by Dale Chase
After he took a quick shower, we walked to La Cantina. Dinner was wicked—fat burritos smothered in red sauce, too many tortilla chips, and a pitcher of margaritas. We were well into the meal before we said a word.
“Pig city,” I noted.
Ray laughed. “Oink,” he said before digging back into his burrito.
We debated a second pitcher of margaritas, finally deciding to go for it since we weren’t driving.
“This was such a good idea,” I told Ray.
“The second pitcher?” he asked, raising his glass.
“The vacation. Just a train ride from the city, we find paradise.”
“And it wouldn’t have anything to do with a hotel and room service?”
“No. You can find those in San Francisco. It’s better here, removed from the clamor, so mellow.”
When he’d drained his glass, he took my hand, giving me that boyish smile. “Mellow now, but it’ll heat up later.”
“I’m counting on that.”
It was after ten when we finished the second pitcher and I felt wonderfully looped. As Ray paid the bill, I was overcome by a fit of giggles, anticipating a romp when we got back to the room. On the way out, Ray grabbed my ass in confirmation.
We held hands walking back to the hotel, bumping along, laughing at being tipsy. “What a wonderful state,” Ray declared. “Indulging with the man I love.” When we reached the hotel, he tightened his grip and pulled me past the entrance. “C’mon.”
“Where?”
“There.” He nodded toward the cemetery and yanked me forward.
I yanked back. “No way.”
“Oh, come on, don’t be such a scaredy-cat.”
“I’m not scared, I’d just rather be indoors.”
“Well, I want some adventure.” He let go and ran toward the cemetery’s entrance, and I saw I had no choice. If I wanted his company, it would be on a cemetery stroll.
As he all but danced along the road, I walked while looking around to see if others were present. The place seemed deserted, appropriate for a cemetery at night, but what about a caretaker or security guard? Glancing up, I noticed half a moon and wished for none so we’d be better hidden, but on second thought, maybe a little light would be a good thing.
Ray had such an impish quality, especially when drinking. Problem was, I liked it, so I caught up to him as he lay on that same memorial bench from before. When I got close, I noted he had his pants undone.
“No way,” I said as I stood over him.
“But it’s perfect. Nobody’s around, and it’s such a gorgeous night, why not have some fun?”
“I don’t want to have sex among the dead. I just don’t.”
He pulled out his dick, working it, and I knew he wouldn’t change his mind. He seldom came over to my side on things, which had reduced me to a master of compromise. “Suck me,” he said, waving his dick at me.
I looked around and, as we were well up the road, I kneeled and took him into my mouth. I didn’t expect his squeals with pleasure.
I pulled off and sat back. “Keep quiet.”
“Why? Who you gonna wake?”
“Hotel guests.”
He laughed. “Nah, it’s too far away. C’mon, do me. I’ll be quiet.”
I resumed my place and soon didn’t care I was sucking cock among the dead. I had a live one and that was what counted. Then Ray came, and I swallowed while anticipating what I’d do to him in return.
I eased back and he sat up. “Oh, man, that was good.” He pulled me down beside him and kissed me, and there we sat, him with pants still open, dick exposed for all the dead to see, and us making out. In time, I let go of concerns for the living and the dead. I only wanted Ray.
The margaritas were doing their magic now, taking me where I’d ordinarily not have gone. I led Ray by the hand, pulling him along until I saw a row of tombstones. “There.”
We ventured over for a look, but it wasn’t light enough to read anything on the markers. Ray plopped onto the grass, pushing down his pants and underwear. “I’m all yours,” he said as he rolled over and stuck out his butt.
That did it. Head slightly swimming, I felt justified in doing whatever in hell I wanted so I opened my pants, got behind, and put it to him. Now I was the one squealing, playing banshee as I started to ride. And as I did him, I found myself enjoying the quiet around us, the brisk night air, the scent of trees and flowers. Park-fucking once removed.
When I came, I let out a roar, going at Ray with everything I had. I pounded until I thought I’d pass out, then collapsed onto him.
“Told you it would be good,” he said.
“That you did.”
When I rolled off, we lay side by side, enjoying that bliss that makes all else irrelevant. I had just started to doze when Ray took my hand and pulled me upward. “Don’t you dare fall asleep.” He was already on his feet and dressed. “Let’s go on up the road. Come on.”
All I wanted was to stay there, but I gave in, got to my feet, and tucked away my dick. Once upright, I regained my senses, and we walked further into the cemetery. Trees thickened toward the back, and there were more flat markers, graves unknown, save for the little metal squares planted atop them. Here, the trees obscured most of the moonlight, which prompted Ray to totally strip. Even in my drunken state, I didn’t want to get naked. But I did. We proceeded to romp, chasing each other, landing, rolling about, laughing, kissing. I have no idea how many graves we’d desecrated before Ray said he had to pee and wandered off to find a spot.
“Not on a grave,” I called because that would be too much. “I’m done,” I said when he came back. “Let’s find our clothes and head for the hotel before I pass out.”
We located our clothes, dressed, and headed for the hotel. Once in our room, we crashed big time.
* * * *
Next morning, waking with a mean hangover, it crossed my mind that I might have had sex in the cemetery. Or had it been a dream? Would I have done such a thing? I looked at Ray, who still slept, and tried to recall sex in our bed, but got nothing. Cemetery sex persisted. We really had done it, I decided.
Coffee didn’t do much for the hangover, and a shower didn’t either, so I crawled back into bed and fell asleep.
* * * *
Next time I awoke, I saw that Ray had turned on the TV.
“It’s our staying-in day, remember?” he said.
“Not a problem. I doubt I’d be up for anything more.”
We slept on and off throughout the morning, eating from room service, watching TV, and indulging in lengthy bouts of sex. By late afternoon, we still had no inclination to venture out. Lying cuddled, we reconsidered walking the reservoir the next day.
“Sounds like too much work,” I said.
Ray agreed. “Let’s play things by ear.”
We had dinner in the room, and being ravenous by then, we’d ordered steaks, baked potatoes, salad, and wine. We set up a picnic on the bed and feasted and drank until we became so full, all we could do was fall back to sleep.
As I drifted off, I thought it the best indulgence ever.
* * * *
Feeling renewed upon waking the next morning, we decided to visit the reservoir after breakfast. We ordered room service to pack us a lunch, then dressed in jeans and tees. Backpacks slung over our shoulders, we got into the elevator, which engaged with a clunk, shuddered downward, and jolted to a stop just short of the second floor.
We stood in silence for a couple seconds before I hit the alarm button, which sounded loud enough to wake the town. Then it stopped and a voice came over the tiny speaker. “Problem?”
“We’re stuck in the elevator between the second and third floors,” I said. “Get us out.”
“How odd,” said the voice. “We’ve never had that happen. We’ll get someone right on it.”
“How long will it take?” I asked.
The voice didn’t reply.
Ray put a hand on my shoulder, kneading lightly,
as if he could massage away my claustrophobia. “Take it easy,” he said, as if I’d already freaked out.
“I am. It’ll be fine, they’ll get us out. It’ll be fine.”
The elevator was paneled in dark wood, its little ceiling eggshell white. Cozy, I thought. Warm and cozy. And there were lots of places smaller, tiny elevators with iron gates in old buildings. This was roomy by comparison.
Ray, knowing this could get away from me, took me into his arms, which helped some. I drew deep breaths, but calm lasted only a minute before he felt confining, and I pulled away.
“I’m okay,” I said as the closed-in feeling began to rise.
There was no way out, no access to anything, just us in a box. It didn’t matter the size of the box. It was still a box and I couldn’t stand it.
Ray watched me, knowing from past experience there was nothing he could do. He’d found out in our first days together not to pin me during sex—or ever. “It’s probably why I’m a top,” I’d told him. From then on, he’d taken care to avoid confining me, but he couldn’t control outside forces, much as he wanted to.
He knew not to talk. You can’t distract or soothe a claustrophobe, can’t talk him around or past it. I appreciated him giving me room. Pacing helped, but not enough.
After what seemed an age, I asked, “How long has it been?”
He checked his watch. “Twenty minutes.”
By the time the elevator lurched and started downward, my skin was tingling like it wanted to come off, my heart pounding as if it, too, sought escape. I burst into tears.
Ray swept me into his arms. “It’s over. It’s over.”
Firemen greeted us on the second floor, and Ray thanked them as I sprinted toward the stairs. I ran to the lobby and out the front door, ran all the way to the street, where I stood sucking in fresh air. Wisely, Ray didn’t follow.
In time, I began to walk up and down, unable to soak up enough room as confinement clung to me like some heavy woolen coat. Back and forth I paced, expanding my route until I came to the cemetery, where I looked up the winding road. I thought of all those buried—the ultimate confinement—and I started toward them, feeling almost guilty at being free. They were friends now, trapped as I’d been, though unable to complain, and I wanted to offer solace.
I found myself among the tombstones where we’d had sex, recalling our lack of care for those below. Then I saw the grave on which we’d done it and the tombstone we’d been unable to read in the dark.
Justin Cade
1983–2015
Beloved Son
I calculated the age—thirty two. So young. I felt awful for what we’d done, and as I stood there I realized I was breathing normally, heart quietly beating. Suddenly, I was very tired.
I went back to the hotel, where I found Ray in the lobby. When he saw me, he slumped with relief.
“I walked it off,” I said as I reached him.
“Good. Still want to hit the reservoir?”
“No, let’s get a drink.”
We sat at Foxy’s Bar, drinking Bloody Marys.
“Did they tell you what caused the elevator to get stuck?” I asked.
“They said they couldn’t find the exact cause. They did all the usual stuff, but couldn’t pinpoint what stopped it. Weird, huh?”
“Very, but at least it worked. What a morning.”
I didn’t tell Ray I’d gone to the cemetery, afraid it might encourage more romping. I kept Justin Cade to myself.
* * * *
In time, I felt righted enough to walk the reservoir, so we picked up the lunch from room service, stuffed it in our backpacks, and set out. Walking had never felt so good.
The reservoir, a mile west, was as the concierge said. Once we’d trekked halfway around, we felt completely removed from everyday life. We could have been deep in some forest, were it not for sitting at a picnic table to eat our ham sandwiches, pickles, and chips.
We tried to identify trees, but knew only oak, pine, and redwood. Likewise, the shrubs were mostly a mystery. Butterflies flitted around thickets of bright green, while elsewhere, white flowers dotted clumps of bushy gray-green plants. The area had pungent forest smells, with the sky clear overhead. A squirrel came to beg, and Ray enticed him onto the table with a piece of bread, which he ate right there, unafraid.
Joggers and other walkers passed by as we relaxed, and I knew without saying a word that Ray also recalled our running years. We’d kept at it until our forties when we decided walking was plenty. Joints had been pleased and we still managed our weight.
“Takes you back,” Ray finally said as a thin may cruised by.
“Distant memory.”
Just then, an elderly power walker chugged past. “No way,” said Ray. “Not ever.”
Laughing, I had only faint recall of the awful incident in the elevator. “It’s so open here. Roomy, fresh, peaceful.”
Ray leaned across the table. “How about we have dinner in tonight?”
He had that familiar look in his eye, which I welcomed. Loosened up now and free from all constraints, I was all for some good one-on-one.
* * * *
Returning to the hotel in late afternoon, Ray found himself alone at the elevator. I’d stopped in the middle of the lobby while he’d charged ahead. When he turned, he bore a slightly exasperated look.
“No elevator for me,” I said.
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. See you upstairs.”
I appreciated his not pressing. No way I’d get into any elevator in this hotel for the rest of the week.
The one-on-one took place as soon as we entered the room. Sweating from walking, we got sweatier, finally enjoying a good indoor romp. And when we went to shower, it continued. Dinner ended up around eight, after which we fell asleep.
* * * *
The dream had me back in the elevator, alarm sounding until it woke me. I sat up with heart pounding, only to find the alarm real.
“What’s that?” Ray said, finally waking.
“Alarm. You think the elevator is stuck again?”
Just then came a pounding on the door. “Fire! Evacuate the hotel now!”
“Geez,” said Ray as he flipped on the lamp. We looked at each other, then sprang from bed and started dressing. Once clothed, we grabbed wallets and jackets and ran into the hall.
“Stairs,” I said when he headed for the elevator. “Never use an elevator in a fire.”
We joined the descending throngs, most in nightclothes, our group mixing with second-floor throng until we had a veritable herd reaching the lobby.
“Out front and away from the building,” shouted a clerk. “Go clear to the sidewalk and stay there until notified.”
The herd progressed in orderly fashion, spilling out the front door and moving to the sidewalk, where we milled about.
“I don’t see any flames,” somebody said.
“I don’t see any fireman,” said another.
But I heard sirens, and two fire trucks soon pulled into the driveway. Men jumped out and three ran inside while others made ready to put out a fire we couldn’t see.
“Not even any smoke,” said somebody.
“Maybe it’s not a fire,” said another. “Maybe it’s a medical emergency.”
“Then why the fire alarm?” asked still another.
A discussion rose, so we moved to one side, where we had a good view of hotel and crowd. Nobody came out of the hotel, and after talking on the radio, more firemen went inside, leaving hoses behind.
“Maybe they can’t find the fire,” Ray said.
“Maybe it’s a false alarm,” I replied.
The hotel turned on outside lights, well-lit for spectators, but as minutes ticked away, the crowd grew restless.
“I’ll never get back to sleep after this,” I told Ray.
“If you get to bed at all. At this rate, we’ll be out here all night.”
I looked past him toward the cemetery, where I saw a man leaning against the fence.
Away from everyone, he wore jeans and leather jacket. He had dark hair and pale skin, and I found him looking straight at me. I looked back, trying to stare him down, but he held his gaze, so I gave up. I looked at my watch, realizing I had no idea the time we’d left the hotel.
“How long has it been?” I asked Ray.
“No idea.”
Again, I glanced at the leather-clad figure. He still stared and I noticed he hadn’t moved. “There’s a guy by the fence. Leather jacket. He’s staring at me.”
Ray looked. “Yeah. So what?”
“He doesn’t look like a hotel guest.”
“So he’s a spectator. Fire-engine chaser.”
“I guess.”
We remained outside for two hours, by which time rebellion had brewed in the crowd. Finally, the firemen came out and one announced a false alarm. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” he said, “but we had to search the entire hotel to make sure there was no fire. You can now go back inside.”
“Some great hotel,” I told Ray in the lobby. “So much for cheap deals.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I know it’s not your fault. It’s just frustrating, the elevator and now this.”
When I started for the stairs, Ray took my arm, but let go when I stopped walking. “See you upstairs,” I said.
He nodded and joined the others piling into the elevators. As I entered the stairwell, I shuddered at thoughts of getting stuck in an elevator crammed with people.
Thinking of Ray mashed in with the others, I didn’t pay attention to where I was going. Upstairs was good enough, but as I neared the landing halfway to the second floor, I saw it occupied by the leather jacket guy. He was staring at me again, so I decided to confront him.
On reaching the landing, I held out my hand, which caused him to vanish.
I stood in shock, mouth open, breath caught. It was beyond belief, a person disappearing before my eyes, going from body to nothing. My arm was still outstretched, reaching for air. Wait, I thought, and I turned around because he could have gotten behind me, though I had no idea how. Nope. I stood alone on the landing and somewhat freaked out. Had I imagined the guy? No, because Ray had seen him outside, even commented on him, but this was different. Way too different. What in hell was going on? Suddenly I needed to get to our room.
