My Summer

by Declan Rhodes

  I stood up to collect the plates and take them to the kitchen. “Occasionally I'm the smart kid, too." After I picked up Tom's plate, I leaned down to kiss his cheek.

  "Hey, wait! You didn't tell me anything about your love life. I think you owe me a story. Don't you agree?"

  I set the plates in the sink and scraped some bits of sausage down the drain. "You mean about me falling in love with somebody?"

  "Yeah, that. Are you trying to hide something? Is there a man waiting for you at home?” A few moments of silence passed between us. "I guess that could be true. Please tell me it's not true."

  I crossed the room to Tom and placed my arms around his neck. "Even though it would be fun to tease, I'll be honest. I’m a little shy, and my friends all think I work too hard and I live half my life in the library. There is truth in their perceptions, and that means no romance for me. I'm carrying on torrid affairs with George Eliot, Thomas Hardy, and D.H. Lawrence.”

  "So nobody ever? You’ve never been in love?“

  I slipped a hand inside the neck of Tom's T-Shirt touching his warm, smooth chest with my fingertips. "I didn't say that. I had my college fling, too."

  "Were you out when you went to college? A lot of kids come out in high school now. They write me letters about it.“

  I shrugged. "I guess so. I never had a specific coming out experience. I was a skinny, bookish kid when I was in elementary school and junior high. I think everybody always assumed I was gay. Even my parents did. They didn't bat an eye when I was intrigued by anything girly. I had both dolls and a baseball glove."

  "But then you grew up."

  "Yeah, I hit my growth spurt early in high school, and I was in love with swimming. First, I did it on my own. My mom bought a YMCA membership, and I made up times that I wanted to beat. An older guy saw me at the pool early one morning, and he said I should compete. By then I’d developed real shoulders, and I wasn’t quite so skinny anymore. One thing led to another, and suddenly I was on the high school swim team. I loved having a coach.”

  “You like those guys barking orders at you?” Tom smirked at the subtle irony.

  “Yeah, I guess so. I see it as educated guidance.”

  Tom reached up and touched his T-Shirt with my hand underneath. "Love story?"

  "Oh, yeah, the swimming again. I didn't compete in college, but I still tried to go to the pool at least three or four times a week early in the morning. I told you about the part fish thing. I’m addicted to swimming. They’ll have to pull me out of the pool as a 90-year-old wrinkled guy.

  “Anyway, one day I was in the pool, and I noticed this other guy staring at me. Most of the other men in the pool at that hour were professors, but this guy was a student like me. I didn't recognize him. I was sure I’d never seen him before. He was skinny as a rail so probably not as gorgeous as the guys you attract.” I teased Tom's nipple.

  "Hey! Don't I get credit for you?"

  I leaned down and asked, “Are you saying I’m gorgeous?"

  “I am, and you’re going to finish the story. Don’t get distracted.“

  "Oh, yeah, well there’s not a lot more to tell. He turned out to be shy and nerdy like me. We thought that made us a perfect match. We kept each other out of the library on Friday and Saturday nights." My eyes focused downward on Tom's shorts. A rising tent was forming.

  "Then what happened?"

  "Nothing, really. He transferred out to a different college closer to home, and we said we would keep in touch. After a few weeks, the communication just petered out, and I went back to the library. Oscar Wilde welcomed me with open arms. Ultimately, I ended up here in the arms of the most handsome man I’ve ever met.” I ran my fingers over Tom's buzzed hair.

  He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “I suppose it wasn’t easy to see him leave, but it was a fortunate turn of events for me. If he didn’t transfer, who knows what would have happened. You might be running the vacuum cleaner while skinny hubby goes to work to bring home the bacon."

  Our eyes locked. "Why wouldn't he be doing that for me?"

  Tom reached up to touch my face. "Because I know you, hun, you would be the one taking care of things for your man. Trust me, it's obvious, and I find it extremely sexy." He traced a fingertip across my lower lip. An excited shiver raced up my spine. I couldn't dispute his comment. Tom was getting to know me very well.

  8

  Deep Water

  I got down to some real work that afternoon. I’d made a lot of progress sorting through and organizing Tom’s papers. Reading his email from fans was a fascinating experience. I read multiple stories about how his writing changed lives. I hoped that someday I could create something that moved at least a few people toward a better direction in their lives.

  The desire to spend time solely focused on Tom was distracting, but it also inspired me to do a great job supporting his work. I wanted him to see me as a fully committed partner in our joint project. I wanted him to understand that he couldn’t have made a better choice when hiring an assistant for the summer.

  That night I slept better than I did the night before. Lying together with Tom began to feel familiar, and that sense of familiarity helped me to sleep peacefully. I still woke up in the morning disbelieving my good fortune.

  Tom was already up and bustling around in the kitchen. I stretched out in his, I mean our, bed and rolled over to sniff for his scent on the pillow. I dozed off a few more times before he called that breakfast was ready.

  While we ate, we shared more stories of the past and details about relatives and friends. We even took baby steps into a discussion of deeply held beliefs about the world. It was a good morning.

  After I cleared the dishes, Tom told me that he wanted to open the bag with his purchases from the leather store in Key West. I’d nearly forgotten about it, but he immediately piqued my interest.

  He pulled the leather harness from the bag and asked me to try it on again. I didn’t have to take my shirt off. I was only wearing swim trunks. Tom helped me make a few more adjustments for fit. It was a bulldog-style harness in black leather with chrome buckles and rings. One large chrome ring at the front gave Tom a handy gripping point for tugging me forward.

  "What else did you get?"

  I swallowed hard when he pulled the next item out of the bag. It was a leather collar with a ring designed for attaching a leash. I was startled and took a step back. Tom asked, “Is there something wrong?”

  I started to speak and then stopped myself. I wasn't sure how to put my feelings into words. "I guess I didn't expect it. It’s a surprise.“

  I’d looked at the collars in the store, and I was curious about them. The idea of wearing one for Tom was exciting, but I knew that it would carry a lot of meaning, too.

  My thoughts drifted back to the number of times I’d obediently followed Tom's directives over the past several days. Taking his orders, successfully completing tasks, and pleasing him made me feel good, but I wasn't sure it meant that I should be wearing a collar. I understood the collar to indicate ownership. It meant giving him absolute, unquestioned control.

  Tom spoke slowly and clearly. "I won’t insist that you wear it. I only want you to consider it. For me, it would represent our bond together and your trust in me as your leader. It would also represent my trust in you. I wouldn’t place a collar around the neck of someone I didn’t see as worthy of a commitment from me. It would mean that I agree to take care of you and take responsibility for you. I’ve never placed a collar around anyone’s neck. This is new territory for me.“

  I stammered. "That's a lot."

  "Yes, it is, and it makes me a little nervous, too. We are nowhere close to permanent commitments, but I bought this for you out of respect for the potential I see in our partnership. I think there is tremendous potential for the future.”

  Tears began to well up in the corners of my eyes. I battled an intense desire to wear the collar. I wanted to know what it would feel like and how it would look a
round my neck. The idea of a leash attached to it excited me physically. My head was fuzzy and confused. I felt like my brain suddenly filled up with cotton balls. Tom pulled out a few other toys, but it was the collar that riveted my attention. It was the clearest sign yet that Tom wanted me, and it was possible that he was thinking beyond the summer. I didn't know if I could do it. There were so many factors to consider.”

  Tom set the collar on the table and walked up to me wrapping his arms around my waist. I stared down at his chest. He said, “Look me in the eye. What would it mean to you to wear that around your neck?"

  I breathed deeply and slowly raised my head. His eyes were soothing and warm as he looked at me. “I think it would mean putting you in control of everything. It would take all of my choices away."

  Tom gripped my chin and stared intently. "It would only mean what we both decided it means."

  A single tear rolled down my cheek. I spoke up and said exactly what I was thinking. "Tom, I want to belong to you, but I don't know if I can give everything else up. It’s so much, and it’s so fast. How can I decide that right now?“

  “I’ll be honest with you. I think you already belong to me. The collar wouldn't change that in any way. How does that make you feel knowing that I think you’re mine already?”

  I gritted my teeth. I was confused, and I felt like Tom was slowly backing me into a corner, but I wasn't sure it was a corner I didn't want to fill. He was probably right. He was already right about so much else. I so quickly fell in step behind him whether we were swimming off the shore of Rusty Door Key or walking down a crowded sidewalk on Duval Street in Key West. I was vulnerable, and I wasn't sure I wanted to agree with him, because I feared he could take advantage of my consent. I said the word, "Don’t,” but I couldn't finish my thought.

  "Don't what?"

  I breathed deep and looked down at his chest again. "I don't know."

  He surprised me with his firm response. "Joel, kneel on the floor here at my feet. Right here." He pointed at the floor. "Don't hesitate. Do it now."

  I knew that I was thinking too hard. I needed an order to jolt me out of the complicated stew of thoughts. Competing impulses assaulted my brain. I wanted to yell, "No!" but an equal desire fought back and wanted me to do anything that he asked.

  I clenched my fists, and the muscles in my arms began to quiver. Tom reached out and put a hand on my shoulder applying firm pressure downward. My obedient side won, and I slowly fell to my knees. Instinctively, I reached out and wrapped my arms around his waist resting my cheek against his belly. It felt right.

  Tom’s voice was soft and warm when he spoke again. "That's good, and hold on tight. I won't let you go. I'm yours as much as you're mine. It goes both ways.“

  I wept while he brushed his fingers across the top of my head. Without any additional contemplation, I spoke up. "I want the collar.”

  "Are you sure of that?" Tom’s hand kneaded my muscular shoulder.

  I started to babble. "Yes, please. I trust you, and I want to see what it's like. I want to take a deep breath and feel like I'm diving under. I want to dive down deep. Please, I want to wear it." I stopped talking when he placed a finger on my lips.

  Fortunately, Tom could reach the collar from where he stood. I was still holding on tight, and I didn't want him to go anywhere. He placed the leather collar, not much wider than a dog collar, around my neck. He buckled it, and it fit snug but not tight. The leather was soft, and the first sensation that swept into my mind was one of reassurance. I belonged to Tom. He bought the collar to represent our relationship. As long as I wore it, there was something of him wrapped around my neck. I shuddered when I realized part of him could always be with me even when he was out of sight.

  I looked up into his face. He asked, "How does it feel?"

  "It feels good. It’s hard to explain, though. Thank you.” The next word rolled off my tongue without thinking, "Sir."

  He chuckled softly. "You can still call me Tom if you wish. The collar doesn’t need to change that.“

  "Is it okay for me to call you Sir?” I searched his eyes to discern his thoughts.

  He smiled back at me and squeezed my shoulder. "Sir works fine." He touched the collar himself. "The leather is soft. Is it comfortable?"

  “More comfortable than I expected. I don't want to take it off."

  Sir hooked a finger into the ring at the front. "I don't think there is any reason for you to take it off. Wear it as much as you want." He reflected for a moment. "Oh, with one exception. Don't wear it when you swim. The same goes for the harness. Saltwater is hellish on leather. I saw neoprene collars. Maybe I should have bought one of those."

  I smiled listening to him. "I'll remember that. Perhaps two collars would be better than one.“

  “The next time we go down to Key West, we'll look at the neoprene. I should have considered that when I thought about collaring a fish.“

  Late in the afternoon, about two hours before our usual dinner time, Sir said that he wanted to go for a boat ride together. Boat rides to Marathon were common. We took the ten-minute ride for groceries, checking Sir’s mailbox at the post office, and quick taco runs. He said that the ride would be different from a Marathon run.

  I raised an eyebrow in question, but he gave me no further information. He also instructed me to leave the collar behind and wear only my swim trunks. As we left the house, he handed me a cooler packed with drinks, and he threw a coil of rope over his shoulder before grabbing his sunglasses. I dutifully followed in his footsteps toward the boat dock.

  Sir powered up the boat while I settled myself into the stern. There were no clouds in the sky, and the sun spread orange fingers overhead as it dipped close to the horizon. He directed the boat to the west. I knew that if we traveled very far in that direction, the Seven Mile Bridge would come into view in the distance.

  As I caught my first glimpse of the bridge, Sir killed the boat’s motor, and we began to drift on the gentle waves. The ocean was relatively calm. The water lapped softly against the boat. I counted five other fishing boats scattered around, but none of them were close to us. I glanced up at Sir. He was staring out over the water with the relaxed gaze of a seasoned sailor. I leaned back on my seat and closed my eyes listening to the waves. The late afternoon sun played across my bare chest and face. It was paradise.

  Sir moved to the stern to sit beside me, and I opened my eyes. He carried the coil of rope wrapped over his shoulder. I was unsure of its purpose. I had discovered that he had many more uses for rope beyond tying me up. It was vital for securing the boat, and he used it in his unsuccessful attempts at laying lobster traps. I scooted over to him and settled my head into his lap. Sir stroked my face with his fingers. “It’s a beautiful evening out here. The sky will be full of stars tonight.”

  I nodded in agreement. "It's stunning out here. Did we come to look at the bridge, or to go stargazing?”

  He shook his head. "No, I'm not in the mood for sightseeing. There is something else that I wanted to do."

  I reached up to touch the rope. “I’m curious about why you brought this.”

  He pushed his sunglasses up to rest them on his forehead and looked down at me scrutinizing my face. "I brought it for you."

  A tickle swept up my back. "Me, Sir? Out here?"

  He nodded. "Yes, it's a perfect place to make good use of it." He repeated the phrase in a low tone. "A perfect place."

  "I'm not sure I understand..."

  Sir ran his fingers over my chest toying with a nipple. “There’s no need to concern yourself about it yet. You shouldn’t worry at all. Do you trust me?"

  I closed my eyes and moaned softly when he squeezed the nipple between finger and thumb and tugged it upward stretching it away from my chest. "Of course. I trust you implicitly.” The word trust sounded like my mantra for the summer when I said it out loud. It perfectly described a crucial element of our growing relationship.

  "That's good. I trust you, too.” His f
ingertips danced down the middle of my chest and abs. Sir slipped a single fingertip beneath the waistband of my trunks. I moaned, and he quickly pulled it back.

  "Please, Sir.

  He stroked my chest with the hand. "Oh, we have plenty of time for that later."

  I grinned. "I hope so."

  "Are you a little horny?"

  "Is it that obvious? I think it’s a permanent affliction when we’re together.”

  "Oh, I'm learning a lot about you. I can see it in your eyes. Let's find out if you can hang on to it while we're out here."

  I raised an eyebrow. I knew that Sir was hinting at something, but I didn’t know what it was. I didn't know if he was going to throw me down in the hull of the boat and hogtie me, or if he had something entirely different in mind. I closed my eyes and decided to follow his suggestion and not concern myself about any of it. I focused on enjoying the sensations of his hands on my body.

  Minutes later, he commanded, "Sit up, Joel."

  I obediently followed his request and rose to a sitting position. He was ready to begin whatever he had in mind.

  "Please put your wrists behind you." Sir ran his fingertips over my right bicep as I stretched my arms behind me. He pulled the rope from his shoulder and began to methodically bind my wrists together like he did when he hogtied me on the floor of the living room. After he finished with my wrists, he placed a hand on my shoulder and asked me to tug on the rope to see if it was tight.

  I pulled hard. There was little give, but my wrists were comfortable. "It's good and tight."

  "Let me see if you can get loose." He watched closely while I tried to grip the ends of the ropes with my fingertips. I curled my fingers toward my palms and stretched them to reach the rope wrapped between my wrists. I couldn't detect a rope end anywhere. My efforts to pull a loop loose in the knots failed.

  I tried once again to find the ends of the rope, but my wrists were tied in such a way that I couldn't reach them. I tried to pull my wrists around to one side of me and twisted my torso to the side. There was no way I was getting loose. The sensation of helplessness tied up in the rope made me hard.