Things were much better in my daytime life and that's what really kept me sane. I went to a fine local university to study music and finished at the top of my class. Just a few months after I graduated I auditioned with the symphony and got the job! Because guitar is not an instrument that is needed in all programs, I also had time to do make appearances on my own. I got an agent and he set me up several gigs right away. Because of my age and appearance I was in high demand to play on college campuses.
My career took me to places I had only read about and expanded my horizons in many ways. By my second year out of college I was playing several dates a year in Europe and Asia. I was able to buy Mom and I a much nicer home and I was becoming mature enough to know my sexual lifestyle was stupid and unsatisfying. I quit going to clubs when I was twenty-two. After I got a clean bill of health from a doctor (I may have thought about suicide, but I still always used condoms) I discreetly started "dating" nice men that I met through acquaintances from my previous gay hangouts. I know some of them would have liked to have a relationship, but "the wall" was as high as ever and all I had to give was sex. I wasn't even willing to let myself form a real friendship. I held everyone at arms-length. Actually at two or three arms-lengths.
Thanks to my music I was pretty happy as long as I didn't dwell on that empty feeling that never left me. When I played, I came as close to pure joy as I knew how to. I would often arrive well before rehearsal time at the symphony just to hear myself play in our acoustically excellent hall. I was playing a Spanish piece one day, thinking I was alone except for some stagehands. I heard a noise behind me and looked around and saw a man I had never seen before.
"Don't stop, please!" he said. "I love your playing. I'm so sorry for distracting you."
This guy could certainly be a distraction, all right, I thought. He was extremely attractive. He had dark hair and eyes, though not as dark as mine. He wasn't as tall as I was, but he was well-built, especially in the shoulders. The black T-shirt and jeans he was wearing outlined a really fit body. I especially noticed the muscles in his lower arms and his sinewy hands. I flashed on the thought of those hands on my body and felt a stirring of desire that took me by surprise.
I got through the rest of the piece somehow and, when I finished, he came over and put his hand out to shake. "I'm Justin Lawrence. I've just been signed as assistant conductor and pianist."
I shook his hand and felt how strong it was. Year of piano training, I assumed. My own hands are very strong and agile as a result of my work, too. "I'm Michael Malone," I told him.
"Yes, I know. I saw you play last year in New York. I'm a fan. You are an amazing musician, Michael."
Justin had the warmest eyes I'd ever looked into. He seemed to take me in and wrap a soft blanket around me. I found it disconcerting and highly erotic. "Jesus, man," I told myself, "he's undoubtedly straight. You can't afford to get all gaga over the guy."
"We've still got nearly an hour before the rehearsal," Justin said. "Would you be willing to play something with me? When I'm a dried-up old man I want to brag that I once played a duet with the legendary Michael Malone."
Justin's smile was as warm as his eyes. Kindness and tenderness seemed to radiate from him. I didn't have the faintest idea how to feel about that. I'd had very little kindness from men in my life. Frankly, it scared me. I almost let my fear push me into making some excuse and refusing to play with him, but I got control of myself and said, "Sure."
We agreed on a Bach piece that we both knew and started to play. It only took a few stanzas before I was aware of two things: Justin was a world-class musician and his style was a perfect match for mine. We played as if we'd done this together a hundred times. I often appeared in duets with pianists and it took hours of rehearsal to mesh half as well as Justin and I did by some magic instinct. I was completely blown-away by the wonder of it.
That day was the start of something totally new in my life: friendship. Without noticing how it happened I took a few bricks off the top of my "wall" and let Justin into my life. We got in the habit of meeting for lunch whenever we could and we talked for hours, if we didn't have to be somewhere. I learned that Justin was divorced with two young sons who lived with their mother nine months of the year and came to him in the summer and for two weeks at Christmas. He was crazy about his boys and showed me new pictures of them nearly every time we met. More than once I thought about what it would have been like if I'd had a father who loved me like that.
At first the friendship was very pleasing to me. Justin and I had a million things in common. We didn't always agree about everything, but it was easy to respect his perspectives. He was a great companion for some of the things I liked to do, like watching movies (both artistic and crudely funny), checking out what was new in the bookstores, and going to hear all kinds of music. We would go for a run several mornings a week. I opened up to him in a way I never had with anyone before. It felt good to share myself like that, but it wasn't long before I realized it wasn't enough. One day Justin smiled at me and I realized that I wanted to kiss him more than I'd ever wanted to do anything in my life. Now, my one steadfast rule had always been that I didn't kiss anyone, except my mother. I would suck a cock, but never suck face. Somehow it seemed more personal.
I had shared a lot with Justin, but I'd never told him about my sexual orientation. I was as far into the closet as a person can get and I just didn't know how to bring the subject up. I was beginning to think I would have to end the friendship rather than let him see how deeply attracted to him I was.
Justin took the matter out of my hands, however. One day he just calmly told me that the reason his marriage broke up was because he was attracted to other men. He'd done some fooling around with guys in college, but his feelings frightened him and he set out to prove he was straight. When the girl he tried to prove it with got pregnant he married her and stayed faithful to her. His mind was never at peace, however. He constantly had thoughts about having sex with men. By the time his wife had their second son, he knew he couldn't live a lie anymore. He felt horrible about what he'd done to her, but he'd told his wife the truth and they divorced. She'd been bitterly angry at him at first, which he felt he deserved, but since she had fallen in love and remarried, she had tried hard to understand and forgive him.
He'd never gotten into the bar or club scene and had only had two short affairs, but he knew he'd made the right choice. "I know I'll find a man I can love someday and we'll build a life together. Or maybe I should say I'll find a man who will love me back. You see, Michael, I've already fallen in love."
I've been through some scary shit in my life, but nothing rivals that moment for sheer terror. With everything in me I wanted to be the man he loved, but I knew that I didn't have a clue how to love him back. It had honestly never occurred to me that romantic love would ever happen to me.
I don't know what part of me was making the decisions when I blurted out, "Justin, I'm gay, too." My brain certainly hadn't planned on saying it. I might have been able to get out of there unchanged if Justin hadn't smiled at me then. That huge, warm, welcoming smile just took possession of me and the next thing I knew I was holding him in my arms and kissing the life out of him. For someone who had never kissed, I sure knew what I wanted to do. I plunged my tongue into his mouth and tasted every corner of it. I licked his beautiful, full lips and opened my mouth to his probing tongue. Thank God all of this happened in his apartment, because I think I would have done it in the middle of Main Street if the circumstances had been the same.
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