He was short and stocky with a bad complexion, wavy brown hair and side burns that were in need of cutting. He had vibrant and determined brown eyes, and nice full lips. Even though he wore a suit and tie, the suit was rumpled and the collar on his white shirt featured a black ring inside where it had collected weeks of sweat and dirt.
He was a reporter for a local newspaper with a liberal bias. He walked the walk, organized labor, marched for peace and MLK, volunteered for VISTA in service to his country, and was in between schools right now attempting to get a degree in journalism.
He had never been with a woman. He was shy and unkempt, had no game. She invited him to use her bathtub while she washed and ironed his shirt and under things. She brought him out in every way. She was his first lay, his first blow job, his first relationship. She took him to a gay bar as a matter of experience and then he decided that he was gay.
She cleaned him up when he came home after being with an over-sized black dude as his first encounter. He was bleeding like a stuck pig and had to wear Kotex pads for about a week. But he had found himself. It broke her heart, but he wanted to be with her anyway in an open and free marriage, loving and committed. He said,
"You are the only woman I have ever loved completely. I'm sorry I am gay. You are the most exciting, engaged person (male or female) I have ever met."
She thought she’d try it.
But there were a lot of snakes in the bed. Three ways, set ups, game playing, role playing…. She would hook up, he would watch. He would hook up, she would participate. They had many adventures together for a couple of years.
She came back to the rooms they had rented. Her date had ended badly. A wide eyed young beefy dock worker with hope in his heart looking for a big romance with a cute hippie chick. At some point she felt guilty leading the guy on since she knew that all she wanted was a quick fuck and get on with it. He was hoping for a relationship. He had been crushed. She was sorry. She didn’t want to get his hopes up when she knew her lover was waiting for her back at their rooms. But he wasn’t there.
She saw her $40 jar of face cream open on the bed with remnants of santorum mixed with the heavenly mango scented cream. Goddamn it! Now she would just have to throw that cream away. She was furious! She had come back to him and he was fucking some other guy in her room with her face cream! The scent of that cream would always remind her of anal sex.
Nutura
(First published 11/6/11)
