Page 229 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 199

Ryan wondered about his own motives. If he held Kick back, then all
the nights they had played sexually with muscle fantasies, about Kick’s
championship physique, would be a lie. He had to keep on keeping on.
“I’m not saying it’s right because everyone takes steroids,” Kick said.
“I’m saying that because everyone does take them, I have to take them to
be competitive.”
“You always said you liked communication more than competition.”
“I do. But to communicate on an even more impressive level, I first
have to compete to win that credibility.”
“I want,” Ryan said, and he dissembled a bit, torn between his love
for Kick and his love for Kick’s muscles, “whatever you want. I can’t say
no to you. You’ve said only yes to me. All along. I want...”
“Yes?” Kick pulled Ryan on into his sweat-sweet armpit, hugging his
head into the deep valley where his massive arm tied into his broad shoul-
der, his deep back, and his full pecs.
Ryan was lost and found in this contradiction of a man. Who was he
to stop Kick from going all the way with his lifelong dream which was so
like his own?
“Let’s,” Ryan said, his voice muffled against Kick’s hairy chest, “take
it to the limit.”
Ryan wrote in his Journal,

Super Bowl Sunday, January 21, 1979: I know him now, but
very soon everyone will know him. This thing with January is
turning into a big deal. Television turns everything into Some-
thing. She’ll be taping Kick training for his next contest. Atten-
tion is being paid to him. I wasn’t wrong when I knew from the
start what he could do. What we could do together.
Kick’s at the beginning of some great recognition. I like that.
I like the verification from expert physique judges that I’ve been
really correct in encouraging him on to competition. Not com-
petition really. Comparison. Communication through muscle. I
want to watch other men enjoy what I have enjoyed so intimately.
No jealousy in that.
The looks and lust of other men are validation that once in
my life, we two have met equally and are creating what we want
more than anything. Energy comes from both sides. He calls me
his coach. He flatters me. I love him for it. I think he could do
alone what we do; but if he could, why has he stayed so long and
pleasured me so much?

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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