San Diego: Sodom
The sun of San Diego is so different from other places. It seems brighter and hotter than anywhere else on the California Coast. I’ve loved this place since I was little. We’d always take trips down here in summer and live on the beach for three whole glorious weeks. We’d visit Sea World, of course, and that was fun, but I loved the beach! The sand and the surf are perfect here! They always have been and probably always will be!
LA has some lovely beaches with some lovelier people, but you can feel the tension there. The tension to impress one another. It’s so competitive! Venice Beach is just a ridiculously overt expression of this. But, in places like Mission Beach or Pacific Beach and especially Ocean Beach, things are far more laid back!
The beautiful mix with the plain and downright ugly! But, no one cares! It’s fantastic really. Families with children actually play and make sandcastles while surfers prance toward the waves to ‘hang ten’. Sometimes, when they are done with that, the surfers will sit right down with the kids and help make sandcastles with them. This always seems incredible to me.
San Diego is idyllic not just because it has some of the most beautiful places to see in California and the most beautiful weather of all anywhere, but because people have time to enjoy it all! It’s almost like a bit of Hawaii broke off and glued itself to the California coast. The culture is just so different from either LA or San Francisco. It’s almost like San Diego is in a different state altogether.
I have many friends in San Diego and a few are actually natives. They all share one thing, they work hard and fight to keep that difference from LA. It isn’t easy. Political and economic pressures try constantly to grip the city and lock it into an LA state of mind, but, somehow, despite this – San Diego remains itself!
It was here that my family took me to convalesce after the injuries I suffered at the cleated feet of those fucking jocks. The medical facilities in San Diego are amazing in their diversity and acuity. The reconstructive surgeons did wonders for me, but they could never quite make me whole again.
As good as the doctors were, I believe it was the healing spirit that presides over San Diego that helped me the most. Since those days . . . this place has become sacred to me!
It’s why I find myself here now with Bertie.
By coincidence or by fate, it turns out that Bertie’s grandfolks owned a little cottage in La Jolla and kept it in the will. They intended it for him to live in one day. After they died and before Bertie could take possession of the place, his grandfolks left it with a management agency who rented the cottage as a vacation rental. The money from the rents kept the old early 20th-century bungalow in pristine shape for many years.
Under the title agreement, Bertie allowed the company to rent the cottage for two years after he made his decision to take possession of it. Luck would have it that the two years were up just as I needed a place to stay to, again, convalesce.
I have been so in love with the bungalow and the neighborhood on Park Row just a short walking distance away from the famous La Jolla Cove. I have made it a daily ritual to go to the cove and walk, breath the fresh (and sometimes not so fresh, thanks to the seals) sea air. I love to hear the gentle wash of the waves as they lap and splash on the sandstone cliffs. I even love the ‘arpping’ barks of the sea lions and seals as they commune on the cliff faces near the little beach there.
After, I’ll have a light breakfast and the best coffee ever in a little cliff-hugging restaurant called the Breakwater Restaurant. It sits perched up on the side of a hill overlooking the cove. There is no better view anywhere for having breakfast. It’s just so beautiful and wholesome! That is where I am now.
It helps me as I continue to struggle with the constant nagging pull my body has for opioids, particularly Heroin.
I became an addict very young. I became an addict, unfortunately, when I had to use Oxycontin and sometimes Dilaudid consistently for two years as I healed from the injuries I had done to my privates. They were necessary then. The pain would be so bad at times I would throw up for hours or until I fell unconscious and my folks had to get me to the ER before going into shock. I tried to tough it out like a good ‘boy,’ but the doctors always said that was a mistake and that I needed to control my pain at all times until things knitted back together enough not to hurt quite as much.
I finally did what I was told, despite the fact the drugs always left me continually zombified. I lost a lot of school. I had to go back for a GED to get my High School diploma.
We were fortunate that our lawyers put the parents of the boys who attacked me under the gun to pay for my treatments. It was also good that I didn’t go back to regular school after my attack. I felt sure the jocks would have taken me out under the bleachers and beaten me to death after they had been arrested, tried, and released under ‘parental recognizance’. They were ordered to pay for my medical expenses and were kicked off the football team. That was grounds for murder in their twisted little minds.
Unfortunately, their parents agreed with their sons and their lawyers and our lawyers would have periodic tussles over my continued recuperative costs. One time one of the parents got so angry that he lost it and actually said out loud that it would have been best if his boy had killed me being that I was a fag and a mistake of nature.
Wow. Hate much?
So, blah blah blah. Here I am, having coffee and Eggs Benedict overlooking one of the most beautiful places on earth with just a tug of need for a fix. I no longer ache down there anymore and fortunately I no longer ‘hurt’ for Heroin. Methadone, counseling, La Jolla, and ESPECIALLY my beautiful Bertie have made that particular ‘hurt’ ease up considerably.
Take that, homophobic assholes! I survived, found love, and I am eating breakfast at a nice restaurant in one of the world’s most exclusive places overlooking the Pacific Ocean! I’m not only alive, but I live HERE now! Fuck you guys! Ha!
Where has Bertie been all my life? He is my Jesus! He is my avenging saving angel. He . . .
. . . he is my everything!
He is my everything and now here he is walking up the stairs! He looks so good! We’ve been doing a lot of exercises and walking together. I’ve been cooking for him so he’s been eating much better. Bar food is so bad! They put a lot of salt in it to make you thirsty so you’ll drink more. But, that food is usually all that bartenders have time for between breaks. I think he’s lost a good 40 lbs since April. It’s July now. It’s midsummer already. Pretty soon, it will be Labor Day and then Halloween! Where has time gone?
The San Diego Pride Celebration will be this weekend and they’ll have a big transgendered group entry. I have my special pink and blue flag all set! Bertie is taking me and he has a VIP pass for a place called Suburban Jo’s. I’ve never been there before. He says it used to be a Hamburger Jenny’s down here in San Diego and part of the chain that had places in Long Beach and WeHo (West Hollywood). Now, it’s gone local! Just as it should be. He says it’s a fun place and that he and the owner go way back.
I am still finding out little tidbits of Bertie’s history now and then. He has deep connections to the LGBTQ community in San Francisco and solved a lot of cases on their behalf when he was a detective for the SFPD. In so doing, he made lots and lots of Gay friends. I don’t know if he had any lovers. I think he’s always been straight, though I think, with me, he made an exception. I’m very nearly a woman, but there are still some things I need to ‘fix’. Bertie likes who I am right now! But, he knows that I should be happy and complete one day. He’s been helping me find transitioning doctors that could work my particularly difficult case.
We’ve finished breakfast and Bertie says he wants to show me somewhere that he doesn’t think I’ve been to before. I tell him that it’s not likely since I’ve been all up and down San Diego time and again. I am practically a local! But . . .
“Have you ever been to Black’s Beach?” he asks me.
Now I’m stumped. He actually has found somewhere I’ve never been before. For a long time, I thought the place was only a legend, but it turns out it’s a real place and quite popular among Gay locals and vacationers alike.
Black’s Beach is one of California’s most notorious clothing-optional beaches – although it’s not recognized as such by any authority. In true San Diego fashion, folks just made it that way because the police were always too lazy to climb down and raid the beach for ‘indecent exposure’. Ha!
As luck would have it, the beach is not too far away. Just up the coast a bit from La Jolla north of La Jolla Shores (one of my favorite beaches in the world not because of the ocean view, but the view of the shameless surfers who dress and undress themselves right in the parking lot and I mean ALL the way undress!) Nudity seems to be a regional pastime in and around that part of San Diego.
So, after a quick drive to the Torrey Pines Glider Port and a steep hike down the cliffs, we finally make it onto the sands. For some reason, this secluded beach is the epitome of all Southern California beaches. The tan and white sand is clean as baby powder and the waves rush and crash out in the breakwaters and reefs with stunning beauty. I don’t see any surfers, though, I figure there would be at least bodyboarders here. But, there are no lifeguards so possibly folks just don’t want to chance things. Great Whites do make it a habit of cruising around this coast, apparently. Yikes!
Being July, the water is warmer than usual so I see a lot of bathers, all with suits on, unfortunately. But Bertie eggs me forward toward the waterline where we can walk more comfortably on the wet packed sand. There’s no kelp anywhere so no ickiness to step around. There are still seashells and sand dollars galore! I used to collect them from the sand all the time when we’d go to Pacific Beach back when I was a child.
We progress northward a bit and finally, that’s where I see my first cock and balls. They belong to a middle-aged man who is a bit pudgy but not at all bad looking. He has a special male ‘friend’ with him and they both look unusually smiley and aglow somehow, even behind sunglasses. I suspect post-coital bliss at work with these two. They both smile in our direction and wave.
“You guys should lose those suits. You don’t need them now. You’re safe! Hehehehe!” The first one says and laughs and they continue on their way. For middle-agers, they have nice butts!
“Well . . . when in Rome!” and Bertie is the first to drop trow. He’s put a lot of work into his body of late and It shows. I can finally see the slight definition of a six-pack trying to form. He is still a little baggy about the belly button, but considering how much weight he’s lost it’s no surprise. To me, it’s sexy as all hell!
His schlong will always be a masterpiece. I have never in my live-long life seen such a beautiful piece of male equipment! It’s uncut but defined and – big!
So, I am nervous about shedding my bikini. I have a beautiful rack, thanks to my surgeon, but my lower half is still somewhat . . . misshapen.
I still have my penis, but it’s not really normal looking. It’s, kind of, bent strangely if that makes any sense. It works just fine, but it’s got a lot of scar tissue. I also no longer have testicles. Those had to be removed entirely because they were too badly injured during the attack. I’ve been told my butt is a work of art, however. Hehehehe! I will have to take everyone else’s word on that. I have no way of judging it myself.
“Come on, Sugarpants! Get loose! There’s nothin’ there no one here hasn’t seen before, Doll.” Bertie encourages. It’s funny, the sun in his salt-and-pepper hair is astoundingly beautiful!
“You think? I’m, you know . . . ” I say demurely.
“You’re what? You are BEAUTIFUL! That’s what you are!” He comes to me and embraces me and kisses me right on the lips right there on the sand by the sea. He allows himself to become aroused and is not in any way ashamed of it.
So, I will not be either! I let him help me off with my things and I am treated to warm sea air and sun on my bare skin. Skin that will burn to a crisp if I’m not careful!
“Let’s get this on you before that old San Diego sun has its way with you.” Bertie gently massages the suntan lotion into my skin, every inch of it. I do likewise with him – every inch of him. He smiles when I help him with *that* part too!
To my blushing surprise, I get a lot of whistles and thumbs up from my fellow beachgoers. They approve of a transgendered with them on the beach. Not a one of them makes a snide comment or anything. I suddenly feel as warm on the inside as I do on the outside!
“I think you’re a hit, Dollface!” Bertie says as he gently takes my hand and squeezes it. I love the gesture, it’s sweet and vaguely ‘possessive,’ heh heh.
“Oh, don’t start reading into things so much, you’ll give me an even more swollen head than I already have.” I bump him gently with my shoulder. Ooops! I nearly knocked him over!
“I’m sooo sorry, Baby! Awww . . .” I reach to steady him on his feet and he’s giggling like a twelve-year-old.
“Wow! My girlfriend the linebacker!” He laughs and I laugh with him. It’s true, despite everything I still have the muscle tone of a guy. That probably will always be there, but it’s not one of the things I care to lose anyway. Ha! Some of Sebastian’s details are very useful ones indeed. Unexpected masculine strength is probably the best one.
Before long I see we have turned away from the waterline and have started making a beeline for a large blue and green canopy. Just out from under the cover I see four bronzing figures laying out in a row on towels and I can vaguely make out two more under the cover.
As we get closer they become more recognizable as guys or rather guy-butts. They are all face down tanning their backsides like eight little dinner buns that are just about done.
“Hey, look! Four holes all in a row! I knew I should have brought my golf clubs!” Bertie observes facetiously.
They all turn in unison to see who dares to disturb the sanctity of their continued baking. Three of them look startled and one of them just looks confused.
Awww! They came down from San Francisco to visit!
“SABRINA!!!!” The smallest of the baked goods exclaims and immediately leaps at me, stupendous wiener wagging all the way. I never knew how well hung Jimmy was! I am quite shocked by this, truth be told.
He embraces me hard and squeezes, burying his sweet little buttered and fried face into my bosoms. Such a thing would usually be considered highly suggestive, but not in Jimmy’s case. There’s nothing sexual about his love for me. It’s pretty ‘pure’ I guess is the word.
“SabrinaSabrinaSabrina!!!” He continues his chant. I pat him on his amazingly muscular back which causes him to release me. Thankfully, I might add, as now I can breathe again.
“Ahhh! Sabrina! I’m so glad you could make it! I wasn’t sure you’d be up for it yet.” Brian says to me sincerely. It’s difficult, though, to take him seriously spread out like the main course at a pervert’s feast! Can he do anything without looking sexy?
“Oh, yeah! I’m good as gold now. You guys are turning darker than gold, though. You should tuck your buns under the cover before they get too over-crispy,” I admonish.
I see one of the new ones that I barely know the name of yet. I think he is Vic. My God, he looks good! That beautiful Italian skin just looks kissed by the sun! He gives me a white-toothy smiled ‘Hey!’. He seems a lot more relaxed than the last time I met him.
Next to him is someone I don’t know. He too smiles and nods, but I notice he looks me up and down a bit as if examining an alien for the first time. So, I ignore him after nodding to him and heading for the canopy.
This is where I see someone I did not ever think I’d see in full sunlight. I’m glad I have sunglasses on and I’m doubly glad he’s staying undercover too! Oh, be still my heart! I squeeze Bertie’s hand a little tighter and he knows this is hard for me so he squeezes back encouragingly.
He ventures out into the gleaming sun just for a moment to look at me. He has a look of verklempt joy as he sees me. I would love to see his eyes, but they are safely hidden behind Ray-Band Wayfarers that just make him look sooo beautifully cool!
His whiter than white skin causes him to glow in the sun like he has his own light coming from him somehow. We embrace a long time. It’s a hug we both needed more than air at the moment.
“Hello, my favourite Movie Star!” Snowflake says tenderly.
“Hi yourself, Blanco. You really are living up to that name today,” I answer a little bashfully.
“I have on a special sunscreen that Brian’s dermatologist friend got for me. It basically blocks all sun energy out.” Snowflake says in that thoroughly logical way he has of saying things.
“All well and good, my Ice Prince, but you’ll still melt if you stay too long in the sun. Me too actually. My tanning days seem to be over. Let’s get undercover.” I suggest to my beautiful friend. He, as always, complies with my sensibilities. Just like . . . old times.
We come under the canopy. It’s a nice one with a wide cover with one side exposed, sort of like a room with one big open picture window. Inside is lined with Moroccan designs. I was not expecting this fanciness just for a beach outing. Even the sand is covered with a fake Persian carpet. Incense burns in a pot next to a bong.
“This is . . .er . . . quite a setup, Blanco! This is just an outing to the beach. How did you get all this stuff here?” I really am amazed. This is a lot of stuff to hike down a cliff!
“Ah, Vic bought most of it. He likes to go to the beach like when he used to visit the Azores. He does not understand why every trip to the beach cannot be a brief time in paradise – or that is what he says. He has this packing thing down to an absolute science! I am truly amazed. Plus, it is a fine way for Brian and me to train as the hike down here and back up is great for leg and back strength!” Snowflake says enthusiastically.
Oh brother! Poor Brian!
“I’m glad those two do it cuz I might break a nail!” someone else says from somewhere in the recesses of Vic’s Bedouin tent affair. I center on the voice in the semi-darkness and take my vintage cat-eye sunglasses off. I see a very pretty little twink with blue hair on his head – and none anywhere else! His skin is nearly as pale as Snowflake’s, but I think in a way that says he’s more of a night creature than a snow creature. He’s more ‘peach’ than white if that makes any sense. He is sporadically decorated with striking tattoos all over his body in strategic areas. The twisted Celtic triangle on his chest is the most flamboyant. He also sports piercings on his nipples and belly button. These have aquamarine gems in them or at least cubic zirconia aquamarines. He very much looks the part of a slave boy in this Turkish sultan’s tent. I wonder where the leash and collar are kept?
“The censor is my contribution. I love my incense almost as much as I love my pot.” The little creature says with effeminate cheekiness as he draws a toke from his bong.
“And who might you be, Blue Boy?” I ask, rather more derisively than I mean to.
“Oh, so sorry!” He rises and again I’m astonished that this little twinky kid has a cock that could choke a horse! His skinny little sinuous body is lithe but soft. He seems to move like liquid sex. His sparkling pale blue eyes never leave mine. Such confidence or is that arrogance I see?
He reaches for my hand and shakes it lightly.
“I’m Mattie Hunter, Jim Gem’s boyfriend!” His smile is almost too perfect. I find myself cringing inside that he’s already given Jimmy a ‘pet’ name.
“Well! A pleasure to meet you, Mattie. I’m Sabrina, a long-time friend of Jimmy McVee’s.” I say his full name. I have a feeling it will be a revelation to Mr. Hunter here.
“Yes! I’ve heard a lot about you from Jim Gem. He likes you very much! I can see why now!” Did I just see this kid flutter his eyelashes at me? What the actual fuck?
“I must say . . . you are even more beautiful than Jimmy described! I’ve lived in San Francisco for most of my life and you are, without a doubt, the most beautiful TG I have ever seen!” The smile deepens and, despite myself, I find myself charmed by it. It seems sincere.
“TG?” I ask because that’s a new one on me.
“Oh, Transgendered. We call them TGs sometimes in San Francisco or at least I do.” He shrugs sheepishly. It’s adorable! God help me, I like this kid despite my gut feelings about him! He’s very good if he’s a complete con.
“How far along are you with the transitioning?” Mattie asks with amazing comprehension of ‘TG’ issues. I feel it’s somewhat too personal a question from a stranger, but then I have become used to the forward nature of San Francisco Gays. They are loose and free with a lot of things maybe they shouldn’t be, I’ve found. So, I answer:
“I am post-op, but mostly for cosmetic reasons. I have the implants in place and I’ve taken some hormone therapy, but right now I’ve bigger fish to fry than my transitioning.” I state for the record.
“What fish are you frying, if I may ask?” Mattie is as forward and incisive as a New York Times journalist. Why am I even talking to this stranger?
“That is enough, now, Mattie. Sabrina must be tired from the hike down. I’m so glad you could come to join us, Ms. Hollywood! Would you like some little sandwiches? I made them and put them in the ice chest! There is a nice beach lounger over there.” Snowflake’s turn toward domesticity puzzles me. I never thought of him as being. in any way, a Host with the Most, as it were. But, then Brian’s influence has brought out some astonishing new traits in my Blanquito.
“Oh gosh, Blanco, you don’t have to make such a fuss. I have to ask, how on earth did you get all this stuff down here again?” I am still perplexed by this. The hike down from the Glider Port above is daunting. I can’t imagine doing it with all this stuff packed away!
“Oh, well everyone chipped in and it took about five trips up and down, but we did it!” Snowflake beams. He then turns around and bends over to gather refreshments. I lay on my lounger staring like a perv at those two perfectly muscular white globes and neatly tucked and hairless butt cleft. I have to control myself! I can feel Little Sebastian stirring down there and there would be no hiding things.
To my rescue, Bertie comes in with the four other guys. Jimmy flops right down next to me all sparkling white grins and twinkling green eyes. His little body has gotten pretty toasty, but not burned thankfully. I still can’t help but be distracted by his incredible schlong! I’d really haven’t ever seen it before. I had no idea he was so – big! I’m still amazed!
Brian obscures my view of Snowflake’s perfect Michelangelo rump roast with his own bronzed buttocks. He gently pushes up against Snowflake who raises to a standing position with Brian clinging to him from behind. Brian grinds a bit against said rump roast and they kiss and – I’m not jealous in the least! Bertie sits in one of those folding beach chairs next to me that has San Diego Chargers on it and takes my hand. I look over and I see his warm brown eyes and that look of love and I lean in to kiss him. Bertie is the best kisser on planet earth!
After what seems a few seconds of necking, but what must have been only a few minutes, I open my eyes and see Bertie grinning at me like a mischievous kid. He’s looking over my shoulder and then at me and then nods his head to get me to turn around and look at something.
I do and I gasp! “Holy Studio 54!”
Gentle moans and smacking are all I hear and all I see are lovers all around me making out or more! I find myself suddenly in the middle of Sodom’s Den of Iniquity!
Not too far away from my feet, Jimmy and Mattie are basically wresting each other passionately on the carpet in full frottage. Somehow they don’t get so carried away that they start knocking things over rolling around like they are. Wow! To be young like THAT again!
Snowflake and Brian are somewhat more subdued, but not by much. They’ve found a folding chair wide enough and strong enough to support their combined weight and capable of letting Brian sit cowboy-style right in Blanco’s lap. They softly make out making only the most subtle of erotic movements with each other. They seem to love their kiss more than the pre-sex grind they are having. Rather than wanting to toss Brian off of Blanco and throw him out into the ocean, I rather marvel at the fact that I had Brian all wrong sexually. He’s a big old Bottom Boy from way back! A Power Bottom, but a bottom all the same.
Now, those four going at it is bad enough, but what the hunky Italian and the even hunkier long-haired blonde are doing is way past ‘making out’! I actually feel worried someone will come by and call the cops or something if they see this – then I remember this is Black’s Beach here. That’s probably not going to happen, especially when everything is being hidden by this giant Lawrence of Arabia set-piece they’ve set up.
Vic (his name IS Vic right?) is standing just inside the tent opening, breath heaving and eyes shut tight as he tries to bear the phenomenal blowjob he’s getting from the blonde. The blonde is kneeling in front of the Italian Stallion just sucking away and trying to keep his hair out of his face. Nobody will last long with that going on! I guess it’s meant to be a quicky!
I feel a warm teddy bear of a body slip in next to me on the lounger. I’m not entirely sure this thing can handle both of us, but it’s not too far to fall if things collapse so what the hell.
I turn in his arms and allow his body to rest partially on top of me and we resume our kissing and fondling.
Our afternoon from then on is a pure wonderland. There is something amazing about an orgy: everyone participating seems to find a new level of connection like some barriers have been removed and some secrets have been told.
I even find out that the beautiful long-haired blond dude that got Vic off in under three minutes with a leg-shaking orgasm is named Kris. He’s not such a bad sort, though I didn’t like how he was looking at me rather wolfishly for the remainder of the afternoon before sunset.
Sunset is . . . life-changing!
The orange burning sun turns the ocean into liquid gold and the surrounding sky into every flaming rosy color in the pastel color palette. Bertie and I just lie on the carpet together in the tent while the others go about picking this and that up and putting it away.
Before long Snowflake comes, bathing shorts on now, and kneels down and smiles at us both but with a touch of sadness.
“Time to go. Sorry. We have to make it back up the trail before night falls or we must leave this stuff here for the sea to take.” He looks so sad that he has to break up our short little time here in Heaven. But I nod and smile to let him know we understand.
Snowflake remains so gentle with me. There is love there still, but it is of a different kind. He is family, I guess. A brother from another mother, I suppose.
We dress and then help the others take down the tent and roll it and the carpet up. Somehow, with the expert packing skills of Snowflake, Kris, and especial Vic, everything is made to fit into three hiker’s backpacks. They must weigh a great deal, but Snowflake, Brian, and Kris shoulder them with relative ease. It’s bewitching to see their strong backs define themselves as they engage to bear the weight.
Jimmy has everyone drink a lot of water before going up saying that Brian says it’s important that we do it. Jimmy is so very proud to be taking instruction from a ‘real doctor’. He’s so adorably earnest about it. Sometimes my heart just fills to bursting when I’m exposed to Jimmy’s sweet disposition. Mattie assists by carrying the water bottles and Vic has gone ahead to get their van ready. We came in Bertie’s Honda Accord so we’re set for transportation.
“Where are we off to now, guys?” I ask and hoping against hope it’s somewhere we can get dinner. Not much eating was done this afternoon. None of the sandwiches were even touched!
With a bit of a huff and a puff, Brian says: “Going ~huff~ back down to Hillcrest. There’s a nice place there that we can all unwind and get something to ~puff~ eat and drink.” He says but leaves it at that.
“…tell you where…~huff~…like…~puff~…. Whoa! After…” Brian chugs more water but is having a bit of difficulty. More so than Snowflake and Kris.
I trot up behind him and take two of the folded and packaged beach chairs off of his backpacking rack. They have shoulder straps so I sling them over my shoulders. They all forget I’m probably bigger and stronger than Brian is in a lot of ways.
“Oh, that is much appreciated, Sabrina, but he really should carry those. It’s part of the training. He’s got to get his breathing endurance up for high altitudes.” Snowflake admonishes me. Brian glares at Snowflake evilly.
“That’s fine Blanco, I could use the exercise and Brian looked like he was about to keel over. I’ll take the chairs.” I say with my typical firm finality that Snowflake never argues with. He merely gives me that weird sideways nod that means ‘he disagrees but knows better than to argue the point.’
“Thanks, Sabrina. I owe you one.” Brian smiles back at me shyly. It is a look of pure humility that I never thought I’d ever see coming from “Mr. Macho”. Maybe my Snowman is licking away some of that rough outer coating. I totally mean that in a perverted way.
“Consider it a teeny bit of the payback I owe you for saving my misbegotten hide, Brian Baby,” I tell him with all sincerity.
“It was more than a pleasure, Sabrina. For reals.” His sapphire blue eyes twinkle a bit as he smiles back at me with honest happiness. His look lingers studying me and then he nods his approval that I have improved so much over the past few months.
“Good job, Sabrina! Very good job! I’m proud of you, Hon!” Brian beams at me with that killer smile of his.
What an amazing man Brian is. He is the perfect person for Blanco. Brian is strong where Snowflake isn’t. He is confident in a way that makes Snowflake feel more secure about himself. Brian also trusts Snowflake completely . . . even when Blanco doesn’t necessarily deserve it. Like when he’s making Brian carry the fucking tent AND big assed rug all by himself! I just noticed that.
I roll my eyes. Some things will NEVER change I guess…
“Here!” I’ll take the tent roll too!
“Sabrina!?” Snowflake gawps at me in complete shock and horror. I notice Brian visibly shake and gasp in relief as the weight is taken off of his poor back.
“Jerk!” I say to Snowflake as I stomp ahead with my burdens faster than all of them. Time is wasting! Light is fading and . . .
. . . I’m frigging STARVING!
Wow! Hillcrest has kind of gone downhill, dude! It used to be pretty happening. Now – -not so much. When I was 18 I used to get so much action down here! It was way better than Tijuana – fewer diseases for one thing and less diarrhea for another.
There was this 30-something-year-old Latino hunk named Manuel (Mahnneewell ~ oh FUCK yeah!) who always used to find me when I was down here. It’s like the dude had my scent or something or I just ended up going to the same bars all the time. They didn’t check the IDs as much back then. I think that’s what did a lot of the places in down here.
Manuel would always be at Suburban Jo’s, the center of all rainbows in San Diego. It was a different kind of gay bar from what I’d experienced in San Francisco in those days. It was more like a fag version of Cheers. Everyone knew your name or would know it soon if you stuck around long enough. Little blonde-headed twinks like I was would get known in all kinds of biblical ways really quickly at Jo’s. Interestingly, the gentlemen there were rarely ever rude about it or offensive toward me, but they always showed their definite interest!
Manuel won the bet, I guess. He’d always find me there when I came down for some Sun and Surf. He taught me so much about making love. I can’t imagine ever having a better sensei for sex. He fucked me slow and hard and constant and he always managed to raise my voice into squeals. Good ol’ Manuel! He never did me in bathrooms or outside near dumpsters or anywhere less than a nice hotel room with room service and a great bed. Manuel was a Spanish gentleman . . . with a gigantic dick!
Anyway, I loved that Jo’s had all ages and kinds all mixed together. Young and old, gay and lesbian, transvestite and transgendered with some straights too! Hillcrest seems to reflect the city it’s in. San Diego is a small town with a goiter condition. It’s much bigger than its culture, so small little ‘pocket universes’ eddy up in certain parts of town and strangely centralize. Hillcrest just happens to be the ‘Gay’ eddy.
I used to talk to an old-timer who had been living there since FDR was President. Fascinating old guy. His name was Peter and he was entirely gay but beyond the age of giving a damn anymore. He saw the place change from a small retirement community to an offshoot of the ‘issues’ Downtown San Diego had in the 70s to the ‘Gayborhood’ it is today.
He told me that the area’s gayness started around an old bar called ‘The Brass’ which used to be a Marine’s watering hole. I think word got out that certain young Marines would go there to ‘have fun’. So, it sort of became the first de-facto ‘gay bar’ in San Diego. He said there was and still is another place much closer to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot and the Naval Training Center called, mysteriously, ‘The Hole’. Even after he told me about what The Hole was notorious for I actually never went there. I heard it could get, um, scary sometimes.
From The Brass’s seed grew Sodom or ‘Gay Hillcrest’ if you prefer. Thanks to a combination of beautiful sunny weather, cheap housing, and a complete glut of the most gorgeous men in uniform any place has any right to have in one place, Hillcrest became a gay Mecca in Southern California.
It was right behind West Hollywood in that respect. LA’s gayness was and remains as legendary as Carey Grant and Rock Hudson. But, I never liked WeHo. I saw way too much tragedy there on my visits. The place used to just eat up young gay boys who came to LA to either ‘find fame’ or just because it was an easy bus-ride from whatever Baptist hell they’d come from in the Midwest. They’d come and find that the only work they could get was prostitution. So many got AIDS – ah, I don’t even want to remember it.
Hillcrest started out as a much more wholesome alternative to WeHo . . . for a while. But, then things got weird. It was about then that I stopped coming down to Hillcrest. I stayed up in San Francisco where things seemed to stay pretty constant. I can’t put my finger on what happened here in San Diego, but the gay community sort of just dispersed! Probably the high rents and mortgages in Hillcrest caused this diaspora. The place seems to be suffering from its own success.
But, there are reflections of the old Hillcrest still around. Suburban Jo’s is one of them. Peter is gone now and I haven’t seen Manuel in years. It’s new faces I see now. As I walk into the joint, 80s/Disco/EDM mashups pulsing in mad thumps, I feel almost like that 18-year-old again. It’s a fresh, brand new experience.
I walk in with my entourage in tow and ‘Maxxwell’ greets us. He seems to be a tiny 20-something with incredibly green hair mixed with pink and blue. I say seems, because God knows I can’t figure him out age-wise. He might be in his 30s for all of me, but he looks like he is about Jimmy’s age. He has a bit of scruff around his chin, but he’s as fem as they come. I think he has a touch of eyeliner on too.
Interestingly, we don’t get ogled at or ‘disturbed’ nearly as much as we did up at The Café on Castro. Snowflake gets some rather stunned looks, but no one approaches to cop a feel or anything. San Diegan gays seem to have more of a reserve where that’s concerned. It’s almost gentlemanly.
Maxxwell brings us all to a nice table on the inside as opposed to the smokey patio. It seems that the laws of California separating smokers from non-smokers are only grudgingly observed at Jo’s. That said, we are put far enough away for the smokers not to bother us.
I must say that Sabrina gets more looks than all of us. One man even comes up to her to kiss her hand and congratulate her for something. Whatever it is, it seems to make her blush and makes Albert smile appreciatively at the guy. Jo’s seems to have a fair number of transgendered or transitioning people now – more so than before. It’s rather a new and refreshing group to be around. I will have to look over the UCSD medical gazetteer again to see who is doing transition operations in San Diego. It’s possible that they have gotten together a ‘dream team’ for that too. San Diego is one of the worlds leading centers of new medical technologies. It would make sense, being that there are so many biotech companies headquartered in San Diego, that a sex change operation center would exist and probably be a top-notch one.
Sofia comes around to take our drink orders. She is a lovely and sweetly mama-like lady. She is a born female and would seem out of place anywhere else in Gaydom but here at Jo’s. She’s a Mexican American lady with long black hair, a heart-shaped face, a little bit of a gut, and stupendous boobies. Her smile could even melt Snowflake after he’s seen a Russian win a cross-country skiing heat!
She gives us all hugs and that winning smile. She even gives Jimmy a kiss on the cheek and ruffs his hair. Jimmy, sweetheart that he is, blushes and giggles at this. I swear Sofia must be ‘Mom’ to a lot of young gay guys who come here. She must be! This is my first experience with her and she is a welcome change and so very . . . San Diegan! I think I’m seeing the future here in a way. A place where everyone comes, no judgments, with only friendly faces for everyone no matter who they are.
Christ, I got to stop thinking this way or I’ll start crying! What a fucking pansy I am! It’s like the Gay community has finally arrived and we aren’t ‘weird’ anymore!
Anyway, we all order rounds of their ‘Kick-Ass Margarita’ which is neon blue and comes with an assortment of liquors, not just tequila. I have a feeling we’re all going to be completely fucked after just one round of these. I see we are situated near the dance floor which is on the other side of us over the bar.
We’re here at about 9 PM and the dance floor is already revving up. The DJ is off and running and playing to a mostly empty dance floor at the moment. The light show is fairly spectacular considering Jo’s isn’t really a nightclub and just a bar with a dance floor. They have even installed those ‘digiscreen’ things that show pictures of flames and shit. I am impressed since I don’t remember anything this fancy from my visits before. Video screens also line the walls and generally show video montages of whatever musician the DJ is playing at the moment.
Jo’s has become, kind of, like Castro’s QBar in that respect. No wonder I feel so at home here! I wonder if they have a loft upstairs to fuck in?
Something moves like light-speed behind us and I see someone draped over Albert’s neck. Albert turns and is laughing his ass off as he makes reference to a guy named ‘Scott,’ the name of his apparent assailant.
“BITCH! You sure took a goddamned long enough time getting the fuck back down here, Berto! Where the FUCK have you been? I haven’t seen you since the first Clinton was president!” says Scott.
Scott looks to be in his late 40s or early 50s. He has short-cropped hair that is just short of being a buzz cut. He has piercing blue eyes and a nice, NICE body! He wears a pink flamingo T-shirt since the bar’s mascot seems to be the pink flamingo. They are hanging all over the place in honor of Pride, I guess.
“Oh, you know, I go where the work takes me, Scotty. I’ve missed you guys though. You’re right, it’s been way too long since last I was down here. Jo’s is looking great!” Albert responds like he’d just talked to Scott yesterday. Like decades have not passed since they both talked to one another apparently. I barely remember the ‘first Clinton’!
“We just did a massive renovation that finished last year. The new patio, the new dance floor . . .” Scott points around to all the ‘new’ things that I barely noticed upon walking in. But, my memory of places is not so great. I’m more of a people person.
“You’re being kind of rude, Scott, buddy. You haven’t let me introduce you to my friends and . . . more than friends here.” Albert looks at Sabrina with a longing sigh. She looks back with the same tenderness, mixed with a kind of shyness I’d not seen in her before this. I have to wonder what Snowflake is thinking about all this between ‘Bertie’ and Sabrina. I look over at him and he is just smiling – rather vacantly I might add.
I sense mental overstimulation on my Snow Plow’s part. He gets that stupefied look when he is getting a bit overwhelmed. Hopefully, the drinks will come out soon so he can focus on something a bit more potent than the whirl of emotions and activities going on around him right now.
I reach over and squeeze his knee to snap him out of it a bit and this causes him to turn to look at me. The vacancy sign immediately turns off and he gets this soft look about those crystal eyes.
That look that says ‘I love you’. He squeezes my hand and I squeeze it back. I then quickly grab his package and squeeze that too! He jumps enough to make his chair squeak! Hehehe!
“~gasp~ Oeek! Unhand me, sir! You are about to eat with that hand after all!” Snowflake says with this adorable mock offense and lightly smacks my hand. The glitter of silliness in his eyes cracks me the hell up!
“What? What’s so funny? What did you do Bri Bri? Whaat?” Jimmy insists with a giggle!
“Ahem! These two are Brian Chesney and Jusse Halla, who we all call lovingly ‘Snowflake’ because well . . .” Albert gestures toward Snowflake to unsay apparently what does not need to be said.
Scott shakes our hands and holds Snowflake’s a bit longer than mine.
“Because ‘well’ what, Berto? Because this one’s cute and so’s the other one? Well, go ahead and say it for crap sake! You might be ‘straight’ as fuck, but you gotta know what’s good lookin’ when you see it!” Scott does not see Snowflake as ‘odd’ at all and that warms my heart! My Baby has a hard time with that I’ve come to find. He absolutely has no idea how beautiful he is . . . in all ways!
Scott then smiles at us both and then looks around at all the others. “As a matter of fact, like, wow! You never had this kind of pull, back in the day, Berto! These guys are like way over-classing my humble establishment here!” Scott’s smile is genuinely infectious and we all find ourselves laughing despite ourselves even though what he says is just mildly funny.
“It can’t be you so it must be . . . ” and Scott leans in to take Sabrina’s hand and kiss it gently. “. . . this little lady! Sweetheart, you need to come in here on Dreamgirls Wednesday. You’d be the centerpiece! You are fucking drop-dead gorgeous!” His smile is half-cocked as he sort of leers. But, I have a feeling his cock is fully cocked.
“Okay, okay! Hands off my squeeze, you turkey! This one’s MINE!” Albert playfully bats Scott’s hands away from Sabrina who is smiling and blushing adorably. Snowflake is chortling at her in a way a brother does when his sister has something embarrassing done to her.
“Oh hush you!” Sabrina throws a napkin at Snowflake.
“Speaking of Drop Dead Gorgeous . . .!” Scott centers his eyes on Snowflake again who suddenly sinks lower in his chair.
“Where have you been all my life, Handsome? Although, I think this would have to be a group thing, Sweetie, coz . . . damn! ” He looks to me and the rest of us. Kris is grinning, Vic is kind of smirking, Jimmy looks apoplectic and Mattie rolls his eyes.
“I should hire ALL Y’ALL as my rotating Go-Go Boys! Holy fuck, all I need to do is convince Al over here to dance on stage as our ‘Daddy Bear’ and I’d have all 31 Flavors of gayness with you bunch! You guys are AMAZING!” Scott gushes.
I introduce the rest of us finding Scott between breaths so I can get a word in edge-wise: “Here’s Vic Camarada, Kris Sørensen, Jimmy McVee, and Mattie Hunter.”
“Nice to meat – I mean, meet you guys!” Scott laughs.
Sofia comes around and glares sardonically at Scott in a way of saying: ‘I’d like to take these orders if you please, Boss.’ Scott laughs at Sofia.
“Ok, Soffee. You’re right! Business is business and pleasure is business too so. . .” He comes up to her and hugs her and whispers something in her ear to which she smiles and nods.
As Sofia takes our food orders a handsome young bartender comes over with two glasses. He has slightly reddish curly hair and wears very tight shorts and the obligatory Jo’s flamingo T-Shirt. He winks at me and smiles as he sets the glowing blue drink in front of me.
“These are on the house, Sweetie. Boss’s orders! Let me know if you want anything else. . . like *anything* else!” He winks at me and informs me that his name is Ryan. He is obviously the senior bartender at the inside bar (there’s another larger bar on the big patio area) because his half-naked assistant comes with the other drinks. The assistant is blonde and is wearing what looks like his underpants and that’s it. Hehehehe! Jimmy’s eyes pop out of his head at seeing the little guy. He’s kind of short but, he has nice tone!
“Thanks, Jonathan!” Ryan calls to his little friend who scurries away back to the patio bar where I think he was borrowed from. Ryan waves at us all and then allows his warm hazel eyes to linger on mine until I feel a kiss on my cheek. I turn and Snowflake is there right in my face and then his lips and mine connect. Ha! He’s so territorial!
I hear a wolf-whistle and look over at three older gentlemen at the bar giving us a thumbs up. I really could get to love this place if I ever had to move down to San Diego. Hopefully, I won’t though. I am a Giants fan!
Our food arrives and it’s all just terrific! That I do remember – Jo’s has always been perhaps the best place to eat in Hillcrest. That’s saying a lot because Hillcrest has become San Diego’s foodie paradise from the looks of all the chic hipster restaurants all over the place.
After we finally finish with everything and are pretty wasted on the blue margaritas and then the tequila shots and then the jello shots, we manage to wobble our way over to the dance floor and ‘dance’. Our drunken dancing is more like lurching and trying not to fall down while we laugh our asses off, but everyone has fun.
At the end of our evening together we use Uber to return to the Town and Country resort in San Diego’s Mission Valley. It’s a kind of mid-century, old-fashioned ‘family’ place, but it has good prices and the rooms are really nice. The swimming pools are to die for too!
Snowflake and I don’t really do much more than take showers (alone) and then pile into bed together. No sex. Just snuggles to sleep off Jo’s so we can be ready for the Pride Parade in the morning. I love San Diego’s Pride. It’s so honest! It’s also long! The festival goes on for three whole days!
I have found that Snowflake and I actually enjoy snuggling together in bed as much as sex. We usually work off the sexual tension first just so we can get to snuggling! It’s kind of a backwards experience for me as I’ve always been out for the sex with other guys, but with my Snow Angel, sex is wonderful, but not the best part!
The best part is being the little spoon to his big spoon!
I love it more than anything, just like I love my Snowflake more than life!
I awoke to the familiar warmth of my chosen soul-mate. He was still quite asleep. This was not unexpected as I had him do a lion’s share of the physical labour yesterday when transporting items from Vic’s van to the shore. He was very ready and willing to do all these things that I asked of him knowing that:
- It was part of his comprehensive Olympic training programme that we are doing.
- He loves to show off for me. Hehehehe!
I could not begrudge Sabrina her assistance though. It warmed my heart to see her strength returned to her. She has always been amazingly strong and I think this is why she has survived all that she has been through in her troubled life.
This latest problem with her addiction relapse and OD is just one example of her fantastic strength. She has sprung back and I credit Albert with this as much as anybody!
It should hurt a bit that she found love so readily in Albert’s arms, but then that would make me a hypocrite of the worst kind. When Brian and I collided, Sabrina was the one that was crushed between us. But, though I felt guilt for my sudden change of heart, I would not give Brian up . . . even for my ‘Favourite Movie Star’.
I suppose my loyalty is questionable, but then Sabrina and I were not under any vows written or spoken. Her relapse may have been triggered by our sudden break-up, but it was not the cause of it. Sabrina had been fighting a great deal of depression from her repeated rejections for the gender corrective surgery that she so desperately wants and needs.
Brian’s coming was just ill-timed, I suppose. But, then, would there ever have been a good time for Sabrina? This had to happen so that she could find Albert who was the one meant for her all along.
The old tapestries that the Norns weave are so intricate at times. Often to get a knot right, a string has to be stretched to its limits. I have certainly had my share of ‘stretchings’. But, I am grateful for them now since they have led me to Brian. We both needed to be stretched so that our knot could be tied together. I hope our knot never becomes untied. I do not think it will, but I am not naïve enough to think that the knot will not be pulled at by other strings or that our knot will be enmeshed with another’s silver filament.
Our relationship shall be tested and I sense it will be sooner than later. We have become mixed with many new people very quickly. I am still trying to figure them all out and how they play in the relationship between Brian and me.
Kris Sørensen concerns me most. I am terrified about how much he attracts me sexually! I fear it may come from a bit of narcissism on my part. Kris is from a similar world as I am. It is not completely, but it is much closer, in its way, than is America. He would be like making love to myself, in a way. As twisted as this may sound, it is actually a driving force for sexual attraction. Like attracts like, as the old saying goes.
Old sayings bring to mind my Grandpapa who would perhaps recognise Kris as related to our people and a part of our culture. Finns the Hallas are and Finns the Hallas will always be, but Finns the Hallas were not always! We were part of peoples that came from Norway many ages ago, or so my Grandpapa said.
My Grandpapa would often talk to me about our lineage. He would call us ‘Originals’ which I didn’t understand then and I still do not completely understand today. But, it would seem that our family was a part of a people that would traverse the Forever White from Norway to Finland and back as nomads. We are not Sami as we were never part of those people. We also never learned the Sami language, any of us. My Grandpapa did speak ‘Kven’ which was just another dialect of Finnish. It apparently was used by Finns who migrated to Norway over one hundred years ago, but it also, supposedly, goes back further in time to an older Finnish that was spoken during the Vikings time by a ‘Northern Nobility’ that had no other name. My Grandpapa was also fluent in Norwegian and he taught me that language as well as Kven. We often spoke Kven, Finnish, and Norwegian all in one sentence when we spoke together! My mother did not approve which made it even more fun to speak this way with my Grandpapa. It was our special ‘secret’ language.
Grandpapa also told me that we had a lot of Viking blood in our makeup. He would recount sagas passed down from those times that spoke of interactions with our people along the coasts. Apparently, rather than fighting the Vikings, we would join them on raids!
Our family and, I suppose, our people (wherever they are now I do not know), made extensive use of skis to travel. Cross-country skiing, then, really goes very far back for me and my family. My special Rune Skis are relics of those times. My Grandpapa gave those to me since my father could not use them. My father had lost a leg in the military and so could not use skis back then. He could have now if he had lived because prosthetics are so well done now.
Well, in connection to Kris, as said, my family has ties to Norway in the northern part of the country. His family comes from up there too. Also, we both speak each other’s languages, which is very unusual. Most Norwegians do not speak Finnish. They think it is too ‘hard’. Hehehehe!
So, such familiarity is difficult to ignore in someone who is that handsome and who, astoundingly, is also gay. Not too many Norwegian skiers are ‘Out’ like Kris. So, yes – he is a possible snarl in my beautiful knot with Brian.
I see the new blossoming relationship between Kris and Vic as somewhat convenient. Kris has managed to make himself a part of our little circle. I fear he is making use of Vic to get to me, which would be a terrible shame as Vic would make a much better boyfriend than I ever could, even if I was not already in love with Brian. Vic is beauty and charm personified and yet, there is also a vulnerability there that is so endearing. Vic could truly love and love deeply if given half the chance. Kris would be blind to break himself off from Vic to pursue me in an attempt to take me away from Brian. He would lose both of us and through Brian possibly soil his dating pool in San Francisco for the rest of his youth.
Another odd development is the instant attachment Jimmy has formed with this Mattie person. Mattie makes me most uneasy for Jimmy’s sake. Jimmy’s open heart and naïveté leave him so very open to damage. He is the exact opposite of me in that respect. My heart is like a frozen apple within my chest that takes the nuclear heat of Brian’s fierce love to melt. Jimmy’s . . . lays exposed in his open ribcage beating for all to see. I cannot see that as a strength. To have one’s most vulnerable part exposed to anyone to do anything with frightens me worse than death!
Mattie seems so very cool and sly. He also tends to be most manipulative, goading Jimmy into things and always having him do things Mattie’s way. I fear Mattie is using Jimmy as a boy-toy and will leave him aside when Mattie becomes bored with Jimmy. Jimmy’s heart will be broken all over again. As amazingly resilient as he is, I do not know what another such blow will do to my little friend.
Alas, I do tend to worry seemingly needlessly over things I probably know nothing about. I am ever so cautious, I suppose. Perhaps, I am too much so. I am probably being paranoid about Kris and Mattie. Neither has really given me any clear evidence that they are not just new friends who are lovers of our other friends. I have no reservations about Albert, why should I for Kris and Mattie?
But, this paranoia is why I have had a frozen heart for so very long. My time with Tristan taught me to become hardened and cold to protect me from the memory of what happened to him. It has made me suspicious, hard, and jealous . . . as well as prone to despair!
But, my greatest fear is failing Brian! I would surely die if I broke Brian’s heart of hearts. So I worry!
In any case, we are currently enjoying the Pride Parade today in San Diego, this most beautiful of cities! A place so alien to my native land as to be any Finnish child’s winter fantasy of Heaven or Oz! This place almost seems unreal to me! The sun always shines and yet the sea cools the air so pleasantly. It is a pleasure just to stand and merely exist here!
Unfortunately, for me and my complexion, such pleasure comes at the price of an awful, AWFUL sunburn if I do not cover up in the special sunblock Brian got for me from his dermatologist friend at UC San Francisco. I also have to wear a large hat and cover myself in my jumpsuit while everyone else gets to go ‘bare as they dare’ as Brian says.
As we stand watching the parade members go by and cheer each organisation they represent, I do find that I feel a sense of pride in myself and for my lover and my friends. We are gay, transgendered, bi, straight – whatever, but we all love each other and want the best for each other and our world.
This pride is such a far cry from what I grew up with having to fend off accusations about being effeminate because of my looks and disposition. Part of that shame became the energy I needed to drive myself to Olympic heights in my chosen sport. It was a way to prove to them that I was, in fact, a MAN! That it didn’t matter what my preferences were, I was strong and I could compete with the best of them!
Then I became the best of them!
Now, as of today, as I stand here beside my beloved within the embrace of my friends and this community, I can now be proud of who I am as a person and not just what I can do on a pair of skis.
I have heard Brian refer to Hillcrest as ‘Sodom’. Seeing how this place is and the love this place creates, I find I have to question God’s wisdom should He ever want to ‘smite’ this place for its ‘sins’ as He did the Sodom of Palestine. I should think that would be a cosmic crime coming from the most ignorant of ‘holy’ judgments.
Fortunately, I believe in a God of love and not in the words and writings of ancient men filled with fear and hatred.
I believe God is very proud of all of us here in this parade! We really do love our neighbours . . . in all kinds of ways!