Brian walked about the tropical garden of the Phillips Conservatory, dodging a banana tree and stopping near a travelers’ palm. He loved coming here on his recent visits to Pittsburgh. Arthur Watson taught piano at Carnegie Tech, so during the school year, Brian had to travel on the Northwestern line across the state to see him.
“Sir, may I help you?” The guard looked at him with a question in his eyes and an exclamation mark on his eyebrows. People were always asking Brian if they could help him. Did he look perpetually lost? Did he just look out of place? He knew he dressed differently than others – bright colors most of the time, an oddity when men wore black suits, high starched-collared shirts and the women wore frilly white blouses up to their necks and long, black skirts.
“No, I’m simply admiring the plants and trees.” Brian knew the guard was suspicious of him. He didn’t blame him. He’d been wandering about Phillips Conservatory for two hours, waiting for Arthur to join him.
The affair had started well enough. Great sex, lots of laughs, lots of music together. Over time, though, after two years, the sex had gotten stale, they’d gotten bored with each other’s jokes, and hardly ever dueted together. Brian knew his time was coming to an end with Arthur. So why wait so long at the Phillips Conservatory for him?
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