To education and to my stepfather who always expressed the importance of it.
Published by Claytoven Walker
Copyright 2011 Claytoven Walter
Smashwords Edition License Notes
Clay Walker had grown weary of living a cloistered life at the Unificational Church. He was tired of selling flowers on street corners and pretending to be happy, to be pious, when, inside, he felt sad and hypocritical. Most of all he wanted to get rid of the guilty conscience* plaguing his mind. He had finally come to accept his homosexuality; for there was nothing to do to change it. Religion obviously wasn’t helping. Being gay wasn’t a choice; it was part of who he was. He had also decided to speak with the church director, Mr. Stetler, about leaving.
The next morning, Clay awoke and telephoned his mother, Ruth, who lived on Chicago’s south side. She hadn’t heard from her son for many years because one policy of the Unificational Church is their members must relinquish all ties with their past, sinful life.
“Hi mama, will you come and pick me up?” he asked.
“Of course,” she replied with surprise and contentment in her voice.
Clay could hear the joy in his mother’s voice. Her son had left home at the age of eighteen to join the Unificational Church. She cried so many nights after his departure. She thought she had lost her son forever. Therefore, you can understand the joy she felt upon hearing those precious words.
After making arrangements with his mother, Clay spoke with Mr. Stetler. He dreaded having to have this conversation. Mr. Stetler had always been a good brother in Christ, and a good friend.
“Mr. Stetler I’ve decided to leave the church,” said Clay, lowering his head to conceal his shame.
“Why Clay?” he asked, surprised.
“Because I know the church’s position on homosexuality and I’m gay.”
Mr. Stetler was even more surprised to hear those words. He had never imagined hearing Clay speak them, and so honestly also.
“I’ve already phoned my mother,” Clay continued; “she will arrive shortly to pick me up and take me home.”
Mr. Stetler began to explain to Clay the peril awaiting his soul once he’d left the confines of the church. His efforts were all in vain; all his good advice fell on deaf ears, for Clay had made up his mind. He was going to leave. Ultimately, Mr. Stetler realized there was nothing he could say or do to change Clay’s mind.
“This is not a prison Clay. If you’ve decided to go and there’s nothing I can say to alter that decision, then I must allow you to leave. However, it’s my duty to warn you that you will have a difficult life.”
Mr. Stetler’s grave tone changed as he asked, “At what time will your mother arrive to pick you up Clay?”
“She’ll arrive soon,” he replied.
When his mother arrived, Clay was waiting at the front door with the same small suitcase he’d arrived with several years prior. When he had entered the church at the age of eighteen to renounce the world, even though he knew not the world, he had few possessions. When his eyes met his mother’s the love he had always felt for her was still there, and she had definitely not stopped loving and thinking daily about her first born son. It was as if no time at all had passed between them. They had been united in love forever and there was nothing that could happen that would change that wonderful situation, or so the young man thought. His mother didn’t want to meet the church director. She had always felt some trickery had occurred to make her son leave home so abruptly. She simply wanted to bask in the happiness of her son’s return home.
“Are you ready to go?” his mother asked.
“I guess so. I’ve already said goodbye to everyone,” he answered.
It had been four years since Clay had been home. When he arrived he felt like a stranger. His two brothers, Randy and Ronald, and his two sisters, Barbra and Linda, were happy he was home too. They loved their brother; he had always seemed special. To celebrate, his mother cooked a wonderful meal that evening and they ate joyously while Clay recounted his experiences during the past four years. His sister Barbra, seeing him again for the first time said:
“He looks like Moses when he came down from the mountain with the Ten Commandments.”
They all laughed. It felt good to be home. It was great to see his mother, his step-father, Russell, and his brothers and sister and to be back with them all, but Clay was different from them and he knew it. That night, as he laid in bed, he felt as though his life was beginning anew. What would he do next? When he was a child, he had always dreamed of becoming a doctor. He had always been a good student and probably could have become a doctor if he had honestly set his mind to it. At this point, however, he wasn’t sure and decided to simply enjoy being home for now.
Ultimately, Clay decided to become a hairstylist. There was a cosmetology school in downtown Chicago that interested him, Marinello’s. Marinello’s was a fine school with a wonderful reputation. Furthermore, he loved downtown Chicago; it was so proud, sophisticated and exciting. Downtown Chicago was not only beautiful, but it was also the place where Clay had encountered lots of gay sexual activity in the men’s room of high end department stores, which he stumbled upon just by chance. Was it really just by chance? Lots of freaky white men would frequent them and they intrigued him, because Chicago was a very segregated city in the 70s. Clay was a budding snow queen, even though he wouldn’t know that’s what it was called until many years later.
Although he held fond memories of downtown Chicago, Clay had his first gay sexual experience in his own neighborhood. It was with the “boy next door.” Actually, the boy lived a few doors away; his name was Dicky. He was the finest teenager in the neighborhood to Clay that is. At the time he and Clay started messing around Dicky was about sixteen. Clay was fourteen. Manhood was developing beautifully in Clay’s young companion. He was tall, medium complexion with broad shoulders and chest muscles that already popped. The rest of his body was just as perfect, strong legs, chiseled abs and a firm ass. Dicky was a classic jock. His face retained its boyish charm, and he had a sexy smile. At sixteen, Dicky already possessed a man-sized penis also.
Clay was his complete opposite. He was petite, stylish, extremely handsome, but somewhat soft and feminine. The teenage girls in the neighborhood adored him. Clay not only had a boyfriend, but he also had a girlfriend; her name was Gwen. She was an early bloomer too. At the age of fourteen she was already what some would have called a brick shit house. She had long, beautiful hair, a gorgeous face and figure, and talk about ass. That girl had an ass that had all the teenage boys and some men in the neighborhood drooling. However, she was merely a cover for Clay’s burgeoning homosexuality; he really loved Dicky.
Dicky finished school after Clay and after a hard day studying, they would get together. They usually kissed and fondled each other at Clay’s house. Dicky would come over and they’d go to the boy’s room in the basement for privacy, completely oblivious to what adults might think about their close friendship. One day, they were in Clay’s room kissing like Romeo, and Juliette, but they forgot to lock the door. Brenda, the first born, entered the room and was completely shocked to see her eldest brother in the arms of this older boy. Immediately, she ran and told her mother.
“Mama Clay and Dicky are downstairs in the room kissing,” she shouted.
Clay could hear her ratting him out from the basement room. He felt fear mounting inside him as he searched his young mind for excuses to appease his mother. There were none; therefore, he simply decided to lie.
“Clay, come up here boy!” shouted his mother from her upstairs room.
When Barbra left the room, Clay told Dicky to go home, which he gladly did. He didn’t want to be a part of this unhappy scene, which frightened him also. More than anything, Dicky hoped Clay’s mother wouldn’t say anything to his mother about it.
When Clay arrived at his mother’s room he was shaking like a leaf.
“Boy was you down there in that room kissing Dicky?” his mother demanded, feigning anger.
“Naw mama,” answered Clay as he lowered his heading indicating he was lying.
His mother knew he was lying; she knew Clay better than he knew himself. What could his mother do about it? She wasn’t about to punish her child for something as harmless and as innocent as that.
The next day, Clay and Dicky were kissing again, but this time at Dickey’s house with the door locked. Clay enjoyed sucking on Dickey’s thick, hard dick. Hey, that’s what some homosexuals do. Dicky enjoyed it too. During one of their make out sessions, Dicky had even tried to stick his big dick into Clay’s ass. It was much too painful.
Dicky wasn’t the only man in Clay’s life though. Clay was also attracted to his high school music teacher, Mr. Parker. Mr. Parker was a sexy black male about mid thirties with a great body. He was obviously gay and had a high pitched voice like Sylvester’s. During Clay’s freshman year, he enrolled in Mr. Parker’s class. It goes without saying that Mr. Parker’s gaydar was fine tuned enough to realize Clay was gay, just as Clay knew Mr. Parker was gay. They were also aware of the fact there was mutual attraction between the two of them. To make a long story short, one day after class Mr. Parker invited Clay to his apartment and he accepted. The following Saturday afternoon, Clay arrived at Mr. Parker’s knowing what to expect. However, when the time came to do the deed, Clay got scared and left abruptly. Could that be the reason why some people believe gay teachers are all child molesters?
Clay’s puppy love affair with Dicky and his infatuation for his music teacher lasted until he graduated high school and joined the Unificational Church. Was God trying to save him? Who knows? However, now that Clay was no longer a member of the Church, he felt as though he had wasted four years of his life. They were surely not wasted years, for during that time a religious foundation had developed in him that would be with him all his life. He figured that during those four “wasted” years, he could have gone to and graduated from college, and be on his way toward fulfilling his childhood dream of becoming a doctor. Nonetheless, there he was once again in downtown Chicago on his way to an interview to enter cosmetology school.
The interview was non-threatening and the director of admissions found Clay a well qualified applicant. He was accepted and for the next year Clay proved to be a promising student. He was punctual, courteous, and, most importantly, the women loved him. Too bad he wasn’t interested in them. One woman was especially fond of him, Brenda. Brenda worked for Amtrak. When the train stopped in Chicago, she would come to the school and have her hair done. Her favorite student was Clay. They struck up quite a good friendship. Brenda lived in San Francisco, the gay Mecca. Clay had learned about San Francisco and gay life on late night talk shows such as The David Ruskind Show that he listened to secretly late at night. He had heard about how freely gays lived there and dreamed of going there one day to experience that freedom, that life, that liberty, and that pursuit of happiness. Brenda had told him previously on numerous occasions that if he ever wanted to come to San Francisco he could live with her and her sister Monica. Did she secretly understood his real desires?
Brenda wouldn’t be the only person Clay would know in California however. Barbra had already moved to California; she lived in Mountain View, a small city south of San Francisco. One Christmas she returned home to Chicago and bragged about how beautiful it was in the Bay Area, and how much she enjoyed living there. That had also captivated Clay’s curiosity. Soon, cosmetology school would end. It would be a perfect time to relocate to another city. Besides, Clay was twenty three years old and more than ready to leave his parent’s home and become a self-sufficient adult.
The next time Brenda came to town, he told her he was interested in taking her up on her offer. Brenda happily agreed. Like the girls in Clay’s neighborhood, Brenda thought Clay was cute and could imagine making love with this young, talented black man. But, how often do our imaginings and fantasies disappoint us?
After graduation and after passing the state board exam, Clay departed for San Francisco. Once again, Ruth would have to suffer the pain of his departure. She showed no discontent or grave concern, however, for she always knew her eldest son would take care of himself. Like all mothers, she wanted her child to be happy. If he wanted to go to San Francisco, she would definitely not stand in his way no matter what she thought in her heart about San Francisco.
Clay packed his few possessions and flew to San Francisco. Brenda met him at the airport and drove him to her fine apartment located in the exclusive Diamond Heights area of San Francisco. It was a three bedroom apartment with a magnificent view of the San Francisco Bay.
After settling in the apartment and visiting most of the tourist attractions, Clay set out to find employment. He was smart enough to know that a person can’t live anywhere free for very long. He knew intuitively that good intentions and situations may turn ugly quite quickly. He had experienced that several times in the Unificational Church when he was out selling flowers. He would become stranded, or get verbally assaulted by those who hated the church and its doctrine. He knew anything could happen to a stranger practically alone in a new city. However, if an individual has money he’s always in a quasi safe place and has more options.
Therefore, he purchased a newspaper and began searching for employment. Strangely, he completely dismissed the idea of becoming a stylist. His confidence vacillated depending on the circumstances and situations. Clay realized he could complete what was necessary to pass the cosmetology exam, but he felt he lacked the confidence to become a renowned stylist. That was not true though. The truth is he tends to take the path of the least resistance, the easy way out. Another irony was he really didn’t like bitchy, “queenie” guys, and hair salons were full of them, or so he thought. What ever the case may be, he needed a job and he needed it now.
As Clay pounded the pavement South of Market, he came upon a building where the employees were picketing outside. He noticed some individuals were crossing the picket line. He walked over to inquire about the situation and one of the managers, Tom Marvin, asked him:
“Are you looking for a job?”
“Yeah, I’m new in town and could definitely use a job,” Clay replied.
“Do you have any reservations about crossing the picket line?” Tom asked.
“No,” Clay answered, not realizing the gravity of his action.
Frankly, he was completely oblivious to the fact he was betraying other workers. All he knew was he was in a new town without any financial support. He needed a job and to him the strike was a godsend. However, his conscience has developed since then. Some individuals’ conscience never develops.
Pounding the payment had paid off. U-Phone-It Systems hired Clay immediately. The company possessed a certain conscience or shall we say motto: Keep the business profitable and running by any means necessary. U-Phone-It Systems assisted hospitals. More specifically, hospitals across the nation telephoned U-Phone-It Systems daily to have ECGs run via phone lines. Doctors on staff interpreted the ECGs. Clay’s job was to answer the phone, obtain patient information and a readable ECG, take the printout to the doctor to obtain the results, and report the results to the waiting ECG technician. It was a great job; the environment was energetic. Lots of cool, young people worked there. Clay quickly made new friends, and they would introduce him to drugs, sex, and partying, the San Francisco treats.
Al was the first co-worker he met and with whom he became friends. He was a really cute. He looked like the stereotypical white guy found in all the fashion magazines, blond hair, blue-eyes, and so very nice. Al was always energetic and Clay would find out he was on drugs most of the time. His drug of choice was MDA, a precursor to Ecstasy. The two of them would pal around, have lunch together, go shopping on their days off, and talk about all kind of things, but mostly about men. Al was obviously gay, out, and proud of it. He should have been proud; he was a gorgeous young man. One day he told Clay when his parents found out he was gay they disowned him. That’s when Al came to San Francisco and found refuge. Clay could never imagine his parents disowning him. How do parents do that? No conscience, Clay imagined
Next he met Sharon. She was another co-worker with whom he became good friends. She was a little older than he, around Gwen’s age, early thirties perhaps. Clay was about twenty-four. Sharon had two beautiful children, Mark and Denise. How she tortured those kids. Sharon was a strong black woman, not what one would call beautiful, but she had personality plus. He loved Sharon, not romantically of course, simply as a good friend whom he trusted. He spent many days at her home where they’d chat, eat, listen to music, and play with the kids. Sometimes it felt as though he had gotten married. Sharon was the first female friend with whom he confided his sexual orientation. It was no big deal to her, for she had grown up in San Francisco. In fact, she looked as though she may have had relations with women too. Clay always thought Sharon was at the very least bisexual. He thought most women were bisexual.
Next, there was Terry, another guy with whom Clay worked closely. He was one of those Folsom St. “leather guys” who were just a little too Nazi-esque for Clay’s taste. For a time, Terry and Clay worked together on the night shift. Terry was cool; he had a great body too. Because there was little or nothing to do during their shift, Terry would do abdominal exercises with a little wheel he kept in his locker. Clay slept. On many occasions, Clay got the impression Terry wouldn’t mind having sex with him. Unfortunately, Clay hadn’t completely relinquished his religious training, and any indication Terry would give him concerning any romance between the two of them was completely lost upon Clay, which made Terry despise him. Clay was completely oblivious to that also. If only Terry had known how much of a whore he really was though. Clay always thought twice about having sex with fellow employees; it can become complicated.
All in all, Clay enjoyed working at U-Phone-It Systems; he enjoyed living with Brenda and her sister too. He had been living with them for about two months. They were both pleasantly surprised when Clay found employment so quickly. That meant they wouldn’t have to worry he wouldn’t be able to pay his share of the rent, or have to be eventually thrown out on the street, or returned to his mother. Even in the midst of his good fortune; however, an (un)fortunate incident occurred. Gwen and Monica’s mother became ill, and they were terribly worried about her. They told Clay they needed the spare room, because they wanted their mother to live there, in order to better care for her. Since he had already found employment, Clay agreed and began looking for an apartment. It would be his first.
Almost immediately, Clay found a little studio apartment on Polk St., one of the gayest areas in San Francisco besides Castro St. and Folsom St. Now, he could really go wild and that’s exactly what he did. On his days off he went to the bars, where he flirted, and danced and had a good time with the guys. Clay was a bottom. In fag language that means the person who gets penetrated. And what a bottom this young man possessed, but we’ll discuss that later.
When he connected with a hot guy, Clay would take him to his small apartment, where they would fuck for hours. All that religion had made him horny as fuck. After fucking around, Clay would send the guy home; he was finished. He wasn’t trying to cuddle and talk shit. He wasn’t into the lover, or the let’s live together scene just yet. He just wanted to have hot sex, and San Francisco was definitely the place where guys could have hot sex 24/7.
One Monday, after a weekend of partying, Al invited Clay to the Trocadero. The Trocadero was one of the better gay clubs in Frisco. It was located South of Market at the corner of 4th and Bryant St. It wasn’t one of those ghetto clubs. There were no fights and no shootings. Everyone was high on drug and alcohol and trying to have a good time. According to Alex, the hottest guys in town and from out of town frequented the place regularly. The music was the bomb and there was a huge dance floor, where clubbers could get lost in the music and the euphoric atmosphere until sunrise.
That Friday night, Clay would hook up with Al. When they had finally ran into each other in the club Al took Clay to one of the secluded areas and told him:
“You’re gonna have one of the best nights of your life tonight.”
“What’s up?” Clay asked curiously.
“Have you ever taken MDA?” asked Al with a twinkle in his eyes.
“No, what is it?” asked Clay, even more curious than before.”
“Well, it’s a form of speed combined with a hallucinogen. The combination makes you feel fantastic,” replied Al already buzzing, the twinkle in his eyes transforming into a devilish gleam.
Al gave Clay a small capsule and sped off to pursue one of his conquests. Although he trusted Al and knew he wouldn’t intentionally try to hurt him, Clay swallowed the capsule apprehensively with some water, and circled the club to find the guy who would be inside him that night. About fifteen minutes later, he felt a rush of sensuality take possession of his entire body. Everything seemed bright and beautiful. The club had transformed before his very eyes. The lights sparkled brighter. The music seemed even louder than it had before and reached his very soul. The guys even appeared to be cuter and nicer. Clay was a good dancer and after the MDA had taken effect, his feet were even lighter on the dance floor. As he danced solo to his favorite dance tunes, his eyes met Al’s. Al could see that Clay was feeling the MDA, and that he had made a new customer.
The clubbers had been dancing and drinking all night and they were really getting off. A new DJ had come up from Los Angeles and he had rocked the house. When he stopped to take a bathroom break, guys were in the men’s room sniffing poppers and freakin’ too. Clay had never seen anything like this before, but he loved it. The sun was on the horizon and the club was about to close. Clay was still high and still groovin’ when Al and his boy toy for the night came and asked him:
“Are you going to the Endup?”
“What’s that?” asked Clay.
“It’s the after-hours club everyone goes to after the Trocadero closes. Usually, everybody goes home first. They shower, have sex, and take more drugs. Then the party continues at the Endup,” replied Alex’s boy toy.
Since Clay was still buzzin’ he said, “Cool, I’ll meet you guys there.”
Clay hadn’t met anyone that night at the Trocadero; he was too damn high. He left the club, returned home, showered and arrived at the Endup about 7:30am. When he arrived the line to get in was around the block. Hot guys in sexy attire were everywhere.
Except for the hot guys, the Endup is quite different from the Troc. The Endup is a small club at the corner of 6th and Bryant St. On weekends from about 6:00am till about 3:00pm, it’s fag heaven baby. Everything that goes on at the Troc continues at the Endup—the dancing, the flirting, the drugs, the drinking, the sex in the toilets, and of course fag drama. For about the next three years that’s how Clay partied. In the interim, he met, partied with, and had freaky sex with so many guys he lost count. Eventually, during this tumultuous period of drugs, partying and sex, Clay met his first and only lover, John.
Clay met John one night at the Pendulum. The Pendulum was a completely different atmosphere than both the Trocadero and the Endup. It was a dark, trashy little bar in the Castro, the club where white men who craved big, black dick, and where black men seeking a white sugar daddy came to mingle. The first time Clay went there he met a guy named Stewart. He was an older white guy, cute, medium build, with salt and pepper hair and striking tiger-like eyes. He was nasty though. When he met Clay, he was instantly taken by him. He sent Clay a drink and raised his glass to him from afar. Eventually, Clay approached him, thanked him, and they began to converse casually. Ultimately, Stewart invited Clay to his apartment in the Western Addition, which was not too far away from the bar. Clay agreed. When they arrived at Stewart’s place at about 2:30am, they jumped into the shower and the lovemaking began. Clay wasn’t as endowed as Stewart was used to so Stewart began to look curiously at Clay’s wrist.
“Have you ever fisted anyone?” asked Stewart freakishly.
“No,” answered Clay with mixed emotions.
Stewart retrieved some KY he had stashed in a small kit under his bed and prepared himself. He instructed Clay to put his fingertips in a cone shape. He then placed Clay’s cone shaped fingers on his asshole and told him to push. As Clay pushed Stewart’s asshole opened wider. Soon, Clay’s entire hand and wrist had penetrated Stewart’s asshole as Stewart moaned with pleasure.
“Make a fist, and move it back and forth,” demanded Stewart.
Clay complied but this wasn’t really a turn on; it was just nasty. Not wanting to upset the moment, however, Clay continued to thrust his fist up Stewart’s ass until Stewart’s muscles begin to contract. Stewart had ejaculated all over the sheets. Afterward, Clay rushed to the bathroom and jumped into the shower once more. He dressed, kissed Stewart goodbye and never saw him again. That really wasn’t his scene. He would see Stewart at the Pendulum from time to time, but they would never hookup again, simply wave to each other from afar.
John was different. He was younger, taller, and appeared conservatively handsome in his Polo shirt and penny loafers. John wasn’t a classic beauty like Alex, but he was appealing in his own shy, reserved and insecure manner. He had come to San Francisco from southern California. They met at the Pendulum one night and Clay was taken by John’s quiet majesty. John had just broken up with this ugly black queen, but the queen must have had a big, black dick because John was crazy about him/her, whatever. That night Clay and John made casual conversation. The Pendulum was crowded too. The Pendulum didn’t have a real dance floor, so when guys just started to dance in the back corner; it was about to get poppin’. Clay and John were really feeling each other that night.
John worked for a temp agency. The agency was sending him all over the place. However, John enjoyed working in corporate America, and would eventually become a permanent employee for an advertising firm in San Francisco’s financial district. At the end of the night, Clay invited John to his apartment and they made sweet, tender love together. John even spent the night, which Clay rarely allowed his tricks to do. That night would turn into many nights, as they continued to enjoy each other’s company.
Their relationship began as many gay and straight relationships do, with long talks on the phone, dates on weekends that included hot sex, alcohol and drugs. Heterosexuals and homosexuals are not that different. Eventually, John and Clay became official lovers. John had never gone to the Trocadero or to the Endup because he was into black guys, and they went to the Pendulum, as did John. Clay was into white guys; he hardly ever looked at black men seriously, but that would change with time. Now that they were lovers, Clay’s scene proved more exciting, or maybe John was just being sweet. Clay introduced John to the scene just as Al had introduced it to him, and John loved it too. Early in their relationship, John introduced Clay to his fag-hag friend named Pam. The three of them began to party together every weekend.
Pam was a beautiful black woman who was in her mid-thirties at the time. She lived in a quaint house in the Excelsior district with her husband, a police officer, and their two kids. She was definitely a party animal, but more than that, she was trying to escape the miseries of a troubled marriage, and the gay party life offered her the escape and excitement she craved. Pam worked weekdays as a secretary. When the weekend arrived, like the gays, she was preparing to get the party started. John and Clay were now living together in a cute little apartment near Twin Peaks. On Friday nights, Pam usually came to the apartment at about 10:00 or 11:00pm. Immediately, she would begin chatting about weekly events in her corporate world. or complain about the stupid drama between her and the husband she despised, while flawlessly applying her makeup for a wonderful night out on the town. That meant drugs and dancing at the Troc followed by more drugs and dancing at the Endup, a late lunch or early dinner at Hamburger Mary’s, and sleeping the rest of the day away until Saturday night arrived. On Saturday night, they repeated the same wonderful events until it was time to rest and prepare for Monday morning’s boredom.
The cozy threesome continued this routine for about two and a half years, when the surprising breakup arrived. That’s right. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, whose relationship is? Sex with one individual day after day gets boring after a while, and the great and terrible thing about gay relationships, where there’s no marriage contract or children to worry about, is when the sex gets boring, splitting up is easy.
The truth be told. Clay and John’s relationship was stress free. They paid their bills each month and partied with the rest. He and John shared wonderful amenities together, fine dining, the latest plays, drives to exotic places along the California coast, and of course their nightlife. Still, Clay was torn in his relationship with John. A monogamous relationship was too stifling, especially for those freaky, nasty boys in their mid-twenties, who are always searching for new adventures and conquests. For instance, before returning home from work, Clay would frequent some of his old glory holes and arrive home just in time to prepare dinner. Who knows what John was doing on the side? After Clay left the apartment to begin his 5:00am shift, was John inviting old tricks to the apartment for a secret rendezvous before arriving for his 9:00am shift? Was John still sleeping with his ex? That was a possibility. Still, Clay was quite surprised when John arrived at U-Phone-It Systems and said:
“Clay, there’s something I need to talk to you about?”
“OK,” Clay replied, ill-prepared for the shock he would soon receive.
“We have to break up,” John stated.
“Break up, what do you mean?” replied Clay, as he felt the dagger strike his heart, and the tears begin to well up in his eyes.
“It has nothing to do with you; it’s me,” John continued, having borrowing that stale line from a book or a magazine article he’d read.
John could see Clay was shaken by the news he had just received, but he was adamant about breaking up. The truth is John was just as much of a whore as Clay. He had black dick on the brain. He was young and wanted to experience as many sexual experiences with other black guys as he possibly could. His relationship with Clay was over, and he simply wanted to move on. It was over for Clay too, but he tended to be a little more romantic about the situation. Clay was cheating too; however, he could have continued cheating secretly and living with John too, but John was different.
The breakup completed, Clay returned to work and told Sharon what had happened. Sharon was a great comfort and a true friend. For weeks, perhaps months, Clay had fallen into a state of depression. Soon after the breakup, he and John left the beautiful apartment they shared in the upper Castro. They had recently moved. Clay found a roommate; John disappeared into oblivion. From time to time, they would run into each other at the Troc or at the Endup, and that same, sharp dagger would once again penetrate Clay’s wounded heart. He imagined he and John would someday get back together, but he was simply fooling himself.
Some people say the best way to get over one relationship is to start another relationship. Clay wasn’t ready to begin another relationship, but there were others who would have loved to start a relationship with him. Craig was one of those individuals. Clay met Craig at the Pendulum during the time U-Phone-It Systems was planning to relocate to Reno, NV. The company sponsored trips for all employees interested in relocating. Although Clay wasn’t planning to relocate, he felt a trip to Reno would be right on time, something to help him forget his misery.
Craig really liked Clay and in order to keep him near he offered him a secretary position in his home-based business, which Clay accepted after the relocation had taken place. Craig’s company was called SWEET Systems. Like U-Phone-It Systems, SWEET Systems served hospitals across the country also. More specifically, a small staff of seven would meet at particular destinations and code medical records for contracted hospitals such as Parkland Hospital in Dallas, TX, or Cedar Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles, CA. Not knowing medical coding and billing, Clay completed the data entry portion of the project. His position in the company worked out fine for him, yet Craig wanted more than a secretary. Still pining over John, Clay wasn’t offering anything except work.
When the team returned from being on the road, both Clay and Craig were ready to party. That doesn’t mean they didn’t party while on the road though. Once when the small group was working in Dallas, TX, after work the crew went to one of Dallas’ gay bars. It was a Friday night and the crowd was wild. Clay was sitting at the bar when a really fine white guy approached him and struck up a conversation. To make a long story short, they hooked up. Clay went and told his co-workers he’d been invited over to Jay’s apartment and he would meet them later at the hotel. Nobody thought twice about it; they were all adults. Clay left with Jay and they drove to his apartment complex. Clay wasn’t familiar with Dallas; his dumb ass didn’t know where he was going. They arrived safely at Jay’s apartment and began having sex as soon as they entered the apartment. When the sex was over, Jay simply told Clay to get out of his apartment. Stunned, he left.
Not knowing where he was, Clay asked someone where the nearest service station was located. After arriving at the service station, he phoned for a taxi and arrived safely at the hotel. Embarrassed, he never told anyone about the experience. Lying in his bed that night he realized what a fool he had been. He realized he could have been dead now, lying in a ditch somewhere. That was the last white male he ever looked at sexually.
When they returned from Dallas, Clay and Craig would party together in San Francisco. As Clay had done before, he also introduced Craig to his party scene, and Craig jumped in with both feet. Honestly, Craig was a perfect partner for Clay, but Clay couldn’t get together with Craig because after his breakup with John he had deliberately built a wall around his heart. He decided no one would ever break his heart again. Nonetheless, Craig and Clay had wonderful times together. Clay even met his parents. Once during one of their many vacations, they traveled to France and Italy, and stayed at a fabulous hotel in Nice with a breathtaking view of the Mediterranean Sea. Fortunately, Clay had studied French in high school and could converse with the Frenchmen, even though he didn’t find them very attractive. Being in France was a dream come true.
He found the Italians sexy however. His favorite city was Milan, where he met an attractive Italian doctor who reminded him of Al. He had lustful sex with him in some hotel the horny doctor had acquired for them, while Craig was out shopping. Clay didn’t know whether or not his afternoon delight with the doctor angered Craig or not. He didn’t really care; he was simply enjoying his vacation, and letting Craig know his love was not for sale. What an idiot he was. The truth be told, Clay had not gotten over John, but he would do so eventually, and what a Great Awakening that would be.
All the people Clay had partied with remained in his life, except John and Pam. They came into his life together and they left together. Every weekend, the gang continued to meet at the Troc and the Endup. Eventually, Craig and Clay’s relationship ended. Craig finally met a guy named Kenny from LA; he was really handsome. John knew Kenny also and was very attracted to him, but Kenny only wanted John as a friend. Clay was sure he and John had hooked up before however. Once Craig found his new boy toy, he became a bitchy old queen at work. Clay realized Craig was trying to get rid of him. Clay didn’t really care about Craig’s attitude, but he began to wonder where he would work next.
Don’t get the impression that Clay’s heart was made of stone. He appreciated what Craig had done for him, but he wanted their relationship to remain professional, with moments of serious partying. Clay was smart enough to begin taking classes at City College San Francisco. He was even hoping to transfer to U.C. Berkeley to study French Literature. As his studies became more intense, his relationship with Craig and the gang ended. To support himself while studying, Clay began to work as a security officer at night. He requested work in office buildings because during the nightshift, he could read extensively for a few hours, take a short nap if necessary, and be prepared in the morning for daily classes.
By now Clay had lived in many areas of the city and had come to know San Francisco quite well. He’d had some good and bad roommates. George was his best roommate. He and Clay had become roommates some time after the break up. George was a little younger; he was from Chicago too. George studied ballet at City College San Francisco. On weekends, Clay and George would take acid, go to a club on Haight St., and dance all night long. When they returned they would snuggle together on a pallet on the living room floor of the apartment they shared, but they never had sex. George was in love with a white guy named Christian and would talk about him endlessly. Christian was cute in a scholarly way. George liked that about him.
When George and Christian moved in together, Jerry became Clay’s roommate. Jerry reminded him of a lumberjack. He wore timberland boots, jeans, and a plaid shirt every day. That was his macho uniform; his heart was soft as cotton. Like John, Jerry had black men on the brain, and his greatest desire was to find a steady lover. He would have gotten together with Clay, but Clay wasn’t interested in having a lover. The wall was still intact. He simply wanted a roommate. That was another one of his petty principles, Clay didn’t have sex with roommates either. Actually, Jerry was not Clay’s type at all, but he was fun to hang out with though.
Clay had also had a roommate who was quite old, an old white guy. The old guy, Rick, lived in a gorgeous apartment in the Western Addition, a few blocks away from where Clay and George had lived. Clay thought he had hit the jackpot. However, that old freak was looking for some ass, and was expecting Clay to put out once he moved in. Clay had lived with him for about a month and a half when the old guy informed him he would have to move out. He must have found someone new. Clay couldn’t have cared less.
Next he moved in with another white guy, James, who lived in the outer Mission District. He was also expecting to have sex with Clay, but he was fat and unattractive. There was no way in hell Clay would ever have slept with that slob. To retaliate, that tramp pretended some robbers had broken into the apartment and stole Clay’s stereo, but, of course, nothing else. Having had enough of dumb ass, horny roommates, Clay moved out and found his own apartment. That’s how he finally ended up in the TL.
The TL is an acronym for the Tenderloin Area. It’s a cool little area where many hard working people live. There are many homeless individuals, drug dealers, prostitutes (male, female, and transgendered), whores, ex-cons, and downright pieces of shit people who live there too. It’s an interesting mix and Clay came into contact with all of them. He was one of them. Clay had moved to the TL in 1989 because it was affordable, near all commuter points, and because he was a struggling student. It was during this time that black men turned him out. He got over John too for good, but the wall never came down.
Clay was still a sexually charged individual. He hadn’t completely given up the desire to go to sex clubs on Folsom St., where men stood in crowded bathrooms with their cock in hand, waiting to get sucked off or seeking to penetrate some tight ass. He also continued frequenting X rated bookstores, where dirty young and old men came to bust a nut after work, where male prostitutes sold their wares, shit, where the actions was.
His best friend at the time was Willie. They lived in the same apartment building and did practically everything together. Willie was a “girlfriend”, in gay language, the person with whom one does all his dirt, a confidant of sorts, but not a fuck buddy. Like Sharon, Willie was raised in San Francisco and knew all the hot spots. He introduced Clay to a place called “The Theatre.” The Theatre was well known to most freaks living in the TL. Straights, gays, transgendered, whites, blacks, brown and yellow people congregated there, especially on weekends. It was located at the corner of Jones and Golden Gate. After paying a minimal fee, one passed beyond a curtain that separated the lobby from the actual theater. Directly ahead in the distance was a giant screen, such as those found in any other theater. On each side of the main aisle, there were about ten rows of seats. Men came in to watch the X-rated movies, but periodically perused the joint to see who was doing what, or to see what they could do with whomever. The joint was filled with those prowling for cock and they were hooking up with horny guys wanting their cock sucked. The place smelled of cigarettes, beer, liquor, and marijuana. To the right of the screen, there was a dim yellow light illuminating a stairway. The stairway led to a bathroom with a couple of urinals and a regular toilet, where other horny guys waited to fuck some ass. There was also an area similar to a landing or a porch, where girlfriends talked shit, and guys rolled weed; the brazen ones would suck and fuck right there in the open for all to see. They didn’t care. No one was really surprised or even offended for that matter. It was a sleazy sex club and Clay frequented it often because he also had an insatiable appetite for cock. He didn’t really need another boyfriend to break his heart, especially since sex was so readily available at the theatre.