In the weeks that followed, nothing terribly strange or frightening happened.
Dexter and Brighton settled into a pleasant summertime routine. They took long walks
into town each morning to get the newspaper, they ate lunch outside on the summer porch
off the kitchen, and in the afternoons Brighton played with a little boy her age that lived
next door. While she was playing with the neighbor, Dexter left her with Marion and he
went to the beach. In California he’d never gone to the beach, partly because he’d grown
up there and he’d taken it for granted, and partly because there had never been time.
His life in California had been hectic. It had moved so fast he’d never had time to
sit back and relax next to his own swimming pool. If he wasn’t doing something with
Brighton, he was going to one social event after the other with Michael. Dexter and
Michael had decided that if Dexter ever did go back into show business, it would be
when Brighton was grown. He wanted to raise his child and take care of his house the
old-fashioned way. Michael was always working on different projects and he was gone a
good deal of the time. Dexter didn’t want Brighton growing up with two absentee parents
like other children he’d seen in Hollywood. Besides, as a child actor Dexter had earned
his money the hard way. Though he wasn’t a billionaire, he had made enough money to
enjoy the luxury of being a full-time stay-at-home Dad.
Going to the beach in Provincetown turned out to be an unusual experience. The
first few days he went to Herring Cove Beach he sat with all the straight people, staring
down at his watch every five minutes and yawning. But while he sat there he noticed that groups of gay men were entering at Herring Cove, passing him by, and heading down
into the dunes. On his third visit to the beach, he followed a group of four gay guys
toward the dunes. It was a long walk and the sand was thick and hot and awkward to
navigate. But the more he distanced himself from Herring Cove, the more interesting
things became. The beachgoers in the dunes were all gay men, and they all wore skimpy
swim trunks or nothing at all. Some gay couples huddled on beach towels and kissed,
while others walked up and down the tops of the dunes totally naked, with full erections,
looking for quick hook-ups.
After walking for twenty minutes in the sand, Dexter spotted an empty section in
one of the dunes and he spread out his black beach towel. There was a young gay couple
in a higher dune to his right, there was a group of good-looking young gay men in a
lower dune on his left, and there was a sexy weightlifter type in the dune in front of him.
They were all close enough to see, but far enough away to create an invisible line.
Dexter’s heart began to race and his breathing increased. He had never been promiscuous
in his life—he could count his lovers on one hand with fingers left to spare—and he
hadn’t had sex in a long time. But he did have one quiet little kink—or fundamental flaw,
depending on how it was perceived—that he kept to himself. He loved exhibitionism.
He’d always wanted to be a stripper, but because of his career as an actor he’d never been
able to do it. He had a clean-cut image to maintain.
But sometimes, especially when he was very lonely, it felt good to be naughty.
And his kink was simple and safe: Dexter liked removing his clothes in front of other
guys, and the dunes in Provincetown turned out to be his dream come true. He knew the guys were all watching him. The gay couple was whispering to each
other, the weightlifter was wearing dark glasses, and the group of young guys stopped
talking completely and looked in his direction. Dexter was new in town, and his
spectacular body was drawing attention. So he took a deep breath and slowly removed his
clothes. He kicked off his shorts and his full erection bounced; he lifted his arms to
stretch and his back arched.
After that first day, he went to the beach as often as he could. He didn’t cruise for
sex and he didn’t allow anyone to cruise him. There was no physical contact at all. But he
always put on a good strip show for the guys around him. Best of all, what happened in
the Provincetown dunes between gay men remained in the dunes. If he spotted someone
in town who had seen one of his blatant amateur strip shows, it was never mentioned.
They just nodded, smiled, and continued walking.
Aside from all this, Dexter’s first month in Keel Cottage was quiet and simple. He
slept better than he’d ever slept in his life, and in the mornings he always woke up with a
smile on his face and huge erection between his legs. He masturbated in bed, then took a
long hot shower. He was satisfied. He wasn’t interested in meeting guys. If he had been,
there would have been plenty in Provincetown, especially on the beach. But Dexter was
more interested in getting settled and being with Brighton.
When local people and neighbors joked about Keel Cottage being haunted, Dexter
smiled and laughed with them. They told him stories about how terrified former owners
had been, and how the house always wound up empty eventually. Everyone said it was
the ghost of Captain Lang chasing intruders out of his beloved Keel Cottage. So far, he
hadn’t seen any chairs flying through the house and he hadn’t heard any moans or howls in the middle of the night. He could not understand why anyone would ever leave a house
that was so restful.
But it wasn’t all perfect. There
were
a few strange things he couldn’t explain. At
least one kitchen cabinet door would be open in the morning, windows he thought he’d
closed would be wide open when he least expected it, and sometimes his iPhone would
wind up under the bed without a plausible explanation. One morning he couldn’t find his
underwear. He’d left a pair of boxers on the bed and had gone into the bathroom to take a
shower. When he’d returned, the boxers were gone. And every so often, Cleo would act
creepy. He’d sit and stare at nothing, tilting his head from side to side as if he saw
something the rest of them couldn’t see. But nothing ghoulish ever happened that would
make any of them run out the front door with their arms flying in the air.
By early July, Dexter had a deep tan and his muscles were popping again. He’d
joined a gym on Bradford Street and he’d started to work out five times a week. He
wanted to look good for the Fourth of July weekend. Michael, his ex-partner, was coming
to Provincetown for a quick visit to see the new house and to visit Brighton. He was
coming alone, without his nineteen-year-old boyfriend.
On the first Friday in July, Dexter and Brighton drove out to Provincetown airport
to meet Michael’s plane. He’d flown to Boston, then taken a smaller plane to The Cape.
The Fourth fell on a Saturday, and Michael was only staying until Monday morning.
Brighton was so excited to see him she couldn’t stop talking in the back seat of the car.
Her legs moved too much and she kept tugging at the top of her seat belt. Dexter bit the
inside of his mouth and forced a smile. He wanted to put up a good front for Brighton’s
sake. But he thought that since Michael hadn’t seen his own daughter in well over a month, he should have planned to spend at least week in Provincetown. Dexter had no
idea when Michael would be back for another visit.
When they arrived, Michael was already waiting for them. He was standing on the
pavement with two Gucci bags in his hands. Dexter took one look at him and sighed.
Michael was wearing tight black jeans, a skintight white shirt, and heavy black boots with
pointy toes. His dark brown hair was a little longer and he hadn’t shaved in a few days,
probably on purpose. Dexter pulled up to where he was standing and took a deep breath.
Michael was still as handsome and sexy as he’d always been. When the car stopped,
Brighton unhooked her seat belt and jumped out of the car to greet him. Her reaction to
Michael always made Dexter wonder. No matter how many times Michael disappointed
her, Brighton never stopped worshipping him.
Dexter got out and opened the trunk. He turned around, looked at Michael, and
smiled. “How was your flight?” he asked. Now that he was closer he noticed that Michael
had a new tattoo on his right arm: a small black band, with swirls and turns, wrapped
around his bicep. He was also wearing large diamond studs in both ears. Dexter looked
down into the empty trunk and frowned.
Michael lifted his bags and walked to the back of the car. He put his hand on the
small of Dexter’s back and said, “Hey, baby, how about a hug for Daddy?” Then he put
his arms around Dexter’s body and squeezed hard. “You look good, baby. Give Daddy a
hug now.” He knew Dexter liked to be pushed around with a rough hand in bed.
When Michael finally let go, Dexter smiled and stepped back. No one had
touched him like that since the last time he’d been with Michael, before Michael had
moved out. “It’s good to see you, Michael,” he said. “Brighton was so excited this morning she couldn’t even eat.” He wanted to sound casual and light. He didn’t want
Michael to know that his heart was pounding, that his knees felt weak, and that he was
ready to pull down his pants and bend over the hood of the car.
Brighton reached for Michael’s hand and said, “Let’s go. You have to see our new
house, Dad. It’s really great.”
Michael patted her head and stared at Dexter. He looked him up and down and
said, “You are looking really good, baby.” Then he whistled back and added, “Almost too
good.”
Dexter smiled and said, “You look good too, Michael.” But he was lying. He
thought the tattoo looked silly and the earrings looked even more ridiculous.
While Dexter put the suitcases into the trunk, Michael strapped Brighton into the
back seat. Then Michael closed her door and walked to the back of the car. The trunk lid
was still open and she couldn’t see or hear them. He grabbed Dexter by the back of the
head and kissed him hard. His tongue slipped into Dexter’s mouth and probed for a
second. When he pulled his head back he whispered, “You taste good, baby.” Then he
patted Dexter on the ass and walked back to the front of the car.
Dexter stood there with his mouth dropping open. He hadn’t expected anything
like that to happen.
When they reached the house, Michael got out of the car and stared. He rubbed
his jaw and lifted his eyebrows. “This house is something else, baby. I didn’t expect to
see this. It must have cleaned you out. How could you afford it?”
Dexter got out of the car and opened the trunk. “I decided to put all the money I
got from the old house into this house. I don’t have a mortgage. I got a good deal here.” Michael pressed his lips together and frowned, and Brighton grabbed his hand and
said, “C’mon, Dad. I’ll show you my room, and then I’ll show you your bedroom.”
“Go ahead,” Dexter said. “I’ll get your bags. And be nice to Marion when you see
her.” Michael and Marion had never been close. If it hadn’t been for Brighton, Michael
would have fired her years earlier.
Later that night, Dexter put Brighton to bed and went downstairs to sit with
Michael on the front porch. He wasn’t looking forward to being alone with him, but he
didn’t have much of a choice. Brighton’s bedtime was eight o’clock, and Marion
announced she was going to her room to read. She had been civil with Michael all
through dinner, but it was obvious she wanted to avoid him. She’d barely said three
words to him since he’d arrived. And Dexter knew she never read before she went to bed.
When Dexter crossed out to the porch, Michael was sitting on a brand-new white
loveseat. The handyman whom Dexter had hired had made the loveseat by hand, with
apple green cushions to match the rest of the porch furniture. Michael smoked a cigarette
and his legs were stretched out and spread apart. Dexter didn’t allow smoking in the
house, but he’d given Michael an old, chipped ashtray to use on the front porch. The chip
was sharp and pointy, and Dexter had warned him about it. “Are you all settled in your
room, Michael? Do you need anything?” Dexter asked. He wanted to keep the
conversation as superficial as possible.
Michael smiled and patted the empty side of the loveseat. “I’m fine,” he said.
“Come over here and sit down next to me so I can put my arm around you, baby.” His
voice was low and deep. The bulge between his legs stood out. Dexter hesitated for a moment. When they’d been a couple he’d liked it when
