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LUSH LIFE
by
Ritch Christopher
Chapter Three
"Alone Together"
"I hadn't anyone till you,
I was a lonely one till you.
I used to lie awake and wonder
If there could be
A someone in the wide world
Just made for me?
Now I see I had to save my love for you.
I never gave my love till you;
And thru my lonely heart demanding it,
Cupid took a hand in it.
I hadn't anyone till you."
"I Hadn't Anyone But You"
Music and Lyrics by
Ray Noble
Copyright 1938
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The taxi carrying Dave and Clay cut across Waverly, then sped northward on 6th Avenue to reach 21st Street in Chelsea, the location of Dave's apartment. The trip, catching nearly all green lights took between five and six minutes. Clay, who had lived in small towns most of his life was not accustomed to New York prices and was stunned when the taxi driver told Dave that the fare was sixteen dollars...plus tip! As a kid, although he never took a trip, knew the price of a Greyhound bus ticket from Miami to Atlanta was less than twenty-five dollars and yet his and Dave's cab ride was only about thirty blocks and it cost Dave twenty bucks? That was highway robbery on the side streets.
Dave held the backseat passenger door for Clay to get out of the vehicle. His apartment was a renovated Brownstone he had rented almost dirt cheap by buying the rent-controlled lease from an elderly lady who was dying and wanted to send the money Dave paid her to her grandchildren in Michigan. What was even more astonishing about the apartment was that it had five large rooms with a huge fireplace in the living room. When Dave bought the lease, he realized that the domicile was probably too large for a single guy but he never gave up hope that some day he might find someone to share it with. Tonight just might be the night.
Nervously, Clay followed Dave up the seven concrete steps to the front stoop landing while Dave searched his pockets for the door key. It was late August, too early for heat, yet too cool for air-conditioning. Dave opted this time of the year to cracking the front windows, which faced the street, and it was pleasantly cooled by nature.
Being single and living alone, Dave was not a good housekeeper. Many items of clothing, books, magazines, and junk mail were scattered on various pieces of furniture. It wasn't that Dave was a slob; he just never invited guests to his flat. Dave was very particular about choosing friends outside of band members and other musicians he knew or had played gigs with.
As for picking up a trick to bring home for a quickie, that was not Dave's style. Meaningless sex was not as gratifying or satisfying as a nightly solo jerk-off where Dave could imagine the man of his dreams without waking the next morning beside a stranger and wondering what he'd ever seen in this one to bring him into his private world, only to say goodbye forever when the stranger left. Tricking?...NO DICE! That's what made his invitation to Clay more mysterious. Why him? Why now? Dave had known or rather seen Clay for less than an hour and yet something special had happened in their meeting... something Dave had never felt before...about ANYONE!
'God, I must be a fool!' Dave thought,' if this isn't right! I mean I feel as if I'm rushing things and putting all my apples in one barrel. If this isn't REALLY the beginning of something special, I might as well never look again. The man I want or the man I hope that Clay is...can't exist if tonight is a flop...a washout!'
If Dave had been clairvoyant, he would have been astonished to learn that Clay's thoughts at the moment were practically identical to his own. For Clay had no idea why this spark of magnetism flared up so suddenly between the two of them. Yet this WAS different! 'God,' Clay thought, 'if Dave could only be the "one"!'
Dave raised the three windows by the window seat about three inches each and a slight early autumn breeze crept into the living room.
Fifteen minutes ago they were clasped in a romantic embrace, kissing in Washington Square. Neither of them knew whether to continue where they had left off or just sit and chat. Dave walked toward Clay, thinking he should offer perhaps another hug or kiss. Instead he found himself saying, "Hey, would you like a drink? or maybe I could put on a pot or coffee...or tea?"
"Do you have any wine?" Clay asked.
"Red or white? Chilled or room temperature? Sweet or dry? Domestic or imported?"
"Jeez, you seem to have everything a person could wish for."
"I'm not a lush if that's what you're thinking," Dave replied.
"That didn't occur to me, I just surmised that since your wine closet was so well stocked, you...you must entertain a lot...have lots of friends who come to visit you...?" Clay said, fishing.
"You got me pegged for another guy. The reason my vineyard runneth over is because no one---and I mean NO ONE---ever comes here to lower my supply. If you would like to take inventory, you might find that every kind of wine I offered you...none of the seals have been broken. Every cork is intact from the winery."
"I didn't mean to pry or insinuate anything abnormal about your visitors..."
"I HAVE no visitors. You may not believe this...probably I wouldn't myself, but you're my first visitor here...ever! And I've lived here over two years."
"Then I should feel honored and flattered," Clay said, honestly. Granted, Dave's confession about having no visitors was a bit difficult to accept. Dave was one of the most handsome, most charming, and yet most masculine specimens Dr. Clay Lawson had ever observed. 'How could this 'perfect' guy try to paint his life as lonely and celibate?'
"You didn't answer my question?"
"Pardon?"
"Wine! Which kind?"
"Oh, white, please, dry, room temperature with two ice cubes, American, please"
"Boy, when you make up your mind, you know exactly what you want."
"I've always known what I wanted. I just don't always know where to go to find it," Clay replied, politely.
"Over on that wall, there is my collection of CD's--why don't you choose one while I pour the wine."
"Is this a pop quiz of my musical knowledge?"
"Could be," Dave said, "let me see if you are as particular about music as you are about your wine."
"The CD's...they're all jazz, I suppose?"
"Mostly."
"Then I accept the challenge," Clay responded, heartily.
Selecting the right artist with the right song was not a challenge for Clay. Although he had no talent for playing an instrument, his afternoon musical sessions with his dad had vastly extended his perception of jazz. Dave's apartment might not have passed a Better Homes and Garden test for neatness, but his CD collection was impeccable and alphabetized row after row, shelves from floor to ceiling.
Clay ran his forefinger across the backs of the CD's beginning with 'A'. When he reached the 'B's, he quickly made his selection, 'Chet Baker/Embraceable You'. Clay's dad had owned this very same recording on vinyl LP. Clay chose it because it contained what he felt was perhaps Chet's best number, "Little Girl Blue" on two cuts...one instrumental and the second with Chet singing.
Clay noticed John's CD player and equipment, turned it on and hit '2' for the stereo to play the second song...the instrumental version. As soon as the first few notes of the intro began, Dave stuck his head out around the kitchen doorway and smiled.
"You didn't select something on the saxophone?" John asked.
"No, I think I discovered my new favorite saxophonist tonight. I thought I go for the sound of a trumpet."
"Would you believe that that is my favorite CD in my collection...and that is my favorite cut?"
"Yes, I'd believe it because it might be mine, too."
"Clay, do you think we're possibly that much alike?"
"I hope so, Dave...believe me, I really hope so. I would gladly have chosen 'The Boy Next Door' by Dave Banks over this one, but 'Banks' should have been next after 'Baker' and I didn't see it."
"That's your favorite song?" Dave asked.
"Since my dad first played it for me on his old hi-fi. Tonight I heard you play the definitive version of it. It's that crazy interval between the third and fourth notes...an unexpected flatted 5th."
"I'm impressed! You know a lot about jazz for a doctor," Dave said, "This might embarrass you...but do you dance?"
"Uh huh..." Clay nodded.
"Want to?"
"Very much."
Dave set the two wine goblets on the coffee table and offered his left hand to Clay.
"Who leads?" Dave asked.
"Both," Clay replied, "Just put both arms around my back and I'll do the same and we'll follow one another's lead."
"Like this?" Dave said, putting his arms around Clay until their bodies were touching chest to chest, hips to hips, and thigh to thigh.
"Exactly," Clay said, placing his own arms around Dave.
Slowly, each dropped his head onto his dance partner's shoulder and each of them became lost with Chet Baker's lonely, wistful trumpet. Clay had hit the random button on Dave's CD player so that neither would be aware of what tune would follow. This made the album new for both. When 'Little Girl Blue' finished, Dave and Clay continued dancing slowly through many more songs on the CD...'Embraceable You', 'How Long Has This Been Going On?', 'Come Rain Or Come Shine', and 'There's A Lull In My Life.' >From time to time, each would raise his head to let his lips touch the other's softly. There was no 'tonguing', just a tender touch of the other's mouth.
Any word one's body language wasn't saying to the other was helped by each new tune Chet played or sang. They were locked in a romantic dream...one that had only existed in nightly fantasies on many lonely nights. But this was real! No fantasy! It was happening here and now! Each was holding a live person in his arms, not a phantom conjured in a masturbatory illusion. Was it--or is it possible to meet someone and fall in love instantly? Did 'love at first sight' really exist? Was what each of them felt love, or a placebo for loneliness and frustration?
They continued to dance and hold each other, moving in time with the music until the songs on the CD began to repeat. How much time had passed? Most CD's play for forty minutes or so. This one had surely played for an hour and yet neither of them wanted to stop. Clay had only two sips of his drink at the Rustic Inn and Dave had had absolutely no booze or dope so they were both feeling and thinking with clear heads, not clouded with induced emotions.
Finally, Dave broke the reverie momentarily by whispering, "Are you ready for your wine and let me take my turn to choose the music?"
"I'd like that," Clay responded as if he were in a trance. He walked over to the couch and sat on the couch, never taking his gaze from Dave as Dave selected an obscure recording, Murray McEachern's, 'Music For Sleepwalkers Only'. As soon as the intro of 'I Only Have Eyes For You' started, Dave turned to look back at his new companion.
"Know this one?" Dave asked.
"Murray McEachern, yeah." Clay replied. "He played trombone for Henry Mancini on "The Glenn Miller Story" soundtrack, recreating the Glenn Miller sound."
"That was your 'final Jeopardy' question and you nailed it! I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. I should've have known that whatever CD I picked, you'd know it too." He sat down, joining Clay on the couch. They sipped wine and Dave slowly took Clay's hand and held it, like pubescent teens on a first date. The gesture was tender, innocent, and lovingly communicative.
The next McEachern cut was, 'Laura', followed by a trombone rendition of 'Little Girl Blue'. The mood, the atmosphere, the music, the setting, the cast of characters made everything perfect. In the back of their minds, they each replayed their meeting in Washington Square, Dave invited Clay to spend the night...and even if they didn't get to the bedroom, this moment of holding hands was enough. Neither of them had strong sex drives and this innocent gesture of tenderness satisfied them both. Could two people fall in love and spend their entire lives without sex?...substituted only with romantic foreplay? For now, it seemed possible. They were contented to sit back, prop their feet on the coffee table and rest their heads on the back of the sofa.
When the song changed to 'My Funny Valentine', Dave turned his head to look at Clay. "How long are you going to be in New York?" The question brought them back to reality. This magic evening couldn't last forever. Clay's home was in Briarwood, along with his important work.
"Three days," Clay said, "I told my boss I'd be back at work on Monday."
"Wow," Dave sighed, then repeated, "three days...three whole days..."
"And nights..." Clay added.
"Yeah, and then what? What was that thing you said in the Square? Something about you could be thinking about moving to New York? Were you serious?"
"I was...but even more so now."
"Moving here...what would that entail?"
"Giving Cole ER two weeks notice...looking for a job here in New York; getting licensed to practice medicine here; finding a place to live."
"I could solve one of those problems. Look at this place! There's plenty of room for two people. I have a spare bedroom, even if we chose not to share one...for a while, at least."
"Dave, I don't know what happened between us this evening. I don't know if you feel as I do, but I think I have a pretty good idea."
"I know...but you're scared...just as I am. Scared that what we're feeling isn't real because it's never happened before...at least, not to me."
"Me, neither...it's just that--well, everything happened so fast."
"I guess it's true when they say you find someone when you least expect to...and if you do, you can't or don't want to accept it. Nothing in my whole life ever happened like this before...nothing that lasted anyway."
"I know..."
"Are...are you willing to take a risk?"
"You mean about finding out if this is real?"
"Yeah."
"And if it's not, I could come out a loser," Clay replied, despondently. "I'd be without a job in a strange city with no place to live."
"Are you a gambler?"
"I never have been...not where my future is concerned."
"Can I ask you a personal question and get an answer from your heart?"
"Sure."
"How...how important is sex to you?"
"Not very. Being close to someone matters more to me. Why? Is that the wrong thing to say?"
"No, it was the perfect reply. You probably won't believe that sex is not high on my list of priorities either."
"That IS a little difficult to believe, what with your looks, your talent, the way I felt when I first saw you at the Rustic Inn."
"Oh, I can't say I don't enjoy sex, but actually, I've had very few partners...none of which resolved into a relationship. I've never had a lover...not even a boyfriend." Dave paused, waiting for Clay to comment. "What about you?"
"We're so much alike...you could probably guess that the history of my romantic involvements is practically the same as yours."
"That shouldn't surprise me, but it does. You...you're a Brad Pitt in the 'looks department'. My God, if I came to you for a medical visit, I'd drop my trou for you to treat a nosebleed," Both laughed."Your work requires you to be 'hands on'. I'm sure you must've been tempted when you've examined other guys' naked bodies." A silent, unspoken question mark hung in the air.
"They're my patients...my job...not potential sex partners. Like you, I've never had a lover. When I was a teenager, I had a next-door neighbor about my age I used to fool around with, but we were never in love. I may be trained in anatomy and proficient in physical examinations, but I'm embarrassed to say I'm very inexperienced in the bedroom."
"As long as we're revealing our secrets, what would you say if I told you I...I'd never had anal sex...not once in my entire life?"
"I'd be forced to confess that we have one MORE thing in common!"
"Are you being serious?" Dave asked, very surprised.
"Yep, my male hymen is intact...the way it was when I came out of my mother's womb."
"Can I ask why?"
"Call me old fashioned...but I even told my dad before he died that I was saving myself for someone 'special'."
"You're kidding?"
"No."
"Your dad knew you were gay?"
"We never talked openly about it, but I'm sure he heard me and the boy next door when we were making out in my bedroom."
"The boy next door, huh?", Dave grinned.
Clay laughed, "Yes, there WAS a boy next door."
"And that's what gives that song special meaning to you?"
"No, Scott, my neighbor, was not 'the boy next door' I dreamed of. I never met him...not until tonight."
"Oh, this is too much...too ironic...too impossible to believe!" Dave looked deeply into Clay's eyes. "You know, since I saw you for the first time tonight, I've been feeling as if I'm wandering in a scene from a fairy tale. The instant I looked into your eyes, I suddenly played my horn better than I've ever played in my life. Your look opened me up inside and I began to talk to you through my horn."
"I heard every note and got every word you said to me."
There was a long silence before either of them could decide what to say next.
Finally, Dave spoke, "Look, it's late. We...we should get some sleep. What would you like to do tomorrow? I'm free until nine tomorrow...or rather later tonight."
"This is my first visit to New York. I WOULD like to see some of the famous sights I've only looked at in pictures."
"We can spend the whole day together...take a tour--or I can take you to the spots that aren't included with a tour guide."
"I'd like that."
"I...I told you I have a spare bedroom. Would you like to sleep there...or would it be...would you...would...?"
"Would I rather sleep with you?"
"Yes, but I don't want to..."
"Take a risk? See what--if anything--happens if we sleep in the same bed?"
"Well, yes...actually."
"Which is YOUR bedroom?"
"The one on the right..."
"Show me."
Dave took Clay's hand and led him into his bedroom slowly.
"Need to go to the bathroom first?"
"Yes."
"You go first. I'll wait."
"OK."
Dave suddenly became concerned how clean his sheets were. Should he take the time to change them? Were there any self-inflicted semen-stained towels by the bedside? There were no used condoms in sight, as Dave had no use for them. He quickly tossed the top sheet off the bed and tried to straighten any wrinkles on the fitted sheet, pulling it tighter on the mattress and tucking it better. Then he flapped the top sheet in the air to spread it neatly, making the bed appear more presentable from the state he had left it earlier. By that time, Clay had relieved himself and returned to the bedroom.
"I can change the sheets if you like...?" Dave said, almost embarrassed.
"No, they are full of your scents and aroma. I want to go to sleep smelling the real you."
"You might not stay very long. You might take one whiff and want to go to the spare bedroom."
Clay laughed. "I said I'd take a risk..."
"Uh...would you like to put on a pair of my pajamas?"
"I haven't worn pajamas since I was twelve. I'm afraid I'd feel overdressed. I've slept in the nude since I passed puberty."
"Me, too. I just bought the pajamas when they were on sale at Macy's. I've never taken them out of the drawer since I put them there. I just thought that I might come home some night in a drunken stupor, fall and hit my head and wind up in a hospital somewhere, and I'd need pajamas to wear."
"Oh, I'm sure the hospital would supply you with a nightshirt."
"The kind that's split wide open down the back...?"
"The very same..."
"Why do hospitals always want to keep your butt naked?"
"It's easier when they place a bedpan beneath you."
"Y'know, I'd never thought of that, but it makes sense."
"So? Are you going to join me and sleep in the nude?" Clay asked.
"Sure, why break an old habit?" Dave replied. "Here, let me get you a hanger to put your clothes on."
"I'm not taking a tour of New York in a suit."
"What about your friends? Should you call them? Would you like to go get fresh clothes first thing this morning?"
"Either that or I could buy some."
"We're both acting like school kids. You and I are built identically...I have loads of clothes that will fit you."
"More 'whiffs' of Dave? You might want to use that name for a title on a CD...'The Musical Whiffs Of Dave Banks'!"
"Well, do you want to undress with or without the lights on?"
"And miss the chance of examining your nude torso? Not a chance!"
"I keep forgetting you're a doctor. I only hope my body will measure up to your young virile male patients. Please don't tell me that your specialty is proctology!"
"It's not, but I do have a wicked, probing finger. I'll give you my report when I get a closer look."
Timidly, they began to remove their clothes. They were on opposite sides of the bed. The music on the CD player had stopped but they stripped piece by piece as if it had been choreographed. Both lingered a moment before they each lowered their boxer shorts. Once they were completely naked, they took time to look at the other's body, trying to memorize each detail...the color of the skin, the body hair, the pulsing pectorals, the smooth svelte waistlines, the narrow hips, the soft patches of pubic hair, and the amazing comparison of their genitalia. Neither of them lacked in that area! Even though their penises were flaccid, they were both well endowed. Below, each had a taut scrotum encompassed by fairly muscular thighs and long legs which disappeared from view, hidden by the mattress.
"Well, doctor, do you see any mysterious lumps or dark patches on my skin?"
"Medically speaking, you're a perfect specimen,"
"I'm can't speak medically about what I see. I can only say what I see is fucking beautiful!" A few moments later, Dave said, "Seen enough? Want me to turn off the lights? Ready to hit the sack?"
"Yes, to all three questions."
Each slid into the bed, both lying on their backs. Once again, Dave reached to hold Clay's hand. Clay responded by squeezing Dave's hand.
"Can I kiss you good night?" Dave asked.
"I won't sleep if you don't," Clay replied.
Slowly, they turned their bodies to face one another. They were close enough for each to feel the heat from the other's torso. Tiny chest hairs touched and tried to intermingle. Their lips met gently for only a few seconds until Dave put his arm around Clay's waist and drew their bodies together tightly. Each of them opened his lips to invite the other's tongue to enter. Tension mounted and the kiss grew more passionate. Their bodies merged and began to sweat. Neither of them seemed embarrassed or reticent as their erections arose and met, almost fighting a furious battle for position. Then, unexpectedly, Dave rolled on top of Clay's body and their hips twisted as if to mesh together.
When the kiss broke, Dave's mouth rested next to Clay's left ear and he whispered, "Oh, God! I think I love you! Damn it! I wanted this to happen. I've waited all my life for this moment! I don't think it...I KNOW it! I love you, Clay!"
"Me, too, Dave! I love you. I knew it! I felt it all night! I thought I was going crazy but I knew you were what I've wanted forever!"
They kissed again and their lower torsos writhed with passion and without a warning and totally oblivious of shame, each reached a climax at the same time. Hot semen was spurting on their stomachs running down both of Clay's hips onto the already soiled sheets and into the mattress.
"Oh, Jesus!" Dave cried out as Clay raised his head to smother Dave's mouth with another kiss. This was the culmination of all their lifelong fantasies. Neither of them took time to wonder where this moment would lead. Neither gave a thought about Clay going back to Briarwood on Sunday. There was only here and now...all dreams of the past had vanished and no one wanted to consider the future.
They fell asleep locked in each other's arms. The night was perfect!
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When Clay awoke the next morning in Dave's bed. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings straight on where he was and what had happened there a few hours earlier. He was alone, but only for a couple of minutes because Dave opened the door to his bedroom carrying a huge bed tray with breakfast-in-bed for two, complete with a single daisy in a tall vase and a copy of the New York Times tucked on the side.
"Good morning," Dave sang, cheerfully.
"Morning," Clay replied, stretching and yawning as convincingly as he could.
"Sleep well?"
"Like a Florida alligator in the sunshine!"
Dave set the tray on the bed and leaned over to peck Clay on the lips.
"Oh, dear God, no! Morning breath!"
"I didn't try to French kiss you..besides, I've already shaved, showered, brushed my teeth, and made breakfast." He was semi-dressed only wearing a pair of blue jeans, without shoes and socks.
"Jeez! What time did you get up...and where for Christ's sake did you get the daisy?"
"From my window sill in the kitchen. I love autumn and I have a long narrow flower box where I grow late summer daisies and early fall asters."
"My mom would love you. She landscapes lawns in Florida with all kinds of tropical plants and flowers. She doesn't have to work but she'd die without having plants to tend to."
"So? I have something else in common with your mother."
"Something else? What else?"
"We both love her son!"
"You still have that feeling? I mean after...I mean the night after we...hell, you know what I'm trying to say..."
"You mean you want to know if I can love you in the morning daylight as I did in the wee small hours in the dark?"
"Well, yeah, something like that!"
"Before I answer, give me a hint on how you feel in the daylight?"
"I...I don't take back a word I said and I don't regret anything that happened between us."
"Then I guess it's safe to say it--I love you."
"I love you, too, Dave. Really!"
"Have a sip of orange juice and give me a real kiss! I love the flavor of citrus, especially if it comes from your mouth!"
Clay drank his whole glass of orange juice without taking it from his lips. He wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin he found on the tray and looked longingly at Dave.
"Come here, you..." Dave said as he kissed Clay deeply for a long time.
Clay looked at Dave's face close up and said, "I almost got out of bed and left after I thought you had fallen to sleep."
"Why, for God's sake?"
"I was afraid. Afraid that I would wake up and find out the whole night was a joke or a whimsy...a set of emotions that got carried away... emotions we might both regret when we awoke. Then, when I DID awaken and you weren't here, I was terrified. I knew you couldn't face me and I couldn't face you."
"Neither of us has ever known real love, have we? You see, it CAN last after a night of passion. People in love CAN feel the same the next day."
"God, am I glad I was wrong!" Clay sighed.
"Scoot over, Dr. Lawson, and let's have breakfast."
Clay pulled the top sheet up to his waist and let Dave place the tray over his thighs. Then Dave walked to the other side of the bed and got in, jeans and all."
Dave had never made breakfast for anyone besides himself and went overboard with the amount of food he cooked. He practically cleaned out his refrigerator of scrambled eggs, oatmeal, orange juice, ham, sausage, AND bacon, plus two stacks of pancakes with hot melted butter and syrup. The coffee was still percolating in the kitchen with a package of sweet rolls, which he had baked.
"Jesus!" Clay exclaimed, "Do you always eat this heartily at breakfast?
"Fuck! I don't ever eat breakfast. I skip it!"
"Then, why...?"
"Because I wanted to try my hand at domesticity. I've never had a reason before."
"Well, Martha, you done great!"
"Eat up! We have places to go...things to see!"
"But..."
"Don't worry about clothes, I got you a pair of new jeans out of my closet, I figure we won't need more than a pullover sweater. You can have your choice of red, blue, yellow, or brown."
"Shoes?"
"I think a pair of ten and a half Nike's will do the trick!"
"Damn! You've thought of everything!"
"Clay, I've waited for you so long, I want everything to be perfect for us from now on...just as it was in this bed earlier."
"It does seem perfect, doesn't it?" Clay said, sincerely, then added, "but I DO have to go back to Briarwood."
"For TWO WEEKS! Then you can come back and we can live happily ever after!"
"If it were only that simple!"
"Why can't it be?"
"My job, my work, my studies...all the things I spoke about last night...finding a NEW job, applying for a New York license..."
"I'll bet your boss at Cole can pull a few strings and get your license in a jiff!"
"He might get angry--you know, my leaving on such short notice and he might fire me without a reference!"
"I doubt it! If he cares one-tenth as much about you as I do, he'll write a book about you!"
"Your words...I can't believe what I'm hearing. No one has ever said things like that to me...EVER!"
"You just wouldn't give anyone a chance. And I'm damn glad! If you had...it would've been the greatest loss in my life...But listen! We'll talk about this tomorrow or the next day. As soon as you're ready, I'm going to show you my NEW YORK! Better yet, I want New York to see YOU!"
They hurried through the meal, only swallowing about every third bite and Dave said, "You go shower while I pour us coffee...unless you need someone to wash your back..."
"I can manage, thank you. Besides we might start something... something we can't stop and I won't see any of New York for the rest of the day."
"We can do that all day tomorrow. Oh, by the way, the phone is by the sofa in the living room if you want to call your two friends."
"I guess I should. They may have called the police and had a 'bolo' broadcast all over Manhattan."
Clay threw off the top sheet once Dave removed the tray and he walked out the room stark naked, unashamed, as he had always felt confident about his anatomy. Dave gave him a wolf whistle, which made Clay jiggle his ass in response. He reached for his wallet in his pants to get Tom and Rachel's phone number...well, it was late morning...he would have to call Tom at work.
"Hello?" Tom said,
"Tom?"
"Clay? Where the fuck are you? Are you okay?"
"I'm great...absolutely great!"
"Hearing the way you said that, I can only assume you got laid!... FINALLY! You know, I never saw you with a girl the entire time we went to school together at Vandy. I'd really like to meet her and see what took you so long!"
"I...uh...well, you almost met her last night?"
"Someone you met at the Rustic Inn? That's fantastic! Where was she? I didn't see any single girls at the bar...and she must've been some hot chick to turn YOUR head!"
"It...it was a hot date all right!"
"God, Clay, I'm so glad for you! I can't wait to tell Rachel! How about tonight? Do you think the four of us could go out for dinner...or..? or was it a one-night stand?"
"I hope not, Tom...I really hope not!"
"Man, you sound like the love bug flew down and took a bite out of your dick!"
"You might say that..." Clay said, almost laughing out loud.
"I can't wait to meet her!"
"I'll talk it over with 'her' and call you later about dinner plans. Right now, I'm off for a full day of sight-seeing."
"Have fun, buddy! I'm thrilled for you."
"Tom, could I ask you a favor on the Q.T.?"
"I'd walk through fire for you! What is it?"
"Today, if you have time, would you try to think of any place which might hire a physician from Briarwood...one whose specialty is Hodgkin's?"
"You wanna MOVE here? Clay, I have dozens of contacts all over the city...and Rachel, you know she specialized in Hodgkin's at Vanderbilt, and between the two of us...you won't have to worry about finding a job. Leave that to us!"
"Thanks, Tom"
"Jesus! I can't believe my ears...YOU...in NEW YORK...with a new girlfriend! Buddy, you've made my day!"
"I'll call you later, Tom."
"I'll be waiting."
Clay hung up the phone and went to the bathroom to shower. Tom, just like Dave, had made everything sound so easy...only Tom didn't know that Dave was not a 'she'!
Clay showered, shaved, dressed himself in Dave's clothes, and gulped down a cup of coffee with Dave. Then they were off! Dave lived only ten or so short blocks south and three or four long blocks west of the Empire State Building...their first stop. The majestic building lived up to all the pictures Clay had seen of it. In the elevator going to the top, Dave, once again, reached to hold Clay's hand. The touch sent the same tingle up Clay's spine. This was New York and people didn't stare when two men showed affection. This was strange to Clay. It was strange to Dave for a different reason--because he had never done it before and it felt so natural!
Leaving the Empire State Building, they walked north, pausing at the spot that used to house the Metropolitan Opera House, then on to Times Square. Clay was amazed that the flashing neon lights of Broadway and Seventh Avenue were turned on
fully during the day, the same as at night. They spent the next five hours jaunting from place to place...tourist attraction to tourist attraction, taking in St. Patrick's Cathedral, Shubert Alley, moving northward through the city, stopping in front of Carnegie Hall which Stephen Sondheim referred to as the Grand Old Cathedral, Lincoln Center, the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, Rockefeller Center, the Avenue of the Americas, the diamond district, a subway ride to Wall Street, the Statue of Liberty which they didn't visit but observed from a ferry. They stopped in Chinatown for egg rolls, then took a cab to back to Rockefeller Center to watch the stage show at Radio City Music Hall. How much Clay really saw remained a question--his eyes and his mind and heart were filled with Dave.
Clay did fall in love with New York, almost as quickly as he had fallen for Dave. The noise and traffic didn't bother him after fifteen minutes of getting used to it. The city was alive!...HE was alive!...DAVE was alive! They were in love and that's all that mattered to either of them.
By four o'clock, Clay still hadn't informed Dave of the proposed dinner that evening with Tom and Rachel, nor had he bothered to tell Dave of his and Tom's conversation about spending the night with a 'date' who had a non-descriptive gender. These items had worried Clay all day in spite of the wonderful tour of the big city. Clay had been friends with his former schoolmates for nearly eight years and not once had he hinted about his homosexuality. Disclosing this kind of secret after such a long friendship was deceptive and its own way a slight betrayal. Not that Tom or Rachel were anti-gay or politically conservative, it was just that revealing his secret so late might put a glitch in their helping him to find a job in New York.
He decided it best to call Tom and cancel the dinner plans...best for all concerned, at least for the moment! Clay asked Dave if they might duck into a hotel and let him use a pay phone to call Tom. The Manhattan Marriott was close by, so Clay made his call...and as he feared, Tom wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Tom and Rachel's curiosity about Clay's girlfriend was just too much for either of them to pass up.
Clay lied to Tom, saying that his 'date' had to work that evening and, if they were free, he'd meet them around ten for drinks at the Rustic Inn. Perhaps his 'date' would join them there. So Tom agreed, to Clay's relief. Maybe he would think of a way to........
Now Clay had to tell Dave about the whole ordeal...and about his lies to Tom and the identity of his 'date's' sex. Dave roared with laughter when Clay told him the bulk of his and Tom's two conversations...although he didn't tell Dave about asking Tom to look for a job.
At 5:00 PM, a slight dusk was falling across the city...shadows of huge skyscrapers were converging to make way for the lights of Broadway. Dave hailed a taxi and said there was one more sight he wanted Clay to see.
Ten minutes later, the taxi let them out at Columbus Circle, the entrance to Central Park. The leaves were just beginning to turn yellow in late August. The late afternoon air had the same early chill that Dave had felt the night before in Washington Square.
"What's this? Where are we?" Clay asked.
"Did you ever see a Disney movie called, "Song of the South" about Br'er Rabbit, Br'er Fox, and Br'er Bear?"
"Yeah, the one about Uncle Remus!"
"Then you might recall the segment where Br'er Rabbit tricks Br'er Bear about finding a 'happy place'?"
"I remember."
"This is Central Park...MY happy place. I wanted you to see it late in the afternoon, just before the sun goes down. That's the quietest and most beautiful time to see it. A couple of years ago, when I was looking for a gig, I'd come here and bring my ax, sit on a park bench and improvise. Hell, sometimes when I left my case open, people would drop change or dollar bills in it. I wasn't broke or needed their money, but they got to hear me play for free, so I'd take their tips and go buy supper with it."
"I don't know how much you made, but they got off cheap I'm sure. Do you have any idea how talented you are? I mean, you're better than anybody on Dad's old jazz collection."
"I do my own thing and if people like it, that's great. If they don't, so what?"
"Why haven't you cut a CD?"
"People who buy jazz now only want remastered CD's of the old classics and artists. Only a few like Kenny G. and Dave Sanborn make it to the top."
"Do you know that guy Dave Koz?"
"Not personally, but I've heard his music. He plays a modern sound, more commercial than mine."
"I don't know if it's true or not, but I read an interview recently and he admitted being gay."
"You mean the article in 'The Advocate'? You can't always believe what you read...still he's a good-looking guy for a sax player."
"I've got the best looking sax player in the world."
"Looks don't sell music."
"Then how do you explain Justin Timberlake with all his platinum albums? He sure as hell can't sing."
"He's a teen idol. He doesn't have to sing. All he has to do is wear a shirt opened down to his waist, put on a pair of pants to show off his package, wiggle his butt and his recording goes to number one on Billboard."
"I guess the same goes for Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears. Jesus! They're both lousy. Neither of them could carry a tune in a wheelbarrow!"
"Maybe not, but they know how to sell their tits and asses to the masses. God, did you hear that? I'm a poet !!" They smiled at each other as their shoulders touched.
They strolled about ten city blocks into Central Park, then sat on a bench to watch sunset. The park was practically empty, as everyone had gone home to prepare dinner or to get ready for an evening on the town.
"What would you like for supper?" Dave asked.
"You, on a great big platter, like they serve seafood in Florida."
"WITH or WITHOUT my special 'tartar' sauce."
"WITH...freshly made, of course," he quipped.
"With help, I might be able to whip up a batch."
"I'd love to watch."
"Watch, Hell! You better help me whip it!"
"I'd like that, too."
The sun was setting. The wind in the trees began to pick up, bringing a bit of a chill.
"You're right, Dave. This place IS beautiful. I love it."
"Central Park is a great place for lovers. I used to watch them stroll arm-in-arm as I played. I...I never had a lover to stroll with. Does that make me a voyeur?"
"I'm here, Dave. I'll stroll with you."
"Just having you here, sitting beside me, is enough. This has been a happy day for me, What about you? Did you see enough of the city for one day?"
"Yes, but I'd like to hit a few museums tomorrow, first thing. I had a wonderful time. I could've had a wonderful time if we'd gone nowhere. This is still unreal...you...me...us!"
"I know."
They sat on the bench until it was dark...that's when Dave reached to hold Clay's hand.
"Come on, let's get a cab and go home. We can eat and chat in the Village until nine o'clock when I have to be at work. The combo plays until two AM tonight."
"Fantastic, I'll have four hours to listen to you play and ogle at you."
"Every note I play will be dedicated to you."
"Thanks," he whispered.
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They showered separately at Dave's apartment and Dave got ready to go to work. There was a small restaurant on Bleeker Street, "The Last Leaf", named after the O. Henry short story, where they had an intimate dinner and talked quietly until it was time for Dave to head to the Rustic Inn. When they arrived, Clay nodded to the bartender and seated himself at a table for one on the right hand side of the bandstand.
Out of force of habit, Dave, Rick, Leo, and Ray usually arrived in the back room at approximately the same time every night. Rick slipped out to the piano and struck a "b-flat" which resounded all the way back to Dave who used the note to tune his sax. Ray tuned his bass from Dave's low "F" which was really a "G" on his instrument and that's the way they tuned up every night. Dave and Rick discussed the order of tunes for the first set.
At 8:50PM, ten minutes before the combo was to start playing, Jay, the owner of the Inn, came back with three men: two of them were dressed in dark suits and the third in a policeman's uniform.
"Guys," Jay addressed his band members, "these guys are from the narc squad and from time to time they come by to check musicians around the district to make sure they're clean. They're just doing what the city makes them do and I know none of you have anything to worry about. So I'd appreciate your cooperation and let them see what they want to see and answer any of their questions and they can go and make their arrests some place else."
The plainclothesman in the blue suit spoke up, "Gentlemen, I'm Detective Ryson and the first thing I'd like to see are the cases you carry your instruments in. I guess that leaves out the piano player as he doesn't carry his own piano around...or at least I hope not."
Leo had already unzipped the nylon and vinyl covers for his drums and tossed them at the detective's feet in a pile to be inspected. The other detective and the uniformed policeman picked up the six zippered bags and turned them wrong side out, finding nothing. Ray followed Leo's lead and tossed his bass case on top of Leo's cases. Again, the search proved to be futile, as Ray's case was empty too.
"Now, you!" Detective Ryson said to Dave.
Dave had four suitcases housing his soprano, alto, and tenor saxophones, plus a smaller one for his clarinet. The clarinet, soprano, and alto cases were clean, however when the tenor case was opened, they removed the sax and looked at the pop up compartment where Dave kept his spare reeds. Inside were two small plastic transparent pouches containing white powder. The other detective opened one, wet his finger and tasted the powdered substance.
"It's coke, all right!" he said to Detective Ryson.
"What's your name?" Ryson asked Dave.
"Dave...Dave Banks."
"Mr. Banks, you're under arrest---possession of an illegal substance. Will you please put your hands behind your back while I read you your rights?"
"Detective," Dave said, "I'll admit it's coke, but it's been in my sax case untouched for over two years."
"You can explain that when you're arraigned."
"You have the right to remain silent..." Ryson read the Miranda to Dave as the officer handcuffed Dave.
"Do you understand these rights?"
"Yes."
"Then you'll please come with us?"
"Detective?" Jay stopped them. "Uh, could you please take Dave out the back door? It might look bad for business if my customers see him like that."
"I understand."
The three members of the drug squad followed Jay to the back door and left with Dave in an unmarked police car.
Rick, Leo, and Ray stood there looking stunned. They knew Dave and, most important, they knew he was not a 'user'.
"My God," exclaimed Leo. "What the fuck happened? What are we gonna do?"
"Looks like we're gonna play a trio gig tonight," replied Rick, "we can all go down to the station after the job and see what we can do about posting bail."
It was nine o'clock on the dot and Ray, Leo, and Rick took their places on the small stage. Rick played an intro and went into a rousing rendition of "The Lady Is A Tramp".
Clay was puzzled. He'd never heard the group play a complete set. He wondered if it was one of their procedures to start the gig as a trio and Dave would join them like the main star a number or two later.
When the trio finished their fourth number, Clay was no longer puzzled, he became alarmed and concerned. 'Where the fuck was Dave?'. Clay looked toward the bartender whom had been so cooperative the night before, telling Clay where to find Dave. The bartender was leaning over the bar and talking with Jay, his boss and the owner. The bartender had a look of shock on his face. Clay got up from his table and went over to the bar to join them.
"Hey," Clay called to the bartender, "Where's Dave? What's going on? Has something happened to him?"
"Are you a friend of Dave's?" Jay asked.
"Yeah...he's my...my BEST friend."
"Then I think you should go to the local police precinct and see what you can do to help him."
"Help him how?"
"Dave, your best friend, was just busted for possession of narcotics. He's been arrested."
"Jesus Christ!" Clay exclaimed. "He's no user!"
"I know that, but the police found a couple of grams hidden in his sax case. He might be in a lot of trouble."
"Thanks! Clay replied. "How do I get to the precinct?"
"Just catch a cab outside and the driver will know where to take you."
Clay rushed outside, panicking, as he flagged down the first taxi he saw. Clay told the driver where he had to go and the cab sped off.
'Goddammit to mother-fucking hell!' Clay said to himself. 'This can't be happening...NOT NOW!"
The perfect day had come to an imperfect end.
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(To be continued in "Lush Life-4)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: To my regular readers, you didn't think I could write three chapters without a conflict or my usual cliffhanger, did you? R.C.