What Opportunities Might Come

Doug Butler sat at the far end of the hotel's sundeck, enjoying the late morning Fort Lauderdale sun, his closest fellow guest a half dozen tables away. A cold drink in his hand and the vast expanse of the beach and the ocean beyond his only companion. A cool breeze off the Atlantic heralded another day of mild seventy-degree temperatures, far removed from home where, the last he checked, it was fifty degrees cooler with fourteen inches of snow on the ground. Even though he'd been here a week already, it still seemed strange to be wearing shorts and a t-shirt in the middle of February.

The dark haired twenty-five-year-old had badly needed this vacation, more than he had realized when he'd walked into his boss' office two weeks ago to say that if he didn't get away from it all, he was going to explode. Doug had been working around the clock, six days a week, in order to complete last year's performance report, and now that 1982 was finally behind him he'd had enough. It was time to take a step back and catch his breath.

For much of the week he'd done just that, lounging on the veranda or out on the beach, the only exception being the bus trip he'd taken up to Orlando to spend a day at Disneyworld and a more local excursion to Ocean World, where'd he'd made the mistake of sitting in the front rows during the dolphin show and found himself soaked when they came down from a high jump. He never appreciated the warm weather down here more than he did that afternoon.

When he'd first arrived, Doug had been a little disappointed that he'd had to make the trip alone. Kate, the woman he's been dating for the last three months, had insisted that she was too busy to get away right now. The woman worked in a beauty salon for God's sake, how busy could she be? And who in their right mind wouldn't trade eight days of snow and cold for a week in warmth and sun? The answer, he knew, laid in the off-hand comment she'd made during their phone conversation the night before he left - that when he got back, they needed to have a talk as to where their relationship was going. That they couldn't have that talk here in Florida said it all, as far as Doug was concerned. Kate had already made up her mind to move on, and any discussion of the whys and wherefores would be superfluous. The thing was, he considered, his last three relationships had followed a similar pattern. That begged the question, was he just meeting the wrong women, or was it him?

But that was a problem for next week, back in the real world. Now he was actually glad he had come alone, as it gave him plenty of time to just lay back and relax. If Kate had come along, he'd probably would be running himself ragged trying to keep her entertained. And to be completely honest, the rewards of those efforts had, of late, diminished considerably. Their conversations had begun to grow stale, and with the novelty of sex with someone new already gone, what was left had become routine and uninspiring.

'Enough of that,' Doug thought as he dismissed any further consideration of Kate and their deteriorating relationship, taking another sip of his drink as he did. 'What shall I do today?'

The answer to that still eluded him a half hour later when his solitude was interrupted by an older man strolling into the terrace's back area. He didn't even seem to take note of Doug sitting there as he moved right to the railing that divided the paved area from the beach, pausing there for a few long moments to take in the view.

With a slight tilt of his head, Doug lowered his sunglasses to get a better look at the man, if only out of curiosity. Early to mid-fifties, he guessed, standing perhaps no more than an inch or two taller than his own five foot seven. Dressed not dissimilarly to Doug, with a golf shirt and shorts, his outfit displayed a well-maintained build. Not overly muscular, but still fit. The sort of build Doug hoped he might still have when he reached that age.

"Looks like it's going to be another beautiful day," the man said as he turned his attention from the horizon to where Doug was sitting. "The kind of day where you just want to lay back and do a whole lot of nothing."

Now getting a full view of his face, Doug was able to add that the new arrival had a clean shaven, rugged yet handsome face, with short white hair cut in a trim, military style.

"You won't get any argument from me," Doug said, thinking it would've been impolite not to respond, since the man had obviously directed the comment towards him.

"Hank Sheridan," the man said as he came closer, extending his hand.

"Doug Butler," Doug replied as he reached out with his own.

"Nice to meet you, Doug," Hank said as, after shaking hands, he slipped into the empty seat on the other side of the table. "Down here on vacation?"

"Yeah, at least for another few days," Doug replied.

"Here for business myself," Hank said, "but I live up by Tampa Bay, that's about four hours northwest of here on the Gulf side. So, I get to enjoy this sort of weather all year round."

"Lucky you," Doug replied. "I'll be going home to a foot or more of snow on the ground back in New York."

"That where you're from, New York City?" Hank asked, the question having just enough inflection to show he knew there was a difference between the city and the state.

"Brooklyn actually," the younger man clarified, "but I work in Manhattan. New York City is actually five different boroughs, but most people just know Manhattan because that's what they see in movies and on television."

"I know, I've been there a few times," Hank nodded. "It's an interesting place, but not for me. I hate the cold."

"I'm pretty much the opposite," Doug said. "I might complain when it gets too hot or cold, but I really love the change of seasons."

"What kind of work do you do up there, if I might ask?" Hank inquired.

"I'm a sales analyst for an insurance company," Doug replied.

"You like it?" Hank asked.

"I do on payday," Doug laughed. "The other six days, not as much."

"I think that's true for a lot of people," Hank smiled back. "That's why I'm glad I have my own business; no one else gets to tell me what to do or how to do it."

"What do you do?" Doug asked.

"I'm sort of an independent quality control inspector," Hank explained. "Companies, usually those involved in the tourist industry, hire me to evaluate their operations and make recommendations on what works and what needs to be improved."

"Sounds like a real interesting job," Doug said.

"It is," Hank confirmed. "I've got contracts with a dozen resorts all over the state. Some months I spend more time on the road than I do at home."

"Doesn't your family mind?" Doug asked, thinking of the way Kate had complained the past month how he never had time to spend with her.

"No family, just me, myself and I," Hank laughed.

"That sounds like a lonely life," Doug reflectively, then apologized, saying that wasn't for him to say.

"Not really," Hank said, quickly waving off Doug's apology as unnecessary. "I manage to keep myself entertained."

Doug just nodded his head, thankful he hadn't offended the older man.

"How about you," Hank inquired, "are you down here alone?"

""Just me, myself and I," Doug mirrored.

"No one special in your life?" Hank asked.

"Well, I had a girlfriend when I left New York, but I'm willing to bet good money that I'm not going to have one when I get back," Doug answered, adding a quick synopsis of how he and Kate had left things.

For a second, Doug thought he'd gotten a funny sort of vibe off of Hank when he'd mentioned Kate. Then, just as quickly, it passed.

"I'm going to say that I think you're right about that," Hank said, "about how what you're going to find when you go back home, I mean."

"The voice of experience, huh?" Doug laughed.

"Something like that," Hank smiled.

'He's probably had a few Kates in his life,' Doug thought to himself, now chalking up the vibe he'd gotten to that.

Their exchange went back and forth for better than a half hour, covering a varied number of topics. By the time they came to a pause, Doug had decided that he genuinely liked Hank, which wasn't all that surprising because he usually felt more comfortable with older people than he did with people of his own age.

Doug had been greatly impressed when, inquiring about a tattoo on Hank's upper left bicep, the bottom edge of which was visible below the sleeve of his shirt, he learned that the older man had been a United States Marine in World War II. He'd enlisted in 1943, the day after he'd turned eighteen, and had been wounded on Peleliu while serving with the 1st Marine Division.

As Doug finished his drink, Hank took out a small calendar planner from his pocket and, from what Doug could observe, checked his appointments for the day. It was clear to him that as much as Hank had said that he'd like to spend the day doing nothing, he had indeed come to town to handle business.

Hank spent another minute or so checking the list, then closed the book and laid it on the table. He smiled at Doug with the look of a man who'd come to a decision.

"Doug, can I be honest with you?" he asked.

"Certainly," Doug replied, thinking it a strange question to ask.

"When I came over before and introduced myself, that really wasn't just happenstance," he said. "Well, in a way, it was, in that I had no way of knowing that you'd be out here. My original intention, when I walked out here, was just to get a cup of coffee at the refreshment bar and get on with my day. But when I recognized you sitting there, well, I couldn't just walk away without at least finding out your name."

"I don't understand," Doug said, his face reflecting his confusion. "You didn't know my name but you said you recognized me. Should I know you from somewhere?"

Doug looked at the older man, trying to recognize his features, but still coming up empty. He was sure that if he'd met Hank before he would've remembered him. If they had some sort previous connection, he couldn't imagine what it was.

"No, you don't know me," Hank said, "but I know you - well at least I've seen you before."

The look on Doug's face showed him still at a loss as he asked where and when Hank had seen him.

"Wednesday night, at the Man Cave," Hank said, pausing afterward to see Doug's reaction.

His reaction was immediate and evident. "Oh shit," Doug gasped in a tone almost too low to be heard as his face, despite the week he'd spent in the sun, turned pale.

Two nights before, giving in to curiosity and taking advantage of the anonymity that being a thousand miles from home gave, Doug had visited the Man Cave, a small club over in Hollywood, about a twenty-minute cab ride away. He'd come across a flyer for the bar at an adult book store that afternoon, advertising that drinks were two for one on weeknights before nine, which seemed like a good deal. Also, while the flyer didn't come right out and say it, the drawings that illustrated it left little doubt that it catered to a particular sort of men.

"Hey Doug, don't be embarrassed," Hank said after seeing his reaction. "That certainly wasn't my intent in bringing it up."

Nevertheless, Doug still did a quick glance to his right and left to see if anyone had heard. He was relieved to find that there were even more empty tables around him than when he'd first sat down. Most of the other guests had already moved on to start their day.

Hank waited until he had Doug's attention again, then continued.

"Since you've already established that you have a girlfriend back home, even if you're not sure that will be the case when you get back, I'm guessing that you're not gay," Hank said, even though he knew that meant nothing of the sort. He'd known married men who were quite gay. "Are you bisexual?" he asked a breath later.

Rattled as he was, it didn't occur to Doug to simply say, "I'm sorry, you must be mistaken, I've never heard of any such place." Instead, he confirmed Hank's statement by answering the question.

"Not sure," Doug said.

"You're not sure?" Hank repeated, that not having been one of his expected answers. "What does not sure mean?"

When Doug didn't seem to have the answer to the question, Hank decided to offer some possibilities.

"Not sure because you're not sure if you're really attracted to men in that way," he asked, "or not sure because you are but you've never done anything about it before?"

"The second," Doug admitted. "Until the other night, I'd never even been in a bar like that."

"A bar where men look for men to have sex with?" Hank said, wanting to be crystal clear as to what Doug meant.

"Yeah," Doug confirmed, nodding his head at the same time.

Hank again paused. This certainly wasn't what he expected when he'd first approached Doug. Far from someone who might be looking for a play buddy, he'd found a bi-curious virgin who'd take advantage of being a thousand odd miles from home to stick a tentative toe in a forbidden pond.

"Doug, I realize that I've made you uncomfortable, and the last thing I want to do is make you more so," Hank said after collecting his thoughts. "Obviously, when I came over here, I was acting on a false assumption. So, if you'd like me to go, I will. That said, however, I'm hoping you don't, because I think I'd like to get to know you better."

Doug didn't reply right away, taking his own pause to think. Then he turned back to Hank and said he didn't have to go.

"Great," Hank smiled. "So, would it be okay if I asked a few more questions?"

"Sure, why not?" Doug replied, strangely feeling a bit more comfortable with the conversation.

"If I understood you right, you've never done anything with a guy," Hank said. "Does that include the other night at the Man Cave?"

Doug confirmed Hank's further assumption with a nod.

"Okay," he continued, "and was that because you had a change of heart, or because no one was interested?"

"I didn't change my mind," Doug said.

A flash of embarrassment flashed across Doug's face as he recalled how totally dejected he'd felt when he'd left the club shortly before midnight. None of the men he'd approached had been interested in so much as having a drink with him.

"Okay, I just wanted to make that clear in my head," Hank said. "So, when you went back to the hotel, were you disappointed that nothing happened?"

Again, Doug's answer was non-verbal but clear. He had finally found the courage to do something he'd thought about for years and wound up leaving with his tail between his legs. He hadn't been ignored like that since junior high and it had left him dejected.

"Doug, the Man Cave can be a great place to meet someone," Hank explained, "at least on most nights of the week. You went on Wednesday night, which is not one of them, at least not for everyone. On Wednesdays, which is traditionally a low turnout night for most bars, the Cave plays host to the "Friends of Hercules."

"Friends of Hercules?" Doug inquired.

"It's sort of a club for gay bodybuilders," Hank explained. "Didn't it strike you as a little odd that just about every guy there that night was a gym bunny?"

Doug wasn't familiar with the term, but as he thought back to the majority of men that he'd seen at the bar that night, he quickly deduced its meaning. He felt a bit foolish about not having noticed it at the time, but rationalized his omission by the fact that he was nervous enough about just being there.

"So, if no one made a pass at you, or proved receptive to any overture that you might have made, it probably really didn't have anything to do with you," Hank further said. "You might be as cute as hell, but very few of those guys were even going to talk to you if you couldn't bench press twice your body weight - well - in your case, maybe three times."

That wasn't exactly the whole truth but Hank thought it best to keep it simple. He knew a few 'Friends of Hercules' who really got off on guys like Doug, young, cute, with a slim swimmer's build. If he'd run into one of them, chances were good that they'd have had him riding their cock in one of the bathroom stalls before the night was over.

"Then what were you doing there that night?" Doug unexpectedly heard himself ask. Hank was in really good shape, but he certainly wasn't a body builder.

"The owner of the bar and his partner are old friends of mine," Hank explained, having wondered if Doug would ask that. "I'd just stopped by to have a drink and say hello."

Doug's look of disappointment had been replaced by a broad smile. He was uncertain, however, if it was because Hank's explanation as to why he'd struck out so badly had made him feel better, or simply because the older man had said he was cute.

Hank was about to say something else, but was interrupted by a buzzing sound from his belt. As Doug watched, Hank unclipped a small gadget from his belt and lifted it high enough to read what was on its display.

"I thought only doctors use pagers," Doug commented, now recognizing the small device.

"They're becoming more popular in other fields," Hank said as, after reading the number, he clipped it back on his belt. "I've begun to find it indispensable since it allows my clients to always get in touch with me. They say that in a few years everyone will be using them."

"That's all I need, my boss being able to contact me day and night," Doug laughed. "What's next, cordless telephones that you carry around with you like on one of those science fiction programs?"

"That might be a great idea." Hank laughed for a second, then stopped when it was obvious that Doug didn't think so. "But seriously, Doug, as much as I want to continue our conversation, I'm going to have to return that call and I'm pretty sure taking care of it is going to take up the rest of my morning."

"It's okay," Doug said, adding that he was sorry that it had to end as well.

"I'll tell you what, then," Hank said. "If you really mean that, why don't you let me take you out to dinner this evening?"

"You mean like on a date?" Doug asked, wondering how he had made the leap to that.

"I wasn't going to call it that, but yeah, why not?" Hank chuckled. "It'll give us a chance to talk some more and, no pressure, we can see if it goes anywhere. If not, we just have a good meal and leave it at that."

"I think I'd like that," Doug said after considering it for a few moments.

"How about six, that work for you," Hank asked, "and do you like Italian?"

"Yes, to both," Doug replied.

"Great, six it is then," Hank said as he got up from the table. "Meet me in the lobby at six. The restaurant I have in mind is only a few blocks from here so we can walk. It's very casual, so don't dress up too much."

Now standing over him, Hank leaned over in a way that made Doug think for a second that he was going to kiss him goodbye. Instead, he merely placed his open palm on Doug's shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. Then, with another smile, he turned and headed off in search of a phone.

As he watched him walk away, Doug wondered what he would've done if Hank had tried to kiss him, discovering as he did that he was actually slightly disappointed that he hadn't.

Glancing at his watch, Doug wondered what he was going to do in the hours between now and six.

-=-=-=-

Six o'clock found Doug waiting in the lobby. Actually, he had gotten there at a quarter to, so as not to be late. He'd traded his day clothes for a green short sleeved pullover shirt and a pair of black slacks, along with a pair of matching loafers. It had been the third outfit that he'd tried on, having spent as much time getting ready as he had for any other first date.

Every time the elevator bell chimed, he turned in that direction to see if Hank would walk off it. By five minutes after, he was beginning to fear that it might have been the older man who'd had a change of heart. When the second hand on the clock reached ten, he began to worry.