The Bicycle Lock

I began to examine Oliver as we ate. My eyes traced his eyebrows and his nose.  I noted slightly thick lashes.  His cheekbones weren’t high or unnatural in any way.  His chin wasn’t weak or prominent.  I made mental notes of his physical attributes, all of which seemed fairly average. Together, though, they were still just average. So why did he seem special to me? He noticed that I was staring at him as I ate my meal.

“Do I have dirt on my nose?” He crossed his eyes as if he were trying to see the end of his nose.

“No, no dirt. Just a nice face.” I smiled; my cheeks felt hot. Why the hell was he making me flush this way.

“A nice face? Isn’t that a euphemism for homely?”

“What?” I replied, surprised that he took it that way. “No. I like your face.”

“I’m hardly handsome, and I know that,” he replied. “Not like you.”

“I’m not handsome. Certainly, neither of us has that chiseled face look that magazines like. I’m not sure why they think those guys are better looking than anyone else. They’re not.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No, I don’t. On the other end, you’ve got Hollywood actors who are just average looking guys who are great actors, and all the reporters are telling us how hot they are, but they’re just average looking people with good skills.”

“And a makeup artist.”

“Yeah. And good dental work.”

“I like you, Austin.”

I stopped talking and stared at his lips. “I like you, too, Oliver.” And I did even though I barely knew him. I was surprised that he liked me; so few people did. Honestly, I didn’t want most people to like me. It made me feel that I owed them something. I wasn’t feeling that with Oliver.

“What I mean, Austin, is that I’m gay, and I really, really like you.” He reached his hand across the table and brushed his finger against the side of my hand.  I feel a connection with you.

I stretched my hand out and spread my fingers. He placed his fingers between mine. I watched as each digit moved down. I felt each finger slide down. My brain wanted to respond in ways that weren’t appropriate in public. Even the desire to pull him close to me and hold him was not something I would do where people could see me.

“You feel it, too?” he asked.

“How could I not?” I said. “It’s palpable.”

“I know.”

We continued to look at one another for a good minute before Oliver whispered. “I wish there were soft music playing and I were standing next to you with your chin on my head and my head against your chest. We would just move slightly to the music.”

“That sounds nice,” I said.  A slap on my back made me jump.

“Hey, bro.” Alex Miller sat next to me. “Sorry to interrupt.” He looked over at Oliver. “Boyfriend?”

Oliver smiled. 

“Alex Miller.” He reached his hand over, and Oliver shook it.

“Oliver Walters.”

His attention went back to me. “I knew you’d snag a hot one.”

Alex thought Oliver was hot.  What was I not seeing?  I looked over at Oliver. It was his turn to have red cheeks.

“I’m not going to bother you for long, but you won’t believe the shit that’s going down at work.  After Queen Elizabeth screamed at you as you were leaving, she was called into HR.  Rumor now has it that someone else had complained, and now Tanya is bawling her eyes out. That bitch practically French kissed Elizabeth’s ass and treated people like shit.  Now she has the nerve to boo hoo.  Fucking piece of shit.

“I’ve been asked to stay and talk to HR.  So have a bunch of other people, so you know they royally pissed at the Queen.  I would be surprised if the big man got called.  Anyway, I called in an order here, so I’ll be heading back. What are you doing?  Are you going back to the office?”

“I’m going to finish my dinner, and when I get home later, I’ll remotely check on the end-of-week activities and make sure they are done. I’ve decided to wait to see HR’s response to my complaint before deciding whether to talk to someone else.”

Alex nodded. “I’ll text you if I find out anything. Take it easy. Nice to meet you, Oliver.” He got up and was gone in a flash.

“Wow,” said Oliver. “Sounds like some heavy goings-on.”

“Only because some people get power hungry and step on others.  I will not be stepped on.”

“You need a hot shower and a massage.”

“After my slow dance.” We both smiled. I ate the last bite from my plate. We paid and headed out into the night air. I hadn’t noticed that I was a great deal taller than he was. We crossed the street and stood next to the bike rack. A nearby tree shaded the area from a street light. I reached for his hand and pulled it up to my chest. I wrapped my other hand around his waist. Oliver leaned against my chest. I put my chin on his head. “I don’t have music at home.”

“I’ve got my phone. I can play some.”

“So, you want to come over?”

“Of course I do.”  He smiled and laughed.

“I live just north of here, Twenty-first and Carter.”

“Not the Southern Villa.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

Oliver tilted his head up. “That’s where I live. In one of their micro-apartments.”

“I have a mini.” I started to laugh again.

Oliver’s hand slipped down to my crotch, and then he stepped away quickly. “It didn’t feel like a mini to me.” He chuckled.

“That road to perdition gets steeper with every step; be careful you don’t slip.” I laughed.

“Which way do you go?” He asked as he unlocked our bikes.

“I go up Debbie,” I said.

Oliver smirked like a middle-schooler.

“Stop it,” I told him.

He shook his head. “How far up Debbie do you go?”

“About two inches past her cervix.”

He backed his bicycle out of the slot as I came over to get mine. I freed mine. He was looking at me very seriously. “I want to go home with you. I’m not experienced, and I could tell that you’re big.”

“I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

He nodded. “I just needed to hear you say it.”

I hopped on and told him to follow me. He did.

The coolness of the evening air meant that I arrived home without the usual sweat and heavy breathing. Riding up the parking garage ramp was the most difficult part of the journey. I used two locks to keep my bike safe, and Oliver did the same thing. It was that second lock that forced our meeting one another, and it made me smile when he said, “Should I lock them together again?”

I led him to my five-hundred square foot apartment, and once inside, he pressed against me and tilted his head back. I kissed him, and he kissed me. He closed his eyes and moaned. A million things ran through my head, but I knew I needed to check on the computers at work before anything else happened.

--to be continued--