by Drew Hunt
“Officer,” the pensioner spoke up again. “He called them various uh, names, said seeing them kissing made him feel sick.”
The security guard raised an eyebrow.
“Well, fuckin’ ‘ell, they should be locked up and fuckin’ castrated for bein’ out in—”
Paul attempted to lunge at the man again, but Trevor had anticipated him and held tight to his arm.
“That’s enough.” The security guard turned to Paul. “Sir, you should not have attacked this, uh, gentleman like tha—”
“No, he fuckin’ shouldn’t. I want the police calling. I’m gonna press charges,” the youth interjected.
“Certainly, sir,” the security guard, who must have been at least sixty, continued. “But when the case goes to court, do you want everyone to know that a gay man overpowered you and your mates? Also this gentleman,” he pointed to Paul, “Could press charges against you for what you said to him. My guess is that you wouldn’t get very far.”
“Fuckin’ ‘ell, this is—”
“Don’t make it worse, son. You and your mates go on home now and we’ll hear no more about it.” Turning to Paul and Trevor, “That all right with you two?”
“Yes,” Trevor said immediately. Paul was much slower in his agreement.
“Good, now scram.” The security guard turned his back on the three homophobes.
“I hope all this hasn’t spoiled your evening.”
“Uh, no,” Trevor lied.
* * * *
The ride home was made in silence. Trevor had no idea what was going on inside Paul’s head. Normally he’d fill such uneasy silences with talk, but what could he say? Was Paul breaking up with him over this? But, another voice counselled, he defended you, in public, how honourable was that?
“Paul?” Trevor eventually said. He hoped his voice wasn’t wavering.
“I’m sorry,” Paul loosened his death grip on the steering wheel. “That was quite a night, wasn’t it?”
Trevor nodded, but then realised Paul wouldn’t have seen the gesture. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry if all that made you uncomfortable. But I couldn’t let those bastards say those things. It’s not right.”
“I’m used to it. But I know, it’s not right.”
Paul pulled up outside Trevor’s house, but made no move to get out of the car.
“Won’t you come in for a bit?”
Paul sighed, but Trevor took the undoing of his seatbelt as agreement.
“You hungry?” Trevor asked, getting nervous at Paul’s quiet behaviour. “I could rustle you up some cheese on toast or—” The rest of his words were stopped by Paul crushing his lips to Trevor’s, his tongue demanding entrance into Trevor’s mouth.
Eventually withdrawing, Paul said, “I love you, Trevor Pierson. And I don’t care what you say, while ever I’m around, people aren’t gonna get away with calling you, us, names like that.”
Trevor felt a warmth spread through him. Paul had identified them as an us, a couple in front of strangers, hostile strangers, too. The last barrier fell away. Trevor had fallen.
“Please, take me to bed.”
Paul didn’t seem shocked by Trevor’s words, but pulled back and looked deep into his eyes. “You sure? ‘Cause this is for real, you know. Once we take this step as far as I’m concerned there’s no going back.”
Trevor swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Yes, I’m sure.” He dashed away the moisture that was beginning to pool in his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry at a time like this. Though tears might be appropriate, even warranted, he was determined not to come across as weak and overly-emotional.
* * * *
Trevor didn’t want to wake up. He had had such a wonderful dream. He imagined he’d finally succumbed to Paul’s unspoken requests and allowed him to take him to bed and make love to him.
In the dream, Paul had shown him an amazing combination of strength and gentleness. All the while they had made love Paul had looked at him, touched him, whispered words of love and tenderness. Though there were no rose petals spread on the bed or candles lighting the room, it had been beautiful and romantic.
Turning over, Trevor winced. His arse ached. Awareness slowly began to blossom. It hadn’t been a dream. Paul had really made love to him, had covered his face and neck with butterfly kisses. He hadn’t imagined the words of love and passion that had been whispered to him as he was sent hurtling toward one of the most satisfying climaxes of his life.
Still keeping his eyes closed, Trevor reached out a hand to touch Paul, just to get some extra reassurance that it had really happened. But his hand found only cold sheets. Opening his eyes, Trevor saw that the other side of the bed had been slept in, but was empty.
“Must be in the bathroom,” Trevor mumbled. Languidly he got out of bed. Yes, his bottom definitely was sore, but a comforting kind of sore. The partially open bathroom door opened further at his knock. Paul wasn’t inside.
Puzzled and if he admitted it, slightly concerned, Trevor went downstairs, uncaring that he was still nude.
“Paul?”
There was no answer. He wasn’t in the living room, nor in the kitchen. He went back upstairs. Maybe Paul had gone into his old room for some reason. But no, that room was bare, the bed stripped to the mattress. Trevor sat himself on the bed, telling himself that there was a logical explanation for Paul’s absence. There just had to be. He was determined not to allow the fears that were gnawing at him to take over. But the longer Trevor sat there, the more his fears ate away at his certainty.
Getting to his feet he went back into his bedroom, studiously avoiding looking at the unmade bed, sitting with his back to it. Picking up the phone he dialled Paul’s mobile phone. It took a few seconds to connect, all the while Trevor telling himself he was fine, Paul was fine, their relationship was fine. The connection was made and he heard the ringing tone. Sitting there, gripping the receiver, he waited, and waited. Eventually the phone went to voicemail. He hung up.
Falling backward onto the bed, he closed his eyes.
* * * *
It was true what they said, the birds did seem to sing sweeter, the grass looked greener when you were in love. Paul tried to whistle, but the stupid grin on his face kept returning, making whistling impossible.
He always liked staying in bed late at the weekend, reading the paper, watching the telly or having a long slow wank. But that morning, waking up next to Trevor, he felt energized. He needed to get up and about. Thinking it would be nice to make breakfast for Trevor for once, God knows the man had cooked him enough meals, he dressed and kissed Trevor’s shoulder.
“Just gonna go shopping, love. Back soon, okay?”
Trevor mumbled something unintelligible and burrowed deeper into the blankets. Paul couldn’t help but smile at how cute Trevor looked with his ruffled hair and untroubled expression. Looking down at his lover, Paul’s heart filled with joy. Here, in this person, he’d found everything he’d been unwittingly seeking.
* * * *
Paul had forgotten how crowded the shops and supermarkets were on Saturday mornings.
He hoped he could get everything he wanted from Safeway, but their selection of flowers left a great deal to be desired. He wanted red roses, but the ones on sale looked as though they’d be dead within the week. So it was a case of trying to find a florist, a shop he hadn’t visited in years. Finding one, he then had the problem of locating a parking spot. Eventually parking up, Paul picked his way along the crowded pavements, weaving between pedestrians and old people pushing or pulling their wheeled trolleys. Though the worst were mothers with pushchairs, who insisted on travelling in panzer formation, three abreast so they could carry on a conversation with their friends as they walked.
“A dozen long stemmed red roses, please,” Paul said once he’d gained the cool and quiet interior of the shop.
“They’re not cheap I’m afraid—” the young lady shopkeeper said.
“I know, but—” P
aul blushed.
“Ah, I see.” The woman smiled.
Paul felt his silly grin come back.
As she wrapped the flowers, the florist said, “She’s a lucky lady. Wish someone would buy me red roses.”
“Uh,” Paul hesitated, then went on boldly. “Actually it’s a him. And I’m the lucky one.”
“Oh.” It was the florist’s turn to blush.
Paul had had plenty of practice at announcing that he was in love with another man. Trevor’s reaction had been the most crucial of course, and despite a few hairy moments, Trevor had stuck pretty much to the script that Gary had laid out.
Paul had worried about telling his mates on the cricket team. As he suspected Pete was great about it, even razzing him about how it had taken him long enough. Thommo’s reaction was anti-climactic. All he got by way of a reply was a grunt followed by, “Thought you were,” before he shuffled off.
Thinking about it as he walked back to the car, Paul realised Trevor had kind of paved the way with the cricket team, therefore another gay player was hardly big news. Paul’s step faltered, but soon picked up again. If loving Trevor meant he was gay, then that’s what he was. It was only a stupid label.
The flowers safely stowed in the boot of his car, Paul headed back to Safeway, thinking how stupid he had been to not get the other things he needed while he was in there earlier. The radio was playing some golden oldie by a singer his mum liked. Paul started listening to the words and they spoke to him.
He remembered the previous night, how Trevor had felt in his arms. Strong, yet needful. That’s what he liked most about his lover. How he was so determined to be his own man, but there was that indefinable vulnerability about him that Paul couldn’t resist.
He’d been nervous, God, had he been nervous. Never having done anything sexual with a man before, hadn’t even seen another guy’s hard dick up close. Trevor had been warm, responsive, reassuring. Made Paul feel special, strong, protective. In the end things hadn’t been that different from sex with a woman. No, that wasn’t true. There was something extra that seemed to make all the difference.
An angry car horn behind him brought Paul back to the present. The light had turned green but he hadn’t noticed.
Since his previous visit, the supermarket car park had filled up and Paul could only find a spot in a far flung corner. He’d planned what to buy, champagne, though he knew it would have to be chilled in the fridge before they could drink it. Strawberries, he knew Trevor loved strawberries.
After queuing at the check-out, having his few purchases scanned, Paul was out of the building and half way across the car park before he realised he’d forgotten the cream. He tried to remember if Trevor had any, but thought he best play safe and get some. Coming to a halt, he debated whether he should put his purchases in the car and then go back to the supermarket, or take his bag back inside. Fearing they’d want to make him pay a second time for what he’d just bought, Paul thought it better to go on to his car.
Who knew they sold so many types of cream? He wasn’t much into desserts, so had never paid that much attention to the stuff before. Double, whipping, ready whipped. Yeah, that one would do, save him having to whip it himself. Armed with his purchase, Paul joined the check-out queue again. The woman in front queried a buy-one-get-one-free offer, the till operator summoned an assistant who went off to check. Paul tried not to be impatient. But he wanted to get back to Trevor. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was well past nine and Trevor was bound to be awake.
Finally the assistant came back and the shopper decided she didn’t want the tin of salmon or whatever it was after all. Paul was at the head of the queue now.
“Want any help with your packin’?” the till operator asked, sounding bored.
“Uh, I think I can manage, thanks,” Paul said, looking down at the lone tub of cream.
He paid, crammed the till receipt in his pocket and left the store.
“Fuck!” Paul said when he arrived at his car, and discovered he didn’t have his keys on him. Peering in through the window he spotted them on the front passenger seat. “Bugger it!” Paul slammed his fist on the car roof. What was the best plan of action? He had a spare set of car keys at home, but that would mean getting a taxi there and back and…No, he rejected the idea. He realised calling out the AA would be the best bet. But once again his pockets didn’t yield what he sought. Another look through the window revealed his mobile phone lying on the floor in the front passenger foot well. “Fucking hell” was added to the litany of oaths.
Trudging back to the supermarket, Paul dug in his jeans pocket for some change for the pay phone in the entrance. At least it hadn’t been vandalised.
“Is there a child or a pet in the car, sir?” the efficient and mechanical sounding telephonist asked.
“No, why?”
“I’m afraid then it’s a lower priority.”
“Shit. Oh, sorry. It’s just—” The now out and definitely proud Paul didn’t think it would serve any useful purpose to tell the woman that he needed to get back to his boyfriend as they had only had sex for the first time the previous night.
Paul had been feeding coins into the hungry maw of the pay phone, the last of his credit was about to expire when the operator told him someone would be with him as soon as possible.
“Thanks.” Then the call was cut off.
Paul wanted to call Trevor, let him know where he was and that everything was all right, but he would have to get some more change first. Swearing in frustration he got a disapproving stare from an old lady who was waiting to use the phone. Paul headed straight for the tills for change.
“I’m sorry, but you have to buy something.”
Paul swore, but this time under his breath. He reached for a packet of chewing gum and slapped it down on the rubber conveyer belt. “And no, I don’t need any help with my packing.” Just to be awkward he pulled from his wallet the highest denomination note he could find. He wished he had a fifty, but had to settle for a twenty.
Armed with his change, he left the tills.
“Hey, you forgot your chewing gum,” The assistant called after him. Paul wanted to tell her where to stuff it, but chose to just carry on walking.
Back in the entrance the old lady was jabbering away on the phone, when she saw Paul she turned her back to him and continued talking. Paul waited, but the woman didn’t seem in any hurry to end the call. As she wasn’t putting money in the phone, Paul assumed the other party had called her back. “Just great!” he growled.
After what seemed an age, Paul looked at his watch. He decided he couldn’t wait there any longer as he didn’t want to miss the breakdown service.
* * * *
Finally, he was on his way back to Trevor’s. A quick shopping trip to buy some little luxuries had taken over two hours.
Hauling his hard won purchases up the garden path, Paul thought about knocking on the door, but remembered Trevor had given him his key back the other day, and now they were officially boyfriends, Paul thought it’d be okay to use his key.
“Sorry it took me so long, you wouldn’t believe—” Paul turned into the kitchen, and froze. Trevor was laid on the floor with his head in the oven.
He didn’t stop to think, he just acted. “Nooooo!” Dropping the flowers and his plastic bag of groceries, Paul dived for Trevor’s ankles and pulled.
“What the—” Trevor sat up. His face was covered in dried tear tracks.
“You stupid fool.” Paul shook Trevor’s shoulders. “Why, I’ve only just found you, why’d you—” Paul pulled Trevor’s smaller body to his chest and squeezed. His heart was beating so hard and he couldn’t catch his breath.
Trevor seemed to recover first. “Where’ve you been?”
Paul loosened his grip and held Trevor at arms length. “I told you.” Paul swallowed. “I told you I was going shopping to get us something nice for breakfast. Look!” On hands and knees Paul crawled to the plastic bag and started pulling out its
contents. “Apart from the roses, I bought chocolates, strawberries, champagne.” Paul was almost shouting. “Don’t you fucking trust me? Even after all I said and did you thought about killing yourself?”
“What?” Trevor looked at him in shock then a light bulb seemed to go on in his head. He began laughing.
“I don’t see what’s so funny.”
Trevor shook his head and tried to calm himself. “It’s true part of me thought you’d left me. But then I remembered all you’d said, and, though I still wasn’t absolutely sure, I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Then why?” Paul gestured at the oven.
“I was cleaning it.” Trevor held up his hands. He was wearing rubber gloves. How come he hadn’t noticed them earlier? “And anyway, the oven’s electric.”
Paul sat back on his heels and realised he’d made a total prat of himself. “Oh, God.”
Trevor pulled off the gloves and held out his arms. “Com’ere.” Paul gratefully sank into the embrace. “We’re a right pair, aren’t we?”
Paul nodded. “It’s just when I saw you, I—” Paul squeezed Trevor. “I thought I’d lost you, and just after I’d found you. You’re mine, now and forever, and don’t you ever fucking forget it.” He cupped Trevor’s face and kissed him long and deep.
“Yours.”
“Forever,” Paul reminded.
“Forever.”
THE END
Trapped Nerves
Chapter 1
Pill Hill—Portland, OR, July 2005
Whenever he entered an elevator, Dr. Mason Grant always felt a slight pang of fear. Guiding his wheelchair through the opening, Mason was glad to see the car was empty. However, when he turned around to face the doors, someone else had stepped inside, too. Mason gazed up at the broad, heavy-set frame of the newcomer. His body froze when he reached the man’s face.
Feeling a desperate need to escape, Mason reached for the rims of his wheels, but his arms refused to co-operate. To his horror the steel doors began to close, locking him inside the car with the one person he hoped he’d never see again.
