It was a Friday night, and I was on my way to what had become frequent visits to see Gem. The occasion was my youthful conviction that she held some secret key to sexual attraction. It wasn’t that she was good looking, truth be told, she was almost ugly although she had one great feature, her long straight, thick red hair. This conviction came from observing her with many guys, some of them not half bad looking. Although jocks were too much for my tastes, it seemed the last few times I’d popped in on her, she’d just had sex with yet another. She said she was working her way through the local university football team. And she was halfway there. Couple this with that night long past when I found her lying sprawled naked over some guy, and there you have it.
I decided she must know something I didn’t. I mean, it’s not like she was really pleasant to look at—blotchy skin, washed out, no hips, no ass and no breasts. I could go on but one doesn’t want to be unkind. Yet still she got the guys. She must have known something I didn’t. Then there was the letterman’s jacket some jock gave her. She wore it all the time. Not that I had even the remotest interest in the football type, but the jacket was cool. So there you have my motivation as I went to hear another episode in the continuing Sexual Adventures of Gem.
We sat in her tiny kitchen in the typical one-bedroom three-storey walk-up; the typical student rental. You know the kind—built like a small box with the bathroom and bedroom taking up the back half. Living room square in the middle complete with that seedy carpeting of the faded mustard variety. The galley kitchen and entrance completed this picture of trashy opulence with chipped parquet flooring.
Gem was all a twitter as she poured our wine. She’d discovered new neighbours across the hall. She thought one of them was a guy we’d both just die for; even I would jump his bones in a minute given the chance. Tim Helmeke. Our diminutive Adonis with the beautiful long black hair and the large blue eyes fringed with thick long lashes. We sat and swooned over him while debating whether it could really be him. Without concrete proof, and with wine-induced mutual daring, we decided to make our discovery. Consumed with fits of giggles, we finally manage to knock on their door. Our knock was answered by the ugliest guy, bar none, I’ve ever seen. Our laughter escalated to wheezing and we choked out our query as to the identity of the occupants of the apartment. This bear of a guy, Dalton, told us that he and his roommate, Tom, lived there. Yes, they were from Listowel, and no, his name was not Tim, it was definitely Tom. We grilled him about Tom’s appearance, certain there was some mistake. After all, we wanted it to be Tim. Dalton invited us in to see for ourselves.
Gem and I sat on the couch adjacent to the bathroom door with Dalton in a stuffed chair nearby. A reclining chair occupied the other corner of the small room. While we chatted about their life in Listowel and whether we’d ever met, the bathroom door opened and, in a cloud of steam, out stepped a small man with an absolutely perfect body wrapped only in a small white towel. The body and eyes could have been Tim’s, but the hair was thick, shoulder length and brown. Tom had arrived in my life. I’d only seen one other body as beautiful as Tom’s, and Neil, that was his name, was much better looking. But, for all his looks, Neil’s arrogant reserve disturbed me, and I wasn’t one to dwell on the unattainable. Tim also hadn’t known I as alive. I’d never actually believed that one of these masters of physical perfection would ever notice me, never mind want to have sex with me.
Tom walked past me to the recliner and lay back in it. The chair was at such an angle that I had the perfect view of his superbly formed muscular leg. Dalton quickly introduced us and explained why we were there. Tom just laughed then listened to our nervous chatter. Some time later, still clothed in his towel and reclining in his chair, he offered us something to drink. It ended up being tequila.
After several drinks and what quickly became boisterous conversation, Gem and I decided it was time we left while we could still walk, although barely. The guys found out that we were spending the night at my place, and Tom invited himself along. In my usual tactful way, I said yes but only if he slept on the floor. The other bedroom belonged to my roommate and was off limits.
It was late and we were fairly drunk so we went to bed shortly after we arrived at my towne house. I occupied the large master bedroom, which had plenty of room for a mattress on the floor beside the double bed. Gem and I shared the bed.
… to be continuted….
