Page 81 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 51

He marveled that the bodybuilder and he thought so much the same.
“Sometimes I think,” Ryan said, “you can read my mind.” Kick had an
edge. He had known of Ryan O’Hara long before Ryan had ever heard of
Kick Sorensen. Kick had read Ryan’s writing in Maneuvers. He read the
lines and he read between the lines. He figured he knew Ryan. Kick had
something to say. He wanted Ryan to say it. He was too reserved to blow
his own horn. He wanted Ryan to articulate the meaning of his muscular
body.
He was more than meat.
He was a sculptor.
He needed an agent.
His plan seemed simple. Until that first El Lay night when the click
between them turned Kick around to something, well, more personal.
He suddenly felt silly as a starlet pursuing a press agent. He suddenly felt
like Arnold Schwarzenegger falling for Woody Allen. Never wanting to
do the right thing for the wrong reason, Kick had descended by helicopter
on Ryan. He had planned to confess, “I set out to use you, but instead, I
love you.” When he opened his mouth, he said simply, “I love you.” If he
had said, “I wanted to use you,” Ryan would have said, “You can use me
till you use me up.” But he hadn’t and the fast bloom of their relationship
surprised them both.
“Nobody,” Kick said, “has ever treated me better than you. You sur-
prise me. You understand me. I’ve never allowed anyone in so close to me.”
The ongoing suspense of Kick gradually revealing his magnificent
self excited Ryan. One evening before sex, one of the few times in their
three years together when they went somewhere other than to bed, they
attended Evita. Ryan placed his hand on Kick’s muscular arm when Patti
LuPone, playing the thrill-seeking Eva Peron, sang about the Argentine
peasants to her Magnus Bishop, Mandy Patinkin’s Che: “They must have
excitement, and so must I!” Kick was the hero of a hundred tricks, a
thousand faces, a million revelations to hear Ryan tell it.
“Almost every night,” Ryan wrote to Kick, “we conjure this thing, this
power, the Entity between us, and we never lose ourselves.”
Kick wrote back on stationery with the letterhead of The Daily Planet.
“You’re the most fun I’ve ever had.”
Ryan glowed.
Appearing nightly in his bed was the man all of San Francisco wanted
in the sack.
Kick equaled Ryan in his twists on musclesex. Kick liked bondage,
not so much the constraint as the drama. He liked the mythological feel

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