All Disclaimers
BLACK AND WHITE
Chapter 73--Planning
Monday, July 16th.
I've had more fun with my clothes on. The parade of "newsies" seemed endless. But, we got though the interviews without loosing our "cool", and without saying something that would haunt us later. In both tete-a-tetes, the conversation started out with the sensational (the attack on the Consulate), and devolved to the ordinary (a successful, gay couple in an urban setting). Try as they might, we gave them no additional fodder for their gristmills. Reed hovered nearby for both sessions, but didn't have to interject himself or redirect the conversation. Green as we were with the press, we managed to give them nothing new to print.
Tuesday was just as easy. This time, though, there were cameras. Both of us held forth at some length about civil rights for everyone, not just The Establishment. Reed looked more concerned, but kept mum. As expected, we were on the evening news, clearly agitating for gay rights, but not foaming at the mouth over it. I thought we were reasoned and clear. Reed and Dave agreed.
But, the hate groups and conservative Christians didn't. They had someone on the evening news show (during the "opinion" segment) raging on about the same, tired Biblical admonitions on the subject. However, the station had the presence of mind to include our rebuttal of that nonsense. Somehow, we were clairvoyant, knowing that the best defense was a good offense. So, we hit the Religious Right where they were vulnerable. Logic. "If you lift portions from the Bible," I'd said, "and determine that this is God's word, then, why aren't you abiding by the other parts of the Bible where it clearly says you shouldn't be eating shellfish and pork, and not mixing certain ingredients together in the same bowl? If you're such a good Christian, why are you ignoring the rest of God's words?"
"And what about the rest of the Bible where men are condemned MANY more times for carnal knowledge with a woman, than lying with a man? Why aren't you spending the amount of time on that directive as God did?" Dave added. He made the puffed-up, polyester-suited hypocrite look as ridiculous as he was.
Several friends called after the telecast congratulating us on our "brilliant" interview and putting that "pompous ass" down so well. We reminded them, of course, that it was the station manager or news manager who decided what parts from both sides of the question should go in the broadcast. But, we thanked them for their support, anyway.
Jeremy thanked us in a more personal manner, spending the rest of the evening and night with us. We did our best to service him as frequently as he needed it. "With Preston in Salt Lake City, I have to do something to keep everything in working order. You have no idea how much I miss that man," he added with a sigh. "But, how can we make this work with the distance so great between here and there."
We shrugged. I'd tried long-distance relationships, too. And they didn't work out for me at all. The phone lines were hot between us, but the distance between home and LA eventually cooled us off. Both of us had careers in our hometowns, which we weren't willing to abandon for the other.
But, Preston and Jeremy might be different. Jeremy seemed willing to consider a move to Salt Lake City. However, one long weekend of sexual couplings doesn't make a relationship. They would need more time together outside the bedroom (plus living together) to truly determine their compatibility.
"If you're serious about Preston, Jeremy, why not take a couple more days off, go to Salt Lake, talk to the Lexus dealership there, and get some serious face time with Preston," Dave suggested. "This would be a good time to go, as it's between semesters."
"And you can see if you want to live in Salt Lake City, too. It can be hot this time of year there, and awfully cold in the winter," I pointed out. "This may not be where you'd want to live for that reason alone. Additionally, you don't know what time he'd have available for you with him teaching and dealing with all that academia horseshit."
"You sound like you're trying to talk me out of it," Jeremy mused.
"No, just trying to open your eyes, Jeremy," Dave replied. "Hot sex (great as it was) isn't the basis for a lasting relationship. "Other factors (which don't seem significant now) will weigh in heavily later."
"Such as?"
"Weather, general political climate (Utah is VERY conservative), cooking and cleaning, snoring, fiscal responsibility, and on and on," Dave said. "Those are just a few. I'm sure there are others."
"One that you may find really bugs you is whether or not he's out of the closet with his family," I proposed. "I know a guy in Oakland who had a totally hot man that he was seeing. But, the guy was so closeted, so sure his other friends'd ostracize him and that his family would cut him off, that he couldn't really be himself. So, the relationship faltered, although they're still friends. In his case, the sex was incredible, so it wasn't an easy decision to end their dating."
"You make it sound impossible," Jeremy protested.
"No, not impossible," I defended. "It takes a lot of work. None of these roadblocks we've mentioned may be showstoppers, but they could be. Everyone comes with baggage."
"What baggage did Dave come with?" he pressed.
"Dave was married! That's a LOT of baggage," I insisted. "And he was just coming out. Who knew which direction he'd go with his new sexual discoveries? I was the only man he'd been with. So, he could have easily found someone else who rang him chimes more than I did. That may not sound like baggage, but it is. A hot man like Dave is being hit on all the time. Who's to know that one of them might get his attention?"
"And Mike had a lot of history with other men. I didn't know if I could compete with his memories of other guys, or that he wasn't madly in love with one of them who'd take him back in a heartbeat, ruining anything I wanted to have with Mike. Frankly, I was terrified that Mike was a love 'em and leave 'em kinda guy," Dave answered. "And I felt kept. It was Mike's house, after all, until we moved here."
"I suppose," Jeremy allowed.
"And you're not without issues, Jeremy," Dave pointed out. "Look at it from Preston's perspective. He's a respectable and respected professor. You're a stripper! That's gonna go over REAL well in Utah!"
"On the other hand, you have to deal with Preston's Mormon upbringing. That may have screwed him up some, but you won't know that until later. Been there, done that," I sighed. "I still find myself playing some of those old guilt tapes from MY Mormon background."
"You're making it sound impossible, again!" he laughed.
"Not our intention, I assure you," Dave smiled. "But, just have your eyes open. You're a great guy, Jeremy. We wouldn't want to see you get hurt, even if it is by another hot, sexy man like Preston."
"So, what should I do?" the mountain of muscles asked.
We smiled. "Only you and Preston can answer that one, Jeremy," Dave laughed. "We aren't in your shoes, your situation, or your head. We don't know what works and doesn't work for you and Pres. You'd do much better asking him these kinds of questions than an old, married couple like us."
"Who you callin' OLD!" I laughed.
"You're a year older than I am, so OLD! And we're both older than they are, so OLD, again!"
"I prefer to think of it as 'experienced', not OLD!"
"Well, here's an experience for you, then," Jeremy smirked. "Dave's dick in my ass, his face in your ass, Mike, and me suckin' you off." We stared at him blankly. "I'm on my back, Dave's dick is up my butt facing me, he's eating your ass, Mike, because you're on all fours, dangling your dick in my mouth. Get it?" We nodded recognition of his clever scheme. "Love servicing two studs at once."
Assuming our designated positions, Jeremy moaned loudly as Dave's thick inches slipped up his hungry ass. I pushed my leaking dick into Jeremy's mouth to shut him up. For a man who'd (in the last hour) taken both of us in his ass, I was surprised how eager he was for more. He chewed and sucked on me like a starving man. Each time Dave hit bottom, Jeremy groaned with pleasure and sucked harder. Dave leaned in and licked at my ass trench like a cat. He pressed his face deeper. I assisted by bowing my back and lifting my ass enough to feel his tongue target my deep pucker. Jeremy raised his head and deep-throated me.
Jeremy's large, muscular hands urged Dave to go deeper and faster. His moans of pleasure crept up an octave, despite having a mouthful of dick. I face-fucked him slowly, deliberately allowing Dave as much face time in my ass as he needed to get himself off. From the hot, increased chuffing of his breath on my rosebud, I knew he was getting closer to blasting another load into Jeremy's condom-protected ass.
Jeremy lifted me up with his powerful arms and planted my ass squarely over his face. "I want you to fuck my ass after Dave's cum, Mike. Then, Dave needs to feel me his cummy dick while you hammer my ass." Without seeking or expecting agreement, he lowered me to squat on his mouth. His tongue rocketed into me. I couldn't help but pinch at it with my ass muscles. Dave had opened me up well. Jeremy's tongue slithered deeply.
I felt Jeremy's thick, tree-trunk legs brush against my sides as Dave pressed home his attack. Jeremy's long, muscular legs were spread, his hole hammered in a blur of thick, black dick pistoning rapidly into my butt licker. The "mountain of muscles'" dick was leaking more clear precum with each thrust of Dave's hips. It looked delicious.
I rose quickly and repositioned myself facing the opposite direction. My bent over form offered a more spread target for Jeremy and a more delicious target for me to suck as Dave's climax drew closer. "Oh, Man!" Jeremy exclaimed as he drilled my ass with his tongue, again. I wasn't sure if he was commenting on my ass or Dave's skills at fucking his eager, and obviously hungry, butthole.
"You'd better be ready Jeremy, 'cause I can't hold back any longer," Dave warned with a grimace. I sucked harder on Jeremy, knowing that Dave's dick would be swelling fatter inside Jeremy just before he came torrents of creamy man sauce, and Jeremy's prostate would be hammered very hard.
"GAWD! YES!" Dave bellowed, slamming hard and fast into Jeremy's open ass. I sucked ravenously on Jeremy as Dave drilled. Jeremy grunted loudly into my ass, punctuating each of Dave's deep thrusts with tongue thrusts into me.
Dave hammered relentlessly on Jeremy's butt, plowing deeply and sowing his seeds (but for the protective condom). Dave's control waned. He fell across my back, pinning me to Jeremy's dick for a few seconds before recovering. I didn't mind at all. But, Jeremy didn't cum, either. I must be losing my touch, I thought.
"Gimme that full condom, Dave," Jeremy insisted. Dave complied. "You take his place, Mike, while I clean his cock off of all that lovely cum!" He chortled loudly as he drank from the flooded condom Dave had handed him. I rolled on a condom and took Dave's vacated position, while Dave assumed mine. "Oh, yeah," Jeremy purred. "Hot ass, Dave. Ah, fuck, Mike! I'm always surprised at how thick and big your dickhead is. DAMN!"
"Want me to pull out?" I asked concerned.
"NO! Stay there," Jeremy begged. "I just need time to get used to you. Dave's monster really stretched me out, but now, I have another big one. Geez! That thing sure does hit my joy button! Big-headed cocks always do."
I resumed slowly fucking him, keeping the speed down so I wouldn't cum too soon. Dave had a lip strangle hold on Jeremy's hard dick, suctioning heartily. Jeremy was making lewd noises as he chewed on Dave's round, black ass. But, his breathing was becoming ragged, and his "pleasure sounds" were becoming higher pitched. Sensing his urgency, I went for broke with my own thrusting dick. Powerfucking his ass, I knew he'd bust his nut in Dave's throat. Even in a condom, my fat dickhead was taking its toll on Jeremy's prostate.
"OHHH!" Jeremy gutturally moaned into Dave's hard ass. His volume rose as each new climax wave flushed his nut cream into Dave's mouth, and broke with my jackrabbit thrusts up his butt.
Dave swallowed noisily, his sucking maw draining Jeremy's full nuts.
"DAMN!" Jeremy sighed after we'd uncoupled. "You sure you don't need a houseboy? I could stand having my butt rammed like this on a daily basis."
"You don't have to be our houseboy to get serviced, Jeremy. But what about Preston?" Dave asked smiling and stroking another drop of cum from the mountain's deflating dick. "And what about Kurt and Gene? They still want some of this," Dave added, stroking Jeremy's hard, big, muscle ass. "You wouldn't want to deny them a butt as fine as this!" He leaned over and kissed both of Jeremy's ass globes. "We're not gonna pimp you out to our friends. We'd want you all to ourselves!"
"Oh," Jeremy responded doubtfully. "I couldn't be exclusive, not when those two monster dicks were beggin' for release."
"Does Preston know how easy you are when it comes to Gene and Kurt?" I wondered.
"He knows I have a past, just like he does."
"It's not your past, but your present, that he needs to be concerned about, Jeremy. I don't know if he's into sharing you as much as you are into being shared," Dave admonished.
"We've talked about that," Jeremy defended. "Neither of us could be monogamous now. It just wouldn't work."
"But, will anything work at this distance?" I pressed.
"I don't know," he admitted. "We've not spent enough time together to know if it can work. I know the sex is sure hot, though," he chuckled.
We fucked him again in the morning. He was every bit as eager then as he had been the night before. The only difference was that I got his load instead of Dave.
Wednesday morning's interview was a breeze. They didn't know diddly about gay men, so they were casting about looking for an angle they could understand. It was obviously pointless to continue. Reed ushered them out the door in less than an hour.
"Sorry about this one, guys," he apologized. "The magazine should have sent someone with more knowledge of being gay. Neither one of them had a clue. I'll be sure to mention that to my contact there. So, now you have a couple of hours to kill before the NPR interview. It'll be a brief one, but it'll be live. You'll do well, though. You seem to be getting comfortable with cameras and microphones, and this will be no different."
We called our parents to remind them that we'd be on live in a couple of hours. They were more excited about it than we were. A few friends called us to confirm that we were still going to be on "Talk of the Nation" today.
At 11:30, the talk show staff called us, asking us to stay on the line. The staff person was a very chatty, personable man whom we instantly knew had to be gay. He asked a few preliminary questions (like, how did we want the host to address us, and did both of us have access to a phone on the same line). Dave, of course, answered the first question by saying, "How about, Your Royal Highness?" The staffer giggled, suggesting that title was already taken within their organization and it would be too confusing to use it over the air. "Oh, and keep your radio off. The feedback and echo is murder."
I confirmed that we had multiple phones in the house on the same line, so we could talk at the same time.
During the newsbreak at noon, the host came on the line, put us at ease, telling us the kinds of questions he expected to ask. He also asked us to keep our responses brief, but complete. "After all," he'd said, "this is a call-in show, not an interview. So, we'll set the stage with a couple of questions from me before we go to the phones. Okay?" We agreed.
"Welcome back to 'Talk of the Nation'," we heard the host say into our phone. "This hour, we'll be talking with various representatives from the gay community across the country about what it is to be gay. Additionally, we'll ask has that community matured into a political force to be reckoned with? With me in the studio today is our panel of experts." He named off three people I'd never heard of. Dave glanced at me and I shrugged. He'd never heard of them, either. We obviously weren't on the A-list of the politically connected. "Also with us by phone from their home in the Northwest are Mike Claiborne and Dave Carey. You may recognize their names from recent news accounts about a rowdy drunk on a flight to Vancouver, B.C, and a subsequent attack on the American Consulate there, where they were spending the night. Good afternoon, Gentlemen."
"Hi, John," we responded in unison.
"Let's start with a thought provoking, short clip about today's topic," John said. Dave's clear voice resounded over the airwaves as the talk show rebroadcast Dave's curbside speech. "I couldn't have stated the issue better if I'd had a week to work on it. So, to our panel in the studio: What is the nature of the hate against gays, and is there any way to halt it? Are gay men and women sufficiently politically united and connected to even get it recognized?" There was considerable smoke, but no heat (and especially, no light) from the "experts" (as is typical). They were asked a series of questions and dodged them, mouthing words that could have meant anything. They were trying too hard not to offend anyone.
"Let me be more direct," the host said with a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Can we, as a democracy, call ourselves a civilized country when there are hate crimes against gays and lesbians and bias in the print and broadcast media?"
Again, they danced around the questions.
"Let's get opinions from the other coast. Mike and Dave?" the host asked, tossing the ball into our court.
Dave began. "Well, we're certainly not experts, and I've only been out for a year, but I can't believe what I'm hearing. I've haven't heard such obfuscations since I practiced law!" That got a chuckle out of the host and protests from at least two panelists.
"Let him finish," John insisted. "Maybe he'll give us light, instead of smoke. Go ahead, Dave." I could hear them fuming in the background. I think the sound engineer shut off their microphones.
"What's wrong with stating the obvious? Gay men and women are just as pluralistic as any other group you'd want to name. And just as apathetic when it comes to voting. It's akin to saying that all blue-eyed women vote alike. They don't. Gay men and women don't vote alike, either. They vote hot button issues, just like the rest of the country. One party may represent your views on civil rights or the environment; the other, on economic and tax policy. The way you vote (or don't vote) is the weighing of those conflicting issues. And while I'm out here on this limb, I'm going to saw it off by expanding on what I said in that short clip we just heard. Where are the conservatives on blasting hate groups? They don't take them on because that same hateful crowd agrees with them on other core issues. Why have these conservatives NOT distanced themselves? Because they need every vote they can get from any source." I could see from his frown that he was getting wound up.
"That's an awfully black brush you're painting the conservatives with, Dave," our host intoned.
"And rightly, so," I chimed in. "Being silent on hate is agreeing with it. Henry VIII set that standard with those who opposed his divorce from Katherine of Aragon and subsequent marriage to Anne Boleyn. We're trying to take the next step and (like King Henry did later) insist that you speak out on it, not just remain silent about it."
"We're not condoning hate or violence," one of the panelists began.
"You are if you don't pounce on those who don't speak out against it," Dave expounded. "You're just as guilty as the hatemongers! When hate is spewed, we should be right there in their faces with the counter arguments. And the media can help, by not giving them airtime to spread their viciousness without that balance.
"We don't have the Fairness Doctrine anymore for television or radio broadcasts. So, why aren't we insisting on it, anyway? When you see hate put forth as news, insist that the opposite viewpoint be broadcast, too. Stop giving them free air to get their vicious messages out to the malleable minds of our youth. The media is there to reflect the community. So, get reflected!" Dave smiled. I knew he was think that he'd said this all before. But, this was a new audience, so why not repeat himself.
The panelists scrambled to be heard over one another. The host broke in and called on one of more conservative members. "You're trashing the First Amendment. Hateful speech, much as we loathe it, is protected speech. We can't be in the position of deciding which speech is protected and which isn't. That's a slippery slope we'll never be able to draw a line on."
"That's not what Dave said," the host correct. "He clearly said that hateful speech should be countered, not banned."
Another panelist jumped in. "I agree with our gay friends in the Northwest. We should stop being so afraid to take on these groups that preach hate (in whatever disguise) and offer another view. Letters to the editor, op-ed pieces on television during the news, community forums, all of these will work at some level. But, I think we have an uphill battle to convince The Establishment, which is afraid of ruffling the feathers of any of their viewers or voters. Our leaders should lead, not bleat like sheep with simpering platitudes."
"I'll second that," echoed the third panelist. "Why does this call to good sense and citizenship have to come from the fringe of our society (no offense to the gentlemen in the Northwest)? This should be a mainstream effort from the two major political parties. Why is that not happening?"
"To be fair about this," breathed the more conservative member of the panel, "why are you picking on the conservatives? To be intellectually honest, we should be providing counterpoint to anything that paints hate, whether it be from the right or the left. I've heard some very ugly comparisons by some liberals of some conservatives to Nazis. That doesn't serve any useful purpose!'
"Hear, hear!" I agreed. "Hurtful, hateful speech has all shapes and colors. Let's not lose our direction by branding either major political party as having the corner on it."
"And with that, it's time for our callers to join us," John voiced over the others. He gave the toll-free number to dial. "Already we have a big line of people waiting to question our panel or Mike and Dave on the topic. If you can't get through, go to our website and join the discussion there. Our first caller is Sean from Baton Rouge. Sean, go ahead." For the next twenty minutes the callers ignored the panel of experts and directed their calls to us. John tried to get the panel involved, but the callers weren't interested in their views. Finally, one of the women callers (Joan from Connecticut) said, "I think Dave and Mike have great careers ahead of them in politics. I'd sure vote for them."
Dave laughed out loud. "While I appreciate the vote of confidence, I'll never run for office. The electorate isn't ready for an uppity, black, gay man who speaks his mind. But, I thank you for your encouragement."
"And I'm just as mouthy as he is, Joan," I added laughing.
"Have you thought of running for office, Dave? Mike?" John asked in seriousness.
"Thought about it and dismissed it. It ain't gonna happen for the reasons stated," Dave replied.
"The world's not ready for a gay couple like us, John. Maybe in a few more years; but not now, not with the current political climate," I added.
John thanked us for participating: the panel members, the callers (successful and unsuccessful) and "the budding politicians in the Northwest" (as he called us).
With a sigh of relief, we hung up. Instantly, the phone rang. Dave looked at me, I looked at him and, together, we shook our heads. We'd been on the phone long enough. Let the recorder pick it up, we decided.
It was the staff person we'd talked to before the show started. Dave picked it up before the caller completed his message. "You were great," he crowed. "And right on! I'll bet we get a lot of e-mail and website traffic on you two." Dave thanked him for his encouragement. "The producer would like you to consider coming back in a few weeks. We have another topic: mixed race couples. You're perfect for it."
"I'm not sure that we are. We haven't experienced any problems of magnitude over that issue. Being queer seems to be the more visceral reactions we've seen," Dave admitted.
"Nonetheless, we'd like you to consider it. How about if I call you a week or so before the show is scheduled, and ask, again? By then, we'll have the topic more firmed up. You can always turn us down, then."
"Sure, why not," Dave sighed with my acknowledgement. "When do you think this will happen?"
"Around the first of September, probably a little later."
"We're gonna be taping an Oprah show in early September, then, heading for Europe for a long vacation. I don't think this will work."
"Do you have firm dates for any of that?" the staffer asked?
"Well, nothing firm, yet."
"Good! I'll call you back (or the producer will) when we have a real date to negotiate from. Okay?" We agreed. "You guys were great. Thanks for being on the show." We asked him to thank our host, John, for being so gracious. He said, "Thank him yourself. He's right here."
"Hey, guys! You were terrific! You sure added more light to the subject than that panel of so-called experts. Sometimes, I wonder where we get these people. They're supposed to know the subject, but can't seem to get off the dime and say something." He sighed. "But, you pulled our little chestnut out of the fire REAL well." He listened to someone in the background. "Oh, yeah, you would be great for our mixed couples show. Tell me you'll do it?"
"We have other commitments that may prevent us from doing that. It all depends on which day," I said.
"Okay, as soon as I know the day or even the week, someone will call you to see about your availability. Please do it. You're a breath of fresh air!" he pled. We could only promise to consider it, after we knew which date it was.
Dave had switched his cell phone off, so its ring wouldn't disturb us during our radio show stint. When he flipped it on, there were 15 voice mails waiting for him. All were congratulatory, including messages from his parents and siblings, as well as from mine. Others were from close friends who had Dave's cell number.
The main line rang again. Once more, we ignored it. "We've gotta escape or we'll never be off the phone," Dave observed.
"How about if we all hit the gym and then do lunch? Your next appointment isn't until three," Reed reminded us.
"Done!" I shouted, racing to the front door, grabbing our gym bags and keys. "I'll drive. Let's get the fuck outta here!" We stopped long enough at Reed's car to get his workout bag from the trunk of his car, then, sped over to the gym. The noon crowd had dissipated, the stragglers leaving as we arrived.
"Wednesday, shoulders day," Dave reminded us after we'd dressed.
One of the bodybuilders came over to me as I mounted the aerobic walker. "You guys were wonderful on the radio. You said it just right. I hope something good comes from it. Tell Dave I'd vote for both of ya, too! You're an inspiration to all of us, even us misguided straight boys," he laughed. I thanked him for his support, returning his grin.
"You're only straight until you get the blowjob of your life from another man," I whispered. He was taken aback, but grinned. "Then, you'll wonder if there really is such a thing as straight."
He laughed. "Recruiting?"
"You? For sure, Rick!"
"If I ever did switch teams, you two would be the first to know," he grinned, and wandered off toward the "iron pile".
Other friends and casual acquaintances came up in groups of twos and threes to say that they'd heard us on the radio and liked what we had to say, too. Evidently, the word had been spread around the gym (more than likely Trevor had done it) that we would be on a national radio talk show at noon today. Even people I didn't think listened to anything but top-40 tunes and hip-hop had tuned in. We were becoming minor celebrities whether we liked it or not.
After lunch, we settled in for our afternoon interview on camera. "We want to shoot some general footage, then come back another time when we can hang out with ya all day," the reporter said. "We want to do 'a day in the life of' segment. The point of it will be to show how very ordinary gay couples are."
"We're so vanilla, we're boring!" I laughed. Dave quickly agreed, laughing, too.
"When do you want to do this?" Reed asked, hovering nearby.
"As soon as you have an open day."
"Next week?" Dave asked turning to me. I checked the calendar and nodded. "Okay, how about Tuesday?"
"Uh, sure," the reporter agreed after checking his calendar, too. "You available with the camera Monday and Tuesday, Jeff?" he asked his cameraman. His cameraman nodded.
"Monday and Tuesday?" Dave asked, wondering how Tuesday became Monday AND Tuesday.
"Oh, sorry," the reporter apologized. "Tuesday is when most of the taping occurs. Monday we use to get you used to the camera being around, so you can act more normally on Tuesday."
"Oh," Dave responded warily.
"Uh, just how invasive will this be?" I wondered aloud.
"We aren't going to tape you screwing or in the showers, if that's what you mean," he laughed. "This is for cable television broadcast, but the point is to show you as ordinary guys, not spectacular, rutting animals."
"Okay, I can deal with that," Dave asserted.
"How do you want to start the day?" I asked.
"We'll start it like it's a weekend, as you guys don't work. I don't want this to look like 'a day in the life of the idle rich'!" he snickered.
"What about friends?" Dave pressed.
"What about them?"
"We often have friends over for dinner and drinks on the weekend."
"Oh, perfect! A circle of friends, not an isolated couple!" the reporter beamed.
"Well, before we get too excited about this idea," I cautioned, "we need to think about whom we'll invite. This tape, when it's broadcast, will 'out' them, for sure."
"Oh, yeah," Dave agreed. "I hadn't thought of that. And I know whom you'd want to invite. Maybe this isn't such a good idea."
"What's the problem?" the cameraman asked.
"The guys we had in mind are professional football players. They could never be identified to the world as gay. Out as they are to their teammates, friends, and family, we can't force them take the extra step this would require of them," I explained.
"Why don't you let them make that decision?" he countered.
"We can, but I'm sure of the answer, either," Dave put in.
"There are other couples, but it won't be as spontaneous, I'm afraid. We don't know them as well, Dave. Or did you have something else in mind?" I asked, as he smiled his special smile that told me he had wheels turning over in his mind.
"Uh, let's just let this topic settle for a while," Dave suggested. "I want to think about this a bit longer. We may have an angle for you. Something like, 'Mike and Dave usually include their friends for a weekend evening dinner and drinks, but because of societies problems with gays, their friends couldn't take the risk to their careers, families, and lives to appear on this program.'"
"Oh, yeah, I like it!" the reporter said.
"For the rest of the day, we'll have to get authorizations from the gym and the supermarket to tape there," I warned. "And we'll have to let our friends know before the tape rolls what the tape's about and they might be in the final edit."
"Will you have some kind of disclaimer at the beginning and end that doesn't ascribe any particular sexuality to our friends, as we have lots of gay AND straight friends?" Dave added.
"You bet!" the reporter agreed. "That's standard practice for features like this one."
"Okay, but I assume that you'll pixel out people who don't want to be in it?" I clarified. "Or edit them out all together?"
"That can be done, too," the cameraman said.
"It looks like we have most of the bases covered," I concluded.
"We'll be back early next week for some camera shots to supplement what we'll be doing today. That's when we'll talk about a schedule of what activities an ordinary Saturday or Sunday would include," the reporter proposed.
"Works for me," Dave nodded. "What do you need from us today?"
"Well, how about yard work or dishes or preparing a meal? The first thing we need to do though is get you used to the camera being around all the time. We want this to be as natural as possible," he directed. The phone rang, again. We ignored it, again. "You usually ignore the phone?"
"Only on days like this," Dave sighed. "We were just on NPR and the phone calls after the show have been endless." Dave flipped open his cell phone. "See? Even my cell phone is full of voice mail, again. I just cleared it before we went to the gym."
"So, what'll it be? Which activity do you want to start with to get used to the camera being around?" the cameraman smiled.
"Well, I do need to do some weeding in the backyard and pick more blueberries," I suggested. Dave nodded. "But, we'll have to change clothes. Uh, I'm not sure our gardening clothes are right for television, though."
Dave laughed. "No fuckin' way!" he agreed. "But, we should be able to find something more presentable that are still gardening grubbies."
"How much skin can we show?" I pressed. "We usually don't wear shirts to do our yard work, unless we're in the raspberries. They have some nasty, scratchy thorns."
"I can tell you've got good bodies. Why not?" the reporter relented.
By the time we got everything set up and our shorts on, it was nearly 5:00 p.m. We pulled weeds for a few minutes, tossing them into the curbside recycling bin for yard debris pickup. It was warm work and we were sweating heavily. Dave went inside and got a towel to wipe us down, and a stainless steel bowl we'd fill with raspberries and blueberries. I took the yard debris bin to its storage place and returned. Dave had already started picking the raspberries. "Maybe, we should have worn something to protect against these spiky thorns," he sighed.
"We don't need that many for dinner. Just pick the ones you can reach without going inside to the second row," I recommended.
"Hey!" came a shout through the back fence. Kurt smiled broadly, then, frowned. "What's with the camera?" he asked aloud.
"A day in the life of a couple of fags, Kurt. Sort of a documentary," I laughed.
"I'll wanna see it. Any good sex scenes?" he laughed.
"No, this is family viewing," Dave said.
"Rats! You guys have dinner plans? I know this is your day for yourselves, but I thought I should ask anyway."
"Nothing special in mind," I replied for us. "Just picking some fresh fruit to go with whatever we decide upon."
"I'll fire up the grill and Gene can cook for us," Kurt grinned.
"Where is he, anyway?"
"Oh, you know about Princess Tiny Bladder. He had to make a pit stop."
"Your neighbors are gay, too?" the cameraman said under his breath.
"Yeah, and so are the neighbors on the north," I added.
"As well as several couples up the street," Dave smiled. "We've got quite the gay ghetto going here."
"Amazing," the cameraman muttered. "And right here in suburbia."
"The straight neighbors are okay with that?" the reporter asked.
"Sure! We throw the best parties, you know!" I laughed.
"And the kids on the block love those two sides of beef that live behind us, too," Dave added pointing to Kurt and Gene (who'd just joined his lover in the backyard).
Gene put his arms around Kurt from behind and squeezed him, giving him a peck on the cheek. "So, what's for dinner, Big Boy?" he asked Kurt.
"Well, blueberries and raspberries, plus whatever you can cook on the grill. I just turned it on," Kurt responded. "And Mike and Dave have guests."
Gene froze. "Oh, so they do." He recovered quickly. "Joining us for dinner, too?"
"Uh, no, we'd be in the way and we aren't supposed to be part of the story. Just a camera observing how gay couples interact with their neighbors and friends," the cameraman offered.
I gave them a thumbnail summary of what this was all about. "So, there you have it. You have less than a week to decide if you want to be out to the world or just to your friends and family. Your decision may have an impact on your future employment chances. So, give it some careful thought before deciding."
"I don't wanna blow smoke up your skirts," the reporter smiled, "but this 'day-in- the-life-of' show isn't going to be on the major networks. It'll be on cable and on one of the lesser known, more obscure channels. We won't say anything about who employs you or where you live. No last names will be used. For those reasons, I think you'll be fairly safe. However, I can make no promises to that effect."
"But, a couple of big men like you would dispel a lot of notions about gay men being wimps," Jeff, the cameraman, added. "You'd be perfect as dinner guests."
"I don't know if the team management would want this kind of 'in your face' exposure," Gene mused.
"No names, no occupations, no sexual identities assumed," the reporter reminded him. "Are you one of the star players?"
"No, just the strength coach."
"Shouldn't be a problem, then."
"I think I'd better check anyway. They might be kinda funny about this," Gene resolved.
"Do as you think best, but I really want both of you in this," he pled.
"Conversation at dinner will be a little stilted, I think," Dave observed. "We talk about a lot of topics that wouldn't be appropriate for broadcast."
"All that gets edited out. The show is only an hour and includes the entire day. The point is to show all of you sympathetically, and demonstrate how similar you are to the so-called straight world. We'll have eight to ten hours of tape that'll get edited down to less than an hour."
"PDA's okay?" Kurt asked.
"What?"
"Public displays of affection," Gene clarified. "It's something the straight folks do all the time. We're no different, other than we do them at home and at the home of friends, rather than out there," he said, pointing toward the street.
"Tastefully done, no problem," the reporter agreed. "Just no lewdness. Or if you do, we'll just edit it out. You should act as naturally as you would if we weren't here."
"That's where the lewdness occurs most," I laughed. "But, we'll try to tone it down. These are our very close friends. We have NO secrets from them. So, be warned: the dinner conversation will need considerable editing!"
"Fair enough," the reported commented. "We're losing our light for this evening anyway. Let's wrap it up and catch you again Monday. I'll drop by some forms tomorrow for you to get started with the gym, the grocery store, and any other place you can think of where we might want to tape from."
The rest of the week flew by. The interviews for the balance of the week were a breeze. More calls came in from friends and old acquaintances about the radio show. We acknowledged them as graciously as we could. Some of them were old tricks of mine who wanted to know who the stud was that I was living with. I begged off with little detail. Thursday and Friday were spent delivering notices from the "day in the life of" show to the gym, supermarket, Lexus dealership, Costco, and garden shop. We thought that would be a full day. The people we talked to loved the idea, but all of them (except the garden shop) held back signing on until Monday (after they'd cleared it with their higher ups). The garden shop refused. I guess the gay men in there couldn't stand the notoriety.
We decided to include Gary and Robert (neighbors), Kurt and Gene (neighbors), and Keith and Karl (our "medical" twins) in the dinner plans. After we explained the nature of the show and the disclaimers that would be announced, all agreed to dine with us. I was beginning to wonder, though. With all the disclaimers, even a blind man could figure out we were ALL couples, GAY couples. I ran the idea by them again, pointing out the obvious. No one seemed to mind.
The cameras (yes, more than one) followed us around on Monday, selectively shooting scenes, deciding camera placements, lighting, etc. for the following day. A large sign was displayed over the front desk of the gym stating that cameras would be in the gym tomorrow from ten to noon. "If you have a problem with that, don't show up between those hours," the sign boldly stated.
They had the good taste not to show us in bed, but did include a clip of us coming out of the shower, towels strategically placed. I looked so puny next to Dave. We turned our backs to the cameras to put on our clothes. I made breakfast with Dave's capable assistance. He squeezed me in front of the sink as I cut up an apple, orange, and strawberries, before tossing in a few raspberries and blueberries. "Sure is great living in the Northwest," Dave smiled into the camera. "All this fresh fruit, right as our doorstep."
"Except for the oranges, of course," I corrected, giving him a peck on the cheek.
"Except for the oranges!" he smiled, squeezing me even tighter. "I love you, Mike," he added quietly.
I grinned and blushed. "Not in front of the cameras, Dave."
"Fuck the cameras! I love you!" He turned me around and planted a very long, wet kiss right on the lips.
"Damn!" was about all I could muster. I was still a deep shade of embarrassed red. "You keep that up and they'll have to destroy the tape."
"And the problem with that would be?"
"There is more to us than hot sex," I intoned to the camera. "Although, for the life of me, I can't remember what that could be." That got a laugh from two of the three cameramen. The third one smiled, but held it in.
Dave finished up the scrabbled eggs (with cheese), toast and jam. I whipped up a quick champagne/honey dressing for the fruit salad. After breakfast, we worked in the yard for a few minutes, pulling weeds, picking more berries (from the inside row), and discussing the progress of our new plantings.
In another hour, we washed up and hit the supermarket. Jason had been warned that we would be there and had a list of wines ready for us. After rushing through the produce section and dairy products, we stopped at his wine steward station. "How are my favorite winos today?" he smiled broadly.
"We're not THAT bad, Jason," Dave laughed with him.
"But, you do have some of the best parties and the best taste in wines I've encountered in some time," he parried. "You have something special in mind for the weekend?"
"A small dinner party for some friends," I revealed.
"How many?" he asked.
"Eight of us."
"What's the main course?"
"Pork cutlets. You know those thick ones from Costco? And on the barbeque," Dave answered.
"Okay, you'll want a nice, light red with that or a hearty white. What's your poison?"
"A couple of each probably," I put in. "A champagne before, and a nice dessert wine to go with the sorbet."
"Depending on the spices you put on the cutlets, I'll suggest a Sangiovese or a Sangiovese/Merlot combination," Jason recommended. He picked up two of the bottles. "This one is great with any meat dish. This one is more hearty, but still very soft. Both are $8."
"We'll take the straight stuff, the Bolla 2000." Dave decided.
"Excellent choice. And what did you have in mind for the champagne and dessert wine? I know you prefer the domestics for your champagne. How about this one?" he asked, holding it up by its gold foiled top. "The Chandon Reserve Brut, a double gold medal winner, and a steal at $19 a bottle?"
"Twist my rubber arm," I laughed, extending my left arm.
He placed two bottles each of champagne and Sangiovese in the shopping cart. "Now, the dessert wine. You said with sorbet?" We nodded. "We could go with a bottle of Essensia if you are looking for an orange flavor, or a Sauterne, or late harvest Riesling, or an ice wine?" We looked perplexed. "This Vin Glaciere half bottle," he turned grabbing a bottle off his desk, "would be terrific, go with anything, and a major bargain at $17. Which would you prefer?"
"You like the Vin Glaciere?" Dave asked.
"Oh, yes. But, like all dessert wines, a little bit goes a long way. I would recommend only one bottle of this," Jason cautioned. We agreed, and he added it to the cart. "However, that leaves you a bottle short of a half case to get the additional 10% discount. You could always put back the Chandon in your wine fridge for later and add this magnum of J Wine Company '95 bubbly. Three stars in the wine guide, and on sale today for $65."
"That's a little steep," Dave said looking at me. "Perhaps another bottle of the Chandon Brut? We never tire of that."
"I'll convince you eventually to try this '95," he sighed putting back the J Wine Company champagne. He turned and smiled, writing up the order. "Always a pleasure taking your money, gentlemen!" he laughed, handing us the wine sales slip. "Remind them to take off the extra 10%. My calculator has gone missing."
We took our purchases home, then, went to the gym. Tuesday was legs day (even though the viewers would be led to believe this was Saturday. We began the workout (Dave in the aerobics class and me on the aerobic walker), occasionally chatting with other gym rats or assisting with weight spotting. The cameras didn't follow us into the locker room (thankfully), as Dave and I sucked each other off in a couple of fast releases in the steam room. We left smiling.
On the way home, and for the benefit of the camera, we discussed whether to go to Costco first or hit the Lexus dealership. We decided (already scripted) to go to Costco first, then, go looking at new cars. We dallied over the new books, snaring one each, added another bag of apples, and pork cutlets to the cart (along with other purchases) totaling about $120 (a typical trip for us). Before we left, we stopped at the computers and looked them over. "I really do need to ditch that boat anchor of a computer that I have. Let's talk to Nick, again, and see what he can build for me," I finally decided. Dave smiled indulgently, rolling his eyes for the camera. "I saw that!" I laughed. We exited through Ron's checkout line, chattering away like we'd known him forever.
At the Lexus dealership, Jeremy had swapped days off with one of the other salesmen, so he could be there while the tapes rolled. We tried the new convertible (we couldn't sit in it because we were too tall (which we already knew)), the big "luxo-barge" (the LS430 like Uncle Clay's, but a different color), the GS series and the IS. We were definitely leaning to the LS430, but they didn't have the one with the right combination of color and options that we wanted. Jeremy queried the computer and found exactly what we wanted in Sacramento.
"Which car are you going to ditch?" Jeremy asked. "The Beamer or the Beater?"
"The Beater," Dave smiled. "The Beamer has a few more good miles in it." We'd already decided which car would go, so there was no further discussion.
"Buy or lease?" Jeremy pressed.
"Lease, probably?" I ventured.
"Less than 12,000 miles a year put on it? Tax consequences?"
"Probably fewer miles," I answered. "We're investors, so the tax consequences play a minor role in the decision."
"Let's take one out for a spin that has all the optional equipment on it that you want. The color will be wrong, but just think Platinum Blue Pearl as you drive it."
After the test drive, we headed home, making last minute preparations, taking showers, and setting the table before our guests arrived.
We'd told our guests that the "drag" for the evening was casual: shorts, t-shirts or tank tops and casual shoes (like sandals, etc.).
Kurt and Gene arrived through the back door, carrying flowers. Not sure how to greet us in front of the cameras, they hugged us, but we didn't get our normal kisses. Robert and Gary brought wine and greeted us the same way. Keith and Karl also brought wine, but gave us huge kisses and hugs. "That'll piss off the Religious Right!" Keith giggled.
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