A Night in Hartford

He wasn’t was my boss. I did not, except in a kind of dotted line way, report to him. He reported to the boss of my boss’s boss. He was early 40s. I was late 20s. We got to know each other through work, though we did not often work together.

It was the mid-1970s. Not a particularly gay-friendly time. Not like now. It was all-DL, all the time. And not even that if you didn’t know. Only sort of guessed, but took no action yourself, didn’t know anyone. What a time.

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This is a counter-factual story of what might have been, but wasn’t. It is a think back about what could have been had one decision not been made – by me. It is up to you to decide if this counter-factual is written in regret. Well, maybe not, if it is being published here, it is a story of what ought to have happened if I knew then what I know now.

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His name was Alan. I’m Bob. Alan was maybe 42. I was 28. In the course of working together I learned he was single. So was I. He lived downtown in a fancy condo tower. I lived in a two-bedroom apartment in a near-by suburb. Of course, we each lived alone. We did not share much social information when we worked together. He did seem to like to stand close to me. I let him. I figured that was part of work-life. But we did not socialize. That came later – after about six months of meetings on a special project to consolidate information about external programs by the company to respond to the social issues of the day, like insurance re-lining. It was a good project and we got to talk about how corporations, and people, ought to be more open to difference.

It was a Thursday in April. We had finished a meeting. Alan asked me if there was any possibility I would come over for drinks and supper that Saturday at 7. So what else did I have going on? Nothing. Maybe another night of reading. Maybe some masturbation. So, my answer was yes. I asked if I could bring anything. He said no. He asked if I had any food allergies or foods I did not eat. I told him no. Wine, Beer, liquor? It was yes to all of them. And he told me to dress casually, as casual I would like. No company dress rules in effect.

He said, “The rules are undress.”

I am not sure I got his point. But I did say that would be good.

“Sure. Relax. Undress.”

I am not sure what he heard. It was only later that I found out. It was later that I found that out and why.

Saturday came. Around 5 p.m., I jumped in the shower, washed my hair. I shaved again. This was years before I ever thought of shaving my pubes like I do now. A decent cock, A decent bush. Why did I stroke it. Damn that was good. No real sex since college. Rita was the last girl to do that, to stroke my cock… Maybe Alan had some girls he could introduce me to. He was a good-looking guy. Who knows, I thought, maybe his questions about being single… maybe an opportunity to have a double date. That would be good, though I felt it would just as good to have time alone to talk about non-work things, maybe learn a bit about him that I could use to shape my future. I put on a nice shirt, nice pants, a sweater. What made me put on some aftershave. Maybe because I never did that to go to work. And this was special. Not really a date, but the first time I had ever been invited to eat with a company officer.

I arrived at the door of The Bushnell Towers on the dot of seven. Being on time was important. I like to be on time. I was buzzed and directed to take the elevator o the 10th floor. Alan had the door open. He was standing in it. Welcoming me. I walked past home into the apartment. He closed the door.

“Right on time I see. I like that.”

“So do I. Here is a bottle of wine – I hope it is up to par for the occasion.”

He laughed, “It looks good. And, my friend, having you being here is what makes the occasion. I have been wanting to have you over, to get to know you better, a lot better for a while. I think we may have more in common than you think.”

I looked around – no girls. But that was Ok. The welcome was so warm. So was the apartment – cozy with warmth. It was decorated in an almost sensuous style, at least compared to anything I had ever known or would do. Overstuffed couches and chairs. Pillows. Low lighting. Sort of like an image of a seraglio. I liked it some how. On a low round table topped with a brass salver was an array of snacks, fancy. Finger food.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Alan said.

I sat down, sinking into an incredible seat.

“Drink? Let’s save the wine for dinner.”

“What are you having?”

“A Manhattan.”

“I’ll have the same.”

“That’s easy. And be prepared they are strong.”

“Good.”

“Back in a few.”

I have not said anything about what Alan was wearing. He was barefoot. He had on a pair of what looked like silk slacks. He looked good in them. He also had a silk shirt. Quiet something. A couple of buttons unbuttoned. He was a good looking man. But what did I know about that?

He came back with the drinks. We clinked glasses. He said, “To a different kind of meeting than we are used to.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Cheers.”

We drank. The first one was strong but went down so nicely. The snacks were incredible. Finger food. I noticed he would use his fingers to scoop up the hummus. We had another round. I was starting to feel the effect of the drink and the heat. I noticed he had unbuttoned his shirt.

“Bob, you are… must be hot. Take off that sweater.”

I did.

“Better.”

“Alan that is a great shirt. You look good in it.”

“Thanks. We will have to get you one like it. If you want, you borrow one of mine. We are close enough in size.”

“Sure.”

“How about now.”

He went into what must have been is bedroom. In a flash, he was back. It must have been the shirt he did not choose to wear tonight.”

“Put this on. I’ll get another round. Then we’ll have supper. Just a casserole and a salad.”

“Thank you.”

Alan left. I took off my oxford sloth button down and put on what was an incredibly soft, green silk shirt. Maybe it was the drink, but I did not button it all the way up. Rather I pretty much matched how Alan had his buttoned, or unbuttoned. Half way down.

He came back with the drinks.

“Stand up, let me take a look.”

I did.

“Very nice. But I think you have one button wrong. Let me fix it.”

“Sure.”

He stepped up close. He unbuttoned one more button. While he was doing that, did he touch my chest? I think so. Hot. I had never felt anything like that before. Did he touch my nipple? Damn. Hot.

“Looking better. Twins from the top up right now.” He chuckled. “I hope that is OK. Not too personal. But we seem on the same wavelength right now.”

“Twins. Too bad I don’t have any pants like those.”

Alan said nothing. We drank some more. To finish the snacks, he came over and sat on the arm of the chair I was in. Close, closer than I was accustomed to a male sitting next to me. Somehow ,I did not mind. Reaching for a stuffed grape leaf, our hands touched. He got in his fingers first. I had turned my head to look at him. Without hesitation, he put it my open mouth. That had never happened before to me.

“There’s one left, Bob, want it.?”

“Yes.”

He took it. “Open up.”

I did. He fed it to me. Then he wiped my lips with two fingers of the hand he fed me with. What was that. But I did not object.

“Time to go to sit down to supper.”

We went in.

It was a nice dinner. Candles on the table. Nice plates and flatware. Good wine glasses. Delicious meal. We sat across from each other. The candlelight got me to focus on how good looking he was. It made the open part of his shirt enticing. Funny I wanted to see more. But that was something that would wait, if it ever happened, for a trip to the beach or to a pool. What was I thinking?

“Good?”

“Yes, delicious. I have not had a candlelight dinner in a long time. I always thought that was for a special occasion, like a date…”

“Well, this is sort of like a date…” he paused. Then before I could say anything lame like “a date”, he asked me, “So tell me about our love life. Date much in high school?”.

“No, all boys school. For dances they had to import girls. And I was just too shy. (Was that right? Or just not interested?) The dances in late grammar school did not get me ready. I had a crush on a girl. But, this awkward to say, my real crush was David Taylor. Imagine two 12-yea-olds comparing cocks?”

“I can imagine that. Sounds like my pre-high school and high school. Damn boys’ schools. It was worse ten or so years ago.”

“Well it was pretty bad in my day. I sound like an old man.”

“Except for David Taylor, and the cock comparison, by the way how did that work out?”

“I think that is too embarrassing to say, but…” the Manhattans and wine

seemed to be loosening my tongue. “He said mine looked like a bat and balls.”

“Balls for sure,” he chuckled.

“Nothing like that for me,” said Alan. Anything in prep school? I could tell you stories.”

“No, you first.”

“Guests first.”

“I hope you do not mind two very lame stories.”

“No, Bob. More wine?”

“Yes. One involved sleeping nude in the same bed as my roommate. Once in a while, masturbating when he was asleep. And before I get to the second. We took a long trip together in college. One night we were both nude in a motel swimming pool. I so wanted just to touch him. But nothing happened.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t even know what homosexuals were, but it seemed not right, Weren’t we supposed to want to do that with girls? But, I did want to. I hoped he did not see I had an erection.”

“That is sad, Bob. But I know that scene, that situation, being clueless.”

I went on to tell him about a college visitation trip I took with another friend. There were whispers that he liked other boys. But I thought it was just mean talk about him because he, like me, were for Goldwater and founded a YAF chapter at the school. One night on the trip, in our shared motel room, he suggested we get naked and relax. We decided we would masturbate together. Then he leaned over and took my cock, stroking it until I came. Confused I declined to do the same for him. The rest of the trip was awkward.

“College?”

“You’re getting personal, Alan.”

“If it is OK, that is my idea. So, the two incidents In prep school. That can be a time of exploring. Girls.”

“None.”

“Oh. That can be par for the course, too. No home-town honey from grammar school?”

I told him about going to a private school in another town, then my parents moving to another state, and the awful time I had the one time I got invited to a co-ed party. Pretty much ignored by the kids who all knew each.

“Ouch, Bob. How about some dessert and another drink?”

“Good idea.” I was feeling comfortable here. It was a good time.

We enjoyed some very nice New York cheesecake and two Rusty Nails. I was feeling pretty good, pretty relaxed.

“Let’s go back to the living room. I will meet you there. Time to get into something more casual.”

“More casual?”

“Sure.”

I went to the living room. I took the liberty of kicking off my shoes. Damn, or some reasons I undid more buttons.

He came back. I was feeling pretty mellow. And, I have to admit, he came back looking pretty interesting, pretty good. I felt myself somehow aroused.

“Nice shorts, Alan.” He had left his short open, all the way unbuttoned. He had some kind of leather thing on his chest. It looked good to me.

“Thank you. You look relaxed. You would be more comfortable with shorts like I have… you could borrow a pair….”

“Yeah, that might be nice. Why not. It is warm in here.” Did I feel my cock stirring. Being here was so nice. It felt so welcoming.

“This is a nice evening. How about another drink?”

“Sure. The night is young…”

We drank another round. I was feeling very mellow. We did not talk about my sexuality. Alan told me about his life, similar to mine in so many ways. He told me that he had, it seemed, only male friends. That it was good to be with other men, travel with them, that sort of thing.”

We had moved to a long couch. We were sitting next to each other.

“Bob, unbutton that shirt.”

I did. Then he touched my chest.

“Hey, what’s this?”

“Touching you.”

He leaned closed to my face. Then he kissed me. I resisted at first. Then, shit, why not. It was good.

“Is that OK, Bob?”

“Yes.”

He stood up. Took off his shirt. His shorts were tenting. His chest harness only accented his chest. His nipples were erect. I felt my cock responding. Damn I was aroused.

“Take your pants off, Bob.” He dropped his shorts. His cock was erect. It was beautiful. It was so beautiful. I could feel my breathing changing.

“Please stand up and take off your clothes. I told you I wanted to get to know you as a person.”

“I’ve never done this.”

“Do you want to, Bob?”

“Yes, I do.”

I stood up. Took of my pants and underwear. I was nude with another man, and not in some school locker room. And I was hard. He was hard.

“May I kiss you again?”

“Yes.”

He stepped up to me. He put his arms around me. He kissed me. I yielded. One of his hands took hold of my cock. He stroked me. I had to touch him back. I wanted to. This was so much more intense than any sex with a woman I had had in college. I was on fire with desire.

We separated.

“Damn, Bob. Hungry hands.”

“Yes.”

“Let’s sit on the couch.”

We did.

“Nervous, Bob.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry. This will be OK. You can go, whenever you want.”

“OK. But I don’t think I want to.”

I took another drink. I had not been nude with another male since that college trip. But the sex with women in college had always seemed a bit odd, not right, forced, done out of duty, with them doing the leading. Here, I knew that Alan was in the lead. But it felt unforced, somehow right, I could act if I wanted, even if, right then, a little odd. Nude with another man. We had kissed. I had never down that before. I had never let another man really touch me. I had certainly not touched another cock. Somehow, I reached over to touch his cock. Amazing. I stroked it. Hard.

“Nice, Bob.”

“Yes. How does that feel to you?”

“Amazing. Am I doing OK? Alan, are you queer?”

“Yes, and I think you are too. You just do not know it yet. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will let you know. And it is good to be queer, even if I, you, we have to keep it under wraps. Kiss me.”

We kissed.

“Let your hands explore, Bob. Mine will.”

They did. How long did we kiss and touch, just kiss and touch? I did not look at my watch. There was no clock in the room. No hurry. The focus was on what he was, I was, we were feeling. More and more I felt a wave of desire wash over me. More and more I felt I was in the right place, at the right time, doing the right things.

“Thank you, Alan.”

“What for?”

“For this?”

“For what?”

“Opening a door for me?”

“Good.”

“Thank you.”

We stopped what we were doing. Another break. Some more talking. Some touching. Would we stop at talking and do more touching? More drinking. Brandy. I wanted to taste him, Alan…

That happened bit later in the evening. We had just talked and talked and found more and more common ground, common interests. Nude. I felt so comfortable, welcome.

I looked at my watch. It was almost midnight. “I’ve got to go?”

“Why?”

“It’s late.”

“Anywhere you have to go tomorrow morning?”

“No. Nothing. All day. In fact.”

“Then stay. I would like you to.”

I stayed.

Anyway, I was a bit tipsy and I did not want the evening to end, even if all we had was talking, being nude together, some touching, some kissing.

I had told Alan about the last couple of summers on Nantucket when I would go to a secluded beach where you could find privacy, privacy where you could sunbathe nude. And I did. My college roommate had been shocked when he saw my all-over tan. He was from Iowa and had a fiancée. So, no wonder shock was all there was. And in college I did not play any sports, so no locker room times. And what the hell did I know anyway except that I like to look at the other nude men more than the few nude women, that somehow I had seemed to want one of those nude men to come over. And I told Alan I had masturbated into the sand with that thought. Lonely me. One time into my hand to taste my cum.

Alan had asked what I thought that story was telling me. I stammered that I guess it was telling me now that I wanted to be where I was right now. As I told him that story of summers past, he took my cock in his hands and stroked. While he stroked my cock, he told me that it was telling me what I might just be discovering, I was sexually attracted to men. How could I disagree as he was on my cock? Why would I? I wanted his cock, to touch his chest, to touch… And this was different from that college trip. I reached over for his cock.

I stayed. We stayed on the couch for a while. A night cap. I asked where I would sleep. He said his bedroom.

We kissed and touched. Then I do not know what got into me, but I got on my knees in front of him and took his cock in my mouth. Amazing. The feeling of his cock. Its hardness. The sheen of the cockhead. How it filled my mouth. I circled that rim around his cockhead with my tongue. I was where I wanted to be. Where I wanted to take some action. Not just be taken someplace.

“Where did you learn that?”

I broke off, “Just inspired.”

“Bob, let’s go to the bedroom.”

We did.

What a room!

Dark walls. Low lights. A big bed. The most erotic pictures I had ever seen. I would learn that they were drawing by Tom of Finland. What men! Incredible cocks. Sex. Fucking. Sucking, and how could a man take a cock, let alone a hand up his ass? Fisting what was he told me that was. One day I hope to find out. On the bureau several cock-like rubber things. Some clothes in black leather. And something hanging thing in the corner. What was that used for? On the bedside table some small bottles. A can of Crisco. Not like my bedroom.

“OK, Bob. Let’s pop in the shower, freshen up, get ready.”

“For bed?”

“Yes, maybe not to go to sleep right away.”

Sure I had showered with other men, but not with another man under the same shower head, not with another man taking charge of soaping me, rubbing my chest, strolling my cock, caressing my ass, touching my asshole.

“Hey, return the favor.”

I did. Wow. Intense.

We got out of the shower. One of the advantage of youth – a hard, hard cock. We were both rock hard.

“Bob, one more ritual. OK. If it is too far to go for you, let me know.”

“I will. What is it?”

“Being clean inside.”

“Inside?”

“Yes. Ever had a douche?”

“Not really.”

“Well we’ll both do it. I will go first so you can see what it is all about. OK”

“OK.”

Alan hooked up a hose to his shower head, something to catch the water than direct down a smaller hose and through a nozzle at the end. I watched in fascination as he douched. The warm water from the shower into his ass hole. His stepping over to the toilet to let it out. How quickly it was clear.

“Your turn?”

“Yes. Please.”

“So polite.”

I let him do to me what he done to himself. A dab of lube on my hole. The several douches. Finally, the clean water.

“Bob, for tonight are you interested in trying something?”

“Heck, this is all trying something. I like being here. I feel safe. Yes.”

“We are going to enhance how you feel by putting some white wine in this last douche. You will feel the effect almost right away.”

“OK.”

“This is so good, thank you.”

“So polite… Alan.”

I took the final douche. He was right, I felt a stronger alcohol buzz was over me.

“Wow.”

“Let’s adjourn to the bedroom.”

We did.

What happened next. So much. How to tell it?

I can only describe what happened that night in Hartford as a night of wonders, of discoveries, of an ecstasy unimagined before. Alan liberated me, set me free, unlocked the gay me to be the gay me. After that night there was no going back, ever, no matter what. What if I left at the first sign of anything other than an ordinary supper? What?

Ask the real me who left when he came back after saying he would get comfortable. It would be twenty-six years and two marriages, one ending in divorce… well, back to what I wish I had happened, my counterfactual night with Alan in 1976.