Little Squirrels Can Climb Tall Trees (9 page)

Kyle seemed a bit freaked. “Um-huh, sure.”

“Not buying it, are you?”

“Are you kidding? I’m
naked in the dining room.
This is just
… wrong!
”

“Okay. I need to know. What happened to the guy who stripped off all his clothes in front of me in the locker room and had no problem running around naked there?”

“But that was the locker room. You’re supposed to get naked there. Duh!”

“You’re cute, but that is the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m still naked in the dining room, and it’s still just
wrong
!” Kyle reiterated.

“Well, get used to it. Nudity is a good thing.” I pulled out a chair and gestured for my friend to sit.

“
Naked?
” Kyle asked in absolute disbelief.

“
Yes! Naked!
No nudity police are going to bust down the door and haul you away for being naked in my dining room! Or my living room! Or in my kitchen. This is a naked-positive zone.”

Kyle folded his arms across his chest and seemed to harden into an immovable object.

“Fine!” I shouted. “
Go!
Put some clothes on! Deprive me of the chance to ogle your gorgeous body! Make me suffer some more!” I threw my head back and tried to act like a diva—wasn’t working very well. Something about being naked made the diva thing more difficult.

I left Kyle to work out his angst while I went into the kitchen and rounded up our dinner. The food needed to be warmed up a little and put onto plates. That was finished and I was back in the dining room in about four minutes. I was not entirely sure what I would find, but I had a very good suspicion that Kyle would no longer be naked. I was therefore not at all surprised to find that Kyle had gone back to the bedroom and pulled on his pants. He did not put on his shirt, but he looked like he could in something like four microseconds. And the shirt was close at hand.
One step at a time
, I told myself.
One step at a time.

Together we savored the taste of the delicious Thai food. Kyle almost forgot that he was shirtless, but not quite. For my part, I thoroughly enjoyed having Kyle’s luscious nipples on open display while he sat enjoying dinner. Kyle was confused as to why I kept encouraging him to take additional bites of the super-hot curry. Secretly I was watching said nipples very carefully to see if any sweat appeared. Being the good host that I was, I of course stood ready to move in and lick that sweat away. The sacrifices one must make!

We talked, although later neither one of us could recall what we had talked about during dinner. We laughed. We relaxed. We both felt comfortable with one another. While I cleaned up the dishes from dinner, Kyle sat back on the sofa and apparently realized just how tired he was. He had put in a rugged workweek and had been a bit stressed personally as well.

When I returned to the dining room a few moments later, I saw Kyle sound asleep on the sofa. The man looked absolutely edible. I wanted nothing more than to attack his bare nipples and lick some more of his body. But I knew that he worked like a dog and must be exhausted—obviously.

As gently as possible, I woke him, knowing that he hadn’t been asleep long enough to move into deep sleep.

“Huh?” Kyle asked.

“Come to bed,” I said softly, urging him up off the sofa.

Kyle stood and followed me into the bedroom. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know the etiquette for these situations. Should I go home?” he asked, a bit uncertain, not to mention still partly asleep and a little fuzzy.

“Don’t even think about it,” I jokingly warned. I gave the man a spare toothbrush and then got him tucked into bed. He was asleep again just a moment after his head hit the pillow. I was not so sleepy as Kyle, so I took a moment to admire the sleeping giant next to me. The man was an utter mystery in so many ways. On the one hand, he was playful and fun, but on the other, he was nervous and terribly uptight. And to go so long without sex! That was positively cruel and unusual punishment.

Sleep finally captured me as well. My dreams that night were good.

T
HE
next morning I was awake at my usual 6:00 a.m. My guest did not stir when I crawled out of bed, so I let the man sleep. As quietly as possible, I showered and went into the kitchen, closing the bedroom door so that the movements would not disturb Kyle.

I didn’t know how long someone would sleep after working four twelve-hour shifts in four days, but I assumed that it would be longer than usual. The question was how much longer. After puttering in the kitchen for a few minutes while making coffee, I sat at the dining room table to read the newspaper—a rare and delightful treat. Most days I was able to catch a glance at the paper at the office between appointments or while wolfing down a sandwich at lunchtime, never really getting the chance to read things in depth like I really wanted.

Even after reading all of the opinion pieces and the various columns, an hour later I was finished. With still no sign of Kyle rousing from his slumber, I hauled out my laptop and took care of some work e-mail. Even though it wasn’t due until next week, I spent some time working on a report, making significant progress. I was pleased that I had taken the day off to spend some time with Kyle—it would just be nice, though, if the man was actually
conscious
for some of the time.

At about ten thirty, four and a half hours after I had gotten out of bed, a very sleepy Kyle stumbled out of the bedroom.

“Well, look who’s finally out of bed!”

“Huh,” the sleepy man said.

“You awake yet?”

“Not really. Where am I?”

“My apartment.”

“How’d I get here?”

“You came here after work.”

“Oh, right. And who are you?”

“Bite me, bitch.”

“Sorry. Not awake yet.”

“I can tell. You want some coffee?”

“Do you have any tea?”

“
I’m gay.
Of course I have tea.”

“You’re gay?” he sleepily joked.

“You couldn’t tell when I was sucking your dick?”

“
That was you?
” he asked with a smile.

“Hey! Watch it!”

I heated some water in the microwave and returned to the dining room with an assortment of teabags for my guest to consider.

“Ohhhh, English Breakfast! My favorite.”

“Mine too.”

While the tea steeped, I asked, “Would you like some breakfast? Do you usually eat breakfast? Some people don’t, which I think is crazy. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“Yes, I like breakfast.”

“Do you have favorites?”

“Umm, I like scrambled eggs, I like french toast, I like pancakes….”

“Okay, that gives me something to work with. Here’s the morning newspaper to read while you drink your tea.”

“Thank you! That’s so sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Yes! Sweet.”

“It’s tea and a newspaper,” I complained.

“Work with me, will you!”

“Okay,” I said as I stepped into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for my guest. Every time I glanced in to check on my guest, he seemed totally absorbed in the newspaper. I could only guess that the morning newspaper was one of his favorite treats but was one that he didn’t get to enjoy every day. I startled the man when I reappeared and placed a plate in front of him.

“How’d you do that so quickly?”

“Quick? It took me half an hour. I see you missed me terribly.”

“No. Yes! No. Sorry, yes! I just got wrapped up in an article.”

“Nice to know I’m so easily forgotten. And here I was slaving away in the kitchen preparing breakfast for you. Working my fingers to the bone.”

Kyle was awake now and was perfectly capable of responding to my teasing. From his spot at the table, he simply turned his head and batted his beautiful eyelashes.

“All right, all is forgiven.”

“That was easy,” Kyle said.

“Hey, what can I say, I’m a sucker for your beautiful eyes, your smile, and those damned eyelashes,” I admitted.

“I told you I had extraordinary abilities!”

“Eat your damned breakfast!” I complained as I sat down at the table beside Kyle.

For the first time, Kyle looked at what I had placed in front of him. “You have more guests coming over for breakfast?” he asked as he surveyed the amount of food I had produced.

“Nope, just you.”

“
This is all for me?
”

“Yes.”

“You must have thought I was starving.”

“Hush up and eat before it gets cold.”

Kyle poured some maple syrup on top of the beautiful cinnamon swirl french toast. When he took a bite, he moaned with pleasure. “Oh my God! That is incredible. Did you make this?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes. I had some cinnamon bread left over from a few days ago, and that makes the best french toast.”

“I love the maple syrup. That is so good!”

“Comes from my family upstate.”

“Where do they get it? This is
great
!”

“They make it.”

“Your family makes maple syrup?
This
maple syrup?”

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly, not entirely sure where Kyle was going with his line of questioning.

“You’ve got to understand, I love maple syrup but can’t stand most of what people try to pass off as maple syrup. I don’t know how anyone can advertise maple syrup when the closest it ever came to a sugar maple tree is having a label printed that was made from some scrap wood chips. Most of the crap you get is corn syrup with artificial flavoring that isn’t even very close.”

“I’m sensing that you have a strong opinion on these matters,” I said, stating the obvious in a serious tone.

“Yes, absolutely. I fell in love with maple syrup while I was in medical school and miss having the good stuff.”

“Where did you go to medical school?” I asked, curious to know anything about the stranger I had slept with last night and taking the obvious opening.

“Harvard.”

“You went to Harvard Medical School?” I asked, somewhat disbelieving.

“Yes.”

“Harvard?
Cambridge
Harvard?”

“Yes. Why? Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing. It’s a good school. But I thought you said you were from Oklahoma.”

“I am. What? Can’t an Oklahoma boy be smart enough to get into Harvard Medical School?”

“Sounds like someone is a bit defensive.”

“Sorry. You wouldn’t believe how often I get that. ‘You went to Harvard? Wow! Did they have some kind of quota they had to meet? Did they give you a free education?’ No! If they did I wouldn’t have $250,000 in student loans to repay!”

“Hey! Calm down!” I said, placing one hand on one of Kyle’s hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

“Sorry,” Kyle apologized.

Desperate to change the subject, I asked, “So what were you reading in the newspaper that grabbed your attention so much?”

“Long editorial by some nut job about overhauling the Social Security system by cutting benefits, raising the retirement age, and putting means testing in place. No one should get a say in restructuring the Social Security system unless they depend on it to survive!”

“That seems like an entirely reasonable idea to me.”

“
Thank you.
I can’t tell you how many people we get coming into the ER who have just Social Security between them and the street.”

Suddenly Kyle stopped, looked up, and said, “Hey. Wait a minute! Why aren’t you at work?”

“I took the day off so I could spend it with you.”

“You did what?” he asked.

Kyle’s usually animated face was suddenly entirely neutral, with the result that for once I couldn’t read him.

“I took the day off so I could spend it with you,” I tried to explain once again.

The neutral expression on Kyle’s face faded. And unless I was reading the situation entirely wrong, I was afraid that Kyle was actually going to cry. Trying to lift things up a bit, I said, “So what do you typically do when you have some days off?”

Kyle composed himself once again and answered the question. “Well, I lead a life straight out of the lives of the rich and famous. Be careful about trying these things yourself without adequate training. I usually do laundry, wash dishes that have accumulated while I worked like a big dog, catch up on medical journal articles I wanted to read, respond to some of the e-mails from my family that come in faster than I can follow, go to the gym. If the weather is nice, I go for a run in the park. Stuff like that.”

“You’re right… shouldn’t try those things without adequate adult supervision. So, to spice things up a bit today, we could go running together and then maybe go see a movie.”

The suggestion was met with an absolutely blank stare from Kyle. “Sorry.” The man looked down at his lap in what appeared to be embarrassment.

“What’s wrong? What did I say?”

Shyly and hesitantly, Kyle answered the question. “I’ve never seen a movie in a theater.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

Kyle shook his head. “No.”

“Why?” I asked in disbelief at what I was hearing. I had never heard of anyone who hadn’t been to see at least one movie at some point in his life.