Rick: Over There

Rick had an elderly aunt "once-removed" and she and her fragile, deaf husband invited Rick to visit them that summer in Brighton, England.

"It's been years and years," she said and then lowered her voice. "And frankly, sweetheart, I don't know how much time Billy has left." Later, when Rick relayed the conversation I wondered why she'd bothered to whisper. Being the dutiful nephew once-removed, he thought this would also be -- a chance to see England and have a place to stay.

And well, if he wanted to bring a friend, who could grouse?

After we'd made the reservations, Aunt Jen called back to say Bill had to go "to hospital" and could we wait a few days?

"No problem." Rick said. We'll find some cheap B & B and poke around London before we pop in. So we'll see you after the weekend?"

The next day we were deposited at Newark airport by his mother, who wore a pink scarf pulled over tight wire curlers. I could almost hear her clucking her tongue throughout the ride. I know I caught a few glances in the rear mirror, probably waiting for me to pull out a purse and start applying makeup.

"Goodbye honey," she said as she pulled him into her eight arms. Over her shoulder, Rick rolled his eyes at me and mimed being squashed. I raised an eyebrow.

Before she let him go she whispered, "And remember, if you need me for any reason, don't be afraid to call." She pursed her lips and tightened her scarf. We stepped up to the curb. She said nothing to me.

In a half-hour we were finally off on our transatlantic trip, two children kicking the back of our seats, their parents ignoring them. There was a Hasidic jew davening in the row just before First Class. Odd, but on a five-hour flight over the sprawling black ocean, I welcomed any type of blessing. After circling the tarmac for twenty minutes we finally started our ascent.

"Ow!" Rick yelled, grabbing my arm.

"What?"

"Geez, my ears just popped," he said, still clutching my wrist and holding it a little longer than necessary. As he sat there working his jaw I looked down at his fingers and thought, this is going to be a great trip.

We got to London very early and since we were two college boys who couldn't afford a hotel, we began our hunt for a nice bed and breakfast. We dragged our leaden suitcases down one street after another and every place we found was either filthy or stank of curry. Or both. He would have settled, but I had this romantic idea of London and it did not include three days over a loud Indian restaurant.

We were about to give up and find a hostel when we turned onto a quiet street and stumbled upon a small, charming place owned by a Mrs. Cadbury.

The house was unassuming, at least a hundred years old, and clean. And Cadbury trumps curry in my book. By the time we got there, jet-lagged and cranky, I think we'd have camped out in her living room.

"We're pretty full, boys, but I do have one room left. It's on the top floor, of course," she giggled, pointing to a narrow staircase. "Oh, and you'll have to share a bed." Yes.

The room was small but pretty in a Victorian sort of way. The wallpaper was curling around the edges, peeling back the roses on the print itself. Chucking our luggage into the corner, we collapsed on the sagging mattress and groaned. We groaned over and over until we laughed.

The next morning, or late afternoon actually, I woke up before Rick and heard his steady breathing. We had never been in bed together -- at least not under the sheets, and the intimacy of it gave me a rush. It was getting dark but I couldn't tell what time it was. I was exhausted but still wanted to get out of bed. Every minute of the trip counted and we'd be back in America before we knew it. Dazed, I had that slightly sick feeling I got when I awakened from a nap in the evening.

In England we were anonymous, I thought with a smile. We could do anything and nobody would know. The soft hair on his shin brushed mine and I remembered that before we actually passed out we had peeled off everything but our underpants. The dusty, ancient mattress sagged so deeply we'd both ended up very close. I felt his hip against mine. I sat up.

"You awake?" he yawned.

"Yeah."

"What time is it?"

"I don't know."

"Did we miss a day?"

"I don't think so. Half a day maybe. Do you have your watch?"

"I don't know where it is." He yawned again. "So, what do you want to do?"

We both laid on our backs and looked up at the cracked ceiling. We tossed around ideas casually as if it were something we did it every day. As he started to wake up in earnest he realized he had nothing on. With the relationship so loaded, finding ourselves in this situation lit the fuse. We stopped talking. I turned to my right and rolled inevitably into the vortex. We were on top of each other, laughing, a tangle of arms and legs. Then I felt something poke against my hip that I was sure wasn't a toe. He didn't pull away and I knew what he wanted to do. But it had to be me first.

I reached my hand down his Fruit Of The Looms and touched his hard penis, rising up out of coarse, damp pubic hair. I held it firmly but delicately, like a priceless object. I thought I would come right then. Blood pounded in my heart and ears so strongly that it hurt. I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't think of anything but what had overtaken me. My cock had poked halfway out of the bottom of my underpants and he started to clumsily twist it. His hips began to rise up and down. He yanked my underpants down and then wriggled out of his. He grabbed my ass and pulled me closer. I felt the hair on his chest, his breath, his thighs, and he got on top of me and rocked, finding his rhythm. Being twenty-two and finally naked together, we both came quickly and at the same time. It took my breath away. He cried out but I was silent, and my arm stretched out and gripped the side of the mattress. We'd burst through that door we couldn't even unlock at home.

After lying there a minute he reached over to the bedside table and grabbed some tissues. It was silent. I got up to take a shower and left the bathroom door open. When I came out we each sat on a corner of the bed, pulled on our sneakers and started to make plans, just like nothing had happened.