Robert didn't waste any time. On Monday, he told his teacher he was interested in the teaching job and that he would move to Washington, D.C. to take the job. The instructor said he would begin the necessary paperwork, and if all went well Robert could begin in the soon-to-begin fall semester.
Robert would still be working for the Navy, so he had to remain firmly in the closet. It was 1978 and homosexuals were not allowed to serve in any branch of the military. That is, known homosexuals couldn't serve.
Robert's next step was getting an apartment, preferably near George Washington University in downtown D.C., where the class was held. The university had the added benefit of being a 15-minute walk to Dupont Circle, center of D.C.'s gay community.
Robert looked at ads for apartments in local papers and at notices posted on buildings. He didn't like the sterile newer apartment buildings and turned his focus to the older brownstones. Landlords charged a premium for their charm and character, so the challenge was to find something reasonably priced.
The property owner at one promising place turned out to be a racist creep whose eyes opened wide with fear when he met Robert, a large, dark-skinned black man.
The jerk pretended he was Robert's best friend, saying, "I'll be honest, Bob. You don't want this place. It's roach infested and the students across the hall smoke pot and play loud music. I couldn't in good conscience rent this to a Navy man."
Yea, right. First, don't call me Bob, it's Robert. Second, take your lying bullshit and shove it. That's what Robert wanted to say but he knew it would be a waste of breath. 'Jeezus,' he thought, 'there's progress and then there's the same old shit.'
A few days later Robert was standing in front of a brownstone waiting for the landlord. It was on a quiet street with a grocery store nearby. It was close to gay nightlife without being right in the thick of it.
"Hello, are you Robert?" asked the attractive young blond. Must be Jerry, the landlord.
Robert and the youth shook hands and quickly sized each other up. Jerry saw a tall, good looking, muscular 32-year-old black man with a great smile and a short Afro wearing tight khaki pants, a button-down shirt and carrying a briefcase. Jerry noticed the pants showed off a healthy crotch bulge.
Jerry was a slim white guy, maybe 25 or so, with medium length blonde hair over hazel eyes. He wore jeans and a form-fitting short-sleeved shirt that showed off his solid muscle definition. Jerry had the gay look of the day with a moustache and cowrie shell necklace.
Each man had the same thought -- Not bad. Robert had a slight advantage in the cruise culture of the late 1970s because Jerry was clearly gay while Robert's straight look made him a question mark. Sex was so open you never knew what might happen.
Jerry opened the street door, then pulled out his key and unlocked the stairway door leading to the apartment.
"The place is on the top, the third floor. It's completely furnished, kitchen, bathroom. That was done two-years ago, so it's all close to new," said Jerry. "I've been living in it and it's great. I'd stay but I'm moving to Chicago for work."
Jerry explained he owned the building and was considering selling it. He had hired a management firm to maintain it and rent out the three apartments, each one taking up an entire floor.
The two walked up to the third floor and Jerry unlocked the door. The place had good light and a large open floor plan, like the lofts that were the current rage. Jerry apologized for the stale air and opened two windows -- one on the street side, the other on the alley -- to get a fresh breeze blowing through.
Jerry had already moved out, so the place was barren of furniture save for a chair and lamp. The apartment offered a nice view of the street while being high enough to reduce traffic noise.
Robert stood near Jerry as he gave a tour and made a point of bumping against the good-looking young man. He touched Jerry's arm when he asked a question. Jerry welcomed the man's approach and looked Robert in the eye as they spoke.
The kitchen was in the back. It was big enough for two and a door led to a balcony with space for a table and chairs for summer drinks with friends. The movers had left behind a dented pot, some glasses, cooking oil, and paper towels.
Robert loved the place but didn't want to appear eager. He said the bathroom was small and the sleeping area without a door would take getting used to.
They haggled over the price but soon agreed on a rent reduction if Robert would move in that month. Done. They shook on it and Jerry got a bottle of white wine out of the refrigerator and poured a glass for each.
"So, tell me what attracted you to this block?" asked Jerry, leading the conversation to the local gay population. He looked Robert over, lingering for a moment on his arms, then glanced at his basket.
"I like the neighborhood and I have friends in the area," said Robert. "There's restaurants, night life. Lots to do or you can relax and be removed from the bustle."
Jerry sipped his wine and threw out more hints, mentioning several popular gay spots. "I'll miss this place. Annie's is a great bar. Then there's the Modern Movies Theatre, it shows movies for grown-ups."
That's one way to describe it, thought Robert. Last week his lover Jamie had pointed out the theatre and mentioned it had two screens; one showed gay porn while the second featured artsy fair. Jamie said the place was notorious for cruising men trading blowjobs in the seats and the john.
The black stud sipped his wine and made eye contact with Jerry over his glass. He lowered the glass and his eyes moved down Jerry's body, being obvious about checking him out.
Robert decided to play dumb. "I've never been. Any good movies there?"
Jerry laughed nervously. "Tell you the truth I don't remember the names of the movies. I remember the stars. Jack Wrangler, Kip Noll, some others." He returned Robert's look. Most gay guys would know Jerry was listing top gay porn stars.
"Kip Noll. He's the humpy blonde, right?" said Robert. He looked Jerry in the eyes. "I've heard there's more action in the seats than on the screen. Is that right?"
"It gets hot," said Jerry. He licked his lips.
