Guilty Pleasures

The plane ride to Utah was uneventful. Gregg talked about his wife, our job and sports. I tried to keep up, but sports wasn't my thing, neither was talking about having sex with women.

"How are you and your girlfriend doing? Hey, we were going to get together sometime. My wife would like to meet you. She wants to scold you for all the nights I came home drunk reeking of smoke and hot wings." Gregg laughed.

There's a reason I haven't told my coworker Kit was a man. I feared losing him as a friend. I also couldn't keep up this charade of having a girlfriend.

"Gregg?" Now would be perfect to explain as he had nowhere to go. We were stuck in the sky in a tube with stale air. "I want to clear the air about something."

He looked at me with a straight face. "You're gay."

I felt the blood drain from my face and my breathing had stalled. My lungs burned for oxygen. I just stared at him. His eyes stern and mouth turned down. Shit, I thought, but couldn't tear my eyes away from his. Then, he smirked and crinkles shown around his eyes. I let out that breath, feeling my shoulders relax into place. I nodded slow and said, "Yes, how did you know?"

"I've seen your screensaver, buddy. What I don't understand is why you didn't tell me."

"I didn't know how you'd react."

"So you decided to tell me on a plane?" He laughed at the absurdity of it all. "What if I'd had a negative reaction and punched you or called you names?"

"I'd hide out in the bathroom for the duration of the flight." I joked with another deep breath, my fears alleviated.

"I don't care where you stick your dick, Richard. It's no big deal. So, is Kit really his name and is he a model or were you blowing smoke up my ass? Not that you wouldn't enjoy that," he teased, chuckling at his double entendre.

"Oh God. I want nothing to do with your ass." I rolled my eyes, but smirking. "His name is actually Chrystopher and it is Kit for short. He's a runway model for the clothing brand Fusion."

"He must be young then."

"Nineteen." I bragged.

"Jesus!" Gregg raised his brows. "I wouldn't mind a girlfriend that young. I'd spoil the shit out of her. You're what ... late twenties?"

I shook my head. "Thirty-nine."

"Twenty years older than him? Fuck," he said in admiration. "How'd you meet?"

I told him my story starting with Wil and the cruise. He listened intently, asking questions and nodding. After that, we went through the schedule Ms. Johnson gave us. Saturday would be busy and Sunday morning would be too. We were due home by 6pm that night. Tonight consisted of getting a rental car, checking in at the hotel, grabbing dinner, and writing up questions for the ranger/rappel fanatic—Jordan Stryker.
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Gregg and I got around to ordering room service at 8pm and ate on our separate beds talking about Dawson. I missed the little fellow and wanted to call him to wish him goodnight. It was too late. He'd be sleeping or tired by now. I'd call Kit in the morning to tell him what time I'd be back on Sunday and ask how he and Dawson were doing.

We didn't have to be at the Zion State Park until 10am, so Gregg and I stayed up, drank beer and watched a movie on a premium channel.

"Holy shit!" Gregg announced and laughed harder than I've ever heard him laugh before.

"What?"

"Ms. Johnson! She has the hots for you." He held his stomach. "She's going to be heartbroken when she finds out you're gay."

"I wasn't going to mention it to her. I don't want her to fire me."

"She can't discriminate based on that."

"That doesn't stop employers. She could say I'm not up to par and I suck." I held up my hand. "In the way of taking photos," I clarified for him before he made a joke.

"I suppose so, but your work attests to your ability and talent. I'd back you up if it came to that."

"Thanks. I'd rather keep it between you and me for now." I needed this job to support Dawson. I'm not superstitious, but I dare not think about the consequences of getting fired.

"Okay. I'm going to get ready for bed." Gregg took a pair of shorts out of his carry on and went to the bathroom to change.

I sensed he felt awkward about changing in front of me. Disheartened, I changed in the room, then got into bed and closed my eyes. I heard the door to the bathroom open and a, "Goodnight," from my coworker.

"Nite," I said. Images of Kit with Dawson warmed my heart. The two got along famously and I had no doubt they were going to have fun. I owed him big and I hadn't forgotten my promise to do anything when I returned home. I dozed off to visions of Kit and Dawson snuggled in bed together, sleeping.
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My phone trilled early in the morning. I woke irritated until I saw who was calling.

"Peggy? Is anything wrong?" I asked, sitting up to pay better attention.

"Nothing is wrong ... really ..., but Kit didn't come last night to pick up Dawson."

My immediate reaction was worry. Had he been in an accident? Did he forget? Then my head cleared and I remembered he'd been working last night. "Have you tried knocking on his apartment door?"

"Yes. Last night at eleven before I went to bed and twice again this morning. It's not a problem for Dawson to be here, but-"

"No. Kit should have been responsible and picked him up. I'm terribly sorry, Peggy." My face flushed with heat in anger at Kit. Worried and fury did not make for a good mood. "I'll call him and get right back to you."

"Oh thank you Richard. Lisa wanted to see a movie at noon. I'd hate to disappoint her."

"I'll call you right back," I said and hung up.

"Problems?" Gregg sat up and stretched.

"Kit didn't collect Dawson last night," I mumbled distracted and dialed Kit's cell. I walked to the bathroom and closed the door once I was inside and took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. The phone continued past eight rings. Kit didn't have it go directly to voice mail.

"Hello." A groggy voice murmured into the phone.

"Kit?" I questioned, though it sounded nothing like him. "Who is this?" I snapped, angry that Kit hadn't answered.

"Who the fuck are you, asshole?" the annoyed, foreign sounding voice barked drunkenly.

"My name is Richard Parker. Who are you and why are you answering Kit's phone?" I shot straight up and paced the tiled floor, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My reflection told me how enraged I felt.

"My name is Zhao." His loud yawn hurt my eardrum.

"And?"

"Kit's in my bed. Now go to hell."

"Wait!" I cut him off. "I want to talk to him."

"He's asleep, ass bag. Call him later."

"No. Wake his ass up right now," I maintained firmly. I wasn't in the mood to negotiate.

"Motherfuck!"

I heard the phone clatter onto a counter or dresser and Zhao speaking in the background. I waited five minutes before Kit answered with a hello.

"Where the hell are you?" I tightened my jaw.

"Uh ... Um ..." His voice faded and I put two and two together. I imagined him looking around to evaluate where he'd awakened.

"It appears I'm at Zhao's house. He had an after party last night and I must have fallen asleep."

At my anger limit, I clenched my teeth and used a clipped tone, "Or, you passed out."

"I did have a few to drink." He had the nerve to laugh. "I guess I had a great time."

I complained, "It was so great that you forgot something, or rather, someone. I was counting on you, Kit!"

"Dawson ... oh fuckin' shit! I'm sorry, Ricky."

"It's too late for that. Are you still drunk?"

"No. I just have a headache that an Aspirin will take care of."

"Good. Get your ass home, then retrieve Dawson from Peggy's place."

"I will and I'm really sorry."

He sounded apologetic so I let him off the hook. "I know you didn't intentionally forget."

"Everyone wanted me to go to the party, so I went for one drink, but they kept giving me shots and I got carried away. The show was magnificent. I met so many people, famous ones too." He waited and read my silence correctly. "Right. I'll head to Peggy's right now."

"Kit?" I nibbled my thumbnail.

"Yeah?"

"Did you sleep with that model or anyone else?"

"Jesus Christ, no! I wouldn't do that to you."

"He said you slept in his bed."

"I did. He's a friend." His voice calmed as he tried to remove my concerns. "Now, hang up so I can get Dawson."

"Okay. I come back Sunday at 6pm. I'll see you soon after that." I hung up and used the toilet. When I passed Gregg, I told him he could shower first. I phoned Peggy and updated her. She seemed grateful that Kit would be there within the hour. I could only imagine her having to deal with Dawson this morning.

"How is he?" I asked her and expected her to say she wanted to quit watching him.

"He was a perfect little gentleman just like his daddy. He was no trouble at all. Ate all of his supper and had blueberry pancakes for breakfast and a cup of milk. Right now he's playing with Lisa in the living room. He is such a joy to have around," she boasted.

My ego heightened at her praise. "I can't thank you enough for caring for him through the night."

"We'll see you back on Monday, goodbye."

I brewed coffee supplied by the hotel. It tasted shitty, but it was caffeine.

"Your turn." Gregg told me, fully dressed, and picked up the other glass cup to pour himself coffee.

"It's awful, but it's hot," I told him with a smile as I walked to the bathroom with my coffee cup and clothes in my other hand.
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Heading East on I-15 took us to the city of Saint George, Utah. A few miles north of town we took the turnoff for Zion. Gregg and I met the head ranger, Mr. Reed, in the lobby of the visitor's center at Zion Park. He greeted us with a firm handshake as we introduced ourselves. Following him, he pointed out fauna and flora, naming every plant, tree, animal footprints, and insects as we found them. Gregg took notes while I took pictures.

"Jordan will rappel down Mt. Spry and meet us at the bottom of the canyon. It can take a while for him to descend, giving you time for plenty of pictures." Mr. Reed stopped and pointed to the golf cart we were to ride in. "All aboard."

I sat in the front and Gregg took the backseat. Soon the tires were spitting up dust as we made our way between huge colorful rock walls and winding through trees and brush. We came to a stop and had to walk the rest of the way to prevent erosion of the environment from the tires. I gasped the first time I saw Jordan. I'd followed Mr. Reed's pointer finger and saw a tiny speck of a man on the side of Mount Spry rappelling down the slabby rock.

"Spry has around ten vertical rappels, or raps. He's done one already."

Gregg and I got our gear and walked our separate ways to gather photos from every angle. After an hour, Gregg came and stood next to me.

"Incredible, isn't it?"

We gazed at the nimble man that challenged death. "It certainly is. Sort of stupid though too. Why risk it?"

Mr. Reed heard me and approached. "He does it because he loves it, and for the thrill and big dose of adrenaline. Nothing makes you feel more alive than testing your body's will."

"I like it here on the ground. If I fall, I don't have far to go." I said, getting a laugh out of the two men. I glanced at Jordan. He was in a narrow slot and down-slid, elevator-style.

Mr. Reed kept us entertained, telling us about the changing seasons and what they brought to the park.
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Jordan looked to be halfway down now and I brought out my camera again, Gregg followed suit. He rappelled sixty-five feet to a small ledge and took a drink out of a bottle he'd clipped to his harness. I wondered which way he would go next because straight down looked too dangerous.

"Oh my God." I whispered. "Gregg, look!" I heard my coworker hiss in a breath.

Jordan had begun rappelling again—this time down a scary, steep and narrow slot, or in my opinion, on the precipice of defeat. I held my breath as he climbed up, then left, rappelling off a tree and down again. He could easily take a nosedive, fall and die, but he hadn't.

My heart raced watching this mere man maneuver through gullies, slabs and chimneys of rock. I was struck with a familiar frightening thought. Having a child in my life made me think of my mortality. I'd leave Dawson with no one to care for him when I died. I needed to make a will! A panic attack snuck up on me. I bent over with my hands on my knees and took deep breaths in and out. I felt a hand rubbing circles between my shoulder blades.

"Harrowing isn't it? You okay?"

Gregg! He was my answer. "Yeah, I just had a thought. If something happened to me, would you take Dawson? In the event of my death, that is."

"What about Kit?"

"He's nineteen," I said, turning my face to him with a grim twist on my mouth and waved my hand in dismissal. Gregg didn't need me to elaborate.

"Nothing is going to happen to you. You'll outlive me, but just to ease your mind, yes. I'd love to take your son if need be."

I straightened and cracked my back as I looked to the side of Mount Spry again. "Thanks." Gregg's accepting of Dawson drew tears to my eyes. I wouldn't have to worry anymore. This gave me incentive for Gregg and his wife to meet Kit and Dawson.
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Jordan Stryker was a friendly man in his twenties and very fit. I couldn't help notice how he didn't have an ounce of fat on his body. His curly dark blonde hair blew in the breeze and covered half his face so that he had to keep tucking the stubborn strands behind his ear.

Gregg and I had bundled up in sweaters and fall coats. I had a knit cap on and gloves and Gregg put up his hood and shoved his hands in his pockets. Jordan wore a black and teal wool sweater, tactical gloves, sunglasses secured around his head, lime green rock climbing shoes, and water/wind proof climbing pants with half a bib and a helmet held to his waist by his arm forearm.

"Alright then, let's get started." Jordan's enthusiasm struck me, as did his dark eyes. He pointed out his gear. "You need rope, a harness, a helmet, a locking biner and a belay device." He showed us everything we needed to know about his favorite pastime. Next, he explained how to set up and move down the side of a cliff or mountain by feeding the rope. Most of it went over my head, but I did enjoy listening to the passion for climbing and rappelling in his voice. His smile certainly was catchy as well.

He grinned at me and asked, "Wanna try it? It's exciting, better than sex."

"I'll stick to sex. At least if I fall, it'll be out of bed, not off a cliff."

Jordan chuckled. "Oops, guess we better catch up to the others." He nodded ahead. Gregg and Mr. Reed were already ahead of us, walking to the golf cart.

I nodded. "What the hell were you thinking the first time you thought about climbing that high and coming down on a rope with nothing to catch you? What goes through your head?"

Jordan chuckled, walking close to me. "I'd seen it done on TV and it looked fun. I took a course, studied it on the Internet and spent time in mountain climbing gear stores talking to the workers and customers. They'll teach you all you need to know."

"If I did something every time I thought it looked fun..." I shook my head.

Jordan patted my back. "You'd have had fun. Every vertical surface is a potential climb."

"I'll stick to climbing stairs." I smiled.

His teeth gleamed when he smiled at me. He slowed his step and asked, "What are you doing tonight?"

I braked to keep in step with him. "We're going back to the hotel and probably have dinner and then hit the hay."

"No, what are you doing later?"

"Me?" I pointed at myself. Tongue-tied, I replied, "I, uh, nothing. Just chilling out." Chilling? Great. Now I sounded like Kit.

"Well, would you like to have dinner with me?" Jordan's charming expression interested me and I found his offer attractive, as well as blatant.