“No problem. I’ll meet you in the parking lot?”
“Sounds good, man.” He dips his chin and walks out, the back of his neck red, his hands fisting at his sides. A short sleeve button down shirt and cargo shorts that end at his knees. To most people they would be standard attire, not sexy or enticing at all.Only, I watch the flex of the muscle in his forearms and admire his toned calves with just the right amount of dark hair.
“Seriously, what the fuck?” I mutter to myself, digging out my trusty notebook and start jotting down notes for tomorrow.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
Something warm settles low in my gut. This is going to be a season of change and more than just the coaching staff.
Oscar Kusner 2.
“Did any of you actually review the diagrams I gave you?” I chuckle at the assembled band, realizing it’s going to be a long month before the first game. Looks like this year will be similar to the last, which was also my first season with the university as the band director. It’s like between the last performance of the school year and the first day of band camp in July, everyone has completely forgotten everything they’ve ever learned. We have a few mainstay songs, marches, and formations that are the same year after year, going back long before I arrived on the scene, even predating my predecessor. However, we incorporate new songs, keeping our performances fresh and relevant. I don’t expect them to have those memorized yet, but it’d be nice if they at least remembered what they’ve done before.
Several of the students shrug chagrined, while others clearly don’t give a shit about what I have to say. For the most part, my kids are good. Talented, respectful, and dedicated. There’s always those few, though, that make you wonder why they are even here.
Usually, I wouldn’t be too thrilled about having to go over information they should already know, but today I welcome the distraction. Freshmen are with my assistant director, while I have the upperclassmen. I make a game of it, as we move through basic steps and music they should know by heart, lettingthe familiarity of it all push the embarrassing events of this morning to the back of my mind.
My first day on campus last summer was a blur. So much to learn and see, names and faces I had no hope of remembering, not to mention, moving to a new city, a new state, and a new job title. I was surprised I was offered the band director position. It’s not that I wasn’t qualified, I’d been an assistant for 7 years, and worked my way up before that after my own graduation. However, I had been told more than once over the years that I would never be put in a position of authority like that because of being gay. It was always said in a diplomatic way, the speaker trying to convince me that it wasn’t anything to be offended by. I tried to pay them no mind and continue to do whatever job I had to the best of my ability.
Arriving on campus, a university of this size, with a BIG10 football team, and numerous NCAA titles from various sports, I expected backlash. For as modern as we want to think we are, an openly gay man anywhere near sports, even if it’s just directing students playing instruments on a football field, is met with…resistance.
None more so than Fred Heacock, the head football coach. And the most bigoted, closed-minded, antiquated, son of a bitch I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. Of course, he was never so blatant about his displeasure, framing it ambiguously enough that it couldn’t be proven he crossed a line. He saved his truly hateful speech for behind closed doors, without witnesses, and away from cameras.
I’m not a spiteful person but should that man contract a debilitating and embarrassing disease or infection and drop dead…I wouldn’t be sad about it. I might dance a little jig in celebration.
Amidst the blur of first day jitters, the one bright spot of my day, week, month, year…is Brandon Beiler. He approached me as I stood wide-eyed with my heart galloping in my chest, introduced himself, and then insisted on showing me around. He was kind, patient, funny, and the hottest man I’ve ever seen in person.
And so began my little crush…it was harmless, knowing that Brandon isn’t gay or bisexual, although very supportive of those who identify as such, and while friendly, we’ve never hung out outside of school functions. He’s an ally in the often-toxic masculine world of college sports, even if you’re sport adjacent, and has distracted Heacock more than once so I can make my escape.
I started working out at the end of the football season, feeling like I finally had a moment to myself. I explored the gyms on campus, but none beat the athletic complex. An added bonus was the pleasure of watching Beiler during his workouts, sweat trailing down his defined pecs, and carved abs. His arms, thick with earned muscle, flexing as he grunted with each repetition. The way his crazy mop of sandy curls would darken as he worked up a good sweat. Everything about Brandon Beiler held me captive from the moment I met him, and my infatuation has only grown with each interaction we have.
The last 7 months or so of observing him from a distance was blown to smithereens this morning when he rounded that corner into the locker room shower and caught me flushed and sporting an erection that pulsed desperately at the sight of him. I nearly swallowed my tongue at his nakedness. He’s beautiful in gym shorts, but glorious when the expanse of muscular perfection is walking toward me, his incredible cock swinging between tree trunk thighs.
I’m not sure if I imagined it, but I think his cock gave a little twitch at some point and chubbed up. My mouth watered,and my neglected erection protested being ignored. All that muscular and masculine real estate on display, I wanted to run my hands through his hair and tug it until his mouth crashed into mine with a ferocity that took my breath away. My hole tingling at the thought of his cock driving into me, his strength holding me down or lifting me up.
If I simply thought he was hot, I’d shrug and move on, knowing he’s het. But he’s literally the nicest, most thoughtful man, let alone person, I think I’ve ever met. Watching him with his players, the support staff, janitors, security guards is its own form of intoxication. He’s potent, and too much for a band geek like me.
Brandon was kind enough to play it off, but I still feel bad about putting us both in that situation. I got caught up thinking about his glistening expanse of toned skin, then the object of my obsession waltzes in naked and…Good God. How can something be so humiliating and the best moment of your life at the same time?
I swear his cock thickened in response. That’s the one thing I can’t seem to accept and move on. Did his body react because of what I was doing? Did he see a beautiful woman before entering the locker room? Was he thinking of a girlfriend? Or…or…did he like what he saw when he looked at me?
The truth is, I won’t know unless I ask. But I’m not sure I’m brave enough to do that. But I’m a man in his mid-thirties, I’m capable of getting to know him better. If nothing else, I could use a friend here. Everyone has been nice, if not welcoming, but I still haven’t felt like I’ve connected with anyone. Jenna, the cheering coach, is great. She and Lilly, in PR, and I have gone out for drinks a few times. But I don’t have a guy friend, and while it’s not necessary, it would be nice to talk to someone without having their menstrual cycle come up in conversation.
Mind made up, I shower again after band practice, the summer heat is a killer. Checking my watch, I know the football team should be finishing up soon, so I wander through the athletic complex for a little while, then lean against the wall outside Beiler’s office.
An hour and a half later, Beiler and I are sitting across from each other at a local pizza joint and I’m having a great time. Beer is ice cold, pizza is hot and fresh, and the company is top-notch, and unfortunately not helping the whole crush thing.
“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Lyndell. He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met. And his brother Ty ain’t so bad either.”
Beiler grins, tipping his beer back and taking a long drag. Entranced, I watch his prominent Adam’s apple bob with every swallow and squirm in my seat when I imagine it’s my dick he’s swallowing. “Can’t agree more. Known them for years, it’s a shame about their accident,” I nod along, having heard about Ty’s career ending car accident, “but I truly believe God puts us exactly where we are meant to be. Ty embodies the spirit of the mascot and it’s truly an honor to see him in his element in that damn costume. And Lyndell…he’s flourished here, grown so much, defied expectations and other’s perceived limitations.”
“Why did you agree to come to dinner with me?” I blurt out with absolutely no segue or finesse. Beiler laughs, his eyes holding me hostage as I wait for him to answer or the ground to swallow me up.
“Because I thought we were friends, or at least we could be.”
“Yes. Of course, friends.” The word tastes like sawdust in my dry mouth.
His head tilts slightly to the right. “Why do you ask? Did you expect me to say no?”
