Resurrection
Part One
It was Easter Sunday. I sat with my parents in our church. Our pew was located dead center in the sanctuary. I wished we were on the aisle, so I could have bolted out of that forbidding place, but I was smack dab in the middle, and leaving would have created a scene, especially during the sermon.
My name is Cory Anderson. I grew up in a small town in Central Florida, but these days I live in New York City. I am a stock broker with a major international firm, and I make a very good living. I have a nice apartment in Battery Park Village. That Easter morning I was reminded of all the reasons why I could not wait to get out of my hometown.
The sermon should have been about the resurrection, the expectation of eternal life, for peace on earth, and love for all mankind. Instead Pastor Morrison delivered his expected tirade against homosexuals. They were, in his opinion, an abomination, the destroyer of our youth, the downfall of our country, and last, but not least, the cause of all natural disasters, terrorist attacks, and random school shootings.
My parents loved me. They did not disown me when I came out to them at my college graduation. Even though I was an only child, and they would presumably never have grandchildren, they stood by me. That having been said, their disappointment was evident. They were proud of my accomplishments in the Big Apple, but sitting there, listening to the hate in Pastor Morrison's voice, I stole a quick glance at them. Their eyes were looking at me too, and I could read their thoughts. They seemed to say, See son, you must stop your wanton ways, find a good woman, get married, and have children as God intended. I could barely stand the pain their looks caused me.
After the service, I was enjoying a cup of coffee with my parents in the social hall, when Pastor Morrison approached us. I knew that my folks had never divulged my sexual orientation to the town. They were too ashamed. The `good' pastor, who probably couldn't tell a homosexual from a Halloween pumpkin, approached us, and threw his arms around me. He gave me a substantial hug, and said, "Cory, it is so wonderful to see you. Your folks tell me how well you are doing in your profession. We are all so proud of you."
I guess I had not yet accomplished the destruction of the universe to Morrison's satisfaction.
"I'm going to be in New York at a conference in two weeks," Morrison said. "I insist you save an evening, and have dinner with me. I won't take no for an answer. I'll get your phone number from your parents."
There was no way that I could say no, so I smiled and said, "That will be a pleasure and an honor, sir. Will your wife be with you?"
Everyone grew deadly silent. Finally, my mother said, "Mrs. Morrison passed three months ago, dear. Poor thing; she was only thirty-two. She had breast cancer."
I was very upset at my faux pas, and berated my mother for not telling me.
"You know how I hate to give you bad news," she said. I rolled my eyes, apologized to Pastor Morrison, and offered my condolences.
"To be a widower in your thirties, that's heart breaking," I said, and I meant it.
"That's fine," he said. "You didn't know. I do regret we didn't have any children."
That afternoon, eating my mother's delicious home-made Easter dinner, I knew why I came home every holiday. There is nothing that beats the comfort of home. Conversely, I hated this town, and the torment it caused me every time I came for a visit. I couldn't wait for my father to drive me to the Orlando airport the next afternoon, for my trip back to reality.
On the flight home, I dozed off, and had a dream.
Morrison and I are having dinner at an expensive New York restaurant. He is jovial and witty, and we are having a jolly good time. He tells me how proud my parents are of me. In fact, so are he and the whole town. The only thing that would make it perfect would be for me to marry and have children. At the end of the meal, I ask him if he has ever eaten with a homosexual. He says, good heavens, no. He would gag on his food if he did. I tell him he just did, and he vomits all over the table, as I run out laughing.
I woke up and determined to come out to him during our dinner. (I gave no thought to my parents) I wanted him to choke on his words. Two weeks later, I got a call on my cell phone late Sunday afternoon. My stomach turned as I heard, "Hi Cory, Richard Morrison."
"Pastor Morrison, it's so nice to hear from you."
We passed a few pleasantries---how are you doing, and things like that, and then he said, "Cory, not many people know this, but my wife came from a very wealthy family. She left me very well off. I've never had money in my life before. I was hoping that I could see you professionally, and ask you to handle my affairs. I'll come to your office late in the day, and afterward we could have that dinner I promised you."
I laughed inwardly. This was better than I thought. I'd come out to him after he engaged a fag to handle his money. The thought of it was just too amusing. I was so delighted that I had to get myself together before I could think straight enough to make an appointment for the next afternoon.
When Morrison entered my office, I was very surprised in a good way. He had come directly from the seminar, and he was casually dressed. He always wore a clerical robe for services, and although I had seen him in casual wear when I was a teen-ager, I always pictured him in his robe at the altar, slamming away at me, I mean, at homosexuals. He was in his early thirties, and I had never realized how good looking he was. His brown hair was tousled from the wind, instead of his usual slicked back mode. His grey eyes seemed to sparkle in the sunlight which streamed through my window. He had a small dimple on his right cheek. How had I not noticed that before? Another thing I hadn't noticed. Hidden under his robes, was a tight, muscular body. He must work out, I thought. When I roused myself from the several surprises, I shook his hand and bade him sit.
"How was the first day of the conference?" I asked in an attempt to get things going.
"Like all conferences, it was a little boring. The men couldn't wait for the day to end so they could enjoy some of what New York has to offer. As for me, I was looking forward to our date tonight."
We hardly had a date. Why did he use that terminology? I decided to just let it slide. "Well, I said, let's do a little business first, Pastor."
"Please. Call me Dick."
I nearly burst out laughing. I thought, it'll be a pleasure to call you a dick.
He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a computer print out. "All my assets are in the same bank at home. I brought a listing for you." He handed me the paper, which I glanced over. He had over a million and a half dollars in that bank, all in CD's, and money market accounts. I must have registered surprise, because he said to me, "You can see that it's earning practically nothing for me. Ministers don't make a lot of money. I've got to think about the future and my retirement."
"Absolutely," I agreed. Suddenly I forgot that this was the man I hated most in the world. He became a client. Indeed, he was a client who badly needed my services. "First of all," I continued, "you should be more diversified. I can put you into annuities, secure stocks and bonds, a little bit of growth stocks, some tax frees, and any of those will earn you more than your present investments. Of course, we'll leave a little in checking and money market accounts, should you need quick cash."
"It sounds great to me," Dick said. "Cory, I trust you completely. Please open up an account for me, and I'll send you all the money market accounts immediately after I get home, and I'll send the CD's as they come due. None are for longer than a year."
By the time I completed all the paper work, it was after six, and I was ready to go to dinner with Dick.
"You're in your business suit," he pointed out the obvious. "Would you mind if we stopped at my hotel so I can dress more appropriately. We have reservations at The Four Seasons for 8 PM."
The Four Seasons was way out of my price range. I was excited about going there. "I don't mind at all," I answered sincerely.
When we got to his hotel, I said that I would wait for him in the lobby. "Not on your life," he objected. "I've got some booze in my room. I'll make you a cocktail while you wait." This was a side of Dick, I had never seen before. Worse yet, I was attracted to his good looks. My mind was a flood of confusion, including, should I come out to him or not?
He went to the wet bar in his room, and made me a scotch and soda. When he handed it to me, I asked if he was going to join me. "No thanks, I'll have one at the restaurant," he said.
As soon as he handed me my drink, he started to undress. He stripped to his boxers, and laid out his casual clothes on the bed. Then he put on a dress shirt, a dark blue suit, and ended with a tie. He wore the same socks and shoes he had worn earlier. He did all this in front of me, and facing me. The man I hated was arousing me, and my confusion grew. How could I get aroused in the presence of the world's leading homophobe?
"I gotta pee before we go," he said. "Are you OK?"
"I'm fine," I answered.
He went into the bathroom, and did not close the door. He exposed his cock and started to piddle. I could clearly see that he was uncut, and very well endowed. I started to get aroused again, so I turned away. I swear, if I was with any other male in the world, I would be certain that I was being seduced.
When we got to the restaurant our table wasn't quite ready, so we were asked to go to the bar. Dick had his first drink, and I sorely needed my second one. He kept telling me how lonely he had been since his wife died, and how great it was to be spending the evening with me. I couldn't tolerate how nice he was being, and how much I was beginning to like him outside of his church. I think my brain actually began to spin. I made up my mind not to disappoint him, or be mean to him, and to remain in the closet. It would be easy enough. I only went home for Easter and Christmas.
As I grew more uncomfortable, I remarked that it was taking a very long time to be seated, given that we had reservations.
"I requested a quiet corner table so that we could talk without being overheard. I guess that's what's causing the delay," he explained. I grew even more nervous than I had been. There was something very ominous in what he had just told me.
We were finally seated and we both ordered the same thing, shrimp cocktail, filet mignon steak, medium done, with roast potatoes, and a vegetable, no dessert, and regular coffee.
It was right after our steaks were served, that Dick dropped a bomb on me. He actually put his hand on mine before speaking. I was surprised, but I did not pull away.
"Cory," he began, "when your folks heard that I was coming to New York, and we would be having dinner together, they asked to meet with me privately."
I shuddered at what I knew was coming, but I couldn't help wonder why Dick was being so nice to me. If he already knew I was gay, why did he trust me with his business?
"Please go on," I begged.
"They told me that you were gay. They assured me that they loved you, and would never abandon you. They wanted me to counsel you, and see if I could make you see the light and change you." He smiled. "Their words, not mine."
Somehow I surprised myself by remaining very calm. Dick still had his hand on mine. I discreetly pulled it away.
"How can you counsel me, Dick? What can you say to me that I haven't said to myself a million times? Don't you think that I would rather be straight? Contrary to public opinion, I didn't choose to be gay. I was truly born this way, and I have accepted it."
Having begun my catharsis, I grew bolder. "No matter what you believe, Pastor, I am not a pedophile. I will not corrupt our youth. I have no means to bring down the country, nor would I want to. I love our country. I have no magical powers to start hurricanes or tornadoes, and I don't hobnob with terrorists, so I have no influence over them. I'm just an ole southern boy, living in the big city, trying to make a living, and forgive me for saying so, Dick, but also trying to find love. I wish you could change me. I swear, I really do, but you will fail miserably."
Dick took my hand again. "Good heavens Cory," he said, "I don't want to change you. I want to make love to you."
Part Two
Richard Morrison entered the Baptist Seminary with great expectations. He had been born and raised a Catholic, and from an early age, he believed his calling was the priesthood. By the time he was seventeen, he began to have serious reservations. He realized that celibacy was not going to be easy for him. His libido and his desire to get laid were going to be emotions he would not be able to suppress. He still wanted to serve God, but he wanted to marry as well, so he became a Baptist. It was not a big stretch for him, since he lived in the Bible belt.
At the seminary, he roomed with Ryan Godwin. The two men became close friends as soon as they were introduced to each other. They were both virgins at the age of twenty-two. They often lamented about that in their room at night. Their studies allowed them little free time, but what time they had, they spent together. Ryan had been raised in an orphanage in Washington State, so Richard took him home with him for the Thanksgiving holiday. There, they set up a cot in Richard's room for Ryan to sleep on.
The cot was uncomfortable, and Richard could see that Ryan was tossing and turning. He had a double bed, and would have invited Ryan to sleep with him, but he decided that it would be unseemly, and Ryan might get the wrong idea. He was right about that. Ryan was deeply in love with Richard, and part of the reason he couldn't sleep well on the cot, was the sexual tension building within him.
Ryan went home with Richard for Christmas break, which would last a little over two weeks. Richard couldn't bear to see Ryan squirming all night on the uncomfortable cot, and getting so little sleep. "Look," he said, shortly after they retired on the first night home. "Let's leave the cot in tact, and you sleep with me. There's plenty of room. If the cot is still there nobody will know."
Ryan was both delighted and scared to death. He feared touching Richard inappropriately in his sleep. Richard didn't give it a thought. As far as he was concerned they were friends, and nothing more. In fact, they were very careful not to accidently touch each other during the night, but they both woke up at the same time at 4:30 in the morning.
"I gotta pee," Ryan whispered.
"Me too. The bathroom is just across the hall. Let's go together so we'll make as little noise as possible." They crossed the hall quietly and entered the bath room. They closed the door gently behind them. Richard's mother had wisely left a night light on in the room, and there was no need to put on a brighter one. The two men returned to the bedroom and crawled into bed. Richard fell asleep immediately, but Ryan remained awake until morning.
As light began to creep into the bedroom, Ryan glanced over at Richard. His morning woodie was sticking straight up and out of his boxers. It was at least seven inches long and quite hefty around. He was uncut, and his purple head made Ryan's mouth water. He was sure that Richard was sound asleep, so he got bold, and very thoughtless. He wrapped his hand around Richard's cock and began to stroke gently. Richard began to purr, and Ryan was emboldened to continue.
By this time Richard was wide awake, but he didn't want to stop Ryan. He felt too good, so he pretended to go on sleeping. When Ryan reckoned that Richard was about to blow, he went down on him, and swallowed everything Richard was gushing into him. Without realizing what he was doing, Richard put his hand on the back of Ryan's head, and was pushing his cock harder into Ryan's mouth as he came.
When Ryan came up for air, he saw that Richard's eyes were open. The two men smiled at each other, but Richard said, "That was very nice, Ryan. I really enjoyed it, but please don't ever do that again. I don't want to lose your friendship, or lose you as my room mate, so let's never talk of it again, never."
After breakfast, Richard excused himself, and ran straight away to the catholic church of his boyhood. He went right into the confessional, and confessed to the priest that he had given in to sinful lust, and asked to be forgiven. Then he went home. Ryan was angry at himself for having done what he did to his best friend, and he slept on the cot for the rest of their leave.
On Christmas morning, it was strange for Richard. His parents went to their church, and he and Ryan went to a Baptist church. Richard had never been there before. Even on Christmas morning, when the sermon should have been full of love and joy, the preacher railed against homosexuals and the terrible sin they were committing. The two men squirmed in their seats.
For the first week back at the seminary, the men remained silent about `the incident.' Finally Ryan could bear it no longer. One night he got out of bed and sat on Richard's bed.
"What are you doing?" Richard asked. He was fearful of his own carnal feelings, and the possibility of giving in to Ryan's lust.
"Don't be afraid," Ryan said. "I just want to talk about......., that night."
"I told you that I don't want to talk about it, ever. Please go back to your own bed."
"But it would be best to talk about it and clear the air. Then we can put it behind us."
"OK, maybe you're right," Richard conceded. "What do you want to say? What can you possibly say that would excuse your behavior?"
"I love you," Ryan said as quietly as he could. "I would be happy if we left the seminary, and lived happily ever after---together."
Richard hesitated a long time before answering. "What we did, what you did, Ryan, was a sin. I hope that single lapse in our behavior won't send us straight to hell. Ministry is my calling. I intend to marry and have children. What we did will never happen again, so forget about it. What you are asking of me is out of the question. Tomorrow, I am going to request a change of rooms. I'll just say we can't get along." He turned over and faced the wall. Ryan returned to his bed.
The next morning Ryan said that he didn't feel well, and was going to skip classes. "Go to the infirmary," Richard said as he left the room. He returned to his room at approximately 3:30 PM, and found Ryan's lifeless body hanging from a beam in the center of the room.
Richard was devastated. He blamed Ryan's death on his homosexuality. Little by little his hatred of Ryan's life style, which he believed caused his death, became hatred toward all homosexuals. Richard became the most fire and brimstone preacher ever to stand in a Baptist pulpit. He never once blamed himself for Ryan's death. He didn't see that spurning Ryan's love was the real reason Ryan killed himself.
At night, when he was preparing his scathing sermons, he would think back to that night in his boyhood bedroom, to `the incident' as he referred to it. He began to regret that he hadn't acted further on his gnawing feelings and his growing suspicions about himself. If he had, Ryan would still be alive. He would then cry himself to sleep.
When he married Martha, he was able to forget, and his guilt left him for a little while. His sermons were less about fire, hell and damnation, and became mixed with lessons of love. They were only married five short years, when Martha was diagnosed with the bad news that she had breast cancer, and it had spread to most of her body. Richard believed that God was punishing him for that one night with Ryan. His vitriolic accusations against the gay community became viler than ever. It was his way of asking God to forgive him for his `sin.'
Long before Martha was diagnosed, Richard found himself wanting to be with some of the male members of his congregation. At first it wasn't sexual; it was rather a craving for their friendship. Slowly he came to realize that he was beginning to lust after men, and his sermons became harsher and harsher. A psychologist could tell you that he was condemning himself.
Cory Anderson was a member of Pastor Morrison's Youth Group. Mostly it was Bible study, but the boys played sports after study time, and the girls were instructed in home economics, which sadly, the public schools had discontinued due to budget cuts.
Richard took every opportunity to have one on one time with Cory. His belief system prohibited him from realizing that he was in love with the young man. Unfortunately, Cory knew he was gay from an early age, and Richard's ravings made him hate the one man in the world who loved him more than his parents did. Richard was heart broken when Cory went off to college in the northeast, but he saw him during school breaks and holidays. After Cory began to work in New York, Richard saw precious little of him.
When Cory's parents heard that Pastor Morrison was going to New York and would have dinner with their son, they did the unthinkable. They admitted to their pastor that Cory was gay, and begged him to help them turn him on the path to salvation.
So when Richard had dinner with Cory, and Cory said to him "I wish you could change me. I swear, I really do, but you will fail miserably," it was easy for Richard to say, "Good heavens Cory. I don't want to change you. I want to make love to you."
Part Three
I couldn't believe my ears. Dick was holding my hand in his! I wanted to pull it away, but he was holding it too tightly. "I have loved you ever since I met you," Dick went on.
My confusion was growing by the minute. All I could mutter was, "but, but, but...."
"Let me try to explain," Dick said. "In seminary, my best friend admitted that he loved me. He wanted us to leave the seminary and live together as a couple. I berated him, and totally spurned him." Dick stopped talking. A slight sob escaped his throat. "He killed himself. I blamed homosexuality for his death, and by extension, all homosexuals. The truth is I was responsible for his death, but I didn't realize it until years later."
"That explains why you hate, hated, homosexuals so much. But you aren't gay, and you still haven't explained why you want to make love to me. You were married and presumed straight."
"I failed to tell you that my friend and I had one encounter. He did all the work while I pretended to be asleep. I felt so full of sin I actually made confession in a Catholic church. The guilt I felt was destroying my soul. Over the years, looking at it from a new perspective, I came to realize that I had enjoyed the experience. It was fear made me turn from Ryan, not his love. I realized that I truly loved him. My feelings began to manifest, when I started to have carnal thoughts about men. The one person I desired most was you. It was torture for me, every time we were alone together." Another guttural sound came out of his throat as he tried to suppress a sob.
"I need to apologize to you, Cory."
"For what?"
"For all those hours you suffered listening to me tell you that you were going to hell."
I started to laugh. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't
"What?" Dick wanted to know.
"I used to think, I'm never going to hell, because I never want to see you again."
Dick started to laugh uproariously. When he got control of himself, he reminded me that he wanted to make love to me. "Well, do I have a chance with you? It's all I dream about."
How could I say no? "I live a short cab ride from here. Would you like to see my apartment so you can tell my folks how lovely it is?"
"I'd like that."
"While we are driving there, would you like to tell me about your one encounter with your friend?"
"His name was Ryan. He started to masturbate me when I was sleeping. I woke up soon enough, and I didn't stop him. Afterward, I rejected him totally, and he committed suicide. I can never forgive myself for that, but I can be honest with myself at last. I'm leaving the church, Cory. I've got a job as a social worker in Atlanta. Like you, I thought it would be best to get out of town, so to speak. Now I can be who I am at last."
"You can't blame yourself for his death," I said. "Obviously he was unhinged. People don't kill themselves when they are rejected by someone they love. That's fairy tale fodder."
"I've told myself that many times. Maybe some day I'll believe it."
We entered my apartment. "It is a lovely place, Cory," Dick said. "I'll be sure to tell your parents." He stood looking at me for a few seconds, looking very awkward.
"I have no experience, Cory. Will you show me what to do? I want to make love to you so well, that both of us will remember this night forever."
We not only made love all night, but all the next day as well. I called in sick, and Dick missed the seminar, which didn't much matter anymore. He checked out of his hotel, and stayed with me the rest of the week. I introduced him to every act of male love I could think of; sucking, rimming, fucking, water sports, cock rings, etc. We even stroked our cocks under our arm pits, and between our closed legs. Dick was insatiable. He wanted to know what else I could show him, and by the end of his stay, we had done it all! That week, he had more orgasms than I could count, certainly more than I did.
Dick cried when we parted. He emailed me and called me at least twice a day as he prepared for his move to Atlanta. He was in Atlanta about a year, when his emails and telephone calls began to slow down. Then one day he wrote to tell me that he had met a former catholic priest, who had left his church for the same reason he had. They were compatible in every way, and committed to each other. He said that he now knew the true meaning of the word, resurrection. He wished me the same good fortune, and promised that he and his friend, Leo, would visit if they ever got to New York. I told him I would look forward to that visit. We wrote to each other occasionally, but eventually lost touch. I continued to handle his finances, but the only contact we had was through my firm's monthly statements, and year end tax reports.
Then one day, about five years after our week in Paradise, he called me. "Are you still single?" he asked.
"Unfortunately so," I answered.
"Leo left me for a younger man," he said, sounding very sad.
"I'm sorry," I muttered inanely.
"Don't be. We haven't been getting along. He has a roving eye for twinkies. He said that he had missed that phase of his life when he was a priest, and he wanted to make up for it. Enough of that. I landed a great job with New York Social Services as a supervisor, and I was wondering if I could stay with you, until I get settled.
I hesitated for a very long time before I answered him. I suddenly realized how much I loved Dick. I had covered my feelings for years with a series of one-night stands, and now the love which eluded me wanted to stay in my apartment.
"Are you there?" he asked. "If it's inconvenient, I can make other arrangements."
"No way," I screamed into the phone. "As far as I am concerned, you can stay with me forever."
"I was hoping you would say something like that," he sobbed.
When I picked him up at the airport, we hugged tightly and neither of us would let go of the other. I whispered in Dick's ear. "Thank you, my love. Now I am resurrected also."