After wandering around the house for a bit--sadly not finding a hot tub in the backyard or in the basement--I found myself in Gerald's bedroom. A piece of artwork on the wall stuck my attention. It was of two frogs. One was sprawled out, lying with his ass up in the air. The other was sitting on a rock, smoking a pipe. Something was written across the top of the painting in some foreign language. I wondered what it said.
I sat down on the edge of Gerald's bed, feeling the cool satin with my hands. The sheets were midnight black. Very beautiful. Very inviting. I thought about crawling under the covers and seeing what it was like to be in his bed, but decided against it. I would end up sleeping in the bed tonight, anyway. Why rush things?
The nightstand beside the bed was very neat. The only things sitting on the top were a lamp and a large glass ashtray. There were no ashes in the tray, only some change and an old watch. I knew Gerald's wife didn't smoke, but I suddenly realized I didn't know if Gerald smoked or not. I always assumed that he did. My father did, anyway. Fat, stinky cigars from Cuba. I always imagined them puffing away in their office while closing big deals. Or whatever they did.
I wonder what's in here? I stared at the nightstand. Unable to control my curiosity, I opened the drawer. Just more scattered pieces of various junk. Finding nothing interesting inside, I sighed and closed the drawer.
Annoyed at what I had found, I got off the bed and walked to the den. Gerald's private space. A large oak desk sat prominently in the middle of the room. I flopped down in the leather chair behind the desk and smiled, feeling important. I opened the drawer before me and almost screamed.
There, in a perfect pile, was a stack of Playgirls.
"What the hell?" I breathed deeply. "No freaking way."
I pulled one out and flipped through. After being greeted by page after page of naked men it was confirmed. "Yeah, this is a Playgirl, alright."
Excitement rushed through me. If Gerald's gay, maybe I actually could ... I let the thought go. Don't be an idiot. I placed the magazine back in the drawer and slid it shut. He's your dad's friend. You couldn't so much as mention that you're attracted to him. What if he told--?
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