Pumpkin Rolls and Porn Sounds

1

He absolutely wasn’t the type of guy who normally turned my head. Joshua Rhinehardt was at least three inches over six feet and, well, beefy. Not exactly fat, but solidly muscled and a little soft in the midsection. He had a mop of curly brown hair he was constantly pushing out of his bright blue eyes and a full beard and mustache, though it was neatly trimmed. I could see the dark dusting of hair on his forearms where his sleeves were pushed up, and more than a bit of chest hair peeking out above the top button of his shirt. He was good-looking, but not gorgeous, and if I had just passed him on the street, I wouldn’t have given him a second look.

My driver’s license said I was five foot eight, but that was a blatant lie. The truth was about two inches shorter. I’d never had any luck growing facial hair, and I kept my own red-brown locks cut close to my head. I was overly thin, though I worked out; I still possessed a teenager’s metabolism despite the fact I’d left my teen years behind almost ten years ago. When I was out trolling for a hookup, or even a date, I tended to be attracted to guys who were built like I was and hardly any taller. I had a type and I wasn’t ashamed of it. It was as much a part of me as the fact I liked men.

Listening to Joshua Rhinehardt speak, though, I couldn’t deny there was just somethingabout him that captured my attention. He was passionate, but his voice was steady and calm. Deep, too. I would bet he’d sound amazing in the throes of passion. I had to adjust my stance, and pushed back farther into the corner where I was propped up against the wall. I hadn’t even intended to be here this evening, but my mother had pleaded, and I had relented.

My parents started the local PFLAG when I’d come out to them at fifteen. They’d been running it ever since. I was so proud of them, and I knew full well how lucky I was to have them as parents. They supported me in every endeavor I’d undertaken, and I was certain I was the well-adjusted twenty-eight-year-old I was today solely because of that. When Mom had called me to tell me there was a guest speaker at tonight’s meeting, and subsequently begged me to attend, I found I really couldn’t say no. I’d tried, but Amelia Grant was an expert at the guilt trip.

Now, I was incredibly glad I’d shown up.

Mr. Joshua Rhinehardt was a local businessman. He owned the small but profitable café and bakery Pounds and Grounds. Their pumpkin rolls were legendary. Though I’d never had them myself, everyone I knew had waxed poetic about their melt-in-your-mouth goodness. More than that, though, was the prominent rainbow flag right in the logo design. Joshua Rhinehardt had apparently never made it a secret that he was gay.

“I came out when I was thirteen years old,” Mr. Rhinehardt said, his voice strong despite the little shake I could tell was from nerves. He took a deep breath and looked out at the crowd. “I knew who I was, and I didn’t want to hide it. I was teased. I was bullied. But the fact that I had support from my family made all the difference.

“My father didn’t understand ‘the gay.’ He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. I would catch him looking at me sometimes, and I could practically see the confusion swirling in his head. How could his big, strapping son be attracted to other boys? He just didn’t get it. But the most important thing to me was that even though he didn’t understand, I was still his son and he still loved me. He was my rock. He stood up for me when the bullying got rough. He went down to my school and made the administration understand that it would not be accepted. My dad might not have approved of my orientation, but that was a small thing compared to being hurt by others.”

Mr. Rhinehardt paused, took a deep breath, and then a small drink of water from the bottle on the podium. No one made a sound, every last person in the room enraptured. From my place in the back, I saw the man fidget a little. And then it was if something settled inside him. His voice came out stronger and surer as he continued.

“When I first opened Pounds and Grounds, I made the conscious choice to put a rainbow flag in the logo. I wanted everyone who saw it to know that it was a safe place. My dad questioned it. Not because he was against the sentiment, but because he was worried for me. And he was right to worry. I got hate mail. Bigots came in just to heckle and spout hateful and hurtful things. There were a few moments where I was ready to rethink my choice.