"Isn't it wild you'll fly 1,000 plus miles to talk Hot Wheels," Terry asked me.
"And Swedish meatballs," Albert added as we were FaceTiming.
The duo became good friends of mine via Growlr. Six months into the friendship, we were talking about me visiting them in their home state of Minnesota.
"Come here and we could do a project," Terry said as the two retired polar bears, turned into turned erotica writers.
It all started when I caught Terry on a stream one morning, and struck up conversation, tuning out the other guys who were verbally pawing at him to earn a message from him outside of the stream. He confirmed he wanted to discuss stories we'd written, so we exchanged works, and forged a bond in return.
"When we finally get you out here, I promise you won't regret it," Terry told me afterwhile.
The day came for me to travel, and I'd endure two flights coming and going, with my first leg being a short one out of Norfolk, landing in Newark for a three hour layover prior to a connection to Duluth. I slept like a rug on the second leg for I couldn't rest the night before, as I was ramped with excitement to meet this older, bear couple with so much beauty and wisdom between them. I woke when we touched down, looking out of the plane to be greeted with snow on the ground.
"You here yet,"Terry texted as we taxiied to the gate, and subsequently deplaning expeditiously.
45 minutes barely passed when Terry caught me at baggage claim, and hugged me.
"Damn son, you look good enough to eat," said the 67-year-old. "How was your flight?"
Everything about Terry gave me goosebumps from his six foot two bear frame, to his beautifully crafted gray hair and beard combo, to the light eyes, and the booming, Midwestern accent. He took my bag purposely as we walked towards the exit to get to his vehicle, and I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, just to feel that beard, and taste his thick tongue for a quick moment. I wasn't supposed to feel this way since Terry advised long before that he wasn't attracted to me sexually, but I couldn't help being attracted to him.
"We're headed back to the house, but first we have to make a stop to grab the hubby," he told me. "Welcome to Minnesota, babe!"
He saying it like that made me feel welcome, and I was able to temporarily erase sex from my mind to enjoy the moment. He gave me an impromptu, succinct tour of Duluth as I saw this magnificent bridge crossing the infamous Lake Superior, and we'd breeze past a nice overlook dubbed Canal Park, which edged the same body of water. We'd ride for maybe 15 minutes while he gave a brief history lesson, with him stopping at a large high school structure that resembled something perhaps in England with its large tower, and just a classical architectural stance.
"Car show," I asked.
"You got it," he said, as I looked around the parking lot at all the different wheels.
There were maybe 30 to 40 classical cars draped in the wettest looking paint, some showing off muscle guts with the hood gone, along with the specially crafted wheels and tires. I was in awe of what I saw, and the fact these people were undaunted by the snow to still hold such an exhibition on a 30 degree day. We made our way around as Terry seemed well known to many other polar bears, just shaking hands, hugging, and even kissing some that mimicked his look, even carying the same accent. I was secretly salivating at each one, contemplating being in bed individually or collectively.
"Oh, so you weren't fibbing," said Albert as he approached us from behind, causing me to snap out of it.
"Welcome to our humble home, young man."
Albert was maybe the same stature as Terry, but without glasses and wearing a skull cap to cover his thick hair. He hugged me, then held and gripped my hands tight after as he smiled from ear to ear. I'd see these two side by side and was ready to melt, and tried to keep my boner down as I would stare and make my mind wander. We chatted with Bill and Ray, a bear couple they befriended who owned a white grape colored 1970 Chevy Chevelle they were standing beside.
"My car from high school," said a fluffy Billy. "Me and Ray took the time to restore it over the years, and now she rides better than before."
The handsome duo were chatterboxes of which Terry was trying to break us from. Albert however would drop a hint he was ready to leave, and so we all hugged, and he'd lead me and Terry back to their Jeep so we could dart back to their home.
"Being you're from the Mid-Atlantic, I figured you'd be a fan of seafood," Albert explained as he drove.
"I am," I told him before he reeled off a menu of what they prepared.
"I've got smoked salmon in the smoker outside, some imported clam chowder from Seattle, and some good vegetables to down with the goods," he said.
My region wasn't known for either, but I liked them both, just expected Swedish meatballs Albert promised before the trip.
"The meatballs, I'll make the last night you're here," he told me as if he read my mind.
We parked in their driveway, then exited the vehicle with Terry insisting he grab my bag. We walked inside their beautiful, cozy home hosting photos of themselves, other friends, family on the walls, and a scent of a cinnamon candle that lit up the living room. We took our shoes off at the door and were greeted by Bolt, a small, black pomeranian, that was friendly to greet me by pawing my left leg.
"Let me take him outside, then you two can get acquainted," Terry said.
Albert would sit beside me on the couch to interview.
