Covert

by Kelly Fox

  “Seriously, Christopher. What crawled up your butt and died?”

  “Ann, believe me when I say that you don’t want to know.”

  “That mean it’s personal?”

  I clench my jaw and keep my eyes on my notes, willing myself not to shed a fucking tear in front of Ann Fucking Richards.

  “Ooookay. Well, now you have to tell me what’s going on. I need you at full capacity, Christopher. I can’t have you falling down on this bill at the last moment.”

  Frustrated, I look her right in the eye and tell the truth.

  “Fine. I’m gay. And I’m in unrequited hell.”

  She doesn’t even blink. “Unrequited? He doesn’t love you back?”

  “He has feelings for me, but he’s in his twenties. I’m not going to ruin him by making him live in the closet while I try to make something happen with these bills.”

  “Is he in government? Is he someone I would know?”

  I shake my head. “He’s a political aide, but he’s doing that to put himself through college. He’s a writer.”

  She leans in and gestures for me to come closer.

  I comply, and Ann Richards, Treasurer of the great state of Texas, thunks me on my forehead.

  “Ouch!”

  “Stop being an asshole, Christopher. I won’t lie and say that the political climate, in your district in particular, is conducive to a State Senator in a homosexual relationship.”

  “Exactly.”

  She leans over and thunks me again. “Dammit, Morris, you deserve happiness. Even if you’ve gotta be covert about it, you gotta stop letting those dickheads steal your joy.”

  I rub my fore head and sigh. “Ann, I can’t force that beautiful, young man to live in a closet. I can’t.”

  “Honey, it’s not about hiding from everyone. Let your family in. Let your trusted friends in. Let your son see you love someone wholeheartedly for once in your miserable life. You can be out to the people who support you. The people who matter.”

  She pins me with that eyebrow of hers again and I realize that if Ann Richards says to do something, you goddamn do it.

  Thirty seconds later, I’m up and walking out the door.

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  I pause, then wink at her. “I gotta go see a gazebo about a man.”

  Hand on the Bible, she nods and winks right back.

  Of course, now that I’m at the gazebo, I feel like a total idiot. I had a pretty good idea I’d find him here at lunchtime, but now that I’m within fifty yards of him, I’m losing my nerve. He’s here with a friend, and that…complicates things. Worse, Magnus appears to be crying.

  The friend, who I suspect is his roommate, is gay from the parking lot. I don’t think they’re seeing each other but watching him comfort Magnus is almost too much to bear.

  Maybe I'm just masochistic, but I watch them like a creeper from my car. I feel terrible and I wonder if…I’m not proud of it, but a sick part of me hopes that it was because of us.

  That our one, tortured night together meant as much to him as it continues to mean to me.

  I look over there again and shit. His friend just saw me. He’s subtle, but that’s a head tilt, an invitation to come over. I can’t even begin to hope, but maybe wishful thinking’s all I got.

  I make my way out of the car and walk over to the koi pond, where I pause again. Magnus is still crying and his friend points to me. Magnus turns around, and my breath catches in my throat.

  Not only has he been crying, but he looks as bad as I do. The area under his eyes is dark, he’s got a pinched, unhealthy pallor, and his trim physique borders on gaunt. I stop, almost unable to do anything except look at him.

  His friend approaches me and leans in, whispering, “Don’t assume that you know what he needs. Listen to him, love him, and if you ever fuck him over, I’ll remove your gonads with my fabric shears.”

  I wince, then ask the question that has haunted me for a solid month. “Does he even want me anywhere near him?”

  He looks down at me and smiles. “You’ve both got it so bad that it’s nearly killing the two of you to stay apart. Why don’t you walk him over to Sandy’s, get a milkshake to fortify yourselves, then go do what comes naturally?”

  I look up and find a man with a knowing, almost wistful look in his eyes.

  Maybe I should be concerned that he’ll out me, but I doubt it. Ann’s words come back to me—it’s not about hiding from everyone, it’s about making sure that the right people know.

  I slowly make my way over to Maggie, giving him plenty of time to leave. He hugs himself but doesn’t go anywhere.

  “I don’t think that I can handle talking to you in public,” he says, his voice soft and broken.

  His friend is right. We are both fucking miserable.

  “Me either, sweetheart. Your friend suggested that I take you to Sandy’s.”

  I ache at his uncertainty as he tightens his arms around his chest. “He probably also suggested god knows how many sexual positions.”

  “He was more oblique than that, but the suggestion was there.”

  We finally make eye contact and his wobbly smile is a bolt of lightning through me.

  “Will you let me buy you a milkshake?” I ask, not daring to hope.

  He grins and big, fat tears fall from his eyes. “Yes.”

  I’ve had a lot of important yesses in my life. Hell, just last week I got the stingiest State Senator to say yes to my latest small business initiative. But this yes beats that yes by a cool mile.

  A real smile crosses my lips for the first time in a month. He follows me to my car, too far away from me to touch him. And when we sit in the car together, there’s awkwardness in the not touching, because if we weren’t in public, I’d have my hands all over him.

  Instead, we follow his friend’s advice and go to Sandy’s for some milkshakes and conversation. Magnus gets the chocolate, I get the strawberry, and we sit in the car, watching the car show at the Palmer Auditorium while we catch up on what we’ve been doing.

  We’re keeping it light, because what we need to talk about is heavy. Beyond that first yes there are life-changing words that we need to say to each other, and this is only our second conversation. Third, if you count my fool blather the morning after.

  We pull up to my house and I drive to the back so that we can use the kitchen entry. We still haven’t touched, and when we enter the kitchen, we both gravitate toward the table, sitting across from each other.

  I ask the question I’ve been wanting to ask him all afternoon.

  “May I call you Maggie?”

  He smiles, and my heart thuds in my chest. I miss that smile more than anything.

  “Yes, but only because you asked me.”

  I hadn’t realized I’d held my breath waiting for his response, until the need to breathe finally hits me. Oh, thank God.

  “I know that there is an order to a relationship. I know that you first get to know someone, and you decide whether or not you like each other, and then you decide as you get to know this person whether or not they are compatible in all of the small and large areas of your life. And I want to know all of those small and large compatibilities. I want to know your bad habits, and I want to know your goals, and I want to meet your mother. Or at least have you meet mine. But if you make me stay a table’s width apart from you for a minute longer, I’m going to go insane. If I’m not in love with you, I am damn close, and I don’t know why this happened to us this way, but—”

  Magnus stands up so quickly that his chair falls backward, bouncing on the hardwood floor. I stand up too, but less dramatically because I’m in my fifties and some war wounds don’t ever go away. By the time I’m something approaching upright, Magnus is on me, kissing me, putting his hands on my hips, my chest, my arms, my neck, my face, my hair, nearly knocking me backwards. I brace myself with my sticks, and he pulls back, a shocked look on his face.

  “Christopher, I’m so sorry. H
ave I hurt you?”

  I bark out a laugh and lean into him, continuing the kiss. Pulling away ever so gently, I respond, “The only thing that ever hurt was being away from you.”

  We continue to kiss until he’s got me pushed up against the refrigerator, kissing me as though my lungs contain the last bit of oxygen on the earth.

  I finally have to pull away from him to breathe.

  “If you’re gonna keep on kissing me like that, you’re going to need to take me to bed.”

  “I’m in a bit of a hurry, do you mind if I get us there a little faster?” he asks, fire in his eyes.

  I grin at his tenacity.

  “Are you going to carry me across the threshold, Mr. Larsen?”

  He responds by picking me up in his strong arms and walking me back to my room.

  It’s a good move.

  He gently places me on the bed, setting pillows under my head. He then drops down on to me, and any doubts I had are erased by the feel of his hard length against mine.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “Maggie, I may be an old man, but I’m not that old. And in case you haven’t figured it out, I’m wiry as all get out. I can take whatever you’re giving me.”

  “Oh, is that right, old man?” Leaning to whisper in my ear, he asks, “What if I want to give you my dick?”

  He emphasizes the question with a thrust against me, bringing me embarrassingly close to the edge, nearly a one-pump chump.

  “I don’t care. I really don’t. I want you every way I can get you. I want to be in you, I want you in me, just don’t stop what you’re doing.”

  We both start taking off our clothes, unable to stop kissing and grinding against one another. We could’ve been naked by now, but I don’t think either of us really gives a damn. Soon enough we’re both naked and rubbing, stroking against one another. After another near-orgasm, I grab his hips, pushing him away from me.

  “If you’re going to get into me, do it now. Or you’re going to make me come all over you.”

  Maggie pauses and gathers himself and, if I had to guess, quickly calculates whether he wants to come quickly now or deeply later. He decides on deep and reaches into the upper drawer of my nightstand, pulling out the lube and remaining condoms that he put there a month ago. He rolls on the condom, slicking himself up. He leans back on his heels and breathes in and out, slowing himself down.

  “Christopher, this is your first time and I want to make sure that it’s good for you. So, I’m going to take it easy.”

  I groan, fighting back the demand to go faster, because I know from my own tentative exploration that I’m going to need to go slow. I nod, then he smiles and kisses me while pumping my cock a few times.

  He slides his fingers over my balls, swirling around my entrance until I can feel myself relax a little bit. Not too slow, not too fast, he pushes a finger into me. There’s a small sort of burn, but it feels nice, too. There are definitely some nerve endings back there that I hadn’t yet got to. Maggie rocks on top of me, his finger still inside of me. The rocking motion feels so good and a couple of seconds later he presses up against a sensitive spot deep inside of me, and I inhale.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Oh yeah, that’s a good spot.”

  I’d like to say that the rest of it was as lovely and comfortable, but by the time he got his third finger in, I knew that I needed to relax a lot more.

  “Push out when I push in. It helps.”

  I do as he says, and it does, a little, but I can tell that the only thing that’s really going to work for this is a little bit of time and patience. I search his young, beautiful face and he appears to be willing to be patient. A few moments later the three fingers stretch, but do not burn. Maggie switches it up a bit and I feel his hard cock against me. He pushes in slowly, filling me up, uncomfortable until it’s not.

  It’s hard to be this vulnerable without also feeling insecure. I’m fifty-two, he’s twenty-two, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with him. My thoughts are loud and he strokes his thumb across my knitted brows, relaxing me, soothing me with his words and his caresses as he continues his invasion of my body.

  He continues the slow undulation of his hips, getting slightly deeper with each thrust. Once he’s got a good rhythm, he takes my dick in hand and strokes me in time with his thrusts.

  I push back against him and he hits that perfect spot inside of me. With his hand on my dick, we both come within seconds of each other. The feeling of warmth building inside of me once again turns my world on its side.

  We clean up and then hold each other and talk about our lives. I tell him about losing my wife and being proud of my son, while simultaneously worrying about him. He speaks beautifully of his AIDS activism and the number of friends he’s lost. It shames me to think that I’d been bitching about whether or not a man sounded too gay, instead of investigating why so many were allowed to die without a response from our own goddamned government.

  When he tells me about Clarence’s boyfriend, and how he and Clarence sang Mario’s favorite songs to him as he passed away, I am even more determined to make something right in this world.

  Finally, sated with sex and conversation, we drift off, holding on to one another until sleep pulls us under.

  Chapter Ten

  Magnus

  I wake up and know that this morning is different from the last time I woke up in Christopher’s arms. I look at him, and all I can see is my future laid out in front of me.

  He snorts a little and then kind of shakes himself awake. Immediately, his eyes look for mine.

  “Morning, Beautiful.” His just-woken-up voice is a low growl and it settles in my gut.

  “Morning, Christopher. How did you sleep last night?”

  He looks at me and smirks. “Well enough to be recovered and ready to go this morning.”

  I look down at him and smile. His normally perfectly coiffed hair is a bit askew and he’s got this adorably sleepy look on his face.

  “Want me to make you some eggs this morning?”

  He looks me up and down and shakes his head. “Let me make the breakfast this morning, Maggie,” he says with a smile.

  About 15 minutes later he comes back with a bowl full of soft, fluffy scrambled eggs, and two mugs full of coffee. He sets the bowl between us and hands me my coffee. We share the bowl, and though it’s a simple meal, it’s nourishing and tasty. Not unlike the man in bed next to me.

  As we finish off our cups of coffee, Christopher turns to me, a serious look on his face. I get that familiar clenching in my gut, but…he is smiling. So, maybe it’s not bad news.

  “We need to talk about your employment. Are you happy at Senator Thompson’s office?”

  I smile. “Nope.”

  “That’s what I thought. He shuffles papers around a whole lot, but never does anything of value. How would you like to come work for the Christopher Morris office? I won’t go easy on you, but I will give you a chance to make a difference.”

  It’s a risk, but I feel it too. I can’t stand to be away from him and a job in his office makes us being seen together a nonissue. I shrug, noncommittal. “I have to think about it, Senator Morris. What’s your compensation package look like?”

  He grins and slides his hand under my balls, cupping them. “I can promise you that you’ll like my package better. And I’ll meet or beat whatever Thompson is paying you now.”

  I smile and lean forward, kissing him. “You drive a hard bargain, Senator Morris.”

  “Oh, you’re just about to find out how hard my bargain really is.”

  I throw my head back and laugh with so much joy inside, that it’s difficult to remember that I was crying in a gazebo less than twenty-four hours ago.

  Christopher

  The sound of Maggie’s laughter warms my chest with love and pride.

  Yes, love.

  When you can’t be with the one you want, you tend to fantasize about their better qualities, build th
em up in your mind until it’s a standard no mere mortal could reach. But even with how much I pined for him this last month, Maggie is better than I remembered him. Smart, warm, natural, and confident. And while there are a good number of things about which I am quite confident; my own humanity, my own sexuality, has always been a soft spot.

  Having him back in my life feels like it’s setting those things to rights. With a swell of gratitude, I lean in and kiss him. And keep kissing him. Kissing and kissing and kissing until he smiles against my lips and pulls back ever so slightly.

  “What’s that for?” he asks, grinning.

  “Does there have to be a reason?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but I’ve got a feeling there’s something behind these kisses.”

  I kiss him again, and one more time just to be sure. “You being you helps me to be me. And I didn’t think I’d ever be able to have that.”

  He kisses me back, pushing me down to the bed. “I want you inside of me.”

  I wince. I haven’t slept well or kept up with any of my physical therapy this entire month, and frankly my entire body hurts. In a good way, but I suspect I’ll lock up if I try to go at him now.

  He holds a finger to my lips. “Would it be better if we stayed in this position and I just rode you on top?”

  I swallow, not sure why emotion is showing up right now, and wordlessly nod my head. He kisses me one more time and reaches for the drawer. I put my hand out and stop him.

  “Will you first help me take a shower? I’d feel a hell of a lot better dirtying you up if I weren’t some stinky old man.”

  Maggie hovers over me, just like that first time we were together. “Shower, yes, and stop calling yourself old. I can barely keep up with you.”

  When Maggie pulls back the shower curtain, my face flames red because I forgot about the hinged bench installed on the shower wall, which flips down over the tub and allows me to shower while seated. He sees my reaction and shakes his head, thunking me in the middle of my forehead.