Matt and Jens by Gordon Phillips

Author:Gordon Phillips [Phillips, Gordon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2019-01-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6: Showers

The next day Matt had something of a hangover—he seemed less capable than I at “holding his booze.” I was sitting in the kitchen having a coffee when he shambled in. His hair was tousled and he was wearing only those gray sweat pants—which meant I was assaulted by the vision of his chest hair again.

“Morning,” he mumbled.

“Morning,” I said, taking advantage of his bleary-eyed state to stare unabashedly. “Coffee?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I got him coffee, black with sugar as he liked it, and then, while standing over him, deliberately put my hand on his bare shoulder.

“You okay?”

He took a sip of coffee and seemed to consider. Finally, he shrugged, and said, “I guess.”

I kept my hand where it was. I even began to massage his shoulder.

“You feel tense,” I said, and, moving behind him, began to massage both shoulders. He grunted but didn’t object. I noticed, however, that the front of his sweats was beginning to tent noticeably. That didn’t bother me. I was getting hard from the intimate contact as well. I felt a strong temptation to do something about it, but then pulled myself back—and removed my hands. His shoulders drooped slightly when I did that, and he gave a little sigh.

I reseated myself, adjusting myself discretely under the table.

After another sip of coffee, he looked at me. His gaze was uneasy—that was no surprise; but it was also questioning. He put his head a little on one side.

I sat there, and looked back at him, thinking benevolent thoughts.

He frowned suddenly. “I’m not gay.”

I controlled my surprise at this, and merely shrugged. “Fair enough.”

He looked uncomfortable. “I just have this—problem.”

I shook my head. “Remember what I said, that some psychologists believe that it’s not a pathology at all; there’s nothing inherently wrong with it.”

He opened his mouth. “But—”

I shook my head. “I know. It’s frowned on, it causes problems. But like I said, that’s the effect of not just your nature, but the interaction of that nature with social norms.”

He nodded hesitantly.

“And, I think there’s something else. I think that it’s partly your lack of being comfortable in it. Like I said: being yourself.”

He considered, then made a frustrated noise and waved a hand in the air. I reached out and put my hand on the hand that still held his coffee.

“There are ways, you know.”

He looked at me, half hopeful, half suspicious. Then he laughed. “Okay, doc. Help me out, will you?” The words were barely out of his mouth when he turned red and said, “I mean—therapy-wise.”

I smiled. “Okay. But here’s the first thing: you have to believe—it’s not easy, I know—that I have your best interests in mind. You may not understand, or even like what I’m doing, but if you have trust—well, I think I can help you.” I added “somewhat” in my mind, but didn’t say it.

He appeared to consider, then he nodded. “Okay.” And then he settled into looking at me expectantly, so that I almost laughed aloud. He seemed to be expecting me to pull a rabbit out of a hat or something.

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