Glenn started it on his Mercury orbit with voodoo fairy lights zipping around his head, and a bunch of the other boys jumped on the bandwagon. Most of them couldn’t go up there without thinking they saw some alien whatever. It’s nonsense.”
Frankie thought of the photograph of Clark shaking John Glenn’s hand, and Glenn’s inscription.
“Lovell and Aldrin?” Clark continued. “You know what they were looking at when they cried UFO? Their own jettisoned trash bags. If that had been me, and reporters had been allowed to question me about it, I’d be ashamed to show my face. ‘I saw a UFO! I saw a UFO!’ Please.”
“Buzz Aldrin gave you the moon rock,” Frankie said.
“Yeah. Well.” Clark snubbed out his cigarette in a plastic ashtray. “Even a loony can give a nice present.”
They weighed themselves again before leaving. Clark paid the bill. On the drive back to Cocoa, in the backseat of the Trans Am, Frankie decided he was still attracted to Clark, but no longer liked him. There was something mean about him. As for his opinions on the UFO sightings, he was just—wrong. In their driveway, Frankie thanked them both for dinner and started to say good night, but instead of shaking the hand he held out, Clark said, “Whoa, buddy, what’s the hurry? Don’t you want to come inside?”
“What for?”
Pepper looked out over the river and adjusted the purse hanging from her shoulder.
Clark shrugged. “Wild times. A little excitement.”
Frankie looked at Clark in the moonlight. His solid shoulders, his treadmill-tended waist. The shaggy brown hair falling over his forehead.
“Come on in,” the astronaut said, nodding toward the house.
He sat in the living room on the sofa and accepted the beer Pepper offered him. He’d never drunk alcohol before, but stepping over the threshold into the house for the second time felt like crossing a border into another country, where a whole new set of rules and customs existed. The beer tasted awful, but he drank it, while Pepper sat next to him and talked about the kindergarteners she taught and Clark drank another bourbon and smoked, standing next to the picture window. Clark’s mood had changed. A redness had come over his face, and he stared at Frankie as if he might not even want him there. But when he’d taken the last swallow of his drink, he nodded toward him and said, “Why don’t you chug that thing and the three of us go upstairs?”
Frankie followed them up the staircase. Expect nothing, he told himself, even as he became aroused. This is a tour of the house. Clark’s a realtor, after all. Maybe they’re selling the place. But Pepper led them into the master bedroom, where she turned around and smiled and said to him, “If you’re not comfortable with this, that’s okay. You just tell us. But I thought I’d take my clothes off now.”
Frankie felt Clark’s hand rest on his shoulder.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Pepper asked.
“No,” Frankie said.
“Do you want to take yours off?” She asked this in a polite way that really did seem to leave the matter open.
“Okay,” Frankie said.
“How about you, Clark?”
“Why not,” Clark said, releasing Frankie’s shoulder. He began to unbutton his shirt.
Pepper moved slowly but efficiently; she was naked in what seemed like no time. Frankie liked her body as a scientific wonder: the movement of her breasts as she bent to pull back the bedspread; the patch of hair between her legs. He matched Clark item for item, pacing himself against the astronaut’s progress, and by the time he was naked, his dick was sticking straight up against his belly. Clark’s was soft and hanging like a third ball.
“You look sexy,” Pepper told Frankie. “Do you want to lie down here with me?”
“What about Clark?” Frankie asked.
“I’ll be in this chair,” Clark said and dropped down into a floral-patterned, wingback chair in the corner.
Frankie hesitated, watching him.
“Come lie down
Frankie thought of the photograph of Clark shaking John Glenn’s hand, and Glenn’s inscription.
“Lovell and Aldrin?” Clark continued. “You know what they were looking at when they cried UFO? Their own jettisoned trash bags. If that had been me, and reporters had been allowed to question me about it, I’d be ashamed to show my face. ‘I saw a UFO! I saw a UFO!’ Please.”
“Buzz Aldrin gave you the moon rock,” Frankie said.
“Yeah. Well.” Clark snubbed out his cigarette in a plastic ashtray. “Even a loony can give a nice present.”
They weighed themselves again before leaving. Clark paid the bill. On the drive back to Cocoa, in the backseat of the Trans Am, Frankie decided he was still attracted to Clark, but no longer liked him. There was something mean about him. As for his opinions on the UFO sightings, he was just—wrong. In their driveway, Frankie thanked them both for dinner and started to say good night, but instead of shaking the hand he held out, Clark said, “Whoa, buddy, what’s the hurry? Don’t you want to come inside?”
“What for?”
Pepper looked out over the river and adjusted the purse hanging from her shoulder.
Clark shrugged. “Wild times. A little excitement.”
Frankie looked at Clark in the moonlight. His solid shoulders, his treadmill-tended waist. The shaggy brown hair falling over his forehead.
“Come on in,” the astronaut said, nodding toward the house.
He sat in the living room on the sofa and accepted the beer Pepper offered him. He’d never drunk alcohol before, but stepping over the threshold into the house for the second time felt like crossing a border into another country, where a whole new set of rules and customs existed. The beer tasted awful, but he drank it, while Pepper sat next to him and talked about the kindergarteners she taught and Clark drank another bourbon and smoked, standing next to the picture window. Clark’s mood had changed. A redness had come over his face, and he stared at Frankie as if he might not even want him there. But when he’d taken the last swallow of his drink, he nodded toward him and said, “Why don’t you chug that thing and the three of us go upstairs?”
Frankie followed them up the staircase. Expect nothing, he told himself, even as he became aroused. This is a tour of the house. Clark’s a realtor, after all. Maybe they’re selling the place. But Pepper led them into the master bedroom, where she turned around and smiled and said to him, “If you’re not comfortable with this, that’s okay. You just tell us. But I thought I’d take my clothes off now.”
Frankie felt Clark’s hand rest on his shoulder.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Pepper asked.
“No,” Frankie said.
“Do you want to take yours off?” She asked this in a polite way that really did seem to leave the matter open.
“Okay,” Frankie said.
“How about you, Clark?”
“Why not,” Clark said, releasing Frankie’s shoulder. He began to unbutton his shirt.
Pepper moved slowly but efficiently; she was naked in what seemed like no time. Frankie liked her body as a scientific wonder: the movement of her breasts as she bent to pull back the bedspread; the patch of hair between her legs. He matched Clark item for item, pacing himself against the astronaut’s progress, and by the time he was naked, his dick was sticking straight up against his belly. Clark’s was soft and hanging like a third ball.
“You look sexy,” Pepper told Frankie. “Do you want to lie down here with me?”
“What about Clark?” Frankie asked.
“I’ll be in this chair,” Clark said and dropped down into a floral-patterned, wingback chair in the corner.
Frankie hesitated, watching him.
“Come lie down
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