Angus's Thoughts

Musing #34 – What is Angus thinking?

Angus Reese was a bit drunk and really high but that didn’t explain the sudden curiosity about how boys have sex. Sure, he’d seen a few pornos and, as any good liberal should, attended his fair share of gay pride parades, usually with lesbian friends. He liked pussy and a fair set of tits bouncing from just above the opening of a silk blouse rocked his johnny something fierce. But as some distant intellectual exercise, Angus wondered just exactly how blokes, well, did it. The whole “similar body parts” piece just eluded him – was it weird to feel hair against your upper lip (Did it tickle, like some of his girlfriends said)? Did guys give better blow jobs (A guy’s gotta know what a guy wants, right)? Do guys feel the same kind of spark straight guys do when they find the one (or do they just fuck around like most straight guys wish they could)? The latter question puzzled him the most for, despite wooing and bedding any number of women, at some point, Angus always felt empty, as if the conquest was the only thrill. He was beginning to think that despite really wanting children that eventually he would just adopt some Congolese orphan and raise him or her as a single dad. Having to talk to some slapper who was always hounding him for money or affection did not seem like a positive lifestyle choice.




Tonight though he had a chance to ask these budding questions of someone who wouldn’t laugh or get offended - his childhood friend Desmond “Deetz” Mac Innes. The two were recently reunited when his father, the 11th Earl of Glamorgan, and his valet, Deetz’s father came up missing, presumed dead, after some tricky business as spies for Her Majesty’s Secret Service. The revelation behind the older men’s frequent, extended absences during their sons’ youth came as a shock and the recent attempt on Angus’s life was leading the new Earl to wonder about the strange new direction his life was suddenly taking. And it was also making him wonder about gay sex.

The two were alone at Deetz’s sister Ciara’s home, Redrow Cottage, a spacious attachment to her large farm animal veterinarian clinic, all bequeathed to her by Angus’s great aunt, Lady Nora. Angus and Deetz were sitting at the kitchen island enjoying a mellow buzz from some pot but it was Deetz’s special martinis that gave Angus the courage to press forward with his investigation. “I thought you were gay,” he asked.

Deetz chuckled sarcastically, as he was apt often to do. “Pansexual is the more correct term.”

Angus was uncertain he heard correctly. “Pan? Like a frying pan?” He scratched the back of his head, a nervous habit from childhood, his shoulder length auburn hair falling lazily around his hand. This sexuality stuff was confusing nowadays even for a card-carrying millennial.

“No, pansexual. It means someone who is sexually attracted to, can form romantic love toward, or develop an emotional attraction with people regardless of the other person’s sex or gender identity. Social science types call it ‘gender blind attraction’.” Asian tattoos peeked from underneath Deetz t-shirt sleeve and moved as his fit bicep tightened then relaxed. He was pouring a bag of pretzels, Angus’s food fixation, into a bowl.

“Ah, okay.” Angus wasn’t sure what that meant and who that meant he’d slept with but it certainly ensured his childhood friend had been places and done, things. But Angus didn’t want to look stupid so he didn’t directly ask, Hey, how do blokes fuck? Using a movie was maybe a good angle – Deetz always loved movies. “Right! Let’s watch that Brokeback Mountain movie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen blokes kiss properly before.”

“Seriously? You went to boarding school.”

“Yeah, but that’s all bullshit hazing,” Angus replied. He looked down at his right arm, wondering why the hairs there were standing at attention and his hands were suddenly damp. “I want to see what it’s like when they like each other. I wonder if it is any different than kissing some right babe.”

“I assure you. The difference is minuscule but if you insist,” Deetz quipped quickly with a confidence that threw Angus off-guard. And it was in the mist of Angus considering all the implications in Deetz’s tone that Deetz came around the counter and kissed Angus squarely on the mouth. It was so sudden that Angus instinctively stiffened. Deetz pulled back slightly and took measure of his friend. They were of similar height and musculature but whereas Angus was broad like a lumberjack, Deetz was lean like Bruce Lee’s Welsh brother. Deetz’s pause was so brief, Angus didn’t have time for a heartbeat. And they stood so close, Deetz’s breath brushing lightly against Angus’s flush cheek. “Kissing, Angus, is about the tease,” whispered Deetz.

Deetz let his finger drag against the other man’s beard then lay surprisingly soft lips against quivering ones. And just as Angus got used to this sizzling sensation, Deetz shifted and began nibbling on Angus’s lower lip leaving Angus wondering if this sudden sense of inevitable surrender was how his lady friends felt once caught in his lair. In addition to being deftly done, Deetz’s mouth touched something inside Angus he had heretofore was unaware. It was intriguing while at the same time, spoke of a sad longing that Angus couldn’t fathom and immediately wanted to soothe. But when the kiss finally ended, lasting much longer than some social science research project, Deetz’s resulting countenance led Angus to wonder if he had been used.

“Any questions?” Deetz grinned sardonically, now running his own hand through his military-style buzz cut, backing away, ending in a medalist’s pose.

Angus next thought was a commitment to apologize to all the women he’d seduced since the first girl he kissed in the back seat of his family’s limo. “Yeah. I get it. Right,” he said, suddenly spit sober. “I think I should go.” He was humiliated by someone he trusted and although he didn’t claim any particular ethical or religious school of thought, Angus agreed with an ancient Jewish sage Deetz told him about years ago, Hillel, who said, “Treat others as you want to be treated”.

Angus firmly put the film box on the counter and started out the cottage door, walking toward the Morganwg Estate, a half a mile from the cottage. The cool midnight air was like a slap from an irate Temperance suffragette in a pub, eliminating any remaining sensual susceptivity and mental acquisitiveness. He had forgotten how flip Deetz could be and Angus wondered, during the six or so years they hadn’t seen one another, if bitterness toward his father had engulfed his friend’s soul like syrup caked on day old flapjacks.

Deetz, who’s clairsentience powers couldn’t allow him to dismiss the facts of what just happened, ran after Angus. It was all quite the melodrama, worthy of one of Deetz’s Hollywood movies. “Angus! Angus!” he called. “Please. Come on!”

After a few steps down the walkway, Angus was beginning to feel a bit foolish, walking away in a huff like he did. But still, his feelings were hurt and his manhood was more than a bit bruised. Additionally, he was surprised by his comfort with the strange excitement - a desire tickling from just behind his amygdala - that was about to be blown away by a light breeze. If Deetz hadn’t been such an asshole, they could be talking about it, analyzing it so Angus could . . . well, he didn’t know what they’d do with it and somehow that increased his irritation. “What?!”

“It’s late,” Deetz seemed to struggle with his words. “You know me. I rarely take things seriously . . . I . . ..”

“You know mate, that’s your problem. You don’t take shit seriously.”

Deetz’s face changed, losing all pretense of sarcastic fare-thee-well. He spoke in pleading, hesitant tones, demonstrating his deep sincerity. While he tried to explain himself, Angus recalled their past together – the young earl-to-be who wielded power by virtue of his birth and the son of the valet, who always followed behind him, clenching an unspoken crush well-hidden like a rose between the pages of an old book. Angus always knew how Deetz felt and it didn’t threaten him like it would other males. He didn’t take it seriously, figured it would die off over time like so many other childhood dreams. But that kiss clearly said that that particular dream was quite alive and, considering his reactions, Angus wondered, if offered another round, why he knew he wouldn’t say no.



- From “The Musings of Deetz Mac Innes”, 9/24/2016