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Circuit Stories
By
Ken Cimino
Chapter
Five: Cherry Ball
Washingtonians are renowned for their chameleon natures: for being cosmopolitan hybrids with both serious and irreverent sides. In summertime, they err firmly on the side of "irreverent". Politicians crowd the sidewalks, pushing and shoving like kids on a school outing, all determined to be the most important one in the playground. The city has a lightness to it: a sweetness which isn't there at other times of the year. In winter, DC wears its serious face: marble-clad, and evocative of the museums and monuments it's famous for. Its urban occupants hearts can be just as hard. In the summertime, though, the city has a softness to it: the softness of cherry blossom.
The energy level of the summer city is so tangible that if you stopped for a moment you could almost reach out and touch it. This is a city divided in two, down political lines. You're red if you're a republican, blue if you're a democrat. When the election comes, though, everyone knows that one camp will bark orders at the other, and the orders will be all the colors of the rainbow. But the political rituals baffled Will in the same way that the Catholic ceremonies of his childhood had confused him when he was growing up. Will had never been the type of child who enjoyed coloring within the lines, and now that he was a man it was when living life
outside the lines that he had the most fun.
In this prosperous capital of power lunches and power egos, Will Clark was the owner of one of the largest sex egos of all. Lately, though his ego wasn’t riding quite as high above the clouds as it once had. It was strange: Will still thought of himself as too handsome for his own good. But, as he approached his mid forties, he worried he was getting too old for an ego this size. He was an aging gay porn star, and just as the players in DC were all extraordinary people in the ever-changing political landscape, Will was extraordinary in his own way too.
Will was no ordinary gay man. He hadn't been elected into the porn world, but he was still always campaigning – not for votes, but for attention. Will knew he had only a few more years left in the spotlight, and he wasn't about to bow out gracefully. He would lose to the younger candidates in the end, but he would do everything in his power to cling onto the attention for as long as possible. Giving in just wasn't Will's style.
Will was in town to visit his friend Eric and to attend DC’s Cherry Ball. It was their first real circuit party and although this was Will's second attempt at being sober he was never one to pass up the good parties. Will loved traveling from city to city. The circuit parties allowed him a chance to journey from place to place. Just like a pirate wondering from island to island, answering to no one, but life itself.
Will especially loved the events where he would get paid to dance on a box and get stares. The parties were losing their luster, though. His visit to Palm Springs last month had been uneventful. Maybe the Cherry Ball would be different. He told himself that he had come to find love. Mainly, he came to forget. Last month had been the one-year anniversary of Tom’s death. Plus, there was his recent fight with Caesar. Now here he was walking the DC streets. Since the men were no longer looking at him the way they once had, Will was slowly being eaten up by his own insecurities.
Will looked down at his watch and fought off a huge yawn. He was tired. He'd had only around three hours sleep the night before and now the progress of the second hand around the face of his watch had seemed impossibly slow. He had spent the last few hours recalling a somewhat familiar face. He knew he had seen the man’s face at the lobby door, but he wasn't sure where. He'd have liked to have spent a little longer mulling it over – there was something about this man that attracted him, and he'd have enjoyed the opportunity to work out just what it was, but a glance at his watch told him that after dragging all day, time had now decided to speed up on a whim.
"Damn, it's 5:10 already," he thought irritably. "I'm going to be late."
Will was always late. He'd been in town three days and so far he'd been late for absolutely everything. This was serious, though: he'd been the one who'd persuaded his friends to go to JR's, and now he himself was an hour late. They'd kill him!
Will pulled on his jacket, hoping desperately that Caesar wouldn't be there. They'd gotten into a fight the week before Will's departure for DC, and Will knew Caesar had flown in last night for the Cherry Party, DC's big circuit event. These days Will and Caesar spent more time finding ways to avoid each other than they ever had trying to work things out. Their last fight had been nasty, sparked by Will's failure to support Caesar in a squabble with a Pacific Heights nanny.
They'd been walking along the manicured sidewalks of Clay St., past an enclave of enormous old houses reeking of fresh paint, freshly cut grass and silver tea sets in front windows. When they passed a uniformed nanny flanked by a wide-eyed, smiling six year-old, the child had pointed at Caesar, and Caesar hadn't thought twice about waving back. When the nanny noticed her charge waving to an almost 7 foot tall Latin man in a platinum wig, full makeup and tight red miniskirt, though, she hadn't been amused.
"Come here!" she scolded, grabbing the child firmly by the hand and dragging him back towards the sidewalk. "I've told you before, that's not funny. It's sad, is what it is, when a grown man goes walking around like that. You shouldn't be laughing – you should be praying for him, with all your strength."
Neither the concern for his soul nor the boy’s laughter seemed to faze Caesar who went by her stage name Hazel Nut. The nanny threw a withering glance at all of them as she continued parading down the street. The nanny was on shaky ground with the religious aspects of her speech, Will thought. As a life-long Catholic he knew that men of God are supposed to wear dresses, the more embroidered and ornate – the holier, in fact - the better. The nanny, he supposed, had every right to shield her charge from a drag queen. Hazel, though, disagreed.
“If that boy stays in San Francisco long enough he’ll have a penchant for drag himself," he said. "Or at the very least, the desire to have his girlfriend fuck him once with a strap on,” said Hazel.
“But Caesar you can’t make a parent expose a child to our lifestyles,” retorted Will, sighing. They'd been down this road before, and, as he returned to the present, striding down DCs 17th street, he knew that if he were to see Caesar again, they'd go down it again.
“Don’t talk morals with me. You’re a porn star for God’s sake”, quipped Caesar aka Hazel Nut.
Will passed the O St. townhouse where he was staying, and allowed his mind to wander. Glancing up at the darkened window of his room, he cast his mind back to the night before – the reason for his lack of sleep. It had started out the same as always. After working out at Washington Sports on 20th and M, he and Eric had gone over to JR's, but had found the place empty, with no more than ten people inside. Will hadn't minded: the uncrowned atmosphere had given him time alone to flirt with Mike, the hunky – and often shirtless – bartender. Will didn’t drink, but Mike bought him Red Bulls the whole night. Plus, Will had a thing for short guys, facial hair and furry blonde chests, and Mike had all of those, with the addition of a blonde mustache which gave him the look of a 70s porn star.
After leaving JR's, Will and Eric had moved on to Cobalt to end the night. The music at Cobalt was always so damn good, he reflected. He loved to be there, drinking Red Bull one after the other with the men at the bar. He wanted martinis, but since this was second stint with sobriety he remained on program. When he'd gotten home and turned on the TV, thinking he'd kill a few sleepless hours with some mindless, late night TV. What he found, though, was something quite different: so different, in fact, that he'd fallen asleep still watching, and had woken up to watch it again. Ever sense he stopped using, he would wake up in the middle of night from the dreams. He would either dream of Tom or dream of using. Will feared sleep like some people fear spiders or snakes. In the light he was safe, but at night as he laid staring at the ceiling he was haunted. He needed to find a way to escape the dreams. His dreams were realer than most people’s realities. The days were the place to escape the dread of the nights.
Will's recollection shattered as he entered JR's and looked around for his friend. After a few seconds, he heard Eric's voice.
"Hey Will." Eric was standing in the rear of the bar. Eric never wanted to be seen. He'd been going to JR's for years, and no one who knew him could remember a single occasion when he hadn’t tucked himself away in the corner, under the stairs. Will shook his head as he made his way over to him, pushing through the crowd. He often wondered if Eric feared people, the way he worried about the nighttime. Eric was much younger than Will, but he felt a closeness to him. Were they connected by fear or was their something more? Will decided tonight he would find out. Tonight he would ask Eric for something more. Will could no longer count on the anonymous stares from the gay community, so he'd find a way to have just one unconditional stare.
Will and Eric had messed around just once in the course of their two-year friendship. They had met when Will flew out as an escort for a Congressman from Utah. Eric cruised Will while he was walking down K Street, just a half hour after Will had tied the Congressman to the hotel bed and left him with cloth pins pinching his nipples. Even though Will was younger than the Congressman, they had engaged in coach player role-play. He figured he would return in three hours with the Congressman begging for more. Will knew how to leave men begging for more.
His last visit with Eric hadn’t gone so well. Will and Caesar flew out for Christmas last December, and Eric had slept with Caesar. At the time, Will was attracted to Eric's short, muscled look, he wasn’t sure if he should date him. He was holding out for something better – or so he liked to tell himself anyway. He didn't like to think his distaste at the idea of being with Eric was connected to the episode with Caesar, but he couldn't say for sure. Besides Caesar had run off with some other guy’s boyfriend a month later breaking Eric’s heart. While the matter remained unresolved, Eric was just a friend: the one constant in Will's DC journeys over the last few years. He was as stable as the presidential statues splattered throughout they city. Although, 25 year old Eric would sometimes would tease Will that he was just as old as some the monuments in Potomac park. Well, at least as old as most of the members of Congress, trolling the Capitol Building bathrooms for hookups.
“Are you always on fag time?” asked Eric now. “I’ve known you for almost two years and not once have you entered a bar on time. Not once.”
Eric was a lobbyist for the National Association of Realtors. He was young and rich - a lethal combination. Eric spent his weekends collecting antiques and shopping on Connecticut Ave. He could talk for hours on end about his idol, Barbara Streisand. He was more than ten years younger than Will. And in much better shape. At 5’ 8” and 190 lbs, Eric was built. He wore his brown hair cut short, military style, and every time Will saw him he felt an instant prickle of attraction. Just a prickle, though. Nothing more than that, and Will didn't think there ever would be. He felt attraction, yes, but not a commitment to pursue Eric. "Maybe it's the Barbara Streisand thing, he mussed. "No one in their twenties should love Barbara so much. Then again, he is
Jewish…"
Mind you, he concluded, everyone had their own obsessions. Caesar, for example, was obsessed with Madonna, and it hadn't stopped him being attracted to Caesar years ago. Will guessed he was in no position to judge people on the strength of their heroes. The fact that Eric was Jewish only added to his sexiness. Will loved Jewish men.
He looked over at Eric. Here was this man. Albeit a young man.
But Eric didn’t judge Will’s career choice.
Eric didn’t judge Will’s age.
Eric didn’t judge Will’s HIV.
Eric didn’t judge Will.
Yes, Eric was sweet. He was cute. He was fun. He was sexy.
The problem was, he wasn’t Tom.
Will knew Tom’s memory was the issue. But he had really met a kindred soul with Eric. The age difference did bother him. But he stared at Eric’s muscled body leaning against the bar. In a room full of men, Eric’s hopeful smile shone the brightest. It was at that moment Will understood why Eric was in his life. Tonight at the Cherry Ball Will would make his move on Eric. He would seize the moment tell him he was ready for something more. Will smiled at Eric and got closer to him and whispered.
“I promise to be on time for the rest of our time”.
Just then, Caesar himself walked up, drink in hand, and clearly with Eric. "At least he isn't in drag," Will reflected as Caesar reached down and kissed him on the cheek.
"Aren't you happy to see me?” asked Caesar. “Bitch, I am ready for this weekend. I’ve got to find a gym ASAP. I’ve got to lose ten pounds of water gain by Friday."
"You're coming with us to the Cherry Party?" Will asked, kissing him back.
"I wouldn't miss it," Caesar replied, pouting. "DC's first circuit party – are you kidding me? But I am worried about my water gain…"
“Caesar you don’t have to worry about water gain," Will sighed. "You haven’t eaten a carbohydrate since 1995, when your abs were plastered all over San Francisco’s buses with a Samsonite TV next to them.”
He grinned at him, reluctantly. Will had known Caesar since 1993, when he moved back to San Francisco after his first rehab stint. They had tricked in downtown San Francisco hotel bathroom, and when each had realized how hot the other was, they'd exchanged phone numbers. Financial District hook up sex with a fellow hot guy was much better then trolling for it with the old married businessmen from the East Bay. They had been friends for almost four years. Will's unacknowledged jealousy remained the only problem.
He wasn't just jealous of Caesar's perfect abs, or his flawless, model good looks. He wasn't jealous of the fact that Caesar was 6 foot tall, with a fabulous smile, or that he always had fabulous boyfriends, who he usually discarded after six months, max. In fact, sometimes Will wondered if he was actually jealous at all, or whether he was just angry. Caesar's recent decision to appear in public as "Hazel" was an affront to Will's “Levi and Leather” dress code. Caesar was gorgeous as a man. Why did he have to betray their friendship and become a drag queen? Surely he was too old now to change personalities? Will didn't even know where he found the energy for it. And why was it nothing ever bad ever happened to Caesar? The guy was like a cat: he always landed on his feet and seemed oblivious to everything in the process - unlike Will, who was really good-natured, but attracted trouble everywhere. Will liked to joke that if he saw trouble crossing the street, he would run over and give it directions for a shortcut.
Caesar was slightly older than Will, but his olive skin never showed a wrinkle on it. At 43 the Brazilian model was used to having every eye in the room firmly fixed upon him. Will vividly remembered the time Caesar had come to visit him when he was temping at an AIDS non profit, and every straight woman on the floor had popped their heads over their cubicles, like prairie dogs coming out of their holes as he walked on by. Will hated having the attention stolen away from him, and no one knew how to steal attention like Caesar did. Perhaps this was at the root of their problems. Caesar hadn't batted a single, perfect eyelid, although Will knew him well enough to know how much Caesar relished the attention. He thrived on it. Without the attention his good looks attracted, Caesar would probably wither away and die. Will suffered the same addiction to attention, but unlike Caesar he was making alternative plans. Tonight his first and most important plan involved telling Eric he wanted something more. He would even move to DC to make it happen. Tonight was the perfect night to make it happen. A sober Will would tell an ecstasy inebriated Eric of his love at the Cherry Ball.
"Don't be jealous, Will," Caesar was saying to him now, taking a coy sip of his drink. "Eric says he left you stranded last night because of a hook up."
Eric nodded as he ran through the pervious night's agenda. "The music was popping at Cobalt," he said, but I couldn’t get the bear couple to have a three way. So I hooked up with a guy on O St. I met him on gay.com."
Eric stopped suddenly, in mid-flow. "Wait a minute," he said slyly, glancing from Will to Caesar. "Aren't we here because of your new love, Will? I'm sure I sensed jealously in Caesar's voice when he called trying to find where you were staying."
Caesar bristled. "That wasn't jealousy in my voice," he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "That was me crying for you to attend an AA meeting with Will here. Since he got sober a second time I have no one to have cocktails with.”
"Everything in moderation, my friends," Will replied, raising his standard Red Bull in a toast and then drinking deeply in a bid to hide his confusion. Jealousy? Had Caesar really been jealous over him? And how did he feel about it if he did?
"So," Eric propped, interrupting his chain of thoughts. "Who is this new love of your life, Will? Tell all: did you meet him at Cobalt? Or did you finally manage to get Mike over there's cell phone number?"
"Well," Will paused, enjoying the rapt attention of the two men. He was used to stepping aside for Caesar, letting him be the center of attention. But that didn't mean Will didn't enjoy some attention of his own: he was, after all, the biggest porn star in the bar at this particular moment.
"It's not a person," he explained, enjoying his friends' puzzled looks. "It’s a thing."
"This isn't going to be some blow up doll story, is it?" interrupted Caesar. “Because I think I'm going to need a Lemondrop if so."
Ignoring him, and smiling slightly to himself, Will began his tale.
"So, after Cobalt last night I returned to the townhouse on O street where I’m staying,” he said, "and started flipping through channels on the television. And I came upon this shot of a lobby. It was a channel I never had before."
“You called us all the way down here because of some lobby channel on the TV?” asked Eric.
“Eric shut up,” yelled Caesar over the noise of the bar. He was interested, in spite of himself.
"The thing is," Will continued, "that there isn't a lobby in the building. I sat there for hours staring at it. Until I fell asleep, in fact."
Caesar rolled his eyes again. "Well that explains the luggage under his eyes," he said. “I keep telling you: men in their 40s who work out regularly need at least 8 hours asleep a night. If you don’t, you’ll look and act like that old muscle queen standing by the door and peering at everyone. Big shoulders, but angry at life."
“But still having great sex in the antique store backroom. We hooked up two weeks ago at the antique shop he owns by Dupont,” grinned Eric. “Besides Will already has big shoulders. Its only a matter of time before he is angry.”
Will ignored their banter. Retelling the story had reawakened his fascination in it. He wanted to get to the end. "The channel was still on when I woke up this morning," he said, "And I watched it again, hoping to see someone."
"And?" demanded Eric? "Did you?"
Will nodded. “I saw a blond guy in his mid 30s come off the elevator in a tight T-shirt. Just for a moment I thought there was something familiar about him, but before I could work out what it was, he was gone. I think I may have spotted him last month in Palm Springs, at the White Party, but I'm not sure."
“Was he cute?” asked Caesar.
"I'm not sure," Will admitted. "He looked cute, but honestly, he had his back to the camera most of the time, so it was really hard to tell. He did have some type of tribal tattoo on his arm. Something about his hair seemed like he needed a haircut: it wasn’t very long, but it was full.
"So you don’t even know if the guy was gay?" Eric asked petulantly.
Caesar complained, “This story is stupid. Anyway, we have news. Eric and I have decided to see each other.”
Eric and Caesar looked at each other and started to kiss in front Will. Just like that. Caesar had once again managed to walk right in and steal Will's limelight. Will’s temper grew. He had planned to end his story there. But now he was pissed.
He wanted the night.
He wanted Eric.
He wanted the attention.
“Let me finish!” yelled Will. The two men stopped kissing for a moment and turned toward Will. Yes, once more he had their attention.
"He had a Colt Magazine in his hand as he walking off the elevator,” Will replied.
“He was leafing through it and then stopped at a picture. It was a picture of Colt Model Jake Tanner in army fatigues. He was staring at the picture for like ten minutes. Kind of touching himself. Then I noticed him looking around to see if there was anyone around. There wasn't."
Eric and Caesar were both paying him their full attention now. Their bodies no longer touched at the bar. "And?" said Eric impatiently. "What did he do?"
"He dropped his pants," Will deadpanned. "Right there in the lobby. Then he started jacking off."
Eric's eyes looked like they were about to jump right out of their sockets. "What did you do?" he questioned excitedly. "Was he hot? Did he have a big dick?"
“I couldn’t stop watching,” explained Will. “But I never saw his dick. His ass was to the camera. I could see his ass move and his hand went back and forth across his chest. I’m pretty sure he came all over the floor."
Will was enjoying being the center of attention again. It felt good. More than that, though, it felt
right. It was the way things should be. He wasn't going to let Caesar, or Hazel, or whoever he was being this week, fly in and steal the spotlight from him. To take Eric from him. Not tonight, ahead of this, the first circuit party in DC. The truth was, of course, that there was no hot young guy in the lobby. There was no pants dropping, no jacking off, and no pictures of Jake Tanner. All there was, in fact, was the sleepless night of an insomniac, who'd been kept company by the lobby channel on the TV, fascinated by the people going in and out. The figures on the screen didn't need to drop their pants to awaken Will's interest: people interested him anyway. Where were they going, he wondered? Where had they been? What were their stories?
Over the last few years Will had been telling more and more stories. Once he had convinced a guy he met online he was Frank Flowers, a 30s something lawyer. The man’s name was Mark Clifford. He was in his 50s and Will told Mark everything he thought he wanted to hear. It worked. Every day Mark would email Will, telling him about his life, and his affection for him. In a strange way, Will almost grew to love him and his romantic emails. One day, though, Mark emailed him to say that he was in San Francisco and wanted to meet up. Will hadn't responded. How could he?
Mark's insistence on meeting puzzled him. Why would he want the truth? Hadn't he been playing a game too? Following Will's lack of response, Mark’s emails expressed hurt and sadness. They reflected loss of something that was never really found. Once again Will was telling people what they wanted to hear. Like a great romance chemist he combined fact with fiction – creating positions of half-truths. The lobby story was his latest concoction. It was his greatest entrepreneurial vision supported by some certainty.
Will’s mystery man was based on a guy who had come to the door around 3:00 am. He looked to be in his early 30s. But when he wasn’t let in the lobby, he left as quickly as he arrived. In all the hours Will spent watching the lobby video, his face was the only one he truly saw. Something was familiar about him. He looked like a guy Will had thought he'd seen passed out at the pool party, but he wasn’t sure. That’s when it hit him. He
was the guy who'd passed out. The one his “Tweaker” friend had just left. He smiled at the reflection. His hours of searching the familiarity finally paid off.
“What was his story or stories?” wondered Will.
Stories. If he had learned anything in the DC political circles, it was that “popping” stories was an art form – and one he was getting better at day by day. He knew the men would ask him about the mysterious lobby man all night. He would get more attention from that one story that Caesar would from his outrageous dress. Or his newfound relationship with Eric. Will sipped his drink, enjoying the secret knowledge that gave him power.
He didn’t mean to exaggerate the story. Or give it a life of its own. It was originally meant as just small white lie. But his jealousy over Caesar had created something more. Just like in porn, a person’s fantasy life, can over take his real life. Wills life, though, was based on fantasy anyway. He had lived so long in this world he was no longer sure what reality was. Tom had been his reality, but Tom was gone. Eric was supposed to be his replacement and now he was gone, too. The only thing Will seemed to have left was his stories. And tonight he would hook up with some hot guy and make it more than it was. Another fantasy. Another myth. Another story. Another life.
As Eric and Caesar began to kiss. Will looked back down at his watch.
"Hey!" he looked at his watch. "We need to get ready for the Cherry Ball."
He needed material for his tale as soon as possible.
Copyright © 2006 Ken Cimino
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