The Glance - 2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

“What is going on with me?” asked John quietly to himself as he, too, got into his car and drove home. It had been such a long time since he had allowed himself to be interested in another man. He’d been a priest for years, and in all those years there had been very, very few people who knew about him. It wasn’t any of their business, he’d told himself. He was there to be their priest, to help them to know God, to help them deal with the realities of life. They didn’t need to know about his private life, he’d told himself. So he’d struggled for all these years with his very human yearnings for companionship, and his knowledge that who he was deep down was a challenge to his vocation as a priest. Truth be told, that was what had motivated him to move to this parish; he was tired of living in small towns and having to be all by himself. Maybe, in a city, he could have a personal private life, too.

But it was hard. The push to stay carefully hidden in the closet was strong. And all the work involved in a parish – the people, the situations, the management stress – they took lots of time, too much time. It was easy to be swamped by all the work, and to put himself and his own needs on the back burner.

Chuck has just shocked him into looking at himself again. Was this life in this parish, even in a big city, any different from what he had had in a small town? Was this why he had talked himself into the move? Was he any less lonely here than he had been there?

He didn’t want to answer those questions. He had a carefully constructed life; he was safe – and lonely. Maybe it really was time to change things.

The week sped by. He had lots to do – as usual. He had to teach, work on next week’s sermon, attend countless meetings, listen to people in pain, and try to find time for himself. He was busy. He found himself humming quietly as he worked, though, something he didn’t usually do. He was happy – and that was unusual. He caught himself sometimes just gazing into space. He was looking forward to seeing Chuck again.

Sunday arrived, and John was quickly swamped in all the details that went with pulling the service together. Did they have all the acolytes, were the lay ministers all here, were the announcements in place, where was…and on and on and on. Somehow, in the midst of all the hustle and bustle, John had to find a still place inside him so that he could preach, and somehow, in the midst of all the hustle and bustle, John found that he was humming again; he was looking forward to seeing Chuck.
As he walked down the aisle, he looked for Chuck, and didn’t see him. Maybe he was late; maybe he had decided not to come – where was he? John pulled his eyes back into the center, trying to focus himself for the service. He had to keep his mind centered. After the opening hymn, he began the prayers, quickly moving into the “Gloria.” His eyes moved quickly over the congregation – nothing. He moved on, chanting the Collect of the Day, and then sitting for the readings. He stood as the choir and congregation began to sing the Gospel Acclamation and moved into the center aisle with the Gospel Book, ready to chant the Gospel. As he lifted his eyes and crossed himself, he caught sight of Chuck off to the side, looking a little flustered as he moved into a pew. John smiled to himself. “Good, he’s here,” he thought, and he moved easily from the Gospel reading into the sermon, preaching joyfully to the assembled congregation. He saw Chuck and others nod a few times during the sermon, letting him know that they had heard the point of the sermon. He felt good about that. The service moved on, the Offertory, the Liturgy of the Eucharist, and finally the Communion as he moved from one to another, placing the host in their uplifted hands. Once again, Chuck’s eyes caught his. They smiled at each other, communicating through their eyes. “The Body of Christ, the Bread of Heaven,” he said as he placed the Host into Chuck’s palms, letting his fingers rest there for a second. And he moved on to the next person in line, aware that he body was thrumming with joy. The service quickly wound down and John found himself once again at the doorway, shaking hands, chatting with each parishioner, offering comfort, joking, connecting with each one. Chuck shook his hand, holding it a moment longer than usual, smiling into his eyes. “I’ll wait for you after the service,” Chuck said. “OK, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

The usual after-service round of greetings seemed to take much longer than usual. Why did everyone want to ask him a question when he just wanted to get out of there? He was tired and ready to go, and there was this hunky guy waiting for him. Finally, everyone was done, everything was locked up, everything was put away, and he could go. He hurried out to find Chuck out in the parking lot, leaning against his car, just watching the world go by. John said, “It’s my turn to drive, and your turn to pick. So, where do you want to go?”

“Well, I found this cute little French restaurant. Are you up for that?”

“Yup, love French food, at least when it’s good.”

“Oho, a food snob!”

“No,” John protested, “I just like really good food. And, I don’t like mediocre French food.” Chuck laughed at him, and John found himself joining in the laughter. Chuck made him smile, and that was good, that was very, very good. It had been a while. “Ok, stop making fun of me and just tell me where we’re going.” Chuck laughed again.

They got into the car, buckled up and moved out of the church parking lot. After a lot of “Turn here, turn there!”, they found themselves in an older part of the city and parked in front of a little, unprepossessing restaurant, Le Café Chez Nous. John had never been there before, but it looked good. When they opened the door, it had that homey, little French country look. Waiters bustled around in their white shirts, black pants and long aprons. A matronly hostess greeted them at the door and led them to a little table for two, nestled into a corner giving them some privacy. A cute young man hurried over to the table, placing fresh bread and butter in front of them and quickly filling up their water glasses. The waiter came over with menus and a slate blackboard with the specials of the day, and then left them to read the menu. They fell silent, reading carefully, trying to decide what to eat. John shook his head, “How did you find this place? The food looks great! The menu is limited, obviously depending on what the chef can find fresh that morning, and it sure looks and sounds authentic.” Rapid fire French exchanges could be heard in the background, accompanied by much loud dish and glass clatter, and the occasional, dramatic French swear word. “Look at this, they have Poulet Basquaise. I haven’t had that in years. And they offer sweetbreads and brains and fresh fish and, and, oh my God, they have an incredible dessert menu!”

Chuck laughed again, “You really are a foodie, aren’t you? You’re like a little kid in a candy store, looking at everything and trying to figure out what you can stuff into your mouth. That’s cute. Who would have thought?”

“Hey, I am a gourmet. I like great food in small quantities.” John defended himself, “But, I really, really like great food.”

“So, how come you don’t weigh 300 pounds?”

John blushed, “Oh, I used to. But it just wasn’t good for my health. So, I went on a very stringent diet, went to therapy, worked on my eating issues, and made some lifestyle decisions. I love food. I’ll never get over that. But, I can’t afford to indulge myself in terms of quantity. So, I try to limit the quantity, increase the amount of exercise I get, and I’m really, really picky about the food I eat. If I can’t eat a lot, then what I do eat needs to be very, very good.”
Chuck tilted his head to one side and looked at him. “You’ve really worked on this, haven’t you? This must have been a really big deal for you.”

“Yes. I was killing myself and decided I needed to stop. I was a food-aholic. I guess I still am, but now I’m a recovering food-aholic. Unfortunately, I can’t stop eating completely like an alcoholic can stop drinking. But I can try to deal with my stuff, with all the needs which got dumped into eating.” John smiled back at Chuck, “In fact, I’m doing that right now by going out with you. I like you, don’t know exactly why yet, but I do. And I need to have friends with whom I can just be myself. That helps me to not over-eat. Otherwise I just hide behind my weight.”

Chuck’s hand covered his on the table, “Good. I’m glad you feel that way. I like you, too. And I want to get to know you a lot better. I need friends, too.” They looked at each other quietly. A small, discreet sound drew them back. They blushed and drew their hands back, looking up at the waiter who had materialized from nowhere beside their table. He smiled warmly at them, and silently let them know that he approved, all that with just a smile and a look.

“Messieurs, we have some wonderful specials today. Can I interest you in them, or do you want to stick with the menu?”

“Please tell us the specials.”

He quickly ran through the blackboard, explaining the highlights of each dish and their different cooking methods. All three entered into the difficult decision-making process, what to eat, how to plan a wonderful meal, what wines to drink. Finally, they settled on their meal, picked some wines to go with it, chose a dessert as the final climax, and settled back, exhausted by all that work and yet stimulated by it, too. They looked forward to a wonderful, gustatory feast.

The food appeared, course after course, carefully timed to their own speed, watched over by the waiter who managed the whole meal effortlessly. They had chosen a tasting menu, a little bit of this and that, each dish chosen to complement the whole meal. They ate, they drank, they laughed, they talked. And their relationship deepened through the shared meal -- a glance here, a touch there, a quick smile, a momentary hushed pause as they looked into each other’s eyes. Truly, it was a heavenly banquet.

At the end, they slowed down. The quietly efficient waiter had cleared the table, cleaning up the detritus of the meal, leaving the tablecloth clean and neat. “Messieurs, would you like to move out to our patio for coffee and cognac?” They agreed and moved out to a small, candlelit table. The air was deliciously scented with flowers. A small breeze brushed over the trees. They drank delicious French coffee and their cognac, and sat in companionable silence. The hummingbirds flitted back and forth, hovering in front of a particularly delectable blossom, their wings a blur in the air. They were full -- full of good food, full of good wine, filled up with good companionship.

“This was good -- really, really good. I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.”

“Oh, John, I really needed today. It’s been tough moving to a new city and starting a new job. Oh, I don’t regret it, but it’s been tough. Today, was really good for me, too.”

“Do you want to come back and see my house? I’d like to show it to you.”

“Yes.”

They got up, paid the bill, leaving a great tip for their wonderful waiter, and went out to the car. They drove back to the church. Chuck got into his car and followed John back to John’s house. They parked in the driveway and got out. John opened the door and turned to Chuck, “Well, this is it. Please come in.” Chuck entered the door, and a new chapter in both their lives opened up.

The house was quiet, elegant, old. Wooden floors gleamed, peeking out from under scattered antique throw rugs. The walls were a soft off-white, forming an unobtrusive background for the artwork that hung on them. Watercolors, textiles, masks, flutes covered each wall, each one carefully arranged to work with the others surrounding it. Clearly, John had both very eclectic and very modern tastes. There were sculptures on the fireplace mantel, in the corners of the rooms, on antique tables and chests. Beautiful ceramics were featured everywhere; and there were baskets and baskets and baskets, some antique, some ethnic, some artisanal. The front rooms gave off a sense of creativity and somehow, a down-home kind of elegance. Things were rustic, and yet, somehow, sophisticated.

Ever the solicitous host, John turned to Chuck, “Can I hang up your coat?” Chuck just smiled at him, took off his coat and, as John reached for it, captured his hands. Chuck quickly pulled John into a hug, reaching around him with both arms. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you, up at the altar.” And he kissed him.

John froze. It had been a long, long time. He was used to being in charge, and this, this guy was was … Chuck leaned into him, pulling him tight into the embrace, lips covering his, tongue flicking along his lips. Suddenly John’s arms lifted of themselves. He put his hand on Chuck’s neck and pulled him down. His mouth opened and he kissed Chuck fiercely, his barriers going down as Chuck’s tongue thrust deeply into his own mouth. Their erections pushed against each other through their pants, their bodies bearing witness to what was going on in their souls.
Chuck pulled back, John’s lips chasing him, reluctant to let go. “So, are you going to show me the rest of the house?” John took his hand, and led him deeper into the old house. “This is the master bedroom,” he said as opened a door at the back of the house. Light flooded the room filtered through softly draped windows on three sides, the dark iron of the old frames giving the whole room a wonderful, antique feel. More antiques stood around the room, an old pine dresser and mirror, a pine Windsor chair, a bedside table in Birdseye Maple, and a large, raised canopy bed centered on one wall between two windows. Chuck drank it all in, pausing in the doorway. “What a wonderful room!”

“Yes. I fell in love with the house when I moved here. But, until now, it’s also been pretty lonely.”

Claws suddenly dug into Chuck’s leg. “Ouch!” He looked down to see a Maine Coon Cat, luxurious tail straight up in the air, rub itself around his legs, demanding the attention to which royalty were due.

“Stop that, Joe.” John quickly picked up the cat, draping him across his arms. “I’m sorry, Chuck. He can be pretty demanding. But he’s been my major company for the past few years and I’ve spoilt him rotten.” The cat butted his head against John’s chin, demanding more attention, completely oblivious to the fact that John didn’t have three arms -- two to hold him and an extra to scratch. Chuck reached out for him, “What a gorgeous cat. Let me hold him, please.” John let Chuck lift the cat out of his arms. Chuck settled him into his arms, able to hold him like a baby with one arm and scratch him with the other hand. The cat butted his head up against Chuck’s hand, purring the whole while. “What an amazing cat!”

John looked at the two, the cat seeming so comfortable in the man’s arms. He smiled, at peace with the scene before him. “Hey, I thought you were going to do that with me,” he teased Chuck. Chuck quickly looked up at him, a big smile creasing his face, “Oh, I will, I will.” He laughed at John, enjoying the teasing. Then he set the cat down, and reached for John. “Come here, big guy, let me rub your tummy.” John melted into arms, wrapping his own arms around Chuck, leaning up for a kiss.

And kiss they did, mouths melting into each other, tongues caressing, thrusting, battling. Every now and then they stopped for oxygen, their lungs forcing them to break apart. John found himself backed up to the bed with no memory of them moving across the room. His knees buckled and they fell back on the bed, bouncing on the mattress. Chuck laughed. He forced himself up on one elbow, shifting off to the side, his other hand caressing John, slowly working its way under the shirt, stroking his tummy – just as he had promised, moving up to slowly tweak a nipple. John’s breath caught and his body arched up to meet Chuck’s fingers. Chuck slowly opened each button, drawing the shirt aside so he could see the body his hands had been feeling. His eyes drank it in and he leaned over John, tongue flicking one nipple, teeth slowly teasing. John jerked back, moaning deep in his throat, his hands reached up and tangled themselves in Chuck’s hair as he brought the head up to his mouth again. And he kissed Chuck with every fiber of his being, trying to drink him in, to make his soul one with his own. “Let me see you. I need to see you,” he breathed into Chuck’s mouth.

Chuck drew back, kneeling on the bed, slowly pulling his mussed up shirt out of his pants, pausing as he opened each button and then drawing the shirt off over his shoulders and down his arms. His chest, lightly fuzzed with hair, a trail accentuating his abs, gleamed with sweat. John reached up one hand, drawing it up through the hair, turning it so that his fingers could lightly graze Chuck’s erect nipple. He sat up suddenly and began to lick Chuck’s chest, first one nipple then the other, then running his lips down the fur trail to bury his tongue in the “innie” which peeked out from the hair. He pulled Chuck to him, and then gently flipped him so that he landed on top this time. He stood, bending over to undo Chuck’s belt buckle, gently easing the zipper down, letting his hands move down the legs and slipping off the shoes and socks. He tugged on the pants and Chuck lifted his body so that the pants could slip off. Unconsciously, he folded the pants neatly and set them aside.

He turned back and let his hands drift up Chuck’s legs, enjoying the rasp of leg hairs against his palms. What a sight lay before him -- a man, muscled, hairy, no extra weight on the length of his lean body, a mouth which smiled all the time, eyes which twinkled, a strong, rough face – all man right down to the cock which throbbed and fought to be free of his underwear. It took but a moment for John to step out of his own shoes, slip off his socks, let his shirt drop on top of Chuck’s carefully folded pants, unzip his own pants letting them slide down his legs and fold them on top of Chuck’s. As he reached for his shorts, Chuck said, “No. Let me.”
Chuck sat up and scooted over to the edge of the bed. He reached for John and brought him forward, his hands reaching around to massage John’s ass. He bent his head and began to trace John’s straining cock with his tongue. He sucked on it until the front of John’s shorts were no longer opaque, all the while letting his hands knead John’s glutes. He stuck one hand underneath and caressed them, slowly letting his middle finger graze over John’s pucker. He slipped his other hand under the waistband, and lifted the shorts over John’s dripping erection and lowered them down his legs. He leaned forward, opening his mouth to gently begin tonguing the underside, working his way towards the top where he could lick off the precum. John’s hips jerked forward and then Chuck quickly swallowed the whole thing. John bucked again, his hands clutching in Chuck’s hair.
“John, I’m sorry. It’s been too long. I’m going to cum.”

“It’s OK, let yourself go.” Chuck began to move up and down John’s length, using all the suction he could manage, using one hand to piston the bottom length. John’s began to move, in, out, in, out and then he lost rhythm, his hips jerking spasmodically, his body arching, everything focused on the gush. Grunts forced themselves out of his belly and through his lips. He froze for an instant and then began to fold in, everything going soft.

Chuck gathered him in, bringing his arms up to cradle him as he turned, guiding John into his lap where John leaned against his chest, head cradled in his shoulder, aftershocks still coursing through his body. Chuck caressed him, using his hands as a father soothes a son to communicate safety, warmth, acceptance, love. John melted into Chuck.
Chuck stood up, turning to place John on the bed, and then crawled in beside him, spooning him so that his body cradled John along his whole length. “Shhh. Shhh.” He held John close. John began to move, trying to wriggle around. Chuck loosened his embrace, and John turned to face him.

“You haven’t come yet. Let me …”

“Shhh. Shhh. This was for you. Just cuddle in and relax.”

“But …”

“Shhh. Relax.” Chuck began to stroke John again, bringing his hand down along John’s side from shoulder to hip, over and over again. John let himself be soothed, nestling in and beginning to doze. Chuck pulled up a light comforter from the bottom of the bed and covered them both. And they fell asleep.