Normal Enough

by Marie Sexton

  Just like Kasey. Except cancer had stolen his mother when he needed her most.

  He was relieved when their food came. It seemed like a natural cue to change the subject. For a minute, they were occupied with loading pizza onto their plates. But then Brandon asked quietly, “Will you tell me about your car thing? Do you know why they affect you the way they do?”

  “It’s embarrassing.” Kasey used his straw to stir the ice in his Coke rather than meet Brandon’s eyes. “I mean, what kind of person gets turned on by a car?”

  “You tell me,” Brandon said. “What kind of person gets turned on by a car? I’m curious.”

  He was smiling. Kasey could tell that without even looking at him. And so, between bites of pizza and sips of Coke, Kasey told him about the magazines. About hiding from his brothers and his dad in the broken-down cars. About his realization that men turned him on more than women.

  “And with five people and one bathroom, it was the only place I had any privacy for… you know. So, I’d do it in the cars. All the time. And I guess at some point, the porn and the cars and the feeling of getting off all got mixed up in my mind.”

  And when he said it that way, it didn’t sound so ridiculous.

  Brandon reached across the table and brushed his finger over the back of Kasey’s hand. It was a subtle gesture, yet incredibly intimate. It made Kasey’s pulse race. “That’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard. If we weren’t in this restaurant, I’d be tearing your clothes off right now.”

  Kasey laughed, embarrassed, but the comment pleased him as well. Still, he couldn’t get past the idea it was wrong. “It’s not normal.”

  “Normal enough for me, if that matters to you at all. I’m not saying it should. But what does ‘normal’ even mean, anyway?”

  “It means not being turned on by cars.”

  Brandon pushed his plate away and leaned his elbows on the table. “I dated a guy for three years who could only get it up if I wore a bright yellow rain slicker.”

  Kasey raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re making that up.”

  “I’m not, I swear to God. His favorite was a fireman coat, but any yellow slicker would do. I had a closet full of them by the time we parted ways.” He finished his beer and signaled to the waiter for another before going on. “I dated a guy for a while who was into feet. Never fucked me the proper way. Only cared about my feet. The thing is, he was hot, and I liked seeing him so turned on, but he wasn’t much for reciprocation, if you know what I mean.

  “I dated another guy who liked me to wear a hockey mask during sex. In his case, it really was object sexualization. He’d fuck the mask if I wasn’t around or wasn’t in the mood. We broke up, but not because of the sex. Another of my exes got off on Shibari knotwork. It’s pretty and all, but it takes ages, and I’m not that patient.” He stopped for a moment, thinking. “Oh. And I tried dating a guy with a food fetish, but that was a short-lived venture.” He grinned at Kasey, looking embarrassed for the first time. “It turns out I have an aversion to being sticky.”

  “You can’t possibly have dated so many weirdos.”

  “I didn’t consider any of them weirdos, any more than I consider you one. And I’m not making it up, either. The thing is, I don’t really have a fetish myself, but I find fetishes incredibly hot.”

  The words should have made Kasey feel better, but instead, they triggered some new anxiety. He suddenly felt himself to be in competition with every one of those other men. “I guess you have a fetish for fetishes?” he offered weakly.

  Brandon laughed. “I guess you could say that.” His smiled turned flirtatious. “But meeting you is like fate. You get off on classic muscle cars. And here I am, with a collection of them. Your fetish dovetails with my interests so perfectly.” He leaned a little closer. “It’s like we were meant to be.”

  Kasey swallowed, his thoughts a jumble. Brandon’s last sentence had been said with a hint of humor. But there was a note of earnestness there as well.

  “So in other words, I may be a freak, but you like it?”

  “Let’s just say, I think you’re abnormal in the best possible way.”

  ONCE AGAIN, they ended up talking for hours. At ten thirty, they were the only patrons left in the restaurant, and the staff was beginning to scowl.

  It was easy to talk to Brandon, mostly because he asked questions, and he always listened intently to the answers. He was good at drawing Kasey out of his shell. Kasey found he didn’t mind the man’s curiosity. What he did mind, though, was the way thoughts of Brandon’s past lovers kept surfacing in his mind.

  It wasn’t as if he’d thought Brandon was a near virgin, like himself. It wasn’t even the number or the fact Brandon talked about them so openly. The truth was, Kasey couldn’t say why those men bothered him. He only knew they did.

  The parking lot was dark and empty, with only his car and Brandon’s left. Tonight, Brandon had driven a Cougar. Kasey guessed it to be a ’67. It was dark green and in good condition, although not mint.

  “I don’t drive the others much,” Brandon said, as they drew near. “This is one of my everyday cars.”

  “She’s fantastic.” Kasey ran his hand over the fender and up to her roof. From a collector’s point of view, it was a lesser car than the others in Brandon’s collection, because it wasn’t rare, but in Kasey’s eyes, she was far superior. His dad had owned one much like it, although without an engine. Kasey remembered many afternoons spent in that car’s musty interior. His heart pounded at the thought of being inside this one. She’d be more arousing than either the Chevelle or the GTO, and that was saying a lot. He didn’t allow himself a glance through the windows. The thought of what might happen between him and Brandon on those leather seats made him both nervous and aroused.

  Instead, he leaned against the car and looked up at Brandon, unsure what to expect. Their first kiss was still fresh in his mind. He remembered the warmth of Brandon’s lips. He wanted to taste him again, but he was too shy to make the move.

  Brandon reached out and took his hand as he stepped closer. He brushed the backs of his fingers down Kasey’s cheek. “I wish I could invite you over tonight.”

  Kasey’s heart sank. He hadn’t been sure that was what he wanted until now. “You can’t?”

  Brandon smiled. “I could, I suppose. But I have to be up at four to catch a 6:00 a.m. flight. I know if you’re there, we won’t waste our time sleeping.” He wrapped his arm around Kasey’s waist and drew him close. “As much as I’d love to spend the night with you, I’d rather do it on a night when I won’t regret it in the morning.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Texas. For work. I’ll be there all week.” He kissed Kasey’s jaw. “I’ll be thinking about you the whole time.” He nibbled at Kasey’s ear, making him shiver. “Tell me you’ll think about me too.”

  “I will.”

  Brandon laughed but pulled back far enough to meet Kasey’s eyes. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

  It was only because Kasey hated him to leave when they were so close to something great. Despite Brandon’s words, it was entirely possible he’d forget all about Kasey by the time he came home, and Kasey feared he’d miss his chance at….

  At what?

  He wasn’t sure, but being with Brandon felt good and natural and exciting. “I wish you weren’t going,” he finally said. “I don’t want this to end.”

  “End?” Brandon cupped Kasey’s cheek in his hand and forced him to meet his teasing gaze. “Honey, I told you I intend to fuck you in one of my cars, and that hasn’t changed. Don’t think for a minute I’m letting you off the hook.”

  He was teasing. Mostly, at least. Still, Kasey wished his reassurance had been more heartfelt. “When will you be home?” He wished he could take the words back. He hated how anxious and pathetic he sounded.

  “Friday.”

  Kasey’s disappointment must have shown on his face because Brandon suddenly stepped back
and said, “I have an idea.” He held his hand out to Kasey. “Give me your keys.”

  “What?”

  “Your car keys. Give them to me.”

  Kasey fished them out of his pocket and dropped them into Brandon’s hand.

  “A Civic?” Brandon said as he started to remove the car key from the ring. “That’s not what I expected.”

  “It’s cheap and reliable.” And it didn’t cause him to pop wood every time he got behind the wheel.

  “Fair enough.” Brandon pocketed Kasey’s key, then took out his own key ring and began working one free. “Is there anything in your car you need? Nametag for work? A jacket? Your favorite travel mug?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Brandon put his own key onto Kasey’s ring, then dropped the entire set back in Kasey’s hands. He gestured to the Cougar. “She’s yours for the week.”

  Kasey could only stare dumbly at the keys in his hand. Brandon actually wanted to trade cars? “But—”

  Brandon moved close again, cornering Kasey against the Cougar’s cold metal body. “This way, I know you’ll be thinking about me. At least part of the time.”

  The thought of driving the car made Kasey’s knees wobble. It made his blood roar in his veins. “Whenever I drive it.”

  “And whenever you get yourself off in it.”

  Kasey moaned at the thought. “I shouldn’t.”

  Brandon nodded, pushing harder against him, leaning in for a kiss. “Oh, you most definitely should.”

  Their first kiss had been gentle and soft. This kiss was anything but. It was fueled by urgency. Brandon pushed his tongue past Kasey’s lips, plunging into his mouth. His pelvis held Kasey pinned to the car. Kasey felt as if Brandon was claiming him, and he surrendered himself completely. He clung to Brandon, gasping and grinding, wondering wildly if they could get each other off right here, standing in an empty parking lot, with Brandon’s Cougar solid behind him.

  When Brandon finally let him go, they were both breathless.

  “I really do want you to spend the night,” Brandon whispered against his damp lips. “Will you give me a rain check?”

  Kasey nodded, smiling at the thought. “Yes.”

  Chapter 3

  THE NEXT week seemed to last forever, and although Kasey did indeed think of Brandon often, his excitement was tempered by some small dreadful thoughts, never fully formed or realized, that nibbled bit by bit at his confidence.

  He liked Brandon. They’d had fun at dinner. Brandon was cute and nice and easy to talk to. Still, Kasey worried he was staking a lot of happiness on a relationship that didn’t exist. After all, what did he really know about Brandon anyway? The man liked sex. He liked cars. He’d had more boyfriends than Kasey would probably have in his entire life. And he fully intended to take Kasey home and fuck him, as soon as circumstances allowed.

  Despite his growing unease, Kasey looked forward to it. That night in the GTO, as he’d jerked off with Brandon watching, he’d let go in a way he’d never done before. He’d given in to his fetish, let himself sink into his pleasure, and for once, he hadn’t emerged feeling dirty or perverse. He’d felt sexy and flirtatious, and after his orgasm, utterly sated and at ease. He couldn’t wait to feel those things again.

  But he also feared that the sooner it happened, the sooner his newfound happiness would be taken away.

  He masturbated in the Cougar a couple of times. As he’d expected, the car turned him on more than any of the others. It was because she wasn’t so perfectly clean and mint. Her seats showed a bit of wear. Her dash didn’t shine. She smelled faintly of oil and dirt. Driving her to and from work each day left him uncomfortably aroused. On more than one occasion, he gave in. He crept out to the car in the wee hours of the night and lost himself in the memory of glossy pages and musty smells. He imagined Brandon watching. He imagined Brandon masturbating as well.

  He counted the days until it could happen.

  “What’s going on with you, kid?” Tony asked him on Thursday afternoon, as they finished rebuilding the transmission on a 1980 Corvette. Kasey was wiping down the car, making sure they left her clean, while Tony put away their tools.

  “Nothing. Why?”

  Tony smiled and shook his head. “I see you driving that car. I know what’s going on.”

  Kasey couldn’t meet the man’s eyes. “Oh?”

  “You’re finally getting some action, kid.”

  Kasey stayed hidden behind the lifted hood. “It’s not like that.” Not yet, at any rate.

  “You don’t have to lie to me. You think I care you’re into guys? Because I’ll tell you, I don’t care if you’re getting pussy or cock. As long as you’re getting laid, I’m happy.”

  Tony’s crudeness made him laugh. “Why should it matter to you?”

  “Because I worried for a while that you only got off on cars.”

  Kasey’s heart kicked into overdrive. How did Tony know? “Excuse me?”

  “I just mean you’re always here, working. I never see you have any fun.”

  Kasey relaxed, realizing the innocence of Tony’s statement. Tony didn’t know how close to the mark he’d come. He didn’t know about Kasey’s fetish.

  “But,” Tony went on, pointing a wrench at Kasey, “now you’re seeing that rich dude, I know you like fucking, like the rest of us. Means you’re normal.” He laughed. “Normal as any red-blooded American male, anyway, which is normal enough in my book.”

  Normal enough. Kasey’s heart swelled at the thought.

  “Hey, how about that beer tonight? I’m buying.”

  Kasey opened his mouth, ready to say no like he always did, but he stopped short. All these years, Tony had been making overtures of friendship. Kasey hadn’t wanted to expose himself or risk having Tony learn his secrets. Yet suddenly, it didn’t matter. Tony already knew he was gay and didn’t care. And how would he possibly find out about the car fetish? Even if he did, maybe he wouldn’t care about that either.

  And the truth was, the idea of having a friend was nice. He suddenly couldn’t quite remember why he’d avoided it all these years.

  “Okay.”

  Tony’s eyes widened in surprise. His smile spread across his face. “Really? Just like that? After three years, you’re finally taking me up on it?”

  “Sure. Sounds like fun.” And it did.

  Not only that, it sounded normal.

  And as if to prove going out for beers was second only to sex in the book of “red-blooded American male” activities, Tony took him to Hooters. Kasey had never been there and found he couldn’t even look at the waitress as he ordered his beer. Tony watched the girl saunter away and then laughed. “Sorry, mate. No men for you to ogle, I guess.”

  In the past, a comment like that might have made him blush and squirm in embarrassment. His cheeks still burned a little, but he found himself smiling. “We could go to the leather club down the road instead.”

  He was joking—he’d never be brave enough to go into a place like that—and he was glad when Tony laughed. “That sounds like a good place for me to get my ass kicked. No, thank you.”

  “Maybe they’d like you.”

  “Sure, they would. Turn the straight man queer, right? It’s on every gay man’s bucket list. I heard it from some skinhead I went to school with, so it must be true.”

  Now it was Kasey’s turn to laugh. “I guess nobody gave me the memo.”

  The waitress brought their beers, and this time, Kasey let himself look. She was young. Pretty, he supposed, with the requisite rack stretching her T-shirt and a tired smile straining her face.

  “Too skinny,” Tony said, when she walked away. “And way too damn young. Now that one?” He pointed with his beer bottle to a table across the room. “That one I like.”

  “The one with her husband?” She appeared to be in her midthirties, and although she’d never qualify as overweight, she wasn’t as tiny as their waitress was, by any means. “She looks like a mom.”

 
; “Exactly. They don’t call them MILFs for nothing, you know. And I bet she could teach us both a thing or two.”

  Kasey laughed at the absurdity of it. “So you brought me to Hooters to lust after customers instead of the waitresses. Isn’t that a bit backward?”

  “Eh. Whatever. The wings are good, and the beer’s cheap.” Tony leaned back and scratched his chest. “But mostly, I like to watch the people, you know? I mean, the couples on dates, even though this has to be the worst goddamn place in the world to bring a chick. That’s even more tasteless than bringing a gay guy. And the single guys too. Look at ’em.” He picked up his beer again and gestured toward the bar. “They actually think they’ll get laid if they tip well.”

  He pointed to a man on the end wearing jeans and a leather bomber jacket straight out of the eighties. “See Mr. Cool over there? He told me last week he plans to nail each and every waitress here. As if the girls can’t tell just by looking at him that he’s a sleazeball.”

  “It bothers you?”

  Tony shook his head and shrugged, as if he wasn’t sure which answer fit best. “I like sex as much as the next man, but that kind of guy gives the rest of us a bad name. Maybe it’s ’cause I had sisters and I saw them dealing with asshole men. I don’t know. Plus, I knew a guy like that in high school. He lived around the block from me. Not exactly a friend, but we were in the same grade and seemed to end up in the same place at the same time a lot, if you know what I mean.” He stopped long enough to take a long drink of his beer. “Anyway, this guy, he had a list of chicks he planned to nail, and he went down it like Santa Claus with his naughty-and-nice list, marking them off. Cheerleader? Check. Prom queen? Check. Class president? Check. And the bigger the challenge, the more he got off on it. He’d spend months pursuing some of these girls, convincing them he liked them. But the minute they let him into their pants, he’d cross them off the list and move on.” He took another swig of his beer and then slammed the empty bottle noisily to the table. “He was an asshole. Tried it once on my baby sister too, but I kicked his ass for that one.”