Layla Does It
Conclusion
Bryant was playing piano on the first floor of the Music Hall. When he was confused, music was the way to get everything out. When he didn’t know how to say a thing or how to express his feelings he used the piano. Church organ was good for those big emotions, and once upon a time, when he had been a less happy man, when he had wanted so much he couldn’t have, there had been plenty of those huge emotions, swelling up and then falling in deep minor notes that made a church shake. There was so much he had done, shaking everything up just to get anything he wanted.
But now his feelings were like water, and they didn’t run sharp or even very fast, but they went all over. The tips of his fingers caught them, and dashed them onto every note. His feelings grew delicate and fine and went into the high notes of Mozart. Bach’s organ music wasn’t needed here.
When he was something like done, he heard a light clapping behind him.
Bryant turned around and saw Nick Ferguson.
He stood up and gave a mock bow as Ferguson approached him.
“I don’t know if I told you,” Bryant said, though he was perfectly sure that he had not. “But I am not free tonight.”
“That’s too bad,” Ferguson said. His arms were crossed over his chest, and the biceps seemed to bulge a little from his snug dress shirt. “I was looking forward to us.”
“Well,” Bryant shrugged. “Sometime soon. Hopefully tomorrow.”
“Yes, hopefully,” Nick said. He flashed Bryant a smile. “Well, have a good night, Bryant.”
“You too.”
As Nick turned to walk away, Bryant called out to him. Nick turned around and Bryant approached.
“I’m pretty open about my sexual orientation.”
“And well you should be,” Nick said in a voice that managed to be encouraging while implying that it didn’t understand what Bryant’s point was.
“What I’m trying to say…” Bryant stretched and grasped the back of his neck nervously, “And I shouldn’t say this, I mean, I should clarify it because this could fall under sexual harassment. I’m not… What I mean to say is don’t take this the wrong way.”
Nick smiled at him patiently.
“I can’t take anything the wrong way if you don’t say it.”
“I… a colleague says you are married.”
“I am. My wife’s in the English department.”
“I… you have to forgive me. I thought I felt a connection between us. It clearly wasn’t there.” Bryant felt himself growing hot. “I’m very sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Nick said. Bryant nodded.
“It was there,” Nick continued. “It is there.”
Bryant blinked at him.
“I like to have my cake and eat it too. I… I don’t like to be labeled. But the label, when there is one, is bisexual.”
Bryant thought a long time. He didn’t want to stammer like an idiot as he had before.
“I… I don’t see what we would do then?” Bryant said.
Nick grinned and leaned forward.
“We would make love,” he said, squeezing Bryant’s hand. “We’d have sex, the way I think you want to. I thought that’s where we were headed.”
“I,” Bryant stammered a little. “I can’t do that. I can’t… Step into a marriage. That’s something I can’t do. I’m sorry.”
Nick shrugged and nodded. “I’m sorry too.”
Neither one of them spoke for awhile, and then Nick said, “Well… same show tomorrow night, but without the aftershow.”
“Sure,” Bryant said. He was aware that he sounded far happier and more assured than he actually felt.
In the media room of Paul Anderson’s house, Noah said, “I don’t think I could watch this with anyone else. Not even James. Hell, especially not James.”
“We’ve been through a lot,” Paul said, slipping it in, and then he sat down beside Noah.
“You’re willing to try new things?” the voice off screen asked.
“Yeah! Love all sorts of stuff.”
“Why don’t you give Johnny over there a kiss for us.”
“God,” Noah murmured, “I look so young.”
“We both do.” “We were so hot.”
They were both only in baggy cargo shorts, Noah sporting a backward ball cap. Paul, as Johnny Mellow, wore wrap around shades. He had been chewing gum that he took out for them to make out. They kissed for a long time and their bodies were perfectly cut. Neither one of them looked bad now, but to remember what they had been, when looking good was a business, that was something else.
“This is a little hot, I have to admit,” Paul said.
“Now why don’t you all strip.”
In the video they stripped and, watching himself, Noah was amazed over the size of his own penis.
“It’s different seeing it on the screen,” he said, and then Paul was naked too and going down on him, and then he was going down on Paul, and now they were making out again and Noah found himself strangely aroused. His job was gone. Fuck it, why not enjoy this.
Next they were on a sundeck before an empty path. They were on some private estate and Paul was fingering him and eating him out. Paul was lubing him up and the real Noah was laughing, realizing what was about to come.
“This is what I would call,” Paul noted, “the stupidest video ever made.”
They were only in sandals, with erections, and Paul had his shades back on. They stood beside bikes, and the bike seats ended in…. yes… dildos.
Both of them, the camera on their shocked faces, mounted the bikes, impaling themselves, and then rode down the path while present day Paul covered his mouth.
Beside them Guy was riding with the camera on their faces.
“How does it feel?” he asked Paul.
“It feels fucking good. Really intense.”
“Riding a bicycle naked with a dildo eight inches up your ass is bound to feel intense,” Paul murmured while Noah just shook his head and chuckled.
In the end they were fucking each other in a pool room, and because it was actually turning Noah on, and making him feel for Paul what he hadn’t felt in years, he turned away from it.
“My boss saw this.”
“Can we turn this off?” Real Paul stood up while onscreen Noah began to pant and wail. Paul could hear Johnny Mellow murmuring between clenched teeth, “So fucking hot. So fucking tight. So fucking good!”
Without waiting for an answer, Paul turned the movie off. His flesh was hot, and he was hard. Noah, though not ripped like he had been at twenty-one, was virtually unchanged and in some ways, better looking as an older man. Paul shook the idea out of his head.
“We did a lot of dumb shit.”
“It was fun shit,” Noah said. “But I had no idea I would be someone as tame as a high school teacher and this would come back to bite me.”
“It bit me when I was trying to do soaps.”
“Soaps sort of suck,” Noah reflected. “So does high school.”
Paul walked slowly halfway around his media room, and then said, “So… what are you gonna do?”
“I guess I better get up and find something where my past won’t bite me in the ass. I’ve been safe for a long time. Time to stop being tame.”
