five.”
Anthony’s frown turns into a smile. “You are a good guy,” he says.
The thought of little Jeffy brightens my mood. My sister Ann Marie named her son after me, a tribute that moves me more with each passing year, watching the boy grow. I’m glad that Ann Marie decided not to marry the lout who’d fathered her son, and I’m thrilled to play substitute daddy as often as I can. We live two hours apart, but I get down to Connecticut every couple of weeks, taking Jeffy to the carnival or Mystic Aquarium or the Pokemon movie. This time Henry’s going along. Jeffy’s used to gay men. He’s a good kid.
“So I may be green,” Anthony’s saying, folding his arms across his chest, “but I know enough that I gotta ask. Is Henry your boyfriend?”
Once more I laugh. “No, no, no, he’s just my sister”—though even as the words are out of my mouth, I regret the “just.” I know that sisters often last a lot longer than boyfriends. “But the guy with the goatee last night,” I say. “Do you remember him?”
“Sure. The cute one with the nice green eyes you were slobbering over.”
I blush, just a little. “It was the X. Anyway, we’ve been together, off and on, for many years.”
Anthony nods. “So he’s your boyfriend.”
I stammer a little. “Right now I’m just not sure. We’re ...”
Anthony raises his eyebrows, waiting.
“We’re—well, it’s hard to describe—”
“Family,” Anthony interjects. “You’re family, but even more than the way family is usually defined by straights.”
I smile. He remembered my words. It actually sort of touches me. But he’s not done.
“You can’t describe it, because there aren’t words,” he’s saying. “You don’t set limitations on each other, because you’re always surpassing them. You don’t let others tell you how you’re supposed to be. You’re true to yourselves and nobody else. You’re just who you are.”
“ Whoa.” I do a double-take. “Where did all that come from?”
Anthony shrugs. “Just something I picked up.”
“You are definitely not green,” I say, breaking into a broad grin. “Forgive me for thinking so.” I feel my dick stir again in my pants. Great abs, and a mind and heart, too. Who is this guy?
This could be dangerous , I tell myself. The old familiar quiver roils my belly.
Oh, yes. Dangerous, indeed.
Meanwhile, Uptown
Henry
Q uite frankly, I’m still staggered by the sex. Who knew? The Windex queen got me off not once, not twice, but three times —the last about nine A.M. , and only then did we fall asleep.
Even now, more than six hours later, I’m still a little shell-shocked, standing off to the side of the crowded store, watching Shane play with an enormous Slinky. A harried salesclerk finally asks him to put it down. Shane sticks his tongue out at him.
“You’re gonna get us kicked out of here,” I say, laughing.
“Believe me, I’ve been kicked out of a lot better than FAO Schwartz.” Shane makes a face, considering something. “As well as a lot worse .”
I look at my watch. “We still have a couple of hours before we have to meet Jeff.”
Shane holds aloft a bride doll and inspects under her skirts. “Just as I thought. Not anatomically correct.” He shifts his gaze over at me. “Are you sure Jeff’s not going to mind driving me back to Boston? It sure beats buying another Amtrak ticket.”
I take the doll from him and set it down. “Not if you don’t mind seeing Toy Story 2 with his five-year-old nephew.”
Shane makes a queasy face. “I love kids. Especially with Swiss cheese and sauerkraut grilled on rye.”
“You crack me up, Shane.”
He moves in close. “I do more than that to you, baby.”
I blush. Yes, it’s true. Shane’s biceps have no peaks, his gut is slightly squishy, his face so unremarkable that even a police sketch artist would have trouble capturing it—and still the sex had been awesome. Awesome! But as much as I might want to pat
Anthony’s frown turns into a smile. “You are a good guy,” he says.
The thought of little Jeffy brightens my mood. My sister Ann Marie named her son after me, a tribute that moves me more with each passing year, watching the boy grow. I’m glad that Ann Marie decided not to marry the lout who’d fathered her son, and I’m thrilled to play substitute daddy as often as I can. We live two hours apart, but I get down to Connecticut every couple of weeks, taking Jeffy to the carnival or Mystic Aquarium or the Pokemon movie. This time Henry’s going along. Jeffy’s used to gay men. He’s a good kid.
“So I may be green,” Anthony’s saying, folding his arms across his chest, “but I know enough that I gotta ask. Is Henry your boyfriend?”
Once more I laugh. “No, no, no, he’s just my sister”—though even as the words are out of my mouth, I regret the “just.” I know that sisters often last a lot longer than boyfriends. “But the guy with the goatee last night,” I say. “Do you remember him?”
“Sure. The cute one with the nice green eyes you were slobbering over.”
I blush, just a little. “It was the X. Anyway, we’ve been together, off and on, for many years.”
Anthony nods. “So he’s your boyfriend.”
I stammer a little. “Right now I’m just not sure. We’re ...”
Anthony raises his eyebrows, waiting.
“We’re—well, it’s hard to describe—”
“Family,” Anthony interjects. “You’re family, but even more than the way family is usually defined by straights.”
I smile. He remembered my words. It actually sort of touches me. But he’s not done.
“You can’t describe it, because there aren’t words,” he’s saying. “You don’t set limitations on each other, because you’re always surpassing them. You don’t let others tell you how you’re supposed to be. You’re true to yourselves and nobody else. You’re just who you are.”
“ Whoa.” I do a double-take. “Where did all that come from?”
Anthony shrugs. “Just something I picked up.”
“You are definitely not green,” I say, breaking into a broad grin. “Forgive me for thinking so.” I feel my dick stir again in my pants. Great abs, and a mind and heart, too. Who is this guy?
This could be dangerous , I tell myself. The old familiar quiver roils my belly.
Oh, yes. Dangerous, indeed.
Meanwhile, Uptown
Henry
Q uite frankly, I’m still staggered by the sex. Who knew? The Windex queen got me off not once, not twice, but three times —the last about nine A.M. , and only then did we fall asleep.
Even now, more than six hours later, I’m still a little shell-shocked, standing off to the side of the crowded store, watching Shane play with an enormous Slinky. A harried salesclerk finally asks him to put it down. Shane sticks his tongue out at him.
“You’re gonna get us kicked out of here,” I say, laughing.
“Believe me, I’ve been kicked out of a lot better than FAO Schwartz.” Shane makes a face, considering something. “As well as a lot worse .”
I look at my watch. “We still have a couple of hours before we have to meet Jeff.”
Shane holds aloft a bride doll and inspects under her skirts. “Just as I thought. Not anatomically correct.” He shifts his gaze over at me. “Are you sure Jeff’s not going to mind driving me back to Boston? It sure beats buying another Amtrak ticket.”
I take the doll from him and set it down. “Not if you don’t mind seeing Toy Story 2 with his five-year-old nephew.”
Shane makes a queasy face. “I love kids. Especially with Swiss cheese and sauerkraut grilled on rye.”
“You crack me up, Shane.”
He moves in close. “I do more than that to you, baby.”
I blush. Yes, it’s true. Shane’s biceps have no peaks, his gut is slightly squishy, his face so unremarkable that even a police sketch artist would have trouble capturing it—and still the sex had been awesome. Awesome! But as much as I might want to pat
Similar Books
