My Straight Neighbor Ronnie

One day, I saw a figure go by the frosted glass in my bathroom window, and knew that someone was heading for my front door.

I opened it and there stood a man of slight stature, though wiry and sun-browned. His hair was pulled back into a pony tail. He had on a worn, sleeveless white tee shirt.

I liked Ronnie from the start. He'd moved with his small family into the trailer across the street from me.

His hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, he looked off over the fields beyond. When he turned toward me, his green eyes were searching and confident, and unafraid.

"Hey. Name's Ronnie." he said offering his hand.

"Jim... I'm Jim." I said, nervously.

His hand was warm and strong. It was a hand that knew work.

"Pleasure." Ronnie said, "Just moved in, as I'm sure you noticed."

"Well, welcome!" I said. "It's quiet hereabouts. I hope you'll like it, you and your family."

"One that's about to get bigger." Ronnie said.

"Sorry? Bigger...?"

"My family. Maddy's with child now. Figurin' on first week of December." he said.

"Ah! Congratulations! Does that make... what, four of you?"

"Yeah." Ronnie said, turning so that the afternoon sun caught the side of his face. His beard was soft and wispy, and blew gently in the transient gusts.

"Yeah. There's me, Maddy, Olive, and the new one." Ronnie said.

"Nice, nice." I said, feeling at a loss for further words.

"Oh! Reason I stopped by, well, besides for meeting you, is I'm gonna be making a bit of noise on my place momentarily." he said, gesturing with a flip of his head toward the property.

"Takin' down a tree."

"Well, saw away. I won't be bothered. But thanks for letting me know." I said.

Ronnie lowered his elbows onto the deck railing, and looked out over the fields.

"Lots of space back here. That's nice." Ronnie said, squinting into the sun.

"That's all land owned by Dan Crebbs. He farms it." I said, feeling again, as I did, an appreciation for the open space.

"You got a family?" Ronnie said, still scanning the treeline in the distance. It was a question that never failed to trouble me. When you're single, never married, living a solitary life, people will sometimes make assumptions. I needed to be careful.

"Nah. Not now, at least." I said, trying to sound casual. "I had a girl before I moved here." I said, wishing Ronnie would take the bait. He did.

"Where you from?" Ronnie said, turning toward me and resting his back on the railing.

I suddenly realized I'd been standing in the doorway holding the door open the whole time. I stepped out onto the decking.

"Oakland... Bay Area."

"Right across from San Francisco, isn't it?" Ronnie said.

Actually, I had lived in the Castro District of San Francisco for nearly eight years. I don't think I've ever been to Oakland.

"They've got a lot of gays in that city. I mean a bunch!" Ronnie said, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Yes, San Francisco is known for that. Oakland is a more normal city." I said, laughing inwardly and bitterly at my hypocrisy. As we stood there, I took in what I could of Ronnie. And it was a pleasure to do so. Partly, it was his nonchalance, his carefree way of draping himself against the deck railing, for instance. And then, I was struck by the outdoorsy aura he conveyed. I had the sense he knew a good bit more besides what side of the tree the moss grows on. All-in-all, a straight shooting, confident, masculine country man.

The sawing did go on for more than an hour, so I was relieved when it stopped. I heard something and looked up from my crossword. Was it a voice? Then, more distinctly:

"Ah, shit! Goddamn fuckin'...."

It was Ronnie. When I got to the road, I saw him bent over and clutching his hand to his chest. I ran toward him.

"You okay? What happened." I asked, noting the stupidity of at least the firsy part of my query.

Ronnie was still grimacing and holding his hand close to him. "Let me see." I said.

Ronnie slowly uncurled his fingers. There was a gash going from the base of the thumb, across the wrist. Blood was oozing out of it pretty good, but I could see it was containable.

"Shit!" Ronnie said, examining the wound.

"Hey, Jim, could I doctor this up at your place? I don't want Maddie seeing this, her being in a delicate way."

"Sure, sure... Come on. I've got all kinds of first aid stuff."

Ronnie sat at the kitchen table clutching a wad of paper towels to his hand as I rounded up gauze bandages, peroxide, and antibacterial ointment. Laying these out on the table, I fetched a wash basin, and placed it at Ronnie's feet. I doused the wound with the peroxide, letting the excess fall into the basin.

While I worked, I could smell Ronnie's body scent which, though it hinted at several days of not showering, I found strangely appealing. His feet were spread to either side of the basin, and I squatted between them treating the wound.

"I sure appreciate this." Ronnie said, his breath catching as the peroxide fizzed in the cut.

As I worked, I noticed Ronnie looking about the room.

"Got a nice place here, Jim." he said, taking in the orderly kitchen. I am an avid cook, and have all kinds of culinary equipment. Copper pots hung from hooks along the wall. The stove was a commercial grade Montague I bought used.

"Looks like you could be a chef, or something." he said as I taped the bandage firmly in place. I realized that I had been holding the rough, brown hand gently in mine all the time. When I finished, I took a moment to turn the hand round in both of mine to inspect the work. I was doing that, but also enjoying the feel of the warm, masculine hand. It had been a while since i'd been so close to someone.

"Oh, I've worked as a cook. It's a passion of mine." I said, releasing the hand and standing. I had, in fact, put in a few years behind stoves in a few restaurants. But most of my working life had been spent as a waiter, a not uncommon occupation for a gay man.

"We do a lot in a slow cooker. You got one of those?" Ronnie said.

"I do, yes." I said. "They're great. just turn it on and come back in six hours." I said, laughing. Almost at once I worried that I was making sport of a process that required no skill at all, and possibly offending him.

"That's the beauty of it." Ronnie said, and I felt relieved.

Ronnie rose from his seat and felt his injured hand with the other.

"How's that feel?" I said.

"Not good as new, but pretty darn good. I guess you might have been a nurse at one time, too!" he exclaimed, flashing an appreciative smile.

"Hey, how about a beer?" I said. "It'll do you some good. Nurse's orders." I said laughing.

Thankfully, he accepted. I had been living in the trailer for four months by then, and, truth be told, Ronnie was my first 'guest'.

"Hell, why not. Won't be getting back to that tree anytime today." he said.

I invited Ronnie to sit in the leather recliner in the living room, and I rounded up the beers.

I placed an icy Sam Adams onto the coaster beside him, and took a seat on the couch. Ronnie took a long pull on the beer, leaned back, and sighed.

"Man, I could fall asleep in this thing." he said, stroking the supple arms of the chair. My eyes followed the path of his hands.

"I do that on a regular basis." I said, continuing to discreetly watch. I put my feet up on the couch and leaned into the corner of it.

"Won't your wife be wondering about you?" I asked, feeling a kind of pleasure in referencing his marital status. I could tell he was a man who would never be wanting for a woman beside him in his bed.

"Maddy? She probably thinks I wandered off somewhere."

He held up the afflicted limb, examining it.

"Sure glad you were here to help, friend. Maddy's a strong woman, but her being with child makes her real sensitive, you know, and who knows how she could've reacted."

"Yes", I said, "I've heard that can be the case... being more emotional, I mean."

I suppose I had heard that somewhere, but I just wanted to keep the conversation going.

Ronnie emptied the beer and set the bottle down.

"Fact is, she's sort of turned inward. I guess, like any other guy, I don't have a notion what motherhood is about, what it feels like. I do know that when we go to bed at night, she just wants to curl up and sleep. Bit frustrating, if you know what I mean." he said, giving me a raised eyebrow and a resigned look.

"Sure, sure I do." I said, imagining him lying beside his wife with a throbbing erection while she slumbered away. Immediately, I wrenched my thoughts elsewhere, and the sudden arousal I'd felt began to ebb.

"Have another?" I said.

"If you are." Ronnie said, working the lever of the chair and tilting back. I was off to the kitchen at once, and rounded up two more. I returned to find Ronnie elevating his arm.

"Son of a bitch is hurting. If I don't hold it up, it throbs awful." he said, wincing.

I went to a cabinet and dug out a bottle of 12 year old bourbon from the back of it.

"This could help." I suggested, and waited for Ronnie's response. He looked at the label appreciatively.

"Couldn't hurt, partner. sure couldn't hurt." he said.

I brought two glasses and gave each a generous three-finger pour. Before I sat down again, we clinked glasses.

"Here's to the healing process." I said, taking a good swig. Ronnie sipped on his.

"Smooth as cornsilk. Good stuff, Jim!" Ronnie exclaimed, then leaned back contentedly on the headrest.

"Maddy don't like me drinking the hard stuff. Her old man was a drunk, and she's got memories she'd rather not have. No matter to me, really. But I do like a good whiskey whenever I can fit it in."

"Well, you're always welcome to join me in a glass here." I said.

Ronnie gave me an inquiring look when I said this.

"So, you did some cooking there in... where was it, Oakland?" he said.

Here I was, I thought, a man in his sixties - still in good shape, mind you! - and still ducking the matter of my sexuality. Where was that going to end?

"Actually, Ronnie, I did do some, cooking. Mostly though, I was a waiter. That's where the money is." I said, knowing that the 'money' reasoning was only half the story. The other part was that it was a comfortable occupation for a homosexual man. Gay waiters were a culture in themselves, and found support as well as insulation from derision and belittlement.

Ronnie still had that curious look in his eye, though it seemed in no way unfriendly.

"Hell, I'm not sure I could pull that off. I'd be dumping stuff into peoples' laps. And if someone gave me any guff, I'd be fired on the spot for what I had to say to them." he laughed.

I figured, why not be a bit more open with Ronnie. He probably had never exchanged more than two words with a gay man in his life, but he seemed kind and not judgemental.

"The restaurant I worked at was in a hotel in San Francisco. Like I said, it was a good-paying job; benefits, and all that. I was there for eighteen years."

I waited for that to sink in a bit.

"So, I reckon you would've come across some gays there. Some gay waiters, I mean. I just hear, you know, especially in Frisco, there are lots of 'em there."

"Sure, sure." I said, feeling more sneaky and cowardly by the minute. "Sure, they were there."

"Well, all men got to make a living. Guess the waiting trade is what suits them."

"It suited me." I said, then waited to see if he picked up on that.

"I got nothing against any man that tells the truth and does his work best he can, gay or not gay." Ronnie said, and a wave of relief washed over me. It seemed I had found a friend who was secure enough in his own self to not judge or hate me.

"Nope. Got nothin' against it. Mind you, I got no inclination..."

"No." I said. "No, I could tell that you didn't." I said hurriedly.

"Another bourbon?" I asked nervously. It wouldn't have surprised me if he had - albeit graciously - declined and headed back home.

Ronnie looked into his empty glass.

"Well, I can't have you twisting my arm what with the condition it's in..." he said, and gave me a smile that I have cherished ever since.

"Coming right up, my friend." I said, feeling almost misty-eyed at his calm, accepting nature. And, I was feeling good to have 'come out' to him. A small success, but an important one.

We were halfway into our second whiskeys, just chatting, when Ronnie turned the conversation back to his wife Maddy

and the child that was due in about six weeks.

"Same as when she was carrying Olive." he said, "Gets kind of dreamy and far off at times. And, like I referenced before, not one bit interested in me as man. Shit, not for the last two months!" he said, frustration clear in his expression.

He squirmed a bit in the recliner, and I wondered if even touching on the topic had aroused him. I stole a quick glance at his crotch while he was raising his glass, and did, in fact, see the contours of what seemed to be a semi-erect penis pressing against his worn denim pants.

"Ah, hell, what can you do?" he sighed.

Say, Jim, can I use your phone for a second? I want to give her a ring. She might be worrying by now."

"Sure, sure." I said, and went to get my cell from the bedroom, feeling a sense of anticipation, of possibility. As I was new to the area, I really hadn't made any contacts, any friends, since I'd arrived. Given that, I had had no opportunity to pursue my very favorite pass-time: sucking cocks. I unplugged the phone from the charger, cautioning myself not to get my hopes up. Still, Ronnie was such a fine specimen of a self-assured, "real" man, that I couldn't help but salivate, albeit internally. I've always had a special place in my heart for straight men.

"Here you go." I said, handing him the phone. While he punched in the number, I topped off his glass.

"Thank you, sir." he said, holding the phone to his ear.

"Maddy... how are you darlin'? ..... No, no, just dropped by at a neighbor's.... Yeah, well sure, I'll be back by then... Ribs? you know I'm ready for that. Yes, ma'am! Okay, then... okay, see you then."

"You got a clock or a watch somewhere? I never liked wearing one, myself."

"You can see the time on the phone." I said.

"Damned if you can't." Ronnie said. "I keep forgetting that. Technology pretty much left me behind, I reckon."

"I think people rely on it too much, myself." I said. "Too much staring at screens."

"People do seem glued to 'em." Ronnie said, tipping the remainder of the bourbon into his mouth.

"Well, Jim, I got two hours of unscheduled time on my hands. I gotta say, I'm enjoying your company, and that aint just the liquor talking. Any time liquor starts talking, I just tell it to shut up." he said, and we both laughed.

"Well, I'm glad for your company, Ronnie." I said. "I mean, I've been moved in here four months now, and you're my first guest. So, thank you." I said, feeling that the emotion in my voice was betraying my hidden feelings for him. In fact, it seemed to have done just that.

Ronnie nestled himself deeper into the chair and, no kidding, gave me a wink! Was it just a friendly gesture on his part?

"I gotta get me a chair like this." he said, interlacing his fingers. "Like riding on a cloud."

"I know this might not be proper, and all," he said, "but would you mind if I kicked off my shoes? Maddy would be giving me a look if she was here." he said, chuckling.

"Absolutely!" I said, with perhaps too much enthusiasm. Truly, any articles of clothing Ronnie wanted to shed was fine with me. He started to work the lever so that he could sit upright.

"Hey, let me do that for you." I said. "It won't be easy for you with your hand like that." I said, relishing the obvious sense this made.

"Heck... I mean, if it's okay with you. I mean I hardly know you." he said, tongue in cheek.

"No biggie." I said, and was on the floor beside his chair in a flash.

"Don't worry. I got clean socks on." he said as I began to unlace his shoes. They were well-worn low-cut hiking shoes. I slid one then the other off his feet, arranging the shoes neatly on the floor. Ronnie wriggled his toes.

"Ah, that feels nice." he said.

"Socks, too?" I suggested.

"Why go halfway?" Ronnie said, and looked on as I gently pulled off the socks. His feet smelled, well, like feet, but not at all unpleasantly. There was some lint stuck to the toes of one of them, and I reflexively brushed off.

"That feels nice, too." Ronnie said, and when I looked up at him above me in the chair, he winked at me again.

"Maddy gives me a foot rub now and then. Not much lately, though." he said.

I took a deep breath. This had all the markings of a green light. Was I bold enough to follow up on it? I was. Sitting back on my heels, I took Ronnie's foot in my hands, and began to knead the sole.

"Shit, Jim. You should be charging me for all the nice things you're doing for me." he said as I moved over his foot which was calloused on the soles, but otherwise smooth and warm.

I was no rookie when it came to foot rubs, and I gave Ronnie everything in my arsenal and with the greatest care - even affection. I moved over to the other side of the chair, and went to work there, too. Ronnie groaned appreciatively. I finished off with a friction rub. Then (and with a wildly beating heart), planted a kiss on the soft skin of the arch.

"Atta boy, Jim. Maddy would do that too, you know." he said. "It always got me goin' a bit, if you know what I mean."

I knew exactly what he was saying, and, so, ventured a kiss onto the arch of his other foot. By this time, I had a full-on hard-on in my pants, and I was one very happy queer boy!

"Nice, Jim. Very nice. You got a real nice touch, you know?" Ronnie said encouragingly.

"i've always enjoyed pleasing a man in this way, Ronnie." I said. "Really, I'm honored to do it."

I continued to stroke and kiss Ronnie's feet. I felt flushed and very aroused. I blew gently on his toes and licked between each one. Ronnie laid his head back and sighed. When I got to his big toe, I took it into my mouth and began to suck it. I was in heaven. I looked up to see Ronnie with his hand on his thigh. Beside his hand a truly lovely and impressive bulge showed through his jeans. With his toe still in the warm confines of my mouth, I looked into his eyes.

"Damn, if you aint turnin' me on, Jim." he said.

His hand moved onto the bulge, and stroked it.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself." was the best I could come up with. I continued to suckle his toes, going from one to another, and while I did I watched as he stroked and rubbed his cock through his pants.

I lowered the foot onto the footrest.

"Ronnie, " I said, anxiety rising in me, "I'd be happy to give you some relief... you know... help you out." I said, stumbling over my words.

"I... I could help..." I stammered.

"Well, that's a very kind offer, Jim." he said. "That's very sweet of you."

"I enjoy being sweet to a man like you, Ronnie." I said.

"Well, then. Let's see some of that sweetness. How about it?" he said.

He began to unbuckle his belt, and I looked on transfixed as his hard, brown hands loosened the belt, then unsnapped the pants at the waist. Raising his butt slightly, he pushed the pants down so that they were below his knees. I looked hungrily at his smooth, lean thighs, then my gaze moved up to what was now a very active swelling in his briefs. I sat speechless as his cock pressed insistently against the cloth.

"Why don't you rest your head up here?" Ronnie said, indicating his groin. "You and me get to know each other."

Of course, I was there at once, resting my face on his warm thigh, and continuing to watch the slow movements of the penis. Close as I was, I could smell the odor of his crotch, and it was wonderful. I gave his leg a kiss and sighed.