There seems to be a problem. I guess I didn't make it clear that the story posted as "Friends of Dr. Tim," chapter 1, was supposed to be totally separate from this series. I am not about to end "Dr. Tim and the Boys." Here is the next of what should be many more chapters about Tim, Ced, and the others.
That other story and any others that appear under the "Friends of . . " title are merely fantasies based on the characters from this story. The events in those chapters should not be taken as having "really" happened to Tim and/or his crew.
A large part of the problem is that the Nifty archivist, despite my request, posted the new fantasy series in the same directory as this series because that is Nifty's policy.
For those of you who aren't interested in those other, more playful, more imaginative fantasy episodes, just ignore anything with the "Friends of Dr. Tim" heading and stick with the old familiar title, "Dr. Tim and the Boys."
Whew! Got that? Okay, let's get on with the next installment of what's REALLY happening with Trey, Chaz, Max, and crowd.
The following fictional narrative involves sexually-explicit erotic events between men. If you shouldn't be reading this, don't.
In the world of this story, the characters don't always use condoms. In the real world, you should care enough about yourself and others to always practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.
Special kudos go to Tommy for writing the Max/David scenes that begin this chapter. Thanks also to Patrick, Ash, Mickey, and Evan.
Timmead88@yahoo.com Chapter 29: More Black Coffee
MAX:
[It's the Tuesday after the events of the chapter 28.]
Shit! Empty. A whole bottle of red gone. And what now? Right, the Glenfiddich Father John gave me as a welcoming present. "For medicinal purposes," he'd joked. Maybe if I considered it an anti-depressant? Guess that's what the Scots do, too. Damn! Didn't want to pour that much! Potent stuff! Nice and warm, though. But it doesn't help much. And I know I'll feel like shit tomorrow. Dammit, Tim! We'd be perfect together. But too late. Andrew's gone, and I am four months too late for you. Now there's sunny, sweet Ced. You love him, and he loves you.
So what about me? Who's there for me? David? I don't think so. That's just lust. You can't build a lasting relationship on sex. And what else could it be? But I want the real thing -- a mate. Tim could be that for me. How can David be anything like Tim? He can't. Of course, I don't really know him, but I'm sure he can't.
He's one of those really experienced guys, has probably done it all. He practically reveled in being dominated by Chaz. That was obvious from the diary. He opened up to Chaz totally. How was he able to do that with a complete stranger? Because he's just superficial, that's why! There's probably not much under the surface there. Nothing to protect.
Casual sex, that's what they had. Yeah. Casual, but hot. Well, not my thing. I don't do that.
`But imagine, Max, one night of hot, casual sex might help get David out of your system!'
Was that me speaking? My inner voice? Never! Vade retro, Satanas. Sheesh, this stuff IS strong! I want him. I want David. Sexually. It's not like me at all, especially after Andrew, to be so turned on by a guy I don't even know.
I suppose I could get to know him. Now there's an idea. Maybe he really isn't shallow? But I'm sure he is. And, he's not Tim. Shit, phone. So late? Better pick it up...
"Yes, Max Hewitt here."
"Hello, Max. This is David Taylor speaking. Sorry for calling in the middle of the night."
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Uh, is this a bad time? Did I wake you up?"
"No, it's okay. Go ahead."
"Uhm, okay. (Deep breath.) I thought we might get together for a beer sometime this week. Get to know each other -- "
"Oh! No! No, thanks. Yeah, you're just sexy, but I don't do casual sex. And you're not Tim. Nite."
DAVID:
The call terminated with a beep. What was that all about? Max the monk hung up on me! What the hell happened just now? Okay, I've had people hang up on me before. Usually I have a good idea why they do it. But what have I done to deserve treatment like that from Max?
I'm completely clueless. I've been on my best behavior with him. I even went to his church, dammit! I dressed rather inconspicuously, didn't I? We had a good talk at the party! I don't think he even noticed how attracted I was to him. For once, I behaved. I didn't make a play for him. I knew from the beginning he wasn't that kind of guy.
Plus, I like that group he's a part of. I think I could fit in with them. What have I done wrong? I haven't been the flower child here I was with Chaz. Oh, that journal! Right, Max has read it. And he seems to have concluded that I am the guy for casual sex, as he put it. That must be how he defines me. Sexy, but shallow.
Was that one night with Chaz the lens through which I'll always be seen here? My personal writing on the wall? And Max is the Daniel who reads it for me? Mene, mene, tekel --
"Just sexy." That's how Max perceives me. Damn, that hurts.
Which is strange. Usually I don't give a flying fuck about what folks think of me. Yeah, I've had lots of sex, and all of it's been what HE calls casual. But it was never without sympathy, never without caring for each other. It was a giving and a taking, and some of it was damn good, some of it was even magical. No relationships, though. There never was the right guy. Or is it me? Is casual the only thing I can do? I don't think so. No. But HE seems to think so, and that hurts.
Because his opinion matters to me.
Who's the patron saint of hopeless causes? St. Jude? And yes, I'm interested in that stuff. I think Jesus was a great man. It's just his churches that make my skin crawl. I did enjoy the service Max celebrated, though . . .
Anyway, somewhere I've read that Judas actually was Jesus' best friend, maybe even his lover. The only one Jesus could trust to really do what he wanted: betray him. Because it had to be done. And it was done out of love. Poor Judas. Of course he couldn't live with it.
Max sounded strange on the phone. Like he was drunk? I wonder -- yes, of course, that's got to be it! He was drunk! He'd never have said what he did if he had been sober. And he just spilled what he had on his mind. What was it he'd said, exactly? "You're just sexy... And you're not Tim?" Hmm. Now, that I think of it, there might be hope. It could have been worse, I suppose. And my first impression of him was SO right! That guy is probably trouble, but what if he's worth it?
MAX:
Oh, Lord! It hurts. My head hurts. And my back. Obviously I slept on the sofa. The Glenfiddich is a third gone. I only remember the first glass. Remember thinking how strong it was. Somewhere in the back of my mind is a vague memory of the phone ringing, but when I try to view it more clearly, there's a blank. Man, that's not good!
What's the matter with me? I've never been this wasted before. Never! And if this is the way it feels, I won't ever do it again. Oh, man. Do I suffer through it, as a penance? What day is this? Wednesday? Shit! I have to do the service at ten. I won't be able to do it right in the state I'm in. Better take two aspirin. Well, maybe some dry bread first. Oh yes, and lots of liquid.
I make my way to the bathroom, take a big piss. Then I go to the kitchen, have a slice of toast with orange jam. Then the aspirin. Back to the bathroom, a long shower, ending cold, and I feel I might survive after all. Half an hour later I stand in the vesting room, putting on my alb, preparing myself for the service. It's like meditating. There's a quiet place in my mind where I go. Like a clearing in the woods. There's me, and in the trees, the birds, the grass, the sun, and the wind, in everything that surrounds me in that place, there's the One I serve. And when I open my eyes again, I know he's always with me, and I'm never alone. With this feeling I begin every one of my services, and it's here today, too.
Toward the end of the service I notice somebody sitting toward the back of the church, in the shadows. He or she doesn't come to take the Eucharist, either. Nothing unusual. There are people like that. I'll see later who it is.
After mass, I go outside to greet the few faithful souls who've turned out on a Wednesday morning, and it becomes clear who that person in the back was. David Taylor.
"Hey, good morning, David," I say to him, taking his hand in mine, "nice to have you here again!"
He looks at me rather strangely, seems at a loss for words. What's up with him?
"Hello, Max. How are you this morning?" He sounds like he really wants to know, a bit concerned even. He can't know, can he? Oh, it can't have been him on the phone? Or was it? Damn, I can't remember a thing!
"Thanks, I'm okay. Ah, David, I'm sorry..." I don't know how to go on, how to ask this. He gives me a worried look.
"What's the matter, Max?"
"This must sound stupid to you. But I have to ask. Did you call me last night?"
"Yes, I did."
"Oh, aha. So that was you." I hesitate. "David, do you have a few minutes? I'd like to talk to you. Somewhere else --"
"Okay with me. Where?"
"How about Cordy's Café? I really need a coffee, and it's close."
He comes back inside the church and waits while I take off and hang up the stole and the alb and tell the secretary I'll be gone a while.
We walk in silence to Cordy's. In the café I choose a secluded table. David orders fresh oj and a bagel with cream cheese, and I have black coffee and toast. When we get our stuff and sit down, I jump right into my confession. (It seems I am doing a lot of that these days.)
"David, I can't remember a thing I said to you last night. I was dead drunk. I'm very sorry. I hope I didn't say anything to offend you."
For a while, David is silent, and I'm in agony waiting for him to say something.
"Yes, I thought you might be drunk," he says at last.
`Oh shit. What had I said to him?'
"What did I say? Tell me, please!"
He looks at me. And I mean really looks at me. Then he seems to reach a decision.
"Well, I had called to ask you if you wanted to get together for a beer one of these days. Just to sort of get to know each other. You said no."
"And? That was all?" Of course that's bad enough. But it could be worse. And, like in that joke, it gets worse.
"No. You said something else. That I was just sexy. That you didn't do casual sex. And that I wasn't Tim."
Oh God! Where's a big hole in the ground when you need one? I want to disappear from the face of the earth, but especially from the eyes of David, who sits there opposite me, watching me calmly, assessing me. How can he be so -- detached? His face is calm. But then I look down at his hands, and I see that they are just faintly trembling. And I know I have wronged this man. Badly.
"David. I'm sorrier than I can say. I want to explain, if you'll let me."
Surprisingly, he smiles at me. And he takes my hands in his. I've got big hands for a guy my size, but his are bigger. His strong fingers feel wonderful. The inevitable happens, too, under the table, but I don't care. It is completely irrelevant at this moment.
"My offer's still open, Max," he says softly. "Let's get together sometime this week. Then we can talk about things." His face grows determined as he adds, "But if you really think I'm not worth the trouble, we'd better stop everything right here."
I am very relieved, and very ashamed. I meant it when I told him I did want to get to know him. In every sense (but I didn't tell him that).
LORI:
The evening of that same day I went to the meeting of the German Club at the high school as usual. I had determined to study very closely Jessie Cousins. She seemed self-absorbed, paying more attention to her fingernails than to the conversation in German that we were having. When the teacher, Frau Schlegel, thanked me for being there and dismissed the group, I asked Jessie if we could talk. She seemed startled, but she agreed.
When Frau Schlegel saw that we wanted to stay behind and talk, she told us we could stay for a while before the custodian would come through and ask us to leave, and also that we were to turn out the lights and close the door of the room before we left.
I felt a little bit guilty, as if I shouldn't be prying, you know? But I knew that Jessie was the sister of one of the boys everyone thought had attacked Steve Metz. Therefore I decided to see if her apparent nervousness could perhaps have been caused by her knowledge of what her brother had done.
"You wanted to talk with me, Lori?"
"Yes, Jessie, but let's sit down first, shall we?"
"OK."
We sat. She looked at me with expectation written on her face.
"Jessie, I couldn't help noticing that you seemed nervous throughout the meeting. You weren't taking part in the discussion. Last week you were very much involved. Is something wrong?"
"No, everything's cool."
I looked at her in the eyes. "Are you quite sure, Jessie?"
She looked down at her hands, which were clasped tightly on the table between us.
"Is there something you would like to get off your chest?"
She sat still for a moment. Then she heaved a big sigh. "Can I trust you? I mean, will you promise not to tell anyone what I'm going to tell you?"
I thought about that. I know nothing about American law except what I have learned from watching television. But even a viewer of "Law and Order" learns some things.
"Jessie, I promise to keep anything you tell me confidential unless it would be criminal for me to do so."
"Oh, shit, Lori, you know, don't you?"
"Know what, Jessie?"
"I don't know how you have figured it out, but you must know about Jared."
"Would it make you feel better to tell me about it?"
"I've got to talk to someone about it, and I'm not sure what to do. I don't know whether to go to my parents or not."
"So, Jessie, tell me. Maybe I can help. At least it may help you to talk about it."
She picked up her backpack and began to rummage around in it. "I KNOW there are some Kleenex in here somewhere."
Before I could produce mine, she had found some. Wiping a tear from her eyes from time to time, she told me about what her brother had confessed to her a few nights earlier.
When she had finished, she looked at me, still with tears in her eyes, and asked, "Lori, what am I supposed to do? I love Jared. He's my twin. He's almost like a part of me."
I took her hands. "Jessie, you gave him a deadline, right?"
She nodded her head yes.
"And the deadline is past?"
Again another time yes.
"Then you must do something. The sooner your brother goes to the police, the better it will be for him. If he is afraid to do that, then you must either persuade him, or tell your parents. It is becoming too late to delay any longer."
"Yes, but . . . "
I squeezed her hands. "No buts, dear. It is up to you to see that the right thing is done. Don't you understand that? By acting decisively, you may be saving your brother years in prison!"
She looked up at me, tears flowing down her cheeks.
"Yes, Lori. I guess I knew that. I just needed to hear someone older tell me that."
`Older, indeed!' I thought.
"So, Jessie, what will you do?"
"What you suggested. I'm going to talk to Jared tonight and tell him that if he doesn't tell Mom and Dad what he's done, I will."
"That will take much courage, Jessie."
"Oh, I know. But it is the right thing to do, isn't it? And in the long run, it will help Jared, won't it?"
I nodded my head yes. Jessie got up, came around the table, and hugged me.
"Thanks, Lori. You have made me see what I needed to do. Say a prayer for me -- and Jared."
I wondered about her request until I remembered the cross I always wear on a chain around my neck.
"I shall, Jessie. And if you need to talk to me at any time, please call me. I gave everyone my phone number at our first meeting the other night."
It was beginning to become dark when we left the school building. I asked her if she had a ride, and she said she had planned to ride a bus but that she had missed it. I took her home in Mark's car.
MAX:
That Wednesday morning at Cordy's David and I acknowledged that we were attracted to each other. I suspect both of us realized that we needed to take things slowly. I think both of us had misgivings about our getting together, but the attraction was so strong between us that we were both willing to give it a try. We didn't say that in so many words, but that's what I felt, and I sensed that David was having similar feelings.
He told me that he had to be in Cleveland by 1:00 for a meeting, so he needed to leave.
"But, Max, I think we really should get together soon, don't you?"
"Yeah, David, I do."
"How's tomorrow evening?"
"Fine with me. Where'll we do this?" I was so ashamed of my place I was reluctant to invite him there.
"I'd invite you to my apartment, but so far all the furniture I have is a mattress and springs and a breakfast table and two chairs. Even my computer is on a rickety card table. I just haven't had a chance to shop for decent stuff."
I chuckled. "OK, why don't we have dinner together somewhere and then go back to my place. It is pretty shabby, but at least I have two comfortable chairs."
He smiled, and I got even harder than I had been ever since he took my hands.
"I'll pick you up, say, about six-thirty, we'll go get something to eat and then go back to your place."
"Sounds like a plan."
"OK, padre, where do you live?"
"Oh, it's just a couple of doors from Tim and Ced's."
"And where would that be?"
I was surprised that he didn't know, but then he had only been in town a short while, and the party was at Chaz and Trey's, some little distance away. So I gave him my address and explained how to find it.
"David, I am really sorry about my drunken behavior last night. You've got to believe that I am not a lush. And I'm happy that you came to find me this morning."
He smiled what I can only call a sweet smile and said, "It's cool, Max. Now, can I take you home?"
"Oh, no, thanks. I have to get back to St Peter's. But I'll be looking forward to tomorrow evening."
I offered my hand to shake his, but he used it to pull me toward him into a tight hug.
We paid our tab, walked out onto the sidewalk, hugged again, and went in opposite directions.
CEDRIC:
I put the weights back in the rack and said, "I think that's enough for today."
"Ced, that's not as many as you usually do. Are you OK?" Mark asked. He sounded concerned.
I didn't want to tell him that I was getting distracted looking up his shorts at his well-filled jock as he spotted for me. I roomed with the guy for three years and he still turned me on. I had finally told him that one day the previous spring, a day when he wound up with a lily stuck up his ass, but you know that story.
"No, Mark, I'm fine. I've just had enough with the weights today. Wanna go swim a few laps?"
"Sure. Don't we always?"
So we swam a few laps. Nothing lazy about them, either. With Mark it was always give it everything you've got, so that's what we did.
As we climbed out of the pool, he looked at me. I nodded. We headed for the steam room. Even though he was with Lori and I was with Tim, we knew each other so well we sometimes didn't need to talk. Besides, we usually went to the steam room after we finished our workout sessions.
That day, we had the place to ourselves.
"So, bro, I assume you and Lori are meeting each other's needs," I said, looking pointedly at the cock that I'd had to struggle to keep from touching for three years.
He grinned. "Oh, she's meeting mine, for sure, Ced, and she's not complaining."
"So, is she a real vixen in the sack?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I want to go there. How'd you like it if I asked whether you or Tim was the top?"
"Woops! Sorry, Mark. Guess I got a little too personal. And for your information, we trade off."
"Figures. You two are remarkable, you know. I guess you love each other so much, neither of you wants to completely dominate the other."
I laughed. "No, Mark, you don't understand. You straight guys will never understand. It's not a matter of domination. It just feels so good, Tim and I love it either way. So we take turns."
It was his turn to laugh. "OK, dude, I guess I don't understand. Anyway, I'm really lucky to have Lori in my life, and I can see how good Tim is for you."
"Yeah, it's great, isn't it?"
"Yup."
"Markie?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you notice how quiet Trey was at the game and at Max's after the game the other night?"
"Well, Ced, I noticed that Trey seemed to be in another world at the game. In fact he just sat there like a zombie and sipped bourbon from that thermos. Of course, I wasn't at Max's afterward."
"Oh, yeah, that's right. Well, Trey just sat there at Max's, too. He didn't say anything except to answer questions when he was asked."
"Wonder what's up with him?"
"Well, Mark, we've both known Tiger for three years. He sure wasn't himself. The rest of us were having a good time at Max's. But Trey was just -- well, he was there, but he wasn't, you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, but that's not like Trey."
"Something's eating him. I wish I knew what it was."
"Well, when I see him, I'll ask."
"Yeah, me too. I hate to see Trey down. He's always been the one to sort of look after the rest of us, you know?"
"I sure do, Ced."
After a pause I said, "So, Mark, you haven't mentioned your Pops lately. How are things working out with him and his guy?"
"Oh," he said, beaming, "it's so cool to talk with him on the phone and hear the happiness and enthusiasm in his voice. He seems totally taken with Doug."
"Have you ever talked with Doug?"
"Yeah, I have. Whenever I call Pops or he calls me, I get to talk with Doug too. He seems like a great guy. And you know what? He told me -- I didn't ask, he just volunteered -- that he wanted me to know he loved Pops, was committed to him, and would never do anything to hurt him."
"Wow. That's so cool!"
Mark smiled. "Yeah. You know what's really sweet? Pops and Doug are going to go to Key West over the Veterans' Day weekend. They have to be so careful there in Bumfuck. Egypt. This will be their first getaway, the first time they'll be able to let their guard down and be openly affectionate with each other. Sort of like a honeymoon."
I had had enough steam and longed for the showers, so I stood up. "Well, Markie, your dad is one of the world's special guys. I'm really happy he's found this Doug. If Doug ever should do anything to hurt Pops, I think the Brotherhood would have to go to Bumfuck en masse and remove his balls!"
Mark stood up, slapped me on the butt, and said, "You just reminded me why I love you, Cedric."
We showered, dressed, and went home to our respective mates. I was worried about Tiger. It wasn't like him to brood.
DAVID:
When I got back to my apartment from Cleveland, I changed out of the suit I was wearing. I decided I didn't want to do ANYTHING to alarm Max, so I chose a dark green silk shirt, (yeah, I know what looks good with this hair), khakis, and my cordovan loafers.
Before winter came, I was going to find a place to store the Vette and get myself something practical. In northern Ohio some sort of four-wheel-drive vehicle seemed the most practical, but damn! I didn't want to drive one of those things. Anyway, I pulled up in front of Max's townhouse in my red baby. He must have been watching for me, because he was out the front door before I could get up out of the car. I was amused by his choice of clothes. He must have been dressing for me. He had on a light blue chambray shirt, faded jeans, and sandals.
He stopped before he got in and looked the Vette over carefully.
"So this is your car! Pretty spectacular, David, I must say. I've never ridden in a Corvette before."
"Sometime when I don't have this big empty place in my stomach we'll find a nice deserted Ohio road and I'll show her off for you."
He grinned. "I'd like that." After he got his shoulder belt fastened, he reached his left hand toward me. I took it in my right and squeezed it. Just like every other time I've touched him, even after church those two times, I felt something like an electric shock go through me. Trouble? Maybe. Sexy? Definitely.
"But you're hungry," he said, looking at me sympathetically. "Let's get that taken care of right now. Where are we going?"
"I hadn't planned anything. I wanted to see what you wanted to do. What do you feel like? "
He laughed. "David, I'm not your date. We're just a couple of guys who might become friends going out to have something to eat. And I see that I underdressed, so it had better be someplace casual."
"You look great, Max." And did he ever! I hadn't realized before what a muscular little hunk he was. Great shoulders and chest. Better still, his ass, thighs, and package all showed to perfection in those jeans.
"I'm in the mood for a steak. How does that sound to you?"
He laughed again, seeming to relax a little. "Better than the frozen pot pie I'd have nuked if we weren't doing this."
"OK, is The Outback acceptable?"
"Sure."
As usual, there was a wait, but since it was a Thursday evening, it wasn't a long one. We had beer in the bar until they called for us. We both had steak, baked potato, and salad. OK, so it wasn't very original, but it filled the hole. And Max seemed to be as hungry as I was.
During dinner we just made small talk. He asked about my day, and I asked about his. We talked about the Browns' upcoming season and agreed that it didn't look too hopeful. Then I mentioned the Bengals, and we laughed about their dismal prospects.
He wanted to know where I had done my undergrad work, and I told him Antioch.
"Why does that not surprise me?" he said, grinning broadly for the first time all evening.
I knew what he meant, but I didn't let on.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, David, Antioch has a reputation around the state for being, how shall I put it?"
"The last holdout of hippiedom this side of California, maybe?" I said, grinning back at him.
"Well, yeah, since you said it."
"And you see me as something of a hippie?"
He looked straight at me, and I became aware again how beautiful those chocolate eyes of his really were.
"Now that I think of it, it was the silk harem pants in Chaz's journal that made me see you as something of a hippie. What I've observed of you so far doesn't suggest that. Except for the hair, of course."
"You don't like the hair?"
"Man, I love the hair. I think it's incredibly hot."
"Well, thank you, Father Max! Never thought I'd get that kind of compliment from a priest."
"David, let me make a bargain with you. I won't let my preconceptions about you based on Chaz's journal affect my attitude toward you, if you'll forget that I'm a priest. Can we agree to that?"
I stuck my hand across the table at him. "Deal."
"Deal," he said, shaking my hand. I would have liked to hold it, but in view of where we were, I didn't.
As we ate, he told me about being Tim's cross-country teammate and friend at Kenyon and about going to seminary in California.
I told him about what a truly free-spirited place Antioch was and about working on my MS at Miami.
After we had cleaned up our dinners, our server asked if we wanted dessert. She didn't have a clue about us and was being VERY friendly.
"David," Max said, "I bought a Marie Callendar frozen apple pie at the market today and baked it this afternoon. It should still be warm. And I've got some cinnamon ice cream from Fein's we could put on it. Would you like to have that instead of ordering dessert here?"
The server, a young woman who was, I suspect, a university student, leaned toward us and said softly, "Take him up on it. It'll be as good as anything we have, better with Fein's ice cream."
"OK, I guess we don't need anything else, thanks."
She thanked us, gave us each a big smile, and left our checks.
"Do you ever get used to that?"
"Used to what?" I asked, pretending I didn't know what he meant.
"Used to having women look at you with lust in their eyes. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure you must get a lot of men doing that, too."
"I'll never get used to it, Max. But I always feel flattered -- and undeserving, since I didn't do anything to look the way I do."
"Well, you did, apparently, decide to let your hair grow."
I chuckled. "You know, that was more an in-your-face thing while I was in college than any intentional way of making myself more attractive. I was surprised to find out how many people like my hair long."
We paid our bills and left. I wondered where the evening was going. So far, we had only lightly explored each other's background, likes and dislikes, etc. I was torn between asking him to tell me all about the REAL Max Hewitt and grabbing him, tearing off his clothes, and sticking various appendages up his fine muscular ass.
When we got to his place, he excused himself to go into the kitchen and make coffee, leaving me in the living room. I took the occasion to see what I could learn about him from that room. There was a new sofa, but all the rest of the furniture was well used. He had a tv, of course. His stereo was one of Pioneer's less expensive systems. There were no books. I assumed he had them somewhere else. Since the townhouse had a second floor, I suspected he was using one of the upstairs bedrooms as a computer-room/office, and that's where his books would be.
He did, however, have maybe 150 cd's. There were the predictable popular rock albums from the early and mid 90's, such as Nirvana's "Nevermind" and "In Utero," Sting's "Fields of Gold," U2's "The Joshua Tree," and a couple of Guns N Roses things. The latest thing he had was Bryan Adams' "Unplugged." There were no cd's from groups popular since about 1997. The bulk of his collection was made up of classical and jazz albums, from Bach to Ella Fitzgerald and even Diana Krall.
I was looking at them when he came back into the room.
"The coffee'll be ready in a few minutes."
"Max, you and I have some musical tastes in common, it appears. Hope you don't mind me looking at your collection of cd's."
He smiled. "Not at all. I'd probably be doing the same thing at your place."
We talked about jazz for a while. Then he seemed to remember something.
"I understand there's a grad student here at the university who has a very good trio. They have played on campus, but they play just about every weekend at a restaurant in Cleveland Heights, or University Heights. Even though I grew up in Akron, I'm never sure where the boundaries are in those east-side Cleveland suburbs."
I just smiled, waiting for him to go on.
"Anyway, they say the Geoff Benton Trio is really good. It's Trey who knows Geoff, but the whole gang of them has been to this place to hear them play. Maybe, if you'd like, we could go sometime. Or is that pushing things?"
"No, Max, that's not pushing. I'd love to go hear this group play. Do you think you could get directions?"
"Yeah, Cedric could tell us how to get there. That's very close to where he lives. Would you be more comfortable if we asked if any of the guys wanted to go with us?"
"Hey, man, either way." Actually, I thought it would be nice for just the two of us to go. I imagined sitting watching his face as he listened to the trio, trying to read his reactions. Then it dawned on me that I wouldn't give a shit about his reactions to a jazz group if all I wanted from him was a roll in the hay. As I was learning about Max, perhaps I was learning something about myself as well.
"David, do you like any other kinds of music?"
"Well, you can't be our age and ignore the whole popular music scene. I enjoy a variety of stuff, things like Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Manic Street Preachers, Sixteen Horsepower, and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. But I confess," he said, grinning, "if you promise not to tell anybody, I also like a lot of the classical stuff. A music appreciation course I took at Antioch my freshman year actually worked, and I've never been able to get enough since. When I'm home I catch the Cincinnati Symphony every chance I get. And I'd love to hear the Cleveland Orchestra play in Severance Hall sometime. What about you, Max? I see that you have a lot of classical cd's."
He smiled. "When Tim and I were at Kenyon, we used to spend many of our Sunday afternoons listening to classical music in his room or mine. My home is Akron, as I said, and the Blossom Music Center is nearby, so I used to go there a lot when the Orchestra was playing there in the summer. I've been to Severance a few times, but I've been really hoping to get there for some concerts this season."
He stood up, offered me his hand, and led me to the kitchen. That boded well, I thought. He served up the warm pie with a couple of scoops of ice cream on each piece, plus the coffee.
Although I come from Cincinnati and know in my heart that no one makes better ice cream than Greater's, I must admit that Fein's was nearly as good.
"Mmm! Max, this is super."
He grinned. "Well, you could cover almost anything with that ice cream and it would be good."
"Cinnamon ice cream with apple pie is a great Idea, though."
Since his mouth was full, he just nodded his acknowledgement of the compliment. When he had chewed and swallowed, he asked, "Getting back to the Orchestra for a minute. Would you be interested in going with me to some Severance concerts?"
"Oh, yeah. Let's plan on it." I paused. "But Max, babe, I don't see any recent rock in your collection. What's with that?"
"Well, in seminary and during the year since I was ordained, I've just been too busy to keep up. I mean, I listen to lots of things on the car radio, but I've pretty well lost touch with the current rock scene."
"Would you let me help you get back in the groove? I've got a pretty good collection."
"I'd like that, David."
We had seconds on the pie and ice cream. We both decided we'd have to do extra reps the next time we worked out. And that was another thing we mentioned that we might do together. I hadn't found a gym to join yet, and he suggested that I might join his.
Back in the living room, with a Sarah Vaughn disc playing softly in the background, Max asked me what sort of things I liked to read.
"What, me read? David the hippie? David Taylor the computer geek? Is reading something you're supposed to like?"
He looked almost panicked for a moment until he realized I was jerking his chain. Then he chuckled.
"Actually, and you aren't going to believe this, lately I've been reading Tillich, Bonhoefer, Merton, and one of your colleagues, William Countryman."
His eyes widened. "I don't believe it!"
"What?"
"Two things, actually. I thought you didn't like religion, first of all."
"I think I said, padre, that I don't much like churches. Now, what's the second thing?"
"Bill Countryman isn't exactly a colleague, though we're both priests. He was one of my professors in seminary."
"Oh, you went to that place in Berkeley? You hadn't mentioned that."
"Yeah, the Church Divinity School of the Pacific."
"Well, I've read a couple of his books. I especially liked the one about everyone having his own priesthood."
"That's `Living on the Border of the Holy.'"
We talked about that for a while.
Then he said, "Want to go back to the living room? The chairs are more comfortable. Would you like to take another cup of coffee in there with you?"
I refused the coffee. When we were sitting facing each other, he said, "David, I am really glad we did this tonight. And I think it's been pretty successful."
"Yes, Max, it seems we do have some interests in common. Do you think they are enough to build a relationship on?"
He grinned. "Along with the sex, you mean?"
"Wow! You aren't pulling any punches, are you?"
"We have to be honest with each other, don't you think?"
"Yep."
"Well, then I think there's one more thing about me you need to know. I'm not very experienced. Oh, I've had lots of sex, but it was always with the same guy."
Sensing something important was coming, I didn't say anything.
His face clouded. He didn't exactly get tears in his eyes, but he looked very sad.
"Max, something bad happened, didn't it? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"No, David I do want to tell you. If we're going to be friends, you need to know about Andrew."
And he told me about how much he had loved Andrew, about how they had hoped to stay together somehow after they were ordained, and about how Andrew was killed in South America the summer before their last year of seminary.
When he finished, I went over to where he was sitting and held out my hands. He gave me his, and I pulled him up. I took him to the sofa, and pulled him down to sit beside me. I was hoping I wasn't doing the wrong thing, but I put my arms around him and held him.
"Max, Andrew will always be a beautiful part of your life. But I hope you can find someone who will make you as happy as he did. You deserve that."
He rested his head on my shoulder.
God! I wanted to take him to bed and make gentle love to him, but I feared this wasn't the moment. And I felt a tenderness for him I'd never felt for anyone, so I wanted to be very careful not to do anything wrong.
After ten minutes or so, I kissed him on the forehead. He looked up, smiled at me, and said, "It's getting late, isn't it, David?"
"Max, this has been a great evening for me. And I'm touched that you'd tell me about your special Andrew. But it IS late and we both have to work tomorrow, so I'd better go. Is it all right if I call you when I get home tomorrow evening? Maybe we can do something then or on Saturday if you don't have any plans.
He brightened up. "Yeah, please do." Then he grinned. "Maybe we could find that deserted road and you could show off your little red toy out there."
I gave him a hug. "Deal," I said.
At the door, he stood on tiptoe and gave me a chaste peck on the lips.
"I'm looking forward to the weekend, David. Of course, you know, I'll have to be at church all morning Sunday."
"Yeah, I know, father," I said, grinning.
He walked out to the curb with me, where we hugged again. He waved as I drove off.
I hoped I had done the right things. I hadn't asked him about Tim. I hadn't made any sexual advances. Apparently I hadn't scared him off. I had been hard all evening, and I wanted his bod in the worst way. Well, not the worst way, but you know what I mean. I really thought we had made progress toward what I think we both wanted. I just hoped he felt as I did that we were finding enough common ground to make some kind of relationship possible.
[To be continued.]