Innuendo by R.D. Zimmerman Page A

attractive man with the light hair watched as the white Saab pulled away from the curb and sped off into the night. Wearing a rust-colored cotton coat and clutching a camera, he peered suspiciously around a thick oak, saw the red taillights shooting away, and he said to himself, Okay, remember this. Remember this because something important just happened. Did that guy just throw what you think he did into the lake?
    He'd been there the entire time, hidden by the trees and wondering just what in the hell that other guy, the bald one, was up to. In the faint light from the streetlights he'd taken note of the large, muscular man in the shiny black leather coat. And at first he'd presumed the other had come down here to cruise these woods, like the handful of other men lurking among these trees tonight. But, no, the bald man had instead crossed the road and gone straight down to the small beach. And then…
    Behind him he now heard the snap of a twig, which sounded so jarring in the night shadows. He turned, saw a bush, a tree. And finally eyes. They burned out of the darkness, focused straight on him. The light-haired man stared back, and a moment later a man emerged out of the pool of blackness. The other was of medium build, not trim but not fat either, and he wore a dark suit, white shirt, and tie. Nice-enough-looking, too, with thick eyebrows and chestnut brown hair and what looked like a heavy beard. His mouth was pinched tight, his face taut, even tense, and he looked almost angry, but of course he was merely hungry, his body famished with lust. The younger one had seen him earlier, their eyes had caught when he'd first made his way in here. He'd seen the wedding ring too. Some exec, he presumed, who'd probably told his wife he'd be working late tonight. Probably made a couple of hundred thou’, had two kids, a dog. And while the wife might one day suspect her husband of screwing his secretary, she'd probably never imagine that he was instead down here screwing the boys.
    Shit, he thought, feeling his heart suddenly tighten. He's just my type. But, no, not tonight.
    Diverting his eyes, he slipped his camera inside his coat and turned away, abandoning any pretext of interest. Carefully and purposefully not looking back so as not to encourage the other, the young man moved out of the woods in two quick steps, then dashed to the left and hurried off to his car.

9
     
    Was the idea of a gay relationship ludicrous? Impossible?
    Immediately after speaking with Jordy, Todd bypassed the station and returned to his apartment, a two-bedroom condo on the fifteenth floor of a high-rise with killer views of Lake Calhoun. Usually hesitant to drink alone because of the alcoholism that had run so freely in his family he poured himself a large glass of cabernet just moments after he walked in the door. He was desperate for something to slow his thoughts, if not his heart, and he stood at the sliding glass balcony door, peering into the night and thinking only: What the fuck was Jordy talking about?
    Not long ago Todd had seen something on CNN about sexuality and the sexes, and it now came back to haunt him with the thought that a relationship between two men could never work. According to the report, which was done to explain the sundry interests of none other than the President, a man's evolutionary duty was to spread his seed far and wide, while a woman's was to guard her future, i.e., the offspring. In scientific terms that made sense, he thought, but how did it apply to two gay men? And did it mean that by their very nature they were doubly destined to sleep around?
    Todd took a long, deep swallow of red wine, then turned and wandered over to the black leather couch that was the main fixture of the living room. He dropped himself into the deep cushions and thought how the heterosexual role model that his parents had provided him as a kid was certainly nothing to rave about. In fact, it was all but a lie. His father had been a drinker,