Dennis called me the next day just to chat and I mentioned the evening I'd spent with Art and how the 'gay' discussion had progressed.
"Hmm," Dennis said, "So you told him about you but he told you nothing about himself. Sounds like there's something more going on here to me."
"Oh, Dennis," I countered, "You see a mystery in everyone you meet. I just think the guy's curious about being gay. I know I gave him a new viewpoint to look at it from, anyway."
We made plans to go to a movie that evening and the three of us had a nice time. We stopped for a drink at our local gay watering hole after the movie.
"Dennis tells me you're still educating your guy about being gay, huh?" George asked. I laughed.
"Yeah, the 'Darren school of gay' had another session." They both laughed.
"Just be careful how you go on with that," George said, "We don't want you to get hurt."
"What hurt?" I asked, "The guy's a friend. Just a friend who is curious." We went on to dissecting the movie after that.
Art stopped into my office that week and we had a friendly chat. He suggested dinner at the end of the week and we agreed to meet at his place for drinks on Friday.
He was already showered and changed when I got to his house and we had a drink, sat outside on his patio and chatted about this and that. He thanked me rather profusely for sharing my views on being gay and said it was something that had always puzzled him.
"What about you? What was your life like growing up?" I asked. I figured we'd better get all the cards on the table.
"It was okay," he said quietly. "My folks weren't very well off and they didn't have a lot of education. I was the first kid in my whole family in three generations to finish college and I only did that in night school."
"Were they loving? I mean were they affectionate to you growing up?"
"Not especially. We're not a very demonstrative family. I don't think I was ever kissed by my Dad ever." He went on to explain that his father had passed away a few years earlier after a bout with cancer.
"And, he was always quite homophobic," he went on. "He was always going on about queer guys and fags and all that. We'd be somewhere and he'd always point out the 'sissies' to my brother and me and make jokes about them." I just shook my head.
"You know, there are some who say that the most homophobic guys are often closet gays," I put in. "But more importantly, from your standpoint anyway, is that he instilled the notion in you that being gay was a really bad thing. That's the real problem with someone like that as a parent." He shrugged. It was a moot point and we both knew it.
"Did you ever have anything to do with another guy? I mean when you were a kid or something?" When he spoke next, it was almost in a whisper.
"Well, I had a bit of a gay fling when I was in the Service," he said. "God, that was a long time ago now."
"Tell me about it," I said quietly, "I'm curious." When I'd done my time in the Army, I had played about some when on leave, but I never did anything with anyone else in the service.
"It started just after we finished basic training. I was assigned out to Camp LeJeune, and I met a guy on the flight who seemed really nice. We became buddies and then one time we were on leave and we both got drunk. We ended up in bed together and he sucked my cock."
"I'm sure that's probably happened to a lot of guys in the service," I said. It happened to me, dammit!
"Yeah, well," Art said, "I suppose I should have, but I didn't forget it the next day. Instead, I got curious. We ended up spending all three days together and I tried a lot of things. It was kind of wild."
"You mean it was just that one week-end?" I asked.
"No, that's how it started, and from then on we were buddies and practically inseparable," he went on. "We were stationed together for almost six months, and we went at it every time we got the chance, although it wasn't really that often."
"What happened then?" I asked.
"Well, just like the military, we were reassigned to different units, and he went overseas. We wrote to each other for a while, but eventually that stopped. Then I learned he'd been killed in an accident," he concluded, "And that was that. I never did anything with anybody else."
"There are a lot of cases of buddies getting involved with each other in the service," I said, "It doesn't really mean anything, you know."
"Oh, I know that," Art said, "I've never worried about it, particularly. It was fun while it was going on. After that, I put it behind me and dated girls and then got married when I got out of the service."
He refilled our drinks then and came back outside.
"You know," he said quietly when we were seated again, "Talking about that kinda got me turned on. I haven't thought about that for a long time." He unconsciously dropped his hand to rest on his crotch.
I remained quiet and he was deep in thought for several minutes.
"You remind me of him," Art said finally. "I just realized that."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "You mean because I'm gay?"
"No, no. It's not that. You're just like him in some ways. I knew there was something when I met you that first day," he said quietly. "It was like we were meant to be friends right off."
"I know what you mean," I said, "I think that's nice."
We finished our drinks in silence and went out to dinner.
Part 4
We were just finishing dinner when I felt Art looking at me very hard.
"What's the matter?" I asked, looking at him.
"Nothing really. All of a sudden, I was thinking about going to bed with you," he said, "and I can't believe it. Don't take that the wrong way," he added quickly, and I nodded.
"I'd probably be willing," I said, "But I think you should reconsider. It may just be because you were thinking about that buddy of yours from before."
"Maybe," he murmured.
We finished dinner, split the check, and left the restaurant. He walked with me to my car, and I invited him back to my place for a nightcap.
"No, I'm going home," he said, "I've gotta get up early tomorrow, you know."
"Art," I cautioned, "Don't think too much about that other thing."
"Yeah, I know," he said, "It's okay."
We parted and I drove home, read and watched the TV news before going to bed.
When I saw Art at work the next day, he was bright and cheerful and there was no mention of the night before, except that he repeated that he'd liked the restaurant. For the rest, we talked only about work matters.
Over the next week and a half, we resumed our close working relationship as if that 'gay' discussion hadn't happened, and I was rather relieved.
The next week on Friday, I got a call from Art about six o'clock in the morning. My alarm had just gone off, but I was pretty groggy as I answered the phone.
"Morning buddy," his voice cheerfully said, "I'm your wake up call."
I said thanks sleepily.
"Hey, if you're not busy tonight, why don't you bring some casual clothes to work, and then come over here tonight and we'll have a cook-out. It's gonna be a beautiful day."
"That's great," I said, "I didn't have anything planned. I'll bring my clothes."
"Bring your swimming suit too," he suggested and rang off.
I got my coffee and glanced at the paper while my mind began racing.
"Just what does this mean? Has he decided he wants to? Do I want to? Maybe he's just being friendly." I forced myself to calm down and finished breakfast, showered and got dressed. I selected some casual clothes I like and chose what I thought to be my sexiest bathing suit.
"Well, you answered that one question," I said to myself as I felt some stirring down below. I drove to work eagerly.
I didn't see Art until he came to my office just after lunch.
"God, I've been busy," he said, "We've set a new production record for the week. Did you bring your stuff?"
By way of answer I reached into the bag I'd brought and held up my swimming suit.
"Can you get all of you into that little thing?" he asked, smiling.
"Sure," I said, "But you probably couldn't." He laughed again.
"You ain't seen nothing yet. See you when you get there," he said as he walked out.
The day dragged on slowly but the clock finally reached quitting time. I drove quickly to his apartment. He opened the door almost as soon as I touched the bell.
"Come on in," he said. "How do you like this get up?"
He was dressed in shorts and a golf shirt, but an apron covered his front.
"I'm just getting stuff ready," he said. "You wanna take a shower?" I agreed and headed for the bathroom and showered quickly.
"Are we gonna go to the pool?" I asked. "I'll put on my suit if we are."
"Sure, if you want to," he said, "I'll just dump these into plastic cups," he said, picking up two drinks he'd just finished pouring.
I put on my swimming suit and added a sport shirt that pretty well covered the brief suit, slipped on some sandals and walked back to the kitchen.
"You got anything on besides that shirt?" he asked.
"Sure," I said, lifting the shirt to show him.
"I gotta see that suit on you," he said, and walked toward me. He unbuttoned my shirt slowly and I felt my cock start to grow. When he'd finished with the buttons, he opened my shirt and looked down at my suit.
"Hey, that looks sexy. You really fill that up, buddy," he said "It's a good thing it's elastic."
I wasn't sure where this was going but felt it was going way too fast. I stepped back and buttoned my shirt up again. Art seemed to shrug somewhat and walked into his bedroom. He came back in a few minutes in a trunk-type swimming suit and a tank top.
We went to the pool, swam and lounged in the chairs by the side of the pool. I felt very relaxed after the swim and was enjoying the conversation.
"Let's get another drink and I'll fix dinner," Art said after a while.
Dinner was delicious. He served grilled steaks and corn and a wonderful tomato salad. We shared a very good bottle of wine that I'd brought and sat out on his patio again after dinner. Suddenly, things got a little bit tense.