by F M Land
I sat bolt upright at that, knocking Ken’s hand from my shoulder. “Pregnant?”
“Yes, yes. I have a five-year-old daughter. Her name is Angela.”
“Angela,” I echoed softly. I studied Ken’s face, trying to imagine what it must be like to be a father.
“Angela,” Ken repeated, his eyes on mine. “I met Gerald during my general medical residency, my first year out of medical school. He was a patient on my service. I got into stopping by to visit him because I belong to the Orchestra Society. Don’t laugh!” he warned, with mock sternness. “Gerald got better and was discharged. But, the next year, when I was doing the first year of my hematology internship, he was a patient on the experimental ward.” He stopped for a moment, ran his hand across his eyes, and asked, “Do you really want to hear this?”
I nodded. “Yes! Please? Does it bother you to talk about it?”
“No, I just don’t want to bore you.”
“Bore me? This is fascinating! You are fascinating!”
Ken gazed into my eyes with a renewed intensity. He moved his fingers to my neck and let his skin rest on mine. “Well, I started visiting Gerald every day. Even when I was off, I’d come to the hospital on some pretense, just to see Gerald. Shit, I began to think about him all the time. When he was discharged, I would meet him after concerts and walk him home. One night, we stayed up all night, talking. Boy, was Mary Ellen pissed off when I got home the next morning!
“And, you know, it was Mary Ellen who saw it first. She said, ‘What are you, in love with this guy or something?’” He chuckled again and began stroking my neck softly. “And then I realized that, hey, maybe I am in love with Gerald. Then I began to panic. Really panic!”
“Afraid that you were gay?” I asked, with a snort.
“Exactly. Afraid that something terrible was wrong with me. I thought about talking to a priest, but I went to Gabe Edgeworth instead.”
“Gabe?” I wrinkled my forehead, trying to imagine why anyone would go talk to Dad’s old friend, Gabe Edgeworth.
Ken nodded. “Yeh, every medical student at Columbia comes to love and trust Gabe. He’s a cool guy. I went to him with my fear that I might be homosexual, and guess what he told me?” He smiled when I shrugged. “He told me to talk to Dizzy Koster about it. Now, Dizzy was a senior medical student at the time, doing his elective in psychiatry. Gabe told me that Dizzy had a handle on such matters.”
“Dizzy?” I laughed hard at that one. “You believed Gabe?”
Laughing, too, Ken nodded again. “Yes, can you believe it? Actually, Dizzy is a good listener, and he really was trying to come to terms with you, Paul. With Dizzy, I worked out a plan of attack. First, I told my wife that I needed some space from our marriage. I didn’t tell her about my being gay, or that I wanted to end our marriage. And I moved in here, with Dizzy.”
“Really?” I thought for a moment. “I must have been in France at the time.”
“You were.” His fingers continued to stoke my face and the base of my head. “Anyway, I met Gerald one night after a concert and walked him home. He lived in the West 60’s. When it got late, Gerald remarked that I should call my wife so I wouldn’t get in trouble with her again. I told him then that I’d left her and why.”
“And?” I was incredibly aroused at that point. I was tempted to snatch Ken’s hand from my face and kiss it.
“And so I stayed the night. And, by the time you got back from France, I had moved out of Dizzy’s and into Gerald’s.” He smiled into my eyes.
I exhaled loudly. “Wow!” I breathed.
“Yeh, Gerald was quite a fellow. He opened me up to a lot of things.” Ken looked really sad at that.
“I’m really sorry, Ken.” I thought about Brian then, and about how Jeff missed Brian. I felt tears queuing up behind my eyelids. My lips quivered uncontrollably. I tried desperately to think of something to say. “Do you miss it?” I blurted out. “Do you miss being straight?”
Ken took a deep breath, struggling to regain his composure. With his free hand, he wiped tears from his cheeks. He nodded. “I miss not seeing my daughter every day. I miss all the privileges that come with being a heterosexual. Sure, I miss a lot of things. But, when I feel the way I do right now, sitting here with you, I’m glad that I’m gay.”
Placing both my hands on Ken’s shoulders, I informed him with a grave intensity, “I want to kiss you.”
“Do it,” Ken responded, his eyes on mine.
I pressed my mouth to Ken’s then. The first, quick experimental kiss was followed by several longer, deeper ones. Each successive kiss sent my head spiraling out of control. I pressed harder, more fiercely against Ken’s mouth, until I was breathless. Gasping, I jerked my face from Ken’s. For a long moment, I studied Ken’s eyes. Then I spoke. “I’ve never been with a woman before,” I told Ken.
Ken looked puzzled. He seemed to be waiting for an explanation.
Shrugging, I moved my face close to Ken’s. “I just wanted you to know.”
“Thanks.” Ken chuckled, then swept me to himself, embracing me tightly.
Our kisses after that offered promises of things to come. I promise to make it very good for you, Ken’s mouth seemed to be telling me. I promise to make you moan, I promise to make you scream. I took all these promises from Ken’s tongue. And I returned some promises of my own. My stomach full of fire, I had my tongue halfway down Ken’s throat when Dizzy entered the living room.
Dizzy smiled broadly at us, as if finding us panting all over each other was exactly what he expected us to be doing. He was carrying a tray laden with bowls of ice cream. “Hagendaz,” he told us. “Anybody want coffee?”
“I do!” I replied.
Ken shook his head. “I’ll have more wine, if you have it.” Then he kissed me once more for good measure.
We chatted politely with Dizzy for a while after that. I was no longer feeling as shy as I had during dinner. But, I was hot to get out of there, to be alone with Ken. When Dizzy yawned and remarked that he was on call the next day, Ken took his cue, to my relief.
“I should be going,” he told Dizzy softly. “You need to get some sleep.”
Dizzy nodded and smiled affectionately at him. “You’ll need a ride home, remember? I drove you down here.” He raised his somber gray eyes to mine.
“Sure!” I responded. I jumped to my feet, relieved to be moving. “I can drive you home, Ken.”
Ken began to gather our bowls. “Sure, but let’s help Dizzy clean up a bit.”
“Forget it,” Dizzy told him. “Get out of here!”
And get out of there we did. All the drive up the West Side Highway we chatted like we’d known each other for years. We sat in the car in front of Ken’s building, still talking up a storm. I fervently hoped Ken would invite me in. Suddenly, our conversation stopped, as if we’d run out of things to say.
Ken leaned towards me, his eye contact intense. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t want to go.”
The heavy eye contact again. “Good.”
“Yes.”
“Let me show you where to park. We can’t leave your Jag on the street.”
Soon we were alone in Ken’s apartment. Like everything else about Ken, it was neat and beautifully furnished. Curiously, I looked around the living room. There were photos of Gerald Pace everywhere.
Ken came up behind me. “Let me take your jacket,” he said softly. He started to take off my jacket but ended up embracing me instead, trapping my arms in my half-on, half-off jacket. Ken’s mouth on mine was ravenous, pressing and pressing, for more excitement, for deeper passion.
I let Ken drink pleasure from my mouth for several minutes before I pulled my face away from his. I struggled out of my jacket and handed it to Ken.
Recovering himself slightly, Ken hung my jacket and his own coat in the closet. Then he turned back to me. “Can I offer you something?”
My eyes on Ken’s, I shook my head. “Only your gorgeous
body. I want to take off your clothes.” It occurred to me then: AIDS. Did Ken have AIDS? Suddenly I wished I had a handful of condoms in my pocket.
Ken whisked me into his bedroom. It, too, was picture perfect, as if no one ever slept in there. Very quickly I set about unbuttoning Ken’s shirt. If I hadn’t been in such a hurry, I would have spent more time admiring Ken’s well-muscled shoulders and chest. I smiled radiantly at Ken, which he took as an invitation for a kiss.
Our kisses were powerful. I felt hungrier with each one. At one point, after a dozen or so non-stop kisses, Ken gasped and stepped away. I studied his face anxiously, a bit startled.
“Wow, I’m about to come in my shorts!” Ken told me, shaking his head. “You have me so aroused!”
“Mmm,” I replied, and I began to unfasten Ken’s khakis. Within moments, I had Ken’s zizi in my hands. And it was incredible. It was huge. Long and thick. It was a club. I wanted it. “God,” I moaned. “And I thought I was hung!”
“Let me see!” Ken cried, his hands working deftly at the front of my jeans. “You are hung!” Ken told me, as he ran his fingers down the length of my taut zizi.
I tore my teeshirt off then. “I don’t compare with you!” With that, I pulled Ken close and felt Ken’s erection pressing against my hip. Then I thought about AIDS again. “Do you have AIDS?” I blurted.
Ken studied my face, alarm in his eyes. “No, I’m not HIV-positive, are you?” When I shook my head, he asked, “Do you have a lot of lovers?”
“No. I’ve only been with six men in my entire life, and only one man in the past three years.”
Ken’s hands moved to cup my testicles. A wandering finger touched the ring Terry had placed there. Ken groped around, trying to figure out what it was. His eyes met mine. “Is this from your lover?”
I nodded. Suddenly I was fearful of where our talk was heading.
“Are you still with him?”
Looking away, I hesitated. I felt a need to be honest with Ken. I faced Ken squarely. “Not really. We haven’t been together in months. He’s in another relationship.” Well, I consoled myself, it was almost the truth. Terry and I hadn’t had a satisfying relationship since before Christmas.
“Is it Jade?”
Ken’s question made me laugh. “Jade? No!” I laughed again. “No, I haven’t been with Jade for nearly four years!”
Ken eyed me with respect. “Boy, you sure started early!” He sat down on the edge of his bed, kicked off his shoes and pants, then reached for a couple of condoms in a dish on his bed table.
“I was sixteen when I lost my virginity. To Brian Sokolov.” I was relieved that the conversation had shifted focus. I got out of my shoes, socks, and jeans quickly and sat down next to Ken on the bed.
“Yeh, well, let me tell you something,” Ken told me, in a tone that made me hold my breath. “I’m not terribly experienced. Gerald is the only man I’ve ever been with.”
“Yes?” I pulled Ken down on the bed then. I kissed him gently.
Ken was right. He was inexperienced. Even though he’d lived with Pace for nine months before Pace’s death, Pace had been very ill most of the time. Theirs was an almost platonic relationship, with a little fellatio thrown in. Mostly they masturbated each other.
That meant that Ken was a virgin when it came to anal sex. But, lying on my back, my knees bent back, I talked him through it. I guided Ken’s enormous zizi home and gasped at the feel of it. Within seconds, barely a kiss later, Ken lost it, thrusting and groaning through his orgasm. I almost lost it, too, but was left stranded on some high peak of pleasure. Ken rolled off me and tended to the played condom between his legs. In frustration, I grabbed my own zizi and began to tug at it in hard, rapid strokes.
“No, no, no,” Ken murmured, turning his attention back to me. “Let me take you there, okay?”
“Okay!” I gasped. “But, do it! Hurry!”
Ken smiled into my eyes, then reverently placed a condom over my throbbing zizi. The pressure of Ken’s hands nearly made me explode into orgasm. I tried to breathe slowly, taking huge breaths, to calm myself down. The K-Y felt cool, almost soothing, as Ken applied it generously to the condom. Then he lay back on the bed, mimicking my former position.
I shook my head. “It’ll be easier the first time on your knees. Come here.” I kissed Ken then and helped him roll over onto his knees. “Just relax,” I whispered. “It will sting at first, really burn. But, if you relax, it’s not so bad.” I spit on my finger, then began playing with Ken’s anus. Slowly, gently, I pushed my zizi into Ken.
The sensation seemed to take Ken by surprise. He stiffened and froze in position with his back arched high.
“Relax, Ken,” I reminded him. I reached around and gave his zizi a gentle squeeze. Immediately, I could feel Ken relax. “Good. How does it feel?”
“Okay,” Ken gasped. “Good. Yes, good. This is good,” he told me as I began to move rhythmically against him.
Soon I was lost amid a cascading pleasure that began in my crotch and intensified on the way to my brain. I almost called out Terry’s name, I was that lost. But I found my way back to Ken, and I kissed him, and thanked him, and told him how great it was. We kissed for a long time after that, before drifting off to sleep.
It seemed to me that I had barely shut my eyes when morning arrived. In the early morning darkness, Ken worked me into a frenzy with his mouth, then pounced on me, condomless, and rode me until we were both gasping with pleasure. Ken was a fast learner and a magnificent lover. I told him so. Ken smiled.
Then I remembered my upcoming trip to California. I hugged Ken to myself for a long moment before letting him get out of bed. “Hey, I’m leaving for Los Angeles on Sunday.”
Ken nodded. “Yeh, I remember. You’ll be gone for how long?”
Shrugging, I replied, “Until the end of April, early May.”
“Shit.”
“Yeh.” I hesitated for a moment, then spoke with urgency, “I want to spend more time with you before I go.”
“Yeh,” Ken answered. “But I’ve got plans for tonight.”
“Change them.”
Ken stopped making the bed to look up at me. Our eyes met. “I’ll try. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. What about tomorrow?”
“I’ll be on call on Sunday. I need to sleep tomorrow night.”
I pulled a sulky face. It sounded to me like Ken was making excuses. “I’ll let you sleep, I promise. I want to be with you. What about tomorrow afternoon?” I grabbed Ken by the shoulders. “I want to hang out with you!”
We made plans to spend Saturday afternoon, but not Saturday night, together. And, before Ken stepped out of my car, right in front of the hospital, he kissed me quickly on the lips and promised to call later about getting together that night. I drove back to the Village in an absolute daze.
Jade and Daniel were still in bed when I floated into our apartment. It was early, barely 7 AM. I fixed a pot of coffee, lit a cigarette and, uncharacteristically, sat down to read the New York Times, determined to read it cover to cover. I imagined that Ken did that every day, read the Times front to back. I needed to be able to talk to Ken, on Ken’s level. I wanted to be interesting, engaging, and so, so, so well-read.
Around 7:30, Dad called. I was expecting his call, actually.
“Paulie,” he crooned. “Good morning!”
“ ‘morning,” I grunted.
“How was the young doctor last night? How did you two get on?”
I smiled to myself. My father was really pretty predictable. “Great, Dad. We got it on just great, are you happy? We had a wonderful night together. I’m still goosebumps from it all.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously! I only wish I weren’t going to California on Sunday. Fuck! I really want to stay in town now.”
Dad was silent for a moment. “Seems like you’ve made a commitment to Robbie.”
“Yeh.”
“Well, if it’s meant to be, it’s
meant to be.”
“Yeh.”
Jade came into the kitchen during my phone conversation with Dad. Smiling sleepily at me, he headed for the coffee pot. He poured himself a cup then sat down across the table from me. He waited for me to hang up the receiver before he spoke. “Reading my Times? I’m seeing a whole new side of you, Paulie!”
“Fuck you!” I replied, with a great deal of affection.
“This doctor friend of Dizzy’s is sure having a positive effect on you! You look radiant this morning! Look at yourself!” He held a stainless pot cover in front of my face.
Before I could respond, Daniel glided into the room. He kissed Jade, then moved to the coffee pot.
“Paul made coffee this morning,” Jade told Daniel. “And, look! Now he’s reading the Times!”
I made a face, then changed the subject. “Did you ever fuck a virgin before?” I asked them.
My question made Daniel hoot with laughter. “Your father,” he answered merrily, “among others.”
Jade shrugged, not amused by Daniel’s remark.
“God, Ken was fresh last night! Real fresh! And was he packing a schlong! Bigger than Jeff’s!”
“No way!” Daniel, who was tremendously impressed with the size of Jeff’s zizi, cried.
The phone rang then. It was Ken, calling to invite me up to dinner that evening. And out dancing with some friends, later. I agreed eagerly to do whatever Ken wanted to do. I wanted more of that man. I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted Ken with a crazy desperation that almost scared me.
Davy (1989)
We almost never got around to dinner that night. The moment Ken whisked very nervous me into his spotless foyer, we were on each other. At first we just gazed at each other, hungry-like. Then Ken reached out to touch my cheek, and it was all over, the waiting. In one quick movement, I had Ken’s pants down to his knees. I knelt on the floor and nibbled at Ken’s club until Ken began to groan and thrust into my mouth. Hard.
