An Authorized Excerpt
After wandering
around the house for a bit—sadly not finding a hot tub in
the backyard or in the basement—I found myself in Gerald’s
bedroom. A piece of artwork on the wall stuck my attention.
It was of two frogs. One was sprawled out, lying with his
ass up in the air. The other was sitting on a rock, smoking
a pipe. Something was written across the top of the painting
in some foreign language. I wondered what it said.
I sat
down on the edge of Gerald’s bed, feeling the cool satin
with my hands. The sheets were midnight black. Very
beautiful. Very inviting. I thought about crawling under the
covers and seeing what it was like to be in his bed, but
decided against it. I would end up sleeping in the bed
tonight, anyway. Why rush things?
The
nightstand beside the bed was very neat. The only things
sitting on the top were a lamp and a large glass ashtray.
There were no ashes in the tray, only some change and an old
watch. I knew Gerald’s wife didn’t smoke, but I suddenly
realized I didn’t know if Gerald smoked or not. I always
assumed that he did. My father did, anyway. Fat, stinky
cigars from Cuba. I always imagined them puffing away in
their office while closing big deals. Or whatever
they did.
I
wonder what’s in here? I stared at the nightstand.
Unable to control my curiosity, I opened the drawer. Just
more scattered pieces of various junk. Finding nothing
interesting inside, I sighed and closed the drawer.
Annoyed
at what I had found, I got off the bed and walked to the
den. Gerald’s private space. A large oak desk sat
prominently in the middle of the room. I flopped down in the
leather chair behind the desk and smiled, feeling important.
I opened the drawer before me and almost screamed.
There,
in a perfect pile, was a stack of Playgirls.
“What
the hell?” I breathed deeply. “No freaking way.”
I pulled
one out and flipped through. After being greeted by page
after page of naked men it was confirmed. “Yeah, this is a
Playgirl, alright.”
Excitement rushed through me. If Gerald’s gay, maybe I
actually could… I let the thought go. Don’t be an idiot.
I placed the magazine back in the drawer and slid it shut.
He’s your dad’s friend. You couldn’t so much as mention
that you’re attracted to him. What if he told—?
