Chapter 31
In front of Josh, Steve lay on his stomach in bed, face buried in a pillow. Josh examined the diamond-shaped gap between Steve’s upper thighs and the lower buttocks. The arrow readied for its target.
He dabbed lube between the legs, and Steve jumped. “It’s cold!”
“Sorry.” Josh rubbed some on his cock. It wasn’t that cold, and a wave of pleasure flowed down the shaft. “Hold your legs together.”
Steve complied, but his body resisted. Tense muscles flexed in his shoulders and the ass cheeks clenched. He barely breathed. This guy was so uptight. Whatever happened to make him this way? Though Josh had heard that a lot of gay men just weren’t into it, he’d never met one like Steve before, not that he knew of, anyway.
It wasn’t something people talked about much, not even among his friends. What was one supposed to say? Oh, by the way, like to fuck? Top or bottom? Maybe they preferred less complicated sex. There was nothing wrong with a blow job, a simple jerk off, or maybe a little dry humping, but penetration was Josh’s preference.
He inserted and plunged along the perineum to the balls. Steve lurched. Smooth all the way, Josh was thankful for that. He’d doubted that Steve would groom, if hairy there, with no incentive nor need to impress. Steve had no use for his rear beyond its primary purpose.
Josh pounded the back of Steve’s balls with each stroke. Steve’s muscular thighs created a tight space, not ideal but good. Josh lost himself in the motion and resistance.
Then Steve squirmed. Not up and down in cooperation but side to side in distraction. Josh fell out of the moment.
“Are you okay? Quit wiggling.”
“It tickles.” Steve laughed awkwardly.
Josh had no words for this. Maybe if Steve relaxed, he wouldn’t be so jumpy, so Josh sat up butt to butt and rubbed Steve’s tight shoulders and back. Maybe a massage would put him at ease.
“That’s nice.” Steve moaned softly.
“Glad you’re enjoying it.” Josh tried his best to mask the irony in his voice. He liked it too. It made him feel close to Steve, though not in the same way he had in mind. Steve’s back relaxed a little. The muscles softened, and Josh returned to the plunge.
Before long, Steve jiggled again. “It tickles.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” Josh kept going. He was close and ignored Steve’s jerking motions.
“It tickles!” Steve’s hips jumped.
“Relax!” A deep sigh accompanied the words. “It’s almost over.” He lost patience and thrusted hard, hoping to finish.
“I need more lube.” Steve whined.
This halted Josh, flabbergasted. “Why? It’s not like it’s your ass!” He might like more lube, too, but resented the unneeded interruption.
“I’m chafing.” Steve insisted.
Josh grabbed the lube from the end table and applied a generous dab.
Steve bucked. “It’s cold!”
Josh spread the lube with the tip of his dick, guided by hand. “Does that feel better?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He plunged and pounded. Steve relaxed into it and breathed comfortably now, maybe a little labored toward the end. His thighs clamped tight. Apparently, he knew what to do. Josh thrusted deep and fast. Steve’s perineum hardened and his scrotum had contracted, giving more resistance to Josh’s probes.
Steve took to tending himself with his hand between his stomach and the mattress. He moaned. Josh came close to climax, but everything turned upside down. Steve rolled out from under him. Josh fell on his back and Steve on top of him. Robbed! Orgasm stolen!
When Steve sat up to reach for lube, he revealed he wore a condom. Josh hadn’t noticed it before the flip. He wondered when it went on. It might have been there all along. A plan! Devious! Steve was no Boy Scout but always prepared.
Surprised on his back, Josh rose on elbows. The palms of Steve’s hands pushed him gently down again. Steve’s arm wrapped under one of Josh’s legs, lifted it, and rested the calf on Steve’s shoulder. Josh watched his foot rise in the air and back toward his head as Steve crawled forward, hard cock dangling. The captured leg took Josh’s hip up with it and spread wide apart from the leg left behind.
Steve’s cock hit the spot. “Okay?” He pressed.
Josh sighed. He’d come so close, so near. He could resist Steve, though going with the flow might prove faster. His cock begged for release. He needed it now. “Do it,” he said with little hesitation.
The rest of the day played out much the same, until approaching midnight found him solemn. No sooner than that hour arrived, the clock ticked away the minutes to another Tuesday. When that day came, he would do it all again with subtle variation, and avoiding accident if possible. Josh established a new routine. The fun and games were over. The serious part began. It could work out. Josh dreaded that it wouldn’t. He couldn’t imagine a life without Steve.
Chapter 32
The receptionist showed Josh into the room. She seemed nice enough, young, pretty, and invited him to a chair. That was a relief. He sat and didn’t fancy lying down like they did on TV. She left the room and closed the door.
There was no couch, just the several clunky armchairs in a circle. A sign on the wall read “Please turn off your phone.” He complied and looked out the window at a treetop.
When the doctor came in, she offered no handshake and sat across from him. “I’m Tina Brinkwater.” She smiled at least. “What can I help you with, Mr. Jones? Do you mind if I call you Steve?” She opened a folder on her lap.
Steve? Oh, a mix up. Funny. It figured. Steve made the appointment. “My name’s Dalenzo. Josh.”
She stared at the label on the file and fumbled through papers. With a huff, her back straightened, the folder closed, and long legs lifted her up. She marched out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong and had no idea what was going on. Why the big deal? Maybe he shouldn’t have corrected her. She was mad at him now.
He waited and lost track of time. It seemed like forever in that awkward chair, no clock in the room, like the casinos, except for the window. Sunlight still shone outside. He picked up his phone and almost turned it on when Dr. Brinkwater opened the door. He dropped it on the seat between his legs.
She stood in the middle of the room and glared at him with the file at her breast. Her arms folded around it. He was about to apologize for whatever he’d done, but she spoke up first. “I didn’t disclose the name of a patient. We don’t do that here, even by accident. My assistant assures me, I don’t know a Steve Jones. It must have been a clerical error. I’m sorry.” She returned to her chair and stared out the window with a deep breath.
“It’s my boyfriend, Steve. He made the appointment.”
She glanced at him. Before he met her, he’d imagined what she might look like and pictured his Aunt Beatrice. She did resemble his aunt, who’d taken him under her wing when he’d lost his mother. Except Aunt Bea was older, and shorter, and heavier before she, too, passed away. God rest her soul. Now instead of his aunt, Dr. Brinkwater reminded him more of his high school hockey coach, gruff Monsieur DaGuerre, maybe it had to do with her specialization, sports psychology.
He followed her eyes out the window, where a desert willow bloomed. The orchid-like flowers fell in pink and white panicles. Maybe he should say something. Nothing came to mind. A strand of hair broke from twisting. It dangled on his fingertips before his eyes.
As if from a deep thought she turned to him. “Did he make the appointment for you? Or for him?”
Thank God the silence broke. Her voice both startled and relieved him. “For me, but sometimes I think he needs one for himself.”
“Maybe he does. Do you want to be here?” she asked.
He didn’t understand the question. Why would he be there if he didn’t want to be? “I’m here.”
“Why did Steve make the appointment? Did you ask him to?” she asked. “Why d
idn’t you do it yourself?”
“I planned to, but he beat me to it.”
“Was your plan to make the appointment with me or with another doctor?”
“Steve picked you.”
“Did you have another psychiatrist in mind?”
“No.”
“Are you here because you want to be?”
“Yes.” Maybe that was a half-truth. But what else was he going to say?
She tapped her pen. “Okay, what can I do for you?”
“I want to be normal.” Wasn’t this obvious?
She shifted in her seat and looked askance at him. “Could you be a little more specific?”
He’d filled out twenty forms in the lobby and wasn’t about to repeat the whole story. She must have read his mind because she opened the folder and scanned through the papers. “I see here you’re a trapeze artist, and you’re afraid of falling, something about a superstition. You can’t have sex on a day you perform. Have you fallen?”
“No, not in a long time.”
“What happened then?”
“I was a teenager. I lost control one morning and, um, masturbated. Then I broke my leg. It was a warning. I never did it again, not on a show day.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“I have Steve now. If I give into him, I’ll fall. I’m afraid.”
“Why is Steve different from anyone else?”
She asked hard questions. “It’s a long story.” He hadn’t gotten that far in the form.
“Give me the short version then.”
“It’s the curse.”
She made a note in the folder. “Yes, I see something about that. Who knows about it? How long has it gone on?”
“Forever almost. Only my family knows, but they’re all gone, except my uncle.”
“Does he believe in it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“No. I mean not really.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m afraid.”
She made a note. “Describe it.”
“My heart pounds. The air cuts off. My chest gets tight. I sweat. I don’t believe it, but it doesn’t matter what I think. The curse takes over, whether I believe it or not. It doesn’t care. I heard about it so many times, my whole life. It got inside somehow and won’t leave me alone.”
“When did this last happen?”
“I don’t let it. I don’t get that close anymore.”
“When was the last time?”
“A few years ago. It got so lonely. I went out between shows. A guy came over and talked to me. He was nice. I liked him. Normally, I wouldn’t let that happen. He surprised me though, with a hug, and he kissed me. It felt so good I didn’t want to stop. My heart was pounding. At first, I thought it was because of him, but it was more than that. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t breathe. Then I broke out in a sweat and shivered. They called 911. An ambulance came. By the time I got to the hospital, alone, it was over. The doctor called it a panic attack.”
“What happened then?”
“The sun rose. I went home.”
“You said you had a show that day?”
“Yes, later.”
“Any problems?”
“No, but I was glad I hadn’t done anything.”
She made a note. “Would I be able to talk to your uncle about this, the curse as you call it?”
Good luck with that. Uncle Alfonso wouldn’t tell her anything. Josh’s shoulders sank. She would think he made it up. He wished it were a figment of his imagination. Maybe it was a delusion when it started, way back in Egypt, and over the centuries, belief made it real. “Uh, sure.” What else was he going to say?
She tapped her pen. “Also, we might need to arrange for a small practice performance on the trapeze if you can provide the facilities. Do have any questions?”
It was too much information for him all at once. “Isn’t there a pill?”
She looked out the window again. Those flowers were pretty he had to admit. They swayed in the breeze.
Her eyes returned to him. “Not as a cure. Drugs help sometimes, but you wouldn’t like the side effects in your profession. The receptionist will have some reading material for you about how we treat phobias and anxiety disorders, though the diagnosis could be more complicated than that.” She stood and handed Josh a piece of paper. “Give her this.”
He got up and took it. “Why did this happen to me?” His chest sunk.
“I don’t know. The mind is a complex thing. You seem like you’re handling it well for now. It could be worse. Sex once a week isn’t the end of the world, is it?”
He wasn’t crazy about her bedside manner but had to agree. “Not for me.” Steve was another story.
“Cheer up then. Some people might be happy with your problem. It’s time. Nice meeting you. Have a good day.”
Josh left without a handshake. He made some appointments on the way out, took the pamphlets, and went home.
Chapter 33
Several Tuesdays passed, and summer blew in like a blast of heat from an oven door. So that he could see more of Steve, Josh retired in the night instead of waiting until dawn and rose a little earlier in the day. Steve did his part, too. He stayed up and slept a little later. They spent most nights together, sleeping, careful to leave it at that, except on Tuesday.
He missed seeing the sunrise but chatted with Mike now in the afternoon most days. Often too hot to meet by the fence, they spoke on the phone or stopped by. Mike always wanted to know how things were going and offered encouragement.
No longer lonely, Josh found a new life. He worried sometimes it wouldn’t last, having known so many losses, but for now, he was happy.
He’d spent Monday night at Steve’s place when he rose early and stepped out on the balcony. The sunrise dimmed the downtown lights and reflected on the courthouse nearby. Having made love after midnight, he’d planned with Steve when they woke in the morning to go for a ride in the mountains. It was cooler up there.
Josh liked a journey. He’d never made this trip before, to a town called Pahrump, and a winery there. No doubt they would meet some adventures along the way and fun on arrival. Though from experience, he suspected he wouldn’t find the destination as he’d pictured it. Life was unexpected, and his imagination sometimes ran away with him.
After breakfast and down to the garage, Steve opened the tailgate on a truck he’d borrowed from his father. Josh helped him set the dirt bike on its side in the bed. It was light enough to pick up and put in the pickup, unlike Josh’s bike. In a parking spot nearby, the Diavel waited, too heavy to lift without a ramp. Josh would ride it and follow the truck to Red Rock Canyon, where the rocky trail began over the hump to Pahrump.
Charleston Boulevard led the way to Red Rock. Josh pulled beside the truck at a light and winked. Steve didn’t notice it, but the bronze turtles in the median peered back at Josh, their heads sticking up on long necks unmoved from the last time he passed them. On this road, he’d shared the curse with Steve on the night the police came to the pool, not so long ago, but forever. Everything changed after that. The curse stood between them, but it couldn’t keep them apart.
The light turned green. Josh revved forward. Now he led the way. Maybe someday he would live a normal life with Steve, there for him every day, freed from the curse. Then he could trust his happiness.
Out of town a bit and into the canyon, the road wound past sandstone cliffs, the colors of earthen pottery. Shards of rock fired in the sun. For eons the stone baked, and ancient visitors left markings on its face, designs of unknown magic.
Josh called on the mountains to break the curse. Maybe their mystical designs contained a spell to make him well. One could hope. The air cooled at this elevation, and he took a deep breath.
They came to Rocky Gap Road, the path to Pahrump. Steve drove up behind him and parked the truck in the gravel lot by the Diavel. They met at the tailgate and pulled out the dirt bik
e. Steve turned the motor, and it made a deafening racket. Josh jumped on the Diavel and sped along the bumpy trail in a cloud of dust kicked up by Steve’s tires.
A funny sight, bulky Steve on the little bike he had as a child. The Diavel was big compared to Josh. He likened it to Steve and dreamed of riding him one day. Though he’d never seen it from the outside, he could picture himself and Steve together, big on little or little on big, more interesting this way, at least to him. What made attraction, no one knew.
A wild burro stood by the trail and ate jimson flowers, purple and white trumpets. Then a herd, the crazy creatures chewed. Imported here, they learned to live on mesquite pods and banana yucca. Not much grass among the juniper and creosote, a jack rabbit sprinted from a desert marigold to hide beneath the beavertail and hedgehog cactus. A mountain blue bird, the color of sky, flittered in the manzanita blossoms, pink droplets against sienna bark.
The trail climbed through craggy scarps pointing to the sky. Josh coughed through black smoke. So much for fresh air. More and more as they ascended, Steve’s dirt bike cranked out soot from the tailpipe. Josh choked behind it.
Exhaust thickened. The roar softened. Steve’s bike slowed. Then just as they reached the summit, it stalled. No sooner than Steve jumped off, the block cracked and hissed. Its motor dead, the kickstand failed, and the bike fell on its side in the gravel.
Steve stood over it with a hand on his head.
Josh pulled up and parked next to him. He got off the Diavel and pointed. “Look behind us. You can see where we came from.” Red Rock Canyon lay below, and above its eastern wall, Sunrise Mountain peeked in the far distance across the Las Vegas Valley.
Steve turned to look at the view. Josh could tell he knew his bike was gone and grieved it. His face drew no joy from the beautiful sight behind them. No doubt he’d ridden this road on that bike many times. This was the last.
“I have to leave it.” Steve picked it up from its side and propped it on the kickstand. “Maybe I’ll get a jeep and bring it down later, if it’s still here.”
The Curse of Flight Page 15
