River

Samuel Duncan

I know that this is the whole reason I come down Under-the-hill so often, because I am seeking this exact thrill. This reaction to the presence of an intriguing man. But I feel it so much more strongly right now than I ever have before. My tangible bodily reaction to him is growing almost painful. Good thing I am seated behind this table, concealing the evidence.

I can tell that he keeps glancing at me as well. At first I thought that it was only because he was put off by how often he kept feeling my eyes upon him, but I am starting to think that he has the same motivation that I do.

I don’t know what to do. I have never acted on any of my impulses before. There is no opportunity in society for a man like me to find an outlet for my needs, at least not a socially acceptable method that I have known how to access. But here I am, increasingly flustered with the overwhelming physical attraction that I feel growing. I am more and more disconcerted as I see him repeatedly glancing at me, and I grow convinced that he might be receptive to spending more time with me. But I am an utter neophyte, never having pursued any object of affection, either female or male. I haven’t the first idea of how to start.

I’ve lost the last several hands, so distracted by my dilemma that I can’t concentrate at all on cards.

Well, I clearly am a failure at both romance and poker. I need to go before I lose my heart and my life savings. When I lay down my last hand, I say, “I’m going to have to pack it in, gentlemen. Thank you for letting me join your game. Good night.”

As I stand to rise, Ben pushes his chair back from the table as well. “I’m done too. See you tomorrow, David,” he says in his appealingly deep voice.

What is happening? It couldn’t be…?

Ben

I’ve just been waiting for him. After remembering the look in his eyes all year, and now spending an evening playing poker with him, I can’t let him slip away without at least talking to him. I don’t know for sure, but the way he kept trying not to look at me gives me hope.

It has been a long time since I tried to have any physical interaction with another man. I keep my preferences hidden from my crewmates, even from my best friend David. There is little place for a man like me, so I simply pretend not to be. As far as I can tell nobody questions this, as I tend to speak very little on any topic. Talking has always been difficult for me, as has my attraction to men. I have a few memories of times that this attraction has led me to interact in enormously satisfying ways. I wonder if there is any chance of Samuel being open to at least a conversation.

As we leave the tavern, Samuel starts to say, in his pleasant, gentlemanly way, “Good evening, Ben, it was very nice to meet you.”

I don’t want it to end so quickly. “Where are you going now?” I ask him.

He looks surprised. “Just up the hill, just home.” He hesitates, as though unsure why I even asked him. I can tell he is nervous. Maybe he has even less experience than I do. “What about you?” he asks, his eyes slightly widened as though he can’t believe he is having this conversation. He looks younger than me even, and I’m not very old. His fine clothing gives him an air of distinguishment that his anxious expression belies. And his trousers cannot hide what I believe he is feeling.

“I don’t have anywhere to stay,” I tell him. “We just came off the flatboat today, I figure I’ll find a spot somewhere under a tree or something to lay my head.” I know where David will be spending the night, at one of the whorehouses around here. Not me. I’m always on my own at night when we’re in town.

Samuel doesn’t say anything, just continues looking at me, apparently stymied about what to do next.

“Can you offer me any suggestions?” I ask, trying to draw out our time together. “You know the area around here better than I do. Are there any fields nearby where I would be able to get some rest?”

“Er,” he stammers. “I am not entirely sure. I haven’t spent much time in the fields.”

Yes, his nervousness tells me what I want to know. “Will you help me look for a place?” I ask him, and wordlessly, almost fearfully, he nods and follows me back up through the trees along the riverbank.

Samuel Duncan

My heart is thundering, and the hammering feeling of my pulse throughout my body is only making my arousal more impossible to ignore. I don’t know what is going to happen, but I can tell that Ben wants me to stay with him rather than going home.

We walk for a few minutes, until the raucous noises emanating from Under-the-hill have faded enough that they are barely audible. There is clearly nobody nearby.

Ben stops within a little protected grove of trees, with a partially obscured view of the river but very little view of the land behind it. He turns to face me.

“This looks good,” he says.

“Good for….” I ask, flummoxed by the sensation of being alone here with him.

“Sleeping, of course,” he says. “Unless you had anything else in mind?”

“What? I, uh, no, I.…”

He watches me stuttering. In the moonlight he is even more handsome. His face is bearded, his hair is longish, and his strong forearms protrude from his rolled-up sleeves. The night is still quite warm. The gurgling sound of the river flowing by blends with the insects buzzing in the trees. I think that they are the only reason that Ben cannot hear the pounding of my heart.

Very slowly, as though to give me all the time in the world to prevent it, he lifts his hand up and runs his fingers along my cheek. I think I’m holding my breath. His fingers trace all along my jawline.

“I like a clean shaven face,” he comments. “I don’t get the chance to do it myself. But it looks very good on you.”

I feel the fingers along my skin like a line of fire igniting every nerve in my body. I can’t speak. I have never felt anything like this before, never experienced a moment like this. It feels surreal, but also like the most real thing I have ever done.

When I don’t respond, he brings his other hand up to my face as well. I hear myself breathing shakily and hard as though I have just run a great distance. Then, again very slowly, he brings his face closer to mine, pauses a moment, then kisses me. I think we are exactly the same height, and everything fits together perfectly.

If ever I imagined such a time, my imagination could not do it justice. The sensations are overwhelming. His whiskers scratch against my face, both soft and rough, and his mouth takes mine with a firm touch. I am frozen for an instant, but then feel myself moving against him.

In a few seconds, he has pushed me against the nearest tree trunk, and has pressed his entire body up against me as his mouth continues its work against mine. I am lost in the moment, thinking of nothing but the sensations he is creating in me. I find myself reciprocating, forcing him even closer against me, grabbing him with all my might, the hands that I use so gently with my patients becoming instruments instead of brute force. The power in his arms, meeting the power of mine, our strength combining, is wildly exhilarating and moving.

It is when his hand reaches down and firmly grasps me through my trousers that it becomes too overwhelming for me. This is too much. I have never… I can not… I do not think…. I have to push him away.

“I’m sorry, I can’t, I have to go….” I can’t even make myself say goodbye before fleeing from his little thicket and rushing back towards town. I do not hear him follow me.

I don’t know what just happened, or what I want. I have never been so confused, so needy, so emotional. I rush all the way home and crawl into bed, glad that Stephen is already asleep. I doubt that I will be able to do the same.

Ben

I don’t try to stop him, of course. For just a second I feared that he had suddenly realized who I am, penetrated my secret. But then it immediately became clear that it was only a moment of panic stemming from his inexperience. I can tell this was his first time doing anything like this. Probably with either a man or woman. As much as I am longing for him to stay here, I want him to go at his own pace. And this was obviously way too fast.

I wish I had more time. David and I are planning to go up the Trace tomorrow, or no later than the next day.

If only there was an excuse for me to stay in town. I want to get to know him better. Much better.