Charles and Wayne met when Charles gave the talk he gave every year: "Going Out on Your Own." Amanda, the director of the Center where he gave the talk, had been a friend of his for well over 25 years. They had met in high school and had kept in touch for all that time. As Amanda would put it "we're old fashioned. We did NOT meet on-line." Amanda had been the first person to notice the drive Charles had: he always got what he wanted, but he had never used any kind of trickery or unethical practices to get it. Out of school, he passed up college and went to work in one of the investment firms in the bigger cities, as he put it, naively "to learn about how to make money." And learn, he did. He started out in real estate, but Charles seemed to have a "sixth sense" about what businesses would do well and which would not. He left real estate just before the bottom fell out of it and took his sizable profits with him. Next were a series of small, completely unrelated businesses: a chain of laundromats, then homes for senior citizen living, and after that, a chain of take-out chicken places across the country. He made each one of them profitable, and then took his profits, and left. He returned home and with the growth of the internet had started a business that dealt primarily with the buying and selling of heavy metal futures. Again, he prospered. It was said that he wasn't the richest man in town: he was the TEN richest men in town.
Charles had always had a flair for "flair," and a stranger, seeing him for the first time, would have assumed immediately that he was a man of means: he always wore a suit, usually a three-piece suit, and his tie stayed in place until 5pm, when that came off and one button on his pristine white shirt would open. He was 6'3", and his height and his thinning hair, plus a physique that had resulted from hours in the gym made him a presence people didn't forget. No one in town ever saw him on the weekends, and the rumor was that he had a country house that he visited, giving parties for wealthy friends.
Yes and no, and after a while, those visits out of town stopped. Charles was gay, and the "pickings" where he lived and worked were rather slim for his taste. He had a thing for young blond men, thin, almost sickly. High fashion models were his favorites. There were none of those to be found in town, so he'd visit NY, or leave early on a Friday and go west to San Francisco, or to Los Angeles, or to any of a set of six or seven cities he had on a list. Charles wasn't looking for a relationship, and he was willing to pay for what he liked. Occasionally, he'd see a boy twice, but usually not. He didn't want anything "messy," as he put it to Amanda, who knew all about his proclivities. That's why she scheduled his talk for Thursdays, every year.
Amanda produced a series of lectures at the Center where she worked, but the lecture that Charles gave was always the most popular one. It had long outgrown the room where they had started, some ten years ago, and now, if you were early and lucky, you got a seat in the room where Charles was actually speaking. If not, you went to one of the three rooms where the closed-circuit television allowed you to watch. Charles didn't take questions during his talk, which lasted for about 90 minutes, but he would stay for another 90 minutes, sometimes longer, to talk to the attendees and to answer questions. That's where he met Wayne.
"Mr. White, apologies for interrupting you, but I want to thank you for the inspiring talk you gave." Charles looked up to see a very handsome man, perhaps in his late 30s or early 40s with a weathered face, icy blue eyes, an excellent haircut, and a small bit of facial hair. Charles generally hated facial hair, but he began thinking that it looked good on this man. As he looked him over, he felt that the man's t-shirt also looked good on him: a sort of mauve heather, which fit him snugly. The man's biceps were evident, and so were his nipples: a particular favorite of Charles'.
"Thank you. I hope that there was something you can use in your future plans."
"Absolutely, Mr. White. I learned more today than I have in the last two years." He held out his hand to shake Charles' and the firm grip made Charles smile.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think I caught your name, Sir," he said, thinking to himself that it was probably only the third time he had used "Sir" with another man since high school.
"Oh, no, MY apologies Mr. White. I'm Wayne Fisher. I'm a yoga teacher and, well," Wayne shifted from foot to foot. "I'm trying to put together capital and a business plan to open my own school. I think it's time. I'm 41." Charles looked at Wayne and smiled.
"Don't think for a minute that you're too old to start, Wayne. It sounds like you've been thinking about this a lot. Have you?"
"Oh, yes Mr. White. I've been investigating leasing versus buying, what regulations I'd have to satisfy, all that stuff." Charles laughed.
"Wayne, you could of course get an attorney to look at that kind of thing for you." He saw a look pass over Wayne's face.
"Yeah, I could. But not without capital, and that's what I'm working on now."
"Well, I'm not an attorney, Wayne, but something you might look at -- and you should be able to do this yourself -- is where you're going to get your clients. "He saw Wayne begin to open his mouth to answer and he held up his hand.
"I know, I know. You have a large client base at the school where you work, but you'd best make sure you didn't sign a non-compete clause that prevents you from soliciting them. They can be nasty." As he spoke, Charles began to wonder "what is it about this man that I find so, well, beguiling? Yes, his chest. Yes, his face. Yes, his muscles. But DAMN, I want to throw him on the floor and fuck him." He got his composure back.
"I'll tell you what, Wayne. Here's my card. It sounds like you have a lot of work to do, but it also sounds like you've done a fair amount. When you think you'll need some more advice, check with me. If nothing else, I can put you in touch with one of my attorneys."
A smile ran over Wayne's face. "THANK YOU, MR WHITE! THANK YOU. "He heard the commotion behind him from other people who wanted to talk. "Oops! I better get going before they stone me. WOW. This was GREAT."
"Cargo pants," Charles thought as Wayne walked back to the man he had come in with: his brother Phil. "No idea what his ass looks like, but I bet it's as hot as the rest of him."
When Wayne got back to Phil, Phil smiled and shook his head. "Well, you seduced another fag, bro."
"Huh? Whaddya mean?"
"Oh, PLEASE Wayne. You weren't oblivious to it, were you?" Wayne paused. "I guess I was. Oblivious to what?"
"He couldn't keep his eyes off your chest. And when you came back, well, you couldn't see it, but he watched every shake of your ass." Wayne laughed. "Well, I wish you wouldn't say `fag,' Phil because he never put a move on me. And he gave me the best advice I've gotten in a long time."
"Yeah, and my handsome brother probably gave him the best hard-on he's had in weeks. Think you wanna take your straight boy boots off and get some private tutoring?"
"STOP THAT! Our talk wasn't like that at all, and he didn't have to do this at all. He gave me his card. I think I'm going to use it."
Wayne hadn't used Charles' card before they next met. Amanda and Charles tried to have dinner together at least once a month. Each one would choose a restaurant and this month, it was Amanda's turn. "We're going to a Bistro place, Charlie," (Amanda could get away with "Charlie." No one else could). "They claim to be French but if they're French, well, I'm 5'8" blond and have a set of knockers that'll take your eye out." (Amanda was 5'5", with brown eyes and she was flat chested). "Still, the food is good, and the staff is not hard to look at.
Charles had joined Amanda at the restaurant and, after greetings and ordering drinks (champagne for Amanda, bourbon on the rocks for Charles), they settled in. Charles saw something out of the corner of his eye and waited until Amanda stopped talking to say "excuse me, love. Just let me check one thing." He turned and saw Wayne in server garb: white button-down shirt, thin black tie, standard restaurant black slacks and shoes. The slacks showed off his ass much more effectively than the cargo pants had. "Up and down a dream," he thought to himself.
"Charlie, you have to order what's on the menu, but I agree with you, Wayne is beautiful." Charles began to blush. "You know him?" Amanda gave a sly smile. "Charlie, you keep your head too buried in your own nonsense. EVERY woman in town knows Wayne. Do you now how hard it is to get into one of his classes?"
"Oh, he's a popular teacher?"
"Most popular one the school has ever had. Gorgeous voice, patient, and sometimes, well... he teaches hot yoga and goes shirtless and..." She began to fan herself.
"AMANDA! MR WHITE! What a surprise! Had I known, I would have had the manager sit you in my section." He held out his hand to Charles. "I didn't know you worked as a server, Wayne" Charles smiled.
"Oh, yes. I come in after I finish teaching for the day. The extra money helps. It's going toward my dream."
"The school, right Wayne?" Amanda smiled. "Darling, it's not a secret. If you weren't so good at what you do, Janine would've fired you months ago. She knows you're going to take most of her clients with you if you go." Wayne blushed.
"Well, that's quite an endorsement, Wayne. Amanda has a very good eye for the way things are, and if she says it, I think you're on your way." Wayne smiled. "Thank you, Mr. White. I truly appreciate your confidence."
"So, Wayne, are you still going to help with the auction next week?" Amanda asked.
"Oh, ha, ha, of course Amanda. You know that's the highlight of my social calendar."
"Oh, dear. Remember Wayne: all work and no play makes Wayne a dull boy. But let's see if we break the record from last year." She paused and smiled. "Will you...?" She didn't finish.
"Planning on it." He looked up. "Oh, damn. I'd rather talk but I see three of my tables in need of attention. Let me get going. Nice to see you again, Mr. White. Amanda, I'll see you at the event."
After Wayne was out of earshot, Amanda purred "Well, well. My Charlie used to like his lamb and veal, but it looks like he's going after mutton now. Not that I blame you." Charles reddened. "I don't know how to explain it, Am. He came to my talk last week and asked a question." He lowered his voice. "I don't think I've ever seen a man as beautiful as he is."
"Well, darling, I'm afraid you'll need to move on. I remember the Kinsey scale, darling. If absolutely straight is a zero, well, Wayne is about a -4." She saw Charles' shoulders sink. "But remember darling, what is it that you told ME once: `even spaghetti's straight until you get it wet." Charles looked at her: "speaking of getting wet," and they both laughed. "Now what is it that the two of you were going on about," Charles asked.
"Yet again, Charlie, you disappoint me by your lack of any interest in what is going on besides your depraved desires and greed. There's a fundraiser for the Center in a week, and the big event is the date auction: we always ask a handful of the most desirable men and women in town if they'd be willing to auction off a date to benefit the Center. Wayne always agrees." She dropped her voice. "Last year, no one knew he was doing it, but he wore a rip away t-shirt, and tore it off during the bidding. Oh, dear, I think at least three ladies had a case of the vapors and the top bid was 500.00. The most we've ever gotten by far."
"Well, we won't discuss why you have never asked ME to participate, my dear, and of course, that fact will not impact my annual check; however, this sounds like quite the happening. Maybe I'll come to watch." Amanda gave Charles a look. "You've got the `I'll bring my checkbook' look in your eyes, Charlie. Remember what I told you: he's straight."
It didn't surprise Charles that the date auction was the last item on the evening's agenda. Amanda knew what she was doing. He hadn't seen Wayne the entire evening: maybe she was keeping the "bidding lots" backstage.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Thank you for your attendance tonight. Your gifts, your support, it all matters for our little corner of the world. "After the applause ended, she continued. "Now, let's get to the part of the show that you're all waiting for DATE NIGHT. If my auctionees could come out." There was a wave of applause as six men and six women came out from the wings. "Just like the minotaur's maze," Charles muttered to himself, before he observed that there were more hot guys in this town than he thought. He saw Wayne among them: he was wearing shades, and a tight fitting, silk short sleeve shirt. "Oh dear, I hope he doesn't rip off that one" Charles thought to himself. He could never forget what things cost and that was an expensive shirt. As the bidding went on, he saw what Wayne's plan was: he was clearly the last man to be auctioned, and as each of the other men came up for the auctioneer's hammer, he opened a button on his shirt. There was only one left closed when it was his turn and then... when he opened it, smiled, and put his hands behind his back, the screaming almost deafened Charles.
"CALM DOWN EVERYONE CALM DOWN" Amanda was on stage, smiling. "We can't proceed until there's quiet. "After the crowd calmed down, the auctioneer began. "OK, Ladies and Gentlemen. Can I have a bid for our yoga teacher, Wayne Fisher."
"ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS!" Charles called out. There was a shocked silence as people turned to see who had made that outrageous bid. Was that a MAN'S voice? Who had a grand to spend, even on a dish like Wayne? Even Amanda, who expected something like this, was shocked. So was Wayne. He had taken off his shades and when Charles saw the look in his face he smiled.
"WOW. Quite an opener. Anyone want to top that?" There was murmuring amongst the attendees but no bids. "GOING ONCE, GOING TWICE. GOING THREE TIMES. "The auctioneer brought down his hammer. "A NEW RECORD! Wayne, go meet your date." In shock, Wayne headed to Charles.
"Mr White, what the..."
"For heaven's sake, Wayne, button your shirt. It's not that warm in here and in any event, it's inappropriate."
"I'll unbutton my shirt if I want to, thank you very much. You bought a date, not me."
"Fair point, Wayne. But if you unbutton your shirt, I'm going to unbutton mine."
"NO, WAIT. OK. OK. Now, Mr. White, can I ask why you just did that?"
"You can ask, Wayne, you just won't get an answer. What you WILL get, if you want it, is a coffee on me, as long as we understand that I did NOT spend a grand to have coffee with you."
Wayne sputtered. "Well, sure, but."
"Let's go. We need to sit and talk."
They were in a café' not far from the Center. At least half a dozen set of eyes stared at Wayne at some point. "Now, Mr. White, you DO know I'm straight, don't you?"
"That's what they tell me, Wayne. You DO know I'm gay, don't you?" It wasn't hard for Charles to banter with Wayne: he was better at it, and he knew it. And he had Wayne off balance.
"You know, the terms of this auction are that the dates aren't supposed to be sexual and, none of us have to do anything we don't want to do." Charles shrugged his shoulders. "All I did was ask you to have coffee with me." "No. You TOLD me to have coffee with you." "Yeah, I guess I did, didn't I? How's it feel to be around someone more alpha than you are, Wayne?" Charles wanted to laugh as Wayne sputtered. Charles had his number. "All I was going to do tonight was see if we could set up a date for having dinner. That's all. You DO eat, don't you?" Wayne gave him a look. "Are you SURE it's only dinner, Charles?" "OK, that's alright for now," Charles thought to himself. "That's all I'm asking you to commit to, Wayne. Just dinner. Something that fits into your schedule." "I need to call you. I don't get my schedule until tomorrow." "Well, that's fine, Wayne. You have my card. Just call whenever you want. "He grinned. "But make sure you do. You don't want me to tell Amanda you're not an honorable man." He finished his double espresso. "Do you need a ride home, Wayne?" "Uh, no. I'm fine. My car is right near the Center." "Mind if I walk you back?" Wayne paused for a minute. "If it's all the same." Charles smiled. "You give me a call when you're ready Wayne. And just remember: you don't become gay by having dinner with a gay guy." "Charles White speaking," Charles didn't recognize the number, but he had an idea. "Hi, it's Wayne." Charles smiled. He had enough experience and he had read Wayne well enough to know: he wasn't sure: Charles or Mr. White? He liked knowing that Wayne was off-balance (he had no idea HOW off-balance the coffee date had made Wayne, though). Ah, Wayne, that was prompt. Have you a date in mind?
"Yes Sir, I do." Another smile from Charles. Was it the tone in his voice that had provoked it? "How is Sunday night for you? It's the only night I have off until next weekend, and I hate to give up shifts." "Sunday is perfect. Do you know the restaurant `La Terazza?'" "I've heard of it, but I've never been there. To be honest, it's above my pay grade." "Well, I'm inviting YOU, so let's not worry about that. I can pick you up if you'd like." There was a pause and then, much to Charles' pleasure and surprise, Wayne answered "Yes, Sir. I think I'd like that." "Good. Now, unless you're afraid of my knowing where you live because I might send gay male to you, perhaps I can have your address." "Look, Charles, I need to apologize for anything I said. I mean, my family's real conservative and my brother's been ribbing me since that night we went to hear you speak." "OH, was your brother sitting next to you? Good to know. HE'S the one I'm REALLY interested in." Charles waited to let that sink in and undermine Wayne just a little more. "I'm JUST TEASING, Wayne. You know, for such a handsome alpha man, you're really a little insecure, aren't you?" Now, Wayne paused. "Yes, I am, Sir." "Hmmm. Put that on the agenda for dinner conversation." Charles was playing a hunch: Wayne may very well have been a "-3 on the Kinsey Scale" as Amanda put it, but there was room to see what would happen if he got the spaghetti wet. "Something to talk about. Besides your business plans. Now, you probably know that I always wear a suit, but I won't be wearing a tie. It's Sunday. You should feel comfortable dressing anyway you like, as long as you promise to keep your shirt buttoned." Now it was Wayne's turn "During dinner for sure." "HA, HA. Touche' Wayne, touche'. Until Sunday then."
"He cleans up good," Charles thought when Wayne came to his car. He had on a blue blazer, a pair of slacks that looked like they were his "dress-up" pants, and a nicer white shirt than the one he wore while waiting tables. He also had opened two buttons, and just a bit of his blondish red hair stuck out. Charles smiled. He continued his teasing: "people are gonna think I'm the luckiest man in the restaurant." Wayne didn't miss a beat. "Well, you will be." Charles had to laugh at that. "It's about a 20-minute drive to the restaurant, so, off we go." "Charles, can I ask you what you did to become so successful? I mean, you're not that much older than I am, at least from what I could tell from the internet, and you've `made it' and I'm still working for someone else." "Well, so am I, Wayne. You know there's a song that says "you're gonna have to serve somebody." I'm serving my clients all the time." "I mean, I guess, something else. That building you live in? It's fucking gorgeous." He paused. "Sorry, I shouldn't swear. I forgot I wasn't a fisherman anymore." "Of course you should swear. A fisherman too? Wayne Fisher the Fisherman. Really? You pulling my leg, handsome?" From the corner of his eye, he saw Wayne blush. "Oh yes. My family were all fishermen and women. I worked on the boats until I got out of school. Then, I tried teaching grammar school, tried acting, tried a few things. I guess yoga found me." "Well, then you know where you need to go. I guess that something you should think about, is how far you're willing to go to get that yoga school, or whatever else you want." "People tell me that, and I never quite understand what it means." "Well, let's say this, Wayne. Suppose someone offered you a school of your own, but in return, she wanted a kidney for her daughter. What would you do? Don't answer me, but that's the kind of extreme choice you have to give yourself. If the choice were, I don't know, convincing your brother to marry a woman he didn't like? You know, these are all TV plot scenarios, but they came from somewhere. "Charles sighed for a minute. Then he took a gamble and patted Wayne's thigh. Wayne didn't move, but Charles moved his hand right away. "We don't know each other very well, but maybe in the future, I'll tell you some of the things I did to get what I wanted. I don't regret one of them. But look, it's right ahead. Let me focus on parking. Usually my driver does this for me." When they got out of the car and headed to the restaurant, Wayne felt Charles' hand on the small of his back. "I do that when I take out a woman," he thought to himself and then sighed "Oh well, I guess tonight I sort of..." Charles filled Wayne's wine glass a few times that night. Wayne could hold his alcohol, but he was more vocal, and laughed more than he had in a long time. He had felt proud when Charles turned the wine list over to him and said "you're in the biz. You pick." And the meal had been excellent. As they were leaving, Wayne joked "I hope it was worth 1000 dollars, Sir." "It was worth every penny. Shall we leave? I'll drive you back." "Maybe a walk first, Sir?" "Well, if that's what you want to do." "I just wonder if I could ask you a personal question when we walk. I'm embarrassed, but I'm curious. How did you know you were gay?" Charles laughed. "Well, there was this guy, just a bit older than I was, and he invited me to dinner, and he flirted with me through the whole dinner and then he kissed me before he took me home and the rest is history." Wayne stopped walking. "Are you making fun of me?" "NOOOOOOOOOOOO. I WAS trying to have some fun with you, Wayne, but no, I wasn't making fun of you. Just yanking your chain." "Sounds hot," was Wayne's answer and Charles looked at him. "You know, if you keep flirting with me like that, I AM gonna kiss you before I take you home. " "Promise?" Wayne asked, and he stared into Charles' eyes. Charles stiffened, and he moved forward. He put his arms around Wayne and pressed his lips against his. Wayne whispered, "I thought you gay guys had a secret kiss." "Open your mouth and I'll teach it to you." Wayne did. Charles' hands moved down to Wayne's butt and massaged his cheeks. He felt them tighten, and then relax. Wayne wasn't letting go of the kiss. Finally, Charles needed to come up for a breath. "I have a feeling you haven't been kissed very often, Wayne. For ALL the stories I hear about you." Wayne turned away, and Charles grabbed his hand. "Tonight was a lot for you. If you thought I was going to ask you to come back with me and spend the night, you're wrong. But what I am going to ask is if we could have a second date where it doesn't cost me a grand just to get my tongue in your mouth." "I think I'd like that, Sir." "Wayne, why are you calling me Sir?" Wayne shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it just felt... right." Charles smiled. "Let's get you home." There was another kiss when he left Wayne at his place: this one was much more chaste than the one outside the restaurant. When Charles got home, he called Amanda. He got her answering machine and left this message: "Hey girly girl. Mr. White here. Just wanted you to know that the spaghetti got a little wet tonight. More later. Ciao."