Husband Hunters

Chapter 2-3

They each grabbed a cup of Seattle’s civic beverage, coffee, thoughtfully provided by Starbucks, and found a seat on one of the folding chairs set up around the perimeter of the room. There was a low hum in the space, the music of masculine voices all intermingled, punctuated every so often by a young Asian man, dressed in chinos and a turtleneck, both beige, who would step up to a microphone at the front of the room and call out a number. He would then lead one of the aspiring Husband Hunters stars out of the ballroom.

Cody observed the latest man to be called. “Probably leading him off, never to be seen or heard from again. This is an elaborate scheme to exterminate the homos. They’ve probably got a gas chamber set up.”

Matt rolled his eyes and then snickered. “You’re nuts, you know that?”

Cody put up his hands in a gesture of defenselessness. “I never claimed otherwise. It’s why you hang out with me, isn’t it?”

Matt grinned, looking sheepish. “You got me.”

They stretched their legs out before them. Cody said, “It’ll probably be a while before we’re called.”

“Yeah. I wonder what they do when they take you away. Really—I mean, besides kill you.” Matt laughed, and then his eyes glazed over as his thoughts went somewhere far away. Cody braced himself for something bizarre. When Matt got that faraway look in his eye, something weird usually followed. “Yeah. I imagine they take you to some office where this hot producer guy is waiting. He’s about six two, 185 muscular pounds, with one of those California tans. He’s got a full head of hair, dark, but it’s buzzed, military or cop style. Turquoise eyes. Maybe a couple of tattoos. Tribal.”

“Turquoise eyes? Dude, no one has turquoise eyes.”

“Shut up. I’m fantasizing. It’ll help pass the time.” Matt swallowed and then went on. “He’s got, like, a blue shadow along his jawline—heavy stubble. A nine o’clock shadow. He’s wearing a light blue shirt, and it’s open halfway down to reveal his lightly hairy chest. The pecs are firm and tight. He’s sitting in one of those desk chairs that recline, and he’s leaning back with his muscular thighs spread, grinning. Inviting.”

“This sounds like a porno.” Cody sipped his coffee. “I can just hear the cheesy soundtrack music.”

“I know, right?” Matt went on, “And as part of the audition, we have to suck his c**k. To completion. It’s important, you know, because if a gay man isn’t a good cocksucker, what kind of husband would he be?”

“To completion? What is he? Superman? There are easily a couple hundred guys here, maybe more. How many times can this guy come?” Cody snickered. He drained his coffee cup. “I’m gonna go get more. You want anything?”

Matt stared at him, dazed, and Cody laughed because it looked as though Matt had just awakened from a dream. Cody supposed he had.

“Wait. I didn’t tell you the best part!”

Cody held up a finger. “One sec. This I have to hear.”

He hurried to get a second cup of coffee, making eyes at the Jesse Williams lookalike, who was pondering which pastry to take. It looked like he was trying to choose between a Top Pot maple bar or an apple fritter. Cody couldn’t help himself. “Good Lord. You look like that and you can still eat sugar? I hate you!”

The guy chuckled and picked up a maple bar, bit into it, and looked at Cody over the pastry with those amazing pale eyes. “Mmmmm…”

Cody shook his head and hurried away, feeling himself grow hard.

He sat back down next to Matt, and Matt started off with: “After I suck him off, he then makes me—” But the fantasy came to an abrupt halt when Cody heard his number called. He put up a hand to silence his friend so he could listen over the hum of voices.

“Number 113! Number 113, please follow me.” The Asian man was already moving away from the microphone.

“That’s me!” Cody shouted. He felt himself grow a little faint, a little weak in the knees. He swore his heart was double-timing.

“Well, go on!”

Matt looked—What? Angry? Disappointed? What’s up with that? Ah, he’s probably just mad because I got called first. And so soon…

Cody stood, staring back at Matt helplessly.

Matt shooed him away. “Just go with the nice man. I can’t come with you or hold your hand. You’ll be okay. Go on, now.”

“Really?” Cody asked, desperate. If Matt wasn’t there to witness it, Cody thought he would sprint from the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the guy step up to the mic again. Good. He’s probably going to call someone else.

“Hey, 113! Last call for 113.” The man scanned the room.

Cody felt Matt stand behind him, and then Matt gave him a push. “Go on. I want you to go and then report back with all the questions they ask so I can really shine.”

Cody still was tempted to bolt for the door but then realized the man at the mic had witnessed the shove and Cody’s resulting stumble. He felt like a fool. So instead of bolting, he followed. He was sure the grin he quickly plastered on his face looked nothing more than sickly.

And he was glad. He didn’t want to do this stupid show anyway.

He followed the Asian man from the ballroom. Once they were outside, the guy introduced himself, extending his hand. “I’m Marc. How are you today?”

“Peachy,” Cody replied. “What’s gonna happen to me?”

For once in his life, he hoped he wasn’t going to have to blow somebody. Damn you, Matt.