After working out, we sometimes stopped at the Hamburger Hamlet -- maybe not the best option for after-the-gym, but the hamburgers and fries were amazing!
One night we were talking about old boyfriends, and Marshall revealed that he had never been with a guy before!
"Are you newly out?" I asked in surprise.
"No."
"Terrified of AIDS?" No.
"Self-conscious about your size?" No.
"Suffering from a urological condition?" No.
"None of those things. I'm just waiting for Mr. Right"
"I was raised to wait until my wedding night," Marshall explained. "But since we can't get married, I'll wait until we have a permanent commitment. Bound together for life. Forsaking all others."
"How do you handle dating? Most guys want you in the bedroom by the second or third date."
"If he really loves me, he'll wait," Marshall said firmly.
Has anyone waited so far? I thought. But I said: "So, no cruising? No tricks (one night stands)?"
"Oh, no. Sex is too precious a gift to waste on just anyone!"
Marshall reddened. "When it's true love, you never even look at another guy. Like you and Lee. You have a solid, loving relationship, right? None of this sharing nonsense?"
Actually, Lee and I often brought home a guy to "share." What right did Marshall have to imply that our relationship was therefore not solid or loving?
"Oh, sure," I lied. "I would never agree to sharing!"
"And sex with complete strangers in bathhouses! Sick!"
"That's nothing!" I said. "In Europe, every gay bar has a darkroom where you do things without even seeing what the guy looks like!"
"What sex-obsessed scumbag would want to do that? Disgusting!"
Lee and I loved the dark rooms of Europe. So now we were sex-obsessed scumbags?
I decided to do something with this self-righteous little twit -- like introduce him to the joys of cruising.
"Well, guys like you, actually, No offense -- I know you're with Lee. But tall, goodlooking, nicely built, facial hair."
"I have just the right guy for you. Tall, goodlooking, nicely built, and a total romantic, looking for Mr. Right. He'll be at the Bear Party this weekend -- I'll wrangle you up an invitation."
"What's a bear party?"
"Oh, just a party where a lot of gay guys get together. There's swimming, snacks. Sometimes we watch a movie."
I didn't mention what went on in the dark room.
The bear party:
It was held in a big house in the Hollywood Hills. Socializing in a gigantic lounge that opened onto a patio with a swimming pool. Downstairs, the family room had mattresses scattered around a big fireplace, and two of the bedrooms were converted into dark room-mazes.
Lee, Marshall, and I walked through the lounge, scanning the crowd of bears, daddies, Cute Young Things, and semi-celebrities.
"I guess your guy hasn't arrived yet," I said. "Why don't we go in the pool while we wait? It's heated."
"I didn't bring a swimsuit."
"That's ok, neither did we." We led him out to the patio, showed him where to strip and place his clothes, and jumped into the pool.
After awhile, he did notice. He climbed out of the pool and stood naked and shivering in the cool October evening. "My clothes are soaked!" he yelled. "And I'm freezing to death!"
I handed him a towel. "Sorry about that. But don't worry -- Lee will go pop your clothes in the drier. They'll be good as new in 30 minutes. While we're waiting, let's go downstairs -- I hear there's a fireplace down there where you can get warm."
All of the mattresses in the family room were occupied with naked guys, in pairs and groups, grabbing and fondling and exploring.
"Hey, you didn't say this was an orgy!" Marshall whispered angrily.
"I had no idea! I've never gone downstairs before. But we don't need to do anything -- we can just sit and warm up. Come on --." I sat him down by the fireplace and put my arm around him. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with just looking."
So we looked, and looked, and Marshall became more and more obviously interested. He began stroking my knee. I reached out and grabbed a passing muscle bear, who smiled and tried to grope us.. Marshall declined, but I didn't.
"Lee doesn't mind you...doing that?" he whispered, eyes wide.
"Doing what? I was just being polite, not planning a romantic dinner for two."
"Just...being polite...."
"Sure...it's like a kiss. Just how you say 'hello' in gay circles."
Soon Marshall and I were kissing and groping.
"It's fine. Jeff likes to kiss. So do I," Lee added with a leer.
Soon they were kissing and groping.
The guy I had in mind for Marshall was a young gym rat with a short beard and a dusting of chest hair. But he never showed up.
Marshall didn't seem to notice.
He was busy in the dark room.
See also: Cruising the Orthodox Cute Young Thing.