled the house. All the men in our little gang were gay, and everyone had stories of sexy, funny, and embarrassing encounters. The champagne flowed, and at six o’clock, a caterer arrived with a delicious buffet dinner.

“You guys! You didn’t have to do all this!” I said with sincere gratitude.

“Oh, yes, we did. You’re worth every penny of it, and besides, since you now have a steady job and are fucking rolling in dough, we can start charging you rent for your room!”

“An excellent idea, my friends!” I agreed.

The guests left around nine o’clock, and I helped my roommates clean things up a bit. We never had a lot of cleaning to do, because a woman came in once a week and worked her magic on the little condo.

Picking up the last open bottle of champagne, Greg approached me and put an arm around my neck. He leaned in, kissed my cheek, and said, “So, how about it, Bruce? Ready to join us on the other side of the wall?”

I was more than ready. The three of us bounded up the stairs and into their bedroom. I realized I had never been in it before. The room was decorated with typical gay tastefulness—real art on the walls and a king-sized bed. Without realizing it, I glanced upward to check out the ceiling but saw nothing.

“Looking for a mirror or something?” Greg inquired with a suggestive grin.

“Believe it or not, I once dated a guy who had a big round one over his bed. And the goddamn thing rotated, too!”

They roared with laughter. In no time, we shed our clothes and fell into a knot of naked limbs and hard cocks, squirming around with pure abandon in the middle of the spacious bed.