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  "It doesn't look like it could be either a boner or a mobile phone." I was flustered and floundering.

  Teddy laughed, unzipped his jeans, and slid them down his waist. His erection still strained at maximum engorgement, veering left, aimed, it seemed, right at me. A large blot of pre-ejaculate near the tip had created a transparent wet spot in his white underwear and I could see the crown of his erection peeking through. Teddy lifted his hands, palms up, and his erection bobbed. "It's real," he said, smirking like he had just told a funny joke.

  I pretended to still not believe it. I bent even closer, as if I was inspecting something mysterious, then I don't know what got into me. I guess I was playing the part of the skeptic too far. I flicked the wet spot, bouncing my fingertip off the head of his erection. Teddy gasped and clutched himself, but it was too late. My flick, which was harder than I had intended, triggered his orgasm.

  "Oh hell, Kieran," he uttered, unable to stop the pulsations.

  "I am so sorry!"

  Teddy climbed off the couch and went to the bathroom. I was both horrified and titillated to extreme levels. I wanted to apologize to him a hundred times, but stayed seated and assessed how foolish I had acted. When I realized his ooze was on the tip of my finger, I smelled its potent scent and slid it across my tongue. Instantly, I was stiff enough that I also could have climaxed at the slightest provocation.

  Teddy's taste lingered in my mouth. He emerged from the bathroom with his jeans zipped back up and snapped me with a hand towel, causing only minimal pain on my thigh, which was protected by my sweatpants.

  "You're a kooky guy, aren't you?" he asked rhetorically.

  "I feel bad, Teddy. We were joking around I was trying to play along."

  "But I didn't think you'd actually strike me. I didn't see that coming."

  The flush surging again into my face made my head pound. My extreme embarrassment made it impossible for me to utter a single word. Teddy must have taken pity on me. He rolled the hand towel into a ball and set it down, then spoke to me with an unperturbed voice.

  "Kieran, let it go. I'm not upset with you. It was my fault. I'm the one who unzipped my pants."

  Teddy swigged his last sips of whiskey, took the empty glass to the kitchen and rinsed it with water, and moved toward the narrow stairway. "Goodnight. Time for bed."

  Chapter 3

  Early the next morning I was up at dawn. I decided to take a jog for at least half an hour or so to clear away the effects of the previous night's beers before driving into the conservation area for my internship. Though it was only three beers, I refused to take any risk that I could still be partially impaired while operating my car. I moved quietly on the stairs to not disturb Teddy's slumber. But when I reached the base of the staircase, he was doing push-ups on the floor in front of the couch wearing an undershirt and loose-fitting boxers.

  I fetched a glass from the kitchen and drank two full cups of cold and purified water stored in the refrigerator.

  "Good morning," I said to Teddy, when he completed a round of what had to have been at least forty push-ups.

  "You're also an early riser, Kieran?" Teddy immediately began a lengthy set of deep knee bends.

  "Not usually, but I feel like a run this morning. Would you like to join me?"

  "No, go on ahead," he answered. "I'm just getting started on my morning exercises. It's a daily routine I've held on to from my days serving in the military."

  My run began so sluggish that I stopped after a few hundred yards to tighten the laces on my sneakers. I knew that wouldn't help much, but thought it might reduce the chances of spraining my ankle. By the time I reached the river, my breathing was in a solid zone and the fatigue in my legs had drained away. I recounted the incident last night with Teddy and picked up my pace. I didn't think he had been drunk, though he had imbibed plenty of whiskey. I had worried it would be awkward seeing him the morning after, but during our brief encounter while he exercised he did not seem the least bit reprehensive or self-conscious.

  I abbreviated my jog and made it back to the house in twenty minutes so I would have plenty of time to eat breakfast and get ready. When I stepped inside, I heard Teddy in the shower. I heard him crooning one of Frank Sinatra's tunes behind the closed bathroom door.

  A thought flashed into my mind and I jetted up the staircase. Teddy's bedroom door was cracked open. Moving as silently as I could on the old floor, I entered his bedroom. Two dozen hats of all kinds—ball caps, cowboy hats, fedoras, visors, bucket hats—were suspended on nails and filled an entire wall. On the opposite wall were floor-to-ceiling shelves holding shoes, boots, jeans, and undergarments. Teddy's bed was made and his personal items—keys, wallet, watch, and so forth—laid on a wooden ledge under the window.

  The sound of the water shutting off downstairs reminded me I had little time to act. I dropped to my knees and looked inside his closet until I found his clothes hamper. I dug around and found the underwear stained with his seed. I also wanted to take Teddy's black socks, but when I heard the downstairs bathroom door open I panicked and dashed out of his room. I hid Teddy's underwear in the pocket of a raincoat hanging in my closet, concealing it with an effort that would have matched the exactitude of stealing a valuable gem. I opted to skip taking a shower myself and changed into my uniform, a beige and olive pair of short sleeve coveralls with hiking boots.

  Teddy was in his room upstairs by then. Logic told me he wasn't going to notice that I had been in his room. Nonetheless, I worried. If caught, I had no good reason at all to account for entering his room, much less taking his underwear. Part of me wanted to race out of there and not face him. Another part of me understood I might not ever see Teddy again. I had finished a power bar, banana, and smoothie and was getting ready to leave when Teddy came downstairs.

  "Looking sharp," he said, though he barely glanced at me.

  "Thank you. I have to wear it every day on the job. It doesn't fit as well as it should. Too tight."

  "I'm heading out this morning. You have the place to yourself again, at least for awhile."

  "Honestly, I liked having company."

  "If you have some of my whiskey, fine, but leave plenty around for me," he said.

  "I wouldn't take your things," I replied, sensing I might have made a Freudian slip.

  "I'll be back in a week or so. And I'll probably get some revenge."

  "Revenge?" I lifted my eyebrows, unable to read the stoic expression on his face.

  Teddy smirked. "The prank, or whatever it was. You nailed me good and I think payback is fair game."

  "You mean hitting my dick?"

  "No, Kieran, I didn't say anything about touching your dick. It's safe from me."

  "Okay. You're saying I should expect a prank of some kind?"

  "Don't worry about it." Teddy moved into his kitchen and I left, waving him a goodbye.

  By the time I started my car I was wondering which day Teddy might return. As I drove along the winding roads I thought about what I could get him to show my appreciation for the gourmet pasta dinner he had brought me. Then, a fact creeped into my musings. Teddy was going to take his laundry with him and discover what I had stolen.

  Chapter 4

  I waited with great anticipation for Teddy's return. I even went as far as getting a haircut I didn't think I really needed, but I had always been told my appearance was best when my hair was cut closer to my scalp. So I gave up my naturally disheveled look—my thick hair was unruly and impossible to style well—for a military-style cut similar to Teddy's. I also found myself taking longer jogs and adding the daily exercises—push-ups, deep knee bends, sit ups—that I had seen Teddy do that morning.

  On the day marking the one week point since his departure, I evaluated my body in the bathroom mirror after returning to my rented room from the conservation area. What struck me was how far I had progressed during the summer. I was certainly not built like a weightlifter or Olympic athlete, but I gazed that day on a toned body with a
lean stomach, improved shoulder and arm muscles, and legs that had taken a pleasing shape that further accentuated the shape of my butt. Speaking of which, I had been told once by a close friend, someone who had no sexual interest in me, and vice versa, that my rear end was my best physical feature. She had described it as "perky and pinchable," and honestly, until that moment, I had never regarded my derriere as anything special. For her it was a simple and frank comment. To me, it boosted my self-esteem beyond anything she could have foreseen when making the remark, helping me think that I might have a body that at least some other people could find worthy of sexual attraction. Trust me, it was a startling revelation.

  Anyway, Teddy did not show up on the seventh day as I had so hoped and expected. Not on the eighth or ninth day, either. By the tenth day, I woke that morning with the blues. I told myself it was a silly and meaningless melancholy, but I had trouble shaking it. It was not just the fear of maybe not ever seeing Teddy again, but my regrets for my actions. I didn't regret touching him, even if it was just a flick of a finger, and I didn't regret stealing his underwear, which I had used every night since while touching myself and fantasizing about him. I regretted that during our conversation I had spoken so openly about myself without learning anything about Teddy. I literally knew almost nothing about him. I had tried to go back into Teddy's room and explore some more, but he had locked his door when he departed.

  Also, my deepest fear and regret was that I might have somehow repulsed Teddy. I wondered if the fully sober Teddy might look back at the whole incident with me with disdain. If so, he would never want to lay eyes on me again. It would have meant the person I idolized and lusted for, beyond anything I had experienced before, had sheer and utter contempt for me.

  Fortunately, my worst concerns were wrong. But it would be a few more days before this became plain to me.

  Chapter 5

  Coincidentally, it was after the night when I finally helped myself to a glass of Teddy's whiskey that something bewildering occurred. It was a Sunday morning and I had slept in. In that hazy state just before waking, when I was semi-conscious, I sensed that it was late morning even though there were no yellow glows on my eyelids.

  Then I remembered. I had wrapped Teddy's stolen underwear—the pair he had accidentally ejaculated into almost two weeks ago—around my face the night before while I masturbated to my memories reliving the incident. Because of the whiskey, which I was not accustomed to, I must have fallen asleep immediately after I had come.

  Indeed, I pulled the garment off my face and noticed that my lights were on, my bedroom door was open, my nude body was sprawled on the bed above the blankets, and blotches of dried semen covered my chest and stomach. I lifted myself up on my elbows and laughed at my predicament. As much as I longed for Teddy, thank goodness I was the only one here last night, I thought.

  That is when the lightning bolt struck me. It was a nick, at first, and then magnified to breathtaking horror as I began to put the pieces together. The pair of underwear that had just encased my face was not the pair of underwear I had stolen from Teddy!

  I pivoted on my bed and sat upright. My head pounded. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and held the underwear up for inspection. This was a pair of plaid boxers. The underwear I had stolen from Teddy was a pair of white briefs.

  I liked wearing boxers under my coveralls during my hours of service with my internship. The coveralls uniform, already too hot for the summer months, but necessary for protection when hiking around in the wooded areas, was an ideal fit with the breathing room that boxers afforded me, while preventing the chafing that would have occurred if I had tried to go commando.

  Had the whiskey affected me so much that I had mistakenly used my own boxers as a masturbatory aid instead of Teddy's briefs? But all of my boxers were solid colors, and a few were striped. Nothing plaid.

  I squinted at the tag under the backside band. It clearly read size 34.

  I wore size 30 in the waist for all of my underwear and pants.

  I leaped from my bed and checked the raincoat pocket in my closet I had used as a hiding place for Teddy's stolen underwear. It was empty. I scanned the floor, crawled on my hands and knees to peer under the bed, and still found no sign of his briefs.

  I was vexed and seeking any solution beyond the one that I deemed unthinkable and impossible. It would be a humiliation so vast I could scream at the top of my lungs.

  Finally, I sniffed the boxers and thought I recognized the scent. It was faint. Too faint for me to be certain. But it was Teddy's scent.

  I had certainly not heard Teddy arrive in the middle of the night. But was it possible he had come? I jumped in a pair of sweatpants and knocked on Teddy's door. No answer. I tried the knob and it was locked. I scampered down the narrow stairway, taking two steps at a time, and the living room was empty. The kitchen was clean. Too tidy. I remembered leaving the whiskey glass out on the counter, as I had been too tired to wash it. Now, it was gone. The counter was bare and clear of any dishes. I looked in the trash and found a wrapper for something I had not eaten. A package for two bagels.

  "Oh shit!" I cursed. The pounding in my skull made me dizzy. The reality of my situation was becoming undeniable, yet I still desperately sought to hold onto denial. Was it really fathomable that Teddy had arrived in the middle of the night, found me passed out and naked in my open and lit room, and peeled his briefs from my face and replaced them with a pair of his boxers?

  My first instinct was to flee. I could never face him again. I damned myself for trying his whiskey and not being more careful. Incredibly stupid! Panicked, I ran through ideas of what I could possibly do if I packed my bags and tried to find a cheap motel and then another room for rent. I had paid the manager enough rent for the whole summer in a lump sum. Would she refund part of my money, I wondered.

  I opened the refrigerator for some chilled and purified water to try and clear my mind. That is when I found Teddy's note. Open and resting on the middle ledge, it confirmed my greatest dread.

  "I got my revenge. Now we're even. No grudges. I'll bring you another pasta dinner tonight."

  He had signed his letter simply with the letter "T" and had underlined the words "no grudges."

  Chapter 6

  The evening sky was dynamic. The vivid hues and wispy clouds to the west contrasted with the approaching storm clouds and menacing shades of grey in the east. I doubled the length of my typical evening jog, finding my second wind while I ran alongside the river, which flowed faster than usual due to recent heavy rains. The lights above the garage were on and I knew right then that Teddy was inside.

  I slowed to a walk and inhaled deep breaths to calm my nerves.

  "There you are," he said as I entered the room. A hearty plate full of steaming pasta, surrounded by a napkin, fork, bowl of salad, and basket of bread, was positioned on a food tray beside the lounge chair. The room did not have a dining room table, so I always used the tray and ate in the chair in front of the television. "I just zapped it in the microwave for you so be careful not to burn your tongue."

  I thanked Teddy, avoiding eye contact, relieved that he was equitable in spirit. While I waited for the food to cool I poured myself a beer in a frozen mug and sat in the lounger with the meal on my lap. Teddy joined me, plopping down on the couch and turning up the volume of the television.

  "You already ate?" I asked. It was an obvious question, but I felt awkward eating without inquiring about him first.

  "At the restaurant," he answered. "The same one I brought you food from before. Italian place. The best restaurant within thirty miles."

  I took a bite of pasta piled on top of a corner wedge of garlic bread. "It's delicious!" Teddy nodded his head and smiled, but was watching the television monitor, not me. "You didn't have to do this, you know."

  "A peace offering."

  "Were we at war?"

  Teddy chuckled, making no other reply. He took off his boots and sucked on an unlit cigar while mesmerized by
a show about a serial killer abducting a pledge recruit from a sorority house.

  I finished every bite of the dinner he brought me and handled the dishes. I poured a second beer into my mug and watched the rest of the movie with him. There was hardly fifteen minutes left of it. The alcohol may have helped me blurt out a bold question.

  "Would you like me to go?" I asked.

  Teddy muted the television and turned toward me. "Go where?"

  "Anywhere but here. Do you want me to move out, Teddy?"

  "I don't see why."

  I couldn't help but stammer. "Because of what I did. What you saw." I chugged the rest of my beer.

  Teddy reached for his boots. "Take a walk with me?"

  "Okay," I answered. I was still in my jogging clothes. I pulled up my socks and followed him outside.

  We strolled at a slow pace so Teddy could swig sips of whiskey from his glass. Even though it was dark, the moonlight was bright enough that we could follow the footpath that ascended the hill and overlooked his vineyards and the river. I misread Teddy's extended silence and suffered from angst.

  "It won't be easy for me to do, but I could manage," I said. "I apologize to you and I can move out tomorrow if being here is troublesome to you."

  "You are not troublesome," he replied.

  "Are you still angry with me?"

  "No, relax, Kieran. Don't dwell on it. Pranks and escapades are bound to happen when guys get together. I sure saw much more severe things in the Army."

  "But really like that?"

  "You mean gay guys?"

  "Um, yeah, I guess."

  "Of course, there were plenty of gays in the Army."

  "And their pranks or escapades involved you?" I asked.

  "Sure. I fucked around from time to time. We all did. It's no big deal. I haven't done it since. Not with a guy, I mean. But things happen at times and you can't live your life stressing out over every move you make, isn't that right?"