The parking lot was nearly empty for a Saturday morning. The sky was grey and overcast. Gary was ten minutes late, but there was no sign of Steve's van. Maybe he'd run into some traffic. OK; no problem, he thought. He'd just re-check the dive gear in the trunk until Steve got there. Anyway, it was a chance to be seen in his drysuit.
Gary got off when other men stared at him wearing that drysuit in public. He had put it on at the apartment, then loaded the car with scuba gear, not caring whether the neighbors noticed. On the freeway, he'd driven with the window down and his arm out and, once or twice, he saw guys doing a double-take while passing. The black rubber of his Viking military-style suit shined even on a cloudy day like today. Straight men stared--gawked sometimes--and Gary knew that, just maybe, they weren't so straight after all.
So he parked near the beach, backed into a space nearest the water, got out of the car, opened the trunk and made sure he'd brought everything. Hell, he'd brought at least TWO of nearly everything: jetfins, full-face masks, full 72s,...enough for an amphibious assault...if Steve would just get his ass here! Steve was a new guy at the office and Gary thought their mutual interest in diving would be an ice-breaker for getting acquainted, but now it looked--half an hour after their meeting time--that Steve would be a no-show. Guess this gear won't get wet today, Gary thought.
He must have been scanning the horizon too intently, watching for the van. Funny how you can look for something so specific that you don't notice other important things, 'cause there was a guy on the bench under the tree about fifty yards to his left and the guy was clearly checking him out. About five-foot-ten, forty-something, he guessed, bearded but with a shaved head, wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. The guy saw that Gary had noticed being noticed and quickly turned away, but the cat was out of the bag. "Cat and Mouse" is a fun game, especially when you don't know which is which.
Gary left the trunk open--the mousetrap, he thought wickedly--and went back to sit in the driver's seat, but this time with the door open wide and his legs--the bait?--stretched out into the next parking space; then he just waited. Maybe Steve will show up, he thought, but after fifteen minutes of furtive glances between him and the guy (who he had decided the name "The Guy"), Gary didn't care whether Steve ever got there. OK, he thought, he's curious and I'm curious. Who's gonna make the next move?
It was "The Guy" who did it. He stood up, stretched, and walked slowly in Gary's direction. "Nice day," he said, trying to be nonchallant, but doing a pretty miserable job of it. "Doesn't look like a great day for a dive. Gonna rain." OK, the ice hadn't broken, but it was beginning to crack. "I was going to say that rain could ruin your dive, but I suppose the point is to get that gear REALLY wet, isn't it" They both laughed. The ice was definitely breaking up.
"Well, the day could be totally screwed if my dive buddy doesn't get his ass here pretty soon." The first move had been made, so Gary picked up the ball. "You a diver?" he asked, hoping the answer would be an enthusiastic "Yes!" but The Guy only shook his head.
"Took lessons when I was in high school but my folks moved mid-term before I got certified and that was umpteen years ago." The Guy was standing directly in front of Gary but it was obvious that he wanted a gander into the trunk...at all that gear. "Looks like things have got a lot more complicated since 'Sea Hunt,'" he said, moving towards what you could only describe as Gary's mobile dive shop!
"Yeah, I suppose it has, especially in the last couple years. Every guy wants to be Arnold in 'True Lies.' Tek diving is getting to be pretty commonplace, though." Not wanting to admit that he didn't know what the hell "tek" meant, The Guy just nodded and Gary thought it was time for this new acquaintance to be more than just The Guy. "So, what's your name?"
A big grin flashed across his face. "You won't believe it but the name's Mike...Mike Nelson. I can prove it if you want to see my driver's license; really. Maybe that's why I watched so much 'Sea Hunt' and wanted to be a diver. Sorry now that it didn't happen," as he cautiously picked up one of Gary's favorite fins, the ScubaPro jetfin, and flexxed the blade in his big hands. Not big really, but meaty, Gary thought; this guy--no, his name's Mike--is what you'd describe as a Bear, and a shy one at that.
"It's never too late, you know. There are courses at the Y all the time. I even assist in teaching one of them." A flicker of Mike's left eyebrow let Gary know that he didn't need to say the next thing, but he said it anyway. "You should think about getting your C-card. Let's talk about it over coffee. I can keep an eye out for Steve from that diner across the road."
Gary wasn't usually so pushy, but Mike is obviously interested in diving--which is Gary's part-time job, after all--and he had to admit, this man is attractive in many ways: maybe ten years older, a Bear, real "big brother" material. Go for it, he thought,...and, besides, it gave him a chance to walk into that diner wearing his drysuit.
The waitress had seen divers before, so Gary's suit was nothing new. Coffee arrived, then more and more of it, and then a piece of pie, as these two strangers became real to one another. Mike worked in broadcasting--camera man at a local TV station. He was 48, divorced (that caused a flutter in Gary's stomach), and every bit the shy and gentle Bear that Gary had suspected. "Got family?" he asked out of genuine interest.
"Not much any more. Parents are both gone now and I don't have brothers or sisters. Makes for a short Christmas list. How about you?"
"Oh, I've got an older brother, Alan, about your age, but we were never very close. He's an accountant across town and holidays with him and his family are about as much fun as an IRS audit. Don't get me wrong; I love him, but we just don't have much in common." After a long pause, Gary added, "There are a lot of things about me that he doesn't approve...." He decided to let it go at that.
Still no sign of Steve, and Mike's questions about diving and Gary's gear were getting more animated. What the hell; why not pop the Big Question: "Wanna go for a quick dive today? Think about it as the last lesson you missed in high school."
Another Big-Bear grin beamed from Mike's face. "If you're pulling my chain, I'm gonna have to hurt you big time," he joked and started reaching for his wallet. "Coffee's on me, if you're serious." And if it didn't go any farther than that, Gary would be very happy.
In less time than it takes to tell, they were back across the street and the trunk was open, bulging with more interesting stuff than Mike had ever seen so close. That wasn't all that was bulging, but Mike hoped Gary hadn't noticed the erection he now wore along with his smile. Too late: Gary noticed.
Mike asked about drysuits; they seemed so baggy compared to older form-fitting neoprene wetsuits. Gary's crash course in drysuit diving took place on the grass near where he had first seen Mike, The Guy. He unrolled a second drysuit--a Nokia all-black military suit similar to his own--and explained how to put it on. The park was still quiet, so Mike didn't feel very selfconscious when he stripped down to his shorts, stepped into the suit one beefy leg at a time and pulled it up to his waist--except for that hardon. He had tried to turn away and be discreet but, frankly, it just wasn't working. "Don't worry about that woody; everybody gets one putting these suckers on." That didn't make it any easier.
"Here. Let me zip you in and you can do the same for me." Gary asked Mike to bend slightly forward and stretch his arms in an arc; he admired Mike's broad shoulders as the zipper slowly sealed him into the stiff black rubber suit. Then Mike turned the tables, zipped Gary up and enjoyed the sense of reciprocity between to divers...two men...as they helped one another, did things and, in turn, had them done. There was something symmetrical about it, mutual, the way things ought to be. His high school course was a pretty dim memory, but it was NOTHING like this. Mike began to realize why they call them dive "buddies."
The two of them walked out into the water, letting the increasing pressure help to purge their suits of air. Standing face to face with the hoods up and the dry gloves on, they didn't say too much; just wondered what the other was thinking. Back out of the water, Mike liked the way the suit had formed itself to his body, emphasizing his bearishness...and that damned erection. But he felt less selfconscious, 'cause it was evident that Gary had one too! "Okay. Let's get you into a mask, snorkel, and some fins. Try those jetfins you were looking at before. They're big, but so are you, buddy." Buddy, Mike thought; it sounded good.
"Here. Let me lean on you while I put the fins on." Gary liked the familiarity of this physical contact and, apparently, so did Mike. Fins on, masks in place, they flip-flopped back into the water and snorkeled for quite a while, nothing said between them; just glances to make sure they weren't too far apart. Mike was a good swimmer and felt pretty comfortable in the water, but he also liked Gary's "mother hen" way of keeping a careful eye on his new student. He could learn a lot from this man.
Mike enjoyed looking at the aquatic life around and under him, sandy bottom giving way to plant life and hundreds of small fish. Gradually, he also realized how much he enjoyed watching the "other" sea life: Gary, who moved so easily beneath him, like an otter, pumping the water with those giant fins. Two or three times they bumped into each other--accidentally?--and Mike found his hand reaching out to brush over Gary's rubber-suited body as it passed. He wondered if Gary felt him. After about a half hour of horseplay, Gary motioned for them to head back to shore. It was time for scuba and Gary could hardly hold back his excitement. Finally.
