Forbidden Heat

The pub hadn’t changed much in all these years. They walked down the stairs to a dimly lit room of round tables each surrounded by chairs, anywhere from three to six per table. While here, one wouldn’t know if it was sunny or snow-ridden outside. No outside light penetrated the Cave, as it was called.

Trey and Danielle sat down while Jake wandered toward the bar. Only one other table was occupied. A young man and woman, books spread out on the table in front of them as they sipped beer from pilsner glasses.

Jake plunked a pitcher of beer in front of them, then put down a tower of three glasses. He unstacked them, then tipped the pitcher to fill each with the amber, fuzzy liquid.

She hadn’t had beer in years, but the bitter, yeasty taste reminded her of good times spent with people who had been her friends—including the two men at her side. She sipped again, the cold beer refreshing after the long ride here. She hadn’t liked beer when she’d arrived at university, but it was aff ordable, especially with a pitcher shared with others . . . and made her feel part of the crowd. She’d liked that feeling. So she’d acquired a taste for beer.

“So, Jake, you said you teach now,” said Danielle. “Math, right?”

Jake shook his head.

She raised an eyebrow. “Computers?”

Trey chuckled. “You’ll never guess.”

That could only mean one thing. “No, you don’t teach philosophy?”

“That’s the one,” Jake confirmed.

“But you always liked subjects with definite right or wrong answers. Things that didn’t have shades of gray.” Then she remembered that logic and artificial intelligence had been areas of study included under philosophy. “Of course, you pursued your interest in AI, right?”

“Not exactly. Except as a study in ethics. Should intelligent machines be created, and if they were, would they have souls?”

“Okay. That really is a change.”

As she gazed into his eyes, she realized he’d probably gone searching for answers. When he’d lost Trey, he might have been seeking an understanding of why people behave the way they do. Why people accept some things and reject others. Like Trey being afraid to embrace his sexual orientation. Like society’s long history of rebuffing same-sex couples. Like even when people accepted an alternate sexual orientation, they often still required that the people in question choose one gender or the other, asserting that the very real feelings bisexuals have for those of their same gender are a choice, rather than an inherent and totally spontaneous desire they have no control over.

Being bisexual must be a confusing and difficult path . . . made more difficult for Jake because even his lover, Trey, couldn’t accept what they had. Trey’s discovery that he was bisexual seemed to allow him to deny his desire for Jake—or any man—and embrace what he felt was a normal, or more acceptable and safer, type of relationship. Heterosexuality.

It must have been a terrible blow to Jake, despite his apparent calm acceptance, to lose someone he’d cherished so deeply. And still did.

As they stepped into the bright afternoon, Danielle noticed that dark clouds threatened the edges of the glorious blue sky. Before they’d left Jake’s house, they’d stuffed towels and bathing suits into their backpacks in hopes of enjoying a swim after their visit to campus.

“Maybe we should skip that swim and head back,” she suggested. She didn’t even mention going to her old residence, hoping they’d forget about that entirely.

“Nonsense,” Trey said. “It’s not much farther. Anyway, a little rain won’t hurt us.”

When she was younger, she used to love being out in the rain. She glanced at the darkening sky. Was she becoming stodgy?

“Okay, let’s go.” She began pedaling and the men fell in beside her.

About fifteen minutes later, they turned off the main bike path to one winding through the woods. Ten minutes after that, with still a good twenty minutes of uphill riding to their destination—a swimming hole in a small clearing—the sky began pelting them with large, heavy droplets of rain. Slowly, at first, her shirt splotched with large, wet stains. . . . Then the drops came faster, until she was drenched.

“Nice view,” Trey kidded.

Her bra was totally visible through the light cotton shirt. Of course, she didn’t mind the view of Trey’s shirt clinging to his awesome tight abs.

A flash of lightning lit the sky and a sharp crack of thunder nearly sent her flying off the bike. Lightning flashed again, followed by a rolling boom across the distance. Shivers ran through her, as much from the pyrotechnics as from the chill of the air traveling across her wet body.

“Maybe we should find some shelter,” Jake said. “Trey, where’s that cave?”

“Not too far.”

They rode a little farther, then Trey pointed ahead.

“See the break in the trees there?” He rode ahead a bit, then stopped and dismounted.

Danielle and Jake slowed and stopped beside him.