Extracurricular

Chapter 7

"Missed you last night," I texted before heading to school.

I taught through the entire morning hoping to feel a buzz in my pocket. I did not. What was up with that?

It was only half a day. Why was I so neurotic over Trent not texting? I'm sure nothing was wrong. I had lunch shortly. I could just call. Fortunately, I was well prepared for my lessons, so they went smoothly. That kept me focused. When my students did well, it was rewarding. I really did want each one to succeed. During the last ten minutes of my Creative Writing class, I had a few students read a passage of their paper. The assignment was to write about one of the strongest emotions they encountered with the last week. I called on Peter if he'd like to share. His writing spoke of having anxiety. While the passage was centered around the fear of driving and being made fun of if his friends found out, I thought it very symbolic of what Trent was going through. For Peter to admit this to his classmates was a bold step. I made sure to offer some additional praise after class, not only for his writing skills, but for his courage to read that out loud. He seemed appreciative.

In the teacher's lounge, I grabbed some ice and filled my glass. Pouring my Diet Dr. Pepper over the ice, I called Trent while waiting for the foam to go down. I took a sip just as he answered. A hint of Dr. Pepper fizz was in my moustache.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi. I'm glad you picked up. I hadn't heard from you for a while. How's your day?" I asked.

"Okay."

"Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine. Just tired."

"How did last night go?"

"Fine," he answered unemotionally.

"Did you get the set finished?" I asked.

"Oh. Yeah. It's done. The group was really happy with it. We found a way to make it a little lighter. That helped."

"Good."

He didn't offer anything further. Trent didn't seem as playful as usual.

"Can we get together tonight? Do you have practice?" I asked.

"Um. Yeah. Both. I could come over afterward. Will that work?" he answered.

"Sure. How about 7:30?"

"Okay. Hope the rest of your day goes well. I'll see you tonight," he said before abruptly hanging up.

Odd. He didn't seem himself, but then again, I'd only known Trent this way for hardly a week. Everyone was entitled to their moods I supposed. It would have been strange for him to be "over me" just like that, so I felt confident he was preoccupied with something else, or just tired as he had said.

I finished classes but had a faculty meeting this afternoon. Tuesdays. Ugh. For the most part, I liked my fellow workers. I wanted to avoid the idiot who fouled up the schedule. I looked around. Two faculty members knew I was gay. I sat with one of them.

Our conversation started with the whole schedule debacle. She was as peeved as I was. It had thankfully resolved itself, but the whole mess had been unnecessary. Then I offered more. I rarely — actually, never — freely offer any details about my personal life. For some reason, I felt the need to share. Perhaps Peter's courage in my class inspired me.

"I'm seeing someone," I whispered to my coworker.

"Get out! It's about time. You and Ethan called it quits last summer. Give me some details," she directed.

"Younger than me. It's a bit odd, but I'm loving it."

"How'd you meet?" she whispered.

I scribbled the words "former student" on a notepad.

She gasped as she saw the words. Then she shot me a look of disbelief. Then she noticed she had attracted the attention of a few people around us.

She grabbed my pen and wrote down "We WILL talk tomorrow."

I left school a bit giddy after confiding with her. I'm rarely silly with faculty members — probably something I should work on — and it was great to feel she was really interested. And cared. Trent was so concerned about what his friends would think of him when he came out. Was I really any better? It was my choice to keep my life private; it wasn't a decision out of fear. But was my being uncomfortable about opening up really that much different?

I felt like impressing Trent and went shopping again. What impresses a 21-year-old? I decided a shrimp pasta dish would do it. I saw him eat a shrimp off Ali's plate Sunday, so I knew he liked them. I pondered a few exotic ingredients that would pair well with some spices I had in mind.

At 6:45 I started to prepare some of the courses. My phone buzzed.

"Can I shower at your place" was all the message said.

"Of course," I replied.

He arrived 15 minutes later. I heard him drive up and met him at the door before he even got to it.

"Hey babe," I said as he entered.

"Hi," he said as he gave me a quick peck on the lips. "I probably reek. Let me hit the shower."

"That's fine. I'm in the middle of preparing dinner. I sat a fresh towel on the sink for you."

Trent tossed his sports bag on the bed. I could hear him pulling off his clothes.

"Smells good," he said from the bedroom.

I had opened a bottle of wine and was enjoying a glass as I continued on dinner. I heard the shower door close and the water running. As much as I would have liked to just walk in and watch him shower, I had two courses still to wrap up.

I set out placemats, cloth napkins and my nicer china. I smiled at how fancy it looked. I hoped Trent would like it. I put the main dish on simmer and started plating the salad. Placing the salad plates on the table made it look like something catered. Bravo! I smiled to myself.

The shower stopped.

I put my wine glass on the table. I put a candle between the two place settings. I wasn't going to be so cliché' of eating by candlelight, but it just added a special touch. I dimmed the dining room lighting to half level.

As Trent was putting his clothes on, he called from the bedroom. "Wow. That smells really good." "Thanks! We're having dinner in the dining room tonight."

He walked out in jeans and a rumpled T-shirt. His feet were still bare. He walked into the dining room and saw my achievements.

"Ta-da," I said undramatically. "We are starting with a tossed salad of spinach and mixed greens, walnuts, cherry tomatoes and slivered carrots. I made a homemade vinaigrette. Our entrée is a Cajun creamy shrimp pasta and fresh buttered broccoli with a garlic baguette on the side. For dessert I have a lemon blueberry cheesecake with whipped cream."

Trent took it all in. "Wow. You sound like a restaurant menu."

"I wanted us to have a nice night," I said. "I've opened a bottle of wine and had a glass already. Would you like wine or a beer?"

"Uhhh... I don't know. A beer, I guess."

I reappeared in the dining room with a frosted pilsner with a bottle of his favorite beer placed next to it. A wisp of vapor rose from the glass as it was brought into the room having just come from frozen temperatures. He seemed impressed.

"Seriously," he said with a small smile.

I filled my glass again. As we started on the meal, I noticed Trent picked at his salad more than eating it. He kept his head down.

"Did I put something in you don't like?" I asked.

"No, it's fine," he responded. "It's good."

He wasn't himself. Something was wrong. I hated to pry but was somewhat concerned. I continued drinking my wine, but sensed Trent was not in a good place. Usually I'm pretty good about reading my boyfriends' moods, but we were still so new. I didn't want to push too hard but wanted to show I cared at the same time. I drank some wine, but my eyes didn't leave him.

"Are you okay, babe?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice having almost a quiver to it.

I took another bite but watched him. He stopped eating and put his fork down. Even though he was looking down, I could tell his eyes were welling with tears.

"Trent! What's wrong?! Tell me."

"I can't."

He started sobbing. Alarmed, I got up and went around the table to hold him in my arms. He sobbed louder and buried his face into my shirt. I squeezed him tighter. He nuzzled into my chest but didn't hold me. I lifted him up and guided us to the couch.

"You can tell me anything," I said. "I'm always here for you. What's going on."

"I – I – I'm afraid to tell you."

"Don't be silly, hon'. You can tell me anything. I'm here for you."

"Last night, after practice, Lance ..."

He stopped. I waited and stared at Trent hoping for him to confide in me.

"What did he say to you?" I asked.

"It's not so much of what he said. We were the last two in the shower. After last week, we hadn't really showered side by side. We kind of shared our secret, and I think we both knew we should cool it. But the other guys were out of the shower; most had left. He got a hard-on. I didn't want to look..."

"Kind of hard — that dick," I softly interjected.

"I wasn't even fully hard yet, and he reached for my cock."

At those words, a knife went into my chest. I was instantly jealous. But I knew all this was new to Trent. We had only been seeing each other a week. I snapped out of my shock and started listening again.

"Then what?"

"He got me hard. He stuck his head out and told me we were alone. He kneeled down and sucked on it for a minute. I told him we couldn't do that. It wasn't safe there. So, we dried off. After getting dressed, he told me to follow him. He knew of this empty room that was unlocked. We kept the lights off. A tiny bit of light shone through a window. I saw him pull out a small bottle of lube. He asked me to fuck him. I told him no. Then he pulled out his cock and stuck it in my mouth. I sucked him a while. Then he went down on me. I let him suck me off. I – I – I don't know why. After I came, I laid there. All I could think about was you."

Trent started crying uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he sobbed to me.

I held him.

"Stop, stop, stop," I said softly.

"He started jacking off after that with one hand still on my dick. When he finally came..." Trent sobbed. "...half of it landed on my shirt laying there. I was pissed and felt like an idiot wearing it with cum stained on it. I ran back to the gym and tore it off and washed it in the sink. Then I had to go meet my friends with half my shirt wet. I tried to dry it with the hand dryer, but it was still damp. Surely my friends had to notice. I was so embarrassed. I felt like a spotlight was shining on me. I'm such an idiot."

He started crying again. I just held him.

"This is all so new to you, honey."

"Do you want me to go?" he asked.

I held his face and turned him to look at me.

"Of course not. I'm glad you're here."

"We had JUST said before practice that we were glad we wanted to be a couple — and then I fucking do THAT! What kind of asshole am I?? I should have said `no.' I should have ran from him. It just ... felt good ... and ... I'm so sorry, Mike. You deserve someone who isn't an idiot."

He started crying again, every now and then whimpering that he was sorry. He put his arms around me to hold on to me, practically squeezing me. We held each other in silence. I could see the light from the dining room flicker every now and then.

"Okay. Let's forget dinner and go somewhere," I said. "Let me put the food away, and we'll find somewhere to go."

"God!! Now I've fucking ruined dinner!! You went to all this trouble, and I've ruined everything. I should just go."

I grabbed his wrist.

"No. I can put this away no problem, and we will just move away from all this," I said, waving both arms around the candlelight and place settings. "It will package easily."

I slurped down the last of my wine as I put food away in containers. Ten minutes later, we were both in the car. I had given Trent a shirt to wear that wasn't so wrinkled and a little gayer. Trent wasn't saying much. I reached over to hold his hand. He pulled it away and buried his face in both his hands.

"I am sooooo sorry. I can't believe you're not mad," he muttered.

I didn't say anything for a few seconds. I was so concerned about him; I actually didn't know how I really felt about that scenario.

"Trent, I understand. All this is so new to you — you're just figuring out things. You just accepted being gay last week. You've come a long way, and you still have a lot of searching to do," I said. "I'll be honest, it did hurt to hear you tell me..."

"I am sooooo sorry," he said staring at the roof of the car. "I should have told Lance no. All day I hated the idea of telling you, but I – I – I knew I could never keep it to myself."

"But I'm glad you did tell me. We never talked about being exclusive or anything — it's only been a week — but if I'm being honest, I like thinking of us as a couple. I do. Maybe I'm being selfish wanting you for myself. But I do. It's only natural for you to want to ... do ... `things' ... with people your age. I'm older; I understand that is kind of weird for you."

"No. Stop talking like that," he sternly said back to be. "I think you're wonderful. You're awesome. I've been some stupid geeky kid that can't figure out his own stupid life, and I'm the one making stupid mistakes. Don't ever say anything bad about yourself, Mike. You are amazing."

"Wow. That was a lot of complimentary adjectives. You'll give me a big head," I said with a smile. "But I have made mistakes too. Look at what I DID with Lance. He was a stranger. I was out of my mind. Guh. That dick. I'm certainly not one to judge."

"Thank you, Mike," he said, now grabbing my hand.

We pulled up to Daniel's, a gay bar.

Walking in, I looked for a place relatively private in case we had more personal stuff to discuss. A table in the corner worked well. Music was pumping, but we could still hear each other fairly easily.

"One beer and one glass of Chardonnay," I told the server.

Trent took in the server. The tight shirt and skimpy shorts conveyed we were in a gay bar, but there wasn't anything too flamboyant about Daniel's. That why I always liked it. Not too loud. Not too flamey. There were a few more couples in the place and a small group of guys in the opposite corner. The walls were covered with posters and paintings of shirtless men. No real nudity, but pretty close. Rainbow flags were lit in neon over the bar. There were also a couple of equal rights symbols around the room. Nothing that should have been too scary for a newbie. Trent's demeanor was simply quiet; he didn't seem overwhelmed anymore, but at the same time, far from the happy individual I had taken a liking to.

The server brought our drinks.

We managed a little small talk for a few minutes: my faculty meeting, the drama group's set, practice, the song that was playing.

"Of the couples in here, who do you think is the cutest?" I asked. I motioned to our server. "One more for me."

We looked at the other couples and discussed what we found attractive in men. We had several common likes: chest hair, moustaches and beards, big arms. Similar dislikes: tattoos and piercings, man buns. We differed on outlandish hair styles. He could tolerate them easier than me. He was young.

The server brought me my new glass of wine.

"Look at the group in the corner. Who do you think is the cutest?"

"Why do you care who I think is cute?" he asked. "I'm with the best-looking man in the bar."

I gave him a smirky look. We leaned over the table and kissed. That was better. Trent was emerging from his sorrowful funk.

"Mikey!! I haven't seen you in forever," a voice said from behind me. "How've you been, sweetie?"

Trent did not know this man but noticed he rubbed his fingers up my arm like playing a piano while talking to me. Ricky was half Latino but 100 percent gay. That was never ever in question.

"Trent, this is Ricky."

"And this is Detrell," Ricky said introducing his companion.

Detrell was African American with braided hair and killer biceps. They made both a mismatch and adorable couple at the same time. Ricky looked Trent up and down.

"So. How'd you two meet?" he asked.

"We've known each other a few years. We just recently found we have a lot in common and are enjoying being together," I answered, avoiding mentioning he was a former student.

"Well, all right, gents. We'll leave you to it," Ricky said and then strolled to a table for the two of them. "Glad to see you out, sweetie."

"Nice arms," we both whispered at the same time, acknowledging the hotness of Detrell.

I swallowed a big gulp of wine.

"Is there a story there?" Trent asked.

"Noooo..." I trailed off. "Not really. He was a friend of Ethan's and mine, more Ethan than me. I guess Ethan inherited Ricky in the split because I haven't seen him since."

I took another sip. Trent was halfway through his beer when I noticed him fixated on one of the posters.

"See that poster there," he said, pointing to it with his eyes. "It is fairly close to a picture I was looking at on my computer in 10th grade. Just like that one, the guy was tan and shirtless. You didn't see his dick, but you could see the top of his crotch hair. I looked at it often. I got hard to it. One evening my dad walked into the room while I was staring at it. Before I could close the screen, he noticed it and just stared at me. His eyes just drilled right through mine. He told me, `Don't even go down that path, Trent. We won't have that in this house.'"

"Trent!" I said softly, but earnestly and intently. "That's terrible. God, that must have been difficult. I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"Yeah." He sat quiet. "We hardly talked for two weeks. Things were never the same. He'd tell me about pretty girls I should go out with. I was unhappy. Really unhappy. Tenth grade, y'know? I didn't know how to tell if you were gay or not. Was it a phase? How do you find out? I obviously was too shy to talk to anybody at all, even my closest friends. I was miserable."

"Is that the hard time you said I helped you through?"

"Uh huh. I was so depressed. Your class was the highlight of my day. I couldn't wait to get there."

"Why?"

"You were so nice to me. And to be honest, I probably sensed we were alike. I didn't even think about, y'know, the word "gay." I just felt ... different. In retrospect, I probably had a crush on you. But you treated me with so much respect, and you praised my work. I felt safe there. I felt calm. It was the only place I felt calm for a while."

"Gosh, I had no idea. I'm glad I was a help even if I didn't know I was. You were such a good student, and I still remember some of the things you wrote for my class. You are a very talented writer, and you learned the English material really easily," I said, hoping the compliment would continue to lift his spirits.

"Plus, you had a chest that destroyed," Trent smiled.

"Ha!" I laughed a little too loudly. "Like you knew what my chest looked like."

"On some of the days you didn't wear a tie, you would unbutton an extra button. I could see your chest hair. I just wanted to touch it."

Trent thought for a moment and then suddenly looked up at me.

"Did you know I was gay back then?" he suddenly asked.

"No. Kids are just starting to figure things out. I allow them that. Speculating on my part serves no purpose. I try to leave that out of everything. Every individual deserves a personal life. I mean, I wouldn't have thought you couldn't be gay, but I wasn't pegging you as gay back then. It's just not anything I think about."

"I'm sure I never thanked you enough back then. You were such a positive influence for me. I needed you then." Trent smiled at me. "I think I need you now too."

I grabbed his hands. We just looked at each other. We seemed to have found a good place.

"I have an idea. Let's go dancing," I said.

"Now??" he responded in surprise. "I... I don't know if I'm any good. I haven't danced much."

"Just be yourself. We'll just go for a little while. I've got a buzz going; let's have fun."

I slammed the rest of my wine and signaled for the check.

"Let me go to the bathroom first," he said.

Trent headed to the men's room. I took care of the bill. Apparently, Ricky could tell we were heading out. Making his way to the bathroom, he stopped by to make a couple more quips.

"Good to see you're dating again, Mikey. But robbing the cradle much? Is he old enough to shave?"

I had enough alcohol in me to not hold anything back.

"Oh yeah. Not only does he shave, but he can also do lots of things." I leaned toward Ricky's ear, whispering, "He is giving me the wildest sex of my life. And I'm loving it."

Ricky looked momentarily shocked, maybe out of some slight loyalty to Ethan.

"Well. Good for you then."

He passed Trent on his way to the bathroom. I heard him say some pleasantry with questionable sincerity. I rolled my eyes. We headed toward the door. I handed the keys to Trent.

"I have enough of a buzz, I'll let you drive."

I gave directions. A few minutes later, we pulled into Indigo. We entered the club. It was relatively dark, awash in blue uplighting. Trent looked around scoping out the place. He didn't find it too threatening. A dance floor was pretty much empty except for two guys. The bar was long with glasses hanging above the counter. Video monitors flashed footage of scantily-clad men dancing. Tall cocktail tables were positioned along one wall with a cushion for seating along the wall and tall bar stools around the tables. Nothing was too scary.

"It's early for a club, not to mention a Tuesday night. We won't find crowds tonight," I told him.

I walked to the bar. I was tired of wine and ordered a White Russian. That was my old club standby. I got Trent a beer. The bartender gave me a wink as I paid him.

"What is that?" he asked when I returned.

"Never had a White Russian? Yummy! Try."

He tasted it.

"Mmm. That's good."

"They go down like chocolate milk."

I pointed to one of the scattered round cocktail tables. Trent sat on the long bench cushion. I sort of danced in place to the music. Trent loved the techno song playing. I wasn't familiar with it, but he was. He counted maybe 25 people in the place.

"It's not very crowded," he said.

"Tuesdays never are."

He watched the people dancing. He saw many guys around the place hanging on each other. Or kissing. Or hugging.

"I've been terrified to come to a gay club," he said. "It is nice to see a place where you don't have to hide anything."

With that, I gave him a huge kiss. He looked around. No one paid the slightest attention to us. He kissed me back. I was really buzzed so I got a little passionate in our kissing. We held each other in a standing embrace. I started to sway a little with him.

"Want to dance?" I asked.

"Not yet."

He continued to watch the dancing. I sat and he stood in front of me. Both of us watched the dance floor. I held my arms around his stomach. I reached for my drink and took a gulp.

"I'm glad you told me about that situation with your dad. I'm sad you had to deal with that. How are you and he now?"

"The same," he said, not taking his eyes off the dance floor. "We ignored it for a while. I don't talk to him much, mostly Mom," he said over the music. "Until he sees me come home with a girlfriend, I think we will probably be distant."

"Damn."

Trent moved a little more to the music in my arms. I stood, leaning on the seat. He leaned back into me. I unbuttoned one of the middle buttons of his shirt. I slid my hand inside and rubbed his chest. He took a quick glance and realized no one cared what we were doing. He held my other arm pressing it to him. My hand continued to slowly roam inside his shirt.

"Why are you making my dick hard when I can't take it out?" he said loud enough for me to hear over the music.

I freed my other hand and reached down groping the bulge through his jeans. I could feel the outline of every inch in my grip.

"God, I wish I could suck that right now," I said directly into his ear.

"You and me both."

I had finished my drink. Trent had over half his beer left, so I took a drink of it. Then another. The thought of oral sex with him was putting me in a trance.

I went to the bar and got another White Russian and the closed our tab. I flipped him an extra five, winking back.

When I came back, Trent found his way into my embrace again. He backed up to me. My crotch was at his ass. Even with both of us clothed, he had to feel the steel pipe in my jeans. We continued to watch, and I slid my hand back inside his shirt. His chest felt intoxicating. He moved his hips a little; I wasn't sure if it was dancing or grinding his butt into my cock.

My free hand grabbed my drink. I slammed half of it, and then unbuttoned one more on his shirt. I slid my fingers lower. I slipped below the waistband of his boxers and my fingers ran through his bush. My pointer finger and index finger traced along the sides of the top of his erection. I moaned into his ear; he moaned back. I wanted sex badly at that point. When we finished our drinks, it was time to go home and make love. I started to sweat a little.

A few more people had made it to the dance floor. The song changed. Trent whirled in my arms.

"Okay, I'll dance to this!"

We both knew the song. He took a gulp of beer. I followed with another gulp of my second White Russian. I grabbed his hands and led him to the dance floor. We moved to the beat. It didn't take long for Trent to be relaxed and let the music take him. I was totally buzzed and didn't have any inhibitions. More people came to the floor. Trent smiled being part of the crowd. We stayed out for the next song. All the drama earlier in the evening seemed to have dissipated. He was having fun. I kissed him hard. Even in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by people, he seemed okay kissing in public. We danced to a third song and ...

...

—

The alarm went off. I fumbled to turn it off. The sun was shining in through my bedroom window. It was 6:15.