Brent Collins, a new professor in the music department of a mid-western university, makes friends quickly among his students and his colleagues. A traumatic experience in high school has him determined to stay celibate in his personal life. However, his resolve is tested when he meets the very sexy and slightly older Gabe Sutton.
Although Gabe is happy in his work as an electrician for the college’s Buildings and Grounds crew, he’s less happy with his love life. He’s had brief flings with a few men, but none have been worth coming out of the closet for. That is, until a new French horn professor joins the faculty.
Though Brent and Gabe are careful not to be seen in public together often, rumors begin to spread, as does a series of electrical failures on work orders Gabe has completed. Someone is out to discredit Gabe, but who? Will these incidents cause the spark of Gabe’s and Brent’s budding romance to fizzle out, or will exposing the wrongdoer bring their duet into ever closer harmony?
As I walked back to my office, I was amazed anyone here knew about my playing. I'd perhaps mentioned somewhere in my vita I played horn, but I was so focused on music history I certainly didn't emphasize it. Yet the dean or someone must have been in touch with someone back in New York. Well, great! I was really looking forward to playing with three other hornists and the symphony.
It was a hectic fall. I tried to get to all the individual student recitals and the recitals of the various ensembles. It took more time than I expected writing the notes for the programs of all the ensemble recitals. There were also my classes, of course, plus rehearsals in October and November for the orchestra concert at which I was to perform.
Gabe, the hunky electrician whose ass I often fantasized about, was at many of the recitals. He cleaned up good, usually wearing a pair of dress slacks, a nice sport shirt or sweater, and well-polished loafers. Sometimes he'd wear a blazer or jacket with a shirt open at the collar. A couple of times he invited me to a local bar afterward.
The first time that happened, he suggested a place some distance from campus. It was not too busy at ten o'clock on a weeknight, and we got a booth where we could talk without having to yell.
"Brent, I don't know whether you're a wine drinker or not, but if you are, don't order the house wines. They have some pretty decent wines, but you have to specify what you want."
"I would have had a beer with you, Gabe, if that's what you had chosen, but I'd prefer a glass of wine. Why don't you order for both of us?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Red or white?"
"Surprise me." I grinned at him. He surely did look good. His baby blue turtleneck complemented his intense blue eyes. My heart rate increased as I studied his handsome face, and my cock, semi-hard already, became totally rigid. I had to adjust myself under the table as he ordered the wine.
He chose Columbia Crest Chardonnay. The first sip was fine, and I told him so. After that, I could have been drinking swill, for I was so engrossed in Gabe that I didn't taste the wine. I drank it, and a second glass, I just wasn't aware of what it tasted like, perhaps because I was fantasizing about other fluids.
We talked about the music we'd just heard, about the Browns and the Bengals, about the upcoming elections. Not only was this guy great to look at, but he was also well read and very articulate. I felt completely comfortable with him -- except for my constant hard-on. He was thoughtful sometimes, witty at others, just very good company.
The second time we came to that place we had a nice Australian shiraz, but I can't remember the name of it. That evening I was still fascinated by Gabe. I just couldn't reconcile this intelligent, obviously cultured guy with the electrician who wore work boots and jeans and worked for B & G.