The Phoenix: The Fire Consumes Me
by Londonboy
This story will only please if you are a hopeless romantic. Be forewarned.
I have always laughed at all those chance meetings and coincidences that are the mainstay of most romantic comedies. They always seemed so contrived and almost like a lazy man’s path to true love. Real life was simply not that predictable or that lucky. Some would say I was jaded and some would say I was realistic. I would merely say I was wrong. A chance meeting – one that defied all the odds – brought me the love of my life. I became one of those hopeless romantics – real life forced me to change my ways.
I met Chance on a rainy afternoon in Santa Monica, California. I know you’re saying the name is made up, especially because of the set up for my confession, but it was truly his name. Chance Robert Stevenson, the third – no kidding. There are two other men in the world with that same unbelievable name. To this day that thought makes me smile. The other two, of course, don’t have the nickname Cha Cha – that’s only reserved for my particular Chance.
I had ducked into the Sur La Table store at the end of the long outdoor promenade near my home, to wait out the storm. While looking around I walked over to the Nespresso machines to see if I would finally cave in and buy one. I had refused to even think about it for so long, mainly because my coffee maker worked perfectly and my love for Starbuck’s Italian Roast seemed to always get me going in the morning just fine. Why did I need a machine that made every cup perfectly, but required you to buy the pods of coffee only from this particular company? I could see the logic from an economic standpoint for the company, but it seemed like it kind of restricted the consumer too much. There were three other people listening to the young sales clerk giving the demonstration. I had seen the machine’s abilities many times, but there was something about the young lady’s enthusiasm this time that proved to be the tipping point. I was ready to buy the one that had the frother attached – and added bonus. Unfortunately, there was only one silver one left in the store and one of the other people gathered for the demonstration wanted the exact model as me. I noticed the other guy at this point, noting that the other two people had obviously been a married couple that were really only there to get a free espresso. The sweet clerk was very apologetic about there being only one machine and she guaranteed that they could get another one delivered the next day. I’m the kind of guy that likes to win, so I had already decided that the other guy would be the one to come back the next day.
“I guess it’s only fair that I get this machine since I was here first.”
This comment immediately put me on the defensive and made me finally really look at my competitor for the first time. The guy was my age, around thirty-four or so, and basically the same size, about five-nine or ten. That was were all similarities ended, however, since he was dressed in a beautiful Armani suit, while I stood there in designer jeans and a nice button down from Banana Republic. I looked at his face and was pleasantly surprised by how I instantly found the guy attractive – dark hair, blue eyes, and incredible plump lips. Everything about this guy screamed gay, but I had learned early in Santa Monica that the town was full of metrosexuals. I didn’t assume anything – I merely appreciated the wrapping on the outside.
“That might be true, but you originally asked about the machine without the frother. I was the only one interested in that particular model and I think that actually makes me first in line for that specific machine. Don’t you agree?”
“You must be a lawyer, sir.”
“And by the way you are dressed I can only assume you are in ‘the business.’ Am I right, sir?”
He smiled and nodded his head. I was taken with him as soon as his lips parted in a big smile and his perfectly straight pearly whites reflected the fluorescent lights in the store. I also felt a stirring beneath my belt, a feeling that had been unfamiliar for about half a year. My time-consuming work as partner in a law firm basically prevented me from dating. I forced imagined pictures of the guy naked out of my head and returned to our conversation. My foe seemed to have hatched a new plan.
“What would you say if I suggested that you let me buy the machine and then I would invite you over to have coffee? Then, in the morning, we could come here and pick up your machine.”
“Are you asking me out?”
“No, I’m actually asking you to spend the night at my place and have coffee in the morning.”
This made the cute sales clerk gasp and she moved quickly away – totally shocked. I watched her walk away and then I turned back to Mr. Armani. I looked at him more closely and was impressed by what I found – that handsome face with a slight five o’clock stubble, a diamond stud in one ear, and cologne that made me want to lick his neck. I was smitten, for sure, but too many smooth operators had hurt me in the past for me to fall for the guy just from one cute invitation.
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Only when the prize is worth fighting for.”
“All this just for a Nespresso machine?”
“No, all this for you. I could care less about the machine. You walked in here tonight looking like a drenched puppy and I immediately knew I’d like to wake up in the morning and have coffee with you. Fighting you for the machine was simply a way to meet you. My name is Chance. Chance Robert Stevenson, the third.”
“The third? Other people have that name? That’s a mouthful!”
“And then some.”
The obvious reference to his endowment made me look south – below what was surely a two hundred dollar belt. I was not disappointed. His package was clearly in the more than ample category – and I realized he wasn’t even fully hard. I could feel my face turning red. I had never been approached in this manner – it was flattering and disconcerting at the same time. My mind was spinning, but I somehow registered that the store’s music track was playing Sam Harris’ version of ‘My Funny Valentine.’ I was sure this was an omen of some kind – since it was my favorite song. I allowed myself to fall completely under the spell of Chance Stevenson.
“I’m James. James Norman.”
“Nice to meet you, James. And what about my offer? Care to come to my place for dinner and then stay so we can test out the machine in the morning? I can promise you the sex will definitely top the wonders of the Nespresso machine.”
“I only take my morning coffee in bed.”
“That’s no problem.”
Chance bought the machine, getting much joy from the still shocked face of our young clerk. I found myself on fire with anticipation and lust for this former competitor = now my date for the evening. I was happy to give him the machine, since I was going to his place for a night of lovemaking, even though it was presently only about six in the evening. Chance had a condo about two blocks from the store and we decided to take our time and walk to his place in the rain – not caring about getting wet. When we got to his beautiful three-leveled home we quickly made our way to the bedroom and made what can only be described as sweet and wild sex. We both seemed to automatically know what the other person needed and we satisfied in ways that were almost too mysterious to fathom. Later, we ordered Chinese food and sat nude before his fireplace feeding each other with chopsticks. It was a magical evening, one that is still embedded in my memory all these years later.
We made love three more times that night and in the morning I was gently awakened and served a perfect cup of espresso. I called in sick for the first time in my career and Chance did the same thing. We alternated between making love and drinking coffee for the next thirty-six hours. I never did go back to Sur La Table and buy my own machine. Within three months we moved in together – his place - and started our life as a couple. During the brief moment when marriages were possible in California we flew to San Francisco and pledged our love to each other. We paid for about forty people to join us and made it the most exciting weekend of our lives. I cried like a baby during the ceremony – mainly because I had never known such joy.
We bought a house north of Montana Avenue in Santa Monica, something that seemed to say we had made it and lived as comfortably as was possible for two gay men in southern California. And that was saying a lot. We even began to discuss adoption – something that was important to Chance, but totally new to my thinking. Our combined salaries were enough to help us live contently – we traveled to many places of interest – Europe, Asia, South America, and Australia. We certainly had disagreements, as did any couple, but we always worked through them like adults and found ways to solve the issues that made both of us happy. I constantly searched for new ways to please him – no matter how much he begged me not to. I became totally selfless when it came to Chance and he felt the same way about me. He even encouraged me in ways that I didn’t anticipate – my silent desires concerning my body were a great example. Once, when we were sitting in a hot tub in Mendoza he stared at me intently.
“You really should join a gym and build up your body. I think you’d respond to lifting – maybe even end up like a pro-bodybuilder - finally getting really big.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Maybe, but consider it, please. I’d love to see what you’d look like all massive.”
“You and your fetish for muscles. I will consider it, kind sir. I promise.”
But I never acted on his suggestion. I was too busy with the idea of making money and pleasing the man in my life. Mr. Chance Stevenson never wanted for anything. Birthdays, Christmas, Valentines, and any other celebration was cause for me to shower him with gifts. I was blessed with presents in the same fashion. We somehow remembered every little thing that was ever mentioned by our husband and turned that into gifts that thrilled the other beyond belief – paintings, the latest technical gadget, travel packages, and so much more. I never knew two people could love each other so much – I was constantly trying to find ways to make Chance happy and I knew he was doing the same. We were in total bliss for five years, much more happiness than most people get in a lifetime.
I was sitting at my desk, eating a terrible calorie laden lunch when my secretary buzzed my phone and told me she was sorry to interrupt my break, but I needed to take the call. It was a highway patrolman on the phone and as soon as he asked me if I was James Norman I figured out why he was calling. I listened as he told me there had been a terrible accident on the Pacific Coast Highway and Mr. Chance Stevenson has died when his car was hit head-on by a drunk driver – at two in the afternoon. I thanked the officer for the call and took the information on where I should come immediately to confirm that the body was Chance. I hung up the phone and cried out so loudly that my secretary came in to comfort me. I remember almost nothing of the next few weeks – identifying the body, planning the funeral, and moving into a life without the love of my life.