Geoff and Chet

Chapter 09 Spa time and stargazing

Author's Note: This is a work of fiction, part of a multi-chapter, two part novella. Copyright, 2023. All characters portrayed in sexual situations are over 18. The chapters in Part I are told almost entirely from Geoff's POV and cover the period until the move to Houston and the commencement of the new school year. BD

It was a strange and lonely night. I missed Chet in my bed—and it's been only a few days and nights. But, I also appreciated that we had had a terrific day and a much better evening. I was certainly satisfied. (That doesn't mean I wasn't hard again just thinking about him.) And that lazy southern sex was something else. It creates an intimacy, a slow build up of tension, and sensual appreciation for the sexual act itself as well as the climax. It really fits with my own style of pleasuring my partner, but less intense. But I feel empty now. I know guys miss dick when it softens and pulls out. Is it possible to miss a nice warm tight sheath? I think so. Particularly when that sheath belongs to a hunk like Chet.

I woke early, did laps in the pool, showered, and got my things minimally ready before the house cleaners arrived. I made breakfast for all of us. And then I left a note that I was heading to the gym and to my barber, expecting to be home just after lunch. I was going to try to see if the guys want to do lunch at the pub. If not, I'd get a protein shake when I get home.

I had called the barber for an appointment and told him I wanted the full spa treatment. My hair was long and needed to be styled. I think I'm going to go for the Italian film star look with medium long hair, a sharp part, light pomade, and sharp edging and sideburns. Mom would appreciate me doing that before she got home. She always called me her Italian stallion—not Stallone, Mastroiani—how Ferrari of her. When we saw

Sex in the City

, she remarked that I resembled that handsome Italian stallion bit-part player who screws Pat Cattrall when her steady fails to show--she ogles his body in the shower at Malibu—as did most of the women and men in the theatre. Mom knew that I wasn't attracted to women, particularly cougars, but the guy was sure hot. It's not easy to project two images together: cool and controlling, but very fuckable. I am going to take a good shot at both.

Then there would be a shave and a facial. My eyebrows were almost Neanderthal, so they needed serious trimming. The three-day stubble was fine for summer, but at med school, I wanted to be clean shaven—facial hair was really inconvenient with masking--so I'd be back to a twice daily shave. And finally, in the private spa in the back, reserved for guys, a full body shave/wax or whatever was needed. I would have to find a place like this in Houston—unless of course Chet volunteered his services. I can hope.

I texted friends about lunch and at least two agreed to meet, promising to call the gang. So I left for the gym. After a workout and a long shower, I drove to Lucca's Barbershop and Men's Spa where I spent a few hours getting tuned up.

I arrived just in time for lunch, feeling very much the film star with my white linen button up shirt, dark slacks, and reflective sun glasses. Heads, mostly female, turned when I walked in. Biff's was definitely macho, hetero territory. Lunch was great—and loud. Fortunately, we were at an outdoor barbeque. We all realized this was probably a farewell for some time. All of us were going in different directions—one to start a job in New York, one for law school, one for grad school. Future reunions would probably be infrequent and who knows what family issues might arise. "It's been a great ride, guys. I sure hope we don't lose complete contact." They asked where I had been for the last week and I explained briefly about Chet without any of the x-rated details. But, they guessed anyway. We were old friends; they knew then when I cruised, I was usually successful; and, they probably noticed a subtle smile when I mentioned his name. "So you have a new friend?"

"Yeah. He is really something. A champion cyclist and he'll be a senior at Rice this fall."

"I presume he is presentable and hung and receptive?"

"No comment."

"So you'll be seeing him in Houston?"

"I sure hope so. I think this guy may be a keeper." They teased me about my recent experience with hooking. And I reminded them that I had stayed with Connor for over a year. "I'm reformed—maybe even monogamous."

"Sure, remind me that at Christmas when we meet again, you old horn dog." We said our farewells and bro-hugged, genuinely regretting that we had to part. These were my best childhood buddies. A guy needs a lover after a certain age, but he also needs bros with whom he can joke—and in whom he can confide.

Then, I drove home, changed, and cleaned up the pickup as I waited for Mom's homecoming. She arrived later in the afternoon, the limo driver lugging in several huge suitcases. She was a stunning woman: tall, long legged, tanned, long straight dark hair, beautiful figure, even her travel clothes wreaked of chic. "There is more coming by DHL. The dollar is so strong now that I couldn't resist the fashion shows in Milan and Rome. Italians do make the best clothes in the world. I got all of my men some of those wonderful Italian cotton shirts and cashmere and silk sweaters." Dad explained dinner was being catered, delivery set for 6:30. Mom announced she desperately needed a bath and change. And then it would be show and tell time. "I want to know everything about what has happened to my boys in my absence. Brett, do you have any Prosecco chilled? I could use a glass while I'm in the tub."

"I'll bring it in to you, and maybe I'll join you." He left with a broad smile in anticipation.

Later, we spent hours talking—notwithstanding that we had Skype-d almost every day. She complimented me on my haircut. "I can't believe how Italian you look. And I certainly haven't seen a much better '

bello figuro'

in the last few weeks. Matt, please note. This is on our agenda for tomorrow." But, of course, Matt, resembling Dad, didn't look the slightest Italian and wasn't yet into male-preening—probably because the chicks just loved his immature, slightly disheveled Celtic look. She was intrigued by the meeting with Chet and with my obvious attraction to him. "Invite him here for dinner on Thursday. I want to meet him before you all leave for Houston."

To which Matt added, "Really not meet, rather grill. Make sure he knows he'll be the main course."

"Now, now. Be nice. It's my first day back and your brother will be gone in a few days."

After dinner, Mom and Dad headed back for some private time. I went to my room and texted Chet. Quickly he responded. Surprise. I thought that he'd be with the Pierces still. "Missed you today."

"And I missed you."

"Everything is quiet here now."

"Here too. They were exhausted from Vegas."

"Want to do some stargazing? It's a beautiful, clear night."

"Sure. But I only have about a couple of hours. I need to rest with hard training tomorrow."

"I'll be there in fifteen to pick you up."

I threw a few sleeping bags in the pickup which I had thoroughly detailed that afternoon, checked for lube in the glove box, packed the stash just in case, and headed over to pick Chet up. He was waiting at the foot of the drive and jumped into the cab. Before buckling, he leaned over and kissed me. He smelled like he had just emerged from the shower and his hair was still a bit wet. "We're going to head a little southeast to get away from the Austin urban lights and deeper into the hills. It'll only take about 15."

"I see you got a Mommy haircut today. Matinee idol quality. Maybe, I can see your eyes now."

"And I got another kind of haircut too—just for you."

"I can't wait. I usually have to do that myself. I gave up Nicole's help more than a year ago."

We sat quietly and enjoyed each other's company. I wonder what he's thinking about right now? We drove into the wilderness, went off road and up to the crest of a hill that I knew pretty well. I was confident that we wouldn't have too much bug trouble, but before we settled in, I removed the bags, sprayed the entire bed of the truck and let it air for a minute or two. I lit a couple of repellent candles. Then I spread out the bags and placed my I-phone with its stargazer app on the bags. "Hop up." The sky was really lit. Totally cloudless. We could see galaxies into infinity. We lay there silently, pointing out constellations with the app's assistance, listening to a few crickets looking for mates. "What a cathedral! What a big sky! This is really awesome."

"Geoff, I wanted you to know that last night was one of the best of my life—until you left of course."

"I agree. I'm hoping for many more. I brought the stash. Do you want to use it?"

"I'm high enough already just being here beside you."

He rolled into me and I hugged him tight. He sucked just below my ear, drawing whimpers of pleasure from me. My hands strayed to his ass and I squeezed. We rolled together, cherishing the closeness with hands roaming over each other's body, caressing, massaging, stimulating—trying to crawl inside each other.

"This can't possibly be wrong."

"Of course not."

"I don't even think those thoughts anymore. We fit together like a finely crafted puzzle. If only we could isolate this part of our lives from the rest of the world." I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down. Thank the lord, he was commando and already semi-hard. I think it was becoming a permanent condition for both of us. I reached down to pull his pole into my mouth.

"I've the same idea. Spin around so I can play too." I was in shorts and he pulled them down so he had full access. We were both a bit salty and musky, but these were the perfumes and the tastes of the gods. This position was uniquely enjoyed by gays—what could be better than two guys pleasuring each other simultaneously with tongues and fingers. Each of us had double handfuls of ass and were pressing poles into warm, moist pleasure boxes. Add a finger or two to the prostate, savor the mutual stimulation, and one knows the meaning of paradise. Feeling each other getting close, we rolled back, but maintained contact with cupped and fondled balls.

Chet began, "Stargazing always reminds me of the time I was into Greek mythology. Like everything else, I was all-in and learned it all. Dad was scandalized when he found my Bulfinch, sure I was into another religion—perhaps even witchcraft. He made me stop and he even confiscated the 'pagan book'—which incidentally was illustrated with many naked gods, all strangely with very small dicks. Greek mythology and Southern evangelical Christianity do not mix. But, there is one important story that modern classics teachers tend to ignore although it was near and dear to the x-rated actual Greek style of life. I pointed to the constellation Aquarius and its brightest star. That's Ganymede, appointed by Zeus as the 'cup bearer to the gods.' He didn't just pour wine. He was actually a demi-god, one of the many half-human progenies who spent time both on earth and in Olympus, who sucked or wanked off the gods while they reclined to dine—filling cup after cup with their divine nectar, mixing it with sweet wine to create the Elixir of Olympus. Is there no wonder that Ganymede was always so rosy and happy or why he shines so brightly every night? Someday, I'd like to go a banquet where a cute young guy sucks me off under the table while I converse with others. Meanwhile, I guess I'll have to be satisfied with you—perhaps mixed with a bit of wine!"

"You know. I think I've seen some mosaics of that guy. You remind me of him, Chet: young-looking, rosy-golden hair, light complexion, full pink lips, perpetual dimpled smile--only you're taller and much better endowed. You can be my cup-bearer forever."

And so we silently and slowly sucked elixir out of each other, caressing with our tongues, massaging with our lips while softly caressing balls, taints and asses with increasing urgency. A final digital plunge, tensed legs, deepened abdomens, and pressure on the p-spot and we came simultaneously, yet again. We spun around and shared our flavors as we embraced tightly. "I can never get enough of this. I don't want to release you. But, it's time to go."

On the way home, I advised Chet of his command performance before Mom on Thursday. I haven't told her anything about us, but Dad has guessed everything, and they don't keep secrets. He agreed to come and I warned she would be in full interrogation mode—and she tends to get quite personal when it involves her boys. "Just be yourself. And don't drop any f-bombs. Or, before you can even apologize she will be reaching for the soap bar—and believe me, I taste much better."

"What do you want to do tomorrow?"

"If I start early, I can do my ride and the workout by around 1 p.m."

"Don't start before dawn"

"Yes, Daddy."

"I think both of our homes are pretty crowded right now. How about a picnic? I presume you don't want to go on horseback." "You should audition for SNL with lines like that. But, a picnic sounds like a good idea. What should I bring?"

"Just yourself. I know of a grove with a stream which might still be flowing even this late in the season." "Then I can really show you my new haircut."

"OK by me. Becca insists on meeting you. Can we have a drink together tomorrow night? Now it's my turn to warn. She's pissed I didn't call her and report the accident. But, she's royally pissed that I met someone without her being there to make the introductions and do the interrogation. She always intended to be my matchmaker. We need to make sure she feels that she's been involved from the beginning. She can't feel jilted."

"Sure. Pick you up around 1. If things get too hectic, text me and we can make it later. For what I have in mind, I'd rather not invite her to the picnic—but we can have drinks after. Go ahead and confirm it."