Page 26 of Out of the Storm

“Running a radio station was mine. Not so much the teaching.”

“Teaching?”

“Yeah, I teach a few math courses. Intro ones. You know, the classes that primarily exist to weed out the kids who won’t be able to handle their eventual science or engineering coursework.”

Jeff scrunched up his face. Gary Graham was a math teacher?

“Really? Math?”

“Calculus.”

“You?!”

“Now, why’s that so hard to believe?”

“I’ve only ever known you as the radio manwith the bad music.”

Gary scoffed into the phone. “Wow. Thanks. Well, I play fewer bad records as a teacher. I tend toward math humor instead of food humor too.”

“Math humor? Wow, your students probably hate you.”

“Eh, I think they tolerate me okay. I make my exams pretty easy.”

“Why math?”

“Math’s easy for me. I wanted something easy.” Jeff found himself smiling even more. Not only was Gary Graham really fucking cute, but he was smart too. “I’d have probably taught high school if I hadn’t weaseled my way into being permitted to teach a couple of these college courses each year. But then I wouldn’t have had the time for the radio. And the radio by itself, well, I’d never make enough money with such limited hours. I’d have had to work from sunup to sundown. Now, I know it may not seem like it, but being a radio show personality takes a lot out of me. Twelve or more hours of that each day by myself? I’d be burning the candle at both ends. Or, hell, tossing the whole stick into the fire. I tell ya, I wouldn’t last aweek.”

It was nice to listen to Gary talk about himself for a change. Jeff liked listening to Gary talk about real shit, not just filling up his radio time with something inane, likewhat’s better on a hot dog—cheese or mustard?He wanted to keep listening to therealGary Graham talk about hisreallife.

“What’s teaching like?” Jeff asked, hoping Gary’d take the bait and open up some more so that Jeff could listen to him ramble in that radio-ready voice of his.

And, thankfully, that was exactly what happened. Gary launched into a monologue—one with a lot of silly interjections like “boy howdy”—and Jeff was plenty happy to close his eyes and listen. Gary had a surprising amount to say about teaching. He seemed to like it, which had the strange consequence of makingJeff’s chest warm and tingly, like maybe... maybe he was happy for Gary’s happiness.

Then Gary started talking about the radio station, and how his dream had been to start up a station of his own, be his own boss, that sort of thing. He wanted people to like him, to count on him, to appreciate him. More than that, though, he wanted to feel connected to everyone in town.

Jeff smiled to himself. Must be nice, chasing your passion, and then, fuck, really reaching it.Holdingit.Havingit. What must that have been like? For yourwantsto becomehaves? Over the last couple of years, Jeff had been chasing storms whenever he could take the time off to travel, and yet, it wasn’t really the storms he had been trying to reach. Because as much as he enjoyed seeing the tornadoes, storm chasing was something that calmed him, that helped him cope with what was happening in his head.

What hereallywanted, he’d probably never have.

For the next two hours, he and Gary continued to talk on the phone. About music. And math. And movies. Nothing important, really. And yet...

God, it was wonderful.

After they hung up, Jeff scrambled back up into his bed, taking the pillow and blanket with him, and as soon as he was comfortable, his hand found his half-hard cock. Thinking of Gary’s bright-green eyes and that big fucking smile of his, it wasn’t long before Jeff was completely erect. After pushing his briefs past his knees, he started to stroke himself in earnest, losing himself to fantasy. He thought about what Gary might look like beneath him. Running his hand up his shaft, Jeff imagined what it’d be like to finger him, to watch Gary lose himself to pleasure. He wanted to make Gary come for him, and then he wanted to kiss him and touch him and make him hard again. And then,God, he wantedto fuck him, to make him come a second time, and he wanted to make it so incredible that Gary’d still beg for more.

Closing his eyes, Jeff tried to imagine Gary saying the things he so badly wanted to hear.

“Geez, Jeff, you’re so fucking good.”

He moved his hand faster, his toes starting to curl.

“Harder, Jeff. Make me come.”

With a low moan, Jeff came over his fist. Calming from his orgasm, he lay staring at the ceiling, breathing ragged, feeling like complete and utter shit. Because no matter how much he liked Gary, they’d never be anything more than what they already were.

***

Two weeks later, in the middle of March, Jeff was nursing a beer while listening to Gary’s radio program. Only two minutes were left before the end of the show. Soon, Gary would share some kind of bullshit factoid—one he knew Jeff would have to correct him on—and then Jeff would call. Both of them knew this was a game. But that was fine. Whatever kept them talking.

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