Doug Brady, Marine

*** Pure fantasy with a little bit of me thrown in.
Your comments are welcome; email me and tell me what you think of the story, and tell me something about yourself.
Peterbilt222@hotmail.com
***

It was one of those rare times when the day was over before the sun went down. Doug Brady finished drying off beside his bunk and slipped into a pair of briefs. Then he dug out the only letter he'd gotten at mail call from his locker. It was only the second letter he'd received from Scott, his best friend from high school since he’d been in basic.
"Hey, Doug, mail was kinda slim for you today, wasn't it?" Kyle Smith remarked as he walked by from the showers, dripping wet.
"I'll make up for it tomorrow," Doug said. He opened letter and stretched out on his bunk to read it.
Dear Doug,
First, know that it's taken a tremendous amount of guts to sit down and write this letter. I'm up in the hayloft where I still come when my head gets too filled up with thoughts I can't sort out. I hope you are able to be in a quiet place when you read this, although I doubt that the Marines put much emphasis on quiet places for you guys.

Doug's stomach tightened. Somehow he didn't think this was a letter he wanted to get. Things clicked and added up in his head. It had been more than two weeks since he'd last heard from his girlfriend, Chelsea. Scott didn't write nearly as often as he said he would and now this, only his second letter, starting out the way it did.....it wasn't good news. He wasn't even sure he wanted to finish reading it. Guys said you could tell a Dear John letter from reading the first couple of lines. He let out a sigh and laid the letter on his chest for a moment. This was a new twist to the Dear John; his buddy writing it instead of his girlfriend. Suddenly he got up and went outside to the landing at the top of the stairs. It was as quiet a place as he was going to find to be alone. He read on.

I've gone over and over in my mind how I can say it because know I am risking our friendship. But know that you are worth that risk. I am admittedly afraid of how you might react, and that you might never want to see or speak to me again. So being the chicken that I am, depending on your reaction, I won't be here when you come home. I'll be in California where I will be safe from your scorn and disappointment and your anger. Having said that..….here goes.
I've had the hots for you, buddy, since our freshman year in high school. Maybe before, but that's when I can pinpoint it. You can pause and take a deep breath now, and decide whether you want to finish reading this. The thoughts have been rambling around in my head for a long time, but they were buried so deep that I couldn't grab hold of them; or maybe I didn't want to, or I was afraid to. It's the underlying reason that I didn't join the marines with you. I was afraid of trying to live the lie in those surroundings, if you know what I mean.
I can't help how I feel, Doug, and I'm not sure I would try to do anything about it if I could. I'm growing comfortable with my feelings, at least in my fantasies at this safe distance. But it comes down to me having to reveal these feelings to you, no matter what the consequences. I guess I need to come out and say it. I'm gay.
God, I hope you don't hate me for saying that. There is so much more I want to say but I think this is enough for now till I know how you're taking it. I would like to come down there to see you so we are able to talk about it but you might be too uncomfortable with that. I understand if you are. On the other hand, if you think you can still be comfortable around me, I will come. Just being with you, being able to talk to you and knowing you don't hate me will be enough. Even if you do hate me, I would like to hear it from you face to face. I said I would head for California where I would be safe from your scorn and your disappointment and your anger but I will come down there and face you, if that's the way it is. If I've caused you to be angry and disappointed, you have a right to confront me with that. I'm going to ask only one thing. That you not go homophobic on me and punch me out. Before, we were pretty much an even match, but after twelve weeks of marine training on top of the muscles you already had, I don't want to take the chance. Chelsea showed me the picture of you in your uniform (and out). You are not someone I want to mess with. (Well, you know what I mean). I'm not sure how anxious I am to hear from you, but I'll be watching the mailbox every day.

Your friend always,
Scott

Doug held the letter tight in one hand as he gazed out over the landscape of the base; the training areas, flat buildings, trees, dusty roads and rows and rows of barracks with lights in the windows. He realized that he needed to let the air out of his lungs.
"Geezusss!" he swore softly. His brain was in a fog and he had to fight to grasp what he had read. "He's gay," he said softly. "Scott Andrews is gay!" He couldn't comprehend it, not in his wildest imaginations. His thoughts went back to their years of growing up, the times they had slept over at each other's houses, slept in the same bed. All the times they had been naked
together in the locker room and in the showers; the times when they had hugged, sometime naked and sweaty, when emotions ran high. Did Scott have those feelings then, when their bare muscles were rubbing against each other.....hell, even their cocks touching! He had never seen one hint that Scott was anything
but a stud like every other guy in the locker room. When did this happen, he wondered. How did it happen?
It was several days before he wrote back. At first he wondered if he would. But their friendship meant more to him than that. No matter how he felt, he owed Scott a reply. He just didn't know what he was going to say. He wasn't even sure how he felt about it. It took him a long time to try to think of how to respond but he finally decided to try. He sat down trying to remember all that Scott had written, for he had destroyed the letter right away for fear that it might be found.

Scott;
Where do I begin? Dam, man, I thought I was getting a Dear John letter except that you were writing it instead of Chelsea. Let's get one thing straight.(no pun intended). I don't hate you. If anything, I admire your guts and in a way I appreciate that you were willing to put your friendship on the line in the name of honesty. Having said that.....Buddy, I was stunned. If there was ever any guy that I would never suspect, it is you. My reaction, honestly? Unsure, still. I've laid in my bunk night after night, going over and over it in my mind, trying to figure it out. Telling me you are gay is one thing. Telling me you've got the hots for me; well, that adds a whole new dimension that may take me a little time to deal with. Scorn….. Disappointment...Anger....None of that registers. I am full of questions, though. Like, how did it happen? When did it happen? When did you know? Back in grade school, I remember all of the times we stayed over at each other's house and I never had a clue then. Or was it later, in high school? I've tried to think of all the times.....shit, I never had clue then, either. I guess it must have been in high school; you said since our freshman year. Does anyone else know? Are these dumb questions? Maybe, but I'm full of dumb questions right now.
DON"T move to California. I am open to talking about this. Shit, when was there ever anything we could not talk about? We've always been open and up front with each other. I just never expected THIS to come up front and hit me in the face. You've said a dozen times that you would come down to see me but I haven't seen hide nor hair of you; I guess we could both agree that this might be a good time. I would like for you to come down although I don't know when. That will have to be arranged with the marines. Tell you what, though, you promise not to try anything, I promise not to hit you (ha); I'm not that stupid.
YOUR buddy always
Doug

He waited anxiously for a reply. He couldn't imagine what Scott might write back. He had a hard time imagining them talking about it, by mail or in person. But it was out there and it had to be talked about. He was nervous every day at mail call, anxious for a letter but half-hoping he didn't get one. There was a tiny part of him that didn't want to confront the issue; that didn't want to face his old friend. A week later, a letter arrived.
He waited till after chow then showered and dressed and walked down the dimly lit company street with the letter in his pocket. He stopped under one of the street lights to read it.

Dear Doug;
I can't begin to tell you how relieved I was to get your letter. I was almost afraid to open it. I wondered at first if it wouldn't be wise to burn it and pack my bags for CA. Instead, I hope now to be packing my bags for SC.
I'm glad you don't hate me. It took a lot of guts to write what I did but I'm not sure that's something worthy of admiration from you, and thinking about it, I'm not sure how smart it was to put our friendship on the line like that. Honesty is good, but too often it hurts the wrong people. I was willing to take the hurt, but I never want to hurt you and I risked doing that. I can understand that I've thrown you a curve that's going to take some tine for you to deal with. That's okay. As for how or when it happened? I don't know exactly when. Maybe it was as early as grade school although I can't remember any particular thoughts; only that I loved being with you and I admired your body and your athletic prowess and I wanted so dam bad to be like you. And yeah, I cherished those times, too, when we stayed over and slept together. I remember I couldn't sleep with you so close beside me. But there wasn't a name put on it at that time. By high school I was beginning to come to grips with it and it scared the hell out of me. No doubt, by then I was advancing beyond mere admiration for your muscles; we'll leave it at that for now.
I can understand you having so many questions. So do I. As for HOW it happened. It's not something I chose for myself. I didn't wake up one day and decide I was going to be gay. It's something that is. That's the best I can explain it.
Thanks, Doug, for being willing to see me and talk about
this. I can't ask any more than that. I know I said I was going to come down and see you but now you know why I haven't. I didn't trust myself. I didn't trust myself being with you and I was afraid of doing or saying something that would give me away. With that out of the way for the time being, it's easier to talk about other things. First, know that there is no way you would get a Dear John letter from Chelsea. She's nuts about you. I don't want to sound too gross, but she's going to be all over you when you get home. I've never seen a girl so crazy about a guy. Anyway, if you ever do get a Dear John, you know now that it won't be because of me. The job is okay. It's no-brainer work but I like it and working in a warehouse keeps me in shape. I also still work out. By the way, no one else knows. I haven't felt the need to tell anyone else. Hey, when you left, I said I would write and you said you would send pictures. I'm writing. Send pictures.
Your buddy,
Scott

Doug heard the crunch of footsteps but was too engrossed to pay any attention.
"Dear John?"
Doug looked up at the guy walking past him. "Yeah," he lied.
"Bitch. Come on, I'll buy you a beer," the guy said.
"Uh, no....no, thanks. I've got some thinking to do," Doug said.
"Thinking about a Dear John is not good," the other marine said. "The best thing to do is, number one, get rid of the letter; number two, talk about it with somebody; and number three, forget about her, and at the earliest opportunity, get laid. You're a marine, that'll get you all the girls you want. But the first best remedy is a beer. It helps numb the hurt."
"No, thanks. I appreciate it, though," Doug said.
The guy walked on and Doug was alone under the street light with Steve's letter. Stuffing it into his pocket, he half wished he had taken the guy up on his offer. Suddenly he took off running to catch up with him.
"Hey, hold on. I'll take that beer after all!" he called out.
"Good man," the guy said. He waited for Doug to catch up with him and clamped him on the shoulder and stuck out his hand. "Conner Best, from E company."
"Doug Brady. A company."
"Let's go get you a beer," Conner said.
Doug liked Conner. He was open and friendly and he needed somebody like that at this time in his life. They walked into the crowded PX and Conner got them two beers.
"If you try real hard you can pretend this isn't 3-2 and it'll have the desired effect," Conner said as he slid into the booth across from him.
"I don't know if even the real stuff would help right now," Doug said.
"Well, let the healing process begin," Conner said as he raised his glass in a salute.
Doug clinked his bottle against Conner's and they both took long, hard drinks.
"So, wanta tell me about it? How long did you go with her? Is it your best friend? It's usually from your best buddy, the guy you trusted to look after her. Hey, it's not from your wife, is it?"
“No, I'm not married," Doug replied. Something about Conner made him want to tell him the truth of the matter.
"High school sweetheart?" Conner asked. "That’s the most common. It's all very romantic when her man goes off to the marines, she gets to talk about it with all her friends and go ga-ga over your letters, but after awhile the novelty wears off and other guys start looking good to her."
"We've been together since high school," Doug said. "But it's not from my girlfriend."
"Son-of-a-bitch!" Conner swore. "It's your best friend, and she had HIM write the fuckin' letter!"
"No, no. It wasn't a Dear John," Doug said.
Conner scowled. "You said it was."
"I lied," Doug admitted. "Actually....shit, man, you're not gonna believe this....it was from my best buddy from high school.....telling me he's gay."
Conner's mouth dropped as he reared back in a double-take. He looked all around then leaned over the table. "Say that again, only softer, just to make sure I heard you right."
"You heard me right," Doug said.
"Your best friend is gay?! Geezuss, how does a guy have the balls to tell you that?"
Doug laughed. "That's not the worst part," he said, shaking his head. "He's got the hots for me."
"He SAID that?!"
"Quote."
"Dam! What're you gonna do? What're you gonna say to him? Or are you even going to write back?"
"I don't know," Doug lied. "It's going to take awhile to get over the shock."
"You didn't have any idea?"
"No. He was a jock, just like me. We played sports from grade school all through high school. I never had a clue."
"Shit, this could be worse than a Dear John, in a way," Conner said. "You can get another girlfriend. It's pretty hard to replace your best friend." Then he smiled, a wide, mischievous grin that made his eyes dance. "But, hey, maybe it's not as bad as it seems. Maybe you shouldn't replace him. Maybe it'd be real handy, having a best friend that's gay. You know what
I mean?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean but I don't think I could do that to him," Doug said.
"No, you've got it backwards. He does it to you."
"Naw," Doug said, shaking his head. He took another drink of beer. "That would be too weird. Maybe I can just forget about it, forget he ever told me."
"Yeah, right," Conner scoffed. "Like you're gonna go home and come face to face to this guy and not give it a thought that he's gay. That he's got the hots for you and wants to drag you off to the woods."
"I don't know," Doug said. "I don't know what I'm going to do."
The place was closing and they had to leave. They walked back together toward Doug's company.
"You ever had a blow job?" Conner asked.
"No."
"Well, if you ever wanta find out what it's like, there's a guy over in Dog Company."
"How the hell do you know that?" Doug asked.
"Trust me, a lot of guys know."
"How the hell can he even still be in the marines if so many people know about him?"
"Who's dumb enough to ruin a god thing?" Conner said. "Anyway, if you're interested, I'll set you up."
"Like, where?"
Conner laughed. "This is the best part. The field sergeant knows about him, too. He furnishes the place......his room, right in the barracks......for return favors from the guy, of course, any time he wants. Shit, some nights the guy sleeps in the sergeant’s room."
"There're a hundred guys who know this guy is taking guys in and out of the first sergeant's room and nobody reports it?"
"Well there're not a hundred guys who KNOW it. And those that do don't want to ruin a good thing," Conner said.
They were at Doug's barracks. They said good-night and Conner said to come over and look him up sometime. As he was undressing in the soft darkness Doug began to feel guilty about telling Conner about the letter. It was sort of like betraying Scott. He decided he needed to write to him, right then. He went out to the outside landing where there was more light.

Dear Scott;
I don't like thinking that you are relieved over my letter or that you were afraid to open it. What else did you expect from your best friend? I can't think of anything you could do that would put our friendship at risk. I will tell you, I was surprised but flattered to learn that you admired my body and my athletic prowess. There's a weird kind of pride knowing that you wanted to be like me but hey, there was no reason for you to be like me. You were a jock yourself. Sorry I kept you awake all those nights that we slept over (ha).
Scott, I don't know how you came to grips with it, and I admire you for that. Hell, I've wrestling with it myself, and I'm not the one who is gay! I can only imagine how it scared the hell out of you when you first faced it. I only hate it that you went through all of this back in high school by yourself. Of course, maybe I couldn't have dealt with it back then. I don't know......
I can understand how it would be pretty hard for you, being in the marines.
Fuck, don't thank me for being willing to see me and talk about it. You make it sound like I'm granting you an audience. I'm glad to hear that I'm in so solid with Chelsea. You never know. I know a guy who was engaged when he came in and he got a letter saying she had fallen in love with his best friend, who was supposed to be taking care of her. I guess he was taking care of her all right. Good to know that you will never be the cause of a Dear John from Chelsea. I had to laugh over that one. I'm not gonna mind her being "all over me" when I get home. I intend to be all over her, too. I'll put in for a pass and let you know what happens. Stay in shape!

Your buddy,
Doug

Despite the tone of his letter Doug wasn't sure he believed it all himself. He wasn't sure he felt the way he said. He was having a hard time imagining Scott doing anything like that.....taking a guy's cock in his mouth. Taking HIS cock in his mouth! He thought about the guy Conner had told him about. Gotta stop thinking about it. Getting a hardon. He turned over on his stomach and buried his hardening cock in the mattress.
He enclosed some pictures with the letter. Maybe it was pride, or something else; maybe it was cruel, but he included pictures of him in his shorts that some guy had taken when he was snapping pictures of everyone all over the barracks. The next day he put in for a pass. He got the usual crap from Sgt. Harris; what had he done to deserve a pass?
"I don't necessarily deserve it, Sarge, that's the reason I'm
ASKING for it," he told him.
Harris softened and assured him it would be on his desk for the weekend. Doug panicked. He hadn't expected to get a pass that quick and he didn't know if Scott could make it on such short notice. But he couldn't tell Sgt. Harris he wanted the pass at a later date; chances were good that he wouldn't get one at all. He had to call Scott; there wasn't time to write. That night after chow he went to the bank of phones outside the service club.
"Doug! Dam, I'm glad you called!" Scott exclaimed. He sounded a little breathless.
"It's good to hear your voice," Doug said. "Look, I've only got a minute. I got the pass, but it's for this weekend."
"I can do that," Scott said.
"You can? Great! But you need to understand that my plans can change at the last minute. One of the officers or NCOs can get a burr up his ass and cancel the pass for no reason. So you could be coming down here for nothing," Doug warned.
"I'll take that chance," Scott said.
"Okay. I'll make the arrangements from this end," Doug said.
"Great. I'll see you, uh......when? I mean, what time, and where?"
"I won't get off duty till after Saturday morning inspection," Doug said. "It's usually over by ten unless somebody screws up. I'll have a room at the Falcon. I can probably be out there by noon, in time for us to get something to eat."
"The Falcon is a motel?" Scott asked.
"Yeah. I'll give them your name so you can get a key in case you get there before I do."
"All right."
"There's a cafe right next door," Doug went on.
"All right," Scott said again.
There was an edge of uneasiness coming into their tone and Doug cut it off with a quick "Good-bye, I'll see you."

Inspection went well. Nobody fucked up and they were dismissed by nine-thirty. Doug picked up his pass and headed for the main gate where he got a cab to the Falcon Motel. It would be too early to check in but he wasn't going to hang around the base.
Scott wasn't there yet so he went over to the cafe to wait. It grew into an agonizing wait. The more time passed, the more unsure he was about them meeting. How do you greet your best friend after he's told you he's gay? He sat at a window booth and watched every car that drove up. He wondered if Scott had changed much. Other than being gay. Finally, he saw him get out of a Jeep that had pulled up in front of the motel. He jumped up, grabbed his bag and rushed outside as Scott was heading for the motel office.
"Hey! Scott! Over here!" he yelled as he walked across the lot to meet him.
How to greet him wasn't a problem. It came natural. They shook hands and Doug dropped his bag and they pulled each other into a tight bear hug, just like they did when Doug had left for the marines; like they had done hundreds of times on the football field. It felt different this time, though, feeling Scott's hard muscles pressing against his own. He had never been aware of that feeling before, even when they hugged skin to skin in the locker room.
"Dam, it's good to see you," Doug said.
"Yeah, you too," Scott said, sounding a little out of breath. He looked at his watch. "Inspection must have gone okay."
"Yeah, we manage to pull it off now and then," Doug said. "I wasn't expecting you this soon but I didn't want to hang around the base. It's too early to check in so I've been waiting in the cafe."
"Did you eat?" Scott asked.
"Uh....yeah, about five this morning," Doug said.
"I stopped for breakfast about an hour ago," said Scott. He picked up Doug's bag and they walked over to the Jeep.
"When did you get this?" Doug asked.
"About a month ago."
"Work must be going okay," Doug said.
"I get by," Scott said with a smug grin. "Here," he said, tossing him the keys. "I want you to show me around. Can you take me on base?"
"Sure, all you have to do is sign in," Doug said as he snatched the keys out of the air. "Are you sure you want to trust me to drive this thing?"
"Shit, if you can't drive a Jeep, you sure as hell don't belong in the marines," Scott said.
"Okay, let's go show you my world," Doug said as they climbed into the Jeep.
Scott wanted to stop in at an army surplus store they passed. Doug liked the place, too, for those things he couldn't get at the PX, such as training manuals. Scott bought a pair of fatigue pants, a pair of training shorts, and a couple of T-shirts.
As they were walking back to the Jeep, he said. "Dam, it even smells studly in that place."
"Smells like regular marine stuff to me," Doug said.
"That's what I mean."
They drove to the base and Doug took Scott into the gate house to have him sign in. As a bull-shit precaution, the guard asked to see Doug's drivers license.
Scott was all eyes as they droved on the base. "Uhh....do you think you can handle this?" Doug asked with a sly grin.
Scott looked at him and laughed, an easy laugh.
Doug drove around the base, showing Scott the training fields, the rifle range, and the infiltration course and explained the training as best he could.
"I can easily imagine you out there doing all of that stuff," Scott said.
"I couldn't, till I found my sorry ass out there," Doug said.
"Don't tell me you were scared," Scott said. "I never knew you to be afraid of anything or anybody."
"You don't know fear till it grabs you in the belly, and come face to face with a DI," Doug said. "And I guess I never knew I was going to learn a hundred ways to kill a man."
"It is the marines," Scott pointed out.
"Hey, do you want to go to the PX?" Doug asked.
"Sure."
"If you see anything you want, I'll have to buy it for you," Doug told him.
Their last stop was the barracks. Doug pulled the Jeep into a graveled lot with large rocks lined up around the perimeter.
"What's this?" Scott asked.
"It's where I live," Doug said. "That's my barracks."
"You're going to take me in your barracks? I didn't know that was allowed."
"I can take a guest in.....a male guest.....during off-duty hours," Doug said. They walked across the lot. "There's not much to see, really, I just thought you might want to see it."
"Oh, I do," Scott said. "The more I see, the more I understand your life as a marine."
"Well, it's a lot more than I'm showing you."
Scott was like a little boy in Disneyland, Doug thought. He walked him through the downstairs, showed him the showers and the latrine. Then he took him upstairs. "That's my bunk, down at the end," he said as they walked down the aisle between the rows of bunks. Scott stood looking down at the bunk for a long moment, then looked around the area.
"Not much space, I know," Doug said, "but all we do is sleep here and it's a place to keep our shit, in the locker."
Scott was quiet as they walked back through the barracks.
"How come you're so quiet?" Doug asked. He thought Scott might be feeling bad that he hadn't joined the marines with him, and he was sorry he'd brought him on base. He didn't want it to seem like he was rubbing it in.
"Just thinking, trying to picture you here," Scott said with a wave of his hand, "and back in the barracks, living with a hundred other guys. It's such a different world. It might be hum-drum to you, but it's very impressing.....almost overwhelming..... to an outsider like me."
"Well, I'm glad you're impressed," Doug said, a bit more relieved.
"It must make you feel like such a stud just putting on the uniform," Scott said.
"It's work clothes, just like anyone else," Doug said.
"The dress uniform certainly isn't work clothes."
"Okay, that makes you feel like a stud," Doug admitted.
"Not that you need a uniform for that."
Doug looked at his watch. "Come on, I'll see if I can get you into the mess hall."
Scott had to sign in as a civilian guest and Doug had to pay for his meal. The placed seated about three hundred and it was full. They got in line.
"I hope you don't mind waiting in line," Doug said. "THAT is what the marines is all about."
"No, I don't mind at all. This is all a real experience for me."
The guy in front of them turned around. "Civilian buddy?"
"Yeah," Doug said.
The guy laughed. "You don't know what an experience you're in for, eating here," he told Scott.
They took their trays and found a table. "I must stick out like a sore thumb," Scott said.
"No, you don't. He just overheard you say it was an experience being here."
Several guys came by their table to speak to Doug. He introduced them to Scott as his brother.
"I didn't know you had a brother," one of them said. "You never mentioned a brother."
"He's adopted, I don’t claim him unless I have to," Doug joked.
"How come he's not in the marines?" another asked, looking Scott up and down.
"He's the smart one," Doug replied.
They took their time eating. For some reason, Doug wasn't in any big rush to get to the motel. He went back for seconds and urged Scott to go with him. All the while he was thinking that he would come back to the barracks instead of staying in the motel.
"The food isn't all that bad," Scott said as they sat down again with full trays. "It certainly looks like it keeps everybody healthy."
"Can I ask you something?" Doug said.
"Sure."
"Does it bother you, sitting here among all these guys?"
It took a moment for a smile to come across Scott's face.
"It could if I let my imagination run wild," he replied, looking all around.
They sat and talked till the place was thinning out. Doug looked at his watch. "We could probably get checked in if you want to go back to the motel," he said. "Unless you want to see something else."
"No, let's go back," Scott said.
Driving back through the base, they passed a playing field where a bunch of guys were playing touch football. They had their shirts off and wore shorts. Doug slowed down.
"Do you want to stop and watch?" he asked.
"No, that's okay," Scott said.
But Doug noticed that he didn't draw his eyes away from them till he had to. As they were driving out the gate, Scott asked in a curious tone, "Why did you slow down back there, and ask me if I wanted to stop and watch them play ball?"
Doug was a little a taken aback by his question. "I don't know, I thought you might want to watch," he said with a shrug. He glanced over at him. "Okay, I thought you might want to get a real good look at the guys."
Scott smiled. "Thanks. That's very considerate and understanding," he said.
“You need to know, this is sort of awkward for me,” Doug said. “I mean, I don’t really know what to say, or how I’m supposed to treat you.”
“You’re doing fine,” Scott assured him.
They were quiet during the short drive back to the motel.
"I hope they've got our room ready," Doug said, to break the silence. But hearing himself say it made him feel funny. He wasn't just checking into a motel with his best friend; he was checking into a motel with a gay guy. At the motel, before getting out of the Jeep, Doug said, "For the record, I checked us in as brothers," he said.
Scott gave him a funny look. "Okay."
"That's in case anybody happens to see us going in or leaving the motel," Doug explained. “That’s the reason I introduced you as my brother back in the mess hall.”
"That's smart."
They went in together because Doug said it wouldn't look right for him to go in with another guy waiting in the Jeep. They both registered and he glanced over to see Scott using his last name, Brady. Then Scott pulled out his wallet.
"You're not paying for this," Doug said.
"Yeah, I am."
"Wrong," Doug said, pulling out his wallet.
"Okay, we'll split it," Scott said.
"Look, do you really want to mess with me?" he warned.
"Okay, okay, Bro," Scott said, laughing. "It's not worth fighting over."
They picked up their keys and drove around to the back of the motel. It was built almost in the side of the mountain, on the order of a lodge, three floors with a high-pitched roof. The lobby downstairs had a fireplace and rustic furniture, with mounted heads of wild game on the walls. Their room was on the top floor. Doug had to keep his hand from shaking as he unlocked the door. The room was furnished much like the lobby, with a big four-poster bed and the head of a ten-point buck on the wall over the headboard.
Doug noticed immediately that there was only one bed. Stupid! He'd forgotten to ask for two beds. Well, he couldn't make an issue of it now. It was a king-size bed, there was plenty of room.
"This is nice," Scott said as he looked all around. He went to the sliding doors that opened onto a balcony. "Yeah, real nice."
"Not much of a view," Doug said, "unless you like looking at the side of a mountain."
"It beats looking at the parking lot," Scott said as he began unpacking his bag. Doug stayed out on the deck.
"Aren't you going to unpack your shit?" Scott asked.
"Naw, I didn't bring that much," Doug said.
Scott laughed. "You know how to travel. I'll bet you've been here before."
"A couple of times," Doug admitted.
"I'm going to shower off some of the road grime," Scott said.
"Okay." Doug glanced at his watch; he seemed to be doing that a lot. Three-thirty. Still a lot of the afternoon left, and it was going to be a long night. He half wished he'd gotten the room for just Scott; he could've visited then gone back to the barracks for the night. It was too late for that. He turned the television on; he wanted to have something to occupy his attention when Scott came out of the bathroom. He wasn't prepared when he did.
Scott came out still drying off, naked as when they used to shower together back in school. Doug was a little surprised to see him in such great shape. He had put on muscle that didn't show under his clothes and he didn't have an ounce of fat on him. He was tanned except for a very narrow white strip around the middle. A very small white strip which made Doug wonder what kind of swimsuit he wore, and where he found to wear it. He tore his eyes away from the guy's naked body and focused back to the television.
"That shower is great," Scott said. "It's got four shower heads. But you already know that," he added with a grin.
"No, I never had a room here with four shower heads," Doug said. He was glad when Scott put on a pair of shorts. They were the skimpiest shorts he'd ever seen, but Scott looked good in them. He wondered where he got them. He wondered how he would look in them.
Scott sat on the edge of the bed and bounced up and down to test the mattress. "You need to let me pay for half of this," he said.
"I thought we already had that settled," Doug growled. "You had the expense of driving down here." He asked about Chelsea to change the subject. Strange that he hadn't thought about her before.
Scott filled him in on everything he could think of; even where they went on their "dates."
"I really am glad you’re there for her," Doug said. "Keeps her from going astray," he added with a sly grin.
"Who keeps you from going astray?" Scott asked.
"I don't need a keeper," Doug said.
"You, uh.....you said you've been here before," Scott said. "Would Chelsea be okay with that? I mean, is it something you guys talked about before you left?"
"Yes, it's something we talked about and no, she would not be okay with it," Doug replied sternly. "And I hope I can trust you not to mention it to her."
"You know me better than that," Scott said.
"Just be careful you don't slip," Doug said. "I know it's hypocritical of me, but after awhile it just builds up. I don't know, sometimes I think the training pumps too much testosterone and I gotta get rid of it."
"Did you and Chelsea ever.....you know, before you left?"
"No. Chelsea and I have never done anything together."
Scott's mouth dropped. "You're kidding!"
"No, I'm not kidding. She would never let me, and I respected that. Not enough not to keep trying, but I respected it."
"But she's crazy about you," Scott said.
"Maybe so, but she sure knew how to keep the lid on things."
"Somehow, I don't think she would mind your blowing off a little steam now and then," Scott said. "Hell, you're in the marines."
"Somehow, I don't think that would cut any ice with her," Doug said.
"So you're never going to tell her."
"Not till we've been married for about fifty years," Doug replied.
They talked of sports, and how the team was doing. Not very well. Not well at all, since their senior year. They talked about Scott's job. He was an assistant foreman, with fourteen guys working under him. Doug looked at his watch again. AGAIN.
"Are we going to eat supper at the cafe, or do you want to go someplace more exotic?" he asked.
"Unless you're starving, I ate enough at the mess hall to last me till morning," Scott said.
"Okay, we'll get a pizza," Doug suggested. He ordered the pizza and two six-packs of beer.
"Would you rather have gone out?" Scott asked when he hung up the phone.
"No, pizza's fine," Doug said but he knew his tone wasn't very convincing. He fixed a glass of ice water and walked out onto the balcony. Scott came up beside him.
"Doug, are you nervous about all of this?" he asked. "Because if you are, you can go back to the barracks to sleep. I'll understand."
"Why should I be nervous?"
"You just seem a little uncomfortable.....and there's just the one bed," Scott said.
"Naw, I'm always sort of on edge. It gets engrained in you, from the training," Doug said. He looked back into the bedroom. "It's a king-sized bed and besides you promised not to try anything, remember?"
"Yeah, I'm always making stupid promises I gotta keep," Scott joked.
Doug downed three beers with his pizza. It felt good. He needed the buzz to help him relax with his old buddy. If he was relaxed, Scott wouldn't be so uptight about him being so uncomfortable. When they were finished eating they went out on the deck with their beer. Scott held his bottle up in a toast.
"Here's to old friends," he said.
Doug returned the toast and they both downed a long swig of beer.
"Looks like the marines taught you how to drink," Scott said. "I don't know if I can keep up with you."
"It's not a drinking contest," Doug said.
"Well, just so you know, beer makes me sleepy, horny and it makes me piss all night,” Scott said.
"If you're asleep, being horny isn't going to do you much good anyway," Doug joked.
"And if I was horny and sober?"
"I was just joking," Doug said. He was feeling the effects of the beer, too, and it scared him a little that he might not be able to keep his senses about him. This was the last of a six-pack, and he'd downed it in a pretty short time. It was a good feeling, though. Relaxed, laid-back, at ease. They both agreed it was time to go to bed.
"Which side?" Scott asked at the foot of the bed.
"Doesn't matter. It's not an issue with me anymore, sleeping in a bunk all the time."
Scott crawled in, leaving the side closest to the balcony for Doug. When he came in from the balcony, Doug left the sliding doors open. He pulled his shirt out of his jeans and shrugged it off. He unbuckled his belt, aware of Scott watching him. Not ogling him, but watching.
"Don't get pissed at me for looking," Scott said. "You must have a hundred pairs of eyes looking at you every day."
"But not with the same thoughts behind those looks," Doug said.
"So far as you know."
"Okay, so far as I know," Doug said.
"What if you did know?" Scott asked. "What if one of your buddies confided that he was gay?"
"Technically, I would have to turn him in."
"Would you?" Scott asked.
"No, I don't think so."
"Why?"
"Because it's none of their damned business, and the don't-ask-don't-tell policy is a lot of bull shit. It shouldn't matter. If I find myself in a tight situation I don't care if the guy next to me is gay or not. I would rather have a gay guy looking at me in the shower than a straight guy who would steal your wallet, which has happened to me."
"Did you find out who did it?"
"Yeah. But we were cool about it. He admitted it and gave my wallet back to me, and he didn't take money."
It was of many silences that followed. Doug didn't know how to talk to his buddy anymore. He wished Scott would say something. He could feel the air getting thin and they needed to talk.
"Say whatever you're thinking right now," Doug said quietly.
"Don't say that unless you mean it," Scott said.
"I mean it. We've always been able to talk to each other, about anything. This should be no exception. But we're lying here like two strangers," Doug said. "And I don't sleep with strangers," he added.
"Okay. I find it very hard to take my eyes off of you," Scott said. "Shit, my throat is dry, just looking at you, and I know you're not comfortable with that."
"Hhmmm, I thought you would say your mouth is watering," Doug said jokingly.
"Don't torture me with your sick humor," Scott said. "You don't know what it's like to be on this side of the fence looking at somebody like you."
"Are you completely on that side of the fence? I mean, you don't date or see women at all anymore?" Doug asked.
"My dates with women consist of going out with Chelsea, as old friends," Scott said.
"You're sure that's all it is?" Doug asked, chiding him.
"Trust me. That girl doesn't have a thought in her head that's not about you."
"Well, at least I know she's safe with you." He saw Scott's scowl. "I didn't mean it to sound that way," he said quickly. "I meant nobody's going to mess with her if she's with you. Hell, nobody's going to mess with you. By the way, does Chelsea know?"
"No."
"Are you going to tell her?" Doug asked.
"Maybe, when the time is right. I had to face you first," Scott said.
"Are you coming out? I think that's what they call it, isn't it?"
"No. Not completely. Just to those I know I can trust."
"You didn't know how I was going to react. How did you know you could trust me?" Doug asked.
"I trusted you implicitly, no matter what your reaction was. If for no other reason but to let me know honestly how you felt about it.”
There was another silence, broken first by Scott’s audible swallowing. “Doug, I promised I wouldn't try anything and you promised you wouldn't hit me. But I have to know....I have to ask....is there any chance....even the slightest chance that….that something could happen between us? I don’t mean right now, necessarily, but some day?”
"I don't think so," Doug replied without hesitation.
"Well, you didn’t hesitate with your answer, but that wasn’t a definite no," Scott pointed out.
"Look, I'm straight. You knew that when you came down here."
"straight guys like sex," Scott said.
"This straight guy likes straight sex," Doug said. He saw that he'd hurt Scott's feelings. "Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Don't be. I asked, you gave me your answer. I expect honesty from you."
"You didn't really think I would....."
"I didn't think one way or the other," Scott cut in. "My question was based on hope."
"Sorry to dash your hopes."
"Don't be sorry for anything. You don't know what it means to me that you let me come down here to see you."
"It means a lot to me, too. Not everybody is lucky enough to have a real friend. I am."
"Yeah, so am I. Promise me one more thing," Scott went on.
"Okay, if I can."
"If you ever do decide you're gong to jump the fence for a little while, even if it’s just a one-time thing, I would like for it to be with me. And if we ever do, I want you to lie and tell me it's your first time."
"I'm not very good at lying to you." Doug said. "You would know I was lying."
"That's okay, I'll believe it for that moment in time."
"It's all hypothetical anyway," Doug said. "If it ever happens, I wouldn't have to lie. It would be my first time."
Doug didn't like the way the conversation was going. More, he was afraid of it. "I think I'm going to catch some ZZZZs. There's a lot more I want to show you tomorrow," he said. He turned over and stretched out on his stomach.
"Is that a safety precaution, lying on your stomach?" Scott asked, laughing.
"No, I sleep on my stomach, that's all," Doug said.
Scott turned off the TV and the lamp. The last rays of dusk coming through the balcony doors cast the room in an eerie light. Within minutes, dusk gave way to the lights outside the building.
Sleep came surprisingly easy for Doug but it didn't last long. He came awake with an aching hardon. He discreetly glanced at his watch. It was only midnight. It wasn't a morning piss hardon. He squirmed, burrowing it into the mattress. In the quiet of the night he let his thoughts ramble, fueling his imagination. They weren't touching but they were lying close enough that he could feel Scott's body heat. It reminded him of other times, when they were kids. All of those times and he never had a clue. He wondered....if he had known....they were just kids....curious.....
He tried to go back to sleep. His head was still foggy from the beer but there was too much going through his head. Frightening stuff that he wanted to get away from, and sleep was the only escape. He lay there in the quiet of the dark for more than an hour. The darkness seemed to cast a spell over him, with the help of the warm feeling from the beer. In the quiet darkness, things began to appear in a different perspective. He turned over on side and gazed out the patio doors. Was Scott asleep, he wondered, or was he only pretending to be?
What was keeping him awake wore more heavily on his mind. He was in bed with a gay guy, for chrissakes! Scott wanted him, he made of secret of that. It was just him and Scott, alone, in a motel room. Nobody else would ever know. What could it hurt? He wondered how it would feel……
He turned onto his back and stretched out with his hands behind his head. His shorts bulged with his still aching hardon.
"Scott? Man, are you awake?" His voice was a hoarse whisper and it startled him. He hadn't intended to speak. He held his breath, waiting for some response.
"I've never been asleep," Scott replied softly. "I've been lying here watching you sleep."
Doug took in a quiet breath. He wished he hadn't spoken. If he'd pretended to be asleep, lying on his back, maybe Scott would've tried something on his own and he could have pretended to sleep through it. But he was wide awake and so was Scott, with only the quiet, soft darkness and a bare few inches separating them.
"Look…go ahead, if you want to," he said, his voice raspy.
Scott turned to look at him. "Huh?"
"It's just you and me.....and you came all the way down here, and I'm lying here with this big hardon."
"Don't mess with me, Doug," Scott said.
"You said if I ever decided to jump the fence........"
"I'm not sure you have," Scott said. "I think you're straddling the fence; you don’t know what you want.”
"You’re right. But one time isn't going to hurt, if it's what you want," Doug said.
"More than I ever wanted anything in my life," said Scott.
"I wouldn't have to lie to you. You would know its my first time," Doug said.
"Are you serious?"
"Reach over here and see if it feels like I'm kidding?" Doug said.
Scott hesitated. "What I feel is more than sex. You're more than that to me. It's how I feel about you, and how you feel about me that counts the most. You don't need to do this."
"You don't feel it for any other guy? The desire, I mean?" Doug asked.
"The desire, yes. But not everything else I feel, about you," Scott replied.
"Would it matter if I said I want you to?" Doug asked.
"It would matter a lot," Scott replied. "I just want to know you're not thinking with your balls."
"Look, I'm no stranger to the looks and the come-ons and the subtle propositions from gays, but I've never done anything," Doug said. "I never wanted to."
"Till now."
"Yeah, I'll admit it...part of it is knowing YOU want it," Doug said.
Scott reached over and laid his hand gingerly on Doug's stomach. Doug tightened and rippled his abs for him.
"Show off," Scott said as he rubbed his hand in circles, moving downward each time.