Swapping Sexualities

The doorbell cuts through the quiet. Gail and Steve move fast, conspiratorial glances passing between them before the latch clicks. Eric stands there, suitcase heavy in one hand. Their welcome barely lands before they pull him inside. Eric's eyes are still adjusting to the room when Steve's palm slides low across his back, too familiar, lingering. The three share a meal. Eric peels off his shirt. Gail stands in nothing but an apron, Steve in boxers, their arms draped over Eric's bare shoulders. Days later the bathroom knob rattles. Eric waits in his briefs. Then Gail and Steve step out, wet skin shining, still touching each other. Steve grins, claims shared showers are nothing special. One hand grips Eric's hip. "Try it if you like," he says, squeezing just above the waistband. Maybe. Eric disappears behind the closed door, grinning in spite of himself. Tonight they sit thigh-to-thigh. Couch springs shift under their combined weight. Gail and Steve drop it without warning: both of them like men as much as women. They want Eric to play the same game. He laughs once, nervous, but their hands stay light and sure. By the time the credits roll, his palms drift across both of them without hesitation, learning fast. He's still learning how much this house will teach him before the term ends.