“Mee-ooowww!” he exclaimed loudly. IE:  Get your lazy ass out of bed and fix my breakfast.... right now!!

Loud, demanding fucker is what Ennis thought, but he didn’t say it – it certainly wouldn’t change a thing. Samson, the huge, chocolate point Siamese who lived in his house, had somehow managed to get the upper hand early on in their relationship, and he’d never backed down for one minute in the three years he’d lived there. Ennis pushed himself up into a sitting position, exchanged a wistful, sleepy look with Max, the brindle-colored bulldog sprawled on the rug on the floor by his bed, then got up.

The house was chilly... spring was just now settling in and the mornings were still brisk. The big, old house had been built to stay as cool as possible in the hot summers of Memphis one hundred years ago, so it certainly wasn’t warming up under the bright but distant sun of an April morning. That was fine. Ennis pulled on his jeans from last night and a light sweatshirt, followed Samson, meeowing urgently, down the stairs to the kitchen. He heard Max’s claws finally clicking on the wooden floor, bringing up the rear slowly in their procession of three. Max left Samson to do all the dirty work, waking Ennis up and showing him where the food was, then got there just in time to take advantage of the situation. It seemed to work for them – whatever.

After they were both settled with their bowls of kibbles, Ennis started up his high tech coffee machine. While it ground beans and brewed up a fragrant breakfast blend, he examined the contents of his oversized stainless steel refrigerator, contemplated his taste buds and his stomach, finally decided on a Greek omelet with spinach, onions and feta cheese, and a thick slice of toast from the loaf of sourdough bread he’d brought home last night from his restaurant, Lagniappe.

Ennis raised the kitchen windows to let the fresh air in, and to give Samson something to occupy himself with besides weaving endless figure eights around his ankles, begging for cheese. He fixed his breakfast on autopilot, bare feet sliding silently over the dark ceramic tiles of his kitchen floor, flipping the omelet with careless skill over the gas flame, searing his toast quickly in the same skillet afterwards. He ate sitting on a tall barstool at the big center island, reading the paper, sipping his coffee. Samson was still in the window, chattering at the birds in the feeder outside. Max settled his big square body by the barstool, hoping for accidental spills and leftovers.

Ennis skimmed the front page... crime... what a surprise, some corruption, how unusual.... There was lots to love about Memphis, the music, the food, the kazillion trees, the river.... the Orpheum was nice, the zoo was awesome, sports was ok.... they got some good concerts at the Forum, but the crime sucked, racism sucked worse, and the politics took creepy to a whole new level. Ennis heard about all the bad stuff through the grapevine at work, knew it was out there, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it, so he tried not to worry too much. He lived in a safe, upscale mid-town neighborhood, owned and operated an extremely popular restaurant in the area, felt like he was doing his part for the community. He’d gotten both his dog and his cat from the shelter, and he donated regularly to several different worthwhile causes. He wasn’t a saint, but he wasn’t a slug either.

What he was... was lonely. It had been five years since he’d last slept with a woman, two since he’d last slept with a man. He thought he’d probably never sleep with a woman again, had made peace with that. But he’d like to have a man again, missed sex, missed the roughness of that particular brand of passion. His last experience had set him back though – had been with a man who’d lied to him about things that were important. Ennis had survived it intact, but he’d been scared for a while, and hurt, and his trust had been broken. He wasn’t sure, even still, if he was ready for another relationship, but he thought he might be ready for sex. He looked at his right hand curved around his coffee cup, shook his head sadly. The thrill was definitely gone out of that relationship.

Ennis got to the Appeal section, his favorite part of the paper. It was all about food on Wednesday, but today, Thursday, they focused on kid issues. Not a big area of interest to him, since he’d probably never have any of his own. He did have a niece and nephew up in St. Louis, and he loved them, but their mom had their raising well in hand, didn’t need any advice from her gay brother.  So he sent cards on their birthdays, took presents at Christmas, tried not to notice her snide remarks and disgusted looks when he happened to mention a friend, tried to be extra careful not to wrestle too much with his nephew or hug him too long when he left.  In some remote little spot in her heart, he knew that Katherine loved him, but for the most part, she was a bitch, always had been, couldn’t really help it.  And, since she was the closest family he had, he’d decided long ago to accept her for what she was and hope that maybe someday she could return the favor. In the meantime, they agreed to disagree about his lifestyle.

Today, the main article on the front page didn’t focus on child-raising, but on child-casting. Another of John Grisham’s books was being made into a movie to be filmed here in Memphis. Production was scheduled to start in just a few weeks and they needed a few kids for extras. The article was all about the benefits versus the headaches of the experience and included interviews with kids and parents of kids who’d had had bit parts in movies in the past. 

Ennis skimmed the article quickly. He wasn’t really interested in the article itself, but he was interested in the movie. Whenever something unusual like this happened in town, it created a stir of excitement all around. It was especially good for businesses in the area where Lagniappe was because the actors and production people often came to that part of town to play when they stayed local over the weekend. Ennis was particularly intrigued with this movie because he had a bit of a crush on the actor playing the lead role. He was disappointed to see there were no new pictures of him, just a cursory note that he was the star.

As a rule, Ennis wasn’t impressed with celebrities, had never asked for an autograph even though many famous people had eaten at his restaurant over the past few years. Usually he’d go out to their table to say hello if he knew they were there, maybe bring an extra tidbit if he had something handy. They expected it, and he didn’t mind that small bit of special courtesy. That was as far as it went though. They were just people doing their job, just like him. If it was a fireman who’d saved a person from a burning house, he’d make more of an effort, but those folks rarely ate at his restaurant, or if they did, they didn’t say.

While he cleared away his breakfast things, he thought about him, wondered when he’d get to town, where he’d stay, if he might eat at his restaurant. The paper had run a long article about plans for the movie a couple of months ago. The director was planning to film quite a bit of it in and around the district where his restaurant was located, and they had rented a big beautiful home a few streets over from his. He walked by it sometimes when he was out for a prowl with Max. The house was strictly for filming though. No mention had been made regarding accommodations for the cast and crew.

Not that it mattered. If he was staying in the house next door, Ennis might take him a quart of gumbo, just to be neighborly, but otherwise he’d leave him alone. Ennis had always been a loner by nature, quiet and even a bit reclusive – owning a restaurant, especially a popular one, had required that he develop a more people friendly persona during working hours, but when he was on his own, he was as invisible as ever.

Ennis actually liked being invisible most of the time. He had friends – he wasn’t a total hermit – but they were mostly like him, quiet and reserved, gay, straight, black and white, an eclectic mix of people he’d met and liked throughout his career.  Mostly they got together for dinner at each other’s homes, sometimes watched movies or football games in the fall, and had even had a few poker nights lately. 

They all knew he was gay, knew he’d been alone for awhile, and several of them had tried, especially over the last year, to fix him up, but so far, he’d resisted. Somehow, set-ups made him feel cheap. If he couldn’t meet someone on his own that he liked, he’d just rather do without.  Of course his resistance hadn’t slowed them down for a second, and he’d met lots of nice and interesting men and a few women over the past few months, but none of them had stuck. Maybe he just wasn’t ready yet.

He was ready for sex, though, he knew that, his body screamed it at him every morning, sometimes almost drowning out Samson’s raucous cries with its own desperate need. Knowing he was coming to town had somehow made it worse. Ennis knew nothing about him personally – had read a couple of articles in magazines, had seen him on Jay Leno one night, but who knew how much of that was real and how much was generated by his image consultant. There’d been some rumors flying around for several months that he might be gay... but who knew if that was true or not... again, not that it mattered. If Ennis met him, it would be a three minute long nerve wracking ordeal, listening to him saying something complimentary about whatever dish he’d chosen, thanking him for eating at his restaurant.

But just knowing he was going to be in the same city for a few months had cracked open the dark box where Ennis kept his desires hidden away, woken them up, set them to stirring. Before, he hadn’t given him much thought, nothing beyond enjoying his picture when it showed up in People magazine, going early to see whatever movie he happened to be starring in...  but now, for some reason, his yearnings had sharpened, his want intensified, and even if it was just a fantasy, his presence made it harder to accept the sadness of being alone, the futility of wanting someone special who probably didn’t even exist.

Done in the kitchen, Ennis walked slowly, carefully, towards the small room at the very back of the house. By the time he got to the hallway leading to it, Max was up on his feet, watching, intent and interested. When he crossed the threshold from the kitchen into the hall, Max started his happy dance. He lifted his arm with quiet deliberation, saw the strings of slobber slinging from Max’s mouth as he shook his head, lost in ecstasy. By the time Ennis actually had the leash in his hand, Max was one giant spasm of joy. Ennis worried that one day he might actually have an excitement-induced heart attack before he even got the leash clipped onto his collar. The walk itself had to be anti-climactic after the thrill of getting ready for it.

Ennis and Max walked all around the neighborhood, up and down several quiet, tree-lined streets, before coming to the street. It was no different, really, from their street. They lived in an extremely nice and well-kept neighborhood, all of the homes dating back to the early-to-mid nineteen hundreds. This area had undergone a total revitalization about ten years ago. Now all of the houses were in tip-top shape, all the yards were perfect, with tulip trees heavy-laden with big pink flowers, azalea bushes in every shade from white to crimson. The driveways sported mostly Volkswagens and Volvos and the new, smaller SUV’s.

The house in question was along the middle of the street. Like most of its neighbors, it was two stories, built with dark burgundy bricks and a deep porch with white trim covering the entire front. There were two cars in the driveway, and a black Mercedes out front, making Ennis think that they were getting ready for business. He wondered what it would be like to turn your house over to a movie production, couldn’t think that he would like that. His house was his hideaway, his retreat from the world, and although he enjoyed sharing it with his friends, it was much too personal to hand over to strangers. They lingered for a minute, Max sniffing the grass and a disgusting-looking blob that Ennis tried not to think about, then went on their way.

Once they got home, it was time for Ennis to get ready to leave. He had some errands to run before he went to the restaurant. It opened for lunch - he wouldn’t get there until the lunch crowd was gone today, but that was ok.  His staff was fine to handle the lunch push without him. He tried not to miss many dinners, although the manager he had working there now was top notch, and he was feeling more comfortable about leaving him alone.  As long as one of them was there during the evening, everything was fine. Now, if only he had something interesting to do at night instead of going to work, he’d be really happy.

He went by the cleaners, the post office and the restaurant supply store, then pulled into Barnes and Noble, just for a minute. Although he didn’t have a lot of spare time for reading, he enjoyed it when he could, and he’d seen recently that one of his favorite authors, Greg Iles, had a new book out. After snagging a copy from the new release section, he browsed around for a while, looking at the best sellers, eventually gravitating towards the back to the magazines. It had been a long time since he’d bought a new magazine.  Maybe that would perk him up a bit... it was a little embarrassing, but what the hell... he was thirty-one years old, he didn’t know these people, and even if he did, so what? He was who he was, and it was past time he quit worrying about it and moved on. Being gay didn’t make him a sissy or a fairy or a queen... he just enjoyed sex with guys more than he enjoyed it with women... why was that such a big fucking deal? Especially now, since he wasn’t getting any from anyone, man or woman, had no prospects on the horizon, and was sadly reduced to fantasizing about some movie star that he’d probably never meet and who’d almost certainly turn out to be a big, flaming disappointment if he did.

Ennis forced himself to not look over his shoulder for spies, walked right up to the area where they kept the magazines he was interested in, then, even at over six feet, had to stand on tip-toe to see the covers. After looking for a moment, he chose one, all crisp and pristine in its clear, plastic wrapper. As he was turning to go, he noticed a familiar face looking up at him from the men’s magazines. It was him, on the cover, looking sexy and perfect as always, eyelids low and heavy over smoldering, bedroom eyes screaming fuck me. Ennis reminded himself that it was just a look, it had nothing to do with the man he was inside, but he got a copy of the magazine anyway. Even if he didn’t want to spoil his fantasy by reading the article, he’d still enjoy looking at the pictures.

That night, after taking care of Max and Samson, Ennis went up to his room with a glass of wine and his new magazines. He laid the magazines on his bed, went through to his connecting bath and took a piping hot shower. Afterwards, he dried off with a large charcoal bath towel, then wore it wrapped around his hips back to his bed. He carefully removed the protective plastic from the smut magazine, then laid both magazines side by side on his bed, studying the covers while he sipped his wine. One cover featured a full rear view of a beautiful man with smooth tan skin and sculpted muscles, posed provocatively. The other featured an even more beautiful man, fully clothed, with thick, lush hair combed back casually off his forehead, heavy brows and lashes guarding sexy blue eyes, heavy stubble surrounding a wide, mobile mouth made for kissing, for sucking. He wondered if he’d ever had a dick in his mouth, wondered if there was any truth to those rumors that he was gay. If they were true, did he top or bottom or go both ways? Ennis had started out as a top, and it had taken him a long time to get up the courage to let someone fuck him. When it had finally happened, it had hurt some, made him feel really uncomfortable. He’d tried it a few more times, but it never got any better, so he didn’t really do it anymore. Maybe it was something he could learn to like if he did it with the right person, but - considering his circumstances - it certainly wasn’t an issue right now.

Ennis had gotten hard just from looking at the covers of his new magazines... he took another sip of his wine, flipped open the porn. The whole point was to jack off, not to have romantic fantasies about Mr. Unattainable, so he pushed that magazine to the side, spread his towel down on the bed and started looking at the dirty pictures.

They actually weren’t that dirty, were mostly photos celebrating the male form. Even the pictures where the men were having sex were tastefully done, not gross and disgusting. Ennis stroked himself languidly, letting the sensations build slowly, gradually, looking at the pictures of men fucking men, thinking of him though, imagining that he was fucking him, how hot that would be, how sweet it would feel. What position would he choose, if he could pick any one? Ennis usually preferred doggie style, but for him, he’d want him on his back beneath him, he’d want to see his beautiful face, watch the expressions of pleasure and passion race across it while he made love to him, and he’d want to kiss him, explore his mouth, lick him and taste him and play chase with his tongue.... Ennis felt himself getting tight down low in his belly, he was there, ready to come... he closed his eyes, pulled harder, stroked faster... he was coming.... oh yes..... As he felt his release unfurling deep inside of him, he opened his eyes again, locked gazes with him on the cover of the magazine.... lying on his bed.... looking up at him.... watching him come.