Read People in Trouble for Free Online

trimmed but full, and white hair poked out of the top of his shirt.
     
    They had worked together like guys work; quietly, no gossip, just moving their bodies at the right times and understanding each other's rhythms.   They took very good care of each other, running errands, sharing cigarettes and barely talking.
     
    When it was time to focus and they were finally down to the last light, Carl came and stood next to him.   Peter could feel the old man's body heat with his torso, and the heat of the light with his hands.
     
    "Would you move that slightly upstage please, darling?"   Carl said with a quiet growl.
     
    At the word darling, Peter took his hands from the electricity and put them on Carl's soft, soft face, kissing his mouth.   He was meaty and large compared to Kate or any woman.   There was something to hold on to.   They pressed their bodies against each other's and Peter felt his cock get hard against Carl's.   It was such a beautiful feeling; two men and two cocks, both scented and of the same mind.   When Peter tried to blow Carl, the old man's dick swelled in his mouth and Peter gagged on it, feeling a sour spit rising in his throat.
     
    "That's all right," Carl said kindly.   "Use your hands."
     
    Then they sat naked next to each other on the stage eating sandwiches, not talking.   Peter sat there smelling him, looking at his cock against his thigh, looking at the old man's eyes and the veins in his legs.
     
    Then Carl turned to him and said, "You are not just lighting the action and the image.   You are lighting the voices.   You give them light to hear by.   What could be more subtly defined than differing dimensions of air?"
     
    After paying the restaurant check, Peter decided that he wanted to be around gay people more.   Kate was probably spending more time with them and he wanted to, too.   It would bring them closer together.   That's what had been troubling him all week, actually.   Kate and that woman had clearly had a fight.   He could tell from the pained expression she tried to hide.   She was sour sometimes, with a particular distaste that only comes from longing for a lover.   He was honestly curious to hear the details, to know the scenario of their fight and separation, to comfort her.
     
    But after having fully imagined Kate's tearful confidence about her lost girlfriend, he realized that such an event would reduce his stature in her eyes to that of friend or brother and not the husband he was determined to be.   It was better to wait patiently for Molly to simply disappear.   Then Peter decided to go into the church.
     
    The huge marbled ceilings made it cooler inside.   It was cool but the air was still.   Peter stayed in the back because he was a tourist, and had learned from traveling in Mexico that when you are watching another culture in church it is best to stand in the back.   There was music coming from the balcony but it wasn't the organ he had expected.
     
    Instead a harpsichord was being played.   Perhaps the dead man had been a harpsichord fan.   Peter guessed that homosexuals were probably as creative with their funerals as they were with everything else.   But after a while he found the instrument's tone annoying.   Pounding was half the sound and much too abrasive for a funeral.   He inhaled the incense and felt again how still the air was.   It barely circulated.
     
    The smell was beginning to be overpowering, stifling actually.
     
    Peter felt faint and sat down abruptly in the nearest pew.   Even though he tried repeatedly to relax, he just couldn't breathe.   His lungs would not fill with air, so he left as quietly and respectfully as he had come, stepping back into an almost oppressive heat, only able to take a full deep breath a few blocks away.
     
    When he got back to the apartment late that afternoon, Kate had just returned from the studio and had brought home her coveralls to be washed.   They were laid out over the dresser