Chapter 7
I only got lost once on the way to Scott and Jay’s house. The streets of downtown Nashville made my brain hurt; add in my terrible sense of direction, and one wrong turn was actually a victory.
Nashville’s downtown was an odd jumble of short red-brick buildings dating back a hundred years or more, and shiny new skyscrapers. You might walk past the Ryman Auditorium where the Grand Ole Opry recorded its show for decades, then enter the lobby of the city’s tallest tower, like the Bat Building, only a block or two away. The Bat Building was BellSouth’s new headquarters. It wasn’t actually named the Bat Building, but that’s what everyone called in thanks to the odd glass and girder protrusions on its top that looked like Batman’s ears.
There was an odd beauty in the tightly packed juxtaposition of old and new.
The guys lived just across the Cumberland River, almost within sight of historic Second Avenue. Yes, that’s the same Second Avenue where the Wildhorse Saloon hosted a performance by my one-time obsession, Jason. I thought about that night briefly as I passed the multi-story bar. Why had I been so taken with him back then?
Jason had joined Dwayne and me for lunch a few times over the past few months. He was still hot, but now that I knew him, I was glad he wasn’t looking for anything.
Let’s call that a healthy miss.
I crossed the brackish waters of the Cumberland, and the quality of the real estate took a quick nosedive. Tattered public housing rose to my right, while houses barely holding themselves together sprawled to my left. I tried to keep the sinking feeling now churning in my gut at bay, but it was determined to make this an uncomfortable drive.
Three left turns, two gas stations, and one liquor store with a shattered window later, I reached the sign for Pierce Avenue, the dead-end street where the boys lived. The first house I passed had an old refrigerator on the front porch. The fridge matched the rusty white car in the driveway, though the cinder blocks holding the car up didn’t quite fit the rusted metal motif.
My family was never wealthy, and I had nothing against folks who struggled financially, but this was starting to make me nervous. Where the hell was I going?
The third house on Pierce towered over the others, a new two-story construction that looked like something off the cover of a real estate magazine. To either side of this majestic home were more houses with appliances as yard art. The yards themselves had less grass than the dusty infield at softball practice.
I finally reached the end of the street and looked up to find another two-story newbie. It was stunning. Most of the exterior was red brick, and each floor had its own deck that wrapped around the entire structure. Even the driveway looked freshly laid, its pearly white concrete barely showing signs of recent rain, much less wear. I double-checked the softball flier and confirmed the 243 on the door was my destination.
The knot in my gut relaxed as I walked up the driveway and Scott appeared in the open doorway. He wore a tall, puffy chef’s hat and a broad smile. As I drew closer, he waved a wooden spoon and called out, “Come on in. I need to take the beans off the heat.”
The sound of barking dogs grew louder, then abruptly stopped as the guardians of the castle peered out the open door, daring me to enter. I’m not sure what breed they were, something small, puffy, and white. The moment I leaned down, all three attacked my hand with warm, slobbery tongues.
“Wow. They don’t like anybody.” I looked up as Jay descended the wooden stairs.
I grinned and tried to reply, but words eluded me. The last time I saw Jay, he was wearing baggy baseball pants covered in dirt. Now, slightly above my eye level, sheer, tight-fitting light-blue shorts clung to every curve—and his curve was huge. I was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing underwear by the swing on his porch. I really loved swings.
I swallowed the lump that sprung out of nowhere and threw my eyes back down toward the dogs, desperate not to look at the taken dude’s package.
He chuckled, then turned. “Come on in. Scott’s just about got dinner ready. Hope you like barbecue chicken and baked beans.”
“Sounds great.”
The fluff balls had apparently decided I was part of their pack and surrounded me as I followed the sound of clanking pots and utensils. The house was an interesting mix of log cabin and postmodern minimalist.
What am I saying? I don’t know anything about architecture.
The walls were like a log cabin, where the wood had been flattened and polished to a sheen. The gooey stuff that held the logs together was visible, but sealed within the wood’s clear coating. It was beautiful; I’d never seen anything like it. As I passed the den, I took a good look at the ceiling; white, with an intricate pattern of massive beams made of the same rich wood as the walls, giving the open floor plan a sense of height and rustic elegance. Long, puffy leather couches created a seating area around a large-screen television. It was warm outside, but the guys had lit a fire in the fireplace anyway.
There were photos everywhere—standing on tables, propped up against books in tall niches, and hung on every wall. Images of varying sizes told the story of Jay and Scott on a cruise ship, riding horses on a mountain path—and a whole lot more. In a number of the pictures, the boys were posing on various beaches wearing only speedos. I leaned in close to one photo and…
Sweet Chicken of the Sea, Jay’s free-flopping curve looked even bigger in a banana hammock.
I turned and led the pack from their den of iniquity, finally reaching the kitchen. Scott was standing at the stove ladling beans into a serving dish. Jay was nuzzled up behind him, sneaking kisses on his neck. I paused, taking them in.
Set aside how beautiful each of them was in their own right—they were fit, muscular, sexy guys in the prime of life—but that wasn’t what made me stare. It was the tenderness of the moment, the gentle kiss Jay pressed against Scott’s neck, and the way Scott leaned back into his lover’s touch. There was something so simple, so honest, in that gesture.
Scott must’ve felt me staring, because he looked up, winked, then shooed Jay away with his wooden spoon. “Go on now, the table isn’t going to set itself.” Scott turned to me and issued more orders. “You, come here. Help me put these dishes out.”
And just like that, I realized Scott was the mother of the pack.
– # –
Before we dove into the meal, Scott dove into conversation, asking everything he could about my past, present, and future. It felt a little like a job interview, but I secretly enjoyed the attention. I wasn’t used to guys wanting to know all that stuff.
Jay finally rescued me. “I’m going to starve if you keep asking Michael questions. Let’s eat.”
Jay was dad. Got it.
Dinner was delicious. How can you not love barbecue? Scott used canned baked beans, but added so many spices and herbs they were barely recognizable from the original—and they were outstanding. Scott drank white wine, while Jay had beer. They gave each other a look I didn’t quite follow when I asked for a Coke.
What is it about me asking for Coke that makes men grin?
The guys were as free with their own information as they had been with questions. Jay spoke like an online profile. “I grew up in Knoxville with my parents and three brothers, am a diehard Tennessee Vols fan, and work for a landscaping company. Scott and I met in college. He’s the only man I’ve ever dated. We’ve been together for eight years, ten if you count freshman and sophomore years when we fucked but claimed we were straight and it was just a college phase.”
They shared a grin and laughed in unison. Jesus, they were like the same person sometimes.
I eyed Jay’s golden tan. As an Irishman, I’d always envied those with more than pasty pigments. I’d tried tanning oils, creams, even tanning beds, but nothing worked. The best I could do was make a few patches of freckles merge and pretend it was a tan. Melanin was repelled by my near-translucence.
Snapping out of my skin-tone envy, I turned to Scott. “What about you? Was Jay your first and only?”
“Oh hell no. He was a slut,” Jay barked.
Scott grabbed a fork and pretended to toss it at him from across the table, grinning the whole time.
“I was very friendly in college, thank you very much,” he said dramatically. “I studied nursing, and work at Baptist Hospital now.”
“What kind of nurse are you? I mean, where do you work in the hospital?” I asked.
“I work in the NICU, taking care of babies.”
I tried not to swoon at the idea of sexy Scott holding a newborn, but it was the perfect profession for him. In the short time I’d known him, he’d impressed me with how he took care of everyone around him. He did it at the softball field, and he clearly took care of the pack here in his home.
It didn’t hurt that he was a hardy Midwestern boy from Iowa.
He saw my awed expression and joked, “I was raised with good morals, muscles, and mothers.”
I quirked my brow at that last statement, completely lost. Jay laughed and leaned over like he was telling me a secret. “He was raised by a pair of lesbians.” He slithered out the last word as if he was a snake.
Oh. I think my mouth actually made that O shape.
I’d never heard of such a thing. My brain immediately tried to process the biology of his birth and came up empty.
Scott and Jay each barked a laugh, then Scott saved my impending aneurysm. “I was adopted when I was six months old. My birth mom was a drug addict who died in childbirth. If it weren’t for two loving women coming to my rescue, I don’t know where I’d be now.”
I wanted to smile to show I understood, but the heartbreak of his birth held my pained expression in place—to lose his mother before he could know her.
Scott smiled. “It’s all good. My moms are the best. They taught me everything I know about being a man and taking care of my own family.”
I’d need to consult the Oracle of AOL for answers later. Women teaching a boy how to be a man puzzled my preacher’s kid’s mind.
Jay stood and started grabbing dirty plates. “Why don’t we clean up, then we can watch a movie or something.”
A movie. Or something? This sounded vaguely familiar.
We all moved to the kitchen, and I chided myself for making a naughty assumption. These guys were a couple. From what I could see, they were just about the happiest, most loving pair of dudes you’d ever meet.
What was I thinking?
And then Jay spoke. “I think we should get in the hot tub instead of watching a movie.”
I almost dropped the glass I was washing. Hot tub?
“That’s a great idea, babe. I’m still sore from softball, and it’s so nice out tonight,” Scott said enthusiastically. “Is that okay with you, Michael?”
“Sure, I guess. I mean, I, uh, didn’t bring any swim trunks or anything.”
Jay laughed. “That’s perfect. We don’t allow clothing in our hot tub anyway.”
Scott somehow found the wooden spoon in the soapy water and swatted Jay’s arm playfully. “You be good.”
“Yes, Mom,” Jay said without a hint of remorse. Then leaned over my shoulder and whispered, his hot breath brushing my ear, “It’s settled. Naked tub in ten. I’m gonna go get it hot for you.”
The glass slipped from my grasp, and soapy water splattered everywhere.
Jay’s laughter could be heard echoing off the walls until the thud of the sliding door blocked him out.
“Don’t let his mouth scare you. He’s harmless. Besides, he’s got a great mouth,” Scott said affectionately.
I ignored the burning blush of my ears and focused on fishing the glass out of the bubbles.
– # –
Was it weird to go upstairs for an outdoor hot tub?
I wasn’t sure, but, like a lost puppy, I followed Scott anyway.
We wove our way through a hallway and entered a large bedroom that spanned half the upstairs floor space. Their king-sized bed held court against the far wall, and was cloaked in a fluffy comforter embroidered with a bright floral pattern. Another huge television hung on the wall opposite the bed. Dressers consumed one side, while the other side contained a small sitting area, complete with two chairs and a love seat. Double French doors between the dressers led to their bathroom. I couldn’t see much, but a sea of marble gleamed as I strained to check it out.
We exited through a sliding door next to the love seat. The smell of freshly cut grass slapped my nose as we walked out onto the upper deck, where the hot tub gurgled happily. Scott disappeared back into the house to grab towels.
I really didn’t connect the dots of the hot tub sitting only a few feet from the entrance to their bedroom. Bookmark that for later. You’ll want to reference this moment of gullible idiocy.
As I stared into the frothy water, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jay’s steamy breath on my neck. The tiny hairs prickled as my fingers tried to scratch the sensation away. I sucked in a deep breath, but an odd mix of terror, anticipation, and something I couldn’t identify kept my heart racing—horniness, yeah, that was the other thing. Little Michael made that clear. The mixture of those emotions was a cocktail made for, well, a cock—and mine was ready to leap out of my shorts and be seen by the world. I was afraid it might break out into song like in a Disney movie.
Hmm. I wonder what Uncle Walt would name that character?
Never mind.
Scott and Jay were inside doing whatever they did before getting naked in a hot tub. They’d left me out to wait, or get ready, or, I don’t know, play with the dogs. Three luminous fluff balls had tailed us and now swirled in constant motion around my feet.
I peered over the railing and took in the perfectly manicured yard. Bursts of pink, purple, and blue bordered the green expanse. At the far end, a small wooden pergola sheltered two benches and a bubbling fountain. There wasn’t a bloom or blade out of place, and the towering fence encircling the garden ensured total privacy. Even the upper deck had light-brown wicker screens to shield the hot tub from the neighbors’ view. Somewhere, on another plane of existence, a Japanese Zen master was pleased by Jay’s effort.
“Am I throwing you in fully clothed?”
I nearly jumped over the railing as Jay stepped up behind me.
When I turned, my eyes widened at his naked body only inches away—and we’re not talking AOL inches either. I staggered back a step, and the banister pressed into my back. He grinned at my discomfort.
My eyes ignored the command to stay at eye level, wandering down his perfectly tanned and toned physique. His shoulders were even rounder than I remembered, and he had those tiny nipples you just wanted to tickle and call my little buddy.
That’s not weird. That’s what you call them, right?
Anyway.
Before I could vomit—I mean, say anything—he stepped forward and gripped the bottom of my T-shirt with both hands.
“Arms up, mister,” he commanded.
My arms flew skyward as if a dozen policemen had guns trained on me.
His grin widened as he slowly pulled my shirt upward, revealing my abs. He teased my skin, dragging my shirt so the fabric barely tickled it on the way up. I couldn’t stop a shiver.
“Stop that!” Scott’s voice shattered the moment. I wanted to thank him for saving me, but couldn’t find my voice. “At least wait to strip him until I can watch.”
Thanks a lot, Scott. Nice save, dude.
Off went my shirt. Jay looked down at my chest, shot me a devious grin, then tossed my shirt over the banister into the yard. I was so stunned that I forgot the guys and turned my head to watch the shirt flutter to the ground. The sensation of fingers around my happy trail, fumbling with my jeans button, spun my head back around. Jay was on his knees with my button between his fingers. Scott knelt behind him, his eyes glued to the show Uncle Walt never intended.
I didn’t know what to do. Shit. These guys were a couple. Were they actually coming on to me? Could I get naked with married guys?
Technically, guys couldn’t get married back then, but you know what I mean. Wait, maybe that technicality actually allowed me to do this? Maybe I was legally bound to get naked. Gay rights or equal marriage rights or something super important might depend on my nakedness. This was a patriotic duty!
In that moment, I decided to give myself to the cause.
I spread my arms out wide, placed my hands on the banister, and arched my back so my head was hovering over open yard. Jay had full access to do whatever he pleased to that little button.
No, the actual button. My other thing wasn’t little. Really.
Stop laughing.
I heard Scott whisper, “Oh my god. Look at him.”
They hadn’t unbuttoned my jeans yet. Confused, I looked down to find Jay staring up at my eyes and Scott reaching a hand out to touch my abs. A second later, his fingertips brushed my skin and my whole body convulsed.
All three of us grinned.
Then Jay ripped my jeans off and tossed them over the railing into the yard.
Continue reading My Wildest Date.