The truth was, Cam loved it. He thought it was sexy as hell and had no problem showing me just how turned on it got him. But Joe and Cam had never really warmed up to each other and it was easier to play down our relationship to Joe, than make an issue of it.
But, we definitely did have a relationship. Cam and I spent as much time as possible with each other and it was the most satisfying partnership I'd ever had. He was still controlling, but there were other benefits that more than made up for that. At least, that's what I told myself in the beginning.
The sex was great. Not, that Cam had changed his mind about how that side of things should go you understand. I never did get a chance at his ass. No the change was in me. I found that I really loved being a bottom. All he had to do was look at my butt and my hole would twitch in anticipation of having Cam's cock back where it belonged. Whatever other problems we faced, bed wasn't one of them.
But there were problems and as time passed they seemed to grow. Cam couldn't get past treating me like a kid. I know he tried, but he always ended up pulling rank. Nothing could piss me off faster than the feeling that I was just his gay version of a bimbo girlfriend. I had never thought of myself as a twink even when I was young enough to really deserve that title. It rankled me to think that now I was heading down that road.
Another issue between us was Cam's possessiveness. He really resented the time I spent away from him with my friends. I guess he had a point. Between my job and his, and then my school commitments, we didn't have much time to spend with one another.
But it was my senior year, and I wasn't about to give up everything that entailed for anyone. And it wasn't like Cam was willing to meet me halfway. Except for the occasional game or night at a bar, he was basically uninterested in what went on in my life. He said he'd already gone through college and had no desire to repeat the experience.
We ended up in an uneasy compromise. I hung out with my friends during the week, but found myself mixing with his friends on the weekends.
And that was the other problem. I wasn't that wild about his friends either. Somehow he'd latched onto this group of very wealthy, very successful gay men, who seemed to think they were a cut above everyone else. The only time they stooped to mix with anyone they didn't deem worthy, which was just about everyone, was when they trolled the bars, looking for fresh pretty faces they could show off to each other for a couple of months until the novelty wore off. Then they'd dump the poor kid and move on to their next victim.
I worried at first that this might be Cam's plan too, but whatever else he might be, he wasn't interested in collecting young men. He was satisfied with one, me. He just let it be known to everyone, including his law partners, that we were a couple. As he explained, he wouldn't have done that if he'd been planning on getting his jollies and moving on. It also answered another big question I'd had. Cam did not expect us to sneak around, not in public, not even at the office.
He told me, he was out to everyone that mattered to him except his kids and he said he planned on telling them as soon as they were able to understand. He'd lived in the closet for enough years to know it was not a place he wanted to make his home. He even thought it was funny when I passed on the firm's gossip that he was still in love with his ex-wife.
It seemed, Elise had always known he was bisexual. She'd even been turned on by it and had occasionally participated in a three way when they were first married. But as Cam grew older, his attraction for men kept growing until he wasn't really sexually attracted to women at all.
He and Elise tried to make it work, but they kept growing farther and farther apart. He insisted they still loved each other, but they no longer had much in common except their kids.
Inevitably, Elise came home one day and told Cam she wanted a divorce. She had met someone else. He said the real irony was they'd decided to celebrate with champagne and ended up in bed for some of the greatest sex of their marriage.
That didn't change the facts though and next day Cam had moved out. The following June he'd transferred to Ann Arbor with the firm's whole-hearted approval. He told me that wasn't surprising since the 'someone else' Elise had met, was another partner in the Chicago office. But the upshot of this soap opera for me was, that Cam's preference for men was no secret to the powers that be and, as he was only nominally my boss, there wasn't any big problem with us seeing each other.
So while we didn't exchange kisses in the elevator or meet for a quickie in the copy room, we didn't keep our dating a secret at work. It was less of a scandal than I'd been afraid of. I got a few curious looks from the partners and a couple of the secretaries winked when they saw me, but that was about the extent of it. Pen, of course, had wanted to know all the details, but I kept my mouth shut and bought her a few lunches to make up for it and she stopped bugging me.
For the first couple of months, I was pretty content with how things were going. It wasn't perfect, but then, what was. I'd never really believed in true love anyway. I was fairly certain this was as reasonable a facsimile of that fairy tale as I was ever likely to encounter. I might have stayed believing that too, if circumstances hadn't thrown me a few curves.
"You're not going to turn into Fabio or something?" Joe's question brought me back to the present.
I shot him a dirty look. I really did like my new 'do', though I'd grown it almost by accident. It was lack of time and funds that had led me to skip the first few barber appointments, but then I'd started to think it looked good. It had taken a while, but now I could tie it back or pull part of up into a clip. Most people liked it, even my mother, who'd embarrassed the Hell out of my Dad when she told him, in front of company, that she thought he'd look sexy with a ponytail too.
"Oh for Christ sake's," I muttered as I brushed past him on the way to my closet. "You'd think I was all decked out in Kevin's transvestite whore outfit."
We both automatically swiveled our eyes to the bookshelf where the bitch shoes held a place of honor. They'd been there ever since that first night of the Tuesday Game.
The game was still going strong. Except for holidays, we hadn't missed a week. Sometimes Kevin would bring a buddy along to, as he said, even out the numbers, but the core group was pretty much the same. The only real differences were that Carl had started to show up now that Ashley had a Tuesday night class, and Saul was missing this term because he'd landed a spot on a dig in Africa somewhere and wouldn't be back until April.
What I'd sworn would never work, had turned out to be the basis of some of the closest friendships I'd ever had, and I was pretty sure the rest of the guys felt the same way. In some weird way, we'd all come together inside the walls of my apartment. We'd had to, almost by necessity, drop our preconceived ideas of who somebody had to be because of skin color, or religion, or sexual preference and instead, had concentrated our efforts in finding out who the person who bore those traits really was. And, for us at least, this familiarity had bred not contempt, but acceptance. Joe had been right; things had worked out and all of us were the richer for it.
Though not all of us were happier. Something was bothering Joe and had been for a long time now. It was there in the absence of light in his eyes and the sag of his shoulders; it showed in the smile he rarely used and the silence that had never been his style. Everyone noticed, and although the unspoken code of guys prevented us from sitting around and discussing it; I could tell by the worried looks on everybody's faces, that we wished there was something we could do to help him out of his funk.
But whatever demons Joe was fighting; he had chosen to face them alone. That was his choice; believe me. I tried to find out what was wrong. I'd hinted, I'd guessed, I'd prodded and poked. Then when none of those worked, I just came out and asked him what the hell his problem was. It was no use. He wouldn't talk about it, not to me, not to his roommate, Beau, not to anybody.
Of course, this doesn't mean I couldn't have made a pretty good guess about what was wrong. In fact, I was pretty sure I knew exactly what was causing him grief. And my conclusion depressed me.
