THIS STORY IS TOTALLY FICTITIOUS. IT CONTAINS DESCRIPTIVE SEX BETWEEN MEN. IF THIS IS OFFENSIVE TO YOU GO ELSE WHERE. IF IT IS ILLEGAL FOR YOU TO BE READING IT YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE TO BEGIN WITH, SO JUST GO AWAY. OTHERWISE, MAY YOU ENJOY IT. JWS
A note to you who read this story: This is a long story covering a couple of decades. The problem presented in the beginning will not be dealt with until near the end, many chapters into the woof and warp of it. I will ravel from the present to the past, back and forth, weaving this tale. It might behoove you to go back and reread previous chapters if you tend to feel that you've lost the thread of the story. I assure you it is there.
FROM OUT OF NOWHERE
By J.W. Smith
Chapter 1
I never expected to hear from John Peyton again in this lifetime. He had told me that he appreciated what I had tried to do, but he was determined and that was the end of discussion, goodbye. I was taken completely off guard when he called,
"Dr. Jordan? Hal? John Peyton."
It took several seconds to connect the name with a face. My thinking apparatus had shut down for the night; it was after all after nine o'clock. I had had a long day. So when I finally got my brain back on line, and my tongue on the same track, I asked, "What's it been? Seventeen years? How are you, John, and why are you calling?
"Hal, I didn't know who else to turn to." He answered.
"You want my help after telling me never to contact you when you left me standing there naked in the sand?" I pulled a shoe and sock off, dropping them on the floor.
"Yes." I heard him whisper and then sob once.
"Alright, what can I do for you, John? Are you still in Florida?" I dropped the other shoe and sock, and stood up to remove my slacks.
"No." He said. I waited for more. It didn't come.
"So where are you now, John?" Holding the phone against my shoulder I unbuckled my belt.
"I'm at the United Airlines Terminal at LAX." I had my pants unbuttoned and my hand on the zipper.
"Oh, You're just passing though? You have a few hours layover and you just want to say 'Hi'?" I unzipped and dropped my pants.
"Hal, I flew here to see you. You're the only decent person I know anymore. I need a bit of decency and integrity in my life right now."
"I don't quite understand." I stood there with them around my ankles.
"Let me tell you in person, Hal. I'll catch a taxi and explain everything when I get to you. Please?" I pulled my pants back up tucking in my shirt; I buttoned and zipped.
"John, a taxi would cost you a small fortune. This is L.A. I live 57 miles from LAX. I'll come pick you up. It'll take me about an hour to get there. We're freeway close."
"I don't want to put you to a lot of trouble."
"You've flown here from Florida to specifically to see me, so don't give me any of your polite southern shit. Find a comfortable place to wait and I'll be there ASAP."
"I'll be waiting on a bench in front of the terminal. Thanks, Hal."
I quickly put my shoes and socks back on, grabbed a jacket and went down stairs to Bob's office. He had his head glued to the computer screen doing some kind of consultation. I walked up behind him, wrapped my arms around him and kissed him on the nape of his neck. He leaned back into me, offering me his lips, as he raised his arms and grasped my head, pulling me down to them.
"Who was on the phone, Babe?" He asked.
"John Peyton." I looked at the time readout at the bottom of the screen. It was nine thirty-six.He sat up and swiveled his chair around.
"Why does that name set off a warning bell in my head?"
"He's the fellow I told you I met right after you got out of the Air Force, remember?"
He raised both eyebrows at me. That meant I better start explaining.
"He's at the airport and he sounds like he needs help badly. Come go with me to get him."
"You're bringing him here?"
"You rather I take him to a motel?"
"Don't be stupid, of course not. I was just taken by surprise."
"So go with me?"
"I can't, Babe, I've got to finish this consultation. I've got three other lawyers on hold here. Go ahead, I'll get the guest room ready while you're gone." Bob stood up and wrapped himself around me and laid a sloppy kiss on my forehead.
"I love you, Hal." He said. He stepped back and looked at me.
"Hey, get that look off your face." I said. "There is no competition. Only you. And you know I love only you. You big lug." I kissed him and bolted out of the door.
I jumped into the Beamy and headed for the 210W. At that late hour the traffic was light. I was making good time. I figured the fastest way to the airport was south on the 605 to 105W, which would drop me right into the loop at the airport.
~
Myrtle Beach AFB, 10:24 a.m., Friday June 10th, 1965. I was a medic working in the men's ward of the hospital. I had just made rounds, helping Lt. Simms, a cute little redheaded nurse from Iowa dispense medications. As I approached the desk with the med cart, Capt. Lannon, the head nurse, called to me.
"Jordan, there is a young man in the waiting room wanting to see you. I didn't get his name."
I put the cart away and hurried to the waiting room to see who was looking for me. As I stepped through the door I stopped dead in my tracks. There sitting on a sofa was one of the most handsome men I had ever laid eyes on. He had pale nearly translucent skin, and straight black hair. It was neatly trimmed and when he looked up at me it hung over his forehead on one side. His eyes, set wide apart, were molten dark chocolate brown. His face was oval, a wide forehead with a long aquiline nose. His lips were on the thin side, but his smile was warm and generous.He wore a long sleeved madras plaid shirt; cuffs buttoned at the wrists, tan chinos and penny loafers, no socks. He looked very east coast collegiate.He stood up as I approached.
"Are you Hal Jordan?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Hi, I am John Peyton." He stuck out his hand to shake mine. I put my hand to his. "Miki insisted that I stop at the Divine Light Foundation and to look you up."
"Miki?" I asked. I'm sure I looked stupefied. I really thought that she was out of my life forever. I was horrified that he might know what had happened between her and me. I don't know why I was. Any straight guy would be proud of such a conquest.
"Yeah, Miki Guillotte."
"You know her?"
"Sure, she was in the theatre club on base. She kind of became the center attraction."
"I'm sure she did." I grinned. "She did the same thing here. After Buddy got transferred. Do you know Buddy, too?"
"He was a close friend until she came over."
"Was?"
"Yeah, was. Hey, can we get together when you get off duty. I'd rather talk about this in private."
"Sure, I get off at three. I live in the barracks, so I need to get changed when I get off. But then I can go where ever."
"Great, I'll see you then."
It was a good thing that the day was busy. We had two post ops and several new admits to get settled in and taken care of. If not for that I think I might have gotten written up for dereliction of duty because my mind was in a whirlwind every time I stopped long enough to think about John and Miki--- and Buddy.
John was standing next to a little European sports car when I exited the hospital. He waved and smiled. We jumped into his little car and he sped me across the base to my barracks. He followed me in and sat on my bunk while I change into my civvies. I always wore Levi 501s and cowboy boots I pulled a pale green Lacrosse Alligator shirt over my head. I caught him checking me out as I pulled my head through the neck of the shirt. I mentally grinned to myself. Here was another closeted member of Miki's entourage, just like I had been.
"So where shall we go, John?" I asked.
It took him a moment to get his mind back where it belonged.
"Aaa--- Mrs. Schwartskaupt has given me a cabin for the week up at the Center. It's totally private. I told her I was coming over to meet you. She wants you and me for lunch one day this week."
"I haven't been to visit her since before Miki left for Germany. How is the old Lady?"
"She's fine I suppose. I only met her briefly yesterday after noon."
"Yeah, it would be nice to have lunch with her again. She certainly can tell some fine stories about here romps through India and the Himalayas."
"So you want to go up there?"
"Sure, why not?"
He drove north through town and into the country north of Myrtle Beach, eventually arriving at a big gilded gateway on the east side of the hiway. It looked like it would be more at home in Shri Lanka than in South Carolina. Some wealthy old widow, whose husband had died making a fortune to leave for her to play with, had donated the center. It was for promulgating the teachings of some Eastern Mystic that she had doted on. Mrs. S., as we had been told to call her, was the caretaker of the place. She was wealthy in her own right, having inherited a fortune from her father.
We drove down the paved road for about three or four hundred feet and turned on to a dirt road that was little more than a wide trail through the tall cypress trees hung with Spanish moss. The Crepe Myrtle was just starting to bloom giving a bright splash of color here and there. I had forgotten how beautiful this place was.
We pulled up to a little three-room cabin built of weathered gray cypress clapboards. The roof was shingled in cypress also; it looked a little newer. There was a covered porch across the front. The over all appearance looked like it could have been there a hundred years.The inside was just as rustic. The bed was high off the floor with a plain high backed headboard with turned posts. A beautiful hand made quilt covered the bed. The rest of the furniture consisted of an ugly Edwardian four-drawer chest, an old pressed-back chair, and a tall nightstand next to the bed on which sat a faux oil lamp with a reversed hand-painted glass shade cover in roses. There were coat hooks on the wall to hang your clothes on.
The sitting room was petite. An uncomfortable Victorian couch and chair, a small spindle-legged table and a cast iron bridge lamp with a ruffled shade filled the room. Hand-crocheted doilies covered the table and the backs of the couch and chair. The bathroom was even smaller. It did have running water and a functional toilet with the tank hung high on the wall with a pull chain. The shower stall was fairly new. Except for the glass door, the whole thing was made of molded fiberglass and resin.
I can still see that place clearly with every detail still intact. It was the perfect place for a tryst with that beautiful gentle man named John.
~
I was approaching the on ramp to the 605. It arced high into the air over the 210. I've lived in Los Angeles for nearly twenty years and my stomach still does flip-flops every time I go over one of the high overpasses. What if there was an earthquake at just that moment. Damn, on this route I had three more high overpasses to traverse. The traffic was light. I pushed down on the pedal and sped over the overpass and down on to the 605 freeway.
~
P.S. Have your read the new rewrite and new chapters I'm adding to "Someone Like You" in Beginnings? Let me hear what you think of it, and of course this new story,too. JWS js.collection@verizon.net