Love on Site

by Plakcy, Neil

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll catch up on my beauty sleep.” I dozed off and didn’t wake again until eleven o’clock. Sitting up in bed, I looked around the room, as I hadn’t paid much attention to it the night before. Besides the king-size bed, the room contained a desk in some kind of faux Chippendale, a pair of side chairs, and a small table between them.

  I was starving, so I took a quick shower, threw on some shorts and a T-shirt, and walked two blocks to downtown Naples, sticking to the shady side of the street. Fifth Street was charming, two-story buildings showcasing quirky shops and cute little cafés. I found a place to get a sandwich, then ducked in and out of boutiques. I bought nothing more than a couple of postcards.

  When I got back to the hotel, I went down to the pool, swam a couple of laps, then relaxed in the shade of a big umbrella and read for a while. I showered and dressed for dinner, and was waiting for Walter when he came back to the room. “How was your seminar?” I asked.

  “Long and boring. Worse because I wanted to be up here with you.” He smiled. “But I did get a good recommendation for dinner. Nice restaurant right on the beach, at one of the hotels.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I made a reservation for six, so we have to get moving.”

  Was I disappointed we weren’t jumping back into bed? Yes. But the thought of a romantic dinner with Walter made up for it. We sat at a booth right on the water, with tall, gauzy curtains pulled back and sliding glass doors open to the cool, humid breeze. There was plenty of space between the tables, allowing us to have a feeling of intimacy.

  I let Walter take the lead in ordering for me; I didn’t think I’d ever been in such an elegant restaurant.

  After the waiter left, I said to Walter, “I’m guessing I’m not the first guy you’ve been with.”

  “Nearly so,” he said. “But my sexual life started with Chucho. My best friend in high school. We ran cross-country together, and we were always fooling around in the locker room. One day we were in the shower, just the two of us, after a meet, and he grabbed my dick.” He looked out the window toward the ocean, vast and unknowable.

  When he turned back to me, he was rubbing a tear from his eye. “Let’s say things went on from there. Chucho told me that we weren’t really gay—we were friends having some fun together.”

  “And you believed him because you were, what, sixteen?”

  “Seventeen. And yeah, I did. We were both having sex with girls, and it was easy to go along with him that way. Then we graduated from high school, and I went to college, and Chucho went to work for his uncle, selling mobile phones to Latin America. He was on the road a lot, and I was busy with school, and we didn’t get together much.”

  The waiter returned with our cocktails and a wire basket filled with all different kinds of bread and breadsticks. I lifted my glass to his in a toast to us, and we clinked. We busied ourselves with the bread and butter until Walter picked up the thread of his story.

  “Out of the blue one day, Chucho called and told me he was getting married, and he wanted me to be his best man.”

  He turned back to the window. “I told him that I couldn’t believe he was getting married. That didn’t he realize we were both gay, and that I loved him.” He sighed. “He laughed at me. He said he didn’t love me—just loved getting his dick sucked and didn’t care who did it.”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t stand up at his wedding,” I said.

  “You’re guessing correctly. Chucho and his wife went to the back country in Colombia for their honeymoon, where her family was from. He caught some kind of bacterial infection, and by the time they got home, he had to be hospitalized.”

  There was a slight hiccup in his voice that cued me there was not going to be a happy ending to this story.

  “The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong for a while. I heard through the grapevine that Chucho was at Baptist, really sick. I went to see him.”

  He used the paper napkin from beneath his drink to blow his nose. “He’d lost so much weight; he looked like a cadaver. He had an oxygen tube in his nose, lines running into his arm, a catheter connected to his dick. He wasn’t even conscious most of the time I was there. It really shook me up.”

  “Must have been hard.” I wanted to reach over and take Walter’s hand, but I didn’t know how he’d react. We were in a very public place, after all.

  “That wasn’t even the hard part,” Walter said. “He died a week later, and that’s when I heard the truth. He had AIDS—that’s why the infection hit him so hard.”

  “Oh man,” I said.

  “There was a huge shit storm. Chucho’s family wouldn’t even go to the funeral. His parents were completely devastated. By then I had graduated from UM, and I was working for a big national company that managed commercial real estate.”

  He sighed. “I met Dolores, and I decided what happened to Chucho was never going to happen to me. We dated for a while, and then I got offered a promotion—but to take it, I’d have to move to Philadelphia.”

  Our shared appetizer arrived—crab wontons made up like little winged birds, which we dipped in a spicy sauce. I loved the way they crackled on my tongue, with the surprise of the creamy crab inside.

  “Dolores didn’t want to leave Miami,” Walter continued. “So Heriberto—that’s her father—came to me with a proposition. He’d set me up in business if I’d agree to stay here. It was unspoken that the offer was only on the table if I married his daughter.”

  “Still—if you wanted to marry her, it was a good deal.”

  “Yeah, but it turned out to be a prison. Heriberto gave me some cash, which I used as a down payment on a couple of commercial buildings. I fixed them up and flipped them. This was back when the market was strong. Did that a couple of times, and then I found the property we’re building on for sale.”

  He polished off the last wonton. “It took more money than Heriberto could come up with to fund what I wanted to do, so I went to this guy I went to school with, Sal Remedios. He helped me put together a limited partnership and got the bank where he worked to loan the partnership what I needed, with Heriberto’s money as the foundation.”

  A pair of waiters appeared—one to take away the empty appetizer platter, and another to deliver our entrées, snapper en papillote. When the waiter ripped open the parchment bag around the fish, the aroma of shallots and tomatoes rushed out.

  “So you see,” Walter said as we ate, “how I’m stuck right now. I can’t refinance the loan with Sal without Heriberto’s cash. And I can’t completely walk away from Dolores until I’ve disentangled myself from her father.”

  “But the problem will go away eventually, right?” I asked. “You’ll get the warehouses leased and you can refinance.”

  “Or sell,” he said. “I’m a developer, not a manager. I’ll need to cash out of this project in order to start the next one.”

  Yet another reason to admire Walter Loredo. Even in the midst of a personal crisis, he was looking forward to the next project.

  Over dessert, we talked about me, though there wasn’t much I hadn’t already said. “You have a Chucho?” Walter asked.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t have sex until I was at FU,” I said. “I didn’t know anybody else who was gay, and even then I sort of knew that I liked older guys.”

  “Not that much older, I hope,” he said.

  I shook my head. “When I was at FU, I dated this forty-something guy for a while, a construction manager for a building on campus.”

  “Dated?” Walter asked, holding a spoonful of chocolate mousse that I wished he could feed to me.

  “Well, mostly we just fucked,” I said, in a low voice to be sure no one around us would hear. “In the trailer. After all the contractors had gone home.”

  Walter laughed and shook his head. “You can’t tell me things like that. At least not while we’re in public.”

  I leaned over the table, close to him. “What�
��s the matter, Walter? Is that something you want to do with me? Lean me up against the plan table, kiss my neck, stick your—”

  “Stop!” he said. “Wait until we get back to the room.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I’ll be happy to obey you.”

  He groaned and waved his hand toward the waiter for the check. He’d left the car with the valet or I think he might have had his way with me in the parking lot. He was that horny. And so, of course, was I.

  But we waited. He drove us the couple of miles back to the hotel, parked in the lot, and walked inside with me. Neither of us said anything in the elevator or in the hallway. Once we were inside the room, though, he said, “You are such a tease! If you weren’t so absolutely adorable, I’d…”

  “You’d what?” I said, moving close to him. I rubbed my groin against his. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

  “I want to fuck you so well you’ll never consider anyone else but me. I want to make you mine forever.”

  He kissed me with such passion and intensity, I was reeling. I realized that all that time I had been lusting after Walter, he was feeling the same thing for me, and this coupling was just as awesome for him as for me.

  He pushed back a couple of inches so I couldn’t touch his dick, and he held my head with both his hands and pressed his lips against mine. My heart rate accelerated, and I had to breathe through my nose. I didn’t care; if it killed me, I wasn’t going to stop kissing Walter.

  He pulled away first. While I was still catching my breath, he had kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned his shirt, and dropped his pants to the floor. “Why are you still dressed?” he asked as he shimmied his briefs over his thighs. His dick jumped out, straight as a flagpole.

  I matched him for speed—tugged off my clothes and dropped them to the floor. When I was naked I hugged him, feeling the sweat prickling his smooth back, the heat of his dick against mine. I rubbed against him like a cat, arching my back and licking my lips. “I want you to fuck me,” I said, panting with lust. “I want to feel that big dick of yours up my ass. I want you to mark me as your territory. Tattoo your name on my dick. Hold on to me and never let me go.”

  “I can do everything but the tattooing,” he said, pulling my head back toward his mouth. He nibbled at my ear. “Sounds painful.”

  “I would walk through fire for you.” I released my hold on him and fell backward on the bed. I held up my legs and spread them. “But right now I just want you to fuck me. Please.”

  “Did you bring condoms?” he asked, hesitating above me. “I didn’t, because I didn’t know if we…”

  “The front compartment of my backpack,” I said, nodding toward it. He reached over there, and I closed my eyes and leaned back against the pillow. I heard the packet tearing.

  He raised my legs over his shoulders. My muscles strained as he said, “I want to be able to see your face as I enter you. You are so handsome.”

  I felt the cold, wet lube squirt up my ass. Quickly it warmed as he entered me with a finger, then two.

  I could barely catch my breath. I panted and heard myself whimper, “Fuck me, Walter. Please, please.”

  He plunged his thick, hard cock into me. There was a moment of pain, and then the most intense pleasure as his body connected with mine, his groin sliding against my ass. I looked up at his face, glazed with sweat, and felt warmth bubbling inside me. I opened up to welcome him in, and savored the connection of flesh to flesh.

  He couldn’t hold out for long, and suddenly he was howling like a wolf in heat as he made one last push up my chute. “You are so sexy, Manny,” he said, pulling out. His dick was still leaking cum as he leaned down and kissed me again. Then he slid down, took my dick in his mouth, and started sucking.

  His mouth was warm and wet, his tongue sandpapery against my tender flesh. His technique was already improving, and I disappointed myself by ejaculating too quickly. I wanted that sensation to last much longer.

  Walter swallowed every drop. Then he flopped down next to me, snaking one long, slim leg over mine, and sighed contentedly. “I thought what I had with Chucho was love,” he said after a while. “It wasn’t, of course—just teenaged lust. And while I could perform with Dolores, it never really satisfied me.”

  I turned to him and smiled. “Satisfied now?”

  He shook his head. “I want to do it all again. Just give me a couple of minutes to recharge my batteries.”

  I snuggled my head against his shoulder, and we were both asleep before we could do anything else.

  Sunday morning we woke together. “You know, the shower’s big enough for two,” he said. He reached over and twanged the morning wood I’d once again woken up with. “And we could take care of your little problem there too.”

  “I don’t consider it a problem.” I stood up and pointed it at him. “But if you do…”

  He reached for me, but I danced backward. I scampered into the bathroom, flipped up the seat on the toilet, and let loose a stream of urine. My dick was so hard that pissing hurt, but I had to have the relief.

  A moment later Walter was standing beside me, pissing too. I loved the way he held his dick in his fist to direct the stream—it seemed like such a macho thing to do. I usually just pointed and peed. He leaned over to me and kissed me on the lips as our streams faltered. “Kinky,” he said. “I like.”

  I reached down and flushed the toilet when we were finished. “Let’s see what else you like,” I said. I took his hand and led him to the shower.

  The water was almost instantly warm, and I stepped under the spray. Walter leaned against the back wall, watching me. “You’re not joining me?” I asked.

  “I’m just enjoying the show,” he said.

  I put one on for him. I raised one leg, soaped my groin carefully, pulling on my half-hard dick and licking my lips. Walter didn’t hold out for too long. He stepped up next to me, and I transferred some of the suds to his body. We kissed under the spray, humping each other, our bodies lubricated by the luxury soap.

  Suddenly he yelped, and cum spurted from his dick. “Lightweight,” I said.

  “I’ll show you who’s the lightweight,” he said, and he gripped my dick in his fist and began jerking me hard and fast until I felt like I was ready to dissolve in a puddle of skin and soapsuds and my orgasm rocketed through my body.

  I slumped against Walter. After he soaped me again, tenderly, we rinsed off and dried ourselves with the plush towels, embroidered with the hotel’s crest. We put on our bathing suits and went down to the lobby, where we grabbed some croissants and juice at the continental buffet. Then we went out to the pool.

  Walter dove in at the deep end, his body sleek as a porpoise’s. He surfaced, shaking the water from his head in an expression of pure joy. “Come on in,” he said.

  I started to back down the ladder, but he grabbed me and pulled me under with him, and the two of us frolicked in the pool for at least an hour. All G-rated, of course, because there were families and kids around us. Afterward, we lazed on beach chairs in the sun.

  Just before noon, we hopped out of the pool, took quick showers, and dressed, then checked out of the hotel. “You want to get some brunch before we head back across the state?” Walter asked.

  “Sure. I saw a place on our way to the restaurant last night.” I directed him to Rosie’s, in a strip mall on Route 41. The front window was decorated with lace curtains and a collection of little frogs. “Let’s look at the menu.” We scanned it, and I fell in love with the idea of French toast made of cinnamon rolls. “Can we eat here?”

  “Anything you want,” Walter said.

  The inside was as kitschy as the front window. Every table had a different cloth, a riot of gingham and checks, and none of the china matched. Cute sayings such as, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, sit by me” peppered the walls.

  “This place is so gay,” Walter muttered to me under his breath.

  “So are we,” I whispered back to him.

 
I ordered the French toast, which was as yummy as I expected. Walter enthused over his eggs, which had been cooked perfectly. I tried to stretch the meal out, delaying our inevitable return to Miami and real life.

  Looking back at all my past relationships, I realized what I’d felt had always been lust, never love. There was something very different now. Hero worship for sure—I didn’t just want to make love to Walter, I wanted to be just like him. Handsome and charming and capable and successful.

  We got back into the car and drove in silence until we reached the highway. By then I felt the burden of everything we weren’t saying weighing us down. “I can’t change the way I feel about you,” I said. “But I can hide it. For a while, at least.”

  “This is so fucked up,” he said. “I don’t want to have to hide. I want to tell the world about this. But I can’t do that yet.”

  “As long as you think you can in the future, I can wait.”

  He reached over and took my hand. “I promise you, as soon as this project is finished, and I’m free of Dolores and her father, things will be very different.”

  I squeezed his hand. “I’m with you, then. Loyal employee at work. Do you think we’ll be able to be together at all?”

  “Dolores has hired a private eye,” he said. “She thinks she can catch me screwing around with some other woman and use that to balance out her dalliance with the painter.”

  “You don’t think he followed us to Naples, do you?”

  He shook his head. “Back when Pepe and I made the arrangements, I told Dolores about this trip. She called Pepe and confirmed it. I know for a fact that he never told her that he had to back out. But I can’t have you spend time at my house. It’s too risky.”

  “Can you come to my apartment?” I asked. “It’s a big building, and nobody has to know who you’re visiting.”

  “We’ll have to see. But you know, we might both end up working late in the trailer when no one else is around…”

  He didn’t have to finish the sentence for me to know what was on his mind. I smiled and turned to face out the window. At first glance, the land seemed barren and unappealing. But if you looked closer, you could find tiny pockets of beauty that sustain whole lives.