Kiss and Tell

Kiss and Tell By R.W. Clinger Burke Alexander Spire wanted it to snow outside, but the springtime sun hung steadily in the bright sky, beaming down golden rays of June light across his sloping backyard next to Lake Erie. Unfortunately, the temperature peeked at almost eighty degrees with some mild wind. By evening, he knew rain would hit; a springtime storm expected to blow down from Canada, over Erie, then through his lakeside town of Channing, Pennsylvania. He guessed there would be a tornado warning, just like every June spent along Lake Erie, forty-two years and counting. As far as he knew, there wasn’t a weather record detailing snowfall in June. Although he knew it was unlikely to snow, he still wanted it to, craving the cold winter months and relishing the hellish ice and winds. Like others who enjoyed winter over summer, he accepted the sunshine, stared out the A-frame’s kitchen window, and admired the lake’s rolling waves, a blanket of grays, blues, and thick greens. Almost noon, and he yawned, already maybe needing a nap. He thought about taking a ten-mile run, but didn’t feel up to it. He also thought about eating, but he really wasn’t hungry. Rather, his mouth felt dry, and he decided to have a drink, something made from scratch in his kitchen, worth the labor: vodka, iced tea, a squeeze of lemon, ice, and a gentle splash of ginger ale. After creating the beverage, he drank half of it. It numbed his soul, and he attempted to smile. He couldn’t bring himself to accomplish the difficult task, at least not yet. Two months ago, things were different in Burke’s life. He got out of bed at six o’clock in the morning, showered, shaved, and enjoyed a cup of java with ten pages of a Clive Cussler novel. Thereafter, he climbed into his Jeep Wrangler, drove the ten miles into Erie, and sat behind a desk for nine straight hours at Tuner & Dyson Accounting. There, he analyzed and summarized clients’ profit margins. For twenty years, he had worked for T&D as an accountant, concentrating on sustainability factors, growth margins, passive income, debentures, and taxable municipal bonds. Exhausting years. Years and years Burke felt he would never get back. Life was different now. Extraordinary. Unbelievable. Burke no longer needed to get up in the morning if he didn’t want to. He no longer needed to clean his A-frame, wash his Jeep, or cook. Things had turned a different corner in his life ever since he walked into the convenience store on the corners of Bitner and Daye and purchased a state lottery ticket with six numbers: 39, 29, 1, 8, 19, 48. April 21. A day he would never forget. Never. All six numbers hit, and he walked away with a little over forty-three million dollars that rainy evening, state taxes already subtracted from the winnings. Of course, he made the trip to Harrisburg to sign for the money and arrange payments to his savings account. Of course, he quit his job the following day and flew to Talum, Mexico, where he spent an entire month, basking in the Gulf’s sun. Of course, he hadn’t told his older sister, father, and his Aunt Stephanie about the win, keeping the information to himself. Set for life, he never needed to work another day in what he had now called his Whatever Life. Of course. * * * * Burke had always been lucky. Never failed. For as long he could remember. In second grade at Channing Elementary, he had Mrs. Mercantile as a teacher instead of the villainous and reptilian-like Mrs. Dasher. In middle school, he became athletic and swam, participated on the track team, and wrestled. During his last year at Channing High School, when he had just turned eighteen, he kissed the most handsome, jockish, and “oh, the girls loved him” guy, the prom king of the year, Chris Siren. Blessed with intelligence, Burke obtained a college scholarship at Templeton College, a small school with a decent accounting program. There, living on campus with a wrestling stud named Eddie Harper, he obtained his accounting degree, slept with “straight” Eddie more times than he could count, and learned all about s*x, alcohol, social drug use, and rock and roll. More luck walked into Burke’s life over the next few years: underwear modeling for Branch Models, accounting position at T&D, more underwear modeling with Branch, and a long-term relationship with the hottest cowboy from Oklahoma, Derrick Menderson. Derrick Menderson. A name Burke hadn’t forgotten throughout the years and wouldn’t anytime soon. Derrick, with his rugged jaw line covered in dark scruff, six-three frame developed with all muscle, glinting green eyes that looked almost boyish, brown military cut, English-sloped nose. Thick cords along his neck popped every time he spoke. The cowboy owned a bull ranch in Stockton County. Comfortably wealthy. One of the best lovers Burke had slept with. Big in all the right areas. Caring Derrick. A sweetheart. Burke had spent the later years of his twenties and early years of his thirties carrying out a romantic relationship with the cowboy. Both flew back and forth to visit each other, sharing long weekends. And both were faithful during the seven-year relationship. Burke recalled his time with Derrick as physical more than emotional, though. The rough and hot s*x with the rancher proved more robust and memorable than Burke’s sentiments for the man. Truth told, the s*x should have been filmed and sold. It would have made quite the sum of money for the pair. Yes, Burke had fallen in love with Derrick. But love could only last for so long in some situations. Both men became exhausted traveling back and forth for the s*x, and the relationship mutually dissolved. Derrick stayed in touch via email and f*******:. The cowboy now lived with two other cowboys, Jett and Sam, and the three were lovers, happy together. As for Burke, he quit modeling at thirty-four, feeling old. He fell into his accounting role and hadn’t met a lover since. He had a few short-term relationships in the past few years: Connor, the electrician with his big d**k; Dolby, the pianist with his little d**k; Josh Timber, the hippie who thought he was half-bear because of his hairy chest and face. Although lucky, finding a soul mate proved difficult for Burke. Now at forty-two, he didn’t believe a soul mate existed in the world.