Copyright 2006 by AMc. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author retains all rights to this work and you may not copy or transmit it in any way except in it's entirety and with this disclaimer.
This Old Bar
Chapter 2
"I'm sorry I dumped that on you." Sam buttoned his shirt as he walked into the kitchen. Joe was busy making breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon.
"Not a problem. " He shrugged. He divided the eggs and handed Sam his serving still holding onto the plate.
"Are you all right with it?" Joe asked concern etched in his face. He nodded vigorously.
"Then that's all that matters." Joe ended the discussion. He directed Sam to the flatware, glasses and place mats which he set on the counter while Joe puttered with coffee. They sat next to each other and talked about nothing as they ate.
While Joe cleaned up after the meal, Sam explored the apartment. It was pretty generic with white walls, wood floors and dull but functional furniture. A pile of laundry covered a stuffed chair. There was a large table against one wall used as a work desk, spilling over with books, papers and a computer that needed updating. The only personal touch was a couple of photos on the wall opposite the windows.
One showed a funky old tavern with a sign "Gigli" over the entrance. Another was a family lined up in a backyard. Sam asked about the portrait and Joe identified dad, mom- also very attractive- and his three sisters. Joe appeared to be about twelve; smiling clownishly at the camera with his father's arm around his shoulder. Next to that was a photo of a taller, teenage Joe standing stiffly beside his somber faced father.
"Joe Senior and still a bastard." Joe remarked bluntly. Sam gave him a questioning glance.
"We don't get along. He's old world Italian where real men don't suck dick." he answered with venom. Joe seemed disinterested in the collection, calling them ghost from his past. Sam thought that curious considering the care he took to have them professionally matted and framed. A picture of a baseball team caught his eye.
"Hey is that you?" Sam pointed to a familiar face in the first row.
"That's me left fielder and pitcher." he said in a flat voice.
"Did you ever play in the majors?" Sam asked excitedly.
"Only minor league, I was ok until my arm gave out." he rubbed his right upper arm absently.
"Want to go to Washington Park? It's supposed to be warm today." Joe asked, changing the subject. Sam was about to agree when he suddenly remembered all the work he didn't get done last night and looked at his watch with alarm.
"Actually I need to get home. Sorry." he said and Joe looked momentarily disappointed.
"Come to my place tomorrow and we'll figure out something to do." he suggested. He really wanted to see Joe again and they agreed on a time to meet. With a hug and kiss goodbye, Sam was gone leaving Joe standing alone in the middle of the room wondering what to do.
He decided to clean the apartment, something he wished he had done BEFORE Sam came. It was a typical bachelor mess. Cleaning helped dissipate his nervous energy.
Was Sam really interested in him? he wondered, his exit was rather abrupt. The sex was thrilling but he worried he otherwise came off as slovenly with the mess and cynical in light of his harsh commentary about the pictures. He glared at them with new anger. He really should get rid of the damn things. All they did was cause him grief but there was a part of him that held onto them as a warning, so they stayed.
He did the laundry and changed the bedding when he suddenly realized he didn't know Sam's phone number or where he lived. He debated calling Dave to get the information but was reluctant to get into the subject of Sam with his inquisitive friend. He slapped his forehead when he remembered the resume Sam gave him. Rummaging around the desk became a prolonged search but he eventually found it.
The relief he felt made him realize how bad he had it for Sam. He hadn't desired anyone like this since. . . well never. What did a young kid like him see in a paunchy, balding guy like him? That thought intruded on him as he continued reorganizing the desk. No sooner did he finish when Sam called.
" I can't wait until tomorrow to see you and I was wondering if you had dinner yet?" he tried to sound casual but it came out in a nervous rush.
"I was just debating whether to stay home or go out." Joe lied, he planned on leftovers.
"Great, I'll make you dinner and thank you properly for last night." Sam didn't need to thank him but Joe said nothing. He agreed and hurried out the door as soon as he hung up.
Sam lived on the other side of the Willamette River which bisected the city. It was an old neighborhood, quiet and tree lined. Joe smoothed his his new jeans, red polo shirt and hair in that order before walking up to the tiny house set back behind a large mission style house. He adjusted himself and shifted the bottle of wine in his hands to knock on the door. It was opened almost immediately and Sam greeted him warmly.
He wore baggy shorts and a PSU jersey. The house was a studio apartment with a small kitchen, bath and one large room. A dining table was tucked next to a diminutive refrigerator and there a double bed in the far corner. The place was lit with a dozen or so candles set in dishes of water on shelves and tables. Joe was amazed at how perfect it looked- like a layout in a magazine with tasteful prints on the wall, simple but elegant furniture and soothing colors. It increased his embarrassment about the shabbiness of his own place.
"I thought we'd dine Italian tonight." Sam said indicating the table with a red checkered cloth and a candle. The dinner was lasagna- store bought, a salad, and the bottle of chianti Joe brought. He found the attempt at Italian cuisine amusing but sincere. The meal was enjoyable as Sam rubbed a bare foot on Joe's leg in a very deliberate imitation of their previous brush and he twitched in anticipation.
After dinner, Sam heightened the pleasure by leading Joe to the bed where he undressed him then performed a slow striptease. He could feel Joe's eyes on him as he revealed a smooth, slightly muscular body. Joe watched him with desire as Sam slipped into the bed, snuggling next to him.
He cradled Joe's head as he kissed him deeply, letting his mouth linger while he took hold of Joe's rigid cock with his other hand, massaging it. Joe had held it hundreds of times but it always felt unreal with someone else's hand on it. Sam proceeded down his neck, then to his sensitive nipples which he licked and bit. Joe gasped, arching his back with a jerk at the touch. Joe now stood at a attention, throbbing to his heart beat. Sam went down on him, sucking on him like a straw in a milk shake. Joe's breathing came in short gasps as he rose to a climax waiting to feel a hot load on his stomach. Instead he looked down to Sam still milking him. They lay in each other's arm surrounded by candle light as they recovered their energy. Sam put his head close to Joe and it felt so right to both of them.
For the first time in a long time, Joe felt safe and happy. Here he was in a beautiful place with a handsome man who found him attractive. Joe was content and didn't want to ruin this, not this time. He let out a deep audible sigh.
"What are you thinking?" Sam asked quietly as he played with Joe's chest hair.
"How wonderful you are, how sweet it is being here." it was a glib answer but Joe was too lost in thought to articulate his feelings.
"I was thinking about what turns you on." Sam admitted with a sly smile.
"Isn't it obvious?" Joe asked looking pointedly at Sam whose face wrinkled in delight at the compliment. They went back to their silent, internal ruminations. Sam was so still Joe thought he had fallen asleep.
"When did you know you were gay?" Sam asked and Joe was taken aback by the non-sequiter. He squirmed momentarily, it was not an easy topic for him. He automatically considered the question suspicious but then decided Sam was just being curious.
"When I was sixteen, I preferred to hang out with the good looking guys on the baseball team then be with a girl, I figured something was odd about that, so did my mom. I ended up telling Dad when I left for college." Joe laughed sadly, it was such an unpleasant memory. Sam turned his head to look at Joe with an expression that invited Joe to continue.
"He didn't take it well. All that Italian macho shit. ' I ain't going to tell anyone and neither are you or I'll disown you' he said, and that was the last time we spoke." His hand chopped the air in a gesture of finality.
"That's terrible. How did you deal with it?" Sam was appalled. Joe gave a rueful laugh.
" After I left baseball I took up drinking, got two DUI's, sobered up and brought a bar with Dave."
"How about you, when did you know?" Joe threw back at him.
"That's easy, October 14, 2001." he said without hesitation. Now it was Joe's turn to encourage him to go on.
"I had just started at PSU. Me and a bunch of friends challenged some frat guys to a game of football. There was this one hunky guy and when he tackled me I came almost instantly. I knew at that moment I wanted to have sex with guys." he said matter of factly. Joe was astonished at how honest and easy Sam was on the subject. If only he could be so open. He was grateful for the delight and comfort in his arms.
They spent a lot of time alone exploring each other's bodies but the outside world was still a place of caution for Joe. He remained cordial to Sam at work, keeping things on a professional level, but was guarded when he and Sam went elsewhere. He would not acknowledge Sam's subtle affections; a nudge with an arm or leg, a squeeze to his thigh, a long glance Sam was frustrated and bewildered by his behavior until they were behind a closed door, then Joe would practically ravage him and all was forgotten. Joe knew it bothered Sam. His behavior bothered him more. When he looked at Sam he wanted to shout to the world his affection but then his old fear and vulnerability grabbed him before he dared.
His fears caught up with him one night when he dreamed of his father. He was with Sam, they lay on a beach cuddling and laughing when a shadow passed over them. Looking up Joe saw his father's looming face peering down at him with an angry scowl. He woke in a cold sweat and looked at the clock. It was six am in Pittsburgh, his father would just be getting up, he never slept more than a few hours. Mom would be up making him breakfast the way he demanded; two soft boiled eggs, a slice of nearly burnt toast and black coffee. Nothing ever changed with that stubborn man, not even his disapproval of Joe. He stared at the ceiling and sobbed until he fell back to sleep.
It was a bad omen. Work on the bar progressed at a hellish pace as one thing after another went wrong. Supplies didn't arrive then work halted while a snotty city inspector viewed the structural framing with suspicion but grudgingly passed it. Then one of the crew injured his hand and had to be rushed to the ER.
He was glad Sam wasn't there. It would have made the situation worse with his detached manner toward him and he didn't want Sam see him at his worst. They quit early to everyone's relief. The misery of work continued and his worse fears were realized when Sam appeared later that week and his anxiety went off the scale. Sam was his usual friendly self but Joe avoided his gaze.
Lunch time came and everyone sat on the tailgate of Bill's pick up parked behind the building. The usual banter turned bawdy when the guys spotted two women walking pass the site. Sam noticed Joe smiled and went along with it. He was alarmed at a growing suspicion.
He felt like someone had thrown ice cold water in his face. He understood at last the reason for Joe's behavior and he didn't like it. Joe lived where so many dwelled in hiding. Sam had visited that place but he was not going to join the masquerade in order to have a relationship, that would be a step backwards. Despite his hope otherwise, Joe was not coming out into the light of day. He finally cornered Joe making a trip to the dumpster in the corner of the parking lot.
"What's going on with you?" Sam asked in an uncharacteristic flash of anger. Joe's eyes darted around to make sure no one was looking.
"What do you mean?" Joe said with false innocence.
"You know damn well what I mean." Sam said tersely. Joe looked at him in growing fear, seeing the challenge in Sam's gaze. He leaned in close to Sam.
"These guys don't know I'm gay and I prefer to keep it that way." he said urgently. Sam stared at him and Joe knew what he was thinking. He had seen that look before with other lovers. The look that terrified him.
"They're not the only ones." Sam said with cold disappointment. He turned and left.
Joe was devastated but not surprised Sam did not return his phone calls. Why did he have to act this way? He lashed at himself as he paced the living room listening to the phone ring as he tried to call Sam again.
"Fuck." he swore as he hurled the phone across the room. It bounced off the couch and skidded across the floor. Incongruously he wondered how much abuse they were designed to withstand, as he stood in the middle of the room, staring at nothing. He shook himself awake and looked around. The apartment was lonelier than ever. It was empty and barren of anything recognizable.
What have I done? He wailed internally as he squeezed his eyes shut feeling the sting of rising tears. He gasped and threw open his eyes when he realized he had stopped breathing. His rising anxiety threatened to drown him. He caught sight of the photos on the far wall and drew closer as if seeing them for the first time. He inspected each one critically until he came to the team picture. He clutched at his right arm as a nervous spasm came.
Sam didn't understand and Joe couldn't explain. He was too afraid of his past. This was how he screwed up his other relationships. Maybe this time I'll be strong enough to resist those demons and come out of my shell, he told himself whenever he he got involved with someone. This time I'll have the support of a partner to throw off this bondage once and for all. When his lovers understood what a coward he was, they left him standing at the cliff edge of freedom with a look of sad disgust. They were tired of waiting for him to make the leap only to see him retreat into his shadow of doubt.
He didn't blame them one bit. His self hatred came to a boil and he smashed his fist into the team photo shattering the glass. He ignored the pain and bleeding from his cut hand as he rooted around in a kitchen cabinet for an old bottle of tequila and got quite drunk.